[Wake up!
Please, wake up!
Bazil!
Wake up!
Please, don’t die…
I don’t want to be alone…
Not anymore…
Please, wake up…
Snirfl…]
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The days following the first batch of healing potions brewing, Mikhaïl showed his two assistants how to make mana potions too. On Sunday, at the end of the week, the Alchemist and his two students had managed to meet their quotas. They may have been exempted from it for the first week but Mikhaïl prided himself in always meeting his deadlines. That had left him with no time to look after his treasured plant. Damian was the one making sure it was ok.
Conscious that a well-rested body and mind were necessary to work in a safe environment. He had chosen not to overwork himself or the two slaves under him. But of course, he had first made the lab a safer place to work than he found it. By producing and securing healing potions in places that were both easy to reach and hard to accidentally damage.
Always having healing potions on hand was primordial.
During those few days, he had also shared a bit of knowledge about the Human body. The test subject was clearly afraid, but the Beorn didn’t care for Akim’s mental well-being. His work and the training of his students were more important.
Speaking of which, he was particularly glad of Silvia. The girl was extremely eager to learn and do good. He had a feeling it had more to do with her Slave Class and a will to please him and be rewarded with kind words than real love for alchemy. During his nights he had shared meals with other slaves in place of importance, like him, and had learned a few things about the Slave Class. For example, the basics of how the Good slave Skill worked, it was the specific Skill that made Slaves feel good when someone their Class recognized as a valid master gave them any kind of reward, or when they followed their orders.
It meant the young woman was more interested in following Mikhaïl orders and pleasing him than really learning alchemy. Mikhaïl could work with that. He would teach the girl to share his views and to love the art that was alchemy.
The other assistant he had, Damian, was far less enthusiastic about Mikhaïl lessons. The man clearly followed his orders and instructions out of fear of the consequences of not doing so. That too the Beorn could work with. Fear was a strong motivator and the man was far from useless. He was a Gardener after all, and Mikhaïl had a plant to take care of.
Anyway, it was late in the afternoon and if he wanted to hand over the potions before the end of the week he only had one hour left.
“All right, we’re done for the day. Damian, clean the place and close the lab,” he said. “Silvia, take the crate of mana potions and come with me, we’re going to bring them to the intendant.”
“Yes, Sir,” the assistants replied, complying with the orders.
A few minutes later Mikhaïl and Silvia arrived at the camp’s storehouse.
“Hello! We’re here to hand over the new potions!” Exclaimed the furred man upon passing the front door.
“Comming!” A voice answered from the back of the room.
Waiting Mikhaïl examined the place. It was a big storehouse, the front of it was in wood and accessible from the canyon, and the bulk of it was dug in the cliff. He expected to see a big place, but he hadn’ thought it would be that big, looking at the walls, the Beorn could see some parts were natural but that most of it had been extended by men’s work.
The place was full of shelves, most were empty but there were a lot of crates on the side. A team of slaves was emptying the crates, cataloging, and storing the articles on what Mikhaïl assumed were the corresponding shelves.
The Herborist in him noticed the low, very low, amount of herbs in the place, it was a pity. But the Alchemist he also was saw a lot of potions on their shelves. He wondered why he had to make potions every week if the bandits had so much in stock. Potions aged and lose potency, but it took years for even the lowliest of them to do so in any noticeable way.
While Mikhaïl was looking around, a small and old man came to the front and looked at the Alchemist before addressing him.
“Hi young man, it’s been a while since I saw a Beorn. I’d heard words that we had one now, but I found them hard to believe. So, you’re our new alchemist, right? And you brought your first batch? Perfect, it seems you’ve got some potential. Let me see those,” the tiny man said while grabbing the crate of healing potion from Mikhaïl’s hands, not letting him place a word. “Hmmm, middle-grade, almost high-grade even. With what I recall Massim had in store it’s great work. You really do have potential. And I see that young Silvia got the mana potions too? Excellent! Let me see them,” the intendant, or at least Mikhaïl assumed it was him, handed over the healing potions’ crate to a slave passing by and took the crate of mana ones from the assistant alchemist. “Hmmm, same quality. I’m glad to have you in the lab if you can manage that quality of products with what you got to work with. So, twenty middle-grade healing potions and ten mana ones. You didn’t even have to make them since it’s your first week. Sarah told me that. Eager to be of help humm? Now is there anything I can do for you?” Asked the man while passing over the second crate of potions to another slave and looking at Mikhaïl a white and bushy eyebrow raised.
