Theo did his best to avoid the wine served at the feast. Xam had imported a watered berry wine from Rivers and Daub. While it was likely not strong enough to affect a Half-Ogre, even by the barrel full, he still shied away from it. The celebrations carried deep into the night, even after the golems melted into mush, but the alchemist and his friends retreated to the bathhouse long before that. Luras joined them this time, taking full advantage of the private bath.
“Your private room is much larger than the others,” Luras said, lowering himself into the pool. He let out a satisfied sigh. “And the water is hotter.”
Theo was joined by Tresk, Zarali, and Luras tonight in his private bath. Salire politely declined, staying back at the party and taking full advantage of the wine. The alchemist took the chance to grill his adoptive sister on the concept of willpower, which she was happy to share her opinions on.
“Some say that’s a hidden attribute,” Zarali said, soaking a cloth in the water, then placing it on the top of her head. She closed her eyes as the water dribbled down her face. “You’re already on the path to increase it, using your mana the way you are.”
“Aarok was pissed about the mud people,” Luras said, flashing a smile. “I haven’t seen pranks like that in Broken Tusk in years.”
“I fear retaliation,” Theo said.
“You should,” Luras said, dipping his head below the surface of the water. Tresk was just swimming around.
“Willpower develops naturally,” Zarali said. “I have a few games you can try to increase it, but it’s part of your focus. You’re already a very focused person.”
Theo nodded. That much was true. He often carried out mundane tasks, day after day, with no problem. His ability to focus on a task was enhanced by his attributes and cores. Zarali was of the opinion that they acted as a growth modifier for his natural willpower, meaning that they would only influence someone with an already high will.
“I’m interested to see what your little mud people can do,” Zarali said.
Luras had surfaced already, putting in his opinion. “Weapons.”
“That idea didn’t escape me,” Theo said. “I don’t want to say it out loud, but I could send them into a group of monsters with a bomb.”
“Weapons of assassination,” Luras said, amending his previous comment.
“That too,” Theo said, although he really wouldn’t say that one out loud. “How about tireless guardians that watch the mines. Haulers that move things from one place to another. Fieldhands. Lumberjacks. Soldiers. They can be anything.”
“I’ve never seen you attached to an idea like this,” Luras said, settling down on a rock. “You get excited about alchemy, but this? You’re going all in.”
Theo was often excited about brewing potions. His latest creation, the [Potion of Limited Foresight], was unrivaled in its power. The value of such a potion was impossible to determine, not without someone like Fenian appraising the thing directly. It also wasn’t difficult to brew, following the same steps as all his other potions. An unlimited supply of [Pozwa Horns] meant an unlimited supply of the rare potion, but where did potioncraft stop? Not soon, the alchemist realized with little thought. The complexity of potions would grow only in their function, influencing different aspects of life.
These are all fanciful dreams of a rising alchemist, though. It was impossible for him to peer into the future to determine his path. He’d just follow it as it was laid before him.
“So, a monster wave?” Theo said, changing the subject.
“Xol’sa has been talking about it,” Luras said.
Theo withdrew the early warning crystal from his inventory. It had been a long time since he’d looked at it, but it was a deep yellow color. When the dungeons were malfunctioning, they put out a wave every week before Xol’sa stopped it. The people of Broken Tusk wouldn’t complain, though. The waves brought wealth and a massive boost to experience.
The group lounged in the bath for a long time. Zarali took to teaching Theo a few games to play with his mana. The idea was to summon the dancing flames of Drogramath, and control them to represent shapes. After that, he could focus on controlling the fire outside of his reach. The priestess displayed her aptitude, sending hundreds of balls of fire through the room, letting them dance off the water and assume various shapes. The alchemist was nowhere near that level of control, but it didn’t discourage him. He could practice.
They shared small topics after practicing, never lingering on one thing for too long. The end of the season was in sight. Theo learned that each season was broken into 70 days each, meaning they had a 280 day year. The alchemist might have had his intelligence increased recently, but he couldn’t figure out what that meant for the planet they were standing on. He dismissed the concept entirely, only concerned that the next season they faced was the Season of Fire.
If this world’s equal to spring was hot, their summer would be even worse. Theo had an idea, early in his residency in Broken Tusk, for a cooling system. With increased access to both artifices and reagents, he had another idea entirely. Why not hook the entire town up with central cooling? Throk could whip something like that up in an afternoon. The alchemist didn’t dare share his ideas, fearing the retribution of his friends. They would make fun of him for chasing the next, newest thing in his mind.
When Theo and Tresk returned to the Newt and Demon, they descended into the Dreamwalk. The Marshling was immediately disappointed when he used his new potion, tilting the scales against her once again. She was even less impressed when he made mud bodyguards. With any thought of attacking him out of her mind, she left him alone that night. This gave him enough time to practice and experiment with his new skill.
The first thing he discovered was his lacking technique. [Alchemy Constructs] was more an art of putting pieces together than a linear process like standard alchemy. Golems were a puzzle. From the [Monster Cores] Theo had seen, cores he could replicate in the Dreamwalk, each had a unique personality. Goblin cores just wanted to fight, monsterized animals were good at labor, and each specific core held quirks. Theo learned the importance of a good containment core.
