Brewing Bad Ch. 11-18 (Patreon)

Ch. 11 - Ride or Die

The east gate was already shut for the night before Lucas got there, so he decided to try the Red Gate instead. If they’d closed that one, he’d have to try the main gate next. It was usually open all day and night, but it would have been even more out of the way. As it was, this was more northeast than east, which made it more than a little out of the way, but it was the next closest choice.

The Red Gate was named for the ubiquitous tile roofs that all of the large villas had in this part of town. It was a smaller entrance that wasn’t really meant for merchant traffic, but thanks to some of his trips out of town to gather materials in recent months, he happened to know that they often kept it open for nobles who were on their way too or from their nightly indiscretions.

Just like now, most of the times Lucas had gone through this neighborhood, it was too dark to appreciate its beauty, but he had been here at sunrise more than once, and he knew that behind the vine-veiled walls and wrought iron gates, there were some really gorgeous estates. It was pretty much the opposite of Greybottom, which was the part of Lordanin just downwind from the metalworks and the foundries that he called home right now.

The guards at the gate tried to stop the two of them, of course. “Halt in the name of the king and identify—” the one that looked to be in charge yelled, but Lucas ignored him and spurred his borrowed mount to go that much faster as they approached the threshold.

Lucas wasn’t exactly traveling in a gilded carriage, but these men were lazy and more used to accepting a few silvers to look the other way, especially this time of night. They ran toward Lucas, but they didn’t get their spears up in time, and his horse charged right past all three of the assembled men while he held on for dear life.

That was hardly the end of his struggle, though. He was free of the city, but he had no idea where he was going. So, after a time, he let his horse slow to a trot while he tried to wake up his passenger.

“Come on, asshole,” Lucas said, slapping the guy without much success. “I can’t save your life if I do know where I’m taking you!”

It was no good, though. Though Lord Parin still had a weak pulse, he was out like a light.

Lucas knew his way around a first aid kit, and in a pinch, he could probably deliver CPR with some effectiveness. Beyond that, the only medical procedure he really knew was how to dial 911, and that wasn’t really an option these days. Once upon a time, he’d been pretty good with needles, of course, but that wasn’t really a thing either, though he had wondered if maybe it could be.

After all, needles were just sharp metal. Surely, that was something that could be invented in a fantasy world with the right dwarf, right? With all the time he’d spent making various potions, Lucas had often wondered if it would make them act faster or stronger if he just mainlined one. Sadly, he’d never had the chance to try it out, which was too bad because the nobleman bleeding out on his horse really could have used a 50ccs of high-quality healing elixir right about now.

In the end, Lucas couldn’t get any answers out of the Viscount, so he did the next best thing and stole the man’s ring. For once, he wasn’t just rolling him, though. He was getting a good look at the house crest on the chunky gold ring since it was the best clue he was likely to have.

Every one of these rich bastards out this way had their house seal mounted on a plaque on the wall or just above their gate, so if he got to the east road and then checked every manor in his path, he should find what he was looking for, right? Even he was skeptical of his half-assed plan, for lack of better options, he still rode forward.

The Perrin household was apparently represented by two goats dancing or charging or whatever it was they were doing against the background of a checked shield. It wasn’t exactly the most regal sort of pose, but at least it was distinctive. He had to give them that.

Lucas scrutinized 6 manor gates and the largest houses in two villages over the next half hour before he finally found what he was looking for. The building was a sprawling brick affair almost two miles due east of the city, just past the outlying village of Thornberry. The main building was three stories tall, and the outbuildings were in decent repair, even if the fence wasn’t as fancy as some of the noble houses he’d passed earlier in the evening.

He wasn’t sure that this was the place, but at the same time, he wasn’t exactly going to circle around and check to see if there were any better candidates. He doubted that Lord Parin had another hour of life left in him, and there were two goats on the gates, so he wasn’t going to leave until he got the man a potion or a healer.

Lucas disentangled himself from the body of his unwilling partner in crime and managed to dismount from the horse without dropping the other man on the floor. Then he looped the reigns over the porch’s handrail. Then, taking the steps two at a time, he pounded on the front door.

He did so more than once, actually, before a sleepy old man finally opened it a crack. He was just about to slam it in Lucas’s face, but he shoved his boot in the gap to prevent that. “Hey, before you tell me to fuck off, is this the Parin residence?”

“It is,” the man said cagily, “but unless you have urgent business, I’m going to have to ask you to come back after breakfast. We don’t accept—”

“I need to speak to the lady of the house,” Lucas blurted out. “Lord Parin’s sister. I don’t know her name.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” the old man hissed. Lucas was quite sure that only his need for decorum kept his volume so low, and that made him smile grimly despite the dire circumstances.

“Yeah, and I assure you, I’ve had a much shittier night than you,” Lucas complained, pressing something into the manservant’s hand. “But that doesn’t change anything, does it. She’s going to want to see me.”

The man looked down at the gleaming object, but in the dim light, it took a few seconds for him to identify what it was: Lord Parin’s bloody signet ring.

“Is that—” he asked.

“It is,” Lucas agreed impatiently. “And my ummm… my charge doesn’t have a lot of time, so if you could let me see her immediately, that would be great.”

“But my lady will need time to change and prepare herself…” the old man stammered. “There are things… forms that must be followed…”

“Listen, if you got a healing potion you can give me, she can sleep until noon for all I care, but otherwise, I’m going to need her to hook me up, like now,” Lucas insisted, pushing past the man.

“I-I… can’t give out such things without my mistress's approval,” the doorman protested.

“Not even for your master?” Lucas asked, gesturing to the body slumped over the horse.

“I mean…” the manservant said, waffling as if he was trying to justify something. “Even if he is the Viscount, he’s an escaped prisoner. I could be arrested just for—”

“I didn’t think so,” Lucas agreed, starting up the stairs. “So, let's go get one before he bleeds out on us.”

Adventurers might toss them around like candy, but at five or ten silver a pop, they were locked up tighter than good brandy in most households, even rich ones. Good health in a bottle had a way of disappearing if it wasn’t watched. That was why Lucas watered his shit down so much.

The manservant tried to stop Lucas, but he continued up the stairs and left the doorman sputtering in his wake as he pushed past him. It was rude, but Lucas made sure not to hurt the old guy. He was just doing what he thought was best, and right now, he happened to be completely wrong.

Even though he wasn’t quite sure where he was going, he was pretty sure he’d know it when he found it. Nice houses practically put it up in lights as far as he was concerned. After all, servants' quarters didn’t need gilded banisters or a string of portraits that were almost certainly their illustrious forebearers.

Hell, it was harder to see the servants' quarters than the various doors that belonged to the important people of the house because of just how well those entrances blended in with the wood-paneled walls, but there was no missing the door that belonged to the mistress. It didn’t quite have her name on it, but the rose pattern that was delicately carved into the lacquered door screamed spoiled rich girl more than anything else he’d seen in his time in this world.

The manservant tried to bar his way, but he just walked in and said, “Excuse me, miss - I… no, your brother needs your help?”

“My broth… huh? Who are you?” her sleepy voice came from the dark bed, but Lucas could barely see her outline as she slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing in my chambers?”

“I—” Lucas started to answer her question, but the butler talked right over him.

“Forgive me, mistress. I tried to keep him out, but I was overpowered. Would you have me send for the guards to deal with this ruffian?”

“No, wait, I want to hear him out,” she said softly. “Whats this about my brother? What happened? Was there a stay in his execution?”

This time, Lucas looked at the old man, and when he was satisfied that the man was actually going to let him speak, he finally continued. “Let’s just say this is a good news, bad news sort of situation. Your brother is not going to be executed, but he’s been hurt pretty bad in our little escape, and if you don’t tell this clown to give me a healing potion or two, he ain’t going to live long enough to see sunrise.”

“What? Escaped? How?” she said, rising to her feet and showing off her frilled and embroidered full-body nightgown. “How did he get shot?”

“Never mind all that,” Lucas said,m pushing the issue aside. “Answers can come later. I need your help now. Potions, bandages, whatever else you’ve got, pronto.”

The noblewoman had finally gotten close enough that he could see her, and he was surprised to see that she wasn’t the stuck-up bitch he’d expected. She was just a nice, sweet girl.

“Of course,” she answered. “Gerwin, get this man whatever he needs. My brother… your master’s life is hanging in the balance!”

“But mistress, we’d be aiding and abeding escaped fugitives!” he pleaded. “You’re liable to wind up standing right next to him when the headsman takes his turn. You can’t—”

“Gerwin, I know perfectly well what’s at stake here, and I don‘t care!” she said, stomping her foot. “If you won’t help him, then I’ll go downstairs and…”

As the young woman spoke, she walked past them to the door of her bedroom, and the manservant cried out as loudly as he dared without waking up the whole house while his eyes were still averted, “Mistress, please, I beg of you, at least stay here and let me do it. Don’t go traipsing around the house in your underthings and compound our shame any further!”

The noblewoman looked down and noticed that all she was wearing was her nightgown. Suddenly she looked scandalized, and blushed hard enough that Lucas could see her skin redden even in this dim light. It was almost enough to make Lucas burst out laughing, but he managed to hold his mirth in and settle for a subtle smirk instead. She proceeded to cover herself like he’d walked in on her naked.

She wasn’t, of course. She was dressed from her throat to her wrists and ankles in cloth. Every inch of her was covered, but just because it was thought to be a nightgown instead of an actual gown, somehow was enough to make it indecent. She would have been truly scandalized if she ever learned of the existence of a bikini.