“I’ve been told that I’m allowed a weekly budget? I’d like to use it to order some ingredients if you can procure them for me. I’d also like to know if there is any way to raise that budget.”
“For the budget it’s easy, either you procure exactly what’s expected from you and you can use what’s left of the money as you want. If you don’t use all of it, it won’t go away, I keep track of everything and what’s not used is still there for later. Or you can bring me higher quality potions, or more of them, or anything else that can be of use. If you do I’m allowed to raise your budget a bit for the next week. But if you want a permanent and substantial increase, you’ll have to see with Karim,” the man explained quickly. “Now, what would you like to buy?”
“Excellent, I’ll have better work for you next week. Now I’d like to see what you have in store. And can you procure seeds? I have a Gardener in my lab, so I’d like to make use of him and have him directly grow the herbs I’ll need. I’m also an Herbalist, so I prefer to work with plant materials rather than animal or mineral ones,” Mikhaïl explained in turn.
“Ah, yes. It’s right you got young Damian to work with, he’s a good worker when properly motivated,” the Human said with a smirk.
“I noticed,” the Beorn answered with a smirk of his own. He also heard Silvia snicker where she patiently waited.
“Now, come with me I’ll show you what I have in stock. You can use this week’s budget as it has not been used yet. And since the week is almost finished, I’ll allow you to use the next one too. I’ll even throw a few gifts since you seem so eager to work well,” he said gesturing for Mikhaïl to go with him.
“Perfect. Silvia, dear, please go fetch us dinner and wait for me in the lab,” said the alchemist while following the intendant.
The two of them talked for a while, Antoine, the intendant, explain to Mikhaïl how things worked for acquiring stuff. Apparently, once a week a team would go to Wadrabak to buy supplies and sell part of the bandits’ loot or excessive supplies. The town wasn’t that far and they made the trip and back in five days, and since they departed on Moonday each week, it meant that Mikhaïl would get the stuff he ordered on Faonday, two days before the end of the week. He would need to plan his orders to the intendant then and be sure not to run to low with his ingredients.
During their talk, the Beorn also learned how much the Human responsible for the stocks loved to have a bit of everything useful in reserve. He was always ready for bad events to happen. At any moment the encampment had enough resources to sustain a month-long siege. When the stores were full, they could last a year without the need for rationing. The Alchemist now understood why they wanted him to produce potions each week, they were securing a good provision of the goods.
They had a minimum amount of potions for emergencies, like him in his lab. But they also had a fluctuant stock for bandits going on a raid, and a big amount stashed for times of need. Everything in excess would be sold in town by the merchant team.
During the numerous conversations he had with the people in the camp in his short week here, Mikhaïl had realized the bandits’ encampment was more akin to a small town, or a big village. One with four social groups of people.
The first and most important were the bandits themselves. They were ruling the place and constituting its armed forces. Going on raids to plunder and capture slaves to be trained and sold on big events once every two months. They were also responsible for the security of the encampment and the traders going to Wadrabak.
The second group was constituted by free people working for the Blood Sand bandits. The intendant Antoine was part of this group and Mikhaïl would probably be too one day. In this group also were the families of the bandits, for those who had one. The Beorn had been surprised to learn that some bandits had spouses and children in the encampment. But thinking about it made some sense, the bandits would be less tempted to betray Karim for monetary gains and better motivated to protect the camp. It was also an excellent way to keep morale high and stable. Most of the people in charge of administrating the town or its facilities were part of this group.
The third group was the one Mikhaïl actually belonged too. The trusted slaves. It was full of people considered slaves but who had gained enough trust from the bandits to be allowed some modicum of freedom and were able to live with relative peace. They formed the majority of the crafters and helpers, often under the supervision of someone from the second group. Mikhaïl assumed Silvia was spying on him on Sarah’s behalf, but he didn’t mind, as long as the bandits would uphold their part of the bargain, he would do the same. And what a place to conduct his research, he should have joined some bandits sooner.
