Touch of Fate

Chapter 142: The Final Ingredient

Mike walked out of 'Alchemical Needs' feeling quite pleased with himself. His extradimensional sack was now carrying a selection of alchemical items which would jumpstart his pursuit of the craft, he had a skilled practitioner to offer him guidance when he got stuck, and it had cost him was something he could make with a few cheap ingredients and a fair amount of luck.

All in all, he'd come out ahead. So with a bounce in his step he strode back out into the busy streets. There were still a few more places he wanted to visit before he headed back to the University. With any luck his next couple of stops would be a lucrative as this last one.

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Gail watched the strange young man walk out of her door and made sure he wasn't coming back, before looking down at the vial of silver liquid in her hand. She ran a finger along the cool glass reverently.

How long had she been searching for the last component of her great recipe? Now, after she'd given up hope, it had come to her in the hands of a lucky novice who'd stumbled upon it through pure coincidence. She suspected that he'd figured out the recipe by accident, and was merely bluffing about future discoveries, but it mattered little.

Her only regret was that it wasn't a High-Grade Panacea. The Mid-Grade would serve, but its lower potency would degrade the overall effect of her recipe. Unfortunately, it seemed the golden version of the potion only existed in legend, as even the Star Elves themselves had lost the means to make it.

Gail took a deep breath. No matter. The Mid-Grade would serve well enough.

With a forced calm, she walked over and locked the door to her shop, ensuring she wouldn't be disturbed by any nosy customers. Then, taking out a key that she hadn't used in several months, she moved over to the trap door hidden under a rug in the corner. Unlocking it, she pulled the door open with a grunt. It was taking more and more effort to lift it, and she knew that there would a time when she lacked the strength to even shift the heavy wooden contraption.

[Or, at least there would have been.]

Knees cracking and popping in protest, she carefully descended the stairs. The last thing she needed right now, was to fall and break a hip. Given her lack of friends, family, or even regular customers, it would likely lead to a long, slow death in the basement of her own store.

So, it was with some measure of relief that she finally placed her feet on the stone floor. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she moved over to her pill furnace, and started the process of igniting the mammoth contraption. Cursing her lazy past self, who neglected refilling it with the specially treated coal, she began shoveling the dark pellets into the furnace.

With much effort, she eventually got the thing working, and started gathering the laundry list of items that composed her greatest accomplishment. Water distilled from the melted snow of Kargathi Peak, dried Ancillus Moss, tears of an Emerald Sphinx, the fang of a Vampire Lord, and many more ingredients were poured into the crucible.

Two hours into the process, she removed the vial of panacea from a pocket. Removing the stopper, she waited near the door to the furnace. She needed to time this next part just right, or risk spoiling the entire process.

Gail watched the bubbling surface of the mixture patiently. As soon as it still, she poured the entire vial in. It was regrettable that she wouldn't have enough to make a second attempt, but she couldn't afford to be stingy.

Slamming the door shut, she increased the heat, knowing that she'd done all she could, and the only thing left to do, was wait for the results. After several minutes of hissing and vibrating, the furnace stilled, and she feared that she'd failed.

Finally, a cloud of steam exploded out of the furnace, tearing the door off of its hinges. Fortunately, Gail was standing far enough away to avoid injury. When the steam had cleared, she hesitantly stepped forward to observe her work.

Resting inside of the crucible was a pearlescant sphere that glowed with a soft, silvery light. Reverently, she grabbed it with a pair of tongs, and dropped it onto a waiting plate to cool. She could hardly contain her excitement. Her entire career as an alchemist had led up to this point.

With shaking hands she reached out towards it, taking the time to notice how thin and wrinkled they were. Clutching the pill, she brought it carefully to her mouth, not wanting to risk any mishap. It tasted sweet, melting on her tongue, before she shallowed it and waited for the effects to take hold.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then an intense bout of pain doubled her over. It felt like her guts were trying to tie themselves into knots. Waves of white hot fire seemed to sweep through her form, burning her from the inside out. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. All she could do was wait for the agony to pass.

An unknowable time later, she found herself laying on her side, drenched in sweat. She brought her hands up in front of her face, and couldn't suppress a groan at the sight of her wrinkled, arthritic hands. It seemed to have been a failure, but she felt strangely energized at the same time.

Standing, she marvelled at the recovered strength of her limbs. It had been decades since she could rise to her feet without a myriad of aches and pains. She felt 40 years younger, if only on the inside.

Glancing at her status, she saw her age remained the same, but her Lifespan Attribute had almost doubled.

[So more of a partial success than a complete failure. Oh well, at least I feel young again. Never was much of a looker, anyway.]

