After a day of bed rest, he felt better physically, though still not great.

The ache of being barred from the workshop, however, hadn’t diminished at all.

He poured the vials of improper strength potion down the sink and watched the murky liquid dribble down the drain.

He gritted his teeth and flung the vials against the bathroom wall. They shattered, sending fragments of glass everywhere.

How could he be so stupid!

He bent over the sink and glared at his own reflection. He snarled at the fool that had done this to him. The idiot that had betrayed his promise to Victor.

The one that kept him from his alchemy…

He punched his image. The mirror cracked, and blood trickled down his fist.

How could he be so reckless? He finally had a path… the thing his soul had yearned for all these years… and he’d just thrown it away!

He’d give anything to take that back…

He sighed and shook his head.

What was he doing now? Having a tantrum like a child? Yeah. That’d get Victor to let him back into the workshop for sure…

He picked fragments of glass out of his knuckles and ran water over his wound before cleaning and dressing it.

If he wanted to practice alchemy again, he needed to prove to Victor that he’d learned his lesson. That he could be trusted.

Despite still not feeling fantastic, he went down to the training room. He needed to take his mind off it, and to get back on his uncle’s good side…

He used a Potion of Heightened Senses from the stockpile he’d built up and went through his sword forms.

If he could just show Victor how hard he was working and how much this meant to him…

With his sharpened senses, he easily heard footsteps drawing closer. Had Victor changed his mind? He turned to face them as they approached the doorway.

It was Chamberlain Davison with a pack of his loyal guards.

Connor’s expression soured. What now?

Still… Victor no doubt heard everything that happened in the manor…

“How can I help you today?” Connor said as politely as he could manage.

Chamberlain Davison sneered and ignored him.

Great. This was going so well already.

Victor came around the corner with his own contingent of guards. They just happened to outnumber The Chamberlain and his cronies.

Chamberlain Davison pointed one of his sausage-fingers at Connor. “Why is he allowed to walk freely?” he asked.

Connor ground his teeth. “Is there some reason I should be bound?” he asked.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he regretted them. Twelve hells! What was he thinking? Bickering with The Chamberlain wasn’t going to win him any points with Victor, but the man was just so infuriating!

“You assaulted me!” Chamberlain Davison shrieked.

“Assaulted you?” Connor asked, “if I’d assaulted you, you’d be dead.”

“And now he threatens me! Do you see?” said Chamberlain Davison.

Connor’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “I wasn’t threatening you, I was stating a fact you sniveling—”

“Do you have any proof?” asked Victor, cutting off Connor before he could say anything more.

“Proof?” Chamberlain Davison spluttered, “what do I need proof for? My word is all the proof you need.”

“If you have no proof then this matter is over,” Victor said.

“My guards! My guards saw everything,” Chamberlain Davison said.

“I’m afraid that men under your employ can’t be counted on as reliable witnesses,” Victor said.

“I’ll have this brought before Prince Cynric if you don’t do something about him,” Chamberlain Davison snapped.

“Oh?” said Victor as he raised an eyebrow, “perhaps I can use it as a chance to bring a few other matters to his attention as well. Like some of your late night activities with the other nobles, and how you’ve been using palace funds to build up your own little power hungry faction.”

Chamberlain Davison’s eyes widened. “You have no proof of this,” he said.

“Try me,” Victor said.

The Chamberlain backed away from Victor as if he were a hungry tiger. “Well… perhaps I can overlook it… just this once,” he said.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“How thoughtful of you,” Victor said with an almost predatory smile.

Chamberlain Davison gave Connor another glare and stormed away.

“Slime,” Victor muttered so quietly that even Connor had trouble hearing it despite his potion.

Victor turned to Connor. “Why didn’t you bring this to my attention right away?” he asked.

“It was the day we fought, and you told me about who I really am… it slipped my mind. Besides, your guards came in, and I thought they would’ve reported it to you,” Connor said.

“They only told me you two argued,” Victor said, “so did you actually hit him?”

“No,” Connor said.

Victor’s eyes bored into him.

“Well…” Connor said.

“Spit it out,” Victor said.

“He prodded me with his finger, and I grabbed his hand and pulled it away,” Connor said, “I didn’t even break anything. I swear.”

Victor looked in the direction The Chamberlain had left. “We’re going to have to do something about that man,” he said, “and soon.”

“Why don’t you just go to Prince Cynric with what you have?” Connor asked.

Victor sighed. “Because I don’t have enough proof. I have your word, and the word of a few of my agents, but that isn’t enough to convince Prince Cynric of Davison’s guilt. He’s too high up and too well connected. We need something far more concrete,” he said.

“You were bluffing?” Connor said.

“Naturally,” said Victor.

“But you didn’t even twitch!” Connor said. Even his enhanced senses hadn’t picked up on anything to suggest that Victor had lied.

“This old dog still has some tricks up his sleeves, lad,” Victor said.

The rest of the day went by smoothly.

Connor finished his training, but all he could think about was getting back into the workshop again.

He tried to distract himself by picking another magical lock.

He pulled his magic down into his picks. It resisted him as it always did, and he sighed.