Her and half the whores in the red light district, Lucas thought sardonically. The world was scandalized by a hint of cleavage or a glimpse of calf, and some part of him found that charming.

“Quite right,” she said, embarrassed. “Please uhhhmmm… help our uninvited guest with whatever he needs, and I will wake my maid to get help changing into something more appropriate.”

Ch. 12 - A Long Night

The old man led Lucas down the stairs to the study, the parlor, or whatever the hell it was. It was a nice room with a lot of books that said more about the wealth of the Parin family than any amount of gold jewelry in a world where the printing press wasn’t exactly a thing.

He was sure they were very interesting, but he ignored all that and waited impatiently while the manservant fumbled through his keyring for the right silver key. “Come on, man,” Lucas prodded him. “This is life and death, you know?”

“You are not making this any quicker,” Gerwin snapped, but Lucas ignored him.

Maybe he locked up his hustle in here with the potions, he thought, choosing not to say it aloud and pick a fight. Now wasn’t the time for that.

As soon as the chest was open, Lucas was rifling through it. Well, he tried to. As soon as he could see them, a whole cloud of popups momentarily blinded him as he tried to look past the stupid windows to the objects he really needed.

Lesser Healing Potion (3 doses): Mild healing, endurance +1.

Lesser Healing Potion (3 doses): Mild healing, endurance +1.

Moderate Healing Potion (2 doses): Average healing, endurance +2.

Lesser Antidote (4 doses): Counteracts up to three levels of poison.

Mild Soporific (2 doses): Lesser sleep, euphoria 1, poison 1.

Potion of Cure Mild Disease (1 dose): endurance +5 (for the purposes of recovery only), poison 1.

Those were just the potions, too. The damn thing listed half a dozen herbs, too. Some of them were dried, and others were already mixed in poultices. That’s not what Lucas needed right now, though, and he quickly brushed them aside as he looked for the things he needed right now.

As far as he was concerned, disease was a great problem to have. Disease meant that you had days or weeks until you died, and a lot could happen in a few days. Blood loss, though? It was much less forgiving.

Despite the dirty look that the butler was giving him, Lucas began to load up. He pocketed the lesser healing potion and the moderate one, too. Then, he started looking around for practical supplies. There was a needle and thread in here, so he pocketed those. There was no scalpel or bandages, though, which seemed stupid.

“Why does everyone have to rely on magic in this world,” he grumbled softly.

Medicine was for poor people, and doctors still had leaches. He knew that for a fact, though, which was why he'd never gone back after the last time. He’d rather die in a ditch than be told how medicinal purging his humors was.

Instead, he left the study as quickly as he entered it and barged into the dining room, where he quickly started clearing off the table.

“What are you doing?” Gerwin asked.

“What’s it look like,” Lucas shrugged, not bothering to look at the man. “I’m getting bandages. You tend to need those when someone is bleeding. You know?”

“B-b-but these are fine linens,” the old man sputtered, “You can’t—”

“I can, and I will,” Lucas said as he yanked the cloth free and started wadding it up. “If you got a problem with that, you can go right back upstairs.”

He didn’t even wait for a response that time. He could feel every second ticking by now. This was taking too damn long, and he needed to get out of here. That became even more true when he went into the kitchen to get a knife and he saw lights approaching in the distance.

They weren’t exactly the red and blue lights he was used to, but the group of flickering orange torches pretty much said the same thing in neon letters. ‘We are cops, and we’re coming for your ass.”

“I was never here,” Lucas growled at Gerwin before he bolted for the front door. “You understand that? Warn your mistress. Tell her none of this happened, and you never saw us, alright?”

The man nodded numbly, and it was only when Lucas was walking out the front door to his horse that he realized the butler might have thought he was being threatened by the way that Lucas was holding his newly acquired paring knife. There was no time for apologies, though. There was only time to get the hell out of here.

Lucas didn’t even bother to remount the horse. He just grabbed it by its bridle and started leading it around the house to the far side where they wouldn’t be seen. From there, he faced a dilemma. He’d been planning to do all this right there on the porch, or maybe in the barn he could just barely see from the front yard, but if those were guards, and they were really after them, Lucas couldn’t stay here.

He’d have to be at least far enough away that they wouldn’t hear the sound of screaming when he yanked that crossbow bolt out, So he headed out past the garden and the barn toward the black wall that he was pretty sure were woods. Being out in the forest of a fantasy world at night wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but it was the only choice he had right now.

Lucas sighed. “Man, I just can’t catch a break. I just want to lay down and take a nap, but that sure as hell ain’t happening.”

He complained the whole way to the forest, passing several smaller outbuildings and a farm over the next few minutes to chase the shadows away. This close to civilization, it was probably pretty safe, but really, what could he do? It wasn’t like they had another choice here.

Once he picked a likely spot to build their campsite, he carefully unloaded his patient, and after checking his pulse, he checked on the guards. There were torches around the Parin manse, and some lights were on inside, but they didn’t seem to be heading his way, and for now, that was all he could hope for.

“We’re going to be okay, man,” Lucas told his unconscious partner in crime as he got him up into a sitting position and fumbled with one of the potions of lesser healing.

He was talking to himself as much as the Viscount, but mostly he was stalling. He faced a critical dilemma at this moment. If he pulled the crossbow bolt free before he gave the man the potion, he would make the wound that much worse. Lord Parin might just decide to bleed out before the very expensive red liquid could work its magic.

The man had a much bigger chance of pulling through if Lucas started the healing first, but that just meant it was going to be that much more painful to get the thing out of there when the time came. Ultimately, Lucas didn’t want the man to die, even if he seemed like a putz, so he forced half of the lesser healing potion down the unconscious man’s throat and then held his mouth closed while he choked and sputtered.

Choking was a good sign, just like when Lucas had been yanked out of the water. It was a sign that you were about to die and not that you were already dead.

A few seconds later, the lord’s eyes fluttered open, and after trying and failing to speak a couple times, he finally asked. “Did I die?”

“Not yet, man,” Lucas smiled, “but keep it up, and maybe next time you will.”

“If I’m not dead, then why does it hurt so bad?” the Viscount asked.

“Well, that’s… that’s the thing, isn’t it.,” Lucas said as he picked up the tablecloth and started ripping it into strips. “No one is ever grateful to wake up after they survived a drive-by, are they?”

“What’s a drive-by?” the noble asked.

“It’s a… Never mind,” Lucas said as he started winding the cloth around a branch that was just about the right size. “The good news is that you lived, but the bad news is that in a second, I’m going to yank out the arrow that almost killed you, and it’s probably going to hurt like hell.”

“Wha… why didn’t you do that while I was unconscious?” Lord Parin gasped. “I… In light of the current circumstances, I think maybe we should see a proper physiker, or—”

He began to squirm in Lucas’s grip to the point where he was afraid the noble was going to aggravate his injury and drive the quarrel deeper inside him, so Lucas slapped him good and hard to bring him to his senses. “Listen,” Lucas hissed, offering him the stick. “There are guards right over there. This is what we gotta do. Alright? You’ll be fine. I brought two potions. One is to make sure you don’t die, and the other one is to fix whatever happens next. Now stop being a little bitch and bite down on this, alright?”

The Viscount looked from Lucas to the stick and back again before he finally said, “Don’t you have something… stronger?”

Lucas rolled his eyes and was about to tell the doughy, spoiled man to grow a pair when he realized that he, in fact, did have something stronger. “Yeah, man, actually I do, but the thing his… blue has risks of its own, you know? The pain might be better?”

“Why would the pain be better?” Lord Perrin asked. “Do you just want me to suffer? Do you think it’s funny to see a member of the aristocracy in pain?”

“Nah, man,” Lucas shook his head. “I’m just saying that addiction is no laughing matter, and this stuff, well - it’s strong, you know?”

Truthfully, his blue was strong enough to scare him. Lucas had tried a couple of the early versions when he was still perfecting his recipe, and he’d built a pretty good model in his head of exactly how different drugs stacked up.

Brew of Mana Intoxication (ultra pure) (5 doses): Euphoria 12, poison 3, intelligence -1, mana regeneration decreased by 200% for 1 hour.

Heroin on Earth was probably something like a 9 or a 10, depending on who you got it from and how stepped on it was. Cocaine was somewhere below that at like an 8, which made the crystal he used to deal more like a 6.

Blue, though… Once he’d gotten the euphoria over 10, he promised himself he’d never try it again. He’d been in rehab enough to know what it was he could and couldn’t handle. The stuff he’d delivered the the Chimera’s Chalice was only an 8.

It was hard to make anything purer than that in bulk, but this had been meant to try to lure a new patron before everything had gone sideways. Someone like the Viscount but wealthy and powerful instead of bleeding out.

“If that’s what you want, man, but honestly, the stick might be easier…” Lucas said, removing the bottle from his jacket and showing it to the wounded man by starlight.

“Addiction is just a question of willpower, and that is something that a Perrin has never lacked,” the noble insisted.

Lucas hesitated for a moment before saying, “Alright, your funeral. Open up.”

With a shaking hand, Lucas opened the cork stopper of the vial, and careful not to drip any on his hands, he dripped a few drops into the mouth of Lord Parin.

“Is that it?” the man asked. “I think I’ll need more than that for… woah… what’s this then?”