Grumbling to herself in an effort to assuage her vanity, Gail cleaned up the basement, and climbed back upstairs, easily. Despite her mixed feelings about her new 'student,' she found herself looking forward to his next visit.

If he could make legendary medicines out of some junk found lying around a school storage closet, then it will be interesting to see what he'll end up creating with proper supplies and guidance.

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Sitting at an open air caf where he had stopped to eat dinner, Mike took a moment to examine the spoils of his shopping. He'd eventually found one of the crafting supply stores Gail had mentioned, and took some time to peruse the wares.

Unfortunately, the basic alchemy supplies they offered were overpriced and poor quality. He could see now why Gail was so quick to dismiss it. With a shrug, he moved on to scrivening materials.

According to the book he'd picked up from the library, creating scrolls only required three basic components. First was the parchment or paper used as the base. While it was technically possible to use any solid material for this purpose, the guide recommended using high quality paper, since it improved the flow of mana through the scroll. Knowing that there would probably be a lot of trial and error while he was learning the skill, he had already picked up a pack of cheap paper from a stationary merchant.

Second was the ink which stored the Mana used in the spell and channeled through the scroll's runes to create the desired effect. This ink was actually created through a simple alchemical recipe from powder mana cores and pigments. While the store did sell the pre-made varieties, he felt pretty confident in his ability to produce the ink on his own, so he grabbed a block of treated charcoal that the book recommended as a pigment.

The last item he needed was a specially designed quill with a minor enchantment, which allowed it to store and steadily distribute the magical inks used in Scrivening. Of course this was the most expensive part, costing at least twenty gold. Higher end models were sold for more than a hundred, and had to be specially ordered.

Since he wasn't planning on making a career out of it, he went ahead and picked up the cheapest version available.

Feeling hungry he took a moment to stop at the open air cafe, eat, and consider how to spend the rest of the evening. He'd more or less completed everything he'd set out to do.

[I guess I can go look for a new sword.]

The one he'd used yesterday had been warped by the intensity of his Fire Magic, rendering it nearly useless. He was starting to like the idea of unarmed combat more and more, since unlike broken weapons, his fists healed.

Paying his bill, Mike stood and started canvasing the district a third time. He mentally prepared himself for spending a good amount of money on a decent, hopefully enchanted weapon. Until he learned how to make one himself, it would be necessary to have a good one he could depend on. That or simply buy a whole bunch of cheap ones and swap them out when they break.

The idea was a strangely appealing one. More so when he considered the possibility of one day using Space Magic to store and fire them like projectiles in a way that would satisfy his inner nerd. However, he was still a long way away from doing anything like that. Shaking away the fantasies, he spotted a promising looking shop.

Built on the corner of two major streets, the smithy was clearly separated into two distinct parts. One serving as the storefront, and another devoted solely to the actual workplace. Judging from the sounds of clanking metal and waves of heat rolling out of the open door, the occupants were still working.

He headed over to the store side, taking note of the lettering written above the door.

Entering 'The Cracked Anvil,' the first thing Mike noticed was the smell, a strangely pleasant mixture of steel, leather, and oil. As a multipurpose smithy, the store carried a variety of metal tools and products, and only a third of the sales floor was devoted to displays of weapons and armor.

"Welcome." A gruff, bearded man called from behind a counter. With his slab-like arms and fierce appearance, he looked like a stereotypical blacksmith. A quick Appraise told him otherwise.

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Gearhart

Age: 43

Race: Human

Class: Storekeeper

Title: Honest

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[Well, at least he's honest.]

Mike nodded his greeting, before moving over to inspect the displayed weapons. Unfortunately, it didn't look like there was anything that would really suit his needs. Wondering if they might be keeping some of their more valuable items somewhere else, he approached the counter. Gearhart looked up from the ledger he was currently reviewing with an expectant gaze.

"I'm looking for a new longsword. Preferably a durable one. Do you happen to have anything like that in stock?" Mike asked.

"You've already seen the weapons we currently have on sale." The storekeeper replied while gesturing towards the display he'd already looked over. "Everything else needs to be custom ordered. I can help you through that process if you want, but keep in mind that it will require a deposit and may take a few weeks to complete."

Mike frowned. While that wasn't a major problem for him, he was hoping to have a solution for the issue in the short term. Then it hit him that his might be the chance he was looking for.

"Do you perhaps offer lessons on blacksmithing?"

Gearhart gave him a level look. "We do take on apprentices, but that usually incurs a labor debt of at least three years. More, if you want to actually master the craft. We do not, however, offer lessons."

"Would you be willing to make an exception? If you can give me a few hours of instruction, I'd be willing to pay for it." Mike replied, taking a moment to flash a handful of gold coins.

The shopkeeper stared at him, evidently doing some mental calculations, before sighing heavily. "Alright, let me ask my wife."