The Notorious Misadventures of an Alchemist and a Phoenix, Chapter 24

The Alchemy Bank was open for business. The front office, where all the deals, potions and cash exchanges took place was packed with the usual whole sellers. Each one was filling their containers from the master barrels or filling out special orders that they wanted. Margo Mordecai watched the busy merchants as she stirred her cooking pot.

Every person who entered the shop automatically thought that Margo was the owner of the Alchemy Bank and was stirring up a master potion but the brown liquid in her caldron was last night's broth she was now preparing. Margo was advanced in years but that only meant she was as tough as old leather, She was first to rise in the morning and last to bed.

Her job in the Alchemy bank was to accept gold and orders. Both of these weren't her business and she just shoved them behind the counter for pick up. She chopped some herbs and popped them in the cauldron.

Today was just as busy as it always was but she didn't have to be responsible for anything, all she had to do was look like she was in charge. She knew what to do because she had been doing it for almost a year now. In her heart, she knew she was jealous of Noah's ability to earn cash but she wasn't doing badly herself.

The meals she made and the adventure block food sold like hotcakes, and the best thing was the cost. She had piggybacked off Noah's suppliers and bought the ingredients she needed at almost cost. Each evening she would visit the butchers and buy all of the offcuts, offal, bones and guts at stupidly low prices and then take it back to the shop to prepare and sell it for the next day.

Margo had just finished a new batch of her ultra-meaty giant food bricks, these were her best sellers. It was a big block of flavour that adventures would slice a piece off and add to water to make a nice soup or add two pieces to make a thick gravy.

Merchants wanted her cooking as well but unlike Noah, she wasn't going to give them a discount, not when she sold all of her stock without trouble. Stuff them in the butt with chestnut and clear bean stuffing, if they wanted a discount.

Without looking she grabbed a bag of onions, peeled them and cut them into ribbons. The room filled with the smell of sauteed onions as Margo twisted the frying pan in the air to turn the onions over so they were covered with an even coat of melted butter.

"Moisture release" whispered Margo "Maillard reaction"

The skill turned the onions soft and then yellow and within the span of a few moments dark jammie brown. Finely chopped garlic followed the onions and both of them were covered with some sugar, flour and then after a bit of time, red wine. All of this went into the stock and was left on low heat so the ingredients could get to know each other.

Margo Was just about to put her finishing touches of herbs and a good slug of Big Belly Warming Brandy when a parade of well-armoured old farts barged into the shop pushing the merchants out of the way. They lined up and parted allowing for a very sharply dressed woman in a three-piece suit to walk by like she owned the place.

The suited woman was accompanied by a small bold man who had the longest fingers Margo had ever seen and glasses that made his eyes bigger than saucer dishes.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Margo didn't know who the woman was but she could easily guess who the bold man was because of the Insignia on his chest.

The Bold man was called Fatsani Armani Rin Turan but everyone called him Turan or Fart behind his back, and he was the thieves guild leader. A particularly good thief but not in the most traditional way. He had shot to infamy when he stole a large chunk of gold though out the city by using just his skills as a bureaucrat. No knife left its sheath, and no one was held up and asked "your money or your life". Turan had used the power of paper and pen to fudge numbers and steal his wealth in the quietest way possible.

Margo pulled on a long rope that would call for help.

The woman in the suit walked straight up to Margo's station and paused, she looked Margo up and down and then rubbed the table with her finger.

"Ahhh," thought Margo, she didn't know who this woman was but she understood that she was a first-class bitch when she started to inspect her finger for dirt.

"Madam Margo Mordecai of the esteemed and well-established Alchemy Bank," said Turan, His impossibly long fingers rubbed over his knuckles.

"Bad news, bad news indeed" spoke Turan

Margo tugged on the emergency rope again. Margo had lived her long life and if there was one thing she knew, it was when slimy bureaucrats said "bad news" it meant it was bad news for you and not them.

"According to the thieves guild bylaws and founding charter, an illegally forced release of supplies happen on the date..."

Margo wasn't listening, she was almost swinging on the rope, calling for help.

"reparations are called for the actions of one Phoenix of the Alchemy Bank" explained Turan.

As soon as the words reparations was muttered from Turan the line of armoured old men moved with purpose. Their hands spread out and grab whatever wasn't nailed down. One old man tried to grab Margo's cooking caldron but thought again when the heat singed his cloak. The giant barrels that held the shop's potions were hooked up to a hose and drained. The guild was taking everything, they weren't sure how much the phoenix feathers were worth but they would figure it out.

One of the old gits tried his hand at the back door and when it didn't budge under his considerable power a second old git tried with the first.

"What's behind door number one" demanded the suited woman.

"Maybe, it's your fat mum" one of the merchants yelled. Merchants didn't like their time wasted. It meant less time making money. And they definitely didn't like the thieves guild.

The way the suited woman turned on the spot without bending anything caused the merchants to shut up immediately.

"What's behind the door" repeated the suited woman

Margo was a little over her head. Yes, she had a long life but not with debtors, but she did know that when in doubt, keep your mouth closed. If that little rule was good enough for the god of secrets then it was good enough here and now.

The suit lady seemed to have a short fuse when it came to not getting her way "BREAK IT DOWN" she yelled to the old man crew.

A real-life battering ram was introduced to the door and only after the sixth strike did the old men stop. The door was perfectly fine, not even a scratch was there. The ram on the other hand was split down the middle.

"Ahhhh, a soul door with thorns of the vengeful enchanted on it" Turan explained, he looked at the ruined battering ram "add that to the bill"

"Open the door, Madam Margo"

The soul door creaked open slowly making an unusual amount of noise as it did so.

"Thank you, Madam," said Turan, a slick smile plastered over his face. A soul door was a nightmare for any would-be thief. They were expensive and protected by powerful.....things, Turan wasn't completely sure but he knew whatever was behind that door was worth its weight in gold.

Margo, on the other hand, didn't know what was going on, she didn't have the power to open that door. She didn't even know what was behind it.

The battering ram crew lead the charge but quickly retreated when Golem number....1 pushed them back.

Turan coughed slightly, he didn't expect the golems. He had done the bare minimum and looked at the rules of the thieves guild and if the Alchemy Bank had insurance but that was it, he should have visited the information guild and found out about this golem.

The whole room went quiet under the shadow of the golem. The thieves guild crew, Turan, and the lady in the suit subconsciously drew closer to each other. Now there was an unavoidable impasse called golem number 1