“That is the next twenty minutes of your life being devoured by blissful oblivion,” Lucas said as he laid the man back down on his side to expose the injury. “Enjoy. ”

Then, picking up the knife, he looked at the scabbed, partially healed arrow wound and shuddered.

Ch. 13 - Messy Business

Lucas froze there for a moment, not sure exactly what it was he should do next. No, that wasn’t right. He knew exactly what he needed to do, but he wasn’t really sure he wanted to do it.

He could still bleed out from this, he told himself. You know that, right? Having a knife doesn’t make you a surgeon.

Lucas took a deep breath to calm his beating heart, and then he gave the bolt an experimental tug. He felt the Viscount’s body spasm, but it did not come out on its own.

“Of course not,” Lucas sighed. He’d stitched up a few of his buddies before after they’d gotten beat down before, but other than advanced pharmacology, that was about as deep as his medical skills went.

They’re going to go a whole lot deeper tonight, though, he thought as he brought the knife to the other man’s skin and traced a dark line of blood that looked black in the starlight as he began to cut.

The first thing Lucas did was cut around the shaft, but when that didn’t seem to be enough, he cut a slightly larger x into the flesh to work it free. The bolt came out a few seconds later, and though Lord Parin hadn’t come out of his stupor to scream.

He’d writhed in pain for a moment as Lucas had finally pulled the blood-slick arrow shaft out, but he’d quickly slumped back into his narcotic slumber once that was over. As it stood, he would have been perfectly content to lay there until he bled out, but Lucas wasn’t having that. Not after all the hard work he’d done to keep this asshole alive.

As soon as the bolt was out, he checked to make sure the whole thing had come out and was relieved to see it wasn’t barbed. After that, he tossed it aside, poured the rest of the cure light wound potion in the wound, and started to sew the man up.

While he wasn’t sure a potion would help when used intravenously like that, he was fairly sure it wasn’t going to hurt anything, and for now, that was enough. After another minute, his stitch job was enough to keep the wound closed, but it was an ugly thing, and Lucas was sure that it was going to leave a nasty scar.

Every minute of it was messy and more than a little unnerving, but honestly, he was glad that he’d given in and dosed the Viscount. Lucas wasn’t sure he would have been able to do this to a squirming, screaming man, even if it was for his own good.

Even after that, the man was still bleeding as bad as he’d been at the beginning of the night, though. So, once he was sure that the puncture wound was going to stay closed, he switched to making a sort of compressing bandage out of what he had, which wasn’t much.

“I’d kill for an ace bandage right about now,” he grumbled to himself.

He didn’t have them, though, so instead, he just wound long strips of linen around the unconscious body as many times as he could and used them to tie a big piece of wadded-up tablecloth to the wound, pressing tightly against it to try to stop the bleeding.

It worked, at least to some degree. Lucas could still see some staining on them, of course, but he had no idea if that was from the wound or from his own blood-covered hands.

He was honestly glad it was dark. He could only imagine how covered in blood he was right now, and he didn’t have the stomach for that just now.

Instead, once he’d verified the man was still breathing evenly and that Lord Parin’s pulse felt normal, he cleaned himself up as best he could. “Should have grabbed a snack while I was in your house, man,” he said, looking at the comatose man. “Or some water, at least. I knew I was forgetting something.”

Those words sparked another memory, and he turned to the horse and started rifling through the small saddlebags. Surely, the man on duty had packed a lunch for the quiet night he’d expected rather than the eventful one he’d had, right?

Before he opened the near one, though, the house caught his eye. The lights were on, but Lucas didn’t see any torches anymore. Instead, he saw a group of riders heading back up the main road. It looked smaller, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure about that.

Not that it mattered. Whether they could go back to the house was at least a tomorrow problem, and depending on how things went, it might be a lot further out than that. After all, as far as he was concerned, he’d done his good deed.

He saved me. I saved him. We’re even now, he told himself as he opened the first saddlebag to see if he was going to spend the rest of the night with his stomach growling at him.

It turned out that wasn’t going to be the case. Now that he was doing the right thing, his luck had returned to him.

In the left bag, Lucas found a cloth-wrapped parcel that contained cheese and cold sausage, and the right had a cloak and a jug. Unfortunately, the jug contained sour beer rather than water, but even so, he was happy to drink it as he sat down next to the Viscount, checked the man’s pulse again, and then chowed down on his meager feast.

Lucas did his best to keep a careful watch that night, but after everything he’d been through, that wasn’t to be, and sometime before dawn, when the horizon was just starting to turn blue and hinting at the sunrise to come, he finally passed out against the tree.

His dreams were hectic but unremarkable, and when he woke to the sound of footsteps, he immediately sprang to his feet and drew his bloody knife. “Who goes there!” Lucas called out, peering into the dark woods, expecting goblins or worse.

Fortunately, he was facing the wrong direction, and when someone cleared their throat behind him, Lucas whirled to find the old butler standing there looking smug. “Keeping a sharp lookout, I see,” Gerwin said smugly.

“Yeah, well… Long night,” Lucas said, lowering his weapon and rubbing his eyes.

“Quite,” the older man said, walking forward and depositing a small cloth-covered basket on the roots next to Lord Parin.

“How’s the house, anyway?” Lucas asked belatedly while the butler examined Lord Parin. “Did they give you guys too much trouble?”

“They woke everyone up and caused quite a mess that we are still in the midst of addressing,” the mad answered stuffily, “But they believed our story because I was able to look their mage in the eye and swear that I hadn’t seen my master since he’d been arrested weeks before. Thankfully, he didn’t come in with you. If he had, well…”

“That’s good news!” Lucas beamed, trying to gloss over the unpleasantness of what might have happened. “Now we can put all this behind us and get on with our lives. If you’ll just help me carry Lord Parin back to the house or maybe come back with a wagon, we can—”

He was pretty sure they only got off so lightly because they’d been a noble’s house. From the stories he’d heard, mages had no trouble ripping about people or buildings when they were after something. He just didn’t understand why the crown would pay a mage to hunt for an escaped Viscount. It seemed a little over the top.

“I’m afraid it won’t be that easy,” the butler answered with a shake of his head. “The city watch seems to think it likely that he will return at some point, so they are leaving a few men behind to spring a trap, just in case. ”

“I see…” Lucas said neutrally as he felt his heart sank. He should have known it wasn’t going to be quite so easy.

“So you’re here to take care of him or…” Lucas said hopefully, trying to find his way out of what he knew would happen next.

“I do believe that the guards will notice if house Parin’s head butler goes missing,” the butler said with a shake of his head. “No, you shall be required to take care of Adin a few days longer, I should think. That is why I brought you some supplies, as I shall do each morning when the guards are—”

“Man…” Lucas interrupted. “This is some bullshit. You think I don’t got better things to do? Those guys are after me, too, you know. I need to get as far from here as possible!”

“And you shall, Mr… no, it’s better I don’t know. I don’t want to know should the mage come back looking for you,” Gerwin answered with a shake of his head. “Take care of my mistress’s brother, and when this is all done, you shall be well rewarded. She has promised this herself. For now, she just wishes to make sure he’s safe, and you are the only one in easy reach who can help her with that.”

Lucas grumbled at that but let it go. A few coins would make it easier to get started wherever he ended up next, but more importantly, the smell of freshly baked muffins coming from the basket was driving him crazy.

So, after a few more minutes of idle chatter, where Lucas repeatedly assured him that the Viscount was going to be fine, the man finally left, leaving him alone with his unconscious charge once more.

It’s funny, he thought as he ate the first blueberry muffin he’d had since he’d come to the world. The man obviously has zero confidence in me, but he wants me to stay anyway. It’s almost like he’s not exactly on the Viscount’s side now, is it?

Such accusations weren’t even worth saying. They didn’t even rise to suspicion, really. If he’d wanted to sell them out, he’d had his chance last night.

“He’s just mad that I didn’t obey the proper forms to let Lord Parin die with dignity last night,” Lucas said finally, venting his complaint once his mouth was no longer full.

“Who is,” the Viscount asked weakly.

“Hey, look who’s not dead yet, congrats, man, you made it!” Lucas said, pivoting smoothly to Lord Parin as soon as he showed signs of life.

In the broader scheme, he really didn’t give a shit about the man. His sister seemed earnest and kind, but Lucas got the impression that the Lord himself was too soft to be of much good to anyone, though right now, it was hard to judge him too harshly. Anyone would look like shit after spending a week in a dungeon and a night in the woods while being covered in blood.

“I kind of wish I wasn’t,” Adin whined.

Lucas nodded at that and helped the man drink some of the remaining beer to try to take the edge off. Then he told him the situation as best he understood it. He told the Lord that his house was staked out, so they were stuck out here for a few days and gave up along with every other detail that came to mind.

“So am I going to live?” The Viscount asked.

“I mean, you’ll probably be pissing blood for a week," Lucas answered with a grin, "but with a couple more potions to keep any infection away, you should be just fine.”

“How are we going to get more potions if we’re stuck out here?” the Lord asked. “It could be days before Gerwin comes back out.”

“It’s simple,” Lucas smiled. “We’ll make them ourselves.”

Ch. 14 - Off the Beaten Path

For the next few days, Lucas and his patient were basically stuck roughing it. Deliveries of food occurred once or twice a day, along with frequent supplies of medicinal brandy for the Viscount’s pain. On the third day, when rain threatened, they retreated from their forest camp to an old cottage at the edge of Parin land that had been used for cider production back when their Orchards were large enough to justify such an activity.

