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It had been a late hour when Renouart finally released the paladins from the garrison of Willowmourne, and into the custody of your tribe. The boy who pulled a knife on you would recover the use of his jaw given time, with only a few missing teeth as punishment for his actions. Charges would not be pressed against the Opranians, as they had acted in your defense and only when the boy had clear intent to hurt you. But it was with pointed glares driving daggers into the holy men’s backs that accompanied them as they followed you out of the city, and deeper into the Moonlight Plains.

That is not surprising. Religious differences aside, there were still those in the Empire who held little more than scorn for Opran and its inhabitants, if not outright hostility. Two hundred years since the country’s secession from Aderaveth, and some nobles and smallfolk alike had not recovered from the shame of their ancestors.

The same could be said about your people. If the paladins felt anything from the wary and distrustful looks, they did a good job of hiding it. The shorter of the pair, Ignatius, maintained an aloof and indifferent demeanor, a sharp contrast to the friendly smile tugging at the mouth of Solarius. You’ve heard stories of less-than-pleasant interactions between Ingulans and the layfolk of the Kingdom of Light, and take solace in the fact that nothing has come to blows. Yet, anyway.

But from the way the Elder Voice had reacted to the object the paladins had presented to her, the two of them had more than secured their places as guests among your people. Your superior in the faith had gone as white as flour, hastily returning the object to its container and retreating into her tent with instructions not to be disturbed until the following evening. All of this had happened, but not before she snatched the satchel itself from the warriors, too stunned to quickly respond to the appropriation of the object. Not that they seemed to complain too staunchly. Because from the looks of excitement they shared between themselves, they had accomplished something they had set out to do.

Thus, the paladins have stayed the night, given an empty storage tent to lay their heads down upon the earth and rest. It is no proper domicile, but it is better than nothing above one’s head. Especially since it had rained the night prior. An unexpected squall in the middle of the dry season. The practice of divination is not your trade, but you do not need to know about casting Aetherion’s bones to know that it’s a sign. What that sign is, however, heralding good or evil things to come, is beyond your understanding.

(cont.)

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Heads are raised as you, designated by custom as the host for the guests, make your way towards the paladins’ tent. Some of the tribe wave before continuing on their work while others bow deferentially. And there are those who call out your name, and you return their greetings with smiles of your own and the occasional wave. There are no strangers among the two hundred some Children who Dance in the Shadow of the Mountain.

“Goddess’ blessing upon you, Skysinger.” Yaya Ista crones from her position at her son’s butchering table. She fills three bowls with soup stock, hands withered from age still able to expertly slice cubes of dried meat. “We have guests, do we not? I’ve made my special broth. Humble fare compared to what we make for visiting tribe leaders, but it is still honest enough.”

Indeed. You have not eaten, and the smell of the soup is enough to set your stomach to rumbling. “Yes, we do,” You offer, smiling as you accept the bowls: two for the paladins, one for you. “Friends from a distant land.”

“How distant? And are they Children? Skysinger, you know how much I’ve prayed to Ingur for a good husband for my granddaughters. Are they the answer to my prayers?”

Ah, that is right. Ista, always worried about finding suitors and husbands for all of her granddaughters.

“No, they are not Children. And they come from outside the Empire.”

“How interesting! Miathal, you must ask as to the Children in their lands. Scattered though we are across the land, surely they will know of other Children.”

The only Children that come to mind in Opran are the Iathunan who abandoned the Elder Gods for the God of Radiant Light. If there are still Children who practice the Elder Faith in the Kingdom of Light, they are either many years dead or unknown to you.

“I will ask,” You say, balancing the plates with your hands, “But I cannot make any promises.”

“That is all I need,” the old woman says, gently clasping your hands with her own, leathery palm. “Thank you, Miathal.”

>>The Paladin’s Tent

To your surprise, there is no one within the canvas.

You cleared your throat to announce your arrival, only to be met with the sound of the village. Perhaps they were still asleep? It had been past midnight when you returned from Willowmourne. And with the long journey from the border mountains, fatigue would be reason enough for them to continue their dreams.

But it is not the case. A discreet finger pries open the fabric holding the tent’s entrance shut. In the tiny hole, you can see that the only sign of habitation is a pair of bedrolls, well used and slept in. Their occupants are nowhere to be found.

(cont.)

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“If you are looking for the paladins, you will find them atop that hill, one hundred paces to the West.”

The young man shifts from his position to the side of the entrance, pushing himself off to stand in front of you. The accentuation of his tattoos give the impression that he is constantly scowling, the pigmentation forming sharp and angular crests around his brow. The bone hammer at his back jangles against talismans and tools at his belt as he approaches with a smile.

“Dheruv!” You smile, carefully setting the bowls down before you run to embrace your friend. “When did you return?”

“Only an hour ago. The night’s storm destroyed one of the bridges leading from the Vethic Road directly into the Plains. I was forced to retrace my steps and take an alternate route through Willowmourne.”

“And your mission?”

He reaches into a pouch at his hip, pulling out a jar stoppered tight with cork. Floating in the red fluids of their own excretions, ten pairs of wyvern’s eyes stare at you, their eyes slit tight as a snake’s. “More than successful,” He jokes, returning the jar into his bag. “I expected the Voice to be pleased that I retrieved the reagents she asked for, but I was turned away from her tent.”

You offer him an apologetic smile. “Ah. She is…deep in her meditations, I believe. Our visitors…they brought something with them that caused her great worry.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“A stone tablet,” You say, holding out your arms to give an approximate estimate of what you saw only a few hours ago. “But I could not read what was inscribed. The runes were too fine to make out with the absence of the moon.”

He nods. “Understandable. I for one share similar frustrations when Tdulok seeks to hinder my hunt.”

“Have you considered praying to Erithri?”

“I pray to the Firstborn before I pray to the Lord of Night on a hunt. Regardless, I must hunt in the conditions I am given, regardless of the conditions. The new moon has made getting the last of these eyes difficult.”

“I have little doubt about that,” You return, before your eyes flicker back to the three bowls of soup sitting on a barrel. “Dheruv, you said you knew where the paladins went. You met them as they woke up?”

“I was passing by when they came out of the tent, asking for directions. They said that they needed to pray,” He states, gesturing towards the top of the hill. “Apparently, one of the edicts of their God requires for them to face the sun at the highest point in the area.”

Not unusual, given their devotion to a God of Radiant Light, but the way he says it raises your suspicions.

“Is there something the matter?

(cont.)

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“No, Mia, nothing’s wrong. It is just something strange, but ultimately harmless. One of the paladins, the shorter one, asked me where he could best find game. From the wire trap in his hands, I believe he means to catch rabbits.”

You do not fail to notice his flickering glance to the bowls of soup and bread in your hands. Something on your face must have shown your irritation, because his teeth flash with a sharp grin. “Did they not think we would feed them? And if we did, that we would poison their food?”

“I would hope not,” You return, slightly disgruntled at the news. “Because this is Ista’s family recipe. A thousand curses upon the fool that would even dare to think of poisoning her special soup.”

He spits, a gesture you’ve long come to accept to mean agreement. “Yes. But I would not be so quick to dismiss the possibility. The others of my blood are not so temperate as I am.”

“…does your father know that they are here?”

“He is still on the hunt for the drakeling that made off with a herd of sheep. When he returns here is anyone’s guess. Tomorrow, or the next week? Only the gods will know when he will come back, but I do not need divine insight to know how hot his wrath will burn when he hears that Opranians are in the camp.”

Yes, that would be worrisome. Very, very worrisome. “The paladins said they would only stay briefly. They will be quick to leave once the Voice finishes whatever action she is doing to their object.”

His face is grim, the tattoos of his brow furrowed with worry. “I hope so. For their sakes just as much as my father’s-”

Someone’s stomach growls, and it is not yours this time. Dheruv flushes red, embarrassed at the reaction his body had made to the aroma of Ista’s soup. “Ah…Mia, I would like to speak to you later. If that’s alright. I have not had food for the last twelve hours.”

“Then go!” You gently shove him towards the direction of Ista’s table, laughing at his startled face. “Go and eat before you collapse into the mud! Or begin to eat the Elder’s ingredients!”

>>Hill overlooking the camp

The walk up the hill is neither hard nor terribly long. The incline is gradual, and it does not demand great feats of dexterity and balance to keep both you and the soup from spilling. Within ten minutes of morning wind and downtrodden grass, you finally make it to the top of the hill, the place where the paladins have gone to pray.

Here, you are offered an unfettered view of the Moonlight Plains. Aldawi, the Lady of Dawn, has risen above the horizon, casting her warmth across the ancestral home of the Ingulans. In the distance, you can see wyverns flying across the distant forests, and herds of plainswalkers lowing in fields of dandelion and onion grass.

(cont.)

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Paladin Solarius kneels on the ground, uncaring that the soil of the earth seeps onto his armor. His arms are outstretched, wide open as if to receive something from the morning sky. The expression on his face is dissimilar to yours whenever you see a Skysinger begin their worship, caught in that same rapturous expression, the assurance that the deity that you pray to is the correct one among several faiths that have taken root in Kaithe.

His lips move one last time, beseeching his God for guidance the days ahead. Then, his arms fall down to signal the end of his prayers. Wincing at the crack that his bones make upon standing, he wobbles uncertainly before righting himself at a balance. He does not seem too surprised to find you here, knowing that you had arrived a long time ago. “Thank you for letting me finish.”

The memory of your prior encounter flashes in your mind, and you chastise yourself to be in the better mood than you were the day before. “Woe to the human who would interrupt the prayers of a holy man. Or woman,” You say in accented Westeron. “I do understand the importance of silence when praying.”

“Another commonality.” He smiles as he extends his hand towards you. “I believe we should have a better introduction than the one we yesterday. I am Brother Solarius of the Godsblade, Paladin of Opran and adherent to the Lord of Radiant Light.”

You hesitate only for a moment before you return the gesture, shaking his hand in the gesture of the Eridians and the Vethics. His hands are calloused, especially around the area where the joints of his fingers meet his palm. This is a man who is more accustomed to swinging a sword and shield than spending time in a chapel, pouring over holy text and scripture.

“Your stance of prayer…” You observe, releasing his hand and pointing to the ground. “Is different from what I’ve seen. I have never seen its like.”

“Ah.” He reaches into his armor, gauntleted fingers scrabbling against a chain at his neck before they take hold of the band. A metal amulet forged to resemble a sun stares at you from where it hangs on the paladin’s necklace. “Have you ever seen this symbol before?”

You shake your head that, no, you have not.

He smiles, gazing at his amulet as if it is the most precious thing in the world. For him, it probably is. “Before I donned the silver armor of the Godsblade, my sword was sworn to the Brotherhood of Sunlight. My first order worships God in His aspect as the sun, a heavenly body that showers us with light. Like a magnificent Father, gazing upon His children from high above the earth.”

“…in my faith,” You slowly reply after a moment of thought, “The sun is the first daughter of the Elder Gods. She is Aldawi, the Lady of Dawn, and wife to the moon, Tdulok, the Lord of Night.”

(cont.)

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“I see…that is very interesting.” He tucks the amulet of the sun back into his armor, nodding at your words. “That is fascinating indeed…”

You believe it, too, when he says it. Solarius, if nothing else, is apparently very sincere.

“…but you will have to forgive me if I show preference for my faith’s belief,” He concludes with a friendly smile, once again turning towards the sun, unflinching from the intensity of the light as he gazes upon it. “Oh, if only I could be so grossly incandescent…”

There is a moment of silence as he just…basks in the light of the morning sun. Even you, one who is not the most inclined to social niceties, begin to feel uncomfortable. Not to mention that the soup is going to get cold, summer or not. The rite of host and guest has fallen onto your shoulders.

“Order,” You say the word, rolling it over your tongue as if tasting something for the first time. Solarius blinks, snapping out of his trance and returning his attention towards you. “Godsblade, Brotherhood of the Sun. Separately, I know what these words mean, even with my limited Common, but in the context of your faith…I know nothing.”

Understanding breaks across his face. “Ah, I am sorry. I sometimes forget that I am not in Opran from time to time, where this knowledge is commonplace…but I do not mind providing a brief explanation. Now…pardon me, but is that soup that I smell upon the wind?”

It is, and you pass him one of the three bowls of Ista’s soup. He thanks you for the meal, but sets it aside on a nearby rock. “I will wait for Ignatius,” he explains at your confused look, “The brothers that pray and eat together will stay together and prevail.”

An aphorism of some sort, you suppose. Speaking of which…

“Where is your companion?” You inquire. “Why is he not praying with you?”

“Ignatius has gone hunting,” He explains, settling down into a comfortable sitting position on the grass. “And he has finished his prayers before I have.”

You cock your head to the side in introspection. “He is a fast prayer, then?”

“I would hope not. Rushing through prayers is considered offensive. No, we both have our prayers, but I offer extra prayers long after he finishes. A habit of mine from my earlier years in the faith.

