Isr Kale's Journal (The Alchemist Book #4): LitRPG Series

by Vasily Mahanenko

  Once again, Tailyn felt like a child wandering into an adult meeting. He pulled up his parameters and checked to see if the upgraded attribute combined with enhancement before replying.

  “Yes, I can—two immunities for everyone. There’s fire, electricity, and cold on the list, and darkness and water were added, too.”

  “I apologize, but is immunity actually immunity?” Mu-Ro-Din continued. “You don’t mean a reduction, do you? Blocking a certain amount of damage? And does it completely keep you from the effect electricity has?”

  “It’s immunity,” Tailyn said. “Complete immunity. That’s how I killed the experiment, and you can ask Ka-Do-Gir about the effect. It gets rid of it completely.”

  “Where do I sign up?” The lix rubbed his paws together. “And why aren’t I first in line?”

  “The upgrade isn’t free. You’ll have to refuse three months of your salary the same way we did,” Forian said, an eye out even there for some profit. The red lix’s face twisted when the impassive look on the treasurer’s face told him the latter wasn’t joking.

  “What kind of humans are you?! You’ll suck me dry,” Mu-Ro-Din exclaimed. “Fine, I’ll do it, you cheapskates. Take your salary—I didn’t want it, anyway.”

  “Bar-Truk, that goes for you, too.” Forian was doing his best to lighten the payroll. With no more objections, the meeting wrapped up, and Tailyn got to work. His Frankenstein didn’t have any limitations, so they decided to improve everyone in the city. And that number was already up to two hundred and twenty-one.

  The Treasurer spent 30260 boosting skills.

  The Treasurer spent 29500 buying materials.

  Tailyn stopped in the middle of improving yet another lix to watch sadly as the remains of Mean Truk’s budget disappeared. They only had ten thousand coins left. Even despite the fact that none of the city managers were being paid, 2,900 coins were going to be deducted in a couple days to feed and maintain the city. That would be repeated a week later and every seven days thereafter. It was difficult to say what Forian was thinking when he left the city without a financial cushion, and Tailyn had a hard time not sending the rest of his own coins to the city treasury. But he eventually decided to leave that move for the worst case scenario. Plus, there was the percentage he got from Trukian potions—the system was going to be sending him the next payment shortly.

  The trip to the empire was postponed until the next morning. No matter how hard Tailyn pushed himself, he still had to take a break after every fifty improvements, and the sun was already dipping beneath the horizon by the time he finished. Nobody wanted to leave at night.

  You received immunity to fire.

  Tailyn decided to make sure the most common type of damage couldn’t hurt him. Constantly drinking salamander potions wasn’t an option since they only lasted a minute and weren’t always available. They were pricey, too. Six levels later, the combined forces of Frankenstein and enhancement were going to reach level one hundred, and the boy hoped something interesting would unlock at that point.

  The group set out early the next morning. Forian gave orders for everyone to disguise their armor as mage robes, his white, having finished training, and Tailyn and Valanil’s yellow to show that they were still studying. For quite a while, Valanil pushed back on that point, trying to convince her man to let her wear white, too. The problem was that her appearance as a seventeen-year-old girl meant that just wasn’t an option. To keep things even more secretive, Tailyn took the name of one of his classmates—Lutar Shars, a level four boy twelve years of age. The other kid was small and nondescript, making him the perfect spy. Nobody could ever pick him out from a crowd of his peers.

  The trip to Culmart should have taken them two weeks, but they made it in one and a half. Over that time, Tailyn twice got messages about Trukian potion sales, though each made him feel successively worse. It turned out that his potion wasn’t popular in the least. The second week saw sales of eighty-three flasks; the third saw sales of only thirteen. Valanil suspected even those sales were just researchers buying one flask each, studying the contents, and adding it to their registry of dangerous substances. With better and cheaper options out there, shelling out two thousand coins just wasn’t a wise investment. The grand total turned out to be 38,400 for almost two weeks. Not only that, but Forian didn’t let the boy get any work in for his dragon. The group was in a hurry—Halas had pulled his army over to another empire, so the Gray Lands were just starting to recover. The night beasts were so daring, in fact, that they began howling to announce their presence, and one day Tailyn even saw two mangy wolves on the horizon. As soon as they spotted the humans on their yaks, the animals dashed off as if terrifying monsters were right on their heels. The lixes were still fresh in their minds.

  Ten days later, the squad arrived at Culmart.

  “Halt!” The gates were being guarded by Baron Equire’s troops, which played right into the group’s hands. There was less of a chance they would be recognized. “Where are you coming from, where are you going, and why?”

  “A mage and his students returning to the academy after an important mission,” Forian said, his tone telling the guard how little he thought of him. “Where we’re coming from and why is our business. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with the provost.”

  Forian nudged his yak toward the gate only to find the guard in no hurry to get out of the way.

  “One more step, and we’ll stick you full of crossbow bolts. Master Mages, you seem to have spent quite a while out in the Gray Lands—the law is different now. Everyone entering the empire has to go through an inspection, whether they’re an ordinary traveler, a caravan, or even academy mages. No exceptions!”