From his walks through the woods in search of ingredients for potions, Lucas had long ago figured out that this land had all been cultivated before it had fallen into disrepair. Many of the trees, especially older ones, were in neat rows. As he wandered through them, looking for the right ingredients.

It was odd enough to make him wonder if the story the Viscount had told him about taxes and all the rest might be bullshit. It was clear that despite the beauty of the actual mansion, house Parin had fallen on hard times.

“It happened after my father died,” the Lord confessed to him one night when he was halfway drunk in an attempt to ward off the pain of his injury. “He’d spent too much money on investments that didn’t pay off, and as a result… well, it’s a mess. Let’s leave it at that.”

When Lucas pressed further, he got some nonanswers about gambling. That triggered his bullshit detector, but he didn’t say anything. It’s not like it was his business. He was here to keep the lord breathing, which seemed to be pretty much a sure thing now.

None of that was the reason he left the Viscount by himself most days. Instead, it was the easiest way to ignore his subtle requests for something stronger.

“You know this brandy helps take the edge off; I just wish it had a bit more punch.”

“This pain is almost bearable. Do you think you might be able to help me out?”

“You know, ever since your little surgery, I’ve barely been able to sleep a wink. Do you have anything that might help me out with that?”

Every day, the Viscount found another way to ask him for another hit of Blue without quite asking him. Once, when Lucas came back from a mushroom hunt, he even found the man looking through his things to see if he’d left that little bauble behind.

He hadn’t over course. That was an overdose just waiting to happen. It was basically junkie logic 101.

Lucas had tried to help him where he could. He’d made several potions that weren’t as strong as he would like with the ingredients on hand, but none of those were going to scratch the Viscount’s true craving. The man had tasted heaven, and he wanted more. Lucas understood that only too well.

Tainted Curative (3 doses): endurance 4 (for the purposes of recovery only), poison 2.

Potion of Lethargy (4 doses): Lesser sleep, lethargy (12 hours), poison 1.

He wasn’t anyone’s mother, but he wasn’t going to enable the man either. Even when Adin had come right out and offered to pay for another hit on the fourth day, Lucas had turned him down flat. “It’s your silver man. If you want to buy another dose, I’m happy to sell, but only after you’re well. I didn’t save your life just so you could overdose on my watch.”

“Overdose?” the Viscount laughed. “If there was that danger last time, then why did you let me have it?”

“Don’t try to turn this around, man,” Lucas shot back. “There's a big difference between ‘this dude is about to undergo surgery without anesthesia’ and ‘this guy wants to get high.’”

“What’s Anesthesia?” the Viscount asked with a look of confusion on his face. He was an educated man, and it had been apparent to Lucas for a while that his occasional use of unfamiliar words annoyed the noble. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Exactly,” Lucas said as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

He didn’t really need more herbs at this point, but honestly, he didn’t know what else to do. There weren’t any particularly rare ingredients around here. With his one pan and a campfire set up, he’d already replaced the potions that he’d borrowed from the Parin’s with stuff that was almost as good, and he had enough sagethorn root and silver leaf to make another half dozen if he needed to.

Truthfully, at this point, it was harder to find a good worm-free apple in the woods than any number of useful but common herbs. He’d even seen some redcaps, though he had no need of a new cyanide capsule just now.

That thought was enough to remember the berserker that had almost gotten all of them killed. It was hard to blame for that. Hura’gh wasn’t the one who had rolled the dice with a tainted potion and hoped for the best.

Any average person could take poison one or two without much more than a stomach ache. Lucas knew from personal experience that he could handle up to about four before he was as sick as a dog, but seven? That was the territory strictly reserved for orcs and dwarves. Surviving that sort of thing without liver damage or worse was a coin flip.

This time, as Lucas was lost in thought, he didn’t go into the woods. It was too early for that. The sun had not yet risen sufficiently high to chase away the shadows for his liking.

Instead, he wandered the fallow fields dominated by tall switch grass between the trees and the house. It was afternoon, and he supposed a sharp-eyed guard could theoretically see him, but he didn’t look all that different from the peasant foragers that he’d seen around looking for edible mushrooms, fallen apples, and other tubers.

Lucas didn’t judge them. Everyone had to eat, and in a world without convenience stores, things could get pretty tough. Hunger was a force of nature he’d never known until he’d come here. Not even on the street.

While he strolled to cool off from how much the situation with the Viscount annoyed him, he noted the violet blossoms of witch grass, and he was tempted to take it, but he decided not to. It was only one of five ingredients he needed to make blue, and though he only really needed two other things to turn the vivid flower into a weak mana potion, he didn’t really need one of those either. Maybe if he had some vials, he could make some to sell for some traveling money, but that was a process in itself.

Still, it was hard to waste such a find, and even after he walked past them the first time, he returned and began to pluck them one at a time, just below the head. He would dry them and put them to use later. Whether they turned into gold or silver, leaving the money on the ground just because he was in a funk was wasteful.

Witch Grass Blossoms (raw): Poison 4, mana 3, intelligence 1, maximum mana increased in proportion to soul or int for 6 hours.

He didn’t know much about the stuff, except that witches and other nonmages sometimes used the stuff to curse people and perform other rituals. Most people said it was just a fable and it didn’t actually work, but looking at the stats on the thing, it was hard to believe it didn’t. Some people got worked up enough to deal with the fact that the bitter little things were going to make them as sick as a dog, and they got to pretend to be wizards for a few hours. A few other herbs could be added to increase the effect, but he'd never been tempted to try it.

Lucas didn’t want any part of that, though. The only magic he needed was the kind that jingled in his pockets.

Still, he was only halfway through gathering the little, thumb-sized flowers when she found him. Well, found was putting it too politely. He heard someone moving through the grass, and when she scared the crap out of him.

“Christ, woman… a Lady Parin, don’t sneak up on a guy like that,” he cried out. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be out here with us until the guards left and—”

“They’ve gone,” she cut in cheerily. “You don’t have to call me Lady Parin, by the way. That’s so stuffy. Call me Denaria instead. What’s your name?”

Lucas shrugged at that and smiled back. She was obviously very sweet and had an infectious smile. That made it impossible to be mad at her. “Lucas. Lucas Sharpe and the pleasure is all mine,” he said, smiling a little wider as he suddenly felt self-conscious. “I suppose you’ll want to see your brother, then?”

“In a minute,” she nodded, “But first, I was hoping to learn more about the man that saved him. Gerwin didn’t have many kind things to say about you after you barged into my room and saw me in my… errmmm… underthings, but decorum can hardly be expected when lives are on the line. Truly, he should have given you the medicine you needed without even bothering with me!”

“Well, in your defense, your outfit was a lot closer to a burka than a bikini,” he smiled. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. As to your butler, he was just doing what he had to do in the same way that I was just doing what I had to do. It all worked out okay.”

“True,” she agreed. “Where did you meet Adin? Have you known him long?”

“He was in the cell across from me when I was dragged into the dungeon. That’s all,” Lucas answered. “I knew him perhaps two hours before we busted out of there.”

“So you’re a criminal?” she asked, looking scandalized for the first time in the whole conversation. “What did you do? Nothing too dreadful, I hope!”

“I mean, I didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you’re getting at…” he said before his mind flashed to that guard. Lucas didn’t think he’d killed the guy, but honestly, he wasn’t really sure either way. “At least, I probably didn’t. Regardless. It’s not really my thing. I’m more of a business… err, tradesman, an alchemist, really.”

“An alchemist, then, how interesting,” she smiled. “It was probably just a misunderstanding with the King that led you down this dark road then?”

“Something like that,” he agreed as she looked at the way her gaze studied his purple-stained fingertips. “Let’s just say I was making too much money and got the attention of the wrong people. That’s all.”

“Well, then it only makes sense you’d get locked up in the same cell as my brother,” she said excitedly. “He had much the same dilemma. Something about logging rights or market fees. King Velonian and his tax collectors have certainly been prickly lately. It’s not as if we even have much silver left in the house to satisfy them!”

Lucas noted that her laced trimmed floral outfit and simple silver jewelry probably cost a handful of gold dragons but said nothing. She was too young to worry about these things and too cheerful to have her naive hypocrisy shoved in her face. Instead, he just answered questions about different flowers as they made their way to the tiny cabin where her brother was sleeping.

This one could be used in potions of speed, that one was poisonous, but you could mill the seeds for lamp oil, and this pretty pink one just smelled nice. She was very impressed that he knew the name of every plant she pointed at, but given that it appeared as a pop-up that only he could see, it wasn’t anything special. He was just reading off a cheat sheet.

When they reached the tiny cider house, Lucas wasn’t surprised to find that Lord Parin had gone through his shit again. This time, he’d downed the entire bottle of the potion of lethargy, which meant that he was going to be out like a light for hours.

“As you can see, he still needs time to uhmm… recover, but I think that given enough time, he’ll be fine,” Lucas said, trying not to curse the rat fuck out and make him look even worse in front of his sister. “But I’ve done everything I can, so there’s no reason I can’t just get on the road now and—”

“Oh, please, you must stay,” Denaria insisted. “At least until we’ve had a proper feast to thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Really, I appreciate it, but the longer I stick around, the more trouble I’ll…” he answered. Those protests died on his lips as she began to pout, though, and finally, he said, “Fine, but just one more day, and then I really have to be going.”

