Brewing Bad Ch. 31-36 (Patreon)

Ch. 31 - An Offer You Can Refuse

No one argued with that, and all the different factions squeezed out the side of the inn through the hole that the Whisperers had left behind. It was a large, thin crack that was so big that Lucas barely had to duck. The Brass knights struggled a little in their armor, but Hura’gh was really the only one that had problems, at least until he use brute strength to widen the crack a little bit. 

That sudden display of strength was enough to make the roof sag a little, but Lucas wasn’t worried about that. As much as he’d love to pay for the damages, he wasn’t sticking around long enough for anyone to describe him to the guards. Hopefully, the elves had a few coins between them to give to the innkeeper for his trouble, and if not, well, their fancy little crossbows would certainly sell for more than a few silver kings to the right buyer. 

One short run later, they were all mounting their horses and heading in different directions as it quickly became every man for himself. Hura’gh had tried to take the Whisperer’s horses with them, arguing, “The mare at least will fetch a good price. A handful of dragons at least,” but Lucas shot it down.

“Did you see the same thing I saw, man?” Lucas chided him. “Those bitches had a scroll, and all the rumors say that gang is in league with mages, if not mages themselves!”

“Mages have better things to do than join Lordanian factions and fight for territory,” Hura’gh answered skeptically. 

“Yeah,” probably, Lucas said, realizing the big lug made a good point. “But that doesn’t mean they can't hire someone to track us down by their horses. Hell - maybe this is how they wanted this whole meet to play out. I say we don’t fuck around where they are concerned. Not even a little.”

“You’re really going to throw away dragons just because of a what-if?” the half-orc asked. “It’s money in the hand, practically.”

“Yeah, I am,” Lucas said with a shrug, “and to be honest, it's something I should do more often.”

With that, he spurred his horse and started riding down the road. He didn’t go too fast, though, both because he didn’t care much for riding, and because if he did, there was no way that Hura’gh would be able to catch him before the big half-orc’s mount keeled over from a heart attack. 

A few minutes later, when they were well clear of The Fiddler’s Rest, and had turned off onto a side road, they slowed down so they could discuss the night's events. Both of them had considered violence to be a possibility, but neither one had expected a poisoned fusillade or magic to be a factor in the whole thing. It was crazy. 

“Whose offer will we take,” Hura’gh asked, finally. “If they are still good, I mean?”

“Why wouldn’t they still be good?” Lucas asked. “You think those guys don’t want to make some money? More importantly, you think they don’t want to keep their rivals from making money?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care about all that,” Hura’gh said with a shrug. “The way I see it, just want to know who wants to pay the most, you know? They’re all scumbags, but with enough dragons, I could pretend to like 'em.”

Lucas spent the next couple minutes explaining how all the deals compared, and the little tricks they tried, while the half-orc listened. When it was all said and done he expected the warrior to comment on the Whisperers offer, but instead he just said, “A hundred crows is a lot of credit. You could spend a couple nights with one of the beauties on Lavender Lane for that kind of scratch.”

“Hura’gh, do I look like the kind of guy that would have to pay for it?” Lucas asked with a smirk. 

“Honestly, yeah,” the half-orc answered before he burst out laughing. “No offense, man, but my nose has been broken a dozen times, and I’m still prettier than you.”

Lucas nodded, playing it off with a wisecrack or two, but he couldn’t deny that Hura’gh’s words had stung. He definitely wasn’t the prettiest on Earth, but the half-orcs comment certainly reminded him that he was as far from handsome as he’d ever been these days. 

Fortunately, the very last thing he was looking for was someone to keep his bed warm at night. Despite that, the last thing he was planning to do was accept the Red Lantern Gang’s offer. Maybe he’d change his mind after he’d unlocked the secret of margaritas and gone straight, but until then, he was focused exclusively on stacking coins. 

The ride back to longer than Lucas would have thought, but taking the back way got them lost more than once, and by the time they arrived back at the cider house sometime after midnight, he was beat, and only Kar’gandin was still awake and waiting for them. 

He was sitting on the porch with a pipe in hand. “How’d it go,” Kar’gandin asked as soon as they rode up. 

“We’re going to sell to the Whisperers,” Hura’gh said with a toothy grin before Lucas could respond. 

“The hell we are,” Lucas shot back. “Getting into bed with those bitches is a bad idea.”

“The Whisperers?” Kar’gandin asked. “The Back Alley Whisperers? By Grandfather’s great axe, who was daft enough to invite them?”

Hura’gh pointed at Lucas, and for a moment, the dwarf looked back and forth between the two of them in shock. “What? When? Why would you do that, me boy?” Kar’gandin asked. 

“First of all, I didn’t,” Lucas said, “and second, I couldn’t. I haven’t even been to Lordanin in weeks. How the hell would I contact those creepy bastards?”

“He… You did to the Fiddle, Lucas,” Hura’gh chided him. “I was there, remember.”

“That’s not what he’s talking about, asshole,” Lucas shot back. “Yes, when they met us at the crow cages, I invited them, but only because it was the least worst outcome. I have no freaking clue how they heard we were meeting or who it was that told them, got it?”

“Oh,” the dwarf and the half-orc said in unison as one misconception was removed from the board, and the three of them were pulled back into alignment. 

“So what was their offer, then?” Kar’gandin asked. \

“One silver king more than our next best offer,” Lucas said, reaching into his pocket and handing the dwarf the slips.

“Not worth it,” the dwarf answered, shaking his head. “Not worth the complications.”

“Definitely not worth it,” Lucas agreed. 

“So then, who’s going to be our partner in crime for the foreseeable future?” the dwarf asked. “The Brass Knights offered the most, and they’ve got some good territory along high street, and all through the east quarter.”

“Well, that would be my bet,” Lucas nodded, “But I still feel like we could get more if we were to fuck with them a little and maybe tell them we were going to go with someone else like the Butchers or something. I mean, I did save one of their lives; they owe me.”

“Ye saved one of their…slow down, lad,” the dwarf said, slamming on the brakes to the conversation. “This was supposed to be a straightforward tasting. Don’t tell me that Whisperers attacked ye?”

“Naw,” Hura’gh answered. “Those cowards fled with a scroll as soon as the slants tried to kill us.”

“Slants? Scrolls?” the dwarf cried out, “If someone doesn’t start telling me what happened, and soon, I’m going to have to slam both yer heads together until all the pieces of this insane story come tumblin’ out. Do ye hear me?” 

Lucas felt a little bad when he realized that he’d forgotten to mention the most important part of the whole night because he’d been so aggravated at Hura’gh’s accusation that he’d been the one to bring uninvited guests to the party. So, he spent a few minutes going through every last detail, from the moment weapons were drawn to the moment that they’d fled the scene, and when it was all over, Kar’gandin nodded. “Aye, ye handled that about as well as one could ask for. Bad things can happen - that's why I said ye should take Hura’gh with ye.”

“So he could bring antidotes for other people and not for me?” the half-orc laughed. “I see how it is - little humans sticking together.”

