Theo groaned, the light filtering through his window, stinging his eyes. He regretted taking the [Lesser Stamina Potion] yesterday. It always felt more like a hangover than it was worth, but the allure of producing more potions was too tempting. Lately, he felt more like a potion production machine than a living thing. There were many things he didn’t understand about his place in the world of alchemy, but that was a big one. Fenian fell over himself to get at the alchemist’s potions, signaling something deeply wrong with the world of standard alchemy. He didn’t even know what skills regular alchemists had access to, furthering the mystery.
Theo sat in bed for some time, ruminating on the strange situation he found himself in. When he stopped to take a breath, it all seemed too ridiculous to be true. The image of the Harbinger flashed through his mind, joined by the words of Zan’kir. A convergence had taken place in Broken Tusk. What that meant was beyond him, but his sharp intuition told him it was a wholly good thing. Just like the strange entity stood at the end of the world, the alchemist stood at the start of something else. Something made of goodwill and friendship. A community that he would never allow to shatter, no matter how hard the pressure was from the outside.
The smell of sizzling wolf meat and tea brought him back to the present, no matter how much he wanted to linger in his thoughts. A voice in the back of his mind begged for information about the other alchemists, but he reserved himself to join Tresk for breakfast. She had already poured herself a cup of tea and was barely chewing a wolf steak, swallowing large chunks whole.
“Morning, sleepy-head,” Tresk said, sing-song.
“Morning,” Theo said, grabbing his general alchemy book and plopping down in his seat. Tresk served him breakfast, which he accepted with a smile.
“Something on your mind?” Tresk asked.
Theo allowed his thoughts to gather for a moment, waiting for them to join before he spoke. “I’ve memorized this book, mostly,” he started, tapping the tome on the table. “Even the sections that aren’t useful. The gap in power between distillation and standard alchemy is astounding.”
“How do you figure?” Tresk said, belching. She chugged her tea.
Theo sipped his moss tea, letting that rush run through his body. “Standard alchemy uses poultices—salves and such—but the further you get from that starting point, the more likely you are to do distillation.”
“I’ve used salves before,” Tresk said with a shrug. “I don’t care for them. They sting when they work. Your potions don’t sting.”
“Well, that’s my point,” Theo said. “What if a level 1 alchemist tried to distill using my equipment?”
Tresk thought for a moment, cupping her chin in her hand. She always screwed up her face when she was deep in concentration. “It would explode, I think.”
“Right,” Theo said, nodding. He felt as though he was on the verge of something, but couldn’t put his finger on it. This was a train of thought related to a problem he’d faced for some time. “There are hidden ranks, I think. A layer of the system we can’t see, but it’s there. Perhaps we can see it, if you break the leveling system into groups.”
“What do you mean?” Tresk said. She eyed Theo’s steak, forcing him to cut into it and take a bite.
“I technically crafted some processed leather with my potions,” Theo said. “How does that differ from what Perg does?”
“Same thing that would happen if you tried to work my dad’s forge,” Tresk said. “You can technically craft a knife, but the quality of the object is significantly lower. Good old Throk has access to skills with his [Blacksmithing Core], which raise the quality. It also makes other tasks easier, like hammering the metal. You could smack on the anvil for hours, reheating the metal over and over, but he has skills.”
Theo thought for a moment, letting things he already knew solidify. Anyone could technically perform a low-level craft, but the quality would be different. That made sense, but it wasn’t the complete story. The process was the most important part. He considered his current process, operating three stills to distill absurd amounts of potions. Without his legendary cores, it would result in disaster. Everything joined in his mind, and he formed a logical line to what he was after.
“I think I understand,” Theo said. “I’ve been putting a lot of thought into the next tier of potions. The difference is layers in process.”
“I think it’s too early for this,” Tresk said, grimacing.
“Listen. When my [Drogramath Alchemy Core] crosses to level 10, something is going to happen,” Theo said. “I don’t know if it's automatic, but I’ll understand that additional layer better.”
“Maybe you should ask Perg,” Tresk said. “Luras might even know.”
Theo took another bite of his breakfast, nodding. He washed it down with a mouthful of tea. That sense of discovery was too enticing. It was right there, at the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t reach out and grab it. He reasoned it was because he was edging closer to level 10 in his [Drogramath Alchemy Core], but couldn’t be certain. Questions about his [Drogramath Herbalism Core] lingered in his mind, but he pushed those away. There was already too much to consider for the day.
“I’m going to check the adventurer’s guild, then I’m going to the dungeon,” Tresk said. “Again. That’s sort of my thing, now.”
