Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset

by James Osiris Baldwin

  The recipe for the Dragon’s Blood Elixir that my mutated body required to keep running had fortunately just appeared in my Recipes after I’d imprinted Karalti. The unfortunate part was that the ingredients were expensive to buy, and the potion itself was moderately complicated to make. I didn’t mind that much - Alchemy was fun, and I’d been able to gather small amounts of the herbs I needed in Ilia. I could only hope the plants also grew in Vlachia.

  FIrst up was the [Saturated Aqua Regia] I needed for the potion base. This was a mix of three parts hydrochloric acid to one part nitric acid, which made aqua regia, and then - wincing the entire time - I added a single gold coin to it. That turned the mixture bright orange, which meant I could add the other ingredients: [Serpent Lily x 2] and [King’s Grass x 1].

  I assembled the acid and herbal ingredients into a flask, corked it, then took it over to Karalti while she preened and primped. Once I had the blood drawing tools ready, she paused, offering her wrist to give me access to the vein we used for this vampiric ritual.

  “Little pinch.” I warned her, just before I slid the curved needle in.

  Karalti barely flinched as her highly pressurized, vivid blue blood sprayed into the collection bottle. She hummed under her breath, tail flicking. When I drew it out and put pressure on the small wound, she gazed stoically out the window. When her chest swelled with a gasp, I jumped. “What?”

  “Outside! Look!” She lifted her head on her long neck and weaved her head, a motion she made when she was focusing her eyes on something in the distance.

  I capped the bottle and made sure the bleeding had stopped before I stood up and followed her gaze. And then I smiled. A great city was on the horizon, its glittering gothic spires rising into the sky. Behind it the city loomed an enormous volcano: the cone was clearly visible, wreathed with clouds, and the slopes were heavily forested.

  “Yep. That’s a city. It’s where we’re headed.” I sat back down, and swirled the potion base until the reagent had completely digested the rest of the ingredients, turning the liquid a rich golden yellow. I poured the blood into that mixture. The liquid frothed as it mingled, turning green, then brown, then colorless as the acid was neutralized and transmuted by the dragon’s blood. The result was a clear, thick potion with an eerie blue glow.

  Dragon’s Blood Elixir

  Magical Item

  +5 Adrenaline Points for 1 week.

  Sleep restores Fatigue at an accelerated rate for 1 week.

  Relieves the Blood Pact debuff for 1 week.

  Value: Cannot be sold in stores.

  Special: Must be consumed immediately after brewing; no storage possible.

  Karalti bustled over to the window. “What’s the city like? Is it like Bryos? Are there things to hunt?”

  I uncorked the potion and sniffed the contents. It smelled vaguely herbal and sharp, like bottled lightning. I was vaguely disturbed by just how much I wanted it, because my hands shook a bit as I put it to my lips and threw it back. It hit my stomach with a rush of heat and color and pure, unadulterated relief. The weekly timer reset, and the tension that had been building in my body suddenly released. I sat back on the bed with a sigh. “There’s plenty to do there, Tidbit. We’re going there to find a murderer.”

  “Do you think I can get strong enough to eat him?”

  I snorted. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 6

  The scene that greeted us at the Taltos skyport was that of armed chaos.

  We arrived in the early evening, and the area around the docks teemed with travelers - a very large number of whom were non-humans. Elf-like Lysdian, the cat-like Meewfolk, and cliques of masked, hooded Mercurions milled around in crowds, marched up gangplanks onto creaking old airships, or got into shouting matches with soldiers from behind barricades. Some people were clearly departing. Others were stuck behind temporary fences that kept them from leaving the docks. Some were crying, others simply staring. Parents comforted wailing children.

  “What the hell is going on down there?” I asked Kirov, leaning on our ship’s railing.

  The tattooed knight stroked the end of his moustache. “I am not certain, but… well. Brother Orban was found in the public gardens. The Volod… hmm.” Kirov scowled thoughtfully as he trailed off.

  “Hmm?” I lay a hand on Karalti’s wedge-shaped head.