Ch. 15 - Last Supper

Lucas spent the rest of the day imagining a grand feast laid out for them, and once the Viscount arose, he explained to him the plan. Unfortunately, Gerwin forbade a grand feast in the house. He said it would be too risky. “If all the servants find out Lord Parin is back, it won’t be long before the guard knows it too!”

He was right, of course. Lucas didn’t try to argue that, especially not when he found out they’d still be served a lovely dinner in the barn.

The Viscount protested that they served their guest in such a miserable place, but nobody paid him much mind at this point. His servant ignored him because the old man obviously knew better. His sister ignored him because she was still concerned about the extent of his injuries, but Lucas ignored him more than the other two combined because he could see that Lord Parin was going downhill fast.

Not healthwise. In terms of healing, the man was almost completely out of the danger zone. He could get up and walk around, and he no longer needed Lucas to be his nursemaid.

Unfortunately, that made him more of a pest than ever, and the lord spent the remainder of that afternoon and the following morning pestering Lucas as he wandered around the grounds. Sometimes, it wasn’t so bad when he told him stories about the area or shared some gossip about their neighbors, but inevitably, the conversation always returned to drugs.

“I’m better now,” the man insisted. “You said so yourself. So if I had my manservant Gerwin fetch a few silver, perhaps I could—”

“I don’t think he intends on listening to a single order you give him until your name is cleared,” Lucas interrupted, dodging the topic. “He’s more like your sister’s servant these days, no offense.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, a few silvers from the Parin coffers are almost as easily replaced as they are obtained,” the man continued, “and another dose of your little miracle drug should go a long way toward—”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Lucas asked, suddenly spinning around and pointing his finger in the other man’s face. “One fucking hit, and now you’re down so bad you’re practically begging. That’s pretty weak. Honestly, I’ve seen professional junkies hold up better than you. Get a hold of yourself.”

He hadn’t, actually. What Lucas saw in the disheveled appearance of Lord Parin was pretty much par for the course. He could practically see himself in the man’s shoes back when he’d been hooked on smack, but the man had appearances to keep up, and so he was hoping that pride would be a useful pressure point.

In this case, it turned out that it actually was. Instead of arguing back, as he’d obviously planned to do, the noble crumpled like a cheap suit. “God’s, you're right,” he agreed. “I know I shouldn’t, but I… it haunts my dreams, you know? Part of my mind tells me that just one more taste of heaven would fix that, but it would just make things worse, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Lucas agreed. “But if you give it time, that urge will get weaker, and by the time this whole thing with the prince blows over, you won’t even miss it at all.”

“But that’s never going to blow over without money, is it?” Lord Parin asked, picking up a branch and swinging it in frustration. “It’s like you said; we need to make more of your fabulous potion and start selling it. I know more than a few dilettantes that would be eager enough to—”

“Adin, no one ever told you this before, so I don’t blame you for not knowing, but there’s one simple, ironclad rule to this game is: ‘Never get high on your own supply,’” Lucas said with a shake of his head. “And right now, if I got all the equipment and set up an operation, there’s no way I could trust you to stay clean.”

“I can,” the noble said earnestly, in a voice that was very nearly pleading. “Maybe if you were to give me a watered-down version to ween me off, I could…”

“See what I mean?” Lucas laughed coldly, but it was for effect. “The first time I turned my back, you’d be dead in a ditch.”

He’d done what he’d done, both here and on Earth to get by, but there was a difference between knowing the damage he was doing and seeing it firsthand. He’d been making a point not to get too cozy with addicts for years now, and this was why.

“I wouldn’t,” Lord Parin said, shaking his head from side to side, “I wouldn’t…”

His words trailed off as they heard the sounds of someone approaching. His sister had managed to get almost all the way to them before either of them had noticed she was there. The sun was setting now and hanging low in red in the sky; it had blinded them in that direction. It occurred to him only after the

“Wouldn’t what?” she asked sweetly.

This time, she was wearing a somewhat subdued forest green dress with what looked to be riding boots. For a second, Lucas wondered if this was her version of being incognito or dressing for a stroke through the wilderness, but was quickly distracted by such adorable thoughts when her brother quickly answered, “Would never betray you! I was just letting our guest Lucas know that he could stay here without fear as long as he wanted.”

“I should hope not, dear brother,” she smiled. “That man saved your life, and the gods damn those who treat their guests poorly.”

“What can we do for you?” Lucas said, trying not to roll his eyes.

“I just came to tell you that our little dinner, simple as it might be, has been served,” she said with a mock bow and a stern imitation of her serious manservant, but halfway through, she folded and ended up laughing all the to the barn with the two of them in tow.

Lucas had been expecting some cold cuts or maybe some leftovers, but instead, there was a full three-course meal waiting for them in there, complete with wine. Someone had even moved a table large enough for four in there and set it just like the main table Lucas had so recently pilfered.

“Wow,” he said, checking out the roast and the rest of the food, “I’m impressed. You’ve outdone yourself, Jeeves!” Lucas exclaimed.

“Gerwin,” the man said stiffly, standing at one end of the table with his mistress’s seat pulled partway out, “but you can call me sir.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas said, sitting down at the opposite end of the table. “Jeeves is a term of respect for servants where I come from. It’s like Alfred, but you know, classier.”

“I see…” the butler said, even though he obviously didn’t. Instead, he sidestepped the conversation and began to serve everyone the first course of salad and dinner rolls.

Lucas dug in immediately. It was good, and so was the squash soup and the pork roast that followed it. It wasn't as good as the ribs at the chop house he’d been frequenting in the meat packing district since he’d started turning a steady profit on his blue, but it was not something he’d ever turn down either.

He left the two Parin siblings to dominate the conversation as they caught up on all that had happened. Adin complained about the cell, the dank conditions, and even the fact that he was home but couldn’t sleep in his own bed. His sister, on the other hand, asked questions about what could be done to fix the situation, but to Lucas, most of the answers that the Viscount gave his sister sounded like bullshit to him.

“I’ve already sent a letter to the magistrate, but I will send another one promptly,” he assured her. “Even though the King should never have been able to take our herds for grazing on the common, the very fact that he’s done so means that we are owed compensation! Between their value and the damages I expect we shall receive, that should be more than enough dragons to clear even our father’s ferocious debts.”

The butler said nothing, but even as Denaria opened her mouth to dispute some part of that, Lucas noticed that the man raised an eyebrow at some part of what the Viscount had said. That didn’t surprise Lucas. The way the man’s story was slowly shifting back and forth certainly seemed to indicate that there were larger things in play here. At the very least, Lord Parin was downplaying them, and worst… well, that wasn’t Lucas’s problem.

Tomorrow, he'd be in the wind. He wished this lovely but dysfunctional family the best, but it wasn’t his problem. At least it wasn’t supposed to be.

“...and if that isn’t enough coins to settle the tax debts, then… Lucas and I will go into business making healing potions to pay off the difference.”

“You will?” Denaria asked with a growing smile.

“We will?” Lucas asked in complete confusion. “I was actually—” He’d tuned out of the conversation for a moment, but he had no idea how things could have gotten to this point.

“We will,” Lord Parin answered in a tone of self-assured finality that made Lucas want to punch him in the nose.

“Why, that’s wonderful news!” Denaria said, fixing Lucas with her beautiful green eyes, “Thank you so much for agreeing to help us with this, Mister Sharpe. We really do appreciate it.”

“I…your brother and I still have some things to work out, and we weren’t supposed to talk about it yet,” Lucas said through gritted teeth. “I have other commitments and…”

“All of that will be worked out,” the noble said with a dismissive gesture that made Lucas’s blood boil even more. As far as he was concerned, this was a conversion that was going to be settled by fists at this point, so he busied himself, stuffing his face with the last of his roast so that he didn’t start cursing up a storm. His fury was building, though, and even Denaria’s unexpected hug when he’d finished and was leaving failed to quell it entirely.

Instead, it just continued to slowly grow, and when Lord Perrin opened his fat mouth to explain when they were nearly at their dilapidated cottage.

“Listen, I know we were still talking around the edges of this, but my sister, she— Ahh! Lucas, what in the pits?” he cried out as Lucas punched him in the mouth without any warning.

“She honestly might be better off without an asshole like you in her life,” Lucas said, shaking his hand to try to get rid of the sting. “I’m not staying. I have no plans to stay, and your problems got nothin’ to do with me, alright?”

“No,” Lord Parin agreed, “But they’re a lot worse than I told my sister. Even before the prince had me locked up, we were tethering on the edge of bankruptcy, and now this. We need your help—”

This time, Lucas didn’t punch him in the mouth. He punched the noble as hard as he could in the stomach, doubling the man over and making him wretch. It was a low blow after such a big meal, but he didn’t care.

“You know I’m beginning to see the pattern of behavior in your little sob stories, Adin,” Lucas said, shaking his head in disgust. “And the pattern is, you have no idea what the fuck’s going on, do you? Why would I even work with you? You’ve got no knowledge, no skills, almost no capital to speak of, and you’re already fiending? You’re about the worst possible choice I could imagine.”

“I… I can learn, and I have a place…” he gasped. Lucas raised his fist again, but when the man finished talking, he paused. “Please. This isn’t about the blue. We don’t even have to make it, but you’ve already made half a dozen healing potions with nothing but a cooking pot and the things you found on the ground. If you could just show me how, then I could…”

The man flinched, but Lucas’s blow never landed. Instead, he sighed and said, you know what? It’s too late for this shit. I’m going to sleep on it. If I’m still here in the morning, well, that’s your answer.”

