The Alchemist's Lair: Part 1

In early spring, tales of a ghost that had been spotted by multiple shepherds in the Ptolomiac mountains, near the western border of Manea, reached Hieropolis.

“Well, it is more likely an apparition than a ghost”, clarified Claudia while sipping her tea.

It was the briefing for the first Royal Treasure Hunters expedition I was assigned to. We were seated at a round table – the sorceress, king Philoctetes, six members of the organization, myself included, and an unfamiliar bearded old man wearing black scholarly robes. This informal arrangement was made at the king’s insistence, as the Treasure Hunters were a hobby of his and he wanted to feel as if he was a genuine part of the adventuring company, and not merely the sponsor.

“What is the difference between the two?” I inquired.

“I will let Annabel answer that”. Claudia smiled at the bespectacled young woman sitting next to her. She was the court sorceress’s apprentice and one of the Royal Treasure Hunters’ resident magical experts.

Annabel cleared her throat and began. “Genuine ghosts are exceedingly rare, you see. A ghost is a soul that has been tethered to the material world, and Mistress must have already drilled into you that any anomalies regarding souls are the result of extremely powerful magic. A ghost, thusly, won’t appear spontaneously. It needs to be the result of a ritual of some sort, or an exceedingly strong curse. Ghosts, while usually bound to a particular place, have their free will mostly intact and can communicate with others. Apparitions, on the other hand, are an echo of a person. They are static, repeat the same actions over and over again, and are usually created as a result of strong emotion at the moment of death. Judging by the shepherds’ stories, that’s what we’re dealing with here”.

“Thank you, Annabel”, said the king. “The apparition was speaking in a language unknown to the shepherds, and wearing an outfit which, judging by this sketch made by one of the shepherds, quite resembles High Borchian alchemical garb".

“You have to hand it to these shepherds”, remarked Rhombus of Tetrahedron, “they see a ghost and their first reaction is to draw it”. Rhombus was a young noble who joined the Treasure Hunters after getting kicked out of Hieropolis academia. While there, he left his mark via a series of duels, with both sword and pistol, which eventually resulted directly in his dismissal, after he left the son of the Duke of Parabola paralyzed from the waist down. Next to him was a man almost as large as myself, covered in tattoos and scars. That was Gandor, his bodyguard and a retainer of the Duke of Tetrahedron. He kept mostly to himself and, despite his thuggish appearance, was fiercely loyal to his employer. How he ended up with that job would remain a mystery to me for a good while.

A petite woman with raven black hair and sharp facial features laughed at his words. “That’s just Old Yezek. That man cannot be fazed. They say he chased a vampire out of the local windmill with a shovel”. Iocaste hailed from the Ptolomiac region. She simply showed up at Hieropolis one day and offered her pathfinding expertise to the Royal Treasure Hunters. Little was known of her background – evil tongues often accused her of being a former poacher – but her knack for orientation both above and below ground, as well as her sharpshooting skills that put many a trained soldier to shame, made her invaluable to the organization.

“Let us return to the matter at hand”, the King continued, “According to lore, the laboratory of Nestor, the legendary High Borchian alchemist, should be somewhere in the Ptolomiac mountains. These sightings, as well as whatever the apparition was saying, could help locate it, and uncover Nestor’s recipes, or at least some alchemical artefacts”.

“Which is why I thought it prudent to invite Professor Balthazar to come with us”, said the final Treasure Hunters’ member present, a scholar by the name of Civet, whose feebleness of body (at least compared to other expedition members) was offset by deep wells of multidisciplinary knowledge. “My High Borchian is decent enough, but having an expert on hand might prove invaluable”.

“Pleased to meet you”, nodded the professor. “I haven’t been out of the city in a while, so I hope I won’t slow you down”.

The overall plan was laid out in detail afterwards. We were to leave Hieropolis in a week’s time and head west. After reaching the Ptolomiac area, we were to inquire with the locals about the apparition sightings, try to locate it by ourselves, and gather more information that way, finally attempting to locate the laboratory itself using clues from the intelligence gathered. What we could expect to find once inside was anybody’s guess, as most pre-cataclysm ruins were either completely destroyed or buried underground and forgotten about. As for travelling arrangements, we were to be assigned two carts to transport supplies and eventual wounded, as well as steeds for personal use. A troop of soldiers would be assigned as an escort, since the western reaches of the kingdom were a hotbed for bandits and monsters.

As the briefing ended and we were leaving the room, I could hear Rhombus mockingly address me from behind my shoulder: “Is the king’s pet monkey prepared for the journey? I hope His Majesty’s excentricities don’t get us all killed. If I were in his place I would’ve had you killed the moment you were found in that tube”.

“So do you suggest, when we find that laboratory, we demolish the entrance and leave? Something potentially dangerous might be there after all. Can’t risk it”.

“Touche”, he laughed. “I was hoping I’d get deeper under your skin. I’m dying to find out if that freakish strength of yours is more than a legend”.

“You’ll have to wait until we run into some bandits, then. I’m not going to fight you. His Majesty may have a soft spot for me, but I’m not foolish enough to piss off nobility. What would your family do to me if you got hurt?”

“That implies you think you could hurt me. You can’t. You may have that ridiculous body, but swordsmanship has been drilled into me since I could walk. I slew beasts much larger than yourself in the family arena – for fun. So, want to put your words to the test? Just a little friendly sparring match. Til the first drop of blood”.

“Then let’s say I don’t want to get hurt myself before the expedition”, I smirked.

“Some other time then. I’m a patient man. I’ll catch you in a foul mood sooner or later”. He patted me on the shoulder and left.

“Don’t pay too much attention to Rhombus”, said Civet, who happened to be nearby. “The man is addicted to combat. He tries to pick a fight with pretty much anyone he deems an interesting opponent. Thankfully, as an academic, I am safe from his pestering”.

“That’s good to hear, honestly. It would be a much worse problem if he genuinely resented me”.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that. He’s much too preocupied with having his fun to actively hate anyone”.

After that, I asked him to recommend some literature that would allow me to get a basic rundown on the area we were traveling to, and he was more than happy to oblige. We then bid each other goodbye and went to prepare for the journey.