studiobondurri Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 4
Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 4
Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Mmm, so good...
Frianne walked out of her guest villa – calling it a guest shophouse felt too weird – feeling a sense of relief she hadn’t known she needed. Ludmila walked out behind her and lightly shut the door before strolling back with her to the row of outlets on the western side of the too-large village square. They came across Dimoiya sitting in one of the shaded benches facing the shops, taking notes on some sheets of summoned paper.
“You’re not going to be able to carry all your observations back at this rate,” Frianne looked at the thick pile of already-used paper beside Dimoiya.
“I’ll hire a wagon if I must!” Dimoiya replied, then looked up at Frianne with a frown, “Did something good happen, Prez?”
“I suppose you could say that,” Frianne smiled. “The salve that Ludmila recommended worked wonders. I’m amazed that something like it exists.”
“You probably don’t see it in the Empire because it isn’t deemed practical,” Ludmila said.
“I’ll ‘practical’ anyone in the face with a Fireball if they claim that,” Frianne muttered. “My mother’s only advice was to not scratch, so I just sat around trying not to go crazy.”
“Was it really that bad?” Dimoiya asked.
“Your turn will come,” Frianne answered. “Who created this salve, anyway? It even removes stretch marks!”
“My chambermaids started complaining about the same thing halfway through their pregnancies,” Ludmila said. “I remember my old villagers talking about it as well, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask my Alchemists if they could come up with something. It’s quite handy – especially with so many new families on their way throughout my fief.”
“I bet it would still sell in the Empire,” Frianne said. “Any Noblewoman going through the same thing would snatch it up without a second thought. How much does it cost to produce?”
“Not much,” Ludmila replied. “The problem is limited supply. You’ll find this to be an overarching theme when it comes to my territory.”
Frianne looked beyond the square to the vast wilderness surrounding them in all directions. How could that be? If Ludmila said that the salve didn’t cost much to produce, Frianne could only assume that the reagents weren’t rare.
“Shouldn’t that naturally bring the price of everything up?” Frianne asked.
“It might if it was something that a Pharmacist could concoct,” Ludmila answered.
“So you mean to say that it costs mana.”
Ludmila nodded.
“Mana economies are tricky to juggle,” she said. “Unlike collecting physical resources, it’s not something we can directly solve by piling on more Undead labour. However, working within the restrictions of a mana-based economy and the perspective that it gives has proven instrumental in identifying and embracing the systems that exist in my territory.”
A society bound by its mana economy? It was an intriguing notion.
The Empire – or any other society that Frianne knew of, for that matter – treated its mana economy as unnecessary in the mundane affairs of the country. In the Imperial Administration’s view, magic casters were something like cream to be skimmed off of greater imperial society for the exclusive use of the Empire. They even had several formulas to help them figure out how much of that ‘cream’ existed for collection, which informed the state’s quotas for recruitment and industrial development.
This need to control its mana economy was essentially the backdrop to the Empire’s long power struggle with the Temples. It couldn’t try to directly wrest control away, so all it could do was keep the Temples’ political power in check while looking for ways to undermine their practical monopoly on healing magic.
“If you’ve pinned your mundane economy to your mana economy,” Frianne said, “your growth will be incredibly stunted compared to conventional development.”
“When phrased in those terms,” Ludmila said, “that’s not wrong. But whether something is considered ‘stunted’ or not should depend on local policy and development goals rather than comparisons to other economies. In many situations, it is unavoidable – especially when those comparisons are made to ensure survival. In others, it’s a product of behaviours induced by subconscious subservience to savage instinct. The Empire has gone from the former to the latter with its admission as a client state of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”
“We cannot simply bind ourselves to our mana economy,” Frianne said. “Well, I suppose that we could, but millions would perish in the process. The Empire would be a hollowed-out shell of its former self.”
“I’m not demanding that you do,” Ludmila replied. “Additionally, your notion of a mana economy as being the net mana throughput of all magic casters participating in a system only covers a fraction of what I account for in this territory’s mana economy. By certain measures, the Empire is already operating within the limits of its mana economy, so it’s not as worrisome a thing as you think.”
“You’re going to have to elaborate on what you’re saying, then.”
“I’ll try,” Ludmila said. “But first, where’s Rangobart?”
Dimoiya pointed to the outlet selling alchemical goods and magic items.
“He’s in there being a Rangobart,” she said.
They found Rangobart at the counter of the shop surrounded by a half-dozen women of varying ages. Every one of them was competing for his attention by offering him information that he wanted to know while simultaneously employing their feminine charms in a bid to keep that attention.
“I’m shocked that this can happen here,” Frianne said.
“Why is that?” Ludmila asked.
“No offence intended,” Frianne answered, “but followers of The Six always struck me as prudish.”
“It isn’t as if one ceases being Human if they worship The Six,” Ludmila said. “Besides, all of those women are arcane casters. Rangobart is quite the catch from their perspective.”
Did you invite him over as a stud?
“Officer Roberbad,” Ludmila called out. “I won’t get in the way of your romantic adventures, but they must remain here.”