“You think those were for anyone but you after the run-in with the spider? Asshole.” Lucas sighed. Sometimes, Hura’gh seemed so close to getting it, and the rest of the time, he was somewhere off in left field. 

There were only a handful of people in this world he could probably trust, and he wasn’t going to let one of them get killed just because he forgot to bring the right shit ever again. That would be such a waste. 

They chatted a little longer, but after they’d decided the Knights of Brass would be their best bet, the three of them joined Adin in slumber. In the morning, it was decided that since Lucas would be the one to smuggle the shit into town. 

“Why me?” Lucas asked over breakfast, even if he already knew. “I was going to start mixing up some mana potions.” He might understand why he was the best choice, but he still hated it.

Breakfast wasn’t the fanciest meal for them, but every morning, a servant brought out a big pot of steaming porridge or oatmeal and some sausage or bacon to go with it. It was simple fare, but it was usually pretty good. Word was that the cook really appreciated the sudden increase in the finances of house Parin, but other than Adin’s sister and her butler, he didn’t really talk to anyone from the big house.  

“Because the bloke on the poster ain’t ye, and because ye got a relationship with the client now,” Kar’gandin said with a smile before devouring the slab of bacon off the chipped plate in front of him. 

Everyone laughed at that, even Adin, who had no idea what the joke was even supposed to be, making Lucas scowl. “Alright,” he agreed, “But when I get back, I better be drowning in fucking Mushrooms, Adin, you got that? Piles of them, sorted nice and neat and ready for me to work on tomorrow, and if you and Hura’gh run into any goblins, I want those fucking livers, too, alright?”

Adin nodded, but his heart really did seem in it until Lucas’s admonition, “Because there’s no more blue until we cook, and I ain't doing that until I have enough of the shit to be worth my time; you got it?”

That got the noble’s attention, and he nodded once as his eyes focused. After that, all that was left to do was figure out how they were going to smuggle the blue into the city, but his dwarven friend already had that figured out, too. 

While Lucas had been cooking, Kar’gandin had been scheming, and he’d had his cousin whip up a keg built to hold another smaller keg and a few gallons of cider in case someone decided to tap it at the front gate. It even had a tax stamp that Lucas was quite sure no one had ever paid. 

“So what, I just walk in there with this tied to the back of a mule and walk up to the first Brass balled motherfucker I find?” Lucas asked. “Don’t you think we should - you know, send some correspondence and arrange a meet or something?”

“Nah,” Kar’gandin said with a frown. “First, you’re going to go put on a servant’s livery, so you look more like a house Parin flunky, and then you’re going to walk your keg of delicious cider over to the small courtyard just north of the Street of Hammers.”

“So dress like a tool and go to the place full of tools,” Lucas agreed with a smirk. “Got it.”

Ch. 32 - Running Errands

They argued a little longer about whether or not it was a trap. Lucas was of the opinion that even if the city guard didn’t get him, the Brass Knights still might. But Kar’gandin disagreed mightly on that front. “One of the reasons I think these are the right boys to do the business with is because they cling to their honor like some gaudy decoration. If they decide to murder us, they’ll send a bloody declaration of war about it first. It’s the silliest shite ye ever did see.”

Lucas had heard similar things before, but still, he was unconvinced. Before he left their little hideout, he dug through his growing stash of potions for a few that he might want, just in case he ran into trouble. A healing and antidote potion were a must, of course, but he grabbed a few other odds and ends, too, just in case. 

While he didn’t disagree with the dwarf’s assessment that he was the least likely to be caught, that chance wasn’t zero exactly, and he was painfully aware of that fact. Lucas dwelled on those ideas as he walked to the main house and asked Gerwin for a servant’s uniform he could borrow. 

The butler looked at him stiffly and said, “I trust you’ll be returning it in good condition then? No mysterious stains, blood or otherwise?”

“Me? Why, I would never.” Lucas said with a sarcastic smirk. 

It was clear to him that the manservant didn’t care for him much, but it was also clear to Lucas that the man liked him more than his mistress’s brother, so on the whole he took their uneasy relationship in stride. He probably wouldn’t like it if a bunch of criminals started cooking up product in his backyard, either.

“I’m sure I have something in your size you can borrow then,” the older man said as he walked through one of the servant's doors into the narrow side passages that threaded through the house. 

The clothes that Lucas wore normally had seen better days, and though he washed them as often as he was able in the stream, they were looking pretty rough. They’d definitely mark him as a troublemaker to the guards. The clothes that Gerwin provided him, by contrast, were much nicer, even if they were just black slacks and a white button down shirt that had been bleached within an inch of its life until it was still and scratchy. 

The old man escorted him to a small privy so that Lucas could get changed, but when he saw that the large wooden tub was full of water, he decided to give himself a quick scrub with a bar of harsh soap. The water was tepid, and if he’d planned things better, he certainly would have arranged to have some warm water brought, but it wasn’t frigid river water. That made the whole thing good enough to overlook the fact that this was almost certainly someone else’s dirty bathwater, even if it looked pretty clean to him. 

“God, I miss running water,” he sighed as he rinsed off and toweled dry. “My bar is definitely going to have a hot shower and a flush toilet, I swear to god. It doesn’t matter how much money I need to make.”

He kept grumbling as he started to get dressed, and after getting his pants on, he stopped to take a look at himself in the mirror. His patchy stubble was threatening to become a full-blown beard, and he desperately felt the need to shave, but since it made such a good disguise, that could wait until after his trip into the city. Honestly, he barely recognized himself. 

When he heard a knock as he was putting on his extra scratchy shirt, he yelled, “Come in” without thinking.

That brought him unexpectedly eye-to-eye with Danaria, who opened the door. “Oh, Lucas, I’m glad I caught you. I heard from my maidservant that you were going into town today, and I…”

Her words trailed off as her mind seemed to lock up, and for a moment, Lucas wasn’t sure what happened. It only occurred to him when her face started to redden, and she suddenly turned away that it was because his shirt was off. 

“B-but you’re not decent,” she stammered.

“Guilty,” he agreed with a chuckle. “But seriously, it’s fine. It's just a shirt; you guys need to learn to relax about this stuff.”

“Relax?” she asked, horrified, “You… you… how would you react if you were to come into a room and see me shirtless, mister Sharpe?”

Lucas didn’t answer with the first thought that came to his mind or even the second. In fact, he wasn’t able to work out an answer that had the proper decorum before she noticed the lewd smile on his face. That was enough to make her sigh heavily and turn around to face the hall as her blush deepened. 

“And to think I was just coming in to wish you well and ask if you might be free when you return,” she said, talking quickly. “And instead, I have to face this… depravity.”

“Depravity?” Lucas chuckled. “Denaria, I’ve seen depravity and can assure you that… no, you know what? Never mind. What did you need me for anyway?”

“Need you?” she asked, confused before she finally put everything together. “Oh, my brother said that you might be attending some of the balls this season and that we would have to fetch the tailor and engage in some dance lessons. I was just wondering when you wanted to do that and thought we might have tea and discuss some appointments.”