  “My guess is that the Volod must have issued that decree he was ‘discussing’ with the Holy Forgemasters.” Kirov scratched the thick stubble coming in on his cheeks. “Brother Orban was murdered while he was serving in the Meewfolk ghetto, as I believe we mentioned. When I left, His Highness was talking about a decree to ban all non-human travelers from entry to Taltos. Not a bad idea. Those females might have a litter of six kittens, and who’s going to feed them? Clothe them? Their menfolk don’t work.”

  “Stereotypes ahoy.” I scowled, watching a lanky Meewfolk woman console a pair of young kittens while a guard shouted behind her from the other side of the fence. “Come on, man. I expected better of you.”

  Kirov’s expression darkened for a moment, but then he shrugged. “Eh. You’ll see how it is here. The Meewfolk bring nothing but filth and mummery wherever they go. At least the silverskins set up workshops and make watches and carriages.”

  “Can’t say I like what you’re saying,” I replied. “People used to say that kind of shit about my family.”

  “Ah, but you were not born to a family of alley cats.” Kirov rumbled with a deep belly laugh, then slapped me on the back. “Come, don’t trouble yourself. And - oh, look, speaking of carriages. Down there.”

  He was pointing at a fine, gold-decorated carriage waiting for us at the end of the wharf. Instead of horses, it had a spinning, glowing mana engine showcased in crystal, a smaller version of what was powering our airship. I grunted. “Fancy. Is that the King?”

  “No. His Majesty must have sent his illustrious carriage to collect us.” Kirov jerked his head toward the entry to the below-decks. “Go, get your beast. We’ll need you to help clean a path through this mob, eh?”

  From fantasy dictatorship to virtual racism: fantastic. Shaking my head, I went to collect Cutthroat.

  My hookwing was drinking from her bucket, sucking her cheeks in to draw the water up along her tongue. As soon as she sensed me, her head reared up. She sighted down at me, golden eyes narrowing with menace. The intimidating effect was somewhat offset by the fact that the tip of her tongue was still sticking out the end of her muzzle. Blep.

  “I know, I know. My fluffy little murderbutt’s all pent up.” Before I even opened the stable door, I got within range and re-equipped her [Iron Muzzle] from my Inventory.

  “SCREEEEE!” When the muzzle materialized on her face, Cutthroat swung her head and bashed it against the side of the doorframe, splintering the wood. I winced, but I’d become something of a vicious dinosaur expert these last few weeks. Before I’d hit Ride 10, I’d only been able to directly equip her muzzle and reins. Now that I was an Apprentice rider, I could equip all of her tack without going through the physical motions of putting on the blanket, then the saddle, then the cinch and saddlebags. I equipped them all. When they appeared on her body, she hissed and lunged at the door, banging her muzzle into it and sending it flying out at me. I dodged like a flamenco dancer and caught her by the reins.

  “That’s right, girl. Time to go and oppress us some cat people.” Dodging her strikes, I led her forward. Dark humor aside, the notion of oppressing the Meewfolk actually made me feel kind of sick. If the Volod was the kind of man to punish a whole species just because a guy was kidnapped from the place that species was supposed to live, I already didn’t like him. “Why are humans such dicks to everyone, Cutthroat?”

  Drooling through the bars of her muzzle, Cutthroat growled and tried to bite the back of my head.

  “Because we’re nihilistic voids of pointless rage, fear, and ignorance, huh? Sounds about right.” I led her up to the deck, absently weaving from side to side to dodge he
r snout as it darted forward over my shoulders.

  Karalti was still clinging to the ship’s railing with her hind feet and wing claws, and cocked her head as I led Cutthroat toward the gangplank. There was no way I was getting onto my mount’s back and riding her down to the wharf - she’d throw me off into the ocean and roar with triumph as I tumbled to my doom. “Okay, Tidbit. Time to play turret.”

  “Oki!” The little hatchling launched herself into the air and landed on Cutthroat’s rump. The hookwing’s growls turned into a high whistling screech, like a tea kettle. She swung her head around to hiss at Karalti as the dragon found her usual riding place just behind the saddle. Karalti flared her horn stubs and pulled her lips back over her fangs, leering back at her.

  “Cut it out, ladies.” Exasperated, I led Cutthroat across the gap between the ship and the dock. I mounted only once we were safely on land. Kirov and Matthias followed, along with a foppish man dressed in splendid black and red silks. He blanched when he saw us.

