Enlightened Empire

The honored, free city of Etra was a stinking mess. Now that they were out in the open and saw the streets in the morning light, the thought returned to Corco once again. The warming sunshine did nothing to brighten up the alleys sprayed in gray and brown, which gave an accurate representation of the unspeakable smells around them. With every step he took, Corco’s boots got sucked into the deep mixture of mud and stars knew what else which covered the main roads. No surprise, as Etra wasn’t any worse than all the other so-called cities Corco had seen on the Arcavus continent. Their dirt roads, narrow and flanked by stone houses, couldn’t hold a candle to the wide, plastered streets of Arguna. Not to mention that in terms of size, this place was only barely the size of some towns within the Medala Empire, let alone the major cities.

As always when the crown prince of Medala walked around the smelly towns of Arcavia, he could feel the hostile stares of the hemp-clothed commoners around him, wary of the ’otherness’ he and his men represented.

If it had been before, Corco would have shown nothing but disdain for them, simple minds incapable of understanding just who stood before them. After all, he, the crown prince of the powerful Medala Empire wouldn’t sink so low as to compare himself to those heretic Arcavians, people who would throw their own filth out onto the street without shame. Even at his lowest point, forced to become a merchant’s apprentice, his pride had still been intact. In many ways, it had limited their options and made the last two years far more arduous.

After last night, he could now understand what the people around him saw, as if he was looking in from the outside. Their group was much too unusual. The three foreign warriors, with long hair and strange, dark skin, two of them massive in size, plus a young borna boy. To further contrast their foreign nature, they would wear expensive, multi-layered shirts, like well to-do men of Arcavia. It would have been surprising if they didn’t attract suspicion. It would complicate their every move. Yesterday, Corco might have still been belligerent about this, but by now, his perspective had changed. He still wasn’t sure just what had happened to him right as he tried to drink that deadly cup of wine. For now however, he would just accept the gifts he had been given, and use the wisdom to the best of his abilities. He could still consider his future or his sanity once they had time to calm down.

"The hyenas are still on our heels," Atau said from his left. Unlike Corco, the large warrior didn’t care about any of the stares around himself. He had inherited his father’s swagger, though not his candor.

"Let them," Corco answered without looking back. Over the past three days, since Duke Herak had seized the entire estate of Gerrit Fastgrade, the duke’s men had followed them step by step, ever closer. It was obvious that after he had taken the old Fastgrade’s company, the duke was determined to swallow every last bite.

"It’s better if we see them. At least this way we know exactly where they are." For Corco, there was nothing new to see even if he looked. Instead, he peeked down a side street to orient himself. They would need to do some shopping, but he had to find the market first.

"This is the greatest shame House Pluritac has ever suffered," his personal attendant, and good friend, Fadelio insisted again in a voice steeped in wrath, "If only we still had our warriors we would crush them like bugs. I tell you, if I ever see that shameless snake Quirinu again I’ll bury him in salt until it burns right through his eyes."

"Forget about it," Corco replied with the same indifference as before, to suppress the warrior’s sweltering rage. Last night had opened up his eyes to many things. At the moment, he found it hard to care much about himself, or about his pride. "Quirinu and the other warriors only did what they had to for survival. I can’t even provide for you guys, let alone another fifty men. Plus, working for a mere merchant is a shame much greater than what most Medala warriors would be willing to bear."

"That’s still so weird. Here, merchants are men of status. Just look at how father was greeted every time he came to visit the duke. Why would your people hate the traders so much?"

The short and stubby Brym hopped through the mud, as he tried his best to keep up with the others.

"Well, someone at some point in the distant past was dumb enough to think the merchants didn’t produce anything, so they were considered worthless, making money off of the hard work... of others..."

Corco’s sentence trailed off at the end, as he spotted something within the dirt of the road. To the confusion of his companions, the crown prince bowed down and retrieved a fist sized piece of stone from the mud, something he would have considered less than mundane a mere day ago. Without worry of the views of others, he used the money-laden burlap sack to clean the stone and reveal the simple blue and white pattern on the outside.

"Anyone know what that is?" Corco asked his companions as he looked at them in expectation.