“But before we get any more distracted,” he says in an amicable tone, “I was to explain orders to you. In the Oratory of Light, we worship the same God. However, we are divided into several sects, orders if you will, that are responsible for a certain task and responsibility. Godsblade, Brotherhood of Sunlight, Radiant Wings, and many more orders in the service to the faith.”

Ah. So that is what they are. Suddenly, the hated name cursed by your elders, Flaming Rose, begins to make some semblance of sense.

(cont.)

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“To be in the Brotherhood is to be a missionary,” he continues, spreading his hands out to form a welcoming gesture. “And we travel the land to spread the Light of God through our testimony and our actions. The light in our souls will be the salvation for the world.”

You nod, motioning for him to continue as you shift in your seat. “I see. And what of the others?”

“The Order of the Cleansing Hand are healers and hospitallers, men and women who provide healing services. Radiant Wings are pegasai piders. Units of men and women who have tamed the beasts and ride them into battle as auxiliary cavalry or rapid response. Last I heard, they were trying to domesticate wyverns. With little results to show of it, unfortunately.”

Fortunately.

“There is also the Eternal Eye, the order of sorcerers and mages sworn to the service of the Oratory.And my current order, the Godsblade, is comprised of the elite from all the orders. To be selected to take the trials is the highest honor a member of the faith can receive in their lifetime. Our duty is to travel to wherever the Oratory desires us to perform feats of great danger that no other order can.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow. “And what would these dangers include?”

He shrugs. “Bandits, the occasional monster, rogue mages and the odd Vascieli raiding party are commonplace for what my order does.”

“I see…” Just as you are about to ask him about the Flaming Rose, the gods laugh, and Solarius cuts in with a question of his own before you can speak.

“Does the Elder Faith have any orders within its ranks?”

And before you can put that question to rest (the answer is no, the concept of orders sounds completely bizarre to you) Ignatius rounds up the hill, carrying a brace of rabbits in a wire trap.

“Ari, I found ourselves breakfast!” He shouts, waving the animals in his hands, flopping limply from side to side with every abrupt gesture he makes. Even from a distance, you’re fairly sure you can hear more than a few bones break with his rough handling of the animals. “Get the fire ready, it’s time to eat!”

So is there going to be a test on this later or something?

Which order does what, etc?

Can it be an open note test? I need this A.

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>Fort Alnerwich
>Winter 55, 238 ACR
>Marcus Painel

When Yaya had finished reading Ellana’s fortune, the princess was almost as pale as the dress she wore. Still, she managed to compose a barely-coherent thanks before grabbing onto your arm as tight as she could. The old crone only laughs as you turn the full brunt of your evil eye upon her, as you wrap a portion of your cloak around your charge before departing from the tent. The twins bow as they see you out, sinuously moving as you exit back into the alleyway.

You do not look back as you swiftly make a path towards Mazur’s fortress. But something in your gut tells you that even if you did, there would be no sign of the tent, nor their strange and unsettling occupants. A tingling sensation rolls up and down your spine as the event of Ellana’s reading replays in your mind.

The Unexpected Child. You were not meant to be among all of your siblings, but your arrival was welcome nonetheless with open arms and love…interesting…crossed with Aldawi, the goddess of light. You were born under her sign, the first dawn of spring that brings light to the cold world.

The Lonely Star, crossed with the Elder Constellation. You struggled to make relations with your siblings, having been away from home for months at times. Perhaps this has changed? But you still are troubled by their hesitancy to embrace you as one of their own in the beginning.

The past is not too troubling, although Ellana seems to twitch with every other word. Not that you can blame her. But…gods. They get along so well, the Crowmond siblings. It was never always like this? The closest thing you had to siblings were the street rates that ran along with you in your years with the Black Alley Locusts. You were not bound by blood, yet you still remained together. That blood relations would shun their own is unsettling.

Then things took a turn for the weird when Yaya reached the present.

The Ripple in the Ocean. You find yourself in the center of a plot, a catalyst whose presence causes waves across causality. From one small instance with you in the center, its effects can be felt throughout the whole realm, perhaps even beyond the Empire. Who can tell for sure?

That much is obvious. An assassin coming for a princess of Aderaveth is more than enough to set the whole realm into an uproar. Not that it is, given the secrecy of your exodus from Karthmire Keep, courtesy of Lord Commander Palme and Lord Pullman.

Tdulok’s Shadow crossed with the symbol of Erithri…you are protected by a shadow, one who is an adept of death. How…droll. We already know that from your man’s previous reading…such a waste…

And then things took a turn for the horrifying when the seer reached the future.

(cont.)

Now, things are getting interesting! A sign I have never seen cast in all my years of divination…

The Blood of Your Blood ensnared and trapped by the Aetherion’s Spawn, the Primordial Elements…one by one, the elements will claim your family. See here, they spell out how the Earth already has a grip on your father! Air and Fire will consume your brothers, and the Water beckons to your sister and mother…

The façade that Ellana maintains just shatters. Her face goes pale, and her expression turns to one of horror. Her breath come out in short, pained gasps, desperately trying and failing to say something, anything to refute Yaya’s claim.

You cannot stop it, no matter what you do! It will come to pass, such is how Aetherion’s bones spell it out! All you can hope for is to reclaim what’s left…if there’s anything left at all, that is…

The calm and collected princess, who has never shown any other emotion aside from moodiness and amicability, begins to tremble in unadulterated fear as the Ingulan cackles maniacally at her reaction to the bones.

>Get Ellana out of there, now.
>Wait for the last divination.

>>767469
>>Get Ellana out of there, now.

Divinations and predictions are always shit. Mostly because they imply your fate is not your own.

And that's quite homosexual.

>>767469
>>Get Ellana out of there, now.

>>767469
>Wait for the last divination.
to run away now is basically believing it.

But the Burning Fever is Earth? odd.

>>767469
>>Wait for the last divination.
...sometimes it's safest to hear all words no matter how much you dislike them due to their wisdom.

>>767469
>>Wait for the last divination.

>>767469
>Wait for the last divination.

I don't think we're going to run into true seers that often, and this is important.

>>767495
>>767494
Or you just give a little girl some dread hanging over her head that amounts to nothing. Or maybe actions caused because you listened to the prediction make it self fulfilling.

Nothing good EVER comes from prophecy. Better to live your life day by day instead of having bullshit hanging over it.

>>767469
>>Wait for the last divination.

You'd think letting one of princesses get manipulated would be a bad move for a Crownguard.

>Wait for the last divination

As loathe as you are to stay, divination from true seers are rarer than blue moons. And to run away is to leave it all to the whim of some distant god or the entity that is fate. No, you have to stay. For both of your sakes. And besides…Yaya said herself that while it can’t be avoided…the outcome can still be changed.

This time, your hand reaches out to clasp onto Ellana’s. Her eyes are wide, almost to the point of tears, as she grips your offered limb as tight as she can.

“Hold on just a little more,” You whisper, all the while glaring at the seer with as much hatred as you can muster. “Fate set in stone. We can’t stop it from happening, but we can change it. We will change it. But we cannot plan if we do not know what is going to come…”

The words are enough to set her at ease, and her eyes flash with a brief glint of steel. For a moment, in the dim lighting of the tent, she resembles the woman who had charged you to protect her life. Through her daughter’s body, Empress Melianna Crowmond levels a determined stare at the Ingulan, who has long since stopped laughing.

“Continue, Yaya,” she coldly utters. “I will see this through the end…just as Marcus did...”

…very well. The last divination…

…whether or not you can save your family changes little for this prediction. The Boiling Earth and the Song of the Spheres collide, shattering the Precipice upon which the Hero stands. The world you know will change forever, as an enemy forgotten by all returns to Kaithe. This you will all bear witness too...

That had been four hours ago. Now, you’re back in Ellana’s room, having successfully dodged any prolonged interaction with the servants and any of the guards, both Pullman’s and Mazur’s. Allanus is still in the courtyard, and Adrianna seems to be talking with Klara. No pointed questions, no reason asking as to why the Princess looked so scared.

You alone could not have accomplished this. Though the visage of her mother has long since faded upon entry into her room, Ellana was able to keep calm, the only sign of her distress the occasional twitch and trembling fingers. Those were all taken care of easily, with a comforting hand on her shoulder, and a few whispered words of praise for her bravery.

“Marcus…” Her eyes are red and bloodshot, puffy from silently crying into her pillow. “Will it happen…I…what am I supposed…I don’t know…”

>“Live as you would normally, for tomorrow, we die.” [Memento Mori]
>“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy or fate.” [Rejection of Fate]
>“You must prepare yourself for what will come.” [Innocence Lost]
>Custom option.

>>767975
>>“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy or fate.” [Rejection of Fate]

>>767975
>>“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy or fate.” [Rejection of Fate]
You help us reject what we thought was going to be our fated death, we will help you change what may come.

>>767975
>>“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy or fate.” [Rejection of Fate]

>>767975
>“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy or fate.” [Rejection of Fate]
>"Never give up while you still draw breathe"

Alright kids, I am going to try and explain why this is a bad idea. It's not going to matter since most of you probably just cast your vote and left but I am going to try anyways.

Let's talk about prophesy and if the future is already written or not.

If the future and fate are all set in stone the prophesy is useless. All you got was a spoiler and nothing you do will change it. Enjoy living with that hanging over your head for the rest of your life until the time comes.

If the future is not set in stone and can be changed the prophesy is useless as it is just one ending out of many and every action we take on a day to day basis can change it. So here you are desperately trying to change your fate when it may have already changed and you may do something self destructive or stupid in your path to change it.

So all you get in the end is just dread hanging over your head for the rest of your life, jumping at shadows cause something seems like the vague prophesy.

Even if you don't believe it, it will still always be there.

>>767975
Anyways it wasn't as bad as I thought and the damage was already done with the family death prediction, but holy shit seriously guys have a little more foresight before you get a member of royalty manipulated by prophesy, real or no.

>>“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy or fate.” [Rejection of Fate]

>>768040
That depends on whether that's how it actually works or not.

>>768142
How what works? Fate? It seems pretty clear cut. Either it can be changed or it can't.

What did you have in mind?

The answer is simple.

“We are not slaves in bondage to prophecy and fate.”

You sit down on the bed besides Ellana, shrugging off your cloak in a single movement. It takes a brief moment, but you have it wrapped around her, coming at over two times her size like a shawl too big for her to wear.

“When you saved my life back in Karthmire, the odds were that I was going to die, and I had accepted that. I was not one to believe in prophecy then, and I still do not believe in now. But here I am, in your service, when all else pointed in the direction of my death. The bond between the two of us is proof that anything, even fate or prophecy, can change.”

You gently wipe away the tears in her eyes with the hem of the blanket, offering a muted smile. “It is healthy to have worries for the future. But it isn’t healthy to constantly be paranoid, leaping at shadows at the slightest provocation.” The irony of the statement is not lost on you, and before Ellana can say something, you quickly continue, “Okay, bad choice of words considering who I am and what I do, but listen.

Your finger jerks in the direction of the market square. “That old cu…conniving snake of a woman said it herself. What she said will come to pass, but as long as we fight with everything that we have…we can overcome whatever prophecy or doomsday prediction comes out of her mouth. And on a less serious note, Ingulan prophecies have more than a fifty percent chance of failing.”

Ellana sniffles, running her sleeve along the front of her nose in an unladylike gesture. “How...how did you get those odds?”

Marcus, take a look at this! The prophecies in the book you stole are so vague that in theory, they all could happen. Here, give me my quill, right next to my spell components. I want to do some arithmetic…

“I read it in a book somewhere a long time ago,” You brush her off. “But even if Yaya was a true seer, the point remains that it’s not what we do now that affects the future, but what happens in that critical moment. Okay? So yeah, you can be worried about it. But don’t it consume you. It’s just another form of attachment to hazeleaf or alcohol. It will come when it comes, and we’ll give it all we’ve got to change our fate.”

>Ellana sharply approves.

(cont.)

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She eventually fell asleep, only after crying into your shoulder and making a mess out of your tunic. A princess she may be, but at the end of the day, she’s still an eight year old girl. About to turn nine, apparently, when winter ends and spring arrives.

A Crownguard’s duty is the well-being of their charge, so you it isn’t a bother in the slightest as you hold her, patting her shoulder as she sobbed and hiccuped. Out of the two revelations, it’s more than clear that the one concerning her family hit the hardest. And the thing about the elements…

…fuck. You stop yourself before you fall into the endless loop that is paranoia. If Palme or the others knew that something was or is going to happen, then they would’ve already taken care of it. Hopefully.

“Ah, Painel.”

Lord Pullman catches you as you went down to the hall for a late snack, with explicit orders for the Eagle Knights at Ellana’s door to not let anyone in until you return. You bow to the Lord of the Vale as he reaches your table, a tankard of mead in one hand and a wedge of cheese in the other.