“If you get more loot like your boots, it’ll be worth it,” Theo said. “Or perhaps a third core.”
“I’m going to be picky with that,” Tresk said, clearing away her plate and cup. “I’ve been toying with combinations in my mind, and I’m hoping a certain demon will help me fund it.”
“Of course,” Theo said, waving a dismissive hand. “I have a feeling my defense project is going to take time. Producing thousands of potions is draining. I need to break through to level 10 on my alchemy core. That’s where the money is at.”
Tresk shrugged, pressing her forehead against his before departing for the day. Theo left after writing some thoughts on parchment. It was a futile thing, since his memory was nearing photographic, but there was a finality to it he enjoyed. The alchemist locked the door before leaving, counting on his shopkeeper’s key to see him in. He left for Perg’s place, enjoying the early morning and its lack of rain. Every step over those cobbles was a reminder of how far he’d come, something that made his heart swell.
He didn’t enjoy Perg’s absence on the outside of the tannery building. He missed the days where she would stand there, waving him on as he approached the place. A few deft knocks on her front door saw it swinging open, revealing the smiling Half-Ogre woman within.
“Theo, how’s it going?” Perg asked. She gestured for him to enter.
“Very good,” Theo said, entering the tannery. The smell of shoe polish hung heavy in the air. “I have a few questions about the crafting cores.”
“Oh? You’ve never taken an interest in them before,” Perg said, taking a seat on the far end of the room. Theo joined her.
“Not until I got close to level 10 in my alchemy core,” Theo said. “My intuition tells me there are challenges ahead that I need information for.”
“What do you need to know?”
“First, I want to understand the nature of the other crafts,” Theo said. “I can dump a potion on a hide, but that doesn’t make me a tanner.”
“No, but I suspect that Drogramath alchemy has something to do with that success,” Perg said. “Since you came to town, I’ve thought of it like this. You’re on a different level to start with. It’s like you came here as a level 30, even if you were level 1.”
Theo thought about the separation between himself and other alchemists. Where they ground salves, he brewed potions. The gulf separating the two methods was vast; she was right. “That makes sense. If I were to use your old process to tan hides, how would that go?”
“Well, you lack the cores and the skills,” Perg started, reclining in her chair. “My [Tannery Core] has an important skill you don’t have. [Process Hides] is an extremely generic skill, but it gives me a bonus to the quality of any processed hides.”
“Does that work with the alchemical method?” Theo asked.
“It actually bumped me from excellent to perfect,” Perg said. “The quality of the wolf hides I start with is pretty high, but without the skill you’d likely destroy it. When you process the hides with the potion, it would be good, or great.”
Theo nodded. “I understand now. Although, I think I already knew. What happens when a tanner hits core level 10?”
“It wasn’t even a skill, but a step in my process became available,” Perg said. “I read about it before I hit level 10, but I can make enchantable leather.”
“Interesting,” Theo said. “I think I have something from that.”
Theo dismissed the topic and asked how Perg was doing. They chatted for a while, the tanner even offering him breakfast. He was too full from the wolf steak to partake, and simply talked. When the alchemist finally left, he set his eyes on Luras’ workshop next door, feeling a flash of guilt that he hadn’t been by to check it out. Fortunately, the Half-Ogre was marching up the street when he left the tannery.
“Theo,” Luras said, nodding. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Theo said. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
Luras snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “As if you have to ask my permission. Why are you so formal today?”
Theo thought for a moment, but couldn’t come up with a good reason. He felt strange about everything that had been going on. Between the mayor position and Fenian’s newest 7 gold order, things were certainly odd.
“Good question,” Theo said. “Things have been moving fast, so I think I’m just caught up in the tide.”
“How poetic,” Luras said. “Join me, I’m heading up to the guild. Ask your questions.”
Theo quickly explained what he learned from Perg, even if she didn’t know what information she revealed. Between Tresk’s information at breakfast, and the tanner’s input, he determined that crafting was broken into three sections. Harvesting didn’t need special cores. Anyone could run around and pick flowers, there were no restrictions. Production usually needed cores, except for the rare case of his Drogramath potions and the leather. Artisans, like Throk and Luras, absolutely needed cores. Sure, he could hammer away on a piece of iron, but like Tresk said, it would be garbage.
“You determined that on your own?” Luras asked, shaking his head. “Must be that high [Wisdom]. Well, you basically got it. The only thing you got wrong is that there’s specialized harvesting that can only be done by people with specific cores. You’ll run across some herbs in the future, I’m sure. Right, so that wasn’t a question.”
Theo laughed. They had arrived at the monolith in the center of town and were standing around. People passed by, giving their greetings to the mayor.
