Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 442

Ogden snorted, the sound producing a rumbling vibration that momentarily rattled the glass vials on the nearest shelf. He picked up his pestle and went back to grinding the dried root, his demeanor shifting effortlessly back into that of a perpetually annoyed shopkeeper.

"See that you keep them clean," the old alchemist muttered, his eyes fixed on the stone mortar. "This town is becoming enough of a headache without adding any more demons to the mix. The expansion is driving me mad. Every day, a dozen new adventurers wander in demanding basic stamina tonics or blister salves, as if I am some glorified brewer running a corner stall."

Nick leaned against the counter, completely at ease in the cluttered space despite being so close to someone who could obliterate him with a glare. "Rhea mentioned you were pulling double duty to keep up with demand. I imagine the coin must be decent, at least, considering how many merchants are flowing through the gates."

"Bah! If I wanted to be rich, I'd have accepted the post as Grandmaster of the Alchemy Guild. Coin is useless if I have no peace to enjoy it," Ogden countered. He swept the ground powder into a small piece of folded parchment, tapping it neatly into a waiting vial. "But I suppose I should tell you something, since you came all the way over here. You did well to return when you did, Nicholas. Floria is changing, and not entirely for the better. The blood in the water is attracting predators."

"The merchant consortia?" Nick asked, recalling the spies gathered in the corners of the Staggering Boar. The mercenaries had been more openly troublesome, but they wouldn't have acted without a patron supporting them.

"Sharks," Ogden agreed, corking the vial and setting it aside. "They see this town as an open vault without a proper lock. They're buying property, hiring private muscle, and testing the waters to find out who really controls the current. Your mother has kept them at bay, but as long as your father is away, she won't be able to stop them. They'll push harder before settling down with what they've managed to acquire."

"Devon and I took care of a group of their mercenaries this afternoon," Nick replied, though his brow furrowed. "I believe we sent a clear enough message."

"Barely a temporary fix," Ogden warned, waving his hand. "You swatted a fly, and now a dozen more will inevitably take its place, drawn by the scent of profit. But the politics of men are your problem. I have a different warning for you."

The old dragon leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping low.

"You and that fiery madman did a thorough job clearing out that dungeon months ago," Ogden said, his reptilian eyes catching the dim lamplight. "You destroyed the anchor and scoured the fae, but nature abhors a vacuum. By removing the apex threat from that sector of the Green Ocean, you left an empty territory.

Nick felt a subtle chill run down his spine, more because of how serious Ogden was than what he actually said. It was moments like these that he remembered what the old alchemist truly was.

"Something else moved in," he guessed. The crystal forest was a valuable natural resource, one profitable enough to attract Horatio Bluetear's attention, so it wasn't surprising that powerful monsters would notice as well.

Ogden nodded slowly. "The balance in the forest has shifted recently. A new resident has claimed the deep woods to the east. Something exceedingly territorial. It has been marking its borders, pushing the lesser beasts outward toward the new logging camps, and glutting itself on the abundance of mana. That's why your town guard is seeing an increase in monster attacks along the perimeter."

This really shouldn't be something we have to handle, Nick thought, mildly frustrated. They'd been essentially forced to give up a portion of the future revenue from the forest in exchange for "protection" by Bluetear, but if the Tower Master wasn't keeping his part of the deal, they would have to address it on their own.

It was unfair, but knowing the man just a little, he could guess that the terms of the agreement only covered protection from more powerful nobles and other political interests, rather than monster troubles. Considering everything that had happened in the Tower in recent weeks, it was likely Bluetear had much bigger problems to deal with.

"Do you know what it is?" Nick eventually asked.

"I know it commands the flora," Ogden replied, turning away to pull a heavy wooden crate from beneath the counter. "And I know it does not care for trespassers, since the disappearances of gatherers have even caught the attention of the Adventurer's Guild. Keep your eyes open when you walk past the tree line. The forest is no longer the playground you left behind."

The alchemist placed the crate on the counter and unlatched the iron latches. Inside, securely nestled in beds of straw, were dozens of crystal vials. Half were filled with a vibrant, glowing crimson liquid, while the other half shimmered with a deep, oceanic blue. A good chunk of them shone brightly in the ether, and Nick knew them as elixirs.

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"Your ring is empty," Ogden stated, stating a fact rather than asking a question. "I won't ask what caused you to burn through years' worth of potions in just months, but you should know better than to go around like that."

"I did," Nick admitted. The Tower siege had completely depleted his spatial ring of every healing draft and mana restorative he had. Replacing high-quality alchemical supplies was always a painfully costly task, and he began mentally calculating how much gold he still had, not even asking how Ogden knew.

He was stopped as the old man pushed the crate across the polished wood. "Take them."

Nick blinked, looking down at the fortune he was being offered, then back up at the grumpy shopkeeper. "I don't have the coin to cover a bulk purchase of this quality right now. I can pay you—"

"I didn't ask for your coin," Ogden interrupted, his voice hardening. Something in his tone told Nick he was almost offended, and he froze, warily watching the dragon. "We struck an agreement months ago, Nicholas. A pact. This is just my side of the deal."