“Uhuh,” Lucas said as he did up the last button. Well, the last button he planned on buttoning. He was going to leave the last one undone so he could breathe. Adin hadn’t mentioned anything about this to Lucas in the last couple of days, but long term, that was definitely the plan. “Sure, let’s work on the details after I go into the city. I have a delivery to make.”

Danaria peaked to see if he was decent yet, and when she saw he was, she turned around and smiled at that. “Excellent. That’s good to hear,” she said, pausing for a moment as she looked like she was about to shake his hand with her white, lacy gloves. Instead, she took a step back, and continued, “Well, you be safe then, and I’ll see you later.” Then she was gone, like a skittish deer. 

Lucas had to force himself not to laugh at that reaction. Instead, he tugged on his boots, took one more look at his shaggy hair in the poor-quality mirror, and headed back to fetch his cargo. 

I’m never going to look like a noble at this rate, he thought with a smirk. Adin and Danaria are going to have their work cut out for them. 

By the time he returned to the cider house, the donkey was loaded up and waiting for him. “Looking Sharp for a human!” Hura’gh said as Lucas approached. 

“Whatever, man,” Lucas responded. 

That wasn’t enough to dissuade his friends, though. “Nay, lad, ye clean up well - maybe we’ll be able to attract a higher tier of clientele sooner than we would have thought.”

“Yeah, well, before we worry about that, how about we worry about finding someone to make these deliveries because I really don't want to be going to Lordanin too often as long as there’s still a price on our heads, Kar’gandin,” Lucas answered as he grabbed the lead of the animal. 

“Aye,” the dwarf agreed. “We need to work on that too, but more members of our little club means more chances for cheats and traitors.”

Lucas nodded at that, but said nothing as he started walking back toward the main house, and beyond it, to the road that lead to Lordanin. On the main roads, he had nothing to fear but the guards. This close to civilization the only monsters lurked deep inside the Greenwood, and this close to the city there was no such thing as bandits.

Instead, the only things that barred his way were the outlying villages that grew steadily larger as he got closer to the walls of the city. The Parin household was close to Meadowin, which was only barely large enough to have a greengrocer and a few small shops. There were two other villages he passed through on the way to the east gate whose names he hadn’t bothered to learn yet.

So, he enjoyed the sunshine and led his mule down the road toward the east gate while he whistled a little tune and tried to tamp down his nagging worries. No, he reminded himself, I couldn’t bring Kar’gandin or Hura’gh with me. Two or three people off the same wanted poster would look a lot more suspicious than a single guy with a donkey.

As it worked out, though, he had nothing to worry about. No one even tried to stop him. Only one of the gate guards gave him the barest of glances before the man’s dull eyes slid off Lucas, looking for someone better to harass. Because I look like I belong, he thought to himself as he walked through the gates. Because I fucking do. This is my town. Well, at the rate we’re making money, it will be someday, anyway.

Those were his thoughts as he made is way to the street of hammers, on the far side of the foundry district. Lordanin was a big place. It was big enough to get lost in, but more importantly, it was big enough that it was hard to be found in, and as he walked through it dodging traffic and the occasional third story resident emptying their chamber pot into the stinking gutters, he found himself thinking about money. 

If things went smooth with the Knights of Brass, then Lucas and his growing gang might have forty dragons a week flowing into their coffers sooner rather than later. Even after operating costs and a four way split, that was still a year’s worth of money every week. They were going to have to think bigger than better equipment and fancy clothes if they wanted to put all of that to better use. 

Well, it wouldn’t be enough to start construction on the bar of his dreams tomorrow, but they could probably start buying shell companies and maybe consider moving their operations into the city if they really wanted to. What would make the most sense, though? An alchemist shop would be noticed, but maybe a cooper or a glassblower would work instead? 

The dwarf was still hard at work on making a kiln that would be big enough to bake a couple dozen clay potion vials at a time, For now their biggest cost was buying glass vials, and fantasy worlds hadn’t invented the technology of buying in bulk yet, unfortunately.

Lucas heard the street of hammers long before he saw it. He’d woven around the Gray Bottom district just in case, but it hadn’t taken too much longer. Soon enough, he was surrounded by smiths, all working on armor or blades. That was probably a good business, too, but they didn’t really need to buy weapons in bulk. Not yet, anyway. 

Lucas kept going until he found the small courtyard off the street. It was ironically named because the place was quite large and set aside for duels and testing their brand-new weapons. Here was in the heart of someone else's power, and he was well aware that the average brass knight could kick the shit out of him. They were big dudes that knew how to use weapons. 

Even more important than that, Lucas kept any worry or concern off his face. People like this… like him, could smell fear and weakness, so he strolled in like he didn’t have a care in the world, and as soon as he found a man wearing the brass broach of the knights on his cloak at the entrance to the courtyard, he said, “Hey man, I’m here to talk to your boss,” with a shit-eating grin that practically dared the other man to try something.

Ch. 33 - If Anything Should Happen

“Who are you, and why would Sir Virgil waste his time on a skinny little pissant like you?” the man sneered, but Lucas only responded by smiling a little wider for a long moment. 

When the man opened his mouth to speak again, Lucas finally answered. “Special delivery. Just let him know it's what we discussed last night, and he’ll know what you’re talking about.”

The man looked Lucas up and down before he said, “Sounds like someone else could handle it. You sure you want me to bother the boss with this? If he never heard of your delivery, it won’t just be me kicking your ass, you know that, right?”

Lucas shrugged, and said, “Hey, I’m just the delivery guy. You want me to go home, you can be the one to explain to the man why he’s out the dragons, not me.”

The guard’s eyes squinted a bit, and he grunted, “Wait right here,” before walking off toward the other side of the small courtyard. 

Now that the big man was out of the way, Lucas could actually get a view of the place. It was a large open space surrounded by two and three-story tall buildings. A number of armed and armored men sat in the shade while a couple dueled on the sands of the place with more than a few spectators. 

Some of the fighters used wooden weapons for fierce sparring, but others used steel for the practice of more formal-looking forms. It was all pretty interesting and probably something he should start practicing himself at some point after he was on good terms with these dudes. 

All in all, it was a nice atmosphere, not so different from a gym, but those hadn’t been invented yet. More than half of the people here wore the orange of the gang, but without the ink he was used to those types sporting, they seemed like average mercenaries and the like. Honestly, if you added a sports bar and the background sound of some Harleys, this would have seemed like a motorcycle club to him. That much made sense to him, at least, since those dudes were notorious drug smugglers and gun runners. 

Lucas hadn’t heard much about the Knights of Brass besides the fact that they tended to think more with their swords than with their heads. He could work with that, though. Simple men, motivated by money. Those were the least likely to betray you as long as business stayed sweet. 

He stood there looking like he was watching the fighting, even as his eyes followed the guard that had gone to deliver his message. The man walked to the far end of the courtyard where it was most crowded, and when he got there, he waited deferentially until the older man that sat on a wooden bench surrounded by a crowd of hanger’s on. Once the boss was free, there were a few words exchanged, and the men looked over at Lucas while he pretended not to notice. 

After that, the guard returned and said, “The boss will see you after all, little man. Looks like you’ve got friends in high places.”