Containment cores weren’t just things that held the [Monster Core] in place. They were the beating heart of the golem, and when he brought them to life he noticed small changes depending on how he injected his mana. Without his practice on the subject, the constructs would have been useless. Several hours into studying, he injected too much mana into a construct and it exploded. The force of the explosion would have killed him if he wasn’t in the Dreamwalking realm.
The amount of mana injected into the thing didn’t matter as much as where he injected it. Theo was effectively infusing the metal cages with mana, which acted as the spark of life. When he experimented with the different shaped cages, he noticed a massive change in the golem’s behavior.
“Look at this,” Theo said, laying a few cages out for Tresk to see. She was taking a break from fighting, changing the scene from the exterior of Broken Tusk to the bathhouse.
“Some are more complex,” she observed, pointing between the cages.
Throk’s cages had flourishes and points of significance. Small images that stood out among the repeating patterns. His apprentice’s metal cages were simple things, holding none of the interesting parts. Those cages with more intricate patterns created stronger constructs that lasted longer. The iron cages held the form together for twice as long as the copper ones, and Theo suspected Drogramathi Iron would double that number. His instincts said silver cages would be even better, as the precious metals were often excellent components.
Theo went through his list of theories with Tresk, centering on a few simple observations. Since she saw them as useful tools, she was happy to share her opinion. They spent an hour going over ways to improve the design of the cages, coming to an interesting conclusion.
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“The cage uses mana to bind the will of the dead monster,” Theo said, pointing at his example sinking to the bottom of the bath. “That’s the thing’s brain. It’s making pathways based on how complex the cage is.”
“What’s the best way to make something smarter?” Tresk asked, grinning.
Theo pointed between Tresk and himself. “Give it two brains.”
Then the plan formed in a logical pattern. Two cages, one surrounding the other, of various shapes. Each combination would provide unique attributes and it gave him a clear path forward for integrating external power supplies. The cages could hold a power core, a siphon, and a power to mana converter all inside the golem. That would increase the price of each construct, but it should extend their life. During his testing, he learned that if he fed the cage mana, it extended the life of the construct.
All this experimentation highlighted how valuable the Dreamwalk was. He was getting experience for his cores, learning new things, and testing everything in a safe environment, never fearing a horrible reaction. He spent the rest of his time that night in the Dreamwalk working on the golem problem, intending to bring an additional request to Throk.
Despite his excitement, Theo thought better than to eat his breakfast in the lab like a recluse. Tresk joined him at the Marsh Wolf Tavern to enjoy more Pozwa omelets. The Marshling retold her adventures in the dungeons, stating once again that she’d gone deeper than ever before. It wasn’t a lie, even if she’d been to the last room of the dungeon several times. While the [Swamp Dungeon] wasn’t growing as fast as it had been, it was still expanding downward every day, gathering strength. The adventurers of Broken Tusk just saw it as a chance to earn a ton of money.
Breakfast was pleasant. Xam’s tea tasted better every day, somehow gaining an edge of sweetness against the bitter [Moss Nettle]. The peace of the morning was broken when Alise came scrambling over, her hair plastered to her face with sweat. Her eyes were wild, but Theo could sense that she was being overly dramatic.
“Council,” she said, heaving breaths. “Alran Cherman. Rivers. Town Hall.”
It was easy enough to piece together that information. Alran Cherman was a Mercantile Chair from Rivers and Daub. Some towns in the kingdom worked on a system of representation from the highest-earners, something Theo hated. He nodded to his Lady Administrator, then to Tresk. The last time they were here, they tried to kill him. The Marshling vanished, and he could feel her rushing to find Aarok and Luras. Broken Tusk’s guard would go on high alert while the meeting took place.
Theo drank a [Potion of Limited Foresight].
Alran was a portly man. He wore the same ruffled robes and ostentatious hat as Fenian, a hat that Theo now wore as his [Plume of Defiance], but he didn’t wear it well. He was a Human with a balding mop of curly hair, round features and beady eyes. Still, despite his appearance he made good on their trade deal. Alran stood outside of the town hall, hands on his hips with his guards close by.
“You have a town hall, now? Finally catching up,” Alran said, sneering. He adjusted his expression immediately, coughing into his hand and dropping the act. “We have dire news to discuss.”
Theo ushered him inside, taking him to a back room on the second floor of their new building. He would normally send a private message to Tresk with instructions on what to do, but he could feel her lurking in the shadows of the back room, completely hidden in the corner.
Luras is outside. Bal’s boys are running patrol. Zarali is weaving some magic thing. You’re good, bud, Tresk said.
The room the pair entered had a long table with chairs on either side. It was odd when the two of them sat on opposite sides of the table. At least the view outside of the window was good.
“Have you received word from your contact in Qavell?” Alran asked.
Theo ran his fingers through his hair, tracing the ridges of his horns. That was always comforting. His tail poked out from the open-back chair, swishing like a cat ready to pounce. He could put together enough information from the frantic look on Alran’s face. Enough to know bad things were coming.
