The Newt and Demon

Theo settled on two simple reagents for his first run at fermentation. According to his information, the reaction only needed motes to occur. There was no need for yeast to break the sugars down, that all came down to magic. The reagent he had the biggest stockpile of was [Spiny Swamp Thistle Root], followed by [Moss Nettle]. They both produced the valuable restoration potions that every adventurer seemed to desire and was curious as to the modifiers they would produce.

The process was simple, especially when compared to distillation. The [Alchemical Grinder Artifice] magically resized itself to fit onto the top of the first barrel. He simply piled 50 of the healing roots over the first barrel, and 50 of the stamina regeneration moss over the other. The grinder whirred to life, cutting the reagents into a perfect mash. The contents within both barrels glowed with a faint green light. A system prompt followed shortly after.

[Alchemy Fermentation Barrel] requires one of the following:

Mana Input from user.

Mote Input from user.

Theo was certain that Basic Drogramath Alchemy said it required at least a mote, and perhaps mana. His intuition said this was a discrepancy between the fermentation vessel he was meant to use, and the one Sledge had fabricated. The alchemist shrugged, placing an [Earth Mote] in each barrel and closing the lids. He had a sense that a 50 unit fermentation would take a shorter time than a 100 unit fermentation, but couldn’t get a solid grasp on how much longer.

The fermentation process was a new thing for the lab. Where distillation required constant attention to avoid the overflowing flasks, the fermentation barrels would do their work with no attention. Theo turned his attention to some leftover [Flame Essence]. He wasn’t currently under contract from Fenian and had enough potions in the store to last a few more days. He could experiment with the dangerous essence, although he wished he had the experimentation room upgrade for the lab.

In the gravel yard behind the Newt and Demon, Theo began his experimentation. The goal was to create something that would be safe for people to use. His complex contraption from before had more failure points than he could count, and looking back on it he realized it was a miracle it didn’t misfire. His plan wasn’t to abandon the concept entirely, but to make it safer for the user.

[Flame Essence] was the most temperamental essence Theo had ever worked with. It refused to react stably. Introducing tenth of a unit drops of the essence into [Purified Water] saw violent reactions. The water bubbled ominously on the first attempt and created a minor explosion on the second. Even [Stable Water] didn’t do the trick, seeing a similar if less violent reaction. The Drogramathi tome mentioned the volatile nature of offensive essences.

Theo experimented for some time with that essence, finding it to be impossible to work with. His understanding of essences, the thing that brought him his breakthrough, revealed the problem with his planned firebomb. Until he could remove the impurities through the pressure tank, the project wouldn’t work. The second and third properties on the essence were still present, preventing him from getting a stable reaction in the potion form. He nodded to himself, making a mental note about the issue, before returning to the Newt and Demon.

“Very unimpressive explosions today,” Azrug said, tutting. The shopkeeper was leaning against the counter, shaking his head.

“I need to wait for Throk to make my pressure artifice,” Theo said. “I can’t work the next tier of potions without it.”

“Well, I’m selling things. Getting experience. Increasing my stats,” Azrug said, grinning.

“How do you gain experience with mercantile-focused cores?” Theo asked.

“Selling stuff,” Azrug said.. “Speaking of, I have a proposition.”

“Ah,” Theo said, closing his eyes for a moment. “Let’s hear it.”

“I want to sell other stuff. Not just potions,” Azrug said. “We don’t have a general store in town. Adventurers can barter with the townsfolk, but there’s no centralized place. I’ve had many people come looking for supplies. Food, water, maps, all that.”

“Perhaps you could sell adventuring kits,” Theo said. “Bundle them with potions. Rations, water—you could use the glassware artifice for bottled water—whatever else you can think of.”

“Problem is, that stuff is expensive,” Azrug said, a slight frown painting his face.

“And you’re broke,” Theo said, sensing another investment coming.

“Well, I’m not broke,” Azrug said. “But I can’t afford to buy supplies for the shop.”