Lucas said nothing and moved to walk past him with the donkey, but the guard grabbed the lead, preventing it. “No animals in the courtyard. They foul the sand. I’ll take it to the stables for you until your business is concluded.”

“But my cargo—” Lucas protested. 

“Will be very safe with us,” the guard continued. “You can consider it to be delivered. Now, it's all just a matter of payment and paying respects.”

“I see,” Lucas answered skeptically. “Well, just remember that what you want is in the small barrel inside the larger one. Be careful removing it, or I’ll have to charge you for both.”

The guard smiled dismissively and then led the animal away, leaving Lucas free to enter. He gave the donkey one last look, trying to decide if he was being tricked or not, but in the end, he decided to go with it. If they fucked him over, he’d just sell them a keg of blue food coloring next time to make up the losses. 

They didn’t, though. Instead, when he reached the far end of the courtyard, he was warmly welcomed by the man and charge who stood and shook Lucas’s hand in a painfully tight grip. “Welcome,” he said loudly as a couple of his lieutenants moved and made room for Lucas to sit. 

The leader of the Knights of Brass was an imposing fellow. He was neither the largest nor the most muscular, and with his steel gray hair you might be forgiven for thinking that the man was passed his prime. All it took was one look into his eyes from up close and Lucas knew he was killer. 

That wasn’t the only tell, of course. The way he carried himself, the difference of the strong men around him, and of course, the man’s armor which was both expensive and well-used, all told the story of a man who was not to be fucked with. Lucas decided to set aside the idea of squeezing a few extra coins from him just now before they’d exchanged a word. That simply wasn’t how you dealt with people like this. He had no intention of rolling over. 

“We weren’t sure exactly when to expect you, but my men said you acquitted yourself well in last night’s melee. Charged right toward the enemy without any regard for poison. Very impressive.”

“Fucking slants,” one of the other men growled, but Lucas ignored him. 

“Hey, I don’t want anyone ruining a get-together if I called it in the first place,” Lucas said. “It makes mee… my boss look bad, you know?”

“Indeed,” Sir Tristen said. “If one of our men had been maimed or killed under the auspices of a parlay, you’d owe more than a blood debt.” Everyone nodded at that. 

“Well, all’s well that end’s well,” Lucas nodded. “How’s Ritchie?”

“Already practically healed,” the knight nodded. “We might want to invest in more than just your blue if you can offer us a good price on healing aids of that caliber.”

Lucas recognized that as flattery immediately. Though he was sure that men like this could always use a healing potion or two, the stuff he’d made was nothing special. It was called lesser for a reason. 

Before he could figure out what to say, though, the man gestured, and a young man came running over with a bag of coins that jingled just about right. He quickly handed it to the knight and then vanished from the meeting again, leaving the grown-ups to talk business. 

It probably wasn’t fair to call the lad a kid, though. He was probably a squire or something, and they obviously had him working out like a dog because he obviously had more muscles than Lucas.

“Go on, count it,” Sir Tristin said as he handed Lucas the small leather coin purse. “New partnerships should be scrutinized. Trust can come later.”

Lucas didn’t hesitate. He’d seen dealers try to make that bluff to shame you into not counting before, but he always counted. Inside were twenty dragons, exactly as advertised. None of them seemed fake. Lucas counted them, chose one at random, bit it, and then, satisfied, returned them to the pouch and tucked that away in the shoulder bag with his potions. 

“Looks good to me,” he nodded, “So if there’s nothing else…”

“Leaving so quickly?” the knight asked. “Don’t you want to stay and watch the fights? No better place to find muscle if you’re looking for someone to keep you safe.”

“Well, I have that covered, with—” Lucas started to answer. 

“Yes, the half-orc,” Sir Tristin nodded. “But those… creatures are beasts as much as men. As your little organization grows, you might find that you need something more… biddable and loyal.”

“Well, I don’t imagine that the men I see are going to be more loyal to me than they are to say… you,” Lucas said, making the assembled men laugh. 

“Not everyone here works for me, though most want to,” Sir Tristen agreed. “Still, there are plenty that would be happy for any steady work as long as they got the chance to crack some skulls occasionally. If none of them are to your liking, though, then you could always hire my friends and I to protect your interests.” 

“I imagine you’d want to be paid for that protection, too,” Lucas said while his mind raced. 

This was exactly the sort of hard sell he expected. The Knights of Brass might honor the letter of their agreement, but they were clearly the stronger party here and where strength was involved. People tend to push. 

“Of course,” the leader of the Knights of Brass said with a predatory smile, looking every inch the leader of a gang of some notoriety just then. “Why? You don’t think we’re worth the money? Everyone needs protection, especially in your line of work. Running alchemy labs can be very dangerous… All those volatile chemicals…”

“I’m not sure we really need—” Lucas started to say.

“You’re just becoming a very important partner of ours,” Sir Tristen continued. “That’s a nice product you got there; it would be a shame if something were to happen to it.” He said the words with a tone of sorrow, but there was no mistaking it for anything but a threat. 

“For a mere five dragons a month, you could have a veritable army at your beck and call, ready to keep you, your property, and even your loved ones safe,” the Gang leader said, smoothly easing toward the end of what was obviously a well-practiced pitch. “No one would dare try to cross you with the Knights of Brass at your back.”

“Five dragons is a lot… for an outfit of our size, I mean,” Lucas said, hastily adding the last bit when he realized the other man would twist his words into an insult about how they weren’t worth it if he didn’t. “I mean, I’d be happy to pay for services rendered if we need it, but right now everything's…”

“Clients typically don’t have much money when the trouble starts,” the knight said, obviously growing a little annoyed. “We find it best to make regular payments as soon as possible to make sure we can be there when you need us. You know - a sort of insurance.”

“Everyone needs insurance,” Lucas agreed, tensing up. This was worse than being cheated out of a couple coins. If this group sensed weakness, they’d swallow their outfit whole. Suddenly, he found himself wishing that Kar’gandin was here to help him talk his way out of this. 

What would the dwarf do to try to chisel his way out of this,  Lucas wondered. 

He’d find a way to beat them at their own game. That’s what he’d do, he realized with certainty, but how? These guys spent every day training with swords, and he was only decent with his daggers.

He realized there was no way that he could win, but as he looked into the smug face of the gang’s aging leader, he suddenly realized that didn’t matter. If the game was rigged he had to cheat, or play a new game. Something that would allow his speed and cleverness to matter more than the man’s skill and armor. 

Just as Sir Tristian opened his mouth, Lucas started to talk again, trying to stay ahead of this. “Well is there anything I could do to convince you that me and my crew are more than capable of taking care of ourselves?”

“Not at risk…” the Knight asked, confused. “Of course you are. Everyone’s at risk in this chaotic world of ours, that's why you need—”

 “Right,” Lucas agreed, interrupting him. “Maybe we aren’t five dragons worth of risk right now, though. Maybe we’re just a dragon or two? That’s how insurance works, right? The more risk, the more it costs.”