“At level 10, things change. I understand how the process changed for Perg. She got a new step in her line, and I suspect she’ll get more steps at level 20,” Theo said. “What steps does an Artisan get at level 10? You, for example. A leatherworker.”
“There are books for this kind of thing,” Luras said, flashing a devious grin. “You don’t have to riddle it out on your own.”
“The book I was given is written in riddles,” Theo said. “Basic Drogramathi Alchemy is more poems than usable information.”
“I’m a way off from 10, still,” Luras said. “But I’ve heard what you’re telling me, basically. Once you cross that threshold, something opens up in your mind. The floodgates release knowledge into your mind, revealing different ways to approach a piece of leather. There’s a purity in the grain that I can’t detect, yet. The example I’ve seen in the books is that I’ll be able to innately know where that perfect grain is.”
Theo stood, his eyes glassy. Something itched in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t scratch it. That single word, purity, set off a chain reaction in his mind that revealed a secret of alchemy. He was viewing the process of distillation all wrong until this point. He made a mental note, filing it away for experimentation later.
“You there?” Luras asked.
“I think you just told me how to make potions above level 10,” Theo said, beaming.
Luras snorted. “Care to share?”
“When I extract essences from reagents, I’ve always viewed it as telling the still which property to extract, then it magically does so,” Theo said. “The thing is, I don’t think that’s how it works. I think the still simply creates the closest possible essence, but impurities remain. Those impurities are the other properties.”
“You got that from my rant about leatherworking?” Luras asked, casting a confused look at the alchemist.
“Yeah, that was the last piece,” Theo said. “I think I would have understood after hitting level 10, but this gives me some time to come up with a plan. I think I’ve already experienced this with another essence.”
Theo left out the part about the truffle. He trusted his friends, but that wasn’t something the citizens of Broken Tusk needed to worry about.
“Well, glad I could help,” Luras said.
Theo snapped out of his own mind, mentally kicking himself for being so selfish. He had a habit of putting himself before others in conversation, constantly wrapped up with machinations that would take a long time to bear fruit. He smiled, clapping his hand over the Half-Ogre’s considerable shoulder.
“How is the business?” Theo asked. “Do you need anything?”
“I need more experience,” Luras said, grinning. “A lot of it. But no, things are great. I’ve got a little money saved, and I know my mayor friend will waive my rent if I fall short. Won’t he?”
Theo laughed. “Absolutely. Let me know when you produce something that’s worth wearing. Tresk could always use new armor.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luras said. “Her gear is decent, and I’m not good.”
“Not good, yet,” Theo said. “I’m serious, Luras. There are three artisans in town, but we need more.”
“I know,” Luras said. “I want to make it on my own.”
Theo nodded, saying farewell to his friend. He fell back into his thoughts, feeling a sense of the unknown creep up on him. The alchemist wondered, for a moment, if his constant pestering was annoying Fenian. He shrugged, trudging north toward the quarry to check on the stoneworkers and clasped the crystal tightly in his hand.
I’ve had a revelation, Theo said.
Good morning to you too, Theo, Fenian said.
Theo explained his theory about the artisan’s progression, which the elf confirmed to the best of his knowledge. While Fenian didn’t take part in crafting himself, he’d heard enough to support the idea.
Certainly, you didn’t buzz me for that, Fenian said.
No, I have a question, Theo said. Something that’s been bothering me for a while.
Theo passed by the farm, feeling another pang of guilt for not sorting their situation. They were next on his long list of things to do.
Let’s hear it. I’m still in Rivers and Daub, by the way, Fenian said. Almost done with business… almost.
Why do adventurers use so many potions? Theo asked.
What a question. Why would you complain? No matter, I’ll explain it as I understand it. The whelps these nobles are training are at level 1, which means they cannot use the second-tier potions—the stuff you’re going to be crafting me soon—so they must use the first-tier, Fenian said, pausing for a moment. Theo watched the farmers work. At level 1, your potions will restore all their health. By level 5, for the fighters, perhaps half. These people train constantly. They do not rest. A single noble child will consume fifty of your potions a day, maybe more.
Fifty? Theo asked. That seems absurd.
Well, once they hit level 10, they’ll upgrade to the second-tier potions. They’ll consume a lot less, because of the potency, Fenian said.
So, the cost of the second-tier potions is more, Theo reasoned.
Exactly.
I may have more questions later, Theo said. I hope this isn’t a bother.
For you? Never.
With that the connection was severed. Theo stood there for some time, considering the economy of it all. He pushed those thoughts away, fording a path past the farms and into the rocky terrain of the northern reaches.