Chapter Three Hundred And Thirty Four - 334
Once more across the Beacon landing and up another set of stairs had Felix to the final Crafting Hall. The Alchemical Lab.
"And then there was one," Felix said.
"What?"
"Nothing, Karys."
This door was a plain, dark wood. Age worn, despite being recently constructed. It opened at his touch, and Felix could feel dozens of wards and locks disengaging the moment he chose to open it. Intent-sensitive, he realized. The other doors had opened the same way to his Authority, and likely would to their new Masters as well. Very cool.
Inside was just as impressive as the other Halls. Where the Forge was a study in metal and stone, and the Glyphworks was all pristine white, the Alchemical Lab was dark woods and black metal. All three Crafting Halls had a suite of rooms to them, each different in their own way, and the Lab was a long hall, almost sixty feet long and twenty wide. No less than six chambers branched off, three to a side, each marked by a trefoil arch and a dark wooden door, banded with iron. Sigils were marked out on the iron, each glowing very slightly with red-gold lightnot arrays or enchantments so much as signs. Or they would be. For now, every one read "Undesignated."
Central to the main Hall were a series of stations, much as the other Halls had individual crafting stations. An assortment of hooks and pliers, tweezers and clamps, all made of silver and gold and heavily inscribed. At a casual glance, they were meant to preserve whatever they held or dismembered; likely monsters. Felix even saw a field-dressing knife, much as Magda once owned, likewise enchanted to preserve monster flesh once cut, preventing it from sublimating into that noxious black smoke. Another station held alembics and vials, those weird tube-things that spiraled about, and other glass oddments. Inscribed points of the counters were meant to heat up to incredible temperatures, and others were meant to cool down, all of it operating on ice and fire Mana stored in reservoirs below the floor. Felix could sense them, the alternating pitch of the Mana itself; it wasn't a huge amount, nothing like what he could hold, but more than most folk he'd guess.
In the very center of the Hall was a desk larger than all the rest. Black and dark brown, iron and wood, filled with little planters and already budding plants. Not many, just a few local samples that Felix had seen growing atop the cliff, but plenty of room for more. For a whole little garden. Felix recalled the entry on his Authority menus, the one for his Garden, but a casual perusal of that showed him nothing in the sub-menu. It was clearly separate from what his Alchemical Lab contained.
Beyond the plantsamong them, reallywas a series of tables, basins, and the most elaborate set of alchemical paraphernalia he'd ever seen. Scales, alembics, aludels, odd pots and jars that looked to be woven of vines but were in fact a type of bronze. A large oven/furnace at in the center, with inscribed circles atop it in a series of stone rings mounted with black iron. The mountings were attached to a central frame and could rotate, so that the stack of enchanted rings could spread out like a tree. His Eye called it a Ladder of Ascension, which was interesting.
Name: Ladder of Ascension
Type: Alchemical Equipment (enchanted)
Lore: The name comes from persistent belief that alchemy was the path to the peak. The rotating rungs of the Ladder are individual heating or cooling surfaces, depending on how their inscriptions are activated. The arrays, however, are flawed and require more Mana that usual to operate.
It was, in essence, a far better equipped space than Aenea's was back during their fight against the Revenants. Better than it was now, even. Felix didn't know the purpose of half of the bits and baubles around him, but his Voracious Eye would solve that in some regards. He'd received some small instruction in Alchemy weeks prior, but there was no one else to take control of this Crafting Hall. Just him.
Congratulations!
You Have Chosen To Become The Master of the Nagast Alchemical Lab!
Alchemical Lab, Tier III!
Journeyman Tier Advancement Detected!
Primary And Harmonic Stats Exceed Minimum Values!
Primary And Harmonic Stats Exceed Average Values!
The Following Bonuses Now Apply:
15% Increase in Production Speed
-5% Resource Loss
5% Increase in XP Generation By Completing Craft Quests
0.5% Increase To Final Product Quality
Complete Quests to Advance The Glyphworks!
Advance Yourself To Increase Bonuses!
Before that window resolved, another followed, trilling across his senses.
Titles/Skills Meet Minimum Requirements!
The Following Special Bonuses Now Apply:
Title - Savant of the Green Wilds
+15% Effects And Harvests From All Flora
Title - Natural Scholar II
+1% Chance To Properly Harvest Uncommon And Lower Rarity Flora And Fauna
Skill - Aria of the Green Wilds
+50% Chance To Properly Harvest Rare And Lower Rarity Flora
+25% Chance To Properly Harvest Rare And Lower Rarity Fauna
All Titles And Skill Special Bonuses Apply To Those Working Under You.
As Autarch, That Includes All Sworn To Your Banner.
Fine. Your Stronghold too, I suppose.
Again, a faint noise, but this time it sounded of creaking branches and fluttering leaves. A pleased murmur. Pit rolled his eyes.
The Spirit Tree was still technically asleepattuning itself, whatever that meantbut that didn't stop it from occasionally reaching out to Pit across the strange connection it had established. One that enveloped Pit and his Companion Felix equally. Even the Sword-Armorthough to a far lesser extent. At best, that one could feel the slow awakening of the Tree as a nagging itch. To Pit it was a worm in his Mind, a serpent shifting after a long, restless sleep.
So far it had only communicated four times. Twice just now, and twice more just after Felix had done something below. A quick inquiry with his Companion had revealed he'd added dens of some sort to the rock, and it confused Pit as to how that affected the Tree in any way. Regardless, the Tree had been rustling and creaking away, conveying a sense of contentment. None of it made sense to Pit. Perhaps when he was done watching the Frost Giants he would speak with Felix about it all.
