22. Buying It (Patreon)

Dorian took a breath. A deep breath, the sort he could feel all the way through his chest, up to his head, up to his spirit, even. Anger and annoyance surged in him. He felt it as a ball of twined energy in his chest, a quickening of his heartbeat, a shortness of breath.

He stepped back.

Admittedly he wasn’t always in complete control of his emotions—sometimes to an embarrassing degree for a Godking of his stature—but in moments like these, and with a spike as big as this, an alarm in his mind was set off. A concern which pulled him out of the mess.

With an effort of will, he stopped feeding into it. He cut off circulation to it and let the ball fade out. To him, anger was the most unhelpful emotion at the best of times, but lashing out at something this dumb was unforgivable. If he let an airhead Alchemist derail his plans, he deserved what came to him.

Instead he remembered his goals. He wished to get into brewing as fast as possible. In part he wished to make as big a profit as possible. Hu wished to keep him as a glorified servant, doing all the dirty work. How might he align their interests? Hu didn’t seem willing to budge far, true, but it was all a matter of framing.

An idea came to him. A really good idea. A mad-cackle-worthy idea.

“I understand, Master,” he nodded, brightening. “It’s my duty to do the menial tasks. How could someone of your talents be wasted on washing spoons or shining shoes? It’s my honor to take them off your hands—such chores are beneath you!”

“That’s right,” smiled Hu. “You’re getting it.”

“What other tasks might I take off your hands, master?” Dorian opened his eyes wide, imploring. “It’s my duty, after all.”

“Well…”

“Ah, I’ve got an idea!”

Dorian walked over to a shelf where a box full of flasks stood. Mere days ago, there’d been six full boxes; now, after the Vordor attacks, there were only two. These were the healing pills that Hu was required to make for the Clan Chief. Dorian had seen Hu’s minions lugging them around in the aftermath in the battle.

They were rote and a pain in the behind to produce. A basic elixir, one of the first taught to any beginner alchemist, its only difficulty was the tedium involved in brewing it. The first couple batches might’ve been fine, but there was only one alchemist in Rust Tribe.

Which meant Hu doubtless had to spend hours upon hours each week on the task.

“Master, what if you let me brew the Elixirs of Minor Healing—the ones you gotta send as rations for the Hunters every week?”

“Hmm?” Hu rubbed at his chin.

“I’ve free-brewed them before,” said Dorian earnestly. “You don’t even need to teach me—I’ll take care of it myself!”

Hu rubbed his chin harder. His brows drooped down. “It’ll be much harder than mere scrubbing, you know…”

“If it frees you up for more important things, I’m up to the challenge, sir!” He gestured to the rest of Hu’s potions stock. “Master, your genius is wasted on basic brews. I’m happy to take ‘em on.”

Then Dorian leaned in conspiratorially.

“Plus, after I finish the weekly quota I could brew up some more batches to sell…”

“Ohh?” There was now a glimmer in Hu’s eye.

“I could make a few changes to the recipe,” whispered Dorian. “I already got some ideas for it. Then I could go tent-to-tent and sell these ‘upgraded’ Elixirs of Healing—“

“Tent-to-tent?” Hu’s face rippled in a frown. “Alchemists don’t go tent-to-tent! We’re dignified—above such riffraff tactics!”

“Alchemists don’t,” said Dorian agreeably. “But alchemy apprentices might. Let me try taking over brewing this one base elixir, Master. I won’t disappoint you, I swear!”

“Hm…” Hu’s hands fell to his hips. His lips spread into an indulgent grin. “A magnificent vision! You’ve got spunk, boy.” He patted Dorian’s head. “A little too much spunk! Simmer down. It’s no good for apprentices to dream so big, heh. You’ve got the fire for it, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? Why don’t you stick to cleaning?”

He doesn’t wish to relinquish control just yet, it seems…

But clearly Dorian’s words rattled around Hu’s head like a fishbone stuck in a throat.