  “Ready?” The knight’s moustache bristled as he surveyed us. “This herald has informed us that we are to be taken to the morgue so that Matthias may view the remains of Brother Orban. Cremation is customary here, but the Volod’s new investigator demanded that the body not be burned.”

  “Smart guy,” I replied from my high perch. “Let’s go.”

  “Are you... well... is she coming with us?” He gestured vaguely at Karalti, who chirped curiously and tilted her head to the side.

  “What?” I chuckled. “Of course she’s coming with us.”

  “Well, no offense intended, rytier, but the morgue is a grim place, and she is a child of her species, is she not?” Kirov cleared his throat awkwardly.

  I blinked a couple of times. “She’s a dragon.”

  “Yes, but, she is a sacred…”

  “She rolls on and in dead things,” I replied. “And poop. Dog poop, cat poop, she doesn’t care. She rolls all over it.”

  Karalti harrumphed. “I do, too! Cat poop is WAY better than dog poop.”

  “Ah. Of course. I guess even a child of the gods is still a beast.” Looking a little green, Kirov joined Matthias in the carriage. “Well, Hector, please follow us through the city. We are going to the University District. The morgue is there.”

  I nodded, and Matthias gave an order to the driver. The driver lifted a crystal wand, and energy arced between his spell glove and the wand as the carriage lurched to life and rumbled off down the road, clearing people in a wave ahead of it. It moved about as fast as Cutthroat’s canter, so I followed behind.

  Taltos wasn’t that far from Ilia, but it couldn’t be more different. The earth and stone here were dark, and nearly all the Parisian-style buildings were built of the same gray-black limestone. The low, cloudy English skies had been replaced by clear and cloudless blue, like the kind in Arizona or Nevada, and the weather was warm and breezy. I’d been expecting the same cool-weather foliage here – oaks, pines, roses and grass – but the gardens here were dry and sandy, filled with desert flowers, succulents, jasmine, and agave.

  The city was a maze of narrow cobblestone streets. It was dingy at first, but brightened up as we climbed the hill toward the city center. There, the cramped medieval streets opened up into bustling tree-lined boulevards with shops and cafes serving dinner, open-air bars and restaurants, flower carts and food stands. At the heart of the city was the Main “Square” - actually a round plaza with a grand statue-topped fountain and an enormous sun mosaic that started in the center and radiated out to touch the entryways of the main commercial buildings that surrounded the public space. A church with soaring amber steeples and no fewer than three working forges out front stood on one side. Across from it was a huge Art Nouveau-style market hall.

  I’d always been a city boy, and found myself relaxing in the hustle and bustle of the people around us. Hookwings - lighter in coloring and smaller in build than their Ilian cousins - carried fashionable townsmen dressed in silk. Merchants wrangled the triceratopses that pulled their carts, while smaller, bird-like dinosaurs scurried around at knee-height. I spotted terrier-sized compsognathus with brightly colored feathers. The little dinos crooned in the laps of ladies playing cards at lattice metal tables, while less showy breeds of small insectivores ran alongside children playing soccer.

  I listened to the Archemipedia entry on the city, which had unlocked now that we’d arrived:

  Taltos

  The capital city of Vlachia, the biggest country in Eastern Artana, Taltos was originally a dragon settlement built into the dormant caldera of Mount Racosul. It was settled by humans nearly a thousand years ago.

  Taltos was formerly its own city-state in the midst of the Sathbari Empire. It was able to hold its own due to its intensely strategic position on the Racosul Plateau, its enduring construction, and the division of the city into eleven fortified Districts which restricted the movement of mounted Sathbari raiders. When the Sathbari Empire collapsed, Taltos remained, and it now serves as the political, economic, and spiritual heart of the East.

  The ruling king of Vlachia is currently [NUMBERFETCH 12-091g-2-TypeNPC-Vl-Nbl]

  The audio cut off at ‘currently’, and my heart thumped nervously on seeing the error code at the bottom of what looked to me like an unfinished entry. Archemi, despite its depth of world-building, had been a rush-job. Now and then, I was reminded of just how tenuous this new world of mine really was.