“I’m not trying to embark on any ‘romantic adventures’,” Rangobart squeezed his way out and straightened his coat. “Are we ready to depart?”
“Yes,” Ludmila replied, then looked past Rangobart’s shoulder. “Miss LeNez, we need you to come along, as well.”
“Sweet!”
A blonde woman showing off her curvy figure beneath her open brown robe came up behind Rangobart with a grin.
“This is Germaine LeNez,” Ludmila said. “A master at our Faculty of Alchemy.”
“Is she the creator of that salve?” Frianne asked.
“Which salve?” Miss LeNez asked.
“The, erm...”
Frianne reached into a belt pouch and produced a glass jar. She held it out so the Alchemist could see the label.
“Ah, the belly butter,” Miss LeNez nodded. “Pat did most of the work figuring that one out.”
“Another master at the faculty?”
“Nope, an Apprentice working at our lab in the Upper Reaches. She collaborated with Vicar Aspasia – er, a Cleric on the expedition that’s running somewhere down there – to come up with a working formula.”
“Isn’t research beyond that expertise of an Apprentice?”
“Experimentation is one of the cornerstones of Alchemy! Why wouldn’t she be doing her own research?”
“A difference in culture, I suppose,” Frianne said. “Grant holders dictate what gets researched in the Ministry of Magic. Apprentices in private workshops pay off their indentures through their work, just like any other Apprentice under the Guilds.”
“I see. Well, it’s like they say: too much control stifles innovation. In Re-Estize, the people in charge didn’t care much at all about magic, so magic casters there aren’t exactly bogged down by demand for their products and services. We generally did what we wanted outside of feeding ourselves.”
Frianne pondered Miss LeNez’s words. They were extremely counterintuitive. One would assume that the Empire, with its long-term investment in national institutions for magic, would overwhelm the pitifully mundane Re-Estize in the field of magical innovation.
“Though you say so,” Frianne said, “the Empire is clearly the leader between the two countries when it comes to all things magical.”
“In scale, for sure,” Miss LeNez admitted, “When it comes to one’s personal understanding of magic, however, I bet an Apprentice Wizard in the Empire only knows what their master deigns to teach them. Come to think of it, you have that magic academy, too. Everyone’s probably forced to learn the same thing. The chance of having independent thinkers is slim when success is reliant on adhering to someone else’s standard.”
“They’re functional standards,” Frianne told her. “I won’t claim that the way we do things is perfect, but the Imperial Magic Academy provides its students with the foundation that they need to help build the Empire.”
“And while the Empire lays that foundation, you bury the only childhood that those students have. The best time to experiment, make mistakes, and learn is when you’re young. By the sounds of it, the Empire’s mages don’t get that chance until they’re old and can’t afford to screw up anymore.”
Miss LeNez couldn’t have been more than ten years her senior, yet she unflinchingly argued her case. Frianne wondered what sort of background she had to hold such conviction in her views.
“When do you start flinging spells at one another?” Ludmila asked.
Dimoiya stuck hers on her forehead. Ludmila led them back out and around the front office, where they got a good view of the Undead drilling on the stony fields. Hundreds of Death Knights and Death Warriors moved in unison as their ‘sergeants’ walked up and down the ranks.
It took Fluder Paradyne and half of the Ministry of Magic to subdue one of these things. Can anyone expect to prevail over such terrible power?
“I still don’t understand why they need to train,” Frianne said.
“Specific training is essential in allowing them to act optimally in various situations and environments,” Ludmila said. “Rangobart can attest to the difficulties that military forces can face even when fighting in battlegrounds that they’ve prepared for.”
“That’s true,” Rangobart said, “though most of the problems were less about hitting things and more about reaching them.”
“I think that it’s something that anyone who fights the Death-series servitors learns quickly,” Ludmila nodded.
“Did it happen in the Draconic Kingdom, as well?” Rangobart asked.
“Oh, yes,” Ludmila replied. “We had the additional problem of fighting in the rainy season there. The entire country turned into mud, the Death Cavaliers were next to useless as a result, and the Beastman hunters ran circles around our infantry. They never entertained the idea of engaging us in conventional battle unless they knew they could destroy our troops.”
“The Beastmen had forces that could destroy Death-series servitors?”
“Yes. They were nothing like the stories we heard about the Draconic Kingdom suggested.”
The Draconic Kingdom occasionally sent requests for aid to the Empire, which were always summarily ignored. It was a good thing that they were or the Empire might have lost entire army groups.
“The Sixth Army Group will be resuming its campaign in the south at some point,” Rangobart said. “Should we expect to run into adversaries of similar strength?”
“They actually did on their first campaign,” Ludmila said. “Fortunately, Wagner and Gagnier reached the Wyvern Rider Tribes before General Ray’s forces got themselves wiped out by them. Before that, they ran into a Mountain Troll tribe and a Magical Beast that could have done the same.”
“I’m beginning to think whoever is responsible for my transfer is trying to get me killed,” Rangobart grumbled.
“I’m sure that General Ray has learned much from the experience,” Ludmila smiled. “Hopefully, the two of you get along. I don’t doubt that he’ll be taking full advantage of your talents.”
