Chapter 48: Chapter 48: The Middling Concerns of a Novice

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The Middling Concerns of a Novice

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Master Yojimbo didn’t mind teaching me how to fix my Blue Wing Redeemer, but he also offered me a counterproposal that got me all giddy inside.

“With the right materials, make your nagamaki better, we can.” He brushed practiced fingers against the blade. “Willing to hunt, are you?”

I didn’t bother correcting the man from the Bushin realm that my weapon was not a nagamaki but a custom glaive that was more of a blade-staff amalgam.

“What sort of hunt do you have in mind?” I asked.

“Many wonders, your Academy has. Some are known, some are yet unseen,” he began. “Deep within the Wandering Wood, your prey you shall find… A beast of three, it is—terrible and strong, this monster, wielding fire and poison and fangs to deter a hunter’s path.”

Based on his description, I had an inkling about what sort of monster he was referring to. Although I’d have to check the bestiary of Divah’s guide to be sure. If this beast I imagined was indeed the right monster, then I was going to have my work cut out for me.

In the end, I agreed to Master Yojimbo’s plan, which meant we would defer upgrading my Blue Wing Redeemer until after my hunt was completed.

“A week, you shall have. No more,” he said with a finality that suggested I shouldn’t disappoint him.

As Master Yojimbo turned away from me, his older-looking apprentice—this slanted-eyed bearded dude whose chest tattoos peeked out from the bare flesh his smith’s robe didn’t cover— reminded me to prepare the fee for next Sunday’s master class lesson. It was a whopping hundred sceattas, the equivalent of five thousand US dollars.

I wasn’t overly worried though as I planned to sell six hamingems at forty to fifty sceattas a piece within the next few days. That should be enough to cover Master Yojimbo’s master class and then some.

“You got that kind of cash on hand?” I asked Delphine.

I figured that if she didn’t then I would be willing to loan her the money with interest. This ain’t a charity.

Delphine waved away my concern easily enough, explaining that she was making a killing on repairing the items of our fellow novices.

“Our blue cloaks are my best customers,” she admitted. “Daft fools don’t know the meaning of proper weapon care.”

After we bowed and said our goodbyes to Master Yojimbo, I parted ways with Delphine and went looking for Dess who had BM’d me that she was trying her hand out at the Alchemy booth not too far from Master Yojimbo’s smithy. It was easy enough to find as all I needed to do was listen for the sounds of explosions which could be heard even through the din of what I now noticed was another nightly revelry. Thor’s beard, these novices loved to party.

Although he was no longer there, Doc Wolfy Wolf’s stage had been commandeered by a pointy-eared novice DJ and her turntables, blasting out heart-pumping elvish hip-hop music to the large gathering that filled up that part of the Hall of Expertise.

“Give it up for Doc Wolfy Wolf’s number one apprentice”—a dark elf announcer yelled to the crowd—“Lil’ Howl~~l!”

Cheers rang all around me while I squeezed my way through chili mead totting teens and found the alchemy booth, which, like Master Yojimbo’s smithy, had an ongoing trial for novices who wanted to enlist for its master class.

I didn’t know the dökkálfar master who was in charge of the booth, although I did recognize the banner of the realms-renowned Alchemy Association hanging on the back wall of the makeshift laboratory.

“Will!” Dess waved her hand excitedly at me.

I raised my hand in greeting. “Yo!”

Her face was beaming sunshine and rainbows as she met me outside the Alchemy booth.

“I got in!” she reported happily. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

Not entirely sure I was responsible for Dess’s success, but I was always happy to be recognized for passive contributions.

“I brewed a normal-grade amethyst health and rejuvenation potion just like you showed me!” she revealed excitedly.

I was honestly surprised she even remembered the long-ass name Doctor Faustus gave the potion I brewed in my first Apprentice Alchemy class much less recall how to make it properly.

“All fairies have photographic memories, silly. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to remember all our extended family’s names and faces,” she chirped.

“That tracks,” I nodded.

