The next morning Karrel woke up to find Trader was still bonded to him, despite likely waking up hours before him.
"Good morning." He said. "I thought you'd go work on your potions or something."
[Hi. I'm running a few checks to make sure our bodies are as optimized as possible given my current abilities. Still haven't figured out a way to stop the blood surplus. For now I just periodically run a spell that converts your blood to mana, so you don't have to worry about nosebleeds anymore. That spent blood is still being made, of course, so remember to hydrate.] She replied.
"Alright, as long as it doesn't kill me." He stood up and stretched. "So, what's your plan for today? I still have a couple orders to take care of, so maybe you could take a look at those and provide your organic touch?"
[Sure. Other than that, I'd like to get some stealth capabilities. We need to scout out the office of that Administration guy.]
Karrel got dressed, and they walked to the workshop.
"Let's see…" he picked up the stack of letters containing work orders. "«Make me a weapon to rival gods. Signed, Ordunn the Slayer.»"
Karrel sighed.
"There's one of those every month." He shook his head.
[Wannabe godkillers?] The symbiote asked.
"No, idiots who ask for something super vague. Nine times out of ten it's to avoid paying the full price because I didn't meet their nebulous criteria. Though this Ordunn guy seems like the remaining one, folks who just don't understand what it is I do. And he gave me no address, so I couldn't have delivered the thing anyway."
The smith casually threw the piece of paper into the forge. The flame was not lit, which detracted from the gesture.
"There we go!" He exclaimed, reading the next order. "A crossbow that provides its own ammunition, and draws the string on its own. A proper order. Wants it for hunting, yadda yadda…" the artificer's expression soured when he read the underlined sentence. "«the bolts must be able to carry my spells.» Crap. «Non-negotiable.» Double crap."
[Why is that an issue, exactly?] Trader wondered.
"Normally, when someone asks for self-sustaining ranged weapons, I make the enchantment conjure the projectile. Simple, and I can fit it with an in-built spell, like a flame arrow. But with this method the projectiles are mana constructs, and of course you can't magically enhance something that's made out of mana itself."
[Right. But you wanted to learn matter creation anyway, right?]
He stood silently for three full seconds, then slapped his forehead.
"Of course. I would've remembered on my own, but thanks. That's gonna be a long project, but doable."
Just as Karrel was turning around to consult his notes, he caught a glimpse of the last letter on the table.
"Wait." He picked it up. "That's Luci's handwriting."
Karrel looked wide-eyed at the piece of paper in stunned silence, so it was up to Trader to read it.
[Dear Karrel,
I hope you are well. I miss you, my dear. I wish I could visit you, but you understand that mother won't allow me to leave the manor. She forced me to focus on my studies, so I didn't have much time to write to you earlier.
The only way she allowed this letter to begin with is if it was a genuine work order. Therefore, here is what I require:
Please make me a bracelet that would shield me from detection and other divining. Make it powerful; capable to fool, for example, a dragon mage. As I'm aware of the costs, I will pay you one million standard gold pieces upon receiving the bracelet and confirming its quality.
I hope we can find some way to meet eachother again.
Eternally yours, Lucienne.]
The part of the letter that contained the request was written using a different ink, and in much larger letters.
[I'm guessing she hid most of the text using some sort of illusionary ink.] Trader proposed.
"This…" Karrel stood still in shock. "I… I miss you too, Luci."
He held the piece of paper to his chest. Several moments of silence passed, before he sighed and laid the letter back on the table.
"Alright. I think I'll work on the bracelet first. I need to brush up on divination defense, though, so it's another trip to the library." The smith said, walking towards the exit.
[Oh thank gods, I'll have something to do!] Trader exclaimed.
[Please, don't fuck another assistant.] He pleaded. [I don't want the best source of knowledge in the Dutchy ran by a squad of heartbroken husks.]
[I explicitly told Matt it was just a no-strings-attached fling. If he developed feelings after one quickie, that's on him.] She rebuffed.
----------------------------------------
As it happened, Matthew wasn't working that day, and the assistant that attended them did not show any obvious interest in Trader, so she did not pursue.
She did, however, read up on organs, specifically heart, lungs, and liver. Things like muscles were great to know about for combat enhancements, but if she wanted to earn a living as a healer - and she did, as it was quite lucrative - she would mostly treat commoners, who tended to have problems with diseases and organ failures rather than stabbing wounds.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
With the newfound - or rather, resurfaced - knowledge, the symbiote was now able to treat the most common heart conditions, lung problems, and neutralise most toxins. It didn't particularly matter whether the patient was a human, dragon, elf, orc, or any other sapient species. Thanks to the way the gods had influenced the evolution of the different peoples, the vast majority had a humanoid shape and similar tissue structure.
"Hey, is there any sort of «human supremacists» on account of all that? As them being the «divinely approved design,» or whatever?" Trader asked Karrel. He scratched his chin.
"Not really. The species considered superior are the dragons, and anyone with draconic heritage can potentially become one, so there isn't any sort of racial hierarchy. But you know, there's always a small gathering of people who claim they're better than anyone else, with or without good reason to think that. And there's always the untamed lands, who knows what goes on in there."
She perked up at the last sentence.
"Untamed lands?"