After observing a different field where Death-series Servitors were engaging in personal combat, Ludmila brought them out of the army base to catch the next passenger carriage heading south. It dropped them off in front of the Faculty of Alchemy a few minutes later.
“I’m beginning to see how you get all these buildings up so quickly,” Frianne examined the dormitories framing the main building. “Everything is very...samey.”
“An advantage to building temporary structures,” Ludmila said. “Parts can be mass-produced without needing to know precisely where they’re going. Our masons eventually worked out the system that you see used for all of the buildings in my demesne.”
“Wait, did you just say that these buildings are also temporary?”
“That’s right. Once we have a better idea of the faculty’s needs, we’ll be replacing these buildings with new temporary buildings. The one you see in front of you is essentially several warehouses attached to one another through a central corridor, with each warehouse serving as a workshop.”
Upon entering the building, they found themselves in a front office that was identical to the front office of the army base. In addition to the Elder Lich at the counter, Miss LeNez was awaiting them with two apprentices in tow.
“Welcome to the Faculty of Alchemy!” She said, “Prepare to be amazed at all the wonders we have in store for you.”
“...you didn’t add any unnecessary extras for this visit, did you?” Ludmila asked.
“Would it be bad if I did?”
“Yes.”
Miss LeNez glanced over her shoulder at one of her apprentices. The apprentice disappeared into the door behind him.
“So,” the master Alchemist said, “where would you like to begin?”
“I’d like an overview of your production facilities for healing potions and other restoratives,” Frianne said.
“Sure thing,” Miss LeNez turned around and gestured for them to follow. “I guess I should have expected that. The Empire’s our biggest customer for restoratives at the moment.”
“We are?”
“You didn’t know? The Imperial Army’s been buying up everything that they can. Those guys have been on the warpath since the beginning of winter.”
“The reorganisation of the Imperial Army has allowed us to better equip our soldiers,” Frianne said. “They’re not necessarily going to war.”
The Alchemist had her back turned to her, so she couldn’t tell whether she believed her or not. A few dozen metres down the corridor, they stopped at a nondescript door.
“Here we are,” Miss LeNez said. “Workshop A. The plainest of the plain.”
They stepped into a spacious workshop with alchemical equipment forming several aisles. Everything was completely utilitarian in its arrangement and the brown-robed Alchemists worked in a no-nonsense manner that suggested that they wanted to be done with their tasks as quickly as possible. In all, it wasn’t anything that Frianne hadn’t seen before.
“I can tell by your looks that this ain’t anything new,” Miss LeNez said. “Any questions?”
“Is this the only workshop producing restoratives?” Rangobart asked.
“It’s the only workshop producing normal restoratives. Put plainly, potion production involves preparing a solvent and imbuing it with the appropriate spell. It’s not something that requires a custom process for every potion. If we’re making a hundred potions, we prepare a hundred potions’ worth of solvent the day before. Then, we imbue a hundred potions and prepare the next batch of solvent.”
As she spoke, an apprentice walked by them with a crate full of herbs. She placed it on a counter where a set of men and women were busy preparing reagents.
“How do you procure your ingredients?” Frianne asked.
“They’re harvested from the surrounding wilderness. Since they’re wild plants, potions made with them are about ten per cent more effective than the garden-cultivated herbs that most Alchemists source from.”
“Wouldn’t that make supplies limited and unreliable for your production methods?”
“Not at all,” the Alchemist replied. “Baroness Zahradnik’s territory is so huge that we can massively outproduce a city’s worth of alchemists. We had to tell the Rangers to stop picking so many damn herbs because we can’t get through them fast enough. Any other questions?”
They stared silently at Miss LeNez for several moments before she clicked her tongue.
“I was hoping for more interesting questions,” she sighed. “Well, maybe they’ll pop up later. Lady Zahradnik, how far in am I allowed to take ‘em?”
“They only have basic security clearance,” Ludmila said.
“That’s it? Mmh...there are only a few other workshops they can enter, then. At least they’re all more interesting than this one.”
What does she mean by that?
Frianne gave the Alchemist a sour look as she walked back out into the corridor. She called the workshop that they were in the ‘plain’ one, but, personal tastes aside, every Alchemist’s workshop looked like that.
“What makes them more interesting?” Dimoiya asked as they followed her to the next door.
“Because they’re not mere production facilities,” Miss LeNez answered, “they’re where the frontiers of Alchemy are explored!”
“Uh...what does that mean?”
“Hmm, that’s a good question,” the Alchemist crossed her arms. “Let’s see...to begin with, have you ever asked yourself why reagents sourced from wild sources produce more potent products?”
“Not really...”
“I’ve heard from several colleagues that it was because they grew close to nature,” Frianne said.
“That’s the usual answer.”
“Is it not correct?”
“It’s technically correct, but it doesn’t answer the question.”
Miss LeNez stopped and opened the next door. Frianne shivered as a frigid mist flowed out into the corridor.
“To get the actual answer, we must first gain a basic understanding of the primal foundations of the world. Er...does everyone have Endure Elements?”