  The districts the article mentioned were very clearly delineated by walls, checkpoints and portcullis gates that could come crashing down to seal occupants inside. Our destination, the University District, took up about ten blocks of hilly, narrow, paved streets near the center of the city, and it was crawling with security. It was easy to see why. A good number of clerics lived and worked here in the District’s churches, classrooms, and the seminary. The students and clergy who dared to come outside watched us anxiously as we passed.

  The morgue was attached to a small blocky building that looked newer than the rest of the stately, castlelike campus of Loroda University. Eight guards with torches stood around the entry. Six of them were normal city guards dressed in iron chainmail, like ancient Turkish warriors. The other two wore the same fancy black and red lamellar armor as Kirov. They also had lines of runic tattoos down their cheeks, distinguishing them as members of his chivalric order: The Knights of the Red Star.

  “Ur Kirov!” The man who stepped forward might have been Kirov’s brother. Same haircut, same mustache, but where Kirov was big and bull-like, this man was thin and gangly, the kind of man you expected to find in a Thieves’ Guildhall. He had stringy hair, slightly bulging eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a long, thin-bridged nose. The pair of men clasped arms and then embraced like brothers. “Welcome home, brother. And you, honored sage.”

  “Thank you, Ur Pavel,” Matthias replied heavily. “I wish it was for a better reason than this.”

  “If you’re here, does that mean His Majesty is visiting this place of death?” Kirov asked, aghast.

  “He is. And he’s far too excited about it, in my opinion.” Pavel made a sound of disgust at the back of his throat. “The Volod should not be mucking around in blood and guts, but he was determined to accompany that Dakhari he hired to help us. Pah. Who is your guest? And... by the gods, is that-?!”

  “Yes, that’s a dragon. Her name is Karalti, and she’s not a goddess, no matter what she tries to tell you.” I rested a hand on Karalti’s head and smiled wryly. The dragon trilled, and Pavel’s eyes bulged harder. “I’m Hector. Dragozin Hector.”

  “Khors heard our prayers, and has sent us a Starborn and a true dragon to help us,” Matthias added piously.

  The presence of a dragon seemed to lift five years of fatigue from Pavel’s face. “Well, you can’t do worse than the Dakhari. Three men murdered still there’s no clue as to how or why.”

  “There is only so much one person can do.” Kirov waved his concern away, then clapped his hands together. “Come, Hector.
We shall get you masks with sweet herbs, and then we shall go and view this horror.”

  We all got cloth masks, except for Karalti, and trooped our way down into the bowels of the place, descending into a series of cold cellars. Talismans and prayers written on ribbons hung inside the doors to ward away the spirits of the dead, who lay out on slabs under sheets. The staff here wore long plague-doctor style masks and heavy leather robes with thick stitching.

  “Smells weird,” Karalti remarked, pausing to sniff at some condensation on the floor. “I wanna roll in it.”

  “Come on. We’re about to meet royalty,” I chided. “We can’t have you smelling like roadkill.”

  The room where the Volod had taken up residence was fairly obvious: it was the one with the two huge knights guarding it. They were clad in forbidding black platemail and helmets decorated with backswept dragon wings. My HUD identified them as [Royal Guards: Order of the Dragon]. They stood with their sword points resting on the ground, hands wrapped around the hilts, only moving as we approached. There was an argument going on beyond the doorway - a man’s voice with a sharp, biting sarcastic note, and a woman’s terse replies.

  “Ur Kirov and His Grace, Father Petko Matthias have bought His Majesty a most esteemed pair of guests,” Pavel flourished with his hands back toward us. “The Solonkratsu Queen, Karalti, and her protector, Dragozin Hector. I vouch for them.”

  “I vouch for them,” Matthias echoed, stepping forward.

  “As you say, Your Grace. Adventurer, you must leave your weapons with us.” The Royal Guard held out his gauntleted hand in expectation.

  I didn’t argue – I just handed them over. My spear, dagger, a ratty crossbow, and a shortsword I’d picked up as an emergency weapon all vanished into the Royal Guard’s Inventory. He seemed to sense when I had no more weapons, because he nodded and waved us through.

  “Let me lead the way,” Matthias said to us softly. “His Majesty has a cutting intellect, but he has reservations about strangers.”