After a pause—“Say…” Hu gave him a side-on look. “How much do you think you’ll earn?”

Dorian shrugged. “Maybe—70 Lira?”

“Wh—70?!” Hu squared up to face up fully. The glimmer in his eyes grew stronger, but Dorian also saw skepticism in those trembling jowls. “Where'd you pull that number from? That’s—” He choked on his spittle.

More money than he earns in a week, probably.

Now he had Hu’s attention.

“Well, the rations of Elixirs aren’t enough to go around as is. I’m sure after the big Vordor scare a lotta folks would want an upgraded Healing Elixir as insurance…”

Hu blinked. His mouth moved from side to side as he thought. “You spin a nice tale!” He chortled. “But you might be letting your imagination get the better of you…” By the look on his face, though, he hadn’t quite managed to blink the coins from his eyes.

“How about this.” Dorian pointed to a rusted old cauldron. It sat sadly in a corner, wedged between two mounds of assorted trash. “That’s not in use, right? Let me cook up a few batches! I’ll be quiet. You won’t even notice me here, sir. I’ll try selling a few after—who knows? Maybe I’ll make you some money.”

“Try…” Hu humphed out. He chewed on the thought. Dorian waited. It was a nicely constructed tactic; he hit at two of Hu’s greatest weaknesses simultaneously: his loves of money and laziness.

If Dorian was right in his assessment—that Hu was, at his core, a simple creature with simple wants…he should be in the clear.

Indeed—after another few second’s thought, Hu grunted. His eyes narrowed. “Alright, alright. Against my better judgment, you get one batch. Just one!”

He held up a finger for emphasis. “If you do do a bang-up job of it—and your selling goes as you say—maybe I’ll consider letting you take it all over.”

Dorian bowed to his waist instantly. “Master, I won’t disappoint you!”

As a reincarnator, there were different times of pleasures he chased. Each was distinctive. The pleasure of leveling up was one. The pleasure of flaunting his powers was another.

But a third, wholly distinct pleasure was getting filthy rich. Disgustingly rich.

Deny me an Alchemist’s education? Deny me a lab and a full catalog of brews? So be it! He grinned. I’ll sell the most basic potion there is, and I’ll still drain this Tribe dry.

An hour later, he was nearly finished with the brew. The process was simple. The ingredients were common. In the end, Dorian had needed to rebuild half the elixir’s formula from the ground-up; as it was, the base formula was a bloated monstrosity of cancel-outs and ingredients which somehow delivered a healing effect. This is what happens when you found elixir formulas off of trial and error while forgoing any shred of logic. Dorian rolled his eyes. With a few tweaks he managed a near-50% increase in efficacy with a quarter fewer ingredients.

As he finished up, Hu strolled by and took a sniff. “Oho! You have changed the formula, you little rascal.”

“I’ll keep the old one for the regular rations batches,” grinned Dorian. “That way we can charge a premium for these.”

Hu turned to Dorian slowly, looking like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Premium?” He rubbed his hands. “Wonderful thinking, boy. Wonderful!”

Dorian smiled awkwardly. When the extent of your business acumen is ‘twenty percent off a random good’ every once in a while, I guess you’re easily impressed.

The next five minutes were spent filling flasks with the newfound liquid, which looked like fruit juice and smelled like blood, and stoppering them. Then, with a crate of twenty-five in stock—and he was oh-so-grateful for his recent buffs; not two days ago he’d have collapsed under this weight—he set off.

***

Alchemists had a reputation for haughtiness and pride. In this case it was well-earned. Having an Alchemy apprentice visit in person, then, was enough to flatter a tribesman already.

Plus, news of him had spread like wildfire across the Tribe; a good chunk now knew him by sight. Even before he’d hit up his first tent, he felt fresh eyes tracking his every move.

With both of these combined, it was almost too easy.

“Ch-chosen Io!” The leatherworker nearly fell over when he opened up his tent. His face split into a gap-toothed grin. “I just heard of yer promotion. Cheers! How can I help ye?”