Part of him had hoped that after using his alchemy his magic would somehow start working properly, but it remained the same as before.

Why was there such a big difference between his alchemy and his magic?

If only there were a potion to fix that...

He rubbed his temples. Did it matter if there was? Until he got back into the workshop, none of that mattered.

Footsteps approached, bringing with them a familiar scent.

“Hi, Vadik,” Connor said without turning around, or even looking up from his lock.

“Do you have any idea how creepy that is? How do you do that? I swear you’re getting more like Victor by the day,” Vadik said.

Connor smirked, and his picks slipped out of the magical lock for the thousandth time.

Vadik chuckled. “Lock giving you trouble? You’re slipping, buddy. Need some help?” he asked.

Connor laughed. “If you can pick a magically protected lock then be my guest,” he said.

“What in the hells are you wasting your time trying to pick one of those for?” Vadik asked.

“I love a challenge,” Connor said with a wry smile, “besides, I’ve already picked one before. I just want to do it again. They’re pretty tricky though.”

“How did you manage that?” Vadik asked.

“It’s complicated,” Connor said, “I’m guessing you’re here to see Victor?”

“Afraid so,” Vadik said.

Connor set the lock down and turned to his friend. He scanned everything around them with his supernatural hearing, but there was no sign of anyone who might overhear them…

“Are you okay, Vadik?” he asked, “Victor told me you volunteered for it… but you’re walking a dangerous line.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” Vadik said, “I’m touched.”

“I just don’t want to be stuck paying for your funeral. Those things are expensive,” Connor said.

“And then there’s all my friends to invite,” Vadik added.

“What friends? This is you we’re talking about here,” Connor said, “Only way anyone other than me will attend is if I invite some of your enemies to dance on your grave.”

“Thou doth wound me so,” Vadik said with an exaggerated pose, and the two laughed.

One of Victor's personal guards appeared in the doorway, his posture stiff and formal like a disciplined military man. "Victor would like to see you in his office now," he said.

Connor followed Vadik into his uncle's office and stood behind his friend.

Victor might be upset with him, but he already knew about Vadik’s undercover work, and he wanted to know what was happening with his friend.

Victor leaned back in his chair. “Report,” he said.

"I’ve made my way further into Bvorn's inner circle. I’ve learned he is working under instruction from a new group. I haven’t been able to gain much information about them.

“But, what I do know is that they have deep pockets, and Bvorn is eager to please them. I think they’re connected to the increase in the slavery trade, but I haven’t been able to confirm that yet," Vadik said.

Victor wrote something down. His quill moved across the page like a blur, and he motioned for Vadik to continue.

"I have, however, found an informant who says he has more information on the new group. He works for one of the slavery rings, so I believe he may have overheard something. He is being tight-lipped though and requests a hundred gold coins for information.

“He’ll be on a boat just after sunset on the east side of the docks in three days. I expect he plans to leave as soon as he gets his gold or even before then. I don’t know what he learned, but it spooked him. I couldn’t learn more without risking blowing my cover, sir," Vadik said.

"Very well," Victor said, his face and voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather on a bright sunny day, "you’d better get back to Bvorn and stay there for a while. Don't come back here for a few weeks unless you come across something urgent. Watch how you behave even in The Stars of Night. We don’t know who Bvorn might have turned to his side.

“We need to be especially careful right now. We can't afford for him to think that you aren't his double agent. Connor will deal with the informant, you just make sure to keep your cover intact."

“Understood,” Vadik said. He saluted Victor and nodded to Connor on his way out of the room.

"I'm going to meet the informant uncle?" Connor asked.

Victor sighed. “I’m still mad at you, but you’re one of the few I can trust,” he said, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t deeply concerned about this. Remember the reports I told you about? They’re getting worse.

“The kingdom is coming down harder on slavery, but it continues to grow despite that. Kidnappings are higher than they’ve been in decades, and I still don’t know where they’re all going. Not even a trace of who is buying all these slaves!

“As if that wasn’t enough, an ambassador from one of the eastern kingdoms was assassinated right under my nose, and cults are springing up like weeds. Something big is happening, and we need to know what. I need someone I can trust to handle this.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll do it, on one condition,” he said, “I want to be allowed back in the workshop. I know I messed up, but I’m an alchemist now. I can never go back to the way things were before. I need to do alchemy. I’ll be more careful in future. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Victor’s eyes were unreadable. “You would endanger our lives and the lives of others by refusing the mission otherwise?” he asked.

“I don’t want to refuse the mission, uncle. I understand the importance of it, but I also need to get back to alchemy. I’m meant to be an alchemist. I can feel it in my bones,” Connor said.

“Complete the mission, and I’ll think about it,” Victor said.

Connor chaffed at the delay and the uncertainty, but he was pushing his luck already. “Very well,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

Victor went back to the documents on his desk, effectively dismissing Connor.

Connor stopped at the doorway. “Could I bring Adelia with me? As backup,” he asked.

“It’s your mission,” Victor said without looking up, “complete it how you see fit.”

Connor smiled. He could bring some of Victor’s guards with him, but he trusted his friend more. Not to mention, she was probably more lethal than a whole group of highly trained guards.

Besides, he liked the company.