by N H Paxton
I carefully combined the powders into a single, deep calcinator. The next step could have catastrophic results if I cracked the materials wrong. Creating Nitre had a final, volatile step: heating the materials to combine them into a single conglomerate ash, without causing them to explode.
I sealed the lid on the calcinator, ensuring it was tightly in place, and then I held the entire apparatus in the palm of my hand. I triggered Purifying Fire, which I found useful for just such a thing, and watched the calcinator develop a glow over a short period of time. There was a single vent pin in the top of the calcinator that popped up, and smoke, thick and black, began to pour out. I stopped Purifying Fire and let the smoke recede before opening the bowl.
I stared in and found a continuous single-colored ash within. I had succeeded. I had made alchemic Nitre, the same as the ancient alchemists of Earth. Okay, maybe not exactly the same, but they also probably didn’t have the ability to smelt ore or boil water with their hands either. A wide grin crept across my face as I sloughed out the powder into the base of one of the spheres. The next steps, though more complicated, were considerably less dangerous.
I needed powdered Flarebrush Root in order to duplicate the combustion from the Firebrand’s Fireball spell, and I had a considerable amount on hand. I ground that down quickly in my mortar and poured it out onto an awaiting sheet of paper. Next, I needed FoxFen Essence. It was the catalyst to allowing the elemental enchantment to take hold.
That was in relatively short supply, but I had some lying about that had been collected for me by Eberand. It was a purple gelatinous mass that flowed freely inside a glass jar, almost as though it had a mind of its own. I clenched my fist and said a quick enchantment that I had learned when I was granted my Alchemist subclass.
“Val’orum Deum Enclaste,” I said, my Russian accent making the language sound corrupt and broken. Hearing high Latin from my own lips was weird, since I had never known or spoken it on Earth. It felt familiar, and the words all fit, but it was like the memories were implanted.
They weren’t my own. It didn’t matter, though, because the enchantment took hold, imparting a near-invisible glow to my hands. It was a warding enchantment that allowed an Alchemist to handle dangerous elemental items, especially those in flux between spaces, without suffering any physical harm.
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Buff Added
Alchemist’s Prayer: As an Alchemist, one tends to come across many things that may, or may not, cause direct harm to the body. It never hurts to be cautious.
Improves resistance to poison, acidic, necrotic, and burning damage by 15%; duration, 3 minutes.
Increases resistance to being poisoned by 50%; duration, 3 minutes.
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I unscrewed the cap of the jar carefully, making sure not to startle the fragile essence inside, and reached my thumb and forefinger within, pulling a small fragment of the essence out of the container.
I quickly sealed the jar again and delicately rolled the essence between my fingers, making it into a sphere. I had mere seconds before it would essentially wink out of existence, so I placed it within the ash and made a series of quick, elegant gestures. The FoxFen Essence appeared to melt into a liquid and fuse with the ash. The next step needed to be perfect, or I could suffer an explosion.
I brought my hands up, parallel to one another, then rolled my middle fingers over my index fingers, rotated my hands to be facing one another, shifted my wrists to a ninety-degree angle so my fingers were pointing at one another, and folded my ring fingers into my palms. The powder began to glow as I felt my fingers warm. The incantation wasn’t finished. I had two more steps, and I needed to do them as quickly as possible, or the entire thing would fail.
I crooked my thumbs, folded my pinkies into my palms, and then touched the tips of my rolled middle fingers together. The final step was to bring my palms together, which closed the alchemical enchantment. I succeeded, and I was rewarded with the sound of the sphere closing itself, then locking in place.
The seam where the sphere was crafted burned bright red, then disappeared entirely as the alchemical magic burned itself to completion. I had done it. I had created an alchemic explosive, entirely magical. I picked up the orb and felt the weight of it. It was light, like a small glass Christmas ornament. Through the glass, I could see flashes and flickers of flame dancing around. A smirk worked its way across my face. I could create magic.
Adherent Learning
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You have created a world-first item!
[ALCHEMICAL GRENADES – Various Elemental Effects]
Reward: 2,500 EXP!
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Previously, when I created Gamma, I had received a considerably greater quantity of XP for the World-First accomplishment. It seemed as though they suffered from diminishing returns. It must have been a way to prevent people from forcing their way through their levels by simply crafting new items.
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X1 Level Up!
You have (5) undistributed stat points.
You have (1) unassigned proficiency point.
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I loved the game aspects of this world even though I didn’t care at all for games on Earth. I was still new to the entire idea of a role-playing game, but it had its uses. For instance, I could directly improve my strength when I leveled up. This came in handy for lifting large objects or punching rocks with my fists for no reason at all. But I found my attribute points were more effective in other places, like Intelligence and Spirit.
I dumped my newly acquired points evenly into Intelligence, Dexterity, and Spirit. I could feel my mind racing as I thought of new, interesting things to create. I checked my character sheet to see the improvements.
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I HAD USED THE LAST of my proficiency points yesterday, but here I stood with yet another one. I smiled as I put it into Reconstruction. Things would now proceed at a greater pace. Eventually, I would need to find a way to continue to level at an accelerated rate. The gap between my levels was growing faster than my ability to produce items. The diminishing returns impact was a curse.