"I know," Brym said in response, "I’ve seen this one before, when I last came here with father... it’s just a simple stone though, isn’t it? It should be very common around this area."

"It’s more than just a stone."

To the curious views of those around him, Corco drew his dagger and scratched at the surface of the rock. The cut left a deep, white mark, clearly visible on its surface.

"No wonder there’s only mud left in the road. If they built their main road from these things it would just fall apart after a season or two." Corco answered his cousin’s remark with a nod. The discovery of soapstone would change his plans. He had a new goal before reaching the market and this time he even knew the way. A quick look down a familiar alley and Corco marched ahead once again, his steps much more assured than before.

"It’s soapstone. I wasn’t planning on this, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, so let’s go for a two-for-one deal. Having several ways out never hurts."

"Can we maybe, finally, find out what that grand plan of yours is?" his cousin asked in an annoyed tone as he looked around the grimy alley, darkened from the low, overhanging roofs on both sides.

"Sure. First we have to crush up the stone and for that, we’ll need tools. Oh look, we’re here." Corco moved up to a low-standing house hidden in a corner. Only few travelers would come here on accident, but Corco knew the way. He had been in these alleys, not even one day ago, and acquired the deadly poison which was meant to end his life. Now, the knowledge of these roads proved exceedingly useful. Luckily for him, the prince had always had an excellent memory and so he had found this place right away.

Compared to its surroundings, the low stone building in their front looked neat and tidy, with the stinging smoke coming from its back to prove that the inhabitants were home. The murmur of water told Corco of a profession in need of waste disposal and true enough, the symbol of quintessence carved into the wooden front door identified the owner as an alchemist. Though Alchemy itself was considered a noble profession within Borna, the irritating fumes produced by the primitive chemists relegated them to the edges of civilization, together with dye makers, leather tanners and other unhealthy occupations.

Corco banged on the door a few times and waited patiently, before a lanky middle-aged man opened up with a frown. A strange smell had not only infiltrated his waist-long beard and typically bornish shoulder-length hair, but even his sturdy leather clothing. It seemed like he had been in the middle of some experiments.

"Yes, what do you wish?" The alchemist stared at Corco with narrowed eyes, which twitched over to his warriors every now and then.

"I want to buy something." Corco tried to answer with the most harmless smile he could muster.

"The soldiers stay outside." The alchemist motioned his head towards Fadelio and Atau.

Corco agreed and soon found himself within a small room crammed with little cabinets. No doubt they contained all kinds of mixtures and materials of dubious worth, though the discolored, gray wood and dust-free surface spoke of their heavy use. Still, Corco knew of the skills of the alchemists well enough. Compared to the things he had learned yesterday night, the man’s knowledge would be of limited help. Even if he had been one of the few capable alchemists in the world who knew how to prepare rare mixtures like aqua regia, there was no way Corco could afford his services.

Once the dangerous looking warriors had been locked outside, the alchemist turned to greet Corco again, with open arms and a frank smile, as if his prior suspicion had never existed.

"Hello and welcome, good sire. This is the workshop of the great Hieronymus Bombasticus. What is it you desire, which wish shall be served? A tonic to cure baldness? Or an ointment to find love? Maybe a cure for a deadly plague? The great alchemist Hieronymus Bombasticus has learned from all the famous masters and guarantees success."

The theatrical movements and ridiculous boasts of the strange man gave Corco an idea of why an alchemist would waste his time in a free city, when there was much more money to be made at the court of a noble. More likely than not, the great alchemist had oversold his skills and been forced into hiding. Still, for Corco’s purposes, the man was perfect. He didn’t need much from him, after all.

"I want to buy a mortar and pestle."

Bombasticus still held his inviting smile on his face, but by the time he finally answered, it had turned a bit stiff.

"...excuse me, could you repeat that, good sire?"

"I want to buy a mortar and pestle from this place. Sturdy, made of stone. You have one, right?"

"Excuse me sire, but does this place here look like an artisan’s shop? Did sire maybe fail to see the quintessence carved on the door?"