“Ah, I see, you’re haggling,” The gang leader said, “You don’t think that we’re worth—”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Lucas insisted. “If I was in a jam, you’d be the first ones I’d come to for help; no matter the price, you’d be worth it. I’m just saying right now, things are good. We’re both getting paid, no one’s out to get me, and we don’t need to upset the apple cart, you know?”

“What do you propose then?” The knight sighed, rubbing his temples with one gauntleted hand. When he’d been giving his pre-planned sales pitch, he’d been pretty slick, but now that Lucas had him off his game, he was a little frazzled. 

“I dunno, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Lucas lied. He certainly had thought that far ahead; he just didn’t know if it would work. “What about you and me square up so you can see what I’m made of. Not a dual, of course - I wouldn’t stand a chance against you, but just… you know, more of a challenge? How’s that sound?”

All the talking had obviously been getting on Sir Tristin’s nerves, but the mention of combat perked him right up. “What are your terms?” he asked as he leaned forward.

Ch. 34 - If Anything Should Happen (part 2)

“My terms?” Lucas asked, sounding surprised. “I’m just a novice here and not exactly dressed for a fight. Why don’t you tell me? What would show you that I know how to handle myself in these sorts of situations?”

The older knight smirked at him and said, “No offense, but I doubt you could ever handle yourself in this sort of situation. You’d be hard-pressed to land a single blow on a trained warrior as the obvious novice you are.”

Words that started with no offense were always intended to offend in Lucas’s experience, but he ignored that and waited for the wave of chuckles to pass through Sir Tristen’s hangers-on before he continued. 

“Hey, no doubt,” Lucas agreed, “I’m just saying, like - what would it take? Maybe I could get Hura’gh here. He’s my half-orc, and you could—”

“I think not,” the gang leader said coldly. Lucas had expected exactly that response. Not only were orc-blooded people only marginally more popular than elves in this very human city, but he hadn’t seen a single Knight of Brass with even a tinge of green, and that was really all he needed to know. “If we were to test or challenge… well, I’m far more concerned with the leader. How strong and resourceful are they?”

“Well, who said anything about me being the big guy?” Lucas quipped, trying to laugh it off, but it was clear they weren’t buying it. 

“Let’s just say I’m an excellent judge of character,” Sir Tristen smiled coolly, “and though I don’t think you could manage to land a single blow against me, I’m willing to give you a chance. If you prove to be more than meets the eye… well, I think that might prove that your organization is in a lower-risk category. How’s that sound to you?”

“I mean, before I say yes, I’m still waiting to hear the rules,” Lucas said cagily, “I ain’t looking to get stabbed just to make a point here.”

“Oh, there’s no need for stabbing, I think,” the knight answered. “I think simply showing you that you can’t lay so much as a single blow against me will be more than sufficient.”

“So if I hit you, even with the tip, then we’ll go with the lower price? Say two dragons?” Lucas asked, making sure he understood the game. 

For a moment he thought about saying free, because he was pretty sure his idea what going to work, but if he did win, and embarrass the man like that, he’d probably make an enemy for life. It was probably better to split the baby here and improve terms later when he and his boys were in a better position. 

“The tip will be more than sufficient,” and when that proves impossible, well, perhaps you’ll see why five dragons is a price that's more than fair.” 

“No other rules I should know about?” Lucas said, offering his hand. 

“No other rules,” Sir Tristen said, shaking it vigorously. 

With that, they both stood and while the knight began to stretch, Lucas dug through his pouch. “What was that,” his opponent asked as Lucas pulled out a muddy brown strength potion and downed the foul liquid in a single shot. 

Tainted potion of Lesser Strength (1 dose): Strength 4, poison 1, endurance 1. Those who imbibe this potion have a 1% chance to go berserk for up to one hour. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas said. “You said there are no rules. Just think of it as a pick me up.”

The knight’s smile brightened, even as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Well then, choose your weapon, and we’ll get started and see just how much protection you and yours need.”

Lucas didn’t respond as he walked to the weapons rack. Instead, he studied the weapons in front of him. All sorts of swords were there: long swords, broad swords, and even a couple of rapiers. 

Lucas looked passed all of those, though, and inspected the practice swords. At the end of the row there were even half a dozen wooden swords. He took his time. It took almost a minute for a boost potion to kick in fully, and even if it was only going to last for twenty or thirty minutes, the fight would be over in five. 

Even though it hadn’t fully kicked in, though, he could feel it coursing through him as a sudden burst of adrenaline that made him more than a little queasy. Well, it was either the potion or the nerves that were doing that, he decided, more than aware that all eyes were on him at this point. 

He returned his attention to the weapon rack. Any one of them would be useless against the man’s armor, especially the wooden ones. However, it wasn’t like he had a prayer of penetrating that well worn plate armor anyway. Not even with the strength potion that he could already feel starting to buzz through him. 

The type of sword didn’t matter for what he was planning. Only the condition. So, he picked up several and gave them an experimental swing before settling on one of the older ones. It wasn’t the most beat up appearance-wise, but it had sort of a hollow sound when he tapped it against the wall, which made him think it was on its last legs. 

So, with a flourish, he chose it and walked into the sand where his opponent was waiting for him with a kite shield and a gleaming long sword. “You can choose steel,” the knight smirked. “I assure you that even if you manage to hurt me, I’ll take no offense.”

“Nah. Those swords you have over there are heavy as shit,” Lucas said with a shake of his head. “I’m more about speed than strength, you know?”

Sir Tristen nodded, answering, “Still, these things are typically settled by—”

“Hey, you said to choose a weapon, and I chose this one,” Lucas called out, knowing that his plan would be useless with a metal sword. “Now, let’s fight already!”

This was obviously the right answer, and the knight gave him a feral grin before saluting him with his sword and dropping into a guard stance. Lucas, for his part, gave the man a mock salute and then tried a few quick feints to get a feel for the man. The first two were parried with his opponent's gleaming sword, the next was blocked by the shield, and the last one he simply stepped out of reach.

“Go on,” the knight goaded. “Let us not be lukewarm about this. Show us all what you’re made of!”

Or the price could be going up next month,  Lucas thought to himself. Looking around the courtyard it was clear they were the center of attention now. Sir Tristin probably always was, but now it was obvious that Lucas needed to show these guys something, even if it hadn’t been before. 

So, he laid into the other man, hammering him with blow after blow. He used only one hand for now, which gave him reach instead of power, and was careful to pull his punches a little bit. He didn’t hold back much, though. He wanted this to look good, after all. 

Despite that, he came up short. Even though he rained down slashes and thrusts on the other man, he barely had to move much quicker than before to keep up. Not only did his plate mail not slow him as much as Lucas had hoped, but even without that, it was hopeless. It was clear to everyone, especially Lucas, that Sir Tristan had spent a good portion of his long life honing his craft; he was a consummate swordsman, and on a level playing field, there was no way that Lucas could hope to win. 

Fortunately, Lucas had never planned to fight fairly. It was just a matter of what strategy would work best in this case. Even if he used the smoke bomb he’d brought with him, he doubted that would be enough to turn the tide, and even if he did manage to hit the man in a choking cloud of white smoke, no one would believe him. That was why he’d gone with the strength potion instead. 