“I asked everyone else already, but you were busy with Ellana earlier when I came around to the Crownguard. Did something happen while you were out? The two of you didn’t come down for dinner.”

“The princess was feeling under the weather.” A half-truth, considering the emotional wreck she had been when you returned to the fortress. “And thought it best for her to lie down. Perhaps it is the atmosphere that’s at odds with her? The stench of the fish is quite…strong.”

He scoffs at that. “It’s no smellier than Karthmire. The city is little better than a cesspool of shit and filth. And at least the fish is a sign that something actually lives in the river.”

…fair enough. “So what is it that you wanted to ask?”

He grins. “Lord Mazur and I will lead a thousand-man force into Silverstone Mines to clear out the Vascieli that have taken hold of the quarry. We’ll gut the bastard in a single strike and rid them once and for all from the Vale.”

It’s surprising how soon he’s going to launch his retaliation strike, but you suppose that’s his disdain for rebel scum in his territory showing. “And you wish for me to join the fight?”

“Only if you volunteer. I’ve already got Silverow and that redheaded Crownguard to fight. Allanus’ Ingulan is staying behind just as protection for the children. You did a good job at the midbridge, so I thought I’d make another offer. What say you, Crownguard?”

>You will aid Mazur and Pullman assault the Silverstone Mines.
>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.

>>768342
>>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.

>>768342
>>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.

>>768342
>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.

>>768342
>>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.
best to keep it at 2 and 2 no?

>>768342
>>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.
We're better at sneaky stuff, outright offensive assaults? Nah.

>>768342
INB4 He dies in the mines due to a collapse or something, the Earth claiming him.

>>768342
>>You will stay in Alnerwich to investigate the Alchemy Guild.

File: Poison Bottles.jpg (133 KB, 736x489)

133 KB JPG

You are fairly adept at combat, that goes without saying. But a mass battle, especially in something as tight-fitted and claustrophobic as a mine shaft? You take your victories where you can, and an outright offensive assault is a far cry from the infiltration and stealth missions you’re better suited for.

Not to mention that it comes into conflict with your goal to investigate the Alchemist’s Guild for that discrepancy in Mazur’s archives.

“I am honored that you would remember me,” You say, “But I’m afraid that I must decline. As skilled as Archer is in combat, I have little desire to leave the Crowmonds alone with only one protector. It’s fine to take Silverow and Lupine, but Archer and I must stay behind.”

Pullman grunts, seemingly unsurprised by your answer. “Balance, eh? Can’t argue with that. Now, if you will excuse me, there’ some last minute preparations that I must attend to. Good night, Painel.”

>>Ellana’s Room

As the princess sleeps, you situate yourself by the windowsill of the tower, opening up your alchemy kit and laying out all the tools of your trade. Nightfall is when the Alchemist Guild expects thieves, and is doubtless on higher alert than they would be in the day. It only makes sense for you to attack when they least expect it.

Now, all you need to prepare is the tools of your trade, all the more important now considering the place you’re breaking into. Courtesy of raiding the Mazur’s pantry, you’ve taken enough to ensure that you’re not strapped for ingredients. At the same time, you took enough that would leave either irresponsible housekeeping or rodents to blame for missing foodstock.

And unlike your years before the Crownguard, you’re actually flush with funds to reimburse your unintended victims.

>You now have 15 Ingredients.
>You now have 7 Slennush Mushrooms
>You lost 50 Copper Links

>Poisons are created by using Ingredients
>Ingredients can be either bought from herbalists or harvested in the wild
>For some poisons, a specific Catalyst is required
>Poisons are described: (Effect, Lethality, Speed)

>Creating poison requires passing a Knowledge Check
>Individual poisons have their own hidden DC
>Nat 100 = Mutated Poison, double potency
> Nat 1 = Failed Poison, waste of ingredients

>You now have:
>10 Arums, 140 Crowns, 322 Links
>15 Ingredients
>7 Slennush Mushrooms
>1 Widow’s Tear
>2 Hangman’s Noose Poison
>10 Hazeleaf (Refined)

>Current Poisons:
>Tier 1
>>Bodylock (Paralysis, nonlethal, fast) [4 Ingredients]
>>Hangman’s Noose (Asphyxiation, lethal, medium) [3 Ingredients, 2 Slennush Mushrooms]
>>Widow’s Fang (Necrosis, lethal, fast) [5 Ingredients, 1 Widow’s Tears]

>Tier 2
>>Sinkroot Extract (Acidic, lethal, fast) [3 Ingredients, 1 Slennush Mushroom, 1 Sinkroot]

>Current Antitodes
>>Panacea (Counters Tier 1 Poisons/Venoms) [4 Ingredients]

>What will you make, if anything at all?

We will go over Bomb-making in the next segment.

>>768643
>Panacea
Need to pass out antidotes.

>>768643
>Panacea
2 of these at least

>>768643
>Bodylock (Paralysis, nonlethal, fast) [4 Ingredients]
>Widow’s Fang (Necrosis, lethal, fast) [5 Ingredients, 1 Widow’s Tears]
>Panacea (Counters Tier 1 Poisons/Venoms) [4 Ingredients]

>>768643
Can we use the Sinkroot Extract to melt locks?
Otherwise I'm not sure aside from Panacea.

>>768643
Couple Panaceas and whatever we used back at that fort to replace it.

>>768664
2 Hangman's Poison. That's about it.

>>768678
Yes, it is possible to do that. However, you don't have any with you, and Sinkroot is an ingredient unique to the Vascieli. Only they know where it's grown and how to harvest it.

Nothing that cracking the cipher won't solve...or torture.

>>768681
You used 1 Widow's Fang and 1 Hangman's Noose on two different blades.

Let's see if we can reach a general consensus of what we want.

>>768698
>2 Panacea
>1 Widow's Fang

We can replace the Hangman once we get more ingredients.

>>768643
>2 Panacea
>1 Bodylock

Feel free to second anything.

>>768722
>>768719
Eh just go with this one as we don't have a Bodylock yet.

>>768706
This works. Kinda leery of leaving us with no bomb ingredients though.

>>768719
sure this.

>>768738
Bombs do not use ingredients.

To save time, it seems that this one >>768719
Is gonna be the one that gets written. I'll see what I can do to streamline poison/bomb making in the future.

>Role 3d100 + 20
>Panacea, Panacea, Bodylock

Writing...

Rolled 49, 93, 61 + 20 = 223 (3d100 + 20)

>>768762
Nat 1s incoming.

*Roll. I can't believe I missed that...

Rolled 88, 40, 42 + 20 = 190 (3d100 + 20)

>>768762

Rolled 100, 1, 14 + 20 = 135 (3d100 + 20)

>>768762

Rolled 19, 53, 11 + 20 = 103 (3d100 + 20)

>>768762

>>768790
>crit antidote
worth the wasted one

>>768790
Huh

>>768790
>1
Wow.

>>768790
Well, it's better to get rid of the 1s now than later, I suppose. Silver linings, silver linings.

Goddess' Tears is what you get when you land a Nat 100 on a certain antidote/healing item.

Writing...

>>768823
Glad I rolled then, despite the 1

>>768823
>Goddess' Tears
We're already repaying the cost to saving us.

>>768836
>>768849
Hate to be a downer but...
>on a certain antidote/healing item.

Which I think implies getting a nat 100 on something else. Not the panacea.

>>768823
>healing item
Let me guess, it's angel food cake

File: Bomb.png (53 KB, 217x322)

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Two Panaceas and one Bodylock. It’s a successful infiltration if you leave without getting spotted. Or better yet, not having to kill someone. And given the vapors that the Guild building expels on a daily basis, you suppose that you’re glad to make two antidotes that can counter MOST commonly encountered poisons.

The moon hangs high above the Wrehlzwth Mountains by the time you finish your work. Wiping the sweat off your face and letting the fumes eek out into the air outside, you take a moment to examine what you’ve wrought.

There is bad news and good news. The bad news is that one of your Panaceas is little more than a dud, a complete and utter waste of Ingredients. You’re a little angry at that, but you don’t give into your temper and throw the concoction out the window. You pour it out instead, taking care to scrub the bottle dry before putting it back into your kit.

The good news is that you’ve successfully made one vial of Bodyluck, as well a mutated Panacea. The True Panacea will counteract all poisons and venoms of all potencies and types, whether lethal or nonlethal, fast or slow acting. An incredibly powerful tonic for what is essentially a lab accident. Still, you do not complain, grinning as you tuck the bottles into your belt.

>Poison Satchel Components
>>You now have 3 Ingredients
>>You now have 7 Slennush Mushrooms
>>You now have 1 Widow’s Tear

>Antidotes/Poisons
> 1 Bodylock (Induces temporary paralysis)
>2 Hangman’s Noose (Induces asphyxiation)
>1 True Panacea (Cures all poisons across all tiers)

In Karthmire, you were never able to use the other half of Lucien’s teachings as often as poison due to the rarity of certain components. But with Mazur in close proximity to an Alchemy Guild, and with your talent in picking locks, you’re now able to flex your fingers and broach the second part of your father’s legacy for the first time in many years.

Bombs.

===========

>Bombmaking Unlocked!
>Bombs are crafted from Ceramic Casing and Components
>Follows the same rules as poison making.
>Nat 100 equals stronger chemical reaction, double potency
>Nat 1 is a dud, waste of ingredients, can detonate prematurely

>You unlocked (Panic Bomb) from the The Vascieli Book
>Bomb Satchel:
>> 8 Ceramic Casing
>> 6 Accelerant
>> 4 Flash Powder
>> 10 Hazeleaf (Refined)
>> 5 Resin

>Current Bomb Formulae:
>Tier 1
>>Flash Bomb (Support, Nonlethal, Fast) [1 Ceramic Casing, 2 Flash Powder]
>>Flame Bomb (Fire, Lethal, Fast) [1 Ceramic Casing, 3 Accelerant]
>>Shard Bomb (Fragmentation, Lethal, Fast) [2 Ceramic Casing, 2 Accelerant]
>>Panic Bomb (Hallucinogenic, Nonlethal, Fast) [1 Ceramic Casing, 3 Hazeleaf]

>What do you wish to create?

>>769015
>>>Panic Bomb (Hallucinogenic, Nonlethal, Fast) [1 Ceramic Casing, 3 Hazeleaf]
3 of them

>>769015
2 flash
2 panic
1 flame
1 shard

>>769039
seconded

>>769039
+1

>>769039
>>769053
>>769054

>Roll 4d100+30
>One for each type of bomb
>Flash, Panic, Flame, Shard

Rolled 45, 22, 82, 100 + 30 = 279 (4d100 + 30)

>>769061

Rolled 53, 54, 66, 35 + 30 = 238 (4d100 + 30)

>>769061

Rolled 87, 62, 94, 53 + 30 = 326 (4d100 + 30)

>>769061

>>769065
>>769070
>>769076
Pass on all and a Frag grenade

File: Specter's Dream.gif (831 KB, 500x335)

831 KB GIF

>>769065
>>769070
>>769076

Your fingers easily fall into the motions once more, gently loading the containers with their relevant powders and triggers and screwing them shut tight. Within three hours, the bombs are complete, and the moon is at its highest it will be tonight. Five bombs that are expected to do what they are, and a Shard Bomb with an extra bit of kick into it…

>Potent Shard Bomb does more damage to unarmored targets, shreds through tougher armor

>Bomb Components
>> 1 Ceramic Casing
>> 1 Accelerant
>> 2 Flash Powder
>> 4 Hazeleaf (Refined)
>> 5 Resin

>Bomb Satchel
>> 1 Flame Bomb
>> 2 Flash Bomb
>> 1 Panic Bomb
>>1 Potent Shard Bomb

With that taken care of, you put away your kit, ensuring that you don’t make enough noise to wake up the princess. And after finding a comfortable spot to settle down upon, you cross your legs and focus inward to yourself.

The familiar sensation of your senses shutting down one by one lulls you into the Specter’s Dream, and behind your closed eyelids, you can feel your eye’s change as they flare with an unearthly color. Then, the cycle begins, and all you know is a dreamless trance...

>Specter’s Dream 8 Hours (Investigate in the morning, +5 Bonus to Stat Rolls)
>Specter’s Dream 12 Hours (Investigate in the afternoon, +10 Bonus to Stat Rolls)

>>769215
>>Specter’s Dream 12 Hours (Investigate in the afternoon, +10 Bonus to Stat Rolls)

>>769215
>>Specter’s Dream 8 Hours (Investigate in the morning, +5 Bonus to Stat Rolls)

>>769215
>>Specter’s Dream 12 Hours (Investigate in the afternoon, +10 Bonus to Stat Rolls)

>>769215
>Specter’s Dream 8 Hours (Investigate in the morning, +5 Bonus to Stat Rolls)
gotta greet Elana properly

>>769215
Investigate in the morning, +5 Bonus to Stat Rolls)

Gonna hit the sack for now, gotta get up early tomorrow. I can pick up the slack when I wake up and Tuesday for this week, maybe a bit of Wednesday as well.

