Nick stepped into Ogden’s apothecary, letting the door click shut, sealing away the morning bustle of Floria. In the past month, enough new buildings had been erected that even this oft-forgotten corner of the town had become busy, even though the expansion was mostly focused south, where the open fields required less work to build on.
Glass alembics twisted along the wooden workbenches, trapping violet and green vapors in endless loops of condensation. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters, casting strange shadows in the light of the glowing lumen-stones, which were needed as the windows were barred shut.
Rhea stood at the counter, her sleeves rolled past her elbows. She spoke with animated fervor, gesturing with her hands as she outlined the effects of her creations in the frozen north.
"The dissolution cascaded through the matrix as expected, especially after Grandmother identified a weak point,” Rhea explained, leaning over a piece of stained parchment covered in shorthand. “Ephor's blood wards were well layered, built to resist just about anything. Basic attacks might have only made the barrier stronger. But the Behemoth solvent bypassed their structure altogether, attacking the blood’s binding. The ward crumbled in seconds after it was applied, Master.”
Ogden sat on a high wooden stool, grinding dried roots in an iron mortar. He looked exactly as he had when he’d left, a grumpy old man with liver spots and a permanent scowl.
“Seconds are slow for such a pure extraction," Ogden grumbled, though a glint of genuine approval shone in his reptilian eyes. "You should have increased the caustic silver ratio by a fraction. Still, for a field test against a Prestige Artificer, it is passable work, apprentice. You proved yourself not wholly incapable.”
Though the old alchemist had already noticed him, Nick made a point of letting his boots announce his approach. "It saved our lives, Master Ogden. Passable is a harsh grade for a brew that broke what could have been a long siege.”
Especially since, if we’d wasted even a few more minutes, things would have been much, much different. Alexander might not have been interested in power for his own sake, but killing an Avatar and Ephor would have given him much. I honestly cannot say whether I could have defeated him as I was then.
Ogden paused his grinding as he looked up, sweeping his gaze over Nick’s dark cloak with interest and coming to rest on his face. He set the pestle aside and wiped his hands on a clean rag.
“Ah, the conquering hero returns," he noted in a gravely voice. “I can see you walk with a straighter spine than when you left. And you even brought my apprentice back in one piece.”
"I gave you my word," Nick said, stopping at the edge of the counter. The promise they’d made rarely left his mind, even when he had more pressing matters to deal with.
"Words are cheap wind," Ogden countered, leaning forward with a crooked grin. "But you backed yours up with action, and that deserves a proper reward. Hold out your hand.”
Knowing what he wanted, Nick extended his right hand. The iron band of his spatial ring caught the light.
Ogden inspected it for a moment, likely seeing more than Nick could, then nodded in apparent satisfaction. "Keep it," he declared. "The terms of our arrangement are fulfilled. You guarded her, allowed her to test her limits, and she returned a superior alchemist. Consider the ring yours.”
A spatial ring of that size with stasis capabilities was a priceless artifact, something even a High Noble would want to possess. To Ogden, it was pocket change, traded for a job well done.
"My thanks," Nick said, tracing the smooth metal with his thumb. He’d grown very used to having it, and it would have pained him greatly to give it back.
Not that he’d expected Ogden to go back on his word, but it was good to know it was officially his.
Ogden turned back to Rhea. "The wyvern venom in the basement needs stirring. It’s been sitting for an hour, so if the temperature falls below the baseline, it will turn into useless sludge. Check on it, and use the obsidian rod instead of the glass.”
Rhea nodded, grabbing a pair of thick drake-hide gloves from the counter. She flashed Nick a quick smile, then disappeared through the arched doorway leading down into the cellars.
The moment the thick door shut, the atmosphere in the shop shifted.
The air in the room grew dense, pressing inward, leaving Nick feeling as if he stood before an approaching storm.
Ogden leaned his elbows on the wooden counter. For a fraction of a second, the human illusion slipped. The alchemist’s vertical pupils glowed molten gold, and Nick knew he was no longer speaking to the alchemist but to the dragon.
“You have achieved Prestige," he rumbled. His voice dropped an octave, leaving the impression of something far larger than a frail old man. His shadow stretched oddly on the wall, twisting and leaving echoes of beating wings and fire so hot it could burn even magic. "It has been nearly a century since a whelp crossed the boundary so young without aid. You really are quite something special, Nicholas Crowley.”
Somehow, he managed to make the compliment sound like a mere indulgence, as if he were little more than a child who’d somehow completed a mildly difficult task.
To someone like him, I might as well be. I’m far beyond mortals now, but he’s a whole tier above me and so old that he was recorded in beastmen legends.
Nick used [Sovereign’s Parsimony] to keep his power locked within his body, despite the instinct to meet the silent challenge. Instead, he met the dragon's gaze without flinching. “We both knew winning in the North demanded a steep toll. I paid it and reaped the rewards.”
“Yes, none can deny that,” Ogden chuckled. The imposing pressure in the ether receded, and he was once more an old man, even if Nick would never mistake him for one. "I am old enough to recognize talent, but even I didn’t think you’d do it this quickly. Yet I suspect you did not visit this potion peddler merely for acknowledgment. What brings you to my counter, Nicholas Crowley?”
“A King's Shadow," Nick said plainly. Ogden would know the moment the man entered Floria anyway. It would be foolish to hide it, especially since he needed his help.
Ogden arched a single bushy eyebrow. "The Crown’s hounds are sniffing around Floria again?”
