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4.6 Bottles
🕑 Added 2024-08-07 00:37:17 +0000 UTCDifference: Minimal
“Maia,” was the simple introduction. Just one word from the woman’s mouth. At least her clothing clearly spoke volumes, mostly of status: Died silks, braided together in complex patterns that ended up forming the resemblance of flowerbed blooming over the uneven dress. Then a golden ring for every finger, a jewel displayed on each - though no earrings. She also did not bother with the glass badge. It was not needed. A blind man could see Maia stood out.
“The first concocter is not one for theatrics,” Asemo added. “But she is the most knowledgeable in her craft. I say it as no exaggeration that every city near and far envies her skill!”
“It is a pleasure,” Elizabeth offered with a slight smile. The first concocter seemed… unimpressed at best.
“She would love to have you around, despite the habitual grumbling,” Asemo said. “For rare guests like you, she would even bring out her best work!”
“Yes, it is rare to meet people who might be able to appreciate my labors,” Maia said though her acting was not… stellar. “I maintain a collection that even the Chosen may sometimes be interested in.”
“Pick anything you like, at my expense,” Asemo said. “I was unfortunately summoned for an urgent meeting which I cannot bring you along for. I hope that this will suffice as a distraction until my return.”
“It cannot hurt to have a look,” Irwyn spoke, he wondered how they compared to what little he had seen available in Abonisle.
Asemo quickly said her goodbyes and Maia quietly led them to a different room. It looked almost like a storage space – with supplies and various alchemical ingredients lying in piles or shelves. Except there was a glass wall at one end that led to what seemed to be a proper workshop.
Another person was already waiting for them. A tall woman with a welcoming smile. Her attire was not as simple as Asemo’s nor was it extravagant like Maia’s. She wore a well-fitting black dress which would have been called too revealing in the Duchy, and simple silver earrings.
“This is my assistant,” Maia simply said, pointing at the only person it could be. “She will be better at presenting as I get lost in the minutiae too often.
“Please, you may call me Melka,” the woman bowed and Irwyn noted how it was almost familiar. Like a respectful courtly bow he might have seen during the Exenn. And very much unlike anything he had seen in the City of Terraces so far. “Please, take a seat. We have elected for the authenticity of the first concocter's personal workshop but that is no reason to not rest your legs.”
Indeed, there were movable chairs in the corner of the room - bone again with a comfortable cushion. Irwyn was quickly realizing that wood and metals were either scarce or culturally disliked. Maybe both. Basically everything he would have expected to be wooden had been sculpted from bone. Some shapes were even such that he doubted any creature had ivory the shapes could have been carved from.
Maia had already taken one such seat and moved to the corner of the room behind them. Melka kept smiling and beckoned them to approach a wide stone counter placed right in front of the glass wall where they arranged in a row. Waylan intentionally placed his half a step behind the rest – not something they had agreed on but Irwyn was not going to disrupt the improvisation. Three rows of potions were placed upon the counter, all of various colors and even bottle shapes. Moreover, Irwyn unmistakably felt a noticeable amount of mana from the lot of them.
Things like the monster blood were magical, yes, and he could kind of feel that. He certainly felt the many other ingredients in the room. But the potions were much more distinct. Maybe because they were gathered next to one another, maybe because they had more purpose to them. The air was so deprived of ambient magic that even the smidgen leaking from the potions felt like a campfire in the night.
“To begin your perusal, perhaps it is only warranted to show an achievement first,” Melka picked up a potion, raising it. To Irwyn’s surprise, he realized it was purely non-magical. Not a smidgen of mana in it. “It is not an uncommon potion, but it is important because of its history. Although nowadays any concocter worth the name knows it, it was the first concoctor herself who had invented its recipe and spread it many years ago - the very achievement that had put her on track to claim that title.”
“What does it do?” Alice humored.
“It is an incredible cure,” Melka said with a wide smile. “Not a panacea by any means but still perhaps the most potent concoction to ever exist when we compare cost to effect. This potion will eliminate any infection and most diseases merely by drinking doses for a week!”
“Does it often cause indigestion, especially in prolonged use and have seemingly no effect on some specific illnesses?” Elizabeth asked while Melka was taking a breath to continue.
“Ah, yes,” the woman was momentarily taken off balance. “It seems that the Duchy Federation is in possession of similar creations then?”
“Antibiotics,” Elizabeth nodded. “A vital part of any society.”
“Wait, you just said they were invented here only years ago?” Alice spoke up with some alarm. “Did… people here just die from small cuts and common illnesses before then? What about infectious diseases? Would they just decimate cities?
“More expensive remedies have long been available,” Melka answered immediately. “And the Healer and her clergy are welcome in all cities, assisting all who aile. This potion, known as Laborman’s salvation, makes treatment far, far more available.”