I shook my head, marveling at how I had gotten involved in all of this. The game world as a whole was constantly evolving and changing. On Earth, I was a simple weapons engineer. Here, on Eldgard, I was a pivoting point for an entire collection of people. I had to be careful not to let my ego get the better of me.
My progress with the grenades continued undeterred as I used the alchemical techniques I had developed to create a few different kinds: White Out from the Frostlock class; Mud Slide from the Stonewall class; Choking Smoke, which I created as a modification of Jack’s Plague Burst ability; the list went on. Each one netted me a handful of XP, but I was so far from the next level, it was almost a drop in the bucket.
After mewling about the leveling gains, I finally came to a simple design which I had been considering since the incident with the Spider’s Silk: web grenades.
The first step was simple, making the Nitre, like I had previously. The second step was to fish out the FoxFen Essence again. These things were now second nature. I side-eyed my jar of essence. It was running a bit low. I would need to harvest more at some point. I rolled the essence and placed it into the Nitre. I gestured quickly, as I had done a dozen times before, and then placed the Spider’s Silk into the dust. It was liquified in a strong acid, because grinding Spider’s Silk was impossible.
I began the incantation to activate the spell, shifting my fingers and hands appropriately.
“Lord Vlad,” an unexpected voice from behind said, startling me.
I shifted my hands in the wrong direction, and the entire essence glowed a deep green. Is not good, I thought to myself. I centered my thoughts and carried on, but the voice interrupted again.
“Excuse me, Lord Vlad?” The grating, gruff voice of Garret came from behind me, and I completely lost my concentration.
“No, is going to ex—”
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The Spider’s Silk exploded, lifting me from the floor of the workshop and adhering me firmly to the ceiling. I had enhanced the Spider’s Silk alchemically to expand ten thousand times. I now felt as though that was a mistake.
I blinked several times, trying to clear away the daze from the blast. I saw Garret crouched behind a luminescent barrier of some kind, the face of which was spattered with huge quantities of silk. Thankfully, I’d had the forethought to make the explosion radius relatively small, otherwise the entire workshop would have been coated in sticky threads of terror.
As it was, work had pretty much ceased, and the entire workshop was silent. Several apprentices and other members of the crafts had stopped their work to stare at me hanging from the ceiling of my workshop. A few people were dangerously close to ruining their own experiments from the distraction.
One group of junior Alchemists missed a vial, pouring acid onto their workbench, where it immediately began smoking and sizzling. There was a small explosion at the other end of the shop, and confetti showered down on everything, creating a glittery mess. Why were people making confetti bombs? Weren’t there more important things to make?
“Go about your business, nothing to see here!” Garret shouted as he released the barrier with a flourish of his hand. “And bring me a ladder.” I would have said something, but my mouth was covered in strands of silk.
Seconds later, the sounds of the workshop were back in full swing. An apprentice brought Garret a tall ladder, which he quickly set up. I had thought to burn the Spider’s Silk with Purifying Fire, but I considered the combustibility of the materials—incinerating myself while adhered to the ceiling of my own workshop would not be an enjoyable situation. Not to mention what the apprentices and other workshop members would think.
“Sorry, man.” Garret had produced a small knife as he reached the top of the ladder and was cautiously cutting the strands of Spider’s Silk around me. He removed the silk around my legs first. The ladder had been placed underneath my center of mass, which was a smart move. I got my feet on the top step and breathed a sigh of relief. Garret continued to carefully remove the strands, working up my body cautiously.
Next came my hands and arms, then my head. Whether he chose to leave the bindings on my mouth on purpose or not was up for debate, but I managed to pull those away once I was safely back on the ground.
“Vadach, will need more care in future.” I shook my head as I went to work clearing off my desk and workbench, which were also coated in webbing.
The stuff was on every surface, like the expanding foam a student learns to make in entry-level chemistry classes at university.
“Right, sorry about that. Ah, I had news, but I don’t remember what I came to say. It was pretty important.” Garret stood, his legs crossed in a weird, half-leaning pose. He stared at the ceiling.
“Could be getting to point? Or perhaps could help clean workstation?” I narrowed my eyes at him as he continued to stand there, gently humming to himself.
“Oh, yeah, hey. I know you wanted to make this place work out, right? Like a guild? I got some info on that.” He busied himself in his inventory while I continued to clean the workstation, unaided. The nerve of some people.
“Yes, guild. Is like faction, but smaller, da?” I was irritated, and my Russian tended to slip into conversation more when I was beginning to lose my patience.
Garret gave me a half smile as he busied himself scraping my workstation with a small blade.
“Yeah, it’s a small gathering of people. The whole thing levels like a faction, through XP shared by all of the members. But making one is complicated. I found a book about it in the library, but the librarian said I couldn’t take it with me. Something about there being too many books on loan already.” Garret stopped speaking and stared at the enormous pile of books around my workstation, now covered in Spider’s Silk.
His face changed. Gone was his general look of brooding. It was replaced with frustration.
