Chapter 2.2 (Patreon)

The duo traveled through the streets of York until eventually reaching the lab that required their help.

It was a full city block building with big glass windows and dozens pipelines connecting the multiple parts of the grey rooms between them. There was a clear lack of wood in this structure or even detailed stone; it had a sterile look, lacking any kind of wackiness, disorder, or clutter.

“Welcome, I am Court Connor. Are you here to buy potions or for my petition?” A human male said as the two adventurers came into the facility by opening a big double glass door.

He was in his late forties with short blonde hair and was using a mechanical prosthetic that replaced one of his arms. Dressed in a long white coat, the alchemist looked at them with a weary smile.

“We are here for the job,” Pyotr said as his gaze was distracted by the strange and polished nature of his place.

MJ just made a stern nod.

“Excellent, follow me . . .” the man said, feeling a little bit nervous by the orc woman's massive presence.

They were guided through the installation towards a big storage area with wooden crates and, most importantly, a big sealed metal door with multiple “do not open” signs written on it. It was the gate to the lower levels.

“They are down the stairs; please, if you are in danger, consider running,” the alchemist finally said as he began to leave them alone, removing the seals on the door.

“We-” Pyotr began to say before getting cut short by MJ. He was about to say something cocky.

“Thanks for your concern,” the orc woman added with a stern expression on her face while placing her huge hand on the young man's shoulder.

“Were you supposed to . . . ” the human began to say, confused as this did not fit what he knew about that race. Orcs were supposed to be more brutish and savage.

“The line between bravery and stupidity is thin. I will not make a last stand so a potion seller can expand his basement,” MJ answered as she made a step forward and took out a big knife from her belt while still having her blade on her back. Honestly, it would be considered a short sword for someone of a normal size.

“And if I am in trouble?” Pyotr asked again while pulling out a small round shield and another short sword that he had looted from the bandits.

She gave him a rare smile. “Well, that is a completely different case. Saving a life makes risking yours always worthy,” MJ barked, finally showing some of the legendary orcish bravery.