“How do you deal with bacterial evolution?” Elizabeth said, getting everyone - including Irwyn - to turn to her in confusion. Melka especially hesitated for a few moments before desperately glancing into the corner of the room.
“The meaning might be lost in translation,” Maia answered the plea. “Could you elaborate?”
“Bacteria, micro-organisms?” Elizabeth tried, turning to the first concocter. “Beings far smaller than the eye can see, what do you call them here?”
“I don’t think there is a term for them as a whole,” Maia frowned. “Micro-organism is a sensible one I suppose. I have heard of such creatures but it is not my area of study, nor of anyone in the City of Terraces.”
“Ah, I see,” Elizabeth said, hiding disappointment. She glanced back at the potion. “What else do you have?”
“Perhaps this will be more to your liking, something practical,” Melka pivoted, taking a black potion that was magical. The glass was shaped and painted to look like an open eye. “A traveler might find that nights are quite a bit darker than they expected. Especially when the moons chooses to rest. This superb potion of Darkvision allows for sight even in the slightest trace of light.”
“How long do they last?” Elizabeth wondered out loud.
“The first concocters brew lasts as much as six hours!” Melka praised. “Of course, shorter doses are available.”
“Is that so?” Elizabeth inclined her head, reaching for her bag. From it she took a potion of her own – though almost nondescript at a glance. “Darkvision is not the most useful as it does require a trace of light as - if my guess is correct and tell me if it’s not - the potion merely amplifies a person’s perception of Light. That also means it can be blinding in daylight. What I have here is a potion of Pride’s sight. It poses no such limitations as it grants the ability to see thanks to darkness as well as Light.”
And from there it continued in a similar manner. Irwyn could almost feel the first concocter stewing in rage behind them and only getting worse with time. For while Elizabeth always advertised not using external power, she had stocked up on all manners of potions, pills, scrolls, and such that might prove helpful in a pinch. It also happened that what the Duchy of Black produced was always more potent, lasted longer, had more forgiving shelf life, and overall outshined the first concocter.
It wasn’t even that Elizabeth had the equivalent for all of them. For example, she did not have a potion that allowed people to glow in the eyes of everyone else who took a sip from the same dose, or a draught that kept people perfectly hydrated for several days without needing to drink. But even for those she could not directly show a better version of, Elizabeth offered harsh critique, spotting a weak point, then tearing into the potion’s usefulness. Irwyn found a few of them interesting! But he held his tongue and let Elizabeth conclude whatever her plan was.
And it felt like it was too much. Elizabeth was always exceedingly polite in her words but she knew what she was doing, stomping over the first concoter’s pride with complete disregard for someone who clearly thought very highly of themselves. And Maia really did not seem to be enjoying it. From her body language, Irwyn guessed that if they gave her one good excuse she would kick them out.
“And that one?” Elizabeth pointed at a softly glowing yellow potion that had been placed to the back. Quite possibly even the last one as Melka had switched to showing things off out of order to hopefully catch Elizabeth unprepared. This bottle had been wholly skipped in the exposition so far and had no labels.
“This one…” Melka. paused, clearly unsure. She withdrew it from the case and despite its glow, it did not contain any mana to speak of… but there was still a sliver of power tangible, swirling around it.
“Bottled faith,” Maia spoke over her hesitant helper, her voice barely containing the anger. “I have distilled worship and belief into a flask. Have you seen that before traveler? No? I thought so. An incredibly difficult process for its value… but it does not spoil unlike most concoctions so I keep it around as almost a trophy.”
“What is it even useful for?” Alice asked curiously before Elizabeth had an opportunity to politely jab again.
“In theory, it would allow someone to request a bigger miracle from Her Majesty Prosperity than would usually be possible - the power needed to be provided by the potion,” Maia explained. “Unfortunately, in practice, anyone who could afford it already has the favor to not require it. Refining it has been low priority.”
During that explanation, Irwyn felt Waylan nudging him. Subtly. Irwyn did not do something as obvious as to look down at his friend. They had a system, even if it had been a damn eternity since they last needed to communicate through it. Hand signs usually worked - but once in a while a thief needed to say something to their friend while already talking. Without being seen. There was a pause in the nudging, then Waylan tapped Irwyn several times to his flank. There was a limit to the nuance which could be relayed by taps… but Irwyn saw only one real interpretation.
“I have never seen faith so… coalesced,” Irwyn improvised. “If it is not useful, I think could be education to see how it would react to magecraft.”
“Of course, as librarian Asemo had said, you may take whatever you wish,” Melka immediately allowed.
“Anything else that interests your curiosity,” Maia spoke, almost glaring at Elizabeth. “Some of these I have only shown to the Chosen before. Many have traveled the sands from cities far just for the opportunity to peruse my work.”
“I do not doubt you have no equals,” Elizabeth said neutrally. “Not here.”