It was a reaction that’d repeat itself many times that afternoon.

The first thing Dorian did was eyeball the man’s tent. Not bad—minor, collapsable furniture, a rug, a large chest, a little more posh than his and Kaya’s living spaces. The man looked older; clearly he had some savings.

By an eyeball, Dorian got a sense for just how much he could squeeze out of the man. He licked his lips. Using basic business tactics like price discrimination here was tantamount to cheating.

“Many thanks. What may I call you, sir?”

The man preened. “Ha, no need for the formal-i-ties, ah, Chosen. I go by Tsoai.”

“Tsoai!” Dorian smiled at the name. If he wanted to really hammer home the deal he’d inquire of the man’s work. Pay a compliment or two, maybe. But his arms were already getting sore, the sun was halfway down, and he had twenty-five elixirs left to sell. So he launched straight into his pitch.

Not three minutes later he walked away whistling, five Lira richer. Then he hit up a new tent—one of the mid-sized ones; the small ones it wasn’t worth squeezing from—and went at it again.

This time he got eight more. He moved onto the next with a sharklike smile.

His basic pitch was simple. He spoke to Tribesmen scared to their boots from a Vordor attack and sold them a brand-new, upgraded Healing Elixir; he usually stuck on a a few more adjectives to it to really sweeten it. He was selling lifeboats to occupants of a leaking ship.

Personalizing the pitches sealed the deal. Different groups got different messaging; he came up with a dozen angles on the spot. For the fathers, he leaned hard into the family angle—could he bear it if he chose to be stingy and forgo the elixir, only to have it cost his daughter her life? He might as well have been selling lifelines. For the Hunters it was the combat angle with a dash of pride thrown in. The rations were never enough, and always went to the higher-ups first! Now they had a chance to buy a newfangled Elixir, fresh out the cauldron—something even the Chief didn’t yet have access to. And did he mention it was 50% more effective?

Just for today, he added, they ran a special promotion; it was buy two, get one free!

The Hunters who were also fathers might as well have given Dorian their wallets.

Two hours later, and with a smattering of cooks, artisans, smiths, hunters, and others done, he stalked back to Hu’s shop and plunked a crate on the floor—now filled with coins instead of Elixirs. Hu looked up. His eyes grew three sizes.

“94 Lira,” said Dorian with a small, cheeky grin. “I overshot. What do you think?”

It was actually nearly 120, but I squirreled away a few. Hu doesn’t need to know about that.

Then some very weird noises came out of Hu’s mouth. His breaths came heavy. The first coherent sound he made was “HUH?!”

He ran up to it and pressed a hand to it, as though to make sure it was real. His moan was almost orgasmic. When Hu looked at him again there were tears in his eyes.

“Oh! It’s beautiful,” he sniveled, wiping his nose.

His head, and only his head, swiveled to Dorian. He was salivating.

“This, this—you did this? How?”

“I dunno. People seemed to want healing, and they liked that it was new n’ such.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I always had a knack for fast talking, anyways.”

Hu blinked slowly. “And you can sell more?”

“This is just the start,” said Dorian, shrugging. “Once we meet up with the other tribes, or even the Oases? I bet I could double it in an hour.”

“DOUBL—“

Hu leapt up. With one arm he cradled the crate like it was his baby. His eyes were shining so much they were practically torches. They were trained on Dorian like he was a scrumptious, fully-cooked egg.

Dorian paled a little.

I… may have overshot more than just my sales… and undershot my estimations of Hu’s miserliness…

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?” rasped Hu. His smile was ravenous. “Ho! I change my mind!”

“Er…”

“You got this much? With just a cracked pot and a darned Healing Elixir?!”

He was full-on frothing now as he whirled on Dorian. He shivered so much he nearly vibrated. Dorian was worried he might explode.

“From now on you get full reign, kid. Keep the Lira flowing and whatever you want—cauldron, recipe, ingredient—it’s yours!”