Theo waved a dismissive hand. “Just hold back the money you make from the shop. Take your cut and reinvest the rest.”

Azrug’s face lit up. “You think it's a good idea?”

“Listen to your cores,” Theo said, nearly grimacing at his advice. “You’re the expert.”

“Okay, good. I already posted a notice at the adventurer’s guild about mapping routes to the dungeons,” Azrug said, jabbering. “I signed a deal with Throk to display his work here at a fee. You’ll get a cut of everything, don’t worry.”

Theo smiled. “I wasn’t worried. You blew in this place like a storm to start with. Took over and started selling stuff better than I ever could. You’ve run this place better than I ever could.”

“Thanks, Theo,” Azrug said.

A sound like rolling thunder came from outside the shop. Theo narrowed his eyes at the door, recognizing that specific cadence. Azrug’s brow knit tightly. “Thunder? Lots of thunder?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Theo said, letting out a heavy sigh. He pushed his way outside, squinting north toward the town center.

He spotted the wreaths of dark fire before he saw the carriage. A mighty vessel built for war, armored and lacquered black, came barreling toward him. The five creatures that pulled it were the demonic Karatan of Fenian Feintleaf, driving hard across the hard cobbles. They looked like normal Karatan, according to the Elf, although Theo had never seen a regular one. These demonic Karatan were multi-limbed horse-like creatures that looked more centipede than horse. The carriage rumbled to a stop, the lead horse Galflower letting out a sound like a chittering whinny.

The merchant Elf, Fenian, sat atop the carriage, flashing a devious smile. His pale skin, damp from the constant rain, caught what little light there was. He wore his traditional ruffled tunic, ruffled coat, and pants with more ruffles. The hat that sat upon his head was adorned with a long, red feather ending in an intricate runic pattern. Fenian dismounted, affected a deep bow near his lead horse, and smiled wider.

“Theo,” Fenian said. “Galflower!”

The Elf turned on the spot, stomping his feet in anger. Galflower had removed the hat from his head and was happily munching on the fabric. The merchant slapped at the side of the creature’s chitinous face to little effect. He let out an exasperated breath, retreating to the back of the carriage to retrieve another hat. This one was just as fancy as the last, but lacked the interesting plumage on top.

“Fenian,” Theo said, reaching out a hand for the Elf to shake. “I didn’t expect you in Broken Tusk.”

“Nor should you have,” Fenian said, casting one last glare at his horse. “I’m here on other business. My courier business.”

A small man stepped out of the side of the carriage, blustering. He was shorter than a Marshling by a head, his tan fur bristling from the jostle of the ride. He stomped across the wet cobbles and extended a hand for Theo to shake. The alchemist had to stoop low to accomplish the task. He noticed how much the man’s appearance resembled that of a hamster. The resplendent robe gave him away as someone important.

“Bagragrubbin Rubgrubbin Grubbin, at your service, mayor,” the man said.

Theo blinked. “Pardon me?”

Fenian laughed, for perhaps the first time. Theo cast him a glare, then turned his attention back down to the small man.

“The Broglings all have long names. They typically take a shorter name,” Fenian said, finally stifling his chuckles. “I’ve taken to calling this fine gentleman Grub.”

“Grub is fine,” Grub said, waving dismissively. “Now, if you could file a formal complaint with me against this smuggler. That ride was anything but pleasant.”

“Trust me,” Fenian said. “You wouldn’t want to travel those roads with anything but the best. And this is thebest carriage in the land.”

“Fenian, are you going to stick around for a while?” Theo asked.

“Yes, at least the rest of the day,” Fenian said.

“Good. I’ll find you later,” Theo said. “Grub, would you like to come inside to discuss business?”

Grub straightened himself up, pulling at the ends of his tiny coat. A smile spread across his chubby face. “Certainly. Good to see someone has a sense of decorum.”

Theo gave his greetings to Azrug, pushing through the shop section of the Newt and Demon to ascend the stairs. Grub followed closely behind, having trouble with the stairs before finally pulling himself to the landing. They settled in near the window, the little Brogling jumping to get onto his chair. The alchemist smiled, gesturing to his well-used tea kettle.

“Tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Theo put a pot of [Purified Water] on his [Flame Artifice], setting it low and returning his attention to the man. “You’re here for the taxes,” he said.

“Indeed, and more,” Grub said, straightening his little coat. “You have friends in high places, Theo Spencer. Places that even I can’t reach.”

Theo narrowed his eyes, his suspicions peaking. Someone in Qavell put him here for a reason. What that reason was sat in the realm of speculation, something he couldn’t hope to penetrate. The functionary sitting before him even knew more, but that was a matter for another time. News outside of Broken Tusk came in slowly, censored ‌by Qavell itself. More than anything, the alchemist wanted to know about the state of the kingdom.

“What’s this business with the roads?” Theo asked.

“An insurrection,” Grub said with a weak smile.

“A civil war?” Theo asked.

“Not quite,” Grub said. “Well, I suppose this is privileged information. But, yes. A small sect of cultists has risen, but they won’t last long—they never do. The crown has summoned the irregulars, while the bulk of her force battles in the west.”

“Sounds like something a mayor should have been informed about,” Theo said. He felt a strange appraising sensation wash over his body as Grub narrowed his eyes for a moment. He realized the functionary was inspecting him.

Grub let out a long sigh. “I’m here to collect your taxes. I put in an order to your town to begin a manual collection for a reason.”

“What reason might that be?” Theo asked.

“Well, you’re level 10. So, you have access to a third core slot with any luck. You haven’t taken a new core, so I’d like to advise you on some finer points of politics,” Grub said.

Theo groaned. He wasn’t very interested in politics.

“Now, it might be daunting but it's necessary,” Grub said. “Politics is about more than just backstabbing and betrayal. Important things happen in the political realm, so I’d advise you to take an administration core.”

“Alright, what are the advantages? I have an advisor who is pushing me to [Loremaster], rather than administration,” Theo said.

“A scholar? Perhaps a high-level adventurer,” Grub said, nodding. “Right, [Loremaster] is a good pick. A great pick if you can find a legendary core. Those goals are short term, though. I can sense something inside you. A fiercely independent spirit, which is a good thing. So, I’ll lay this out for you plainly. Something is strange in Broken Tusk. There are forces at play that the crown doesn’t understand, and it doesn’t want to get involved. I’ve never seen an independent adventurer’s guild get approval so quickly. Your requests for funding are being signed by a blind man, it would seem.”

Grub nodded his head to the steaming kettle. Theo removed it from the fire and set it down on the wood table, adding some moss to the mix and stirring it gently. He replaced the lid and turned his attention back to the functionary.

“What does that have to do with my cores?”

“You could take another core, perhaps make some decent profits. A gold here or there, but that’s not where the money is at. If you want Broken Tusk to thrive, you’ll take your leadership role seriously. How much money are you making on exports?”

Theo stammered for a second. He pulled his mayoral screen up and scanned through the various tabs. There was a section for exports, but the data was incomplete.

“I don’t know,” Theo said.

“Because you have to work the numbers manually without a core,” Grub said with a shake of his head. “I know you have the means. I urge you to pick up a [Governance Core] as soon as possible. They’re terribly expensive, but I have a feeling someone in the king’s court will approve a subsidy.”

Theo steepled his fingers and turned his attention to the wisps of vapor rising from the teakettle. The earthy, citrus smell filled the lab. Someone in the court had an interest in Broken Tusk. That person might be the same person who coerced Miana to keep the town as it was, reserving it for the alchemist’s arrival. If this was a good thing was beyond him. Another thought crossed his mind.

“Can’t I just swap the cores out?” Theo asked. “When needed.”

“Of course. Talk to whoever is consulting for you on this matter, though. The process is difficult, and reserved for someone of a high level. It is quite painful, if you’re under-leveled.”

“So, what are the benefits I’d get from an administration core?” Theo asked. “Sell it to me.”