"Well, the empire's big, but it didn't conquer the whole world, so far at least. I've been taught there are at least two other continents, and we don't even have permanent colonies there. I've heard rumors about some society that lives deep underground, but no proof either way. There's also the Ashen Wastes, south of here, where there used to be a nation. Drex the Emperor was killed trying to take them, so every noble in the empire has decided to delete the place from existence in revenge."
"Who's the emperor now?"
"Drex's son, Virian. From what I've heard, he's a much kinder ruler. He's been on the throne for the past three hundred years."
Karrel continued to retell whatever he remembered from school about the Drexian Empire's history, with Trader interjecting with a question from time to time.
"It's interesting." She said after a short break in the conversation. "With alchemy, with anatomy, with magic in general, when I read or experiment I feel like I'm unlocking buried memories, like picking up a hobby I haven't done in a while. History is entirely new. No recognition from my subconsciousness, just new information. I'm actually learning, instead of re-learning."
"Do you prefer it to learning about your regular topics?" The smith asked.
"I wouldn't go that far. The limits of our bodies and surpassing them is still my favorite thing in the world. It's more like I'm… impatient, I guess. I want to get back to the point where what I learn is new to me, instead of new to the current me. I hope that makes sense."
Karrel nodded. "I think I get that. We're supposed to restore your memory anyway, so whatever you're remembering now is kind of a waste in the long run."
The two left soon after. When they returned to the smith's home, Trader asked if she could help with the bracelet.
"Thanks, but this is personal. I'll do this on my own." He replied.
Once more left to her own devices, the parasite decided to practice some more alchemy. To do that, she went to the town square for ingredients. While she could produce many organic substances by simply willing her body to do so, she didn't know every one of thousands of compounds that existed in the world. Not to mention most of the commonly used reagents were mined, not harvested from plants or animals.
The shopping trip went without incident. Among the ingredients she bought was sulfur, salt, and magnesium powder, all of which she now placed in separate beakers and began imbuing.
Alchemy as a magical discipline was generally divided into two schools: imbuement and extraction. Imbuement was the practice of instilling a property into a material, or amplifying the already present qualities. Causing an acid to be more corrosive, an explosive to be more volatile, even making sugar sweeter. Extraction was the reverse process, draining qualities from a reagent and using it to produce a magical effect. It was also used to stabilize more chemically reactive substances.
As with most things magical, these effects were only in place until the spell unraveled on its own and its mana dispersed, unless the mixture was properly balanced to self-enforce. This is what Trader was doing now, mixing the imbued sulfur and magnesium with salt acting as a stabilizer and interweaving the spells on each material.
"I hope you don't blow up my house." Karrel said without looking up from the bracelet he was making.
"And I hope you two pay more attention." Said Isabella, appearing suddenly right behind Trader and grabbing her by the neck. Although startled, the symbiote didn't drop the beaker she was holding.
"Don't do that again!" She raised her finger at the demon.
"I will continue to ambush you until you learn to never drop your guard down. I could've cut your head off twice over." Isabella said, letting go of Trader.
"And I would've smashed yours with this beaker in response." The alien countered.
The demoness' eyes widened.
"You can survive decapitation? You have a Shell already?"
"No, I just store my brain elsewhere. Head is the obvious weak point. Plus standing up after having it chopped off is a great intimidation factor."
Karrel, who had been looking at the scene in silence, cleared his throat.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but what's a Shell? In this context, I mean."
The two women looked at each other for a second, and Isabella motioned for Trader to lead the explanation.
"Alright, let's start with the basics. I assume you know about the trinity of sapience?" She began.
"Since before I've learned how to read, yes." He sighed with slight exasperation. "A person's mind is the essence of their being. But a mind is fragile and cannot survive on its own, so every mind is contained within a body. That's it for simple beings, like animals. But people, actual sapient people, have minds too complex to fit into a body in their entirety, so those minds develop souls to act as the second part of the vessel. Thus we have body, mind, and soul, the trinity of sapience. Literal preschool knowledge."
"Great. Sorry if it was too obvious, It's my third day here, I still don't know what is or isn't common knowledge." She scratched her head.
"It's only been three days? Damn." Karrel remarked.
"Alright," Trader continued, "so the trinity is how it usually works for mortals. But both body and soul are still possible to damage and destroy, and if either fails you're almost guaranteed to die. Unless you are Shelled. A Shell is a type of immortality. You turn either your soul or your body indestructible, so if the other side falls, your mind squeezes into your Shell and you form another of whatever you lost. There is still some mind damage, but it beats total annihilation."
"What if someone Shells their body and their soul?" Karrel asked.
"It's possible, but undesirable. Your mind has no room to grow, to change." Isabella chimed in. "Plus, finding one method of Shelling is a whole dynasty's worth of effort, let alone two. But Trader wasn't done explaining, so please continue, dear."
The symbiote in question opened her mouth again.
"I called it «immortality,» but that's not wholly true. For one, a Shell cannot be destroyed, but that doesn't mean it cannot be damaged. Dragons, for example, can still be harmed. Secondly, for every ritual or rite that turns a vessel into a Shell, there exists a method to undo that. Then the person is once again mortal and wholly capable of dying."
"Can you make your mind into a Shell?" The smith wondered.
Trader grinned. "Excellent question. Yes, it is possible to make your mind unable to be destroyed in its entirety, and only need body and soul to interact with the physical world, and perform magic, respectively. However, we don't call such an individual a Shelled one."
She paused for dramatic effect, looking Karrel straight in the eye.
"We would call them a god."