The Viscount kept talking, but Lucas just waved him off, went into the cider house, and laid down on his bed. Right now, he was completely over it.

Ch. 16 - Getting Started

Lucas lay in his bed for hours that night, trying to decide what he should do here, even after the asshole that was getting him roped deeper and deeper into this strange predicament started snoring heavily from the other side of the room, and Lucas knew he could easily grab the horse and bounce, he just lay there with his hands behind his head and stared at the shabby roof above his head.

The first day they were in here, he’d covered the holes with bundles of weeds since he didn’t have any straw, so it was mostly weatherproof now, but even so, it was a dingy little place. It must have been nice once, though. There were bunks for a dozen workmen storage places for apples. There were even fermenting bins and apple presses, though they’d long since rusted solid.

He didn’t imagine that cider sold for much, of course, but with this many trees, they could put it in kegs, ferment it, and then freeze the water out of it in the winter, turning it into a poor man’s whiskey. Honestly - that by itself would have been a perfectly good business model, Lucas thought to himself.

Given just how spineless the Viscount was shaping up to be, Lucas no longer had any idea of what to believe about his hardships. If Lucas had inherited vast wealth and an honest-to-god apple orchard, he… honestly probably would have fucked it up too, he realized. It had been a while since the angel had played ‘This is your Life’ with him, but it was still too recent for him to lie to himself about such things. There was the better part of a decade where he would have gladly sold everything that wasn’t nailed down for one more high.

He sighed. Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

Sleep eventually came for Lucas, but it was restless, and there were no prophetic dreams to give him the right answer. In the morning, he was left with the same dilemma and the same snoring. So, he decided to do something about both at once.

It was only sunrise, but he got dressed in the dark, and then, grabbing the pot he’d been using to brew things in, he went to the river and gathered some nice cold water. Then, with that in hand, he gave his little lordling an especially icy wake-up call.

The man bolted upright, gasping from sudden shock. To his credit, he didn’t actually scream like a girl, but Lucas was sure that if he hadn’t been standing there with a sour expression, then Adin would have done just that.

“By the stars, man, why would you do that?” the noble gasped.

“I tried to wake you up a couple of times by… let's call them more traditional means, but you weren’t budging.” Lucas lied. “Now come on, get up - we got shit to do.”

“We have what?” Adin yawned. “The sun has barely risen. What could we possibly have to do.”

“Well, that depends,” Lucas said theatrically, extending a finger for each choice he laid out. “Either you can go back to bed, and I can get on my horse and ride out of this berg before the guard catches me, or you get your ass in gear, and we can see how serious you are about cooking.”

“Cooking?” the noble asked uncomprehendingly.

“Cooking. Alchemy. Slinging potions!” Lucas exclaimed in annoyance. “Come on, man, what are we doing here? You going to get busy living or get busy dying? I ain’t got all day.”

This, at least, was enough to get the noble up and moving. Without another word of complaint, the man changed into something a little dryer and got his boots on. Then, after they gathered some sacks, baskets, and knives, they were off.

They didn’t take the horse for two very good reasons. The first was that even with its barding removed, it still had a city brand, and that might be noticed by any number of keen-eyed observers. The second reason was more practical: the Greenwood wasn’t so far from here, but it would be even closer if they cut through Parin’s overgrown orchard and the fields beyond. There was only one field between the orchard and the road and only two more beyond that to the woods proper.

Strictly speaking, they didn’t really need to go there, but Lucas had no interest in taking it easy on this prick. If he wanted to start an alchemy business, then Lucas was going to watch him sweat and see how the man did.

Even that wasn’t going to be enough to make him stick around more than a few more days, of course. Teaching the lordling how to cook up blue would just be murder with extra steps.

But teaching him a couple of ways to make some healing potions might be enough of a lifeline that the man could save his sister’s house and maybe find a way to buy himself out of the jam he was in. At a couple of silvers a pop, it would probably take him years, but peddling his wares on the corner for that long would probably teach the man a little humility, too, and Lucas thought that would be a fine side effect.

So, while they walked, Lucas picked a couple basic lesser healing potion recipes that he’d used before with ingredients that should be fairly common in this area for two or three seasons a year, and he made Adin repeat them all the way there.

“Silver leaf, Sagethorn root, water,” he repeated dutifully as they crossed over the road. “And if I can’t find those, I can make something that’s almost as good with pure spirits, ground elderberry seeds, bark from a rosewood tree, and—”

“No, not just any bark from the Rosewood tree!” Lucas interrupted. “What kind of bark did I say specifically?”

“The umm… I don’t remember,” Adin snapped in frustration. “You said I needed to take the bark and boil it in spirits and—”

“Well, if you take the bark off one of those trees and boil it like that, then congratulations, you just made rat poison,” Lucas sighed. “The brown bark is old. It has zero healing properties. You have to peel that off first to get at the red bark on the inside, and then you use the alcohol to leach out the poison.”

“If it has poison in it, then why would you use it in healing potions anyway?” Adin asked. “Couldn’t we just… I don’t know, tap the sap and make a healing potion that way?”

“The sap?” Lucas laughed. “You think just because it’s part of the same plant, it will have the same properties? Man - you’re going to do some serious damage with shit like that.”

“Well, why not?” Adin asked, obviously annoyed now. “If the uttermost bark is poisonous, and the inner bark is poisonous and healing, then the sap or the heartwood should just be healing, right?”

Lucas sighed. “The leaves of the tree don’t do anything, but I hear if you’re starving, they’re edible. The seeds taste kind of weird, but some bakers like to sprinkle them on top of freshly baked bread for the color and the bark… well, we talked about that. The sap, though… let’s say it’s used in a sort of love potion, which is not what we’re looking for today.”

“Why not?” the lordling asked, suddenly intrigued. “I’d think a love potion could sell for a hell of a lot more than some lesser healing potions.”

“Listen, Viagra takes a lot more ingredients than distilled Rosewood sap,” Lucas shook his head. “Some of them have to be imported. No, that’s a story for another day.”

The Viscount looked at him with annoyance for a bit but eventually dropped the subject and went back to repeating the formulas that Lucas had given him until he could say them on command without screwing them up.

After that, Lucas added a couple of other items to their shopping list and started describing the plants to the other man in detail. In the Greenwood, most of them wouldn’t be hard to find exactly. In fact, he’d chosen these two recipes specifically because the reagents that were needed for them were both common and visible.

As much fun as it would have been to make the man figure out the difference between a Scarlet Lionsmane and a Red Spotted Trumpet Cap, the man would almost certainly end up killing someone on accident when he mixed those up. Lucas didn’t need that on his conscience. They weren’t picking up any mushrooms today,

Well, not unless I see a few truffles lying around, he corrected himself. Because those are damn good.

Truthfully, he might pick some wizened gnome caps if he found them, too. They were another ingredient he needed for blue. Really, he was sure he could find everything he needed to make the drug on their trip today, except for the sour dwarf berries, but those were cheap enough to buy at the market. If he were to just swing by his little dive on the way home and pick his glassware back up, he’d be able to go back in business by this evening.

That was too risky, though, and not at all what he'd planned for the day. Going anywhere near Lordanin until the heat had died down seemed like a terrible idea.

So they spent the day picking leaves, digging up roots, and scraping bark off of trees. Every time the lordling complained about the hard work, Lucas would laugh. “You want to quit now? Just say the word, man. Just say the word, and we’ll go right home right now.”

He didn’t give up, though, which was not what Lucas had expected. Not when their water skin ran dry while the sun was high in the sky, and not when he pricked himself for the tenth time on the painful Sagethorn plant.

“That’s why it’s called a Sagethorn, you know,” Lucan shared. “Because after you get stuck once, you’re supposed to be wise enough never to let that happen again.”

Adin looked at him sullenly but said nothing. Instead, he continued to fill the baskets with their primary ingredients, and Lucas just kept letting him, even when they had far more than enough Elderberries. Despite the risk of goblin attacks slowly increasing as they inched toward sunset, Lucas stayed until the red light dimmed and the forest canopy dimmed, just to give the Viscount one more reason to quit.

Goblins definitely put the fear in me the first time I was ambushed, Lucas thought to himself. That didn’t happen, though, and instead, they made their way back, chatting quietly as they went.

“Isn’t this too much stuff?” Adin asked, sweating under his load as they got close to home.

“It depends on how many times you fuck up,” Lucas said casually. “I could probably make close to a hundred doses out of all of this stuff, but you… We’ll be lucky to get half that.”

“What the hell are we going to do with 50 healing potions, though?” Adin protested. “That still seems a little… excessive.”

“Why, we’re going to sell them, of course,” Lucas said with a sarcastic smile.  “A reputable shop might charge five silvers for a blend like this or even ten for something stronger. Since we are hardly reputable, we’ll probably only get a silver or two, but hey - that’s life.”

“That’s still at least five golden dragons,” Adin said, starting to smile as he saw the bigger picture. “That’s a hell of a lot of coin for a day’s work.”

“A day’s work?” Lucas laughed doing some quick math in his head. “Man, we’re barely getting started. And after buying all the things we need… it’s going to be more like two or three gold pieces for a week's worth of work, but still pretty good money, right?”

A golden dragon was 20 silver kings, and each of those was 20 copper with a crudely stamped bushel basket on them.