Unfortunately, the knight was managing to fuck even that part up. He was so skilled that he wasn’t just parrying, against each blow he was parrying with the flat of his blade, and doing very little to chip away at Lucas’s flimsy wooden weapon. Still, he wouldn’t be denied, and he pressed harder, at least forcing the older man to take a few steps further back. 

“Come on, show me something!” the knight roared. “You’ll never get there like that!”

“Raaghhhh!” Lucas roared, pretending to get pissed off and caught up in the moment. He switched to a two-handed grip, leveraging more force in every blow.

He didn’t let himself get frustrated, though. Since the knight’s sword wasn’t cutting it, he switched to basing on the top of Sir Tristen’s shield with every third blow. The knight didn’t react so he obviously didn’t notice what it was that Lucas was trying to do. 

It was only when the last six inches of the sword were noticeably damaged that he switched tactics and used his full strength. The potion he’d chugged had been flowing with him for some time now, but now he finally let loose, unleashing a storm of blows. 

Lucas was hardly a strong man, but with the alchemical boost he could fake it pretty well. Each impact of wood on metal rang out loudly enough to echo against the walls of the surrounding buildings. They were also enough to earn the full attention of his opponent for the first time all fight, and Lucas could see the man’s eyes glow with joy. No matter what reason he had to fight, it was obvious he enjoyed it. 

“Had enough?” Sir Tristan said through gritted teeth. “I think we’ve proved that—”

That was when Lucas kicked out with his left leg, pushing against the man’s shield. The blow was both unexpected and powerful, but the goal wasn’t to knock it out of the way. Lucas knew the man wouldn’t let go of the shield; instead, he wanted to use that to twist the knight ever so slightly off balance. 

He succeed in that at least, but only because Sir Tristen lashed out with his blade automatically as he feared the counterstroke. Lucas might have actually hit him in that moment if he’d been aiming for the other man. He wasn’t though. He’d been aiming for his sword, and he struck it with all his might it almost exactly the right spot. 

For a moment he feared that he’d missed, but that was only because where their blades finally met, one sliced clean through the other, sending the tip soaring passed then knight’s guard and clattering hollowly against the man’s breastplate. 

Combat paused there in that confusion as the small courtyard quieted, and everyone tried to determine what had just happened. “We can pause if you’d like to get a new sword,” Sir Tristen said, obviously not sure what just happened. 

“No need,” Lucas smiled, “The blow is struck, the test is passed, and I…”

“A blow?” the knight laughed, “but your sword shattered. Such a strike would never aid you in battle.”

“Ahh… that’s true. In a real fight, you’d slive me into bloody sushi,” Lucas smiled. “But this wasn’t a battle. This was tag, and you said the tip would be more than sufficient, so…”

“The tip?” he said, baffled. “Wait… you did that on purpose? You broke the sword to get past my guard?”

“Guilty,” Lucas nodded. “It’s the first time in my life I told someone I’d just give them the tip, and I followed through.”

For a second, Lucas thought the joke might have gone over the man’s head. In fact, he hoped that's exactly what happened. 

“The first time, huh?” Sir Tristen said as he bent over to pick up the shattered piece of sword that had made contact with him. “Well, it’s not the first time a little bastard like you fucked me out of a few dragons…”

Lucas held his breath, wondering he’d made a mistake, but after a theatrical moment, a grin suddenly sprang to life on the knight’s face, and he continued. “But damn, if it ain’t the first time I enjoyed it! You’re a clever one, Mr Blue. I look forward to our continued relationship.”

He tossed Lucas the broken piece of wood, and he looked at it dumbly. He was as surprised as anyone that his little maneuver had worked out, but still he was glad for it. It would buy them a little breathing room and get them what why needed most: allies.

Ch. 35 - One Last Thing

A flask of strong whiskey was produced, and the two of them sat back down to drink and chat. Lucas paid the gang his due. It felt shitty to lose two dragons to a strong-arm tactic like this, but the rep he’d earned as a smart-ass was probably worth almost that much. So, instead of beating himself up over not finding a better way out of this, Lucas simply consoled himself with all the money he’d saved himself in the future by not just bending over. 

Once the pecking order had been established, they seemed like good enough guys. Lucas took a sip of the liquor before passing it on, and found it to be pretty good. He pretended to take a slug of course, but given that he already had one poisonous potion flowing through his body he didn’t want to chance getting drunk. Reactions like that could be… unpredictable. 

There was simply no such thing as the old rule of thumb: liquor after beer, you’re in the clear when it came to little magical vials, and whenever possible, he preferred not to mix them. As near as he could tell, the fact that there was a little poison in almost every alchemical substance was normal. 

Getting that out before one finished a brew was one of the two key components of the craft. Everyone worried about the second one, which was the effect, but making a toxic potion did no one any good. Well, no human anyway, Lucas thought to himself ruefully. He was still surprised that Hura’gh seemed basically fine after the shit he’d made for him in the dungeon. 

So, Lucas abstained from getting his buzz on and instead traded jokes with the warriors while he felt the adrenaline from the fight still buzzing away behind his eyes like ants or cheap crack. After half a dozen veiled accusations that he might be clever, but there was no way he could take so much as a squire in a real fight, Lucas finally took up the challenge while Sir Tristen watched blandly. 

He knew that the Knights of Brass were still looking to get the measure of him by goading him like this, but he didn’t care. That was why he fought again, to get the energy building up inside him out before he said or did something stupid. 

For this second fight he took off Gerwin’s nice pressed shirt and put on a cheap leather jerkin and a helm for just such an occasion. This time, instead of pitting him against a decades old knight, he faced off against a boy who was half a head taller than Lucas. He outweighed him, too, but Lucas wasn’t concerned about that. Right now, it was about the size of the fight in the dog and not the dog in the fight. 

The two of them crossed swords a few times before the boy was convinced that Lucas knew little enough that he could best him easily and fully engaged. That was his mistake. Lucas didn’t have a lot of fancy skills, but right now, he was half again as strong as he usually was, and as soon as it came to trading blow and counterblow, he quickly battered his young opponent’s sword until he was finally disarmed. 

Still, it was good fun, and Lucas offered the other man a hand while he lay in the dirt. While he did so, he was more than a little conscious that if not for the now-fading potion, the fight certainly would have gone the other way. 

“There, now you can tell all your friends,” Lucas boasted when he returned to the group clustered around their leader. “I might not be able to take out your boss in a million years, but I can beat up small children.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Lucas stayed long enough to feel his pulse finally slow down, but eventually, he decided to leave before he’d worn out his welcome. He promised to come by once or twice a month, and when he expressed some genuine interest in learning to get better with a sword, Sir Tristen seemed genuinely pleased. 

“Do that long enough, and maybe one day you and I can have a real dual,” the other man laughed. “Perhaps in twenty years, when I am enfeebled in my dotage, you might even win!”