“Ah, yes, have many books. Borrowed them from librarian. Was very pleasant lady.” I gave Garret my award-winning smile, which would win me no awards ever.
“Yes, I see.” He shook his head and sighed heavily.
“Is not problem, had scribe make copies. Can take back to library today.” I nodded fervently as I cleaned the last bit of Spider’s Silk from the basin next to my station. The glassware therein had taken no damage, thankfully.
“Good, we’re heading there now. Grab your stuff, Lord Vlad.” Garret rolled his eyes as he stalked away, his heavy armor clanking with every footfall.
I snatched my robe from the workstation, grabbed all the books I could possibly carry, and followed after him.
We arrived at the Keep’s library only a few minutes later. As we entered, the librarian gave me a stern look. I set the hippopotamic pile of books on her desk with a thunk.
“Vlad Nardoir.” The librarian’s soft voice carried with it a scolding tone.
“Yes, sorry. Has only been two days.” I hid my face behind the pile of books.
In general, I didn’t care who I pissed off. The librarian, though, was another story. She held the key to all the knowledge of the Keep. I was quite opposed to upsetting her.
“I asked you, politely, to only check out five books. Five, Vlad. And here, on my desk, are thirty. And what is this all over them!?” She took one of the books and had to pry her fingers off the cover with considerable force.
“Ah, see, was accident in workshop.” I fumbled for words that wouldn’t get me expelled from the library forever.
“Spider’s Silk,” Garret interjected. He sighed again, and this time his sigh was darkened with frustration.
“Great. Spider’s Silk. On my books.” The librarian, whose name I suddenly recalled was Janet—I think—flicked her hands as though shooing something hideous away from her.
“Will dissolve in few hours... or days. Incantation did not go to plan.” Another smile, which was returned with the visible clenching of Janet’s teeth.
“Well, they are returned. Mister Garret, the book you requested to check out.” Janet handed Garret a large, ancient tome. It looked immensely heavy, bound with sinew and covered with cracked and splitting leather.
“Hey, thanks!” His voice was chipper, which gave me cause for concern. He was always so very broody.
“You’re quite welcome. Do return it within a week.” As she finished her sentence, Janet turned about and began stacking the books I had returned onto a cart.
I assumed she was going to reshelve them once the Spider’s Silk had dissipated.
“Alright, cool. Here we go. Now, this entire book is about guilds and their founding. The kind of materials needed to make a standard that will signify the guild itself, the type of guilds that can be made, among other things.” Garret set the book down on a nearby table and pulled out a chair to sit.
He motioned toward the table for me to sit as well. The chairs were simple wood, designed to be briefly comfortable but not inviting a long-term stay. The same kind of chairs one would see in a modern Earth library.
“Okay, need to know about crafting guilds.” As if by magic, the book opened and the pages began to flip.
“Whoa, dude, it didn’t do that last time.” Garret’s eyes were wide as he watched. Surprisingly, he pulled a pair of glasses from a pocket that was hidden in the neck of his armor. He snapped them in the air, their limbs popping out, and slid them onto his face.
“Have glasses? In Eldgard?” I raised an eyebrow at Garret, who turned to me with his usual brooding face.
“Yeah, man. I had readers back on Earth. It’s the comforts of home, you know?” He turned back to the book, perusing the pages it opened to.
“Comforts...” I trailed off as I thought immediately of the home I left behind, the life I had led, everything I had lost for this new world. Was it worth it?
“Oh, so it says here that the specif—” Garret stopped mid-word. “Are you alright?”
“Vlad is... not sure.” I could feel the heat in my face, the flushing sensation that always preceded tears. I struggled for a moment, longing to hold Ina’s hand one more time. My soul cried out to see her face, to hear her voice.
“It’s cool, we all have times like this.” Garret’s voice was low, gentle, reassuring. He was so far removed from the battle-hungry behemoth that I knew in the trenches, it was almost a shock.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, furtively, then a bit firmer. He sniffed, the sound unexpected in the quiet of the library. I looked over and saw a tear in his eye as well. Great, we were a couple of baby criers. Was that the American adage?
“Is okay, am back now.” I clenched my fists, the knuckles in my hands audibly cracking from the exertion. Garret took his hand back and gave me a cool smile, followed by a quick nod.
“Alright, let’s figure this out.” Garret stabbed a finger at the page that was open. “So, it looks like specific types of guilds require specific types of components to craft their banners.” He flipped a page, landing upon one that had a complete list of guilds and the name of the type of banner required to charter it.
“List is unexpectedly long.” I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. There were easily two hundred types of guilds, but they all seemed unusually vague.
“Right, what are we after? Smithing? Engineering? Manufacturing?” Garret ran his finger down the list, which was several pages long, as he continued. He hrmmed as he went.
“Crafting, generic, all encompassing.” My answer was simple and to the point. I wanted a guild that would provide a home for crafters; it didn’t matter what kind.
“I don’t see an option for just that.” Garret lifted his finger off the page, and the book shifted, pages flipping of their own accord until it stopped in a section titled Custom Guild Banners.