I feel like I'm on the verge of a writing breakthrough where I can shorten my snips.

Still, just as a last choice before I hit the sack...

>Three possible entry routes into the Alchemist's Guild if you want to keep physical confrontations to a minimum.
>Inert Exhaust Pipe under renovation (Low risk of environmental hazard, high lookout)
>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)
>Storm Drain into the river (High risk of environmental hazard, low lookout)

>>769322
>>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)

>>769322
>>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)

>>769322
>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)

>>769322
>>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)
At last time to break out our handy fake mustache kit.

>>769322
>>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)

>I feel like I'm on the verge of a writing breakthrough where I can shorten my snips.

I honestly think you broke a record for longest intro. 10 updates. 8 of which was just a side character that was mostly meant for worldbuilding.

>>769322
>Main Entrance with a disguise (No risk of environmental hazard, medium lookout)

R.I.P Kaz

Alice found him

>>773711
Actually, I'm almost finished with the snip. Just two more paragraphs and I'll be ready.

Writing...

>>773718
I didn't know Zombies could write, neat

File: Alnerwich in Summer.png (1.11 MB, 1280x640)

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>Alnerwich
>Winter 56, 238 ACR

For the first time in as many days, the morning sky over the Vale is devoid of any overhead clouds. While air itself is devoid of any birds chirping and the temperature remains frigid, Alnerwich still bustles to life as the sun comes over the Wrehlzwth. Fishmongers open their stalls, carts are loaded with barrels of supplies, and children giggle and laugh, throwing snowballs and causing trouble for their elders.

You woke up at around nine o’clock, just in time to greet Ellana as the magisters ring the fortress bells to a resounding nine chimes. Her eyes show the bleariness of one troubled by nightmares, but a pointed smile from you is enough to dispel her anxiety away. Still half-asleep even as you let her maidservants into the room, she managed a thank you before the better part of a yawn cut her off.

>8 Hours in the Specter’s Dream gives a +5 to Stat Checks!
>Ellana approves.

Breakfast had been a subdued affair, with only the Crowmonds, Klara Mazur, Urath and yourself at the dining table. Lords Mazur and Pullman had taken to the field, marching their thousand-man army out of Alnerwich and towards the mines in the wee hours of the morning. With them, Patryk, Silverow and Bellatrix had followed in the hopes of finally driving the Vascieli from the territory of the Vale.

For their safety, the Crowmonds will stay inside the fortress, much to Allanus’ obvious dismay. Adrianna and Ellana do not offer any resistance, merely nodding as Klara lists the places where they can spend the time. You quickly lose interest after she mentions needlework, in addition to a lesson with their magister about the history of Alnerwich.

“I’m heading out,” You tell Urath in a whisper. “There’s something in town that requires my immediate attention.”

The Ingulan frowns, before shrugging in nonchalance. “You would not need to tell if it was not important. Then you go. I will protect Crowmonds while you are out. Do not take too long.”

“The matter should resolve itself quickly, and without too much trouble.”

Now, you find yourself on the road opposite of the Alchemy Guild, leaning against an alleyway to inspect the building ahead of you. On first inspection, it would appear to hang precariously at the edge of the land, but supports in the water both mundane and magical, appear to keep the building from sinking. The waters of the Anosar lap at the docks in its shadow, as workers unload crates and other assorted shipments from barges and river cogs, to be received by a busybody of a clerk at the gates.

(cont.)

From what you’ve been able to see by scouting around the perimeter, several possible points of entry exist. One of the exhaust towers appears to be inert, the great fires within the building unlit and devoid of the smog it would normally produce. A storm drain at the underside of the “foundation” empties…fluids out into the river. Definitely not water given how it glows in the right lighting. And, of course, the two entrances, the main gate and the worker’s port, where customers and trade goods respectively enter the premise of the building.

Out of all the entrances you’ve chosen, it is the main ones that you’ve deemed the least hazardous, as well as the one least suspect for you to enter. Disregarding the worker’s entrance…a thief entering through the front door? How ludicrous! Gods know that this disbelief is something you’ve been able to exploit before.

Now, how to enter the building…

>Go in as a customer, looking to buy reagents and supplies.
>Knock out a worker and disguise yourself as a Guild Member.
>Present yourself as you are with the seal of the Crownguard.
>Custom option.

>>773838
>>Go in as a customer, looking to buy reagents and supplies.

>>773838
>>Go in as a customer, looking to buy reagents and supplies.

>>773838
>>Go in as a customer, looking to buy reagents and supplies

>>773838
>>Go in as a customer, looking to buy reagents and supplies.
Seeing as the workers have their own entrance, dressing up as one to take the main entrance might seem suspicious.

File: Coin Purse.jpg (58 KB, 700x560)

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“Next!” The scribe’s voice is thin and reedy, almost matching the elderly appearance of the man. His robes hung on him like canvas over a scarecrow, and the slouch of his back showed many years spent hunched over books or with a nose deep into alchemic concoctions. He is bald save for a scraggly beard that comes down his chin, giving him the appearance of a goat as he squints at you. “And what’s your business with the Alchemists’ Guild today, boy?”

The ostentatious blue of the Crownguard and Crowmonds’ regalia is absent from this set of armor, the leather edges simply trimmed in neutral grey as you present yourself to the clerk. Still, you make an odd sight in comparison to the surrounding men and women, simply dressed in roughspun wool or cloth, barring the guards at the gate itself. They stifle yawns as they lean against their spears, showing a desperate need for a change of the guard.

“I am here on behalf of my master,” You say, adopting a heavy Opranian accent without as much as a slip or moment of hesitation. Lucien was a mysterious bastard, but he always spoke Westeron in the manner of the Kingdom of Light. Of all the voices you can mimic, it is the “man from Opran” that comes to you easiest. “He has sent me to purchase reagents and items for his alchemy and research.”

That seems to wake up the clerk, if not the guards who continue to stare at nothing in particular. The old man blinks, staring at you with new consideration. “…and who is this master of yours, boy? And what is his business here? You are a long way from your country.”

He bought it hook, line and sinker. Excellent. “His is a simple traveling professor of all things concerning knowledge. He would be akin to one of your magisters, a man of science. The two of us are here to compile a study on Aderavethian flora.”

“And does this master of yours have a name?”

“I doubt that any would know it. He prefers to keep to himself, even in the company of our countrymen. But for the sake of record keeping, I will state it. I have the honor of serving Professore Riviera von Kruze.”

“…I assume you have the necessary coinage?” He replies flatly, scribbling the name into his book. “Barring magisters and sorcerers of our own country, our stock is something that many cannot afford. It does not matter whether or not your master is accomplished in his country…”

His words fade away as you open your coin purse, allowing the golden surface of your aurums catch the light of the morning sun. “Ah. Very well. Now, this is the part where I ask for documentation, thrice verified by the Veridian Order.”

Shit.

“…of course…” Greed sparkles in his eyes, and he eyes the bulging coin purse in your hands. “…we can provide the necessary documentation. All it would take is a little...tax of sorts…”

(cont.)

An Opranian accent is a mix of Italian/German

File: Herbalist.jpg (184 KB, 685x1165)

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One bribe later and twenty crowns lighter finds you in the receptacle of the main hall, a spacious room easily twenty by twenty five feet. Chairs line the stone walls, upon which rest a myriad sort of people that sit waiting for their turn in the queue. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be too many who are here on business, only about five people scattered about the room. Some bear the robes of the Viridian Order while the Ivory Amulet hangs from the necks of the others.

Magisters and magi only, then. And then there’s you.

You do not have to wait long. A station opens up within a few minutes of your entry, and a runner, a boy no older than nine, informs the clerk that it is your number that has come up. You are escorted past the double doors that lead deeper into the building, right underneath the halberds of guards who are just as sleepy as their outside counterparts. He takes you to a room, a laboratory from the looks of it,before bowing and motioning for you to enter.

To your surprise, the clerk waiting for you is a young woman no older than seventeen, dressed in the uniform of an Alchemist, not just a Guild worker. While her hair is unkempt and her clothes have the faintest scent of ingredients clinging onto the cloth, there is a certain charm to her appearance. An herbalist then, one specializing in salves as opposed to the more volatile concoctions associated with the craft?

“Good morning to you, ser,” She greets you. Even her voice displays some amount of fatigue, but she does good job of covering it with a pleasant smile. “And welcome to the Alchemists’ Guild. How can I help you today?”

You return her smile with one of her own as you take a seat. “I am no sir, lady, but I am in need of ingredients for my master. He has run out and is in need of supplies to continue his research.”

Just like the clerk at the gate, she is momentarily taken aback by your accent. “Ah. Well, that is not so unusual. Is there a list he gave you, a catalog of sorts?”

You deliberately hesitate, playing further into the part of the apprentice. “Yes, but…it is in my country’s tongue. And what you may call wyvern’s eye may different in my language. Formulae are universal, but naming…that is something that changes varying from region to region.”

“That seems to be a problem…” The clerk chews at the bottom of her lip before brightening up. “Perhaps you could describe them for me? I am well versed in ingredients from across the continent.”

Hmmm…

“As am I, good lady. But I would think it easier if I were to see them instead. I can identify what my master wants from a single glance. You have…a storage room, then? A repository or pantry for your wares?”

(cont.)

The smile on her face gives way to a frown. “I’m sorry, but I am afraid that I cannot let anyone not a member of the Guild into our storage facilities. A rule, I’m afraid…”

…damn. Well, that certainly puts a crimp into your plan of talking your way into the deeper parts of the building. If there’s any place where you’d expect to find records, it would be the office of the head supervisor. Mengus Silvera. Wherever the hell that’s supposed to be. Probably the protrusion on the outside of the building. That’s where you’d place your lab if you were the head of an Alchemy Guild.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself. You still have another obstacle in front of you…

>Offer her a bribe with your money.
>Seduce her into letting you in deeper.
>Sneak away when she goes out.
>Try to convince her to let you in..
>Custom option.

>>774280
>>Seduce her into letting you in deeper.

>>774280
>>Seduce her into letting you in deeper.

This will be the one time we fuck up a social role with the opposite gender

>>774280
>Seduce her into letting you in deeper.

>>774294
>>774300
>>774303
So we're seducing a girl while pretending to be a suave italian man. I really didn't think I'd see that in the quest.

>>774259
Is there no possibility of giving up on seeing the good directly and just finding out where the records or goods are stored, we can always go back and break in at night, we're really good at that.

>>774331
I just want someone to report to the lord of this city that some Italian asshole stole from the Alchemist guild while we're in the room

>>774280
Doesn't seem like the bribable type, that's a very uncertain time frame for sneaking, and I just don't see us doing the smooth operater thing.
>Try to convince her to let you in..

>>774259
>Sneak away when she goes out.

File: Embarassed Herbalist.png (547 KB, 1045x584)

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She seems to be the incorrigible sort, possessing the kind of professional integrity that most would have at the start of their careers. Bribes will not work on her, and you would be hard pressed to try and make an argument when you’ve passed yourself off as an apprentice. Then again, she might also be at the lower end of the ladder, given her simple robes and lack of insignias of office.

But aside from waiting for her to leave so that you can sneak out…there is one other option.

It literally churns your stomach, just the mere thought of…seduction. Using it in your early made you feel oily enough, no better than a Red Snake or undercity thug. But now, after Serena’s death? Ellana and Ansell may have done a good job of tending to your wounds, but the one in your heart has yet to heal, recently torn open by the visitation of her specter.

But you grit your teeth and hold the bile in your stomach from coming up your throat. You are a Crownguard, and you must do what you have to do in order to protect your charge. Regardless of how distasteful the immediate choice feels to you.

“Well, that’s a terrible shame.” Your voice purrs as you offer the girl a knowing smile, drawing yourself closer towards her. “Do you not trust me? Among other things, Opranians are known for being trustworthy and obedient the law. However, it would be easier for both of us to simply…let me in. If you tell me not to steal anything, I promise that I would not do so. Unless, that is, you give me your…explicit permission.”

It’s better than what you’ve heard on the docks, and only slightly less odious than the lines Serena has read in horrible romances that came with the books you stole for her. You have the distinct feeling that someone somewhere is laughing at you. But, it seems to have the intended effect.

A noticeable blush breaks out on the cheeks of the herbalist, even as her quill pen scratches violently across her vellum in a wide streak of black. “Ah…but…” She begins, desperately trying to clear her throat and regain some semblance of professionalism. You’re in luck. In her inexperience, she appears to be unused to suggestive innuendos. Compliments, too, perhaps. “…I…that is…the edicts...”

“Look, I will show you how it be easier for the two of us…” You stand up from your chair, swiftly rounding the table to come directly at her side. She stiffens as you point towards certain parts of her face. “Your beauty and professionalism does a good job of hiding it well, but I can see that you are tired and overworked. I know your suffering, how maddening and vexing it is to be hunched over books and ingredients for hours on end.”