Ch. 17 - A Day's Wage

The next morning, Lucas watched the pot that was supposed to be simmering boil over with red froth for the third time that morning. He laughed at that and reflected that this would have been a pretty good way to make a living if the noble who was trying and failing to be his partner could actually make even a simple potion.

A pound of herbs and other components boiling away in two different pots and then combined was enough for at least twelve lesser healing potions. At least that would be true if Adin wasn't spilling half of it.

Sold for two silvers a pop, minus a couple coppers for the vials, which they’d have to start buying in bulk, they’d still be getting paid ten times more than a mason or a cobbler. Hell - they’d be getting twice as much as a physiker and slightly more than a goldsmith… each.

“That’s the good stuff right there,” Lucas said as Adin panicked. “You’re ruining it. Take it off the heat!”

Adin scrambled, almost burning himself in the process, but he moved the pot off the heat enough that it stopped boiling just as the smell of burning started to come from the pan with the rosewood bark.

“Careful, you need to add more water, or you’re going to burn the whole place down!” Lucas cried theatrically.

“This impossible! Why aren’t you helping?” the lordling complained. “There’s too many things going on for just one person!”

As much fun as he’d been having as he watched Adin screw up, though, he had to admit that the sheer amount of mats going to waste for this farce was starting to get on his nerves. The only useful thing the man had done all day was dispatch a servant to town with a shopping list for bottles, alcohol, salt, corks, and a handful of other sundries they were going to need.

While doing this on a metal grate over a burned-down campfire using battered cookware was hardly ideal, it was still better than Lucas’s first setup had been and almost as good as the one he used to cook blue now, so that was hardly an excuse.

“I’ll show you how it’s done next batch,” Lucas said, eying the stat window for each of the ingredients and deciding they were mostly okay. This would definitely be a tainted potion, but it would still do more good than harm.

“Alright, pour them through the sieve and into the cauldron, and we’ll fish the burned bits out as best we can,” Lucas said finally. He noted the gray color and marked this batch down to one silver instead of two. It was medicine for the desperate, not a cure for the poor.

Some small part of his mind told him that this wouldn’t be so bad, though. Sure, he’d make ten times less than he would brewing a nice big batch of blue, but he wouldn’t be making addicts or trading off human misery. Lucas started doing the math on how long it would take him to open his Mexican food-equipped inn on half a dragon a day when Adin interrupted him by yelping in pain as he burned himself.

Lucas shook his head. “Fortunately for you, we got just the thing to take care of that,” he said, ladling a little of the steaming brew into a wooden bowl and noting the ugly ashen color that only had a few strains of oily pink on it. “Congratulations, my Lord - you’ve made your first potion. It’s terrible.”

Alchemical Healing Mixture (18 doses): Healing 3, poison 2, endurance -1.

The Viscount balked at that. At first, he tried to defend his efforts. “If it works even a little, then I’d say it was pretty good for a first-timer!” he declared.

After that, he continued to protest loudly and proceeded to give Lucas a whole litany of excuses. Lucas didn’t pay much attention to any of that, though. Instead, he got to work and nodded periodically and said “uhuh” or “whatever” when it sounded appropriate as he prepared his own ingredients to show the man who had just failed so colossally under his instruction.

He started with the bark. Once it was good and ground up in the mortar and pestle, he left that to soak in cold spirits. The stuff they were using now was too expensive, and something like that would cut into their profit margin in the long term, but Lucas had no intention of staying long enough to build a still and teach the Viscount how to make vodka from kitchen scraps.

After that, he started to prepare the berries, cutting them open one at a time to get to the pits. As was the case with most alchemical tasks, it was tedious and simple, but he didn’t mind.

“Why are you saving the berry flesh anyway?” Adin asked. “You said it’s not used in the recipe. Are we saving them for another potion or…”

“Yeah, it’s called jam, and it’s the bomb,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “It’s a little sugar, a lot of berries, and some time, but I’ll work on that later.”

“Why would you spend your time making jam when you could be making potions of healing or strength or even…” Adin’s words trailed off before he brought up the forbidden word again. Blue. It was never far from the man’s mind. ‘Why would you be making literally anything else when you could be making me my fix?’ Lucas heard the words, even if the man didn’t actually say them.

“Because it’s fucking delicious,” Lucas sighed. “Because as much as your region gets right, it gets a lot of shit wrong. Like - you don’t even have hot sauce, man. That’s just one more thing I gotta change when I find the right peppers.”

“What? There are many hot sauces. The pork we had last night was served with a hot port reduction that—” the lordling volunteered.

“That ain’t even close to the same thing,” Lucas grumbled. “You’ll see. Now go scour these pots with sand before you ruin my cook. You burn it, you clean it.”

All through the conversation, and even after Adin left to do his chores, Lucas kept working. He cut berries ground pits, and when all was in readiness by the time his mostly clean pots returned to him, he began to drain the now toxic spirits from the bark and boiled the two ingredients separately at different temperatures as he watched the stats of both fluctuate.

Elderberry Seeds (processed): Healing 2, mana 1, poison 1, intelligence -1

Rosewood inner tree bark (leached): Healing 2, poison 1, endurance 1, intelligence -1

Theoretically, Lucas could have just boiled them together into one pot, but that wouldn’t have given him the same level of control. One of the reasons his concoctions were so much cheaper and simpler than traditional formulas was because he could see exactly what was changing in real-time. They just had to pile in tons of other ingredients and boil them all down until they each contributed only a little bit of healing to the final product.

Rosewood inner tree bark (leached): Healing 3, poison 1, endurance 1

He could do better, though. He could watch the lesser contributors fall away one at a time, slowly increasing the major attribute as he boiled it down.

Rosewood inner tree bark (leached): Healing 2, endurance 1

Lucas frowned as the canceled poison counteracted some of the healing. That happened sometimes and was frankly better than the alternative.

Truthfully he still only understood how this works in the broadest of strokes. He didn’t attend alchemist school, or study under a master. Apparently the body he occupied was going to be a chef before the pox had taken him. He knew a few mechanics, though, like using alcohol to purify toxins, or boiling something enhance the main property at the expense of the minor ones. There was a strange sort of logic to it.

Through all of this, he never once let either pot boil over. In fact, he made his minion stoke the fire and add a little more wood, and when he was finally ready, he strained and combined the two into a separate pot and set them aside to simmer.

Alchemical Healing Mixture (25 doses): Healing 5, poison 1, endurance 1. Those who imbibe have a 10% chance of nausea for one hour.

It wasn’t perfect, but Lucas chalked that up to using pans that had not been scrubbed sufficiently. That was his fault. He’d seen the residue, but he’d been in too much of a hurry to go and to it himself. By the time it cooled, though, he knew that it would be a pleasant red-pink and that plenty of people would be happy to buy it at a cut-rate price. Honestly, they could probably dilute with some water and add a little elderberry juice color and get nearly the same price.

The purpose of this exercise wasn’t to scam to make more money, though. It was to show off and demonstrate to Lord Parin that he was in no way ready for this.

So, he filled up two small vials when the servant finally came back from town with his shopping list, and Gerwin brought them out to the cider house.

Small Tainted Lesser Healing Potion (1 dose): Weak healing, poison 2, endurance -1

Small Tainted Lesser Healing Potion (1 dose): Lesser healing, poison 1, endurance 1, those who imbibe have a 10% chance of nausea for one hour

“See,” Lucas said, holding them both up to show off the obvious differences between both to the Lord and his manservant. “Which of these is worth two silver, and which of these should be fed to the pigs, huh?”

“Well, you said they’d both heal, right?” The Viscount asked. “Sooo…”

“I wouldn’t drink the gray one if you paid me two silver,” Gerwin said, cracking a rare smile.

“Exactly!” Lucas said, trying and failing to give the man a fist bump. “He gets it. This is why you can’t be an alchemist Adin - you suck at it, to be honest.”

“I know that,” the Lord admitted. “But you don’t. You’re great at this; if you did all the work, we could—”

“There is no I in we, asshole,” Lucas said, cutting him off. “I paid my debts. I saved your life and gave this little experiment a go, but there’s no team if you bring nothing to the table, is there?”

The butler excused himself from that uncomfortable silence without a word, and when Lucas realized he might have been a little too harsh, he added, “But hey - look on the bright side, at least you’ll get a bunch of healing potions out of the deal, because I sure as hell ain't taking all of this with me. You can sell that shit and make some coin.”

“Where will you go?” the Viscount asked in a tone that was almost pleading. “Where will you find a better deal than this. Here, you already have a lab and someone to help you and watch your back…”

Anywhere there’s someone less annoying than you, honestly, Lucas thought. Reflecting on how much he’d soured on the man after just a few days.

He didn’t say that, though. As exhausting as he found it talking to the spoiled noble, he didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings more than he had to. Instead, Lucas just shrugged and said, “Who knows. I’ll go wherever the road takes me and find somewhere nice to settle down.”

Truthfully, there weren’t a lot of places nicer than Lordanin; that’s why he’d come here from the little town in the middle of nowhere he’d started out in. Well, that and to escape the endless rumors that he was a zombie.

He and Adin worked the rest of the day in relative silence. Eventually, Lucas mixed the two mixtures together and added a little fruit juice for color, creating something that was probably better and safer for whoever ended up drinking it.

Adulterated Lesser Healing Potion (2 doses): Weak healing, poison 1, endurance -1, tart, those who imbibe have a 5% chance of nausea for one hour

It was only once that was done, and they’d filled 21 vials with a deep red healing potion, that he finally turned to Adin and asked, “Well, you want to learn how to make it the other way now, or are you good?”