  “Show us the papers if you don’t mind,” Forian replied. It was his last shot at holding his ground, but it didn’t work, either. With exactly those cases in mind, all border cities had a list of orders handed down over the previous two years. Mages, traders, and adventure-seekers alike often headed into the Gray Lands for years at a time, coming back to find themselves in violation of a law that had just been passed. After reading the order for martial law, Forian could only sigh—Tailyn had apparently been such a nuisance that the emperor and provost had joined forces.

  “Let them check, Master. We don’t have anything to hide,” Tailyn said. Forian scowled—an actual student wouldn’t have had the right to open their mouth without permission from their mentor. And while Valanil gave the boy a jab in the ribs, it wasn’t before the guard heard everything. He didn’t notice that the boy was speaking out of turn, at least. The military had its own rules and regulations.

  “Stand quietly and don’t move. This will be quick.”

  The guard, who had level three perception, used a true knowledge card for the check. The epic level one card could see who anyone really was, at least, that was why it had been given to everyone standing watch over the border cities. Standing up to it would have meant having concealment of at least sixty-five, and the emperor’s advisors had decided only Crobar hierarchs had parameters like that. A twelve-year-old recently banished from the empire definitely couldn’t have approached that number.

  But they were mistaken. Tailyn’s total value for concealment was all the way up at ninety-four, his enhancement saving the day yet again.

  “They’re clear—exactly who they say they are. Open the gate!” The guard stepped to the side. “Welcome to Culmart, Master Mages, and the best of luck to you.”

  Chapter 14

  “WELL, IF IT ISN’T Forian Tarn himself! Just like the viceroy predicted. Get him! Just give us a reason, Mage, and you’ll regret you were ever born.”

  The guards clad in level five armor held their spears millimeters from the personal shields of the players who had just stepped out of the teleport. The snow-white robes of other mages gleamed behind them—the emperor’s and the provost’s people both had turned out to greet the uninvited guests. And not only had the latter just shown up, in fact, they
were using some kind of card to turn Forian and Valanil into statues. The spell didn’t work on Tailyn’s armor, though the boy decided to play it safe and pretend he was blocked, too. The operation was being run by the herbalist. Until she gave the order to attack, Tailyn was going to keep his cards close to the chest.

  “Commander, what should we do with the students?” one of the guards asked. Tailyn sighed in relief—his Lutar Shars disguise was still in place, none of the warriors or mages present able to see who he really was.

  “We don’t need the boy, so he can get out of here, but the girl owes us a long conversation. Imposters are special favorites of ours.”

  Their leader, decked out resplendently, stepped away from the wall, and Tailyn shivered. He’d seen him before. Back at the Carlian clan gathering where Valia turned her back on her family, Eralas Fren, a level thirty-two fighter, had been presented as heading up one of the capital’s trade guilds. Valia had told Tailyn to stay well away from him.

  Deciding to play the role of scared boy, Tailyn waited until he saw the message that the magic block had disappeared before dropping to the ground and crawling away toward the wall. That was presumably what everyone had been expecting to see since they stopped paying any attention to him. He was worthless.

  “There’s nothing in the agreement about students,” one of the mages said. “Only Forian. We won’t let you touch Valanil—she’ll head back to her studies and select a new mentor.”

  “That scum insulted my family!” Eralas exploded. “We don’t forgive that, so the provost can take up with the viceroy any problems he has.”

  “The viceroy will only be getting back to the capital in a week.” The mage wasn’t about to give in. “You won’t be taking any of our students in the meanwhile!”

  “She isn’t your student anymore,” the Carlian said, his patience waning quickly. “She’s nobody! I’ll say this again: nobody has the right to take our family name. The god gave us that right, and this animal deserves everything she gets.”

  “It’s not happening!” The mage was losing it, as well. “She belongs to the academy, and only the provost and her dean have the right to punish her.”

  “I knew we’d have a problem with you... Kill the traitors!” Eralas barked, and the guards’ spears went into action. However strong the mages there were, there was nothing they could to against level ten named weapons. The viceroy had sent his best to catch the runaways, and that was an eventuality he’d kept in mind, too.

  “You!” Eralas’s gaze settled on Tailyn, and the latter braced for a fight. Vargot and Valkyrie at level eleven could shred the bastards in a matter of seconds. But Eralas didn’t give the order to kill the witness, instead scowling because he was forced to talk to him again. “Get back over to your provost and tell him that the Carlian clan has every right to do what they did, and we’ll do it again if we have to. Nobody has the right to meddle in family affairs. Get out of here!”

  “Tailyn, just go ahead and leave,” Valanil said suddenly. The internal communication system worked perfectly even with the outfits blocked.

  “You decided you want to get even younger?” Forian asked with a laugh as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. It was like their perfect plan for getting into the city hadn’t been a complete disaster, putting them out of reach of even Sadil’s help.

  “The viceroy isn’t in the city, so his mansion is going to be practically unguarded. No nameless, no guards trying to make a name for themselves. Tailyn can just waltz right in and find Ronan, and that’s more important than you or me.”