"No, I saw it. That’s why I’m here. I figure that an alchemist would have a mortar and pestle ready and handy. You see, I’m in a bit of a hurry, and I can’t really wait until I get one handmade from some stone cutter."

"It may be unfortunate for you, sire, but as you could expect, I myself am very much in need of my mortar. There is little chance I would..."

While the alchemist was talking down on Corco with his nose raised up towards his soot-covered ceiling, the prince dug deep into his jingling wallet and pulled out one of his remaining three gold coins. The warm glimmer danced in front of Hieronymus’ face. It was more than enough to shut the alchemist up.

"I’ll pay you well. You really don’t wanna trade?"

Hieronymus licked his lips before he grabbed the coin, his hand like the maws of a crocodile pulling its prey into the waters. Immediately, the man went over to a cabinet in the corner and used the scale on top to measure the coin’s worth. Corco knew his currency was genuine, so he just stood aside and let the alchemist work. A few seconds of hectic activity and Hieronymus looked back up. Greedy stares shot into the wallet the first coin had appeared from. From the outside, it seemed to be quite full.

"It is unfortunate, but the coin is of shoddy quality. Sire will have to pay at least two- no, three coins of this sort if you wish to buy the exclusive, mystical mortar of the famous Hieronymus Bombasticus."

"Okay, that’s not gonna happen." One eyebrow raised and his shoulders tensed in annoyance, the prince stomped forward and opened the wallet for the alchemist to see inside.

"Look, there’s almost nothing in there. Mostly silver and bronze. That’s what, Another three or four gold altogether? If you wanna scam someone, look for a richer target. So if you won’t take my offer, I’ll go somewhere else. There’s other people with mortars in the city, you know?"

The alchemist got back up from his crouched position to face the prince in earnest.

"Good, I understand. One coin it is then."

The light in the alchemist’s eyes was gone. Of course Corco wasn’t so naive to just trust that he wouldn’t try anything later, or tip off some local gang for a cut. Luckily, the Duke of Balit had sent an excellent group of guardsmen to protect prince Corco and his men. He wouldn’t have to fear getting robbed, not until they had reached the hidden cache of the old Fastgrade.

"Here, sire. Anything else the great Hieronymus Bombasticus can be of service with?"

Bombasticus handed his customer the stone mortar and pestle, the tools Corco would need to crush the soapstone... which just left one piece of his plan left undone.

"You don’t also carry lye, do you?"

"Lye?" the alchemist replied with disgust scrunched into his face, "that unsavory substance is for tanners and dyers. No, a grand alchemist like myself only deals in the most precious and arcane of materials."

"Right. You don’t know where the tanners or dyers are in this city then? Shouldn’t they be around here somewhere, downstream along the river?"

"Oh no, the tanners and dyers are guilds not represented within Etra. You see, good sire, the King of Borna would not want the commoners making armor, so no tanneries are allowed within any of the free cities."

"And the dyers make too much money to leave to the common folk," Corco added, "Got it. In that case, I’ll just have to make some myself. Looks like our shopping list just got a little longer."

"Anything for a good customer. If sire ever needs any more mortars, sire will know where to find me."

The alchemist saw off Corco with sincere words, but his hands still clutched the gold coin like a vise and spoke a different language.

"Actually..." Already half out of the door, Corco turned around one final time. If the alchemist was this desperate for money, he might be able to help out with one more step of his plan. "Do you have a way to distill liquids here?"

Bombasticus looked confused for the fraction of a second, before his chest swelled and he returned to his bragging ways.

"Of course. The still is the heart of any proper alchemist’s workshop. The world-renowned Hieronymus Bombasticus owns the greatest still in all of Etra."

Corco’s smile turned into a grin. This visit had been more than worth it.

"So how much would I have to pay you if I wanted to use your still for a few days?"

His chest still raised towards the low ceiling of the shop, Hieronymus added a light sneer to his self-important expression.

"A true alchemist would never give away his tools like that. It would take much more than the anemic contents of that wallet to change my mind."

"Perfect."

With a wide grin, Corco took the tools he had just bought and left the building without another word. If everything went according to plan, he would soon have enough money to let the alchemist do whatever he wanted. First though, he would have to reach the cache and take care of the duke’s men.