I was reminded of Dess’s story of how fairy love was free and unfettered, which I assumed was just a nice way of admitting to a society that encouraged polygamy. It stands to reason that my fairy friend would have had hundreds of relations she needed to remember.

“Wait…” I frowned. “Did you just say this master class will cost you two hundred sceattas?”

Dess nodded, sighing afterward. “My life savings are short a hundred sceattas, but I’m hoping the materials and rewards we made in Saturday’s raid will make up the difference.”

By the All-Father, the Alchemy Association charged a high price for lessons that I was sure were nowhere near as good as the stuff Divah had taught me.

I recalled how the association often sent my master correspondence that ranged from convention speaking requests, offers to buy her patented recipes, and even outright threats to ban her from participating in alchemy competitions if she didn’t comply with their demands—all of which Divah promptly ignored.

“The dragon cares little for the opinion of snakes, kiddo,” she’d often chuckle.

I remembered Divah once telling me that she hated how the Alchemy Association kept much of the life-saving formulas they had under lock and key, refusing to share with adventurers whose lives would have been saved if they’d just been more accommodating.

“Don’t ever get mixed up with those losers,” Divah had warned me. “There’s not enough honor in the world to wash the stain off of you afterward.”

I would have given Dess this same advice, but it wasn’t like she had another way to learn advanced alchemy while she was still an apprentice. I couldn’t share my master’s teachings with the fairy either as I wasn’t inclined to be bludgeoned to death by Divah’s fists.

But, as I glanced over Dess’s shoulder and frowned at the scarlet caduceus—twin snakes twirling around a staff—emblazoned over a field of white, the Alchemy Association’s banner—which I honestly think was a more pretentious version of Earth’s Red Cross—I realized that there was a way I could repay all of the fairy’s goodwill to me.

“You’re sure you want this class?” I asked again.

I mean, there was a shield mastery booth two stalls down from this one, and that honestly seemed like a better option for the shield-totting fairy.

“I can’t just think about what I want, Will… I’ve got a big family to help feed and my fairy godmother’s loan to pay off too.” Dess’s brow knitted together. “I need to make moolah ASAP, and alchemy’s one of the best professions to make quick sceattas.”

Wow, that was heavy. Far too heavy a burden for a girl about the same age as me. Dess’s real-world problems made me feel slightly ashamed that all I was worried about was my spat with a certain pointy-eared, chestnut-colored haired maiden who shall not be named.

“I know I’m not a wunderkind like you, but I figured I could earn sceattas brewing affordable potions for the novices who couldn’t afford the pricey stuff. Gods know demand’s never going to run short in the Academy,” she explained in her usual rapid-fire way of speaking.

“And you want to be the one to fill that demand,” I guessed.

“Exactly,” she nodded. 

Her sense for business made me want to help her out even more. This wasn’t an altruistic thing though. Helping Dess out meant I’d be making lots of money too. I think. Besides, since I decided to postpone further plundering of the Academy’s riches until I made up with she-who-will-not-be-named, I needed another outlet that would help me improve my abilities quickly.

“If it’s money you need, Desdemona Dewleaf”—I patted her gingerly on the shoulder—“how about you partner with me?”

I realized a half-second later that I may have phrased my words wrong because Dess’s cheeks blushed the color of apples suddenly. Perhaps asking someone to partner up with you meant an entirely different thing in fairy culture, but how was I to know that, right?

“Um, what I meant to say”—I pulled my hand away—“was that I want you to be my business partner.”

“Oh.” A half-second of confusion later and Dess’s eyes lit up. “Oh!”

The fairy let out a peal of nervous laughter before she asked me to explain further, which I did by suggesting she should invest in me instead of the Alchemy Association. We would use our funds to buy ingredients for little-known potion recipes that I promised her would entice our fellow novices better than simple healing potions.

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“So, you want me to bet my life savings on you?” she confirmed.