“Well, that’s where I was going. The true power of a core focused on governance is your ability to interact with other towns,” Grub said. “Have you considered that Rivers and Daub might want to buy the stone you’ve been exporting? Or perhaps your abundance of timber?”

“What use would they have of stone and wood?” Theo asked.

“When a town crosses the level 20 threshold, they require materials to maintain themselves. I suppose you haven’t noticed, since you’ve been feeding your town cores constantly, but a town degrades over time. Before level 20, it simply requires [Monster Cores] to survive, unless damaged. After that point, you need to feed it motes and raw materials such as stone and timber, along with other things,” Grub said. “There, I’ve filled in the gaps of your knowledge. You should get a refund from your advisor. Or perhaps you should speak with your contact more often.”

Grub paused for a long moment, gesturing to the tea. Theo obeyed the silent command, pouring out two cups of the steaming liquid. He took a tentative sip as the information rolled over in his mind. The Brogling took a sip of his own, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“So, the legendary [Governance Core] will grant you a few abilities by default. Everything is tallied automatically. Population, finances, town resource levels, all of that. Once you have the core, a tree of skills opens up. I recommend the [Contracts] skill,” Grub said. Theo deduced the man had such a core, because a window appeared describing the skill.

[Contracts]

Governance Skill

Epic

Allows the user to create binding contracts between parties. These parties may be individuals, or entire towns or cities. The extent of the contract is agreed upon, including duration, payment, and expectations, by both parties.

Effect:

Allows the user to track contracts like quests.

Allows the user to create contracts.

“You’re implying I could create trade deals,” Theo said.

“Exactly,” Grub said, smiling. “Excellent tea, by the way. The best part about the [Governance Core] is that you’ll gain experience by doing what you’re already doing. The high-level skills for the core are quite good. It starts with a reduction of tax and goes as high as creating money from thin air. Rewards for trade agreements and growth.”

“You’re saying I’d be a fool not to take it,” Theo said, nodding.

“I am,” Grub said.

The Brogling wasn’t being rude about it, and Theo had to wonder what Uharis had to gain by steering him away from the core. Perhaps it was a hatred for the government that dwelled in the Archmage. The alchemist wouldn’t make a decision like this lightly. He’d consult both Fenian and Uharis on the matter before going through with it.

“You’ve convinced me,” Theo said, lying. “Now, what tax does the town owe?”

“That’s the curious thing,” Grub said, revealing another sheepish smile. “Very little. I’m assuming you haven’t tampered with the town’s seed core, but you only owe a single gold coin. You were 5 silver in debt before you transitioned from your old world. By the time Miana transferred the mayor’s position, you had soared well beyond that. Again, friends in high places.”

There was a tone in the man’s voice that said he knew Theo didn’t know what he was talking about. It was like being the mouse when a cat came to play. The alchemist withdrew a single gold coin and handed it over to the man.

“Are you staying in town for a while?” Theo asked, knowing that Fenian said he’d only stay for the day.

“Just for today,” Grub said, taking the coin. “Then I’ll climb back in that death trap and head back for Qavell.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want‌,” Theo said.

“Do you have any more questions?” Grub asked.

Theo had a hundred questions that he knew wouldn’t find answers from the Brogling. “Not at this time.”

“Well, I’ll run around and explore what you’ve done for the rest of the day. I have a feeling I’m going to be impressed by your progress,” Grub said, standing, shaking Theo’s hand, and departing from the lab.

Theo was left to sit there with his thoughts on the matter. The [Governance Core] was appealing to him. More so than the [Loremaster’s Core] at this point. He summoned his mayoral screen again, scanning through the incomplete data and frowning. His time spent working on his barrier caused the town to suffer. He wasn’t fulfilling his duties, even if he didn’t want them in the first place.

I need to speak to Fenian, Theo said, sending a mental message to Tresk.

What for?

I have a feeling I need an administrator’s core.

Dang. I had a feeling you were gonna identify all my junk!

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