“But?” Maia said venomously, barely holding onto a crooked smile. Meanwhile, Melka wildly gestured at the edge of their line of sight next to the cabinet and was not taken into account. “I have built this place with my own two hands. Half the potions here were invented by me. You have blatantly shown that you Federation has collectively more knowledge and better recipes. But do not doubt my skill.”
“Perhaps my companions found them more of interest,” Elizabeth smiled. “Alas, I have seen far too many impossible things to be impressed by the work of mortal hands.”
“Try me,” Maia’s own smile fully slipped. “Whatever ‘wonder’ you have witnessed, it can be reproduced. All it takes is the knowledge of how.”
“Do you know what an Ambrosia is, Maia?” Elizabeth smiled.
“Nectar of gods,” the concocter immediately replied, everyone still ignoring Melka who seemed to realize that and stopped trying for the moment. “Myth has it that mortal lips will forever be ruined from a single sip, never to enjoy any food or drink ever again in comparison. Of course, it is merely a myth. If the gods truly desire such a beverage, it would be only the Chose who would be allowed to know its ingredients.”
“We in the Duchy Federation attribute it a different meaning,” Elizabeth shook her head. “It requires three ingredients: The Soul of a man who had shattered the heavens themselves - bloomed into a flower; the heart of a monster that could break a city with a single swing of its claws - cut out while it yet lived; and the hand of a sage who had walked the world for two centuries and learned every secret hidden therein. Only then it can be created… I supposed it would not be completely wrong to call it liquid Fate. Whoever drinks it becomes destined for great, impossible things.”
“Not much different from ours then, also a brew of myth,” Maia nodded carefully. “Our stories are similarly unfeasible.”
“My family’s vaults hold 35 such doses of Ambrosia,” Elizabeth grinned a bit savagely. “So, excuse me for not finding the wonder in things that do not defy comprehension.”
To that the first concocter seemed at a loss what to say. Melka desperately grabbed onto that as an opportunity to redirect tensions. “If any of you change your minds, this collection remains open to be perused.”
“I think we would like to retreat,” Elizabeth said, turning to Melka while the first concocter still glared holes into her back. “That cheese… now that was rather interesting. What animal is the milk from?”
****
“That was a bit too much, no?” Waylan said when they had privacy. And two platters of the cheese. The creature that produced it was called Vihorn, rare cattle that only the followers of Prosperity kept - they didn’t quite catch why.
“I have to agree,” Irwyn nodded. “Was that wise?”
“I will not lie that I did not like that woman’s look,” Elizabeth shrugged. “But there is a good reason for this: Asemo wants to convert us as she had stated, and we don’t want them to get too obsessed with what is impossible. So, if someone of clearly high standing were to obstruct those efforts - even if only out of petty spite - it will serve us well by driving division into their ranks. You may have noticed Maia failed to even try and make a proper pitch for their religion. I don’t intend to get bogged down in this city for more than a day or two. Ideally, I would like to obtain directions, some local currency, and then be gone before noon tomorrow.”
“We cannot even sightsee?” Alice made a slightly displeased face.
“If there is something interesting I don’t mind spending more time,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Our schedule is not strict. But so far I remain unimpressed. There are bound to be actually fascinating things out there rather than 4th rate alchemists thinking their lackluster potions are worth gawking over. There was exactly one worth some mild curiosity. Irwyn?”
“It was actually Waylan who wanted it,” Irwyn shrugged, using the moment to take it out and hand it to his friend.
“I decided to keep a low profile, someone more out of the group,” Waylan nodded, taking the bottle. “Obvious weakness if they want to approach someone to talk into a backstabbing – works as an early warning if they try. Also, I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. I am at my best when no one checks if my bed is empty.”
“What interests you in it anyway?” Elizabeth nodded.
“Faith, faith, faith,” Waylan said a few times. “Made me think about some things. For example, how is it different from just ‘belief’?”
“In direction, presumably,” Alice said. “Faith implies some kind of god is involved as the target.”
“I heard that artifacts are magical things transformed with belief, right?” Waylan continued, glancing around for anyone who might gainsay that.
“Elizabeth once told me that artifacts are basically the same as gods, just far less whimsical and, well, objects,” Irwyn saw the direction Waylan was thinking in.
“A legend makes an artifact,” Elizabeth confirmed. “The same can go for gods. Their creations are very similar in many ways.”
“And if I can eat artifacts?” Waylan smiled, popped open the flask, and before anyone could think to caution against it, he chugged it down. For a moment, his tattoos turned slightly darker, deeper. Almost alive, as if they wanted to expand again. Alas, they quickly settled down, not visibly expanding from what little faith that flask had contained. “Makes me wonder, what else could fit, eh?”
Comments
Andrew Wells
I fucking love waylan. Such a chad
FuriousDee
I wonder if old crow is the reason there are no gods in the Dutchy of black
Appl
Oh, Waylan is a god-eater. I did not expect that.
Joseph
Mma