It was a strange experience, but despite the somewhat adversarial way things had gone, he felt that they’d parted as friends. At least it was better than the way things had gone with the beggars. Those blind bastards had practically kicked him to death in an alley and left him for dead, so the current state of things was a vast improvement. 

Not that there’s any honor among thieves, of course, he reminded himself. The Knights of Brass might claim to have honor, but if they’d since real weakness next month, five dragons would have become ten, and soon enough, he’d be working only for them in some basement somewhere ‘for his own safety.’

It’s just the way the world worked. The strong preyed on the weak, and he was going to have to get stronger if he wanted to keep the wolves at bay as they started to make real money. 

That was what made him decide it was finally time to retrieve his notes before something happened to him. Why not, right? He’d gotten into the city without a hitch. No one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to him. 

When he stopped by the stables to pick up his mule and was told that the cask hadn’t been returned yet, that was the final straw. “Take your time, I’m going to go grab a bite,” Lucas told the stable boy. 

He might, too, but only after he stopped by his old place in Gray Bottom. It wasn’t far. The foundry district was the next district over, and everything from the smokestacks to the river was technically Gray Bottom. Technically it was a series of tenements that was downwind of the worst polluters, but the truth was worse than that. It was the poorest district of Lordanin and the place where dreams came to die. 

As Lucas approached it, he could see the bleakness radiating from the place as clearly as he could see the brick buildings or the rising smoke. The place was a maze, but that had made it perfect for his purposes. It was exactly the right place to be when you wanted to make sure your comings and going were untraceable. 

He knew the whole area like the back of his hand anyway. He had to. The building he’d lived in for the last few months was on a street that didn’t even have a name. It was just a winding path through a burned-out lot that had once been a factory. 

Lucas approached his neighborhood with caution but saw nothing suspicious. The same bums begged on the same thoroughfares as usual, and the same old women looked out of the same glassless windows they always sat at, adding to the aura of despair. 

He grew even more cautious when he approached the tenements that he lived in, but again, it was just his paranoia. There was nothing there. 

“Hah, nothing was right,” he chuckled as he found the door to his one-room apartment and found the place stripped pretty much bare. Not that he’d expected anything less. People were vultures, and desperate people were doubly so. 

Normally, his glassware was safe when he left the place for a day of herb hunting because he mixed it in with his crockery and cook pots and hid small articles under clothes and behind furniture. That strategy worked less well when everything was stone, right down to the match sticks, making Lucas laugh to himself as he took in the sheer emptiness of the place. 

Someone had definitely ransacked it, though it was hard to say that it was the authorities since his things weren’t just smashed and lying across the floor. Instead, they were just gone. 

Most of his meager possessions had probably disappeared into his neighbor’s homes, and a few of them were probably still available in the flea markets that popped up at random in the minor squares of the city. Only a few mugs, a smashed volumetric flask, an overturned chair, and a pair of pants still lay scattered around the room. 

“It’s about what I expected,” he said to himself as he walked over to the window and opened up the shutters to look out at the back alley that ran behind his building. “There’s probably somebody drinking cheap bear out of a boiling flask right now.”

It was an amusing thought, but he genuinely hoped that he’d remember to clean the things first. Some of the ingredients he mixed up could be downright dangerous. 

Still, there didn’t seem to be any signs that anyone had dug up his real treasures, so no real harm was done. Lucas walked to the hearth and used his dagger to start pulling up the largest stone in front of it. The floor of the place was pounded earth, which was pretty much the opposite of fancy, but it did give him a great hiding place for small things, especially if he kept a small fire burning when he went out to discourage a more thorough search. 

The large, flat stone was heavy and stuck in the ground pretty firmly. However, with a little gouging and a little prying, he soon worked it free. 

Though his apprehension continued to mount, as soon as he saw the cover of the old ledger he used to take notes on, he relaxed. Lucas quickly shoved the coin purse in with the other one in his shoulder pouch. The notes would be a little harder. 

The book that he used to store his collected alchemical knowledge to date was thick and falling apart. More than half of it were bits of scrap papers that he’d stuck between the sheets of the book that had originally been a cobblers ledger before it fell into his hands. There, amidst the patterns for shoes and the order quantities sorted by month and year, were notes about ingredient incompatibility and the various minor synergies he’d discovered over the years. 

Lucas flipped through them, stopping on a page with specialized healing potion information. For +50% effectiveness to eye ailments, including near and farsightedness, maiden slip roots could be added. If you wanted a healing salve that would have increased effectiveness on skin problems, you could add bear grease or a white clay suspension. The former would—

As Lucas reviewed the book and felt the joy that he wasn’t going to have to rediscover all of this from scratch, he paused and looked up as he heard a humming sound. No, heard was the wrong word. He felt a strange hum going right through him. 

That was the first and only sign that something strange was happening. “Magic,” he spat, closing the book and hopping to his feet. 

Lucas darted for the door, but only made it a step out into the dark hallway before he saw a glint of something metallic and hastily jumped back. Before he could slam the door shut, it was there, floating in the air in front of him. A dagger. 

No, he corrected himself. His dagger. The one he’d had on him when he’d gotten arrested. 

To locate you he’d heard mages needed something that belonged to their target, and apparently when they’d found it, they’d used it like a compass needle to point right to him. Well, it did more than point. It was chasing him, and apparently ready to run him through. 

Lucas scrambled back as the thing came at him like an angry steel hornet hovering in midair. He moved for the window, but the thing cut him off, forcing him to back closer and closer to the fireplace. He had a knife on him, but if he’d had a shield or a sword, he might have been able to parry it when it finally darted at him. 

It didn’t, though. Even as some part of him realized that this spell actually had to have a pretty short range for it to have happened here, and not simply when he walked into the city this morning. It was also definitely guided by an intelligent mind by the way it was content to menace him rather than moving toward its target until it was embedded in his chest. So, he wasn’t the least bit surprised when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

Ch. 36 - Lost and Found

Lucas had his left hand stuck in his shoulder pouch while his right held up his book like a flimsy shield when the mage entered the room. The man was younger than he would have thought, but he wore the same dark robes that the other mage had worn on the night of his arrest. 

Does that mean it's the same guy or that they’re part of the same order? Lucas wondered. He didn’t have answers. 

Wizards did wizard things, and the rest of the world simply tried to adjust. During his time in Lordanin, he’d seen red robes, blue robes, and black robes. He didn’t know what any of it meant, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they had something to do with rank or purpose. 

None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was that the young man who was looking at him with a wand in hand had an obvious chip on his shoulder, and when he opened his mouth, Lucas could barely resist the urge to punch him in the face, even if it meant getting stabbed. 

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve made me wait, peasant?” the weasel-faced mage asked in a tone so nasal that it was begging for a wedgie at a minimum. “I’ve been forced to wait here for weeks when my best spells failed to find you anywhere in this awful city. Come now, apologize to your betters, and perhaps I will deliver you to the Prince with all of your… appendages intact.”

Lucas had the feeling that the man wasn’t referring to his fingers with that strange comment, but he ignored it anyway. Too much thinking about what a weirdo like this did or did not mean was bad for your health. 

