Chapter 262 - Westport (Patreon)

Tucker sat on the back of one of the wagons, his attention focused inward on the spatial storage that had come with [Alchemist’s Constitution]. It wasn’t full – not by any means – but its contents were far more robust than they’d been when he’d joined Athis’s caravan. He’d also made a fair bit of money in the last few weeks, courtesy of his ability to make various inebriants for the caravan’s guards and drivers.

Technically, they were poisons, but that could be said of any liquor or drug. Either way, he’d stumbled on that money-making scheme by accident when, within an hour of Tucker being picked up, Athis had remarked that the caravan had run out of alcohol. Seeing the situation for the opportunity it was, Tucker had started in on his new, albeit temporary, career as a moonshiner. And after only a few days’ of experimentation – and Athis’s eager testing – he’d stumbled upon a concoction that would get the giant lizards drunk. From that day on, Tucker was one of the most popular people around, and he’d managed to make quite a bit of money in the form of small, jeweled beads.

He'd then used those beads to buy any alchemical supplies he could find. He had a little glassware in his storage space, but it was a rudimentary travel set. He needed something better. But even the sack of beads he’d made since starting to sell his alcohol wasn’t enough for that, so in order to solve that problem, he needed to make more potions to sell when they arrived at Westport, their destination.

He had been moderately successful, and that had proven that talented alchemists were just as in demand in this new world as they were in the last. That boded well for his future. While he didn’t have Zeke’s unique looting power – or the ability to take full advantage of something like that even if he did – Tucker had always been capable of making his own way. Give him a few days in the wilderness, and he could make enough potions to finance whatever he wanted to do.

But even then, he often spent money as quickly as he got it. After all, alchemy equipment and rare ingredients were incredibly expensive. And working with the cheaper, more mundane materials wasn’t how a man progressed in his path. No – if he wanted to grow, he needed to continue to push himself with increasingly rare and potent ingredients.

And anything that could be described in those terms was expensive, no matter the world.

Still, his little nest egg had given him a good start. Now, he just had to harness that momentum and keep it going once they arrived in Westport. And for that, he needed allies – or at least business partners – almost as much as he needed money. He was a stranger in a strange land, after all. He had no idea what to expect once they reached their destination.  Fortunately, Athis had taken a liking to him.

So, with a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and walked along the top of the eerily stable wagon until he reached the front. Once there, he hopped down beside the giant lizard man.

Or dragon man, as he’d learned.

Athis, along with everyone else in the caravan, was one of the Kirr, a race of humanoid reptiles whose mythology said they were descended from dragons. As such, they were a powerful people whose strength and durability far outstripped that of comparably leveled humans. Physically, they were extremely formidable; however, they paid for that by having a very narrow selection of classes. Most, like Athis, were pure warriors whose skills were confined to various forms of personal enhancement. Their mana was incapable of affecting anything outside of their scaly skin.

Of course, a few of their number were accorded a shaman-esque class that overcame many of these deficiencies, but they were both rare and limited to healing skills.

Because of this, the Kirr had never conquered as they had on their home world, which Athis described as a huge grassland. Few Kirr ascended anymore; most of their race had been born in this new world, which Tucker had been told was called Oros.

On Oros, Athis and his kin had been forced to make their way as mid-level mercenaries, merchants, or, as Tucker suspected of his new companion, bandits. This suspicion was based on one simple thing. Athis didn’t have the demeanor of a caravan driver or a merchant. He wasn’t precisely bloodthirsty, but there were times when Athis reminded Tucker of Zeke. And Athis wasn’t the only one, either. Most of the other Kirrans were similar in attitude.

Of course, that was all just conjecture, but Tucker had always had a good sense for those sorts of things, which, in the past, he’d often used to procure some of his more unusual ingredients.

Athis didn’t look up. Instead, he held out a large, clawed hand, palm up. Tucker shook his head and produced a vial from his storage. He placed the glass tube on Athis’s palm, saying, “You know, in my world, there were laws against drinking and driving.”

The Kirran didn’t immediately respond; instead, he popped the vial’s cork and downed the contents before saying, “This stuff ain’t near strong enough to affect my judgement. Not like good ice whisky. When we get to Westport, I’ll buy you a drink. Then, you’ll see what a real brewer can make.”

“I’m not a brewer,” Tucker said, taking the vial back from Athis. “I just know a few recipes.”

Athis snorted, leaning forward as he gripped the reigns. The creatures that were pulling the wagon – which were called Naa’al – didn’t need much guidance, but still, Athis insisted upon maintaining control as they steadily rolled down the surprisingly smooth, stone road. There were plenty of bumps and ruts, but the wagons had been enchanted for stability, so none of that jostling made it past the axles.

Still, the sight of the Naa’al reminded him of a question that had been nagging at him for the past few days. So, he asked, “Why do you need the beasts, anyway?”

“What?” asked Athis. “To pull the wagon, my friend. Do you not know how this works? I thought you intelligent.”

“No, no – I understand that