The last group was the one with the unruly and untrained slaves. Those recently captured, in training, or too stubborn to accept their lives. According to the monetary value they could reach when auctioned they were either trained to be better slaves or used in labor to improve the camp.
A fifth group could be said to exist. It was the friends and informants of the bandits but who were not part of them. Living all around the country they arranged for the town to learn when a juicy target was going to pass near their territory or when some military forces were ready to try their hands at cleansing the region of their influence. They were also those who made the most of the trade with the bandits.
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Shit, shit, shit! Damian thought.
Working with the mad Beorn alchemist and the crazy Human girl was already bad enough for his stomach pain. But he also had to take care of the plant. And he had a bad feeling about it.
When the new lab master had tasked him with taking care of the plant and said he would teach them to become better alchemists and even Alchemists, Damian had hoped things were improving for him.
But then he had to hurt a man, and every day he looked at him, unable to help. Damian was a coward, he didn’t like pain, but he wasn’t a monster, and if he could he would help. It was easy for him to ignore the pain and suffering of slaves he didn’t see, but the one tied to the table was impossible to forget.
Fear was the thing that prevented Damian to help the poor man. He’d liked to untie him and let him escape, but he feared the consequences for himself if doing so. It would probably not be as horrible as Mikhaïl had promised him for failing to take care of the plant, but he didn’t want to tempt fate. He could find himself tied to the table next.
Something else bothering him was the plant itself. Damian had worked with lots of plants before being captured and made a slave. He was a Cook and a Gardener, he had worked in the vegetable garden of a merchant. He was furnishing the kitchen with greens and occasionally helped prepare the meals. And never had he seen a plant like this one.
Every day he watered it and used his Help growth Skill on the weird vegetable. And the thing was growing fast. It was growing so fast Damian already thought about requesting a bigger pot to transfer the plant. It was also sprouting a thin stolon, the wandering root was elongating faster than the plant itself grown, it would gain more than a full meter every day and Damian would then coil it around the pot, too afraid to cut it.
The speed at which the plant was growing meant it was absorbing the nutrients in the soil far too quickly for its own good, Damian already had to change the earth. It had allowed him to see the big potato in the shape of an erect penis. That had somehow managed to both relieve some of his stress - a good and childish laugh - and worry him even more.
All that was without forgetting the carnivorous leaves. Those kinds of plants never grown in the region, it was far too dry. But this one had, according to the crazy Alchemist and Herborist. Damian made sure to put a bit of meat in it every day, if the plant had grown some carnivorous parts he would not deprive it of its meals.
And there was the high amount of poison imbuing almost the whole plant. By itself, it was too weak to kill Damian, but it could give him a painful rash. Adding to it the sharp thorns present on every external surface convinced the Gardener to use gloves when handling the plant.
All of that made Damian think someone had somehow engineered the plant. And that a seed had found a place to grow in the desert. The plant had been lucky Mikhaïl had found it, or it would have dried up in the sand. And now Damian was unlucky as he had to take care of it.
His nights were full of nightmares. He was tied to the table by the plant thorny stolon and a barking Mikhaïl was ordering Silvia to cut him. The girl would laugh while taking a big thorn shaped knife and would cut his manhood. Then the plant would crawl all over Damian’s body and install its weird potato to replace his lost member, growing roots in his body and takin it over.
The Gardener would wake up in sweat on his straw mattress, checking if everything was correctly in place. Unable to go back to sleep he would let his mind wander. Maybe he could find a way to escape, but if he was captured back he would be punished. Or he could try to make himself indispensable to his boss. Yes, that was a much safer option. He would do his best to help the plant grow big and strong and to be of use to Mikhaïl. In time he may find a way to regain his freedom.
Deluding himself with nice thought about a better future, Damian didn’t hear the plant grow in the lab. His and Silvia’s sleeping place was a room adjacent to their workplace, and the following days would bring him new reasons to worry.
This is really good. Write more if it please
thanks for the chapter
Thanks for the chapter!
mükemmel rüya
Hehehe groot