“Well, yes, but that’s not all. I’m going to need help making the products too.” I was grinning from ear to ear now. “If you help me out, then I promise we’re both going to be rich by next weekend, which would be just in time for us to pay class fees and level up for our first proving day too.”

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Dess was quick to say yes to my plan, making me blush as I didn’t think she had that much faith in me.

“I’ve seen you do the impossible, Will. If you say we can do it then how could I not believe in you?” She grabbed my hand and then dragged me back toward the party. “Come on, partner, let’s celebrate our upcoming business with some dancing and chili mead!”

As I let Dess drag me along, I wondered what she-who-will-not-be-named might think if she saw the fairy’s hand wrapped around mine. Would it have annoyed her to hear that Dess called me partner? Well, five glasses of chili mead later and I stopped caring about the she-elf. Although she would star in my nightmare later that night—the recurring one where that damned death cult murders me. This time, instead of Lorias ‘freaking’ Löwenthal, it was his daughter’s face I saw among the line of cultists sacrificing me to their death gods.

I wasn’t sure how I woke up in my room the next morning, but that nightmare was still fresh in my mind when I got up while sporting this massive headache.

No, I didn’t think this dream was any sort of portent prophesizing the she-elf joining the dark side. I just think my caveboy mind liked to think about her too much.

“I need to get over this.” I sighed while I massaged my brow with my fingers. “Shit… first potion I’m making will deal with hangovers… I bet the demand for that’s pretty high too.” 

Luckily for me, P.E. was just more of the same ‘shield wall’ exercise as last Friday, but with two glaring differences. First, the blue cloaks were set against each other so that Master Doomsday could personally instruct us in our many errors. Second, Delphine attended class today, which meant there were two disruptors among the mages now, and it was fun pitting the two of us against eight versions of Scaredy Cat. LOL.

As for the red cloaks, they didn’t get their revenge match with me today. They were far too busy getting distracted by the numerous traps and underhanded tactics their green cloak enemies shoved in their way. Pretty quickly, the two shield walls broke apart, turning instead into an all-out melee that was both fun and depressing to watch.

After all, how could I trust these red cloaks to watch my front when their defense kept breaking like this, right?

Things got so rough—with the green cloaks led by Lohgan Fowling, Tessa the cloud nymph, and her satyr boyfriend Elias peppering Dess’s crew in pepper bombs and mudslide carpets—that Master Doomsday and his morning crew had to forcefully separate the two groups.

Dess’s crew were all pretty miffed by the end of P.E. as some of them were still nursing pink eyes and stuffy noses thanks to Lohgan’s gang. That displeasure followed us to Realmsverse History where another fight ensued. Mostly trash talking, a few people shoving smaller people around, and some gale-force winds from Brunhilde. It was roughhousing that predictably ended with Mistress Ravenloft threatening our class with exsanguination once again. And, just like before, we spent the rest of the class chafing under the cloud of shared responsibility, forced to clean up for everyone else’s mess while the evil eye of our vampire instructor followed us around.

Seriously, was I ever going to learn any history while I was part of Apprentice-One?

“I like history,” I sighed.

Lunch wasn’t much of an affair. I spent it with Mistress Grimsever again as Dess seemed busy plotting revenge with her red cloak buddies.

“Honestly, I’m surprised they weren’t that angry with me when I showed them up,” I said as I dipped my spoon in a bowl of mushroom stew.

“The rivalry between the lodge and the gallery is legendary around here,” Mistress Grimsever explained. “More stew?”

I graciously accepted. I was crazy hungry as I’d avoided the tower’s hearth once I noticed that ‘she’ was having breakfast there with Zen and Holly. It was the old ‘avoidance’ tactic, meaning avoiding anything that made me uncomfortable. Yep, Realmsflix had taught me well. 

“What kind of mushrooms are these?” I shoved the spoonful of mushroom and soup into my mouth. I gulped it down with some tea before adding, “It’s really good.”

Mistress Grimsever gave me a tactful smile. “They’re called plum shrooms. Helps keep one’s energy going on rough days.”