  “Agreed—we need to focus on doing what we came to do,” Forian replied after a pause before addressing Tailyn. “Don’t leave the group. Tailyn, you have an intercom, so I want you to call the number I’m going to give you if we’re dead or still captive twenty-four hours from now. Just say, ‘the north never forgets their own,’ and someone will help you.”

  The treasurer dictated a number that recorded itself immediately to the boy’s log.

  “Who is that?” Tailyn asked. He’d already gotten to the temple door and had stopped to watch as the guards bound Forian and Valanil.

  “That doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that someone will help you. Okay, get out of here—we can’t have you attracting attention.”

  It was a valid point. Eralas was already frowning, having noticed that the boy didn’t seem to be in a hurry to head back to the provost. Deciding not to test his luck, Tailyn slipped out the door to get as far away from the Carlians as he could. The anthill-like city swallowed the boy up, hiding him from view no matter how observant any spies might have been. It was only half an hour later, once Tailyn was sure nobody was paying him any attention, that he settled down on one of the many benches and pulled out a textbook. With the academy not far away, there were plenty of pupils in yellow mantles enjoying city passes won for academic excellence. They knew the theory backwards and forwards, of course. That was what got them to their next useless pass. But the good part for Tailyn was that he looked just like another one of them, only he wasn’t actually reading. He was too busy chatting with his betrothed.

  Valia, we have a problem. Here’s what happened...

  Valia’s black-and-white response unnerved him. She demanded that Tailyn throw everything to the wind, free the “adults,” and come back to Mean Truk with them, and it took Tailyn a good half-hour to get through to her that Valanil had been the one to tell him to go through with the plan. Meanwhile, he was already regretting his decision to complain to her. Valia had four of the six concentrated noas, so if anything went south, she would be able to resurrect them all. In Forian and Valanil’s case, losing their levels and attributes wasn’t even a big deal. They’d only gotten to level twelve.

  The viceroy’s residence was nearby the central square in the most well-defended part of the capital. Yellow mantles were nowhere to be seen, so Tailyn switched his disguise to a simple hunter eyeing the wonder of the emperor’s palace. Standing at the gate, the guards looked right past the boy—there were always plenty of gaping mouths in the vicinity.

  Sitting down not far from the door to the viceroy’s home, Tailyn pulled out some loaves he’d bought earlier and began munching away at them. Valanil had spent the week-and-a-half journey to Culmart coming up with a great way for him to get inside. It was risky, of course, but it was promising. Everything depended on whether Ronan was actually in the residence or if the viceroy had hidden him somewhere else. And Tailyn was going to have to get his hands dirty if he wanted to find out the answer to that question.

  In exactly the way he hated.

  He ended up waiting quite a while. Servants were constantly coming in and out of the residence, but Tailyn ignored them. Ironically enough, the worse each person’s protection was, the less interest the boy had in them. What he needed was someone wearing a complete outfit with armor and a helmet. None of the servants fit the bill, and Tailyn was beginning to worry—the city was settling down, people were getting ready to go to sleep, the streets were emptying, and the emperor’s guards were going to start paying attention to a lone hunter soon enough. But just when he was about to get up and leave, he got incredibly lucky. A boy accompanied by two rough characters stepped outside.

  Forg Dig (human). Trader. Level 5. Age 16.

  The name meant nothing to Tailyn, though a quick scan told him the boy was wearing a set of level three armor. Of course, he could have assumed Forg had been visiting Ronan and headed right in, only Valanil had been crystal clear about not going on instinct. His job was to stick to what he knew for sure.

  Nobody paid any attention as the young hunter got up from the bench and headed off after the trio. Only a few families had the right to use carts in the heart of the empire, and the Difs, who headed up a trade guild, weren’t one of them. Forg had to use his own two legs to get him out of the city center. Back when the viceroy was head of the empire’s chamber of commerce, and he and Ronan had been children, they’d met
, staying in touch after their parents’ paths had diverged. They continued their relationship after Ronan had been sent to study at the academy. Even without his father’s urging, the boy could tell the connection was one he needed to hang on to, so he fawned, praised, practically kissed Ronan, knowing full well what that meant for the future. The viceroy’s son wasn’t someone to ignore.

  Tailyn picked up his pace, afraid of losing sight of his quarry, and caught up to the trio almost at the edge of the square. The guards were bored out of their minds—while still technically on the job, they were really only there to make the head of the home feel better. Petty criminals didn’t frequent that part of the city; major criminals didn’t find the Dif family serious enough prey. With far richer families boasting far better connections, the goons had nothing better to do than discuss the virtues of the servant girls. The world around them held no interest.

  And that was their undoing.

  Forg’s home was part of a block occupied by well-to-do families just half a kilometer from the square. A pleasant, three-story building, it was decorated in line with the latest fashion. The elderly butler opened the gate and bowed his head in greeting. In reply, Forg placed a hand on the gentleman’s shoulder and gave him a few words of gratitude. While he actually felt nothing of the sort, the habits that had been beaten into him at the end of a stick kept him respectful to everyone around him, his father having insisted that the servants would work better if they were treated humanely. They needed to be recognized. Referred to by name. A couple kind words never hurt anyone, but they would keep the servants from revolting or demanding an increase in pay.