(cont.)

File: 1375939058241.png (153 KB, 380x413)

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>>774499
>ey bb u wan some fug?

>>774499
>You have the distinct feeling that someone somewhere is laughing at you.
Witchcraft! How did he know what I was doing?

>>774499
You gently take her hand, lifting the stylus from limp fingers as you raise your other hand to your lips in a gesture of silence. “Good lady, let me help you,” You implore her, dialing down the smile from one of suggestion to warmth. “We will save ourselves pain and stress and time, time that can be well spent in other ways.”

She seems to finally manage to swallow her spit long enough to form coherent words. “…o-other w-ways?”

Bingo. You go in for the kill, gently cupping the side of her face. She twitches at the contact, as your calloused hand glides along near unblemished skin. “I would need to thank you somehow. If it is money you need, then I shall give it to you. I am not strapped for funds. Perhaps we can have a…vigorous discussion on the finer points of alchemy, from one student of the art to another. I’m sure that we will bring different points to the table of discussion, and might even prove helpful in your own research. My master has taught me well in alchemy.

“But, if you wish…” She shivers as you lean in close, your breath hot and gentle as it blows along her ear. “…I can show you the...other things that Opranians are well known for.”

Gods, you want to die.

>Roll 1d100 + 40 (+10 Social, +30 Circumstance)
>Best of three

I'm actually struggling not to laugh because my household is asleep right now.

Rolled 49 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551
EY BITCH
WAIT TILL YOU SEE MY DICK

Rolled 77 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551

Rolled 65 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551
nat 1

Rolled 79 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551

Rolled 59 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551
Wow, we get +30 for social rolls? We're better adjusted than I thought.

Rolled 61 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551
NAT 1 NAT 1 COMEON, ARCHER/ELLANA/ADDRIANA/SERENA, WALK IN ON THIS

>>774567
I bet it's cuz she likes the accent

Rolled 13 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>774551
Rolling for the hell of it.

>>774567
It's also factoring in her inexperience with these kinds of things. So yeah, it's part you, part her. You would either have no bonus or an unseen penalty if you're going up against someone not so easily flustered.

>>774558
>>774563
>>774565
>89, 117, 105

I'll take 'em!

Writing...

>>774551
Holy fucking shit we are laying it on thick. Is Marcus really ridiculously good-looking or something? Because damn that shit would not work on anyone unless they are already itching to jump your bones.

>>774590
Oh shit we're gonna go back and somehow archer will know we got laid and judge us

>>774606
how is +30 circumstance an implication of innate skills?

>>774590
You know I wonder if Marcus is the danger to Adrianna.

>>774626
...oh I'm dumb, I revered the situational and the innate. Ignore me.

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>>774598
He's no stranger when it comes to women, case in point with Serena. And his father did it too, that is to say flirting with women. Maybe it's a genetic thing. Lucien looked like pic related when he was only a year or two older than Marcus' current age.

>>774635
Shit happens. You're fine.

>>774614
Or smirk knowingly.

Writing...

>>774638
I'd figured he'd judge us for not doing our job but hey he's a bro

>>774638
So really ridiculously good looking. Gotcha. No wonder Adrianna gets a crush on us. Mysterious incredibly competent good-looking guy around her own age who is well spoken but distant with sad eyes, and is socially not acceptable at that ripe age for rebellion shows up out of the blue. The cheap romance novel practically writes itself.

>>774666
So flashbomb when she makes a move on us?

>>774558
>>774563
>>774565
There is a pregnant moment of silence…okay, bad choice of words. There a very heavy moment of silence as the herbalist struggles to form coherent sentences. Her face is completely flushed crimson from the roots of her hair all the way down to where the cleavage of her uniform.

She has to audibly swallow, and you can see the intricate moment of her neck forcing down the lump caught in her throat. A metaphorical lump, of course, as it’s just a coping gesture that people do to get themselves talking. But, you digress.

“Ah…that would…I…” She eventually stammers out, trying to put as much distance as she can between the two of you. Her chair doesn’t seem to want to comply, as she quickly runs out of room to scoot, keeping her barely a few inches away from your face. “…you…seem…to be…trustwort-HY!?”

The tail end of her sentence turns into a yep as her momentum accidentally takes her right over the edge. But you move, and in an instant, you’ve caught her in your arms. The only thing that hits the floor is her hat, landing on the stone with a little pomf before crumpling in on itself. And her hair, kept up in a neat little bun just spills out down her shoulders, past wide eyes and cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you offer her a confident smile.

The pose is iconic. To anyone just walking in, it would appear as if you were laying her down on the ground. And it's not lost on her. You didn't think it was possible, but now her breath is going faster.

“Be careful now,” You gently tease her, and the chortle to come out of your throat sends her into a deeper shade of red. “It would not be good of you to be swooning now, while there’s business to attend to. All that of that can wait until later if you wish…or perhaps now?”

And once again, she dissolves into incoherent stammering. Well, this is certainly awkward, and you don’t even know her name yet. Hmmm. Well, it’s probably better just to wait for her to recover on her own prerogative. You’re not one to rush things.

>>Much later

“My name…” She clears her throat, re-positioning her hat with trembling fingertips as she once again takes her seat. A blush still dusts her cheeks, albeit less intense than the one a few moments prior. “My name is…Claudia. Claudia Hildegard.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” You reply, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your heart. “My name is…”

>Use an alias.
>Use your real name.

>>774729
>Use an alias.
Inigo Montoya

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>>774666
Do you know that feeling? The one where you're sitting on a secret that you want to tell and it burning a hole in your pocket since you want to share it with the class but you won't because it would ruin the surprise?

I'm feeling it now, Mr. Krabs. Eight. Whole. Prewritten. Pages of it.

That aside, Marcus keeps his hood and cowl up for the most part, so not a lot of people know how the full extent of how he actually looks.

>>774729
>>Use an alias.
Ricardo Feliz Elaya

>>774729
>>Use an alias.

>>774736
You better share with the fucking class soon

>>774729
>Use an alias.
so much for srs

this one >>774737, the name's not important.

>>774736
Pls no tease Kaz. It makes us sad.

>>774729
>>Use an alias.
We need something that sounds like it /could/ be an alias, but nothing overt. The name itself doesn't matter.

>>774736
Several QMs I've read have mentioned that sitting on secrets is one of the most frustrating parts of the whole business. The right couple of words at the right time can change your entire perspective on the world. I trust you to tell it in good time, when It'll have the most impact.

I'm gonna call it quits for now, got class in a few hours. We'll pick up a bit tomorrow and Tuesday, maybe longer depending on how long the thread stays.

>>774744
Patience is a virtue, anon.

>>774754
Sorry. Can't help it.

>>774759
Yeah. It's like unexploded ordinance right under your seat. You both dread and anticipate the moment you get to drop it and watch it explode.

>>774729
>pregnant silence
>PREGNANT
FORESHADOWING

>>774775
So does the Nimble Fingers 2 trait apply to getting intimate?

R.I.P Kaz

Halloween was too spooky for him

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>>779763
Boo.

=====

You had anticipated this. Perhaps your name may not be as well known to the Empire’s by virtue of your relatively recent appointment to Ellana’s Crownguard, it would be idiotic to simply go announced as you were. “Marcus” is a common enough name in Aderaveth, but “Painel” is…you’re actually not sure on the origins of your last name. Something you’ve always wondered, but never got around to fully exploring. Not that you have any inclination to at the moment either.

“Amadeo Elaya de Berulia.” The name comes smoothly enough from your tongue, along with a soft chortle. Three random names, pulled from three different people that you’ve either read in books or know from history and legend. “Please, do not hesitate to call me by my first name, Lady Hildegard.”

“Oh…but, I’m not a lady!” She protests, shaking her head vigorously at your words. “I mean…no, I’m not male, that isn’t to say that I thought…”

You shake your head ruefully, once again gently placing a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “I apologize for flustering you. We Opranians believe that women, no matter their standing, are to be addressed with no lesser amount of courtesy than a noble would receive. We can correct that if you wish.”

She takes to the offer with obvious relief. “Yes, yes, that would be…ah…preferred. You…you may call me Claudia…yes, Claudia, Ser Elaya.”

You smile, pulling her in without any warning. A choked noise of surprise comes out of her throat, and she squeezes her eyes shut…only for you to simply lean in and whisper into her ear. “Again, I am no ser, merely a common man with a talent for alchemy. But…just like that, Claudia, with that exchange of names, we are strangers no more. And do not hesitate to call me Amadeo.”

You can see and feel the shiver that runs down and up her spine as your words and breath diffuses along small hollow of her neck. There isn’t an inch of her face that isn’t blushing, even when you draw away from her to a relatively safe distance.

“Uh…” It takes her another moment to snap back into reality, for the glazed look in her eyes to be replaced by the sharp focus of alertness. “Uh…you…Amadeo…ah…you…said that you were…that you needed…something?”

“Just to see your ingredients, I as I said before. To save us stress and time…time spent better in more…” Your eyes flicker towards the table, towards the ingredients and tools scattered about. Alchemy is what comes to mind, but the voice that follows makes it clear that alchemy is not the only thing left up in the air. “…productive pursuits.”

And she seems to feel that way as well. Any more red, and she would put a market tomato to shame.

“I think that it’s best that we start…”

>Alchemical equipment. [Closer to the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]
>Ingredient stockroom. [Further away from the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]
>Custom option.

>>779789
>>Ingredient stockroom. [Further away from the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]
Lines up with story and lets us grab crafting stuff.

>>779789
>>Alchemical equipment. [Closer to the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]

>>779789
>Alchemical equipment. [Closer to the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]

>>779789
>>Ingredient stockroom. [Further away from the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]
Amadeo is lewd.

>>779789
tie? what tie?
>Alchemical equipment. [Closer to the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]

>>779789
Back to tie and back and back again.
>>Ingredient stockroom. [Further away from the Supervisor’s Laboratory.]

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“In the ingredients stockroom.” The sensual edge in your voice bleeds away, turning into a friendlier tone. “While I am also here to buy new alchemical equipment for my master, I would like to get the more arduous task out of the way.”

“Ah…well,” She clears her throat, once more adjusting her little hat and robes before making a hesitant gesture to the door behind her lab. “If…if you would follow me…”

You smile. “With pleasure.”
>>Interior of the Guild

The smell that greets you when Claudia opens the door is enough to water your eyes. And that is saying something, considering how you’ve developed a resistance to the more pungent fumes produced by your concoctions. The best description you can come up for the current odor is the unholy fusion of fermented eggs set to cooking inside the corpse of an auroch, just as the acids of a swamp consume its flesh. It’s that bad.

Claudia’s path takes you to a walkway above the main hall, where down a floor below, alchemists of lower rank toil over dozens of cauldrons and vats, simmering over a roaring fire. The mixtures vary from pot to pot, some possessing the slow consistency of molasses while others have the alacrity of boiling water. With every new catalyst added to a pot, more than one concoction changes color, either from a natural chemical reaction, or a byproduct of a magical component.

You cannot identify the concoctions brewed from this far of a distance and the communal stink of the fumes, but you can recognize a few ingredients on preparation tables. A drakeling’s venom glands, rich in vitriol and acid. Extract from leaves of aloe, delicately measured by an acolyte’s trembling hand. And to your surprise, the root of panax, imported from the Jade Kingdoms, lying on a specimen table as a point of contention and debate between the senior members of the floor.

Once you reach the ground floor, the two of enter into an adjunct hallway, passing through a set of iron-reinforced double doors that Claudia has to fumble at a ring of keys at her belt. You pretend to have an interest in the soft line of her jaw, and the curve of her neck that trails down to her chest, even as you analyze the shape of the key and the lock it goes into. Nothing you can’t pick given time, but as with Mazur’s archives, you’d have to be especially wary of traps if you were to try and break in.

Once the door closes, the noises coming from the main laboratory cut off, becoming muted, muffled as if listening through a body of water. You nod approvingly at Claudia, who offers a weak smile of her own before leading you deeper into the inner halls of the Guild.

(cont.)

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The stockroom itself is only slightly smaller than the main hall, but it easily outshines the confined economy of the fumigating laboratory. Shelves upon shelves are lined with ingredients, some of which you’ve never even seen, only heard about in text or Lucien’s occasional murmurs between beatings. Pickled monster livers float in jars next to dried leaves and roots harvested from flora across the continent and beyond the Nefilheim Ocean. All of this and more easily go up a full floor up from where you stand, with some of the rarer components even reaching the ceiling.

“And it’s all meticulously catalogued,” You murmur, running a finger over a brass plate of identification. “For easy access and identification should your masters require an ingredient at a critical moment.”
Claudia seems to frown at your incredulity. “Of…of course. We hold ourselves to high standards of organization. Do…do you not do the same in Opran?”

Talking about alchemy seems to put more of…not a backbone or confidence as much as it’s a more professional composure. Still, you welcome that more than constant stuttering.