Speaking of mushrooms, nature’s gift that keeps on giving was the main ingredient to the calming poultice I made in Apprentice Alchemy an hour later.

Doctor Faustus decided we needed to learn about calming medicines after our recent hair-raising adventures—the non-addictive kind, of course.

I was honestly surprised that he remembered last weekend’s dungeon break when the draugr alchemist had forgotten all about what he’d said to me at the end of last Friday’s lesson.

“Memento…what?” his non-existent brows furrowed. “I haven’t the foggiest… What were you asking me again, Wilton?”

“It’s Wisdom, sir,” I sighed.

It was clear from the way the blue flames in his eye sockets flickered weakly that the doctor had once again forgotten to take his medicine, which meant his memory was fried once more.

“Yes-yes, good job, Wilkins.” he patted my poultice with a bony hand. “Full marks for your creative use of…”

“…Pink Floyd, sir,” I finished his thought for him.

“Yes-yes,” he nodded distractedly. “So named for the human band whose music…”

“Psychedelic space-rock?” Dess offered.

She and I rolled our eyes as Doctor Faustus agreed in a distracted sort of way.

“When do you think he’ll start wanting to eat us?” I asked.

“Soon by the looks of him,” she replied, giggling. “We should probably get him to drink a potion today just in case.”

“Good idea.” I nodded. “You do it.”

“What?” Dess gave me a horrified look. “Why me?”

“Because you’re affable.” I chuckled while I slid my poultice over to her side of the table. “Here, this should keep you calm.”

Yes, she’d taken a bit of my poultice. I and a bunch of others did too. Which meant we were all feeling pretty swell by the time we moved on to Beginner Professions.

I must have been as high as a kite, honestly, because it seemed to me that this scruffy-looking dwarf was looking down at me while I sat in my chair. It took me a moment or two later to realize that he was indeed a dwarf. Not like any of the hill dwarves who were more prominent in the Academy, but their bigger cousin—a mountain dwarf. It took me another moment to realize that he was the teacher.

“Ye lot have been taking some weird shit again, haven’t ye?” Master Barad Bonehammer sighed heavily. “This is why I hate having me class after an alchemy lesson.”

The master of Beginner Professions was big, but not in a Doomsday kind of way. He was about my height and twice as stocky as I was. Sturdily built too like all mountain dwarves tended to be. He had scruffy brown hair and a scruffy beard framing a gruff-looking face with small, beady brown eyes and a prominent nose.

“All right, ye little reprobates, we’ll be taking this class outside so ye can get some fresh air into ye system to shove out whatever nasty chemicals ye’ve imbibed,” he grumbled.

To the north of the Wandering Wood’s tree line was a literal mine—seriously, the Academy’s campus had everything—called ‘Wyrm’s Mine’ that was both a source of iron and silver ores while also being the Academy’s second exclusive dungeon. Although it was nowhere near as difficult as Grendel’s Grotto, or so Dess claimed.

Master Barad’s idea of outdoor activities was the quarry outside of Wyrm’s Mine where we were tasked with mining the limestones required for smelting iron ore.

“Put ye’r backs into it, apprentices!” he roared. “Feel the fresh air while ye drive that pickax into the earth!”

Interestingly enough, as I attempted to sober up while doing hard labor, I heard a familiar howling somewhere close by that made me think the mining trial wasn’t working for me.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Morph, who was closest in line to me, replied, “Hear what?”

“Nevermind… I—”

There it was again, a piercing howl that rang clear through the din of pickaxes striking into rock.

I glanced over my shoulder and frowned as my eyes were staring straight into the Wandering Wood’s northern tree line. I suppose I should be thankful that the howling, which now seemed insistent to my ears, wasn’t leading me into the Wyrm Mine’s entrance.

“Morph, I’ll be back,” I whispered.

Without waiting for a reply, I began walking toward the woods, with only my pickax in hand. I knew this might be another ginormous mistake, but I couldn’t help myself. Somehow, that wolf’s call drew me to it like a moth to a flame.