The Way Ahead

Edwin’s new accommodations were nothing special, but he at least had the room to himself- well, himself and Inion, so functionally all to himself- and that was something. A roughly double-sized bed in a medium-sized room, some shelves on which he could keep his stuff, and some hooks on which Edwin could hang his combat gear.

Naturally, he secured everything with extensive multi-layered Apparatus links. He didn’t trust Cope in the slightest- the man somehow managed to simultaneously check every box Edwin had for ‘academic advisor to avoid’ and ‘con man.’ But, so long as Edwin was careful, that shouldn’t matter too much- his goals in Panastalis were relatively simple, after all. He wanted to learn about what more ‘normal’ alchemists- Niall did not count- did and how they did it, get his medical license, and learn more about where he could get alchemy ingredients.

Conman or no, Cope had said he could get Edwin books, and that was what mattered. So what if he was unlikely to be paid for any of this? Heck, worst-case scenario, he could just ‘appropriate’ some books and ingredients as he left. It wouldn’t be worse than the dwarves, if nothing else, and he’d gotten out of that with a fraction of the experience and Skills Edwin had these days, though with a fair bit more karmic aid than he might have here.

All that to say, he wasn’t going anywhere without his valuables triple-secured inside Apparatus and hidden inside of something else. He should probably also reevaluate his habit of not keeping his more stealable belongings on his person- someone rifling through his carriage was way more likely than a master pickpocket, after all.

Oh! He could probably see about selling the Zosiman Grimoire, come to think of it. He was really only lugging the thing around out of habit at this point. Its entire contents- including decently-detailed illustrations- had long since been copied over to Almanac and relevant entries linked to the appropriate names and words. His discovery that he could direct multiple distinct tags to the same entry had helped a ton with that.

His dwarven dictionary was a little worse for wear after all this time, as was his original notebook… ah well, no great loss for either. He’d let his dwarven skills slip a fair bit- Polyglot made it largely redundant anyway- but he wasn’t likely to really try to get in any more practice either.

Where was he? Oh yeah, belongings and security. He’d gotten unpacked, not that there was much for him to unpack, and most (though not all) of his arsenal was stashed in the chest in his cart. The chest, of course, was impossible to open non-destructively- Sapper’s Apparatus jammed the lock and the hinges, and the more internal parts holding everything up were completely unreachable, and thus unbreakable. Even he wouldn’t have been able to open it if his increased levels in the Skill hadn’t also increased the range by which he could summon or dispel his apparatite- it was only about an inch, admittedly, but it was enough for this.

Satisfied, Edwin left his room and journeyed down the short hall it was at the end of, until he reached something of a common area. There, the assistant who had shown him to his quarters waited, and led Edwin to Cope’s office.

The interior was every inch what an alchemist’s office “should” be, which made Edwin start to suspect it was intentional. In one wall, a fireplace contained several of the white logs Edwin had seen in the other room, sitting inert underneath a massive iron cauldron that was nonetheless bubbling with some unknown (but mostly water) substance. In one corner, a low table strewn with papers and a massive, open book sat, while the majority of the room was monopolized with all manner of alchemical concoctions and ingredients. Glowing crystals, sprigs of magical plants, jars holding what looked like multicolored fireflies, a small nugget of black metal, and more besides. Unusually, there was an entire shelf dedicated to what looked like fine china- while there were only a couple plates and something that looked like a small, shallow bowl on a stem and with two looping handles, they were held on prominent display behind glass. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration on the plates in any case- just some symbol Edwin didn’t recognize.

In the center of the room, partially occluded by a freestanding shelving unit, an imposing wooden desk dominated most of the free space, seeming to magnify the presence of the man behind it. Cope appeared to be studying Edwin’s fever potion with a magnifying glass, though one without any kind of lens, unusually enough. He suspected it was magical, but there were too many conflicting magical items in the area, rendering his mana sense all but useless.

“My new friend! Come, come! Sit, sit. Here, take a chair.” Cope slid his tool and potion orb into his desk and motioned towards a stool that, while not uncomfortable-looking in the slightest, was still a far cry from the massive throne he had seated himself upon.

Edwin obliged with a shrug, “So. What did you want me to do, exactly?” he started off, “You said I wasn’t a full member of the Guild, what will that take to accomplish?”

“Getting right down to business, are we? No need to rush! Would you like something to drink? Wine? Mead? Nectar?”

“Nectar? What’s that?”

“Have you never tried it? Oh, it’s marvelous! A Panastalis specialty, you haven’t tried anything half as good as it! Wonderfully sweet upon the palate and so easy to drink an entire flask of if you aren’t careful! I have some wonderful hisperia-fruit vintage from some fifty years ago.”

“Uhhh… no thanks. I don’t drink.”

“Your loss. Ah, Wendell!”

The assistant that had helped Edwin poked his head through the door, “Yes?”

“Fetch me some of the Varlan!”

There was no response, though Edwin had already turned back to face his new ‘employer,’ so figured the man had just nodded or provided some other non-auditory reply.

“So! You’re probably wondering what the story is with myself and Othniel, are you not?”

“Well… not especially, no. I was kind of-” Edwin was cut off by the boisterous alchemist carrying on heedless of Edwin’s protests.

“Well, you see. The Phoens have had command of white gold for centuries now, you know? Eh, I’m sure you haven’t seen much of it before now, but it’s a major commodity! I was fortunate enough to get my hands on a few samples,” he gestured at the china shelf behind him, “for my experiments.”

Wait, porcelain? Um, what do I remember about that?