“My master, the professore is one whom you would call…a disorganized genius.”

Understanding and a small amount of pity flash in her eyes. “Ah…” She hides a small smile behind the tips of her fingers. “No wonder you are surprised. I do not know how it is in the other cities’ guilds, but here in Alnerwich, we are very strict. Everything must be where it is.”

“Tell that to my master,” You wryly mutter, even as you pull out a chair from a nearby table. From your pocket, you draw a list of ingredients, herbs and other benign ingredients that when mixed a certain way, become poisons, venoms, or components for bombs. “I would apprentice myself under the man…or woman who would instill common organization into our lives.

“But I must not badmouth my master. He has been good to me, in spite of…what he likes to call his ‘organized chaos’. Here is the list of ingredients. Please, take a seat. This may take some time, and I would not halve you standing on ceremony.”

Claudia accepts the offered seat with a bow, settling herself in as you go for your own seat. To your surprise, she has not taken out a reference book or tome of her own, even as you smooth out the corners of your list. “…are you ready?”

“Yes,” She says, and there’s an eagerness that you’ve never heard from her before. “I have spent my entire life here, growing up among the ingredients, fumes and the tomes of the alchemists. I assure you that if your descriptions of ingredients are correct, I will be able to identify and locate that ingredient within a relatively short time.”

(cont.)

That’s…that is actually quite impressive. “A talent,” You declare, once again curling your lips into that knowing grin, “That only accentuates your beauty.”

Thankfully, it takes less time for her to recover from her embarrassment than in the times prior to your entrance to the stockpile.

>You want ingredients that you can turn into…
>Lethal poisons. [Expensive: 3 Golden Aurums, 50 Silver Crowns]
>Nonlethal poisons. [Cheap: 1 Golden Aurums, 25 Silver Crowns]

>>780184
>>Lethal poisons. [Expensive: 3 Golden Aurums, 50 Silver Crowns]

Keep throwing money at them

>>780184
>>Nonlethal poisons. [Cheap: 1 Golden Aurums, 25 Silver Crowns]
Unpopular opinions, but I like having more non-lethal options.

>>780184
>Nonlethal poisons. [Cheap: 1 Golden Aurums, 25 Silver Crowns]
Leaving people alive has its uses.

>>780184
The funds we have on hand, were did we get them from? We've plenty of money, but if it's not going o be replenished anytime soon we should be frugal.

>>780184
>>Nonlethal poisons. [Cheap: 1 Golden Aurums, 25 Silver Crowns]
Stuff to make with littlest princess.

>>780268
Pullman gave you a cut of the Vascieli loot when you cleared out the Midbridge garrison.

Writing...

Why not both?

>>780315
...well, it's too late for that at this point in my writing. Of course, you can always come back later if the opportunity arises and you have the inclination.

Writing...

>>780330
RAILROAD
CHOO CHOO

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It takes the better part of an hour, but it’s a process that you don’t have too much grievances with. To your surprise, the experience is not…unpleasant. If anything, it’s an engagement you find yourself enjoying. You let yourself fall into the roll you’ve played, this time without the salacious advances on your part. Between the two of you, you simply face each others as peers in alchemy, and make a little game out of identifying ingredients.

More than once does a particular description throw her off, only for her to completely name the correct component with only one more word or another guess of the ingredients. She’s smiling, laughing at one point as you scratch your head at one of the more esoteric titles that the Aderavethians have for one ingredient. Here, Claudia is in her element, a far more enjoyable person than the one you tried to seduce upstairs. She makes a pleasurable contrast between your previous teacher, who only instructed you through cold words and unrepentant trial and error.

And you yourself…you can’t help but let a smile tug at your lips now and again, one devoid of sensuality and desire. You cannot remember the last time you had this much fun. But it does not last.

Just as the sun comes over one of the small windows high above the ceiling, it falls down upon her, bathing her in the morning light. And for an instant, the laughing image of Claudia Hildegard blurs, becoming indistinguishable between that of a blonde-haired mage, with eyes the color of the endless sky, and a smile so sweet it hurts to behold.

Serena.

In an instant, your stomach churns, and you the urge to vomit almost overtakes you. From where you were leaning back on your chair, you fall back onto the floor with a weighty crash, struggling to keep the bile in your throat from rising, desperately trying to breathe…

“Amadeo?” Claudia is beside you in an instant, panic across her features as she reaches out to touch you. “Amadeo, are you alright-?”

“Don’t-” You manage to cut yourself off before you violently demand her to back away, to get as far away as she can before the image of your departed lover appears before you again. Thankfully, it is surprise, not fear, that breaks out across her face, and you somehow manage to force yourself to speak. “I’m…I’m alright…”

“No, you clearly aren’t. Still, I’m surprised it took you this long to succumb to the fumes of the hallway. You’re certainly more resilient than most, boy.”

The new voice, a deep and rumbling baritone, causes the two of you to jump. But for Claudia, her eyes are now filled with an equal amount of fear and surprise as a man steps into the main thoroughfare of the storage room. Who the hell? And he managed to sneak past your senses…

(cont.)

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If it isn’t for the robes, you thought he would have been a guard or the leader of the forces protecting the Guild, given his large build. His clothes mark him as a high ranking member of the Guild, spun from the finest silk that money could purchase, almost flowing off of his frame like water over the edge of an embankment. The man is bald, and the only hair on his face consists of his brows, raised in a gesture of neutral inquiry, even as he wrings his hands together.

A man, who by all means, should not have been able to slip past your senses. Unless…unless…hidden tunnels are not an impossibility. And spells to turn one invisible certainly exist…only for the more powerful of mages, though. The possible explanations make your head hurt more than it already does.

But the surprises do not stop there. Oh, no they don’t. Two more completely pull the ground from underneath your feet.

The first of them is the chain that hangs around his neck, bearing the signet of the Alchemists Guild set in pure silver. Around the alchemical rune for the sun, the man’s personal crest is inlaid within the piece, the same crest that flies from the standard atop the tower, just underneath the heraldry of Lord Mazur.

Yet it is the second one that completely changes your view of the mission. Claudia’s voice is equal notes of relief, pleasure, disappointment and more from the single word to come out of her mouth.

“Father?”

...oh shit.

“Yes, that is who I am, but I have other titles as well. So, if you may, allow me to introduce myself.” He merely nods at Claudia, before turning the full brunt of his attention to you. A wry smile tugs at his lips. “I am Mengus Silvera, head supervisor of the Alchemists’ Guild. I would very much like to know…what business is it that you have with my daughter, foreign stranger?”

>“…a collaboration between two students and peers of alchemy.”
>“…it is just a business transaction between customer and clerk.”
>“...the seduction and penetration into your daughter's smallclothes."
>Custom option.

>>780528
>>“…a collaboration between two students and peers of alchemy.”

I want to take option 3 so so bad, but we professional

>>780528
>>“…a collaboration between two students and peers of alchemy.”

>>780528
>>“…it is just a business transaction between customer and clerk.”
That last option is tempting...

>>780528
>>“…it is just a business transaction between customer and clerk.”
that turned into
>“…a collaboration between two students and peers of alchemy.”
as we worked things out.

>>780528
Changing my vote to
>“...the seduction and penetration into your daughter's smallclothes."


Since the missing 5 vials were logged in the records and covered up with a lie, there has to be something strange going on with the administration.

>The man’s personal crest is inlaid within the piece, the same crest that flies from the standard atop the tower, just underneath the heraldry of Lord Mazur

I'm not sure I understand the implications of this. That he is a blood relation of Lord Mazur, that he is a mayor of some sort, or if there is some sort of complicated agreement between Lord Mazur and the alchemist.

>>780905
The Alchemists' Guild in this certain location ultimately kowtows to Alnerwich, and by extension, Lord Mazur. Mengus retains some autonomy as he's the head supervisor, but he still has to bend the knee to Mazur's authority at the end of the day. Just a symbol of showing who's in charge, nothing other than that. It's still a guild and a part of the Empire.

Writing...

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It takes a moment for you to get over the fact that you tried to seduce the daughter of the man you’re trying to investigate. No, not just tried. Completely succeeded considering how…flustered and responsive Claudia had become. The thought of actually following through with the deed…the possibility had crossed your mind, but it isn’t something you’re about to use as a default or immediate plan of action.

Still, you take the offered escape route, turning your…coughing fit into a response to the fumes that come from the main hall. Deprived of a normal upbringing you may have been, you aren’t stupid. Better to make your exit as a (possibly) philandering no-good than to be revealed as the Crownguard to Ellana Crowmond.

“…it started as a business transaction,” You wheeze, massaging your throat as you hold fast and firm to the Opranian accent. “…between a customer and clerk. A normal deal that eventually…turned into a collaboration between…two students and peers of alchemy…”

Silvera’s eyes flicker towards his daughter – there’s no familial resemblance between them. Adopted, perhaps? –, and she nods hesitantly. From your angle of recovery, you can see that she’s both relieved and grateful that she didn’t have to provide an answer. If her father noticed, he has a good enough of a bluffing face to not give anything away, merely holding his silence.

Then, he speaks. “You seem to be well-versed in alchemy, to be able to discuss concepts and formulae in spite of a language barrier.”

“…I would think,” you slowly begin, gesturing to the pile of notes you have on the table, “…that alchemy is a universal language, and that no matter who practices it or where they do so, they will be able to understand another practitioner in spite of a lack of a common tongue.”

“You share one tongue, and an eloquent one at that. Westeron is only marginally behind Iulian as your country’s primary language. And it seems that it’s been able to let my daughter lead you past the point of customer access and into a place forbidden by outsiders.”

The silence in the room is deafening, only broken by the sound of vertebrae popping into place as Claudia’s neck snaps right up from her little hang of recalcitrance. And you can’t even begin to imagine the look on your face, desperately praying that it maintains stoic-

“But you are not an outsider,” He continues, smiling as if he anticipated your reaction. “You are one of us, a fellow servant to the progress of science. Tell me, boy, where is your master? Who is your master? I would very much like to invite him to discuss theorems and formulae.”

…well, that’s not good.

======

(cont.)

In the end of it all, you managed to escape back to Fortress Alnerwich in one piece, with your paid ingredients and without any extremities missing from your body, as well as a free pass to come and go as you wished. He must have been impressed with you, but you get the feeling that there’s something else underneath that pass. Still, there’s worse ways to escape from a potential hive’s nest and you definitely got the better end of the stick than Lucien did whenever he had to bail from a mission. At least there hadn’t been any Goodyre horses to run you down into the dirt.

You depart from the Alchemist’s Guild just a few hours after noon, to return your purchases to Ellana’s room and to generally take a moment to take in the information and mull over it like one of your own concoctions. Claudia is the (adopted) daughter of Mengus Silvera, and she herself is her own accomplished alchemist in her own right, in spite of a predominantly male-only environment. Maybe it was nepotism or the fact that Silvera looked like he could go toe-to-toe with a bear, but no one seemed to even batter an eyelash at her freedom and brilliance at such a young age.

And if you’ve got nothing else tonight, then they’ve invited you over for dinner. You managed to make some excuse about your imaginary master, saying how he was a hermit, a borderline recluse who refused to see people and only treated you slightly better than a dog. Not too uncommon given how the vapor tends to get to people’s heads after a lifetime of fumigating and brewing, but an excuse that they accept as they still left the offer open to you.

Eventually, you find yourself Ellana’s room, setting your pack down on a nearby table, There, you start filtering through your purchases, gingerly setting aside the ingredients by intensity and power. And it’s just when you have a good rhythm going that a voice cuts you off from any more motion.

“Marcus?”

Ellana seems to be surprised to see you, but the man behind her isn’t. Urath raises his hands to his lips in the universal motion for “silence” and “Secret’s kept”, before bowing to your charge and leaving down the hallway.

You bow towards Ellana. “Yes, princess? How may I assist you?”

She close the door, walking over to the table to join you and your ingredients. “Marcus, where on earth did you go to get all this?”

“Alchemists’ Guild. Thanks to your uncle, Lord Pullman, I was able to replenish my depleted stocks. I was running perilously low in the wake of the Midbridge.”

(cont.)

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She holds up a package containing slennush mushrooms, sniffing it before making a face and setting it down with a drop. “Eeww! Marcus, that smells digusting!”
“Call it disgusting, but it makes a good animal poison. It’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“I don’t doubt that…” Here, Ellana visibly deflates, seemingly melancholic for an unknown reason. “Not that I would know. Mother says that alchemy is ‘unladylike’ and never lets me ask Ansell for him to teach me.”

You crack a smile. “The clerk who served me was female.”

“Really?” Her eyes are wide with amazement, as if she’s only heard of this happening for the first time in her life. Which she is, but then again, you know exactly what this kind of feeling is. “Marcus, that’s amazing! Can you take me to meet her?”

You wince, nearly blanching at how...explosive the fallout of that particular meeting would go. “Erm…not now. Because you know, two of our Crownguard are still missing, and the lords of the castle are battling with the Vascieli. Your sister would say the same thing.”