The Cold Children were another issue entirely.
Pit had been sent to keep an eye on them, and the past day had seen him tracing long patrols over their encampment, watching for suspicious activity. The chimera trusted them less than Felix did, and their Oath even less; they had proven themselves villains and would again. Pit simply had to spot it before it put anyone in danger. So as the Pretty Killer and Dangerous One had gone off into the forest along with those Wanderers, Pit had kept watch. And as the Axe, Firebrand, and the Stabby One retreated into the mountain to speak with Felix, Pit had continued.
For all his diligence, he saw the Cold Children do nothing more than construct their lodges and then a jagged wall around themselves. They grumbled and complained, and too few ever thought to look up, so Pit was able to hear some of their words. But most of them spoke their own tongue, and those words were gibberish. Angry gibberish, but without meaning or meaningful action, Pit could only continue to watch.
It was boring. And he was hungry.
So, when the day stretched into evening, and Felix landed among the Cold Children, Pit decided he'd watched long enough. He strayed from the Stronghold skies and the overarching branches of the Spirit Tree, heading north along the small western mountains. Along the river.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, though high as Pit flew he'd have light for hours yet. The sky turned fiery red and orange and gold, while pinks and greens played along the scudding clouds that floated higher still. To the east, darkness began to roll along the firmament, a dark purple bruising that spread incrementally with every moment. The fading light was no bar to Pit's Perception, however, nor to his burgeoning hunger. He scanned the forests below, looking for a half-remembered memory.
There.
He dove once more, dropping from the skies like a dark boulder, his russet and black plumage stark against the sunset. The emerald forest rose up, swallowing him.
Wingblade!
First one, then dozens of blades burst from Pit's formcondensed and shaped air Mana, spun out from his channels along each wing. They slashed downward, cutting through branches as thick as he was. Clearing the way. He bounded off of trunks, talons tearing deep gouges into bark and branch, until he leaped fully into a deep clearing. He spread his wings, allowing the dissipating air Mana from his Wingblades to lift him up just enough to counteract his immense downward velocity. With a resounding thud, Pit landed among fifty or sixty toppled trees.
So many...?
It was a field of fallen giants, as the smallest tree was easily three hundred feet tall. Most of the trunks bisected the entire clearing, leaning drunkenly upon their still-standing brothers and sisters and draped with moss and mushrooms the size of Pit's head.
Pit sniffed the air, tasting something tantalizing upon the breeze. Underfoot he found hundreds of fruit, most of them smashed to pieces. The fruit were a bright yellow interspersed with blue vertical striations, and from their scent they were delicious. A memory tingled at the back of Pit's mindof eating such fruit in the distant pasta memory that was nearly as enticing as the scent of its pungent flesh.
Pit gorged himself. He had remembered correctlythey were so very good. He ate and ate, cleaning the undergrowth of the sweet fruit, before his large body bumped into one of the fallen trees.
"Hissss!"
The tenku warbled questioningly, lifting his beak with juices still dripping, and beheld a fat little...thing. It wriggled at him, snapping sharp pincers the size of the Pretty Killer's throwing daggers. Pit nosed forward, sniffing.
"Hisss! Sklurb!"
A jet of bright green Mana spewed outward; it was that which was hissing, not the wriggle-thing. The liquid splashed against Pit's face and beak, smelling of familiar things before it started to tingle. Pit drew back and shook his face, casting much of it out and against the undergrowth. Plants and weeds sizzled, burning away as the liquid touched them.
You...attacked me?
The wriggle-thing undulated forward, a small hop but aggressive, and Pit growled low in his throat. It was a basso rumble, quaking through his wide chest and out into the air. Yet the wriggle-thing only reared back, displaying its nubby, clawed appendages and clashing its mouth daggers.
Pit killed it instantly with a Frost Spear.
You Have Killed A Copse Grub!
XP Earned!
Oooh. New food. He lunged forward and bit into it, finding it rubbery but delicious. Spicy, too. He devoured the grub's corpse in a few bites, before his Perception caught the wriggle-hiss of more, each of them boring through the fallen trees. He let out a warbling cry before sending out a storm of Wingblades, each one severing a fallen trunk in two. From within, countless grubs spilled out of carved tunnels and acid-worn abscesses.
Mm. Dinner.
Some time later, when evening's dark had finally caught up with him, Pit lazed upon a tangle of split trunks. His tummy was full and his mood much improved. He barely minded it when a shadow appeared atop a wind-sheared stump and chortled at him.
"Pleased with yourself?" A'zek asked.
The harnoq was sleek and deadly looking, his black fur and dark scales almost melding with the yawning purple shadows of late evening. Pit tilted his head questioningly at his fellow chimera.
A'zek snorted. "You've gorged on fallen fruit and harmless bugs. Is this what a Guardian Beast amounts to?"
Pit trilled and settled himself further atop his makeshift nest. Sleepy. Ihis head snapped up. Guardian Beast?
"Do you know what it means, Pit? What a Guardian Beast truly is?"
They...guard? he asked. He was a protector for his Companion, for his friends. His wings rustled along his back, suddenly restless. What else?
"That isn't the half of it, little one." A'zek hopped down off the stump, barbed tail lashing. "There are deeper mysteries, if you know how to listen." Without another word, the harnoq vanished into the gathering gloom, leaving Pit to stare after him.
Little one? I'm big. Pit stood. And you'll not be rid of me so easily, A'zek. Tell me what you know!
Kicking off his trees, Pit followed the harnoq into the dark.