“Sounds like we’re screwed,” Theo said, steepling his fingers and leaning in. “My contact refused to give me more information. Just some nonsense about being thankful we have a kingdom.”
Alran let out a steady breath, smacking his palms against his face. When his cheeks were sufficiently red, he looked Theo right in the eyes. “I’ve sent word to Gronro-Dir. We need to have a meeting—every power in the southlands.”
“I’m interested,” Theo said, grinning at the shocked expression on Alran’s face. The Chair thought this was supposed to be hard, but it was what Broken Tusk wanted. An alliance of the southlands. “I don’t know what’s happening in Qavell, though.”
“War. And worse,” Alran said. “My spies—yes, I have spies—report bad news on the Veostian front.”
“We’re losing the war?” Theo asked.
“Handily,” Alran said. He withdrew a length of cloth from his inventory and wiped his brow. “Why the king started it to begin with is anyone’s guess. We had good borders. A delicate line cut by the spine. I live here. You live there. No one wants the damn cursed mountains.”
Theo leaned back in his chair. Alran was being too open with his information. If he had spies, he could feed Theo information any time he wanted. The only conclusion was that this was indeed very dire. Still, any overt action against the south would take ages and they weren’t a big target. Which meant Alran was still hiding something. A bigger threat. The alchemist filed the information away. It wouldn’t serve him in this discussion.
“It’s suspicious, right?” Theo asked. “The cultist’s rebellion. Qavell makes war, and they rise. Then, the Mercantile Chairs of the city get their heads lopped off. Whatever force comes for us will break on Gronro-Dir.”
“If they don’t come from the sea,” Alran said, scoffing.
“I’m working on that,” Theo said. “Broken Tusk is happy to offer supplies to Gronro-Dir when the time comes. Money, weapons, potions, whatever they need. I have a question. What can you provide?”
Theo knew the answer before Alran spoke. He was just trying to poke the sweating merchant.
“Food. Wine. Textiles. Adventurers, if they’re needed,” Alran said, puffing himself up. “Don’t take me for a fool, Theo. I made one mistake, but I’m not so arrogant to think Rivers and Daub can weather this alone. We’ve had enough problems with the monster waves.”
That struck Theo in the heart, though. Broken Tusk was responsible for the monster waves, in a way. But he wouldn’t apologize and look weak. He was trying to put things in place, make sure everyone knew where they stood.
“Broken Tusk is the industry, you’re the farm, and Gronro-Dir is the sword and shield,” Theo said, nodding to the man. “We’re already enjoying a fantastic trade relationship. There’s no reason to hurt that. An alliance. Three small towns against a kingdom, sounds good to me.”
Theo reached out to shake the merchant’s hand. Alran was dumbfounded, sputtering his objections. He never expected Broken Tusk to agree so easily.
“Surely there should be stipulations,” Alran said.
“Of course,” Theo said, shrugging. “But we’re not negotiating here. Not without Murder Passage at the table.”
“Please don’t call it that,” Alran said, going white in the face.
Theo and Alran agreed on basic terms, but nothing went into writing. They established an agreement to communicate at least every other day, sharing whatever information they had. Broken Tusk had little to offer in that realm. The thing that really reeled Alran in was a promise for decreased prices for everyone in the alliance.
“Well, now I’m very interested,” Alran said, smiling for the first time since he got into the small, hot room.
Theo rarely talked to other leaders in this world. He had a few questions lingering in his mind.
“Has Rivers ever thought of breaking from the kingdom?” Theo asked.
“Many times,” Alran said. “As has Gronro-Dir. I suppose I’ll give you a history lesson, if you’ll have it.”
“Please, do,” Theo said, gesturing to the man.
Alran withdrew a wineskin from his inventory, as well as two cups. He poured one for himself and one for Theo, sliding it across the table. The alchemist’s advanced senses for alchemical meddling told him it was a simple berry wine, nothing untoward.
“After Balkor’s Betrayal, almost everyone on the continent was dead,” Alran started, drinking deeply from his cup. Theo did as well, finding it to be pleasantly sweet and tart in equal measure. “Glantheir stitched it back together at great expense, defying the other gods. The survivors rebuilt. Ogres sailed, however they sailed, from Slagrot, settling in the southern marshes. Broken Tusk. Settlers came from the north, joining with those Ogres to create the Half-Ogres we know today. Then Qavell was formed. They pushed south, conquering every town along the way. It didn’t matter how small the town was, they planted their [Town Seed Cores] and reaped the taxes.”
Alran paused for a long moment, leaning forward. “My family has lived here since Balkor’s Betrayal. Almost one thousand years of history, and the kingdom paved it in a month. We’ve never enjoyed occupation. The curious thing about freedom from these shackles? The price goes up every time we try to pay.”
Theo let out a steadying breath. Grub, his contact in the city, always seemed to push him away from the idea of the Duke title. If the kingdom was doing this to Rivers and Daub from the start, what hope was there for Broken Tusk to get out from under their thumb.
“I hold no grudge against Qavell,” Theo said. “But if their ashes mean the growth of a new power, the southern alliance of towns, then I’ll gladly watch it crumble.”
Alran held his glass out, toasting the sentiment.
“We’ll work on the name,” Alran said.