“Whoa!” Lucas yelled. “Why don’t you put the spell down, and we can talk this out. I’m not the guy you’re looking for!”

The dagger twitched as the mage pursed his lips in annoyance. “Not the right man?” he laughed. You think you can lie to a man that’s holding a spell locked to your very existence?”

With the man’s final word, the weapon shot forward with blinding speed. Rather than embedding in Lucas’s eye socket, though, it merely sliced his cheek before orbiting the back of his head and scoring another shallow slash down his left arm before returning to its original spot, floating between the two men. 

“You should know that right now, all this simple little spell wants to do is return to its owner. It wants to embed itself in your heart, and I’m the only one keeping you from bleeding out. Do you understand?” the mage asked, in a tone that dripped with so much superiority that Lucas could have taken another few cuts for the chance to punch the man in the mouth. “Now you’re going to apologize for being a stupid little worm, and then you and me are going to walk to the district guard post so that they can take you to the castle. I hear that the Prince is positively desperate to talk with you.”

A dozen different thoughts flashed through Lucas’s mind at that moment. How he didn’t want to die and the fact that this miserable mage scared him more than that giant spider was right near the top of the list, but nothing topped his certainty that he would never go back to that fucking palace. He’d heard the way that they treated their other prisoners, and he’d rather die here and now with a knife through the heart than spend days getting tortured for his secrets. 

It’s not like he had a lot he could tell them anyway. I have these little windows that pop up whenever I see a potion or a reagent. No, I’m not crazy. It wasn’t exactly a skill he could transfer. The way that the mage seemed to look at the empty air now and then as he looked at Lucas indicated that his magic might operate in some similar way, but honestly, he couldn't care less how this asshole’s magic worked. He just wanted to get away. 

“I’m very sorry,” Lucas started, holding his breath for a moment. He readied himself for what came next while he watched the mage’s smile brighten. “...that you’re such a prick!”

As he spoke, he pulled his hand free from his pouch and etched the man’s look of consternation deeply into his mind. He threw the vial in his hand on the floor, smashing it to bits. 

Noxious Potion of Camouflage (1 dose): Create 30 cubic feet of choking smoke for 10 seconds. 10% chance of nausea. 

Lucas barely had time to flash the asshole a grin before the whole room was filled with white, noxious smoke. There was no fire or anything. He hadn’t gotten around to trying his hand at fireworks, but he’d made this little gem by accident once upon a time when he’d been trying to make a potion of natural armor. 

Instead, he’d discovered that stinkweed was not in any way appropriate to replace bog Lilly. Instead of making the potion his client had asked for, he learned that a combination of pulverized stink weeds, alcohol, and salt produced a stink bomb big enough to clear a room and make vision impossible for at least a few seconds while the cloud billowed out. 

The white billowing clouds wouldn’t last long, but hopefully, it was enough for what was going to come next as he braced his book in front of his chest. Hopefully, that asshole meant heart literally instead of figuratively, or this is going to be the shortest escape on record. 

He didn’t have to wait long, at least. A moment later, he had his answer, as the book he was holding shuddered under the impact, and the knife pierced it all the way to the hilt. 

The blow was so strong that, for a moment, it drove Lucas back against the wall, and he struggled to keep the recipe book from impaling him. Of all the times not to have a fucking strength potion, he thought as he struggled. 

In the end, it was only the embarrassment of dying this way that gave him the strength to push free. As the smoke started to fade, Lucas took three steps forward and clocked the mage hard with the spine of his ledger, sending the wiry young man to the floor. 

“Not so tough without a knife to my throat, are you?” Lucas taunted. He regretted it almost immediately, though, because the mage leveled his wand at him. 

Lucas kicked the mage’s arm just as he yelled out, “Vertenbraserria Karatethimusium!” 

Lucas felt the air gust by him like he’d been standing a little too close to a train as the wall behind him disappeared. Disappeared might have been too strong a word. It violently exploded, pelting the building on the other side of the street with bricks and sending debris everywhere into the back alley. It also removed a key structural support, and the whole structure around them shuddered. 

Lucas ran out of the hole in the wall like a shot. The mage might strike him dead before he could get out of the young man’s line of sight, but the building would certainly crush him if it fell down on top of them. 

The mage had time to yell, “Vertenhavalia—” and then whatever else he’d planned to cast died with him as the three stories of rubble fell down on top of him, silencing whatever his last words were. 

Lucas practically collide with the far wall before he managed to turn right and run down the alley as the building continued to collapse behind him, sending up a wall of dust and debris. At the end of the alley, he paused to catch his breath. It was there that he realized that the dagger that was impaled in his journal was still writhing and trying desperately to stab Lucas. 

“That motherfucker is still breathing?” he asked, unbelievingly, as he watched the dagger writhe. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. Even as the pulverized dust billowed, he stood there baffled. “There’s no way. This shit has to be enchanted or something because—”

Somewhere behind him, there was an explosion, which was exactly the sort of sound that Lucas would expect to hear if a mage was throwing a cosmic sort of temper tantrum in an attempt to dig his way out of his own grave. He didn’t delay after that. He ran down different streets, one after another, turning from thoroughfare to alley and back again. 

He wasn’t aiming for a specific place. Away was the only destination that mattered for the next five minutes. People looked at him like he was a crazy person as he passed them. 

Lucas didn’t blame them. He was covered in dust and bleeding, and to top it off, he was holding a book out in front of him like it was a bomb or something. 

It was only after he took a break that he realized the dagger was no longer struggling against his grip. He stood there for a moment, fearing some kind of trap, before everything finally clicked. 

“Oh, I finally made it out of range,” he said dumbly as he looked at the thing. 

He had no idea if that was enough to cancel the spell or if the thing would return to life as soon as the mage got close enough to him once more. He wasn’t about to find out, though. He took the thing out of his book and jammed it into a crack in the wall of the alley he was resting in and then kicked it repeatedly with his boot until his foot was aching and it was so wedged between the stone and the wood that someone would need an axe to get back out. 

Only then did he relax and try to calm himself up a little bit. “Man, Gerwin is going to kill me when he sees what I did to his shirt,” Lucas sighed as he washed his face in a rain barrel. Once that was done, he popped his healing potion and watched his wounds evaporate. After that, he scrubbed his shirt in the barrel to get rid of the worst of the stains, and then he tried to figure out where he was. 

It only took a few minutes of looking at the street signs to realize he’d run practically to the harbor. Lucas took the next twenty minutes, taking the long way around back to the stables that held his donkey on the street of hammers. He had to cross the river twice, but it was worth it to avoid the mere chance that he’d run across that damn mage again. 

Both the guard and the stable boy looked at him funny when he showed up looking like shit, but Lucas ignored their stares before finally saying, “What? Someone tries to roll you; you gotta kick their ass, right?”

That at least got a nod of recognition. These simple bastards only really recognized force as a means of resolving conflict.  

“You won, though, right?” the guard asked. 

“You’re god damned right I did,” Lucas growled as he walked past them. Of course, he won. He was going to keep on winning, too, and he wasn’t going to let the gangs or the mages stop him from getting what was his.