"They will come looking for information about my rank-up," Nick explained. He was somewhat annoyed, but if he’d been the King, he would have done the same. A growing talent could be ignored, but a new Prestige mage at his age could not, especially given his family’s history. "A summons to the capital has been issued for me to present myself to the court. But that is not the important part. When Shadow arrives here, they will find Arthur's granddaughter, Rose.”
"Ah," Ogden breathed, a knowing look crossing his wrinkled features. “Yes, I can see how that could create problems.”
Nick nodded. He had suspected Ogden knew about Rose's lineage. The disguised dragon missed nothing within his territory, being able to sense the truths of mana that mere humans ignored. Yet it was just as true that he simply didn’t care for this kind of thing.
"The Shadow will likely recognize her mana," Nick continued. “Harboring a bastard of the Royal line without the Crown’s knowledge and assent is treason. I need to hide her.”
Ogden tapped a finger against the rim of the mortar, deep in thought. At least he seemed to find the problem interesting enough to consider, which was more than Nick had feared. "You cannot simply drape a visual illusion over a Royal class. The System recognizes the blood and broadcasts its authority into the World, and Shadows possess tracking skills designed to pierce mundane trickery and read the underlying truth of a soul.”
“Which is why I intend to apply a different template to her," Nick replied, his eyes gleaming. “From what I’ve seen, her magic lacks the friction one would expect in a mortal class. When she casts, the World yields to her intent without resistance. That, I believe, is the hallmark of a ruler's bloodline. If I can craft a spiritual filter anchored to her physical form, I can force her mana to behave like a common aura and mimic a different power.”
Ogden stopped tapping. He stared at Nick, a slow, razor-sharp smile spreading across his face.
"You wish to trick the System itself," Ogden said, his voice laced with dark amusement. "To force a false class and lie long enough for the Shadow to depart.”
"I have an idea about the spellcraft required," Nick said, thanking his ancestor for his in-depth studies on the matter. "Something designed to obscure identity, which I am adapting to the current needs. But I need an alchemical catalyst to bind the illusion to her physical form, one capable of sinking into her channels and disrupting the golden mana at its source. Can you brew it?”
Ogden threw his head back and laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound that rattled the glass vials on the shelves.
"Spitting in the eye of the King," Ogden wheezed, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Yes. Oh, yes, little madman. I can brew it. It will be a masterwork of deception and an excellent lesson for Rhea as well. This will introduce her to the deeper truths of alchemy.”
"I will pay whatever price you name," Nick offered, willing to empty the spoils of Toneburg to secure the reagent. While the Stillness had been the best piece of loot he’d found, that didn’t mean he hadn’t helped himself to some gold and silver as well.
Ogden waved a dismissive hand. "Keep your coin; the amusement is payment enough. Those arrogant fools in the capital sit on their stolen throne and preach their divine right to rule. It will please me greatly to watch one of their elites walk past a possible heir and see nothing but a talented peasant.”
Nick, though very happy about the quick agreement, still caught the specific phrasing. "Stolen throne?”
Ogden scoffed, returning to his mortar and pestle to grind the roots with renewed vigor. "You humans love your myths of legitimacy, believing the Golden Right is a gift from the gods to the rightful kings of Berea. It is a contract, Nicholas. Nothing more.”
He sprinkled a pinch of luminescent blue powder into the mortar, and it flared, sending a puff of sweet-smelling smoke into the rafters.
Since he didn’t seem done yet, Nick stayed silent, intrigued by where this was going. It wasn’t often that Ogden revealed anything, and this promised to be very juicy.
“A couple of centuries ago, the King forged a pact with the spirit of the land itself," the alchemist explained. "The local iteration of the World. This spirit granted the royal line the Golden Right, the authority to command without friction in both spiritual and terrestrial matters, but it demanded a price in exchange. The spirit desired to be whole.”
Nick processed the information, and a new understanding of the kingdom's history fell into place. "Reunification. That is why the Kingdom expanded so violently into the grasslands. It was all part of a plan to swallow the neighboring territories and reforge the spirit.”
"Exactly," Ogden grunted, scraping the sides of the iron bowl. “Over many years, they ingested the bordering states to feed the pact, but forgot that the land spirit cares nothing for your human laws, marriages, or bastard children. Blood is blood. Because this Rose carries the lineage, the spirit recognizes her claim to the land just as strongly as it does the man now sitting on the throne.”
Before Nick could process the implications, Ogden looked up, his expression turning grave. "There are still a few tracts of land beyond the borders that belong to the original spirit's domain. If the King feels his mortality or wishes to further empower his bloodline for a coming conflict, he will launch another crusade. He is bound by the pact to conquer those remaining pieces to keep the Right flowing strong, anyway. There has been peace for too long, no matter the skirmish with the dwarves. True war is much more dangerous than that.”
"All the more reason to keep Rose hidden," Nick concluded. A King hungry for power, bound by an ancient pact, would brook no rivals. Legitimate or not, Rose was a threat to the current monarch's monopoly on the land spirit's favor.
“How long to brew the catalyst?" he asked when it became clear that Ogden wouldn’t share more.
"Seven days," the dragon answered. "No less. If you rush me, the brew will scorch the girl's mana channels to ash the moment you apply it. Come back in a week, and I will give you what you need.”
"A week is fine," Nick said, feeling a knot of tension in his chest loosen. "I have preparations to make anyway."