The noble just glared at him, but that did nothing to stop Lucas’s smile.

Ch. 18 - One Last Thing

That night, when Denaria visited them, Lucas was the one to break the news to her that he wouldn’t be staying after all because her brother was too chicken shit to do it himself. She was crestfallen, and though Lucas thought that such an emotion would show itself in a self-centered sort of way like her brother’s had, she only seemed concerned with his well-being.

“Well… you be safe on the high road, okay?” she cautioned him. “I’ve heard it from the ladies in my sewing circle that there’s been a lot of bandit activity this season. Maybe find a caravan you can travel along with to make sure no one decides you look like easy pickings, alright?”

The spoiled young 19-year-old was always cute, but she was doubly so when she talked to him like she was the voice of experience and wisdom to a guy like him. He kept his sarcastic comments to himself, though, and promised that he’d do just that.

They talked a little while after that, and she expressed some concerns about his brother. “I’m sure he’ll land on his feet somehow,” she said in a tone of barely repressed exasperation. “He always seems to somehow.”

Lucas wanted to dig further into that, but he left it alone, and eventually, after they finished discussing the two different color healing potions, and she went off on how she much preferred the pink Sagethorn root blend to the red Elderberry one, she left him sitting there on the porch alone in the gathering dark.

Later, Gerwin came to fetch Lucas and asked, “It would seem that the Viscount had gotten himself a touch too inebriated in the barn this evening. Since no one else is supposed to know of his presence, could I impose on you to help me fetch him and bring him back here so he can sleep it off?”

“Sure, Jeeves. Happy to help,” Lucas said.

It was even true, but only because he welcomed any distraction from what was going on in his head right now because some small part of him was conflicted. Yesterday, he’d been like ninety-nine percent sure that he should bounce, but today it was only like seventy-five percent.

Leaving would fix a lot of problems, but it would create some new risks and deny him the chance to fuck up Brog or the Guard Captain for the way they’d treated him. There was also this whole mess with house Parin. It wasn’t exactly his problem, of course, but he knew he wasn’t getting the full story.

“Listen, Gerwin, I want to apologize for the night we met,” he said finally, breaking the silence and doing his best to butter the old guy up for what was coming next.

“That’s quite alright, Mister Sharpe,” Gerwin nodded slowly as he walked with his hands behind his back. “It was an emergency; these things happen. All that matters is that it’s ended well.”

“Has it, though?” Lucas responded. “Because… and you tell me if I’m out of line here, I get the sense that you thought that your mistress was better off with her brother removed from the equation.”

“Out of line,” the old man said, pausing there in the middle of the darkened field they were traipsing through to reach the barn. “But unfortunately, quite correct. Even if he manages to evade arrest, his impacts on the family can be quite… Chaotic.”

“Hey, every family’s got one,” Lucas nodded. “But the way Adin told it, it was his dad that fucked everything up, and all this was just a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, the former Lord Parin was many things, but at least he ensured that his daughter’s marriage prospects were well provided for; sadly, her brother’s efforts to regain the family fortune will make that quite impossible, I would think.”

“Wait, is that for financial reasons, or more like… reputation?” Lucas asked as his stomach started to sink. “What are we talking about here?”

“I’m afraid I’ve said too much already,” the old man said with a stiff expression. “Let’s focus on retrieving the Parin’s prodigal son for now, and then tomorrow, you can be on your way.”

Lucas nodded at that, and together with a wheelbarrow, they were able to make light work of the drunk man. He’d gotten fresh clothes the other day to replace the bloody ones he’d been wearing when he arrived, but these were halfway to ruin as well and looked no better than the raggedy outfit that Lucas wore.

After the Viscount was dumped into bed, Lucas spent several hours convincing himself that none of this was his problem and several more trying to decide where to go next. Niv and Heinen weren’t supposed to be so far away.

Both would be large enough to guarantee a certain type of clientele. The reputation of the former said that he’d almost certainly end up paying one of the rival gangs some kind of protection racket, and the latter, being so full of non-humans… Well, he didn’t know how blue would react to a gnome or a dwarf. He knew for a fact that slants and half-orcs liked it well enough, but other customers… well, he might have to do a little reformulation. Time would tell.

In the morning, Lucas decided to enjoy a little of the Elderberry jam he’d made yesterday once they’d finished knocking out the potions. It was good on cold bread but not as good as it would have been if the primitive people of this world would invent a damn toaster.

Once that was done, he loaded his saddlebags with his meager supplies and said goodbye to a hungover Aidan, who waved him off. Then mounted up and said goodbye to the Parin household. All that went according to plan. After that, though, he deviated almost immediately.

What I really should do is stop by my place and grab my notes, he told himself as he veered back toward the Greenwood. That wasn’t where he was going through, some little voice in his head told him that Lordanin wasn’t safe for him yet.

He’d learned to trust that little voice, of course, but since it wasn’t saying shit about the Greenwood, he figured he’d better stop by and grab more supplies. After all, the biggest threat to any of his plans wasn’t the legal climate or gang politics. It was what he could find locally and how much it would cost him to import everything else.

It was Lucas’s understanding that none of the ingredients were especially rare. Witchgrass blossoms could only be harvested seasonally, but it was a weed found in or around most wheat fields. Wizened Gnome Caps were wrinkly gray mushrooms that looked like brains to Lucas; they were hallucinogenic on their own, but they were found on fallen trees anywhere where it rained often enough to make them sprout. That just left the dwarf berries, which were cultivated widely but only near dwarvish settlements, goblin bile, and Blue Esper Willow sap.

Technically, he didn’t need all four ingredients and the catalyst, but just two would produce something hopelessly mild, and three - well… no one was going to write home or tell their friends about a high that was missing goblin bile or Wizened Gnome Caps. Hell, he could probably find ways to make his blue even stronger; he just didn't really need to. A euphoria rating of 10 or 12 was about as high as he thought most people could stand anyway.

So, instead of getting on the road and heading east, he headed to the area of the Greenwood where he’d had the best luck with willows in the past. He already had some of the other two tough ingredients, after all, and he could kill goblins or pay someone else to do it pretty much wherever. They were a universal pest.

In fact, they were so common that he hadn’t been at all surprised to see goblin shit on his last foraging run the other day with Adin. This trip, though, he was a little more concerned, not only were the tracks he saw fresher, but it was still early enough that he might run into…

Even as Lucas had that thought, he heard the sound of a branch breaking underfoot not so far away. He tensed for a moment while he harvested the vine he was after, but he forced himself to keep moving and act natural.

Goblins were weak, cowardly hunters, and as long as one thought it was undetected, it would try its best to get as close as it could before it struck. So Lucas moved and hummed to himself like he didn’t have a care in the world, but he’d already reversed his grip on his knife, and as soon as he could stand the tension no longer, he lasted out at however many of them were sneaking toward him with the vine he’d been gathering.

Blue Esper Willows weren’t a species of tree; they were a willow that had been colonized by parasitic vines. They could eat other trees too, but depending on the tree it feasted on, the sap would have different properties, and Blue Esper Vines were by far the most toxic, which suited his purposes.

Not that it spat acid and was usable as a weapon or anything. The stupid goblins didn’t know that, though, and all three of them scattered widely, giving him a chance to breathe.

Lucas didn’t hesitate. He walked toward the first one and kicked it hard enough to send it bouncing across the clearing. The second one raised his spear but wasn’t fast enough to stop Lucas from plunging his knife into the thing’s skull.

He let go of the blade and grabbed the goblin’s ugly spear as its grip loosened, and turned to face the final attacker. This one was cagier and made a few half-hearted thrusts as it yapped and growled at him in its ugly, guttural language. Lucas ignored that and focused on the thing’s weapon. It was just a crooked spear with a knapped stone point, but he was sure it would still be enough to murder him if it got him somewhere vital.

They went round and round like that for a moment, but ultimately, Lucas waited for it to bring its weapon too low, and then he stomped on it. That held it in place just long enough for him to thrust forward without any fear of reprisal and impale the final goblin. He used his weight and bore it to the leaf-covered ground, letting it wail and scream until it finally stopped moving.

Lucas dropped the gore-spattered weapon and waited for the third goblin to stop moving and whining piteously before he bent to wrench his knife free from the second goblin’s skull. He had no intentions of harvesting goblin livers for their bile today. He wouldn’t even if he’d had a jar for it. It was too disgusting, and he didn’t want to smell like that for days on the road.

Still, even though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of these corpses so he could gather his vines and move on, the blade didn’t want to cooperate. This isn’t a huge problem, he told himself as he struggled to work the blade free. That was true until he heard the sound of something crashing through the brush toward him.

After that, he worked faster. He tried to convince himself that it was just a deer or perhaps another hunter, but that was a lie. The way it was stomping through without a care in the world meant that whatever it was, though, was at the top of the food chain and didn’t have a care in the world.

Once the knife finally came loose, Lucas was torn between whether or not to make a run for his horse at the edge of the woods or make a stand here and collect his supplies. After a moment's thought, he chose to stand and fight, switched his knife into a reverse grip in his left hand, and picked up the nearest unbroken spear in his right.

He was ready for whatever it was that had been attracted by the violence and was about to burst through the foliage in front of him. As long as it was something he could manage, he’d stay and fight, and if not… well, he just hoped he could run faster than whatever it was.