She pouts at that, but that quickly gives way as she reaches for a book in her own trunk. “I managed to sneak this out from our library back in Alnerwich,” She whispers, eyes flickering about the room to ensure that there are any other unseen conspirators. “Marcus, I can’t read some of the more…stranger names. Why are there two Iulian names before the right name itself?”

“Just the way the catalog system works,” you explain, glancing through the pages. It’s just a picture guide, with nothing else of any particular interest. “And you can blame the old Opranians prior to Aedric the Conqueror for being the first to separate class from genius.”

Maybe it’s a bit too much information at her age, but she shakes it off and leaps onto the bed with her book. “Marcus…if you’re not doing anything later today…” She fidgets slightly, both from embarrassment as well as restrained excitement. “I hope it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you to help me read through this book? I know how to read well enough, but…the science bits are very different from the fairy tale stories I’m used to hearing…”

>Get ready for your dinner with Silvere and Claudia.
>Teach the Princess some of the basics of botany.

Sleep now, more in the morning.

>>781091
>>Teach the Princess some of the basics of botany.

Might save her life

>>781091
>>Teach the Princess some of the basics of botany.

Booty later

>>781091
hmm, should we go to the dangerous and largely pointless meeting, or help a kid read?
>Teach the Princess some of the basics of botany.

Vaguely related, the city we're in isn't our destination, right? We're just stopping over here for a while? Cause if we're stuck here for a long period, we're going to need to be more careful in public now, with our face known to at least one powerful person.

>>781091
>“Eeww! Marcus, that smells digusting!”
That's not what she and her siblings were saying when they first arrived in town. In fact, weren't they rather thankful for it? I mean sure it was a concoction by then, but don't knock the shrooms.

>>781091 #
>>Teach the Princess some of the basics of botany.

>>781028
>Stuttering, easily flustered redhead is seduced as a means to an end.

Huh first Adrian, now Marcus.

>>781091
>Get ready for your dinner with Silvere and Claudia.
LET'S TELL THEM THE TRUTH GUYS

I am actually serious

>>781028
>Tell me, boy, where is your master? Who is your master? I would very much like to invite him to discuss theorems and formulae.
Kaz, how did he get past this question though? Because its a legitimate question that could lead to discovery.

>>781111
Yep. Alnerwich is still about another week or two's journey away from Montgomer, which is Lord Alistair von Roie's holdfast and territory.

>>781166
A mistake on my part, admittedly, but one that I can cover up with this explanation. Natural Slennush mushrooms are sweet and pleasant to smell. When they're processed and preserved for shipment, for example, by the Guild, then they start to smell.

>>781382
"...I'm afraid my master is indisposed. The journey has taken a toll on his body. While his spirit has not lost any of its luster, his body suffers from age and infirmity. One of the reasons why mint is on the list is to make a balm for his joints. Arthritic, you see..."

Writing...

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You smile. “Ansell will be pleased for you to take the initiative for your own education. But I doubt your mother or sister would find this…alternate avenue of knowledge to be of much use to you.”

The maintenance of plants is not uncommon as a noble pastime. When in season, the cultivating of hydrangeas and orchids is a practice that some nobles indulge in. But no matter how beautiful the flower or fragrant the aroma, the gardener’s job is one of subservience, of low station and menial labor. Breeding pretty flowers is one thing, but studying the common weeds that grew within the Empire is something else entirely.

But it does not seem to detract her. Ellana sniffs, turning her nose up in a gesture that only children and those of noble standing could afford to make. “Adrianna gossips in her free time, either with Bella or with her own maidservants. Mother creates needlework, ministers to our songbirds and…” She frowns, scratching the side of her head. “I think that’s all I’ve ever seen her do. But, Marcus, this is how I’m choosing to spend my free time.”

“Free time…” You exhale, gently taking the book from her hands. It’s only slightly bigger than the field book you borrowed from the Karthmire Archives, but it easily weighs three times as much. The pages between the covers are easily the thickness of a knife’s edge. “So you mean to say that you’re finished studying.”

It is not a question, but merely a statement of fact. You’ve no reason to doubt her words, but she still nods. “That’s right. I have reached the end of the chapter Magister Ansell told me to read in the history book by today.”

“And where would that be?”

“The Fall of the Crimson Tyrant.”

It’s hard to believe that this eight year old girl is the direct descendant of Maxwell Crowmond, down the family tree at little under two hundred years of warfare and bloodshed. From what you remember of your rudimentary history, Maxwell holds two epithets: Kingslayer and Crowntaker. Just as there were those to sing his praises for ridding Aderaveth of one of the bloodiest tyrants it had ever seen, so too are those who seethed at the usurpation of the throne. Doubtless both had their own spillover into the Succession Wars that came after.

Broad generalizations, of course, and it all comes from a commoner’s point of view and limited knowledge about the affair. But in spite of the divided opinion, there was still a territory to call Aderaveth at the end of the day. Albeit a smaller one given the successions of notable territories as Opran and Suthyae.

“If I were to test you,” You begin slowly, “How would your answers fair?”

“…most of them.” She declares only after a brief hesitation. “But probably more than you, Marcus.” Her smile turns cheeky. “Because we never made it to the Crimson Tyrant in our combined lessons with Ansell.”

…she has you there on that one.

(cont.)

You continue to muse on the book, running an errant finger over the leather covers before setting it down on the table. Ellana stands to the side, confusion giving way to understanding as you drag two of the chairs towards the center table.

Pulling at one of the chairs and gesturing with a flourished motion, you bow politely and smile. “Where do you want to start?”

Ellana struggles to vocalize the more complicated Iulian words, but takes to the subject of botany like a bird to the sky. What she lacks in more nuanced comprehension, she makes up for with a keen eye for intuition and attention to detail. You supplement her lesson with your own experiences, discussing which berries could be consumed without fear of indigestion,

That’s when you notice the pattern. Of the entire flora in the book that the two of you flip through, the catalysts for antidotes and countertoxins, healing slaves and tonics, are the plants she lingers on. Ingredients from folklore, the basic components of Panacea, and herbs best used to soothe burns and grievous injuries. And the look in her eyes, hawkish and sharp, shows a concentration that you’ve never seen her make before.

…it seems that is the course of action that she’s taken in response to Yaya’s “prophecy”.

On one hand, you’re still a little rankled by the fact that in spite of your words that morning, Ellana is still bothered by the words from the Ingulan seer. Not that you could blame her, considering how much she loves her family. And at eight years old, she isn’t emotionally ready to accept and process the weight of something like a death prophecy, no matter how bright of an intellect she has.

Still…you are glad that she’s not constantly fussing over it. Before you left for the Alchemists’ Guild, she had been smiling and talking with Klara and her siblings, though perhaps in a more subdued tone of voice than usual. She has not let it consume her, gave into paranoia as so many others would have in her place. It will constantly be at the back of her mind, but it will never come to fully drive her.

Be that as it may…she still has a long way to go before she would be mixing potions and tonics of her own accord. That is if her mother or sister allowed her to get close to the equipment for such brewing. But there are still things to learn about plants that do not require the need of an alchemy kit.

“For example,” You say, pointing towards a three-leafed plant, “Rashes caused by poison ivy can be countered with jewelweed. Not everything your gardeners throw away is useless…”

As the sun goes down under the Wrehlzwth Mountains, bathing the land in hues of red and orange, a princess and her Crownguard study botany in the confines of a fortress tower...

>Ellana sharply approves!

>Choose a focus for Ellana's Botany:
>Lifeguard: She can identify plants used for healing.
>Poisoner: She can identify plants used for poison.

>>784904
>>Poisoner: She can identify plants used for poison.
Knowing what and how poisons work is a good foundation for countering them

>>784904
>Lifeguard

>>784904
>Poisoner: She can identify plants used for poison

>>784904
>Lifeguard

>>784904
>>Lifeguard: She can identify plants used for healing.

We would definitely get in trouble for teaching her poisons.

>>784904
>Poisoner
If all else fails, we can make her our apprentice

>>784904
>Lifeguard: She can identify plants used for healing.
If she's going to accidentally find that one ingredient for Goddess' Tears that for some reason we never will, this is how.

>>784904
>>Lifeguard: She can identify plants used for healing.

>>784904
>>Lifeguard: She can identify plants used for healing.

was there no twitter notification?

>>784904
>Poisoner: She can identify plants used for poison

Kaz is kill

>>785939
Kaz told everyone he had a test tomorrow, he's not coming back tonight.

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>Lifeguard: Ellana can identify plants used for healing.
>+2 to Restoration

>> Your time with the Alchemists’ Guild has netted you with:
>> 7 Golden Aurums, 70 Silver Crowns, 372 Bronze Links

>>New Antidote/Poison Recipie(s):
> Foxglove’s Kiss (Debilitation, nonlethal, fast) [3 Ingredients, 2 Foxglove Extract]
> Spirit Water (Removes Mental Ailments, Enables 24-hour Specter’s Dream meditation) [5 Ingredients, 6 Feverfew Root]

>>Poison Components:
> 10 Echinacea Extract
> 10 Foxglove Extract
> 10 Feverfew Root
> 30 Ingredients
> 15 Slennush Mushrooms
> 6 Widow’s Tears

By the time darkness has truly settled over Alnerwich, the candles have burned out, and the only remnants left behind little wax stubs and ashen wicks. Ellana has fallen asleep, softly breathing into the page of notes she has been taking. She had only made it to the end of basic healing herbs before her fatigue caught the better of her.

It is with gentle hands that you lift her up from her chair to deposit her onto the bed, taking care not to wake her. She occasionally stirs, mumbling indecipherable words as her eyelids flutter in deep sleep, but she does not wake. You gently lay her to rest, pulling back the covers before settling the princess into bed. A contented sigh escapes from her mouth as she snuggles deeper into the covers, nestling herself comfortably into a down-stuffed pillow.

All is well.

You take a moment to clean up your impromptu workshop, repacking all your ingredients back into your alchemy kit. Bottles rattle in their straps and fluids slosh about in their containers as you meditate on the day’s events.

It was not a complete waste of time, and you got more out of the visit than you would have thought. A connection with someone close on the inside of the Guild was a goal you had in mind, but you never expected for your new friend to be someone highly ranked within the association. Let alone the Supervisor’s daughter. An admittedly moment where you thought you’d panic, but one that ultimately played itself out into your favor.

Still, they seem to have bought your story of the traveling Opranian, and are genuinely curious as to what you’d bring to the table of discussion. Claudia seemed impressed, and her father even more so. The status of honorary member has been conferred onto you, and the signet ring of the Alchemists’ Guild catches the moonlight from outside.

You look out the window, towards the town below. Save for a few taverns and brothels, Alnerwich has fallen asleep. Guards make the rounds, pale-orange lanterns bobbing through the muddy streets of the port town. From high above, they look little bigger than aphids or fireflies, insects that won’t be seen for another thirty or so days.

The night is young...

>Continue to decipher the Vascieli Journal (Unlock Recipes , ???)
>Find Archer and let him know what you’re investigating.
>Read through “The Botanical World of Kaithe” (Unlock Ingredients, ???)

>>794769
>>Find Archer and let him know what you’re investigating.
get down to work I suppose

>>794769
>Continue to decipher the Vascieli Journal (Unlock Recipes , ???)

Hey Kaz I love Emilia

>>794769
>Continue to decipher the Vascieli Journal (Unlock Recipes , ???)

>>794769
>Find Archer and let him know what you’re investigating
in case something happens to us it would be good if an ally knew to avenge our untimely demise.

>>794769
>>Find Archer and let him know what you’re investigating.

>>794791
Speak of Re: Zero
>>794769
Kaz you are going to rage at Subaru's confession at the end of the Anime,

>>794897
DON'T READ THIS KAZ HUGE SPOILERS I want to see his reaction when he finds out Rem gets erased

>>794938
He's gonna read that and be butthurt.

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>>794938
Writing...

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>Find Archer and let him know what you’re investigating.

Allanus and Adrianna share the room right next to Ellana’s, so it takes little effort for you to attract Archer’s attention. Standing guard in the hallway, he leans against a pillar, with closed eyes and a look of concentration on his face. They snap open as soon as you open the door, before giving way to a frown as you walk over to him.

He shifts in his position, maneuvering himself to have a view of all three rooms as you approach. “Everything fine?”

You nod. “More or less. Belated of me to ask, I know, but did anything out of the ordinary happen to Ellana while I was away?”

“Nothing. Your Princess remains cheerful, but slightly subdued. I blame the odor of Alnerwich.” His face contorts into a mock grimace of disgust. “Smells as bad as Karthmire.”

Considering the fact that Karthmire’s disposal system was little more than ditches in the side of the roads and an underground sewer in desperate need of maintenance, you can hardly fault him. Although when push comes to shove, you find the smell of fish guts to be more wholesome and palatable than shit and piss. At least with the fish, you can go about the day in the comfort that you’re not living in that bad of a shithole.

