The Alchemist I
*Later that day...*
Damien sat at a table with Edward and Troy, the weight of their conversation pulling the air around them into a thick, tense silence.
"So, let me get this straight..." Edward crossed his arms, his eyes sharp and calculating. "You actually ventured into the inner part of the city and came back... alive?"
"Yes." Damien's voice was steady as he slid a coin across the table. "See for yourself."
Edward picked it up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he examined the object.
After a few moments, he passed it to Troy, who scrutinized it before letting out a heavy sigh.
"We believe you. But what do you want from us?" Edward asked, his voice edged with suspicion. "You wouldn't show us something like this without a reason."
"First, I need to know what this coin really is," Damien said, eyes flickering with curiosity.
Edward's gaze darkened slightly. "It's exactly what you suspect—it's the key to the Golden Pavilion's real treasury. But I'd advise against using it unless you're absolutely certain you're ready."
Damien leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So, I can access it anytime now? The runes on the door won't stop me?"
Troy scoffed, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. "If you think runes on the door are the only protection guarding that treasury, then you're more foolish than I thought."
An uncomfortable silence settled over them, thick and suffocating.
Damien's eyes narrowed, his mind churning. "Just how rich were they?"
"Very," Edward replied, his tone sober. "At their peak, the Golden Pavilion had five Rank 6s in their ranks.
But after the incident that wiped out their leader and destroyed their headquarters, they've since scattered."
"But they're still around?" Damien asked, intrigued.
"Yes," Troy nodded. "Unlike the Forechester, who were completely wiped out, the Pavilion survived because they weren't a singular family. They had outposts everywhere."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "The Forechester were merchants too. Didn't they have outposts?"
"They did," Edward admitted. "But most were destroyed in the raids that followed. Their secret bases likely fell into disuse over time. And unlike the Pavilion, every single one of our Rank 6s was gravely injured."
"You talk as if you were there..." Damien's gaze sharpened. "You don't seem like the fanatic type."
Another wave of silence washed over the room, deeper and more unsettling than before.
Realization dawned on Damien. "Wait... if you two are that old, then you're Rank 6s, aren't you?" His voice dropped, awe creeping into his tone.
Edward and Troy exchanged glances but remained silent.
Damien knew not to press further. Instead, he shifted the conversation. "If the city was the centre of trade back then, there must be more treasuries like the Golden Pavilion, right?"
"Keep dreaming, kid," Edward replied with a smirk. "The Pavilion was the only merchant group that had its headquarters here. The rest set up shop in other cities, or even towns they controlled."
"Fine," Damien said with a sigh. "Then, here's my second question: I need your help convincing the other elders to let me bring more people here. All you'd have to do is vouch for me. In return, when I'm strong enough, I'll find a way to cure all of you—and we'll keep our current deal intact."
*******
As they walked through the narrow, dimly lit streets, Damien glanced over at Troy and Edward.
"So... where exactly are we headed?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"We're going to meet one of the elders," Troy answered without looking back.
"An old friend of yours?"
Edward hesitated for a moment. "Not quite. But a descendant of one—Derek."
"And who was Derek?"
Edward's expression softened, a distant sadness creeping into his voice. "Derek was an alchemist.
A brilliant one. He could turn an ordinary forest fruit into a powerful tonic.
His potions kept us alive longer than we should have survived... which is also why he died before any of us."
"I see..." Damien muttered, feeling the weight of their loss. "Did no one continue his work? Or did you lose all of his recipes?"
Edward and Troy exchanged a helpless look before Edward spoke. "The recipes are still here, but... they're difficult to replicate. We lack the materials. And training someone to even a basic level would require hundreds of mistakes and resources we don't have."
Troy added, "Derek's daughter tried. She's kind—too kind. After her father's death, she dedicated herself to his craft, but in doing so, she's ruined her own health. Now, she can barely leave her home."
"And yet," Edward continued, his voice laced with admiration, "she still works. Every day, she strives to perfect her formulas. But... she's convinced her work is never good enough. She won't let us use any of her potions."
Damien frowned. "That's... not good. If she's a shut-in and won't share her creations, then—"
"It's not all bad," Edward cut him off.
"Despite her self-doubt, she's making progress. Slowly, but surely."
As Damien listened, his mind raced. 'An alchemist, hidden away in this village... if she's as skilled as they say, this could be invaluable. But her perfectionism is harming not only her but the entire village.'
He couldn't help but think about how this problem might be fixed.
"With a decent alchemist, the younger ones could explore the forest again," Edward said, his tone suddenly hopeful. "We could have potions for healing, antidotes for poison... we wouldn't have to fear every little injury."
Damien remained silent for a moment, piecing it all together. Finally, he asked,
"What if the village regains its potion and material supplies?"
Edward's eyes brightened. "Then we could increase training, explore the forest... maybe even reclaim some of what we've lost."
_______
[Ding: Quest Activated]
[Ding: Convince the pessimistic alchemist to resume production of potions and alchemical goods, allowing the villagers of Gleyma to explore the forest safely once more.]
[Reward: Support from Troy and the alchemist, +100 reputation with Gleyma.]
________
Damien smiled as he read the system notification, knowing he had struck gold.