Nick straightened his posture, memories of that conversation flooding back clearly in his mind. Before leaving for the Tower, Ogden had agreed to give him his ring and supplies, but only under specific conditions.

"You will be heading North with the girl soon," Ogden said, resting his hands flat on the counter. "I am giving you these supplies to make sure you both survive the attempt at tearing down House Ultimer. Unless you had a sudden change of heart, the terms of our agreement stay the same."

Breathing out and forcing himself to relax, Nick met the dragon's gaze without flinching. "Our agreement stands," he echoed.

"Her safety will trump the objective," Ogden pressed, his vertical pupils narrowing. "Above your pride. And above her brother's life. If the mission turns sour, if the estate proves too fortified, or if the boy's dark arts consume him completely, you will pull her out. You will drag her away, kicking and screaming if you must. She will not appreciate it, but her survival is the only return on investment I care about."

It was a ruthless calculation, one that Nick knew Rhea would vehemently despise if it ever came down to it. She loved Gaelen deeply, and her pursuit of vengeance drove her every waking moment. But Nick understood the old dragon's perspective perfectly. Vengeance was a luxury; survival was essential.

"I remember the deal," Nick repeated solemnly, placing his hand on the wooden crate. "I will bring her back."

"See that you do," Ogden grunted, as the oppressive weight in the room lifted, and he turned his back to organize a shelf. "Now get out of my shop. I need to close before another bleeding mercenary wanders in asking for bandages."

Nick secured the crate in his spatial ring, gave a respectful nod to the old alchemist's back, and stepped out into the cool night air. The warning about the Green Ocean lingered in his mind as he made his way back to Crowley Manor, blending into the bigger picture of their upcoming northern campaign.

The next morning, after breakfast with his family, Nick reached the designated meeting spot—a quiet, dusty courtyard behind a row of newly built warehouses near the Adventurer's Guild. Rhea and Gaelen were already there, surrounded by travel packs.

Gaelen looked slightly better than he had the night before in the dim light of the Swaying Lantern. He still wore his dark leather armor and was attaching a row of throwing knives to his bandolier.

Yet, despite his focus, Nick's senses easily detected the oily, lingering residue of cursed magic on the outer edges of the man's soul space, and although its makeup was unclear, he could trace it back to a specific blade on his hip.

It was bound in leather and seemed harmless in its sealed state, but its reflection in the ether made even him cautious.

If his own dagger, the Remnant of Akas, was a leashed hound, this was a Cerberus baying for blood, barely kept back by a flimsy chain.

"Morning," Nick called out, momentarily putting his worries aside.

Rhea looked up from checking the straps on a heavy canvas bag, her expression lined with mild frustration. "You're just in time to hear the bad news. I spent the last few hours tracking down my contacts among adventurers I sell potions to in order to find us a target for today, and we have absolutely nothing."

"Nothing?" Nick asked, surprised. "Even with the increased patrols, the frontier is usually crawling with opportunists."

"Usually, yes," Gaelen replied, his voice carrying its signature curt edge. He tested the draw of his longsword, satisfied with the silent slide of steel against leather. "But my sister and I have spent the last month being exceptionally thorough. It appears that we raided every known bandit camp within a twenty-mile radius of the town borders. The few surviving stragglers packed up and fled to greener pastures."

He seemed genuinely disappointed he wouldn't get to hunt down more acceptable targets, and Nick wondered how long it would take him to decide that non-criminals were okay too.

"We need a live combat scenario," Rhea sighed, crossing her arms. "Gaelen and I have a rhythm, but we've never fought alongside you, Nick. I doubt you still use the same tactics I'm used to, so we can't just march North and figure out our synergy while assaulting a fortified noble estate. We need to understand how we work together before the stakes become deadly."

"We don't need bandits for that," Nick said, waving her off. "I spoke with Ogden last night, and he gave me a warning."

Both siblings turned to him in eerie synchronization. Nick thought he could spy a flash of irritation in Rhea, probably because she hadn't been informed by her own master, but she suppressed it fast.

"He says a new apex predator has moved into the area where the Fae dungeon was. Something territorial and capable of controlling the plants. It's been forcing the lesser beasts out, which is why the logging camps are experiencing more attacks."

Gaelen's eyes narrowed before he gave a slow nod. "A powerful beast in a dense forest environment. Something with high natural resilience, unpredictable attack patterns, and home-field advantage. Yes, it would be a perfect stress test."

"And it removes a threat from Floria's borders in the process," Rhea agreed, a spark of enthusiasm returning to her voice. "If it is that powerful, it might even have a core. That could prove incredibly useful when we start brewing the compounds we need for Toneburg."

Before they could finalize the plan, the soft sound of footsteps approached the courtyard entrance, and Elia stepped around the corner, her three golden tails swaying gently behind her.

Gaelen went completely rigid, and his hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sword.

Worse, the dark, cursed stains on his soul flared defensively, sensing the approach of a natural enemy.

Elia paused a few steps back, instantly locking onto Gaelen as well.

Nick observed the exchange closely, prepared to step in if the older man's paranoia led to violence.