“And what about Allanus or Adrianna? How are they adjusting?”

He pauses, considering. “Well enough in current circumstances. Princess Adrianna speaks often with Lady Mazur, exchanging words over tea. And Prince Allanus studies his book, practicing magic when he thinks I am not looking. Yet…I do not believe that is why you ask me questions…”

“…that’s right,” You exhale, eyes flickering to the side to check for any unwelcome listeners. Aside from the draft in the hallway, there isn’t anyone you can sense or detect. It is just you and the Ingulan. “…keep this secret, alright? I went into town today…”

>You explained to Urath about the circumstances in the Alchemists’ Guild.

“…and then I’m back here,” You eventually conclude. “Silverow and Lupine are absent, so I thought that you’d be the best person to notify.”

Archer hums, clearing his throat as he reclines against his pillar. “You do not tell Lord Pullman?”

“…never occurred to me,” You admit. “Though…we do have Nightravens available, but I wouldn’t trust them to deliver something that could easily be intercepted. I’ll just have to wait until he returns from Silverstone.”

“In three to four days. The mines are large and their shafts go deep through the earth. Many hiding places for the Vashanol.” He looks like he’s about to spit, but thinks better of it and holds it in. “So, your situation sounds…complicated. But necessary. Very well. Do you need aid in days to come? This concerns Allanus as much as it does for Ellana. My bow is at your service."

>Yes.
>No.

>>795147
>>Yes.

>>795147
>>Yes.
I'm not really sure HOW he's going to help, but sure.

Let's not make him dress up as an old eccentric alchemist.

>>795184
It wouldn't work anyway.

>>766903
tweet

>>795286
Angelic blueberry

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You smile. “The gesture is welcome and your aid would be greatly appreciated. Though unless you have the ability to grow a beard and speak in semi-fluent Iulian…”

“Iu…Iou-leain?”

“Never mind. It wouldn’t work.”

He frowns. “Then how will I be of use? My bow can destroy a target from a great distance. In my youth, I would track Plainswalkers for days on end without fatigue or failure to hunt. A hunter I may have been raised and still remain, but you ask of something not within abilities. And to aid you would mean that the Crowmonds would go unprotected…”

Hmmm…

“I could use a tracker,” You slowly begin, “But your talents wouldn’t come until much later. I’ve only got four days, five at the most, to discover the discrepancy within the records. I still lack solid proof of collusion with rebel or enemy forces.”

“I am sure you will find it,” He points out. “But if you wish to trade places, then I see no problem. You protect royal family, I observe Alchemy Guild from high above tower.”

“Thank you. I greatly appreciate that. Though providing an explanation for why I’m absent for the day…”

He waves off your concern. “Palme’s orders are to protect royals in whatever way we can, yes? You are still following those orders. Though not in a way most would obviously see.”

…he’s got a point there.

“Alright, then. I accept. And I will be using that excuse of yours, so please give that to the Crowmonds when I'm out again tomorrow. Thank you. I’ll make sure to pay you back when the time comes.”

Here, he seems to look at you in a new light, the gears in his head churning at the weight of what you offer. Then, he frowns, almost grimacing before asking, “In town…did you see any bounties? A board of some sort near soldiers’ barracks? Wanted posters, odd jobs?”

Bounties? You shake your head that no, while you were in town, you did not find a bounty board.

The tension on his face dissipates, slipping back into a pleasant neutral. “…very well. Come back in a few hours. We will need to change guard positions then.”

>“…alright. Goodnight, Archer. See you in a few.” (Turn in for the night)
>“…what do you want with the bounty board?” (High Social Roll Required)
>Custom option.

>>795286
>>795305
...I'm never gonna live that down, aren't I?

>>795331
>“…alright. Goodnight, Archer. See you in a few.” (Turn in for the night)


>>795331
Nah you will read that spoiler.

>>795335
As a lawfag, I do an alright job of resisting temptation. Managed to stay unspoiled for Star Wars VII.

>>795331
>>“…alright. Goodnight, Archer. See you in a few.” (Turn in for the night)

Blue Berry deserved better

Never ever Kaz

>>795331
Not while I still draw breath.

Love the quest. It's obvious a lot of work has gone into the worldbuilding, the MC has a lot of character, and the supporting cast is great. Bellatrix best girl. I begin to suspect I may have a "thing" for redheaded swordswomen with unorthodox diets.

>>795331
>>“…alright. Goodnight, Archer. See you in a few.” (Turn in for the night)
As with what's her name the pasts of our coworkers are none of our business, same as ours is none of theirs.

>>795331
>“…alright. Goodnight, Archer. See you in a few.” (Turn in for the night)
no need to press. everyone deserves their privacy, lord knows we are pretty tight lipped about our own past.

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>>795359
Thank you. Fun fact, these were the notes of an abandoned DnD campaign I made with my friends, as well as a project for a Creative Writing class. Glad I'm still getting mileage out of it.

>Bellatrix is best girl. I begin to suspect I may have a "thing" for redheaded swordswomen with unorthodox diets.
>Pic definitely related

Writing...

>>795359
Princess and ded waifu best girls

>>795331
>“…alright. Goodnight, Archer. See you in a few.” (Turn in for the night)

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“We all have our skeletons, our daggers to bury.”

Everyone on the Crownguard has something to hide. You yourself and your past are no different from Silverow and his little issues, Bellatrix and her crimson eyes, and now Urath and his apparent fixation on bounties. Doubtless they all have their own reasons to hide their pasts. Still, Plame or his predecessor found them eligible just as he did you to serve as the last line of defense for the Crowmond family.

The Crownguard is a second chance for all, it seems.

You nod. “Good night, Archer. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He returns your farewell with a slow incline of his head, still maintaining that unreadable calm. Yet his eyes speak a different story. Of all the myriad emotions you can see across his face, it is that of gratitude that stands out above the rest.

>Urath approves!

With the little time you have left on your hands, you return to Ellana’s room, entering the Specter’s Dream by the foot of her bed. You do not resist the pull of the void as unseen hands tug at your consciousness, the feeling of your all your senses save for one shutting off at random intervals. In the four hours that you have before Urath comes to switch, you receive the benefits of a normal rest, without losing the ability to detect the presence of others.

And when the Ingulan softly knocks on the door, you pull yourself out of the trance, the full range of your senses surging back to life. Stretching a few kinks in your muscles, you relieve Urath and take up a guardian’s position in the hallway. Back pressed against a pillar and eyes trained on the two doors with occupants, an enemy would be hard pressed to get the jump on you.

…Silvera was an exception. You think that he used a secret passage to get into the library without you noticing.

And that just opens a whole new can of complications in your investigation into the Alchemists’ Guild.

>>Winter 56, 238 ACR

“Painel…will you be going out again today?”

You pause administering a bit of butter to a sweet roll, turning to face the direction of the voice that addressed you. Across the dining table, Ellana cocks her head in surprise at Adrianna’s inquiry, who frowns slightly at the look her sister gives her.

“I believe so, milady,” You answer back, taking a bite out of the pastry. A little bit too much sugar, but not completely unappealing. “I have business to take care of…”

“Business…” The eldest princess raises her brow in a gesture of bewildered inquiry, as if she cannot believe what she is hearing. “What kind of business would require a Crownguard to take leave of his post for another day?”

>Alchemical reasons.
>Crownguard reasons.
>Orders of the Empress.
>Custom option.

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>>795576
>>Crownguard reasons.
"If I do it right, you'll never hear about it. If I don't, well, you will."

>>795468
I'm so sorry, it's just that I can't help myself. I think about that flame-hued hair, and my fingers, oh, they sing, and what salacious tunes they are.../s?

>>795576
>>Crownguard reasons.

>>795576
>>Crownguard reasons.
Just doing some preventative maintenance.

>>795576
>Crownguard reasons.
Preventatives, contingencies, and just a little bit of research into the local situation.

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“Crownguard reasons,” You explain, keeping it brief and succinct for everyone’s sakes. Allanus seems to be too sleepy to do anything than shove food into his mouth with the methodical slowness of a turtle, but it’s Klara that tries to feign disinterest. Perhaps it’s idle curiosity, maybe something more. But the fact remains that you’ve a secret to keep. “I’m just taking care of some preventative maintenance.”

Dubiousness gives way to confusion. “What does that even mean?”

You smile. “You won’t have to worry about anything. It’s just a little research into the local situation. I might even come back for lunch.”

With Adrianna tentatively going back to her breakfast, Ellana whispers into your ear. “I thought you already got all your alchemy supplies…”

“…it’s just a courtesy call I have to pay, from one student of the sciences to another. Fostering a learning environment, just like Ansell’s quiet little library. Only between people who make things explode instead of copying down words onto vellum.”

>>Alnerwich

It had froze over last night, and the worst of the muddy slush and meltwater has turned into ice. The road through Alnerwich remains safe to traverse for those without horses so as long as they kept to the edges of the road. Those with donkeys and beasts of burden are not so lucky.

The walk takes you the better part of thirty minutes to make it to the entrance of the Guild, where you flash the Signet Ring on your finger at the surprised clerk. He doesn’t scowl as much as he looks disappointed for not being able to rip you off again. With an irritated wave, he lets you through the gates, and the guards once more step by to let you pass.

Only this time, you get to take an alternative route, making a right from the antechamber that leads to area for customer reception. Now in the Guild Members’ area proper, the entrance of which is a long hallway with more turns and curves than a hedge maze, you have enough privilege and freedom to carry yourself as if you were an acolyte.

Which is to say that your available areas of clearance are limited. Not that ruling would stop an active effort to break into forbidden zones.

But that comes later.

>Visit Claudia laboratory.
>Visit Silvera's laboratory.

>>795621
...better add some more Bellatrix scenes, it seems...

>>795739
>>Visit Claudia laboratory.

>>795739
*Claudia's Laboratory

Fuck typos. Fuck them all up the ass.

>>795739
>Visit Silvera's laboratory.
do it, do it, do it

>>795739
>Visit Claudia laboratory.

Hey Kaz, your mom is a nurse right?

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>>795785

>>795802
It's okay Kaz. I'm sure the anon just wants to follow you home and start a loving relationship.

>>795809
Not yet anon, I can wait. I'm not first in line after all. That bitch who asked him to prom is.

>>795834
So get rid of her anon. That was Senpai can be all yours.

>>795846
It's in the works. Meanwhile, I need to get Kaz-kun some Chopin and Stravinsky.

>>795864
You're the same dude awhile back that knew where he lived to some extent.

Do you guys go the same high school or something and you were just able to figure shit out through osmosis during the threads?

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It doesn’t take you too long to find Claudia’s laboratory. You simply retrace your steps back the way you came from the day prior, a feat that’s an exercise in simplicity. Within a few moments, you’ve found yourself standing at the rear entrance of her laboratory, where only members of the guild can enter and exit. Raising a gauntleted fist, you gently knock on the door, rapping the reinforced wood with the brass of your knuckleguard.

There is a brief noise from the room, and a set of muffled footsteps across cold stone that come behind the door. The lock disengages with an audible click, and the mildly irritated face of Claudia Hildegard peers out from the crack in the door. “I told you that I was not to be disturbed-”

Once again, you let the role of “Amadeo the Alchemist” slip across your face. “But, Claudia,” Your voice purrs even as her complaint cuts itself off in a choked noise. “Do you not remember the events of the day prior? Your father gave me this ring himself, and I wore it proudly for all to see. Perhaps…some may get the wrong idea about the two of us. But, I do not think you would be too bothered by that. After all, you yourself said that I had your…explicit permission to come in. Whenever. I. Wanted…”

The indignation on her face swiftly turns mortified embarrassment. “Am-am-amadeo?” Her voice is now little more than a squeak.

You smile. “And good morning to you as well. May the Radiant God shine His light upon your brow.”

The alchemist stammers for another few seconds, her face progressively growing a deeper shade of red, before she slams the door in your face. The resultant BOOM sends a wind to tousle your hair, and alchemists down the hall turn their heads at the source of the noise. You give her two seconds before you start chortling, barely holding in your laughter. And the best part is that you’re not even feigning your own amusement.

Then the door opens once more, and a hand quickly pulls you into the room. You comply with the gesture, light on your feet as you follow the direction of the pull. “My, my…you’re being quite aggressive…”

She spins you around, effectively depositing you on a nearby chair in the room before frantically pacing back and forward. Once she seems to get a hold of herself, she turns towards you and points an accusing finger at you.

“You’re…you’re…you’re…you’re here too early!” She hisses past her embarrassment. “I wasn’t ready for…for anyone to show up beyond...el-el-eleven o’clock!”

You raise your hands in a gesture of recalcitrance. “I had to make up for missing last night’s dinner, as I had to administer my master his medicine. Do not worry. I am not infected with what ails him. His lungs are not the best after so many years fumigating chemicals, and the cold environment of your country does little to help him."

(cont.)