“Now, Othniel and I met years ago, back as relatively new initiates into the Guild. I had made some fascinating discoveries in the matter of native plants, including identifying and classifying entirely new flora, and my efforts had drawn him to the field as well. Of course, even from the start I knew there was something off about the man. Not half the gentleman he ought to have been, and, though of course I didn’t find out until far later, the fool thinks porcelain is made of clay. Clay, can you believe it? It’s clearly glasswork, though what kind of fool thinks it’s earthenware?”

I thought it was pottery of some sort? Super high-temperature kilns or something?

“The fools down south make their walls from it, can you believe it? They hoard it all to themselves. Even a novice can create so fine a piece you can all but see through it, and with such marvelous applications! Erm, my apologies.

“These days, Othniel and I work to track down and replicated its elusive properties, that we might truly gild the guild and bring riches to this backwoods town.”

Edwin could only shrug in response as his mind wandered slightly. He kept a thread of attention on the conversation, just enough to keep track of what was going on, but allowed most of his thoughts to drift.

“Oh! Thank you, Wendell. Yes, just right here.”

A glass bottle was added to the table, and Cope withdrew a silver goblet from his desk, “You’re certain you don’t want any? It is truly transcendent.”

Edwin shook his head again, and he watched as the man poured himself some wine, taking a deep sip before continuing, “Where was I? Ah yes. Could you imagine, drinking from porcelain? A taste of royalty, let me tell you. The finest drink I ever had was from that there kylix, on the shelf. I don’t pull it out often, but those Gaishans live like that night and day! Sweetened wine, fresh food, and I’ve heard that it is impossible to be poisoned drinking from porcelain as well! Truly, a miraculous substance. Now, Othniel andI first met some years ago as part of our endeavor to catalogue alchemical components…”

Edwin silently sighed and settled in for what seemed to be a very long talk.

“And then, the man decided to blackmail the captain to divert further findings away from me! Me, can you believe it? After that…”

Edwin tuned back in, then back out. The bottle of wine was about half-gone, and the man was showing no signs of slowing down. He just kept getting more and more heated, gesticulating wildly and stroking his moustache in frustration.

“He sought to discredit me even further by spreading around a nonsense story about misidentifying the casthalantis plant! As though anyone would truly be so idiotic as to think the plant would produce fruit at the roots, or even worse- mistake the roots for the branches? Honestly, who does that man think he’s fooling anyway? Apparently everyone, because nobody will ever believe me nowadays when I tell them I never made such a blunder! Oh! But because of that…”

Edwin was honestly amazed that Cope was still going. Given Edwin’s hunger cycle, it had to have been near dinnertime by now. Ah well. Edwin wasn’t in any real rush, though he was annoyed that his day had been essentially wasted by a guy with far too large an ego. It wasn’t too great of a loss, as Edwin had spent the time trying to Almanac all of the miscellaneous knick-knacks that filled the room. He didn’t know what most of them were, but he’d at least know if he encountered them again. He even got a level for his efforts! He didn’t know how many characters he was at with level 131, but it was way more than he was likely to run into- during normal use anyway- any time soon.

“And that brings us to you!”

Oh, this sounded important. He should pay attention now.

“Because you approached me, undeterred by my reputation, you clearly desire to be on the right side of history! With your aid, the Cope faction can once again return to prominence and claim our rightful place as primary researchers upon the White Gold problem! What do you say?”

“…I mean,” Edwin’s voice momentarily caught in his throat from going without speaking for so long, “I thought I basically already agreed? That’s-”

“Marvelous! So glad you agreed.”

“I mean, I kind of already agreed yesterday? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? I was mainly just wondering what it was that you wanted me to actually work on. You’ve talked a lot about your time plant-hunting or whatever, but how does that translate to your attempts to make porcelain or what have you?”

“Ah! Yes.” Cope got a hard light in his eye as he recounted, “After so many years attempting to show up one another in classification of alchemical flora and fauna- I myself wrote half the book on identifying such- we decided that the only way we could truly settle which of us was the superior alchemist was by discovering the impossible; how to make porcelain. Such a task is monumental, and never before accomplished, but as I am the greatest living alchemist, I am certain I shall prevail! Once I do, my name shall be forever remembered as the one who brought fantastic wealth to Panastalis!”

Edwin was… skeptical, to say the least, “What makes you so certain that you’ll be the victor, though? Isn’t this a competition?”

“Bah! As though that lumbering, haphazard fool could ever match my genius! Besides, he is utterly mistaken for the method by which to create it. Othniel thinks that it is mere earthenware, clay which has undergone some alchemical treatment for its color and with Skills speaking to its marvelous properties, but I know better,” he twirled his moustache, “Those backwards Phoens could never match the capability our glorious Empire has with its vast experience with Skills, and could never produce the sort of inter-set consistency we see with their creations. No, it is clearly alchemical glass or crystal, then shaped by Sculptors. I simply need to refine my formula, and when we will have victory!”

“Mhm,” Edwin did his best to not sound too skeptical.

“I’m still not seeing my role in all of this,” he admitted, “What is it that you see me doing on a daily basis? Also, if I’m the one who cracks the formula, how does that then show that you’re the better alchemist?”

“Well, I was the one to hire you, was I not? After all, it is not like he is doing the work himself either. The man has dozens of assistants working under him, each attempting all manner of spurious combinations in a vain attempt to prove victorious.”

So you’d get all the credit, got it. Well, I suppose that’s not too different from normal. Though usually the lead researcher does something more than, well, point people at the problem. And it’s rare an individual in a company gets individual credit for the discovery anyway.

“And... what exactly am I going to be doing every day?” At this point, Edwin wasn’t hopeful that he’d actually get any kind of meaningful response.

“That’s quite simple, my friend,” Cope gave Edwin a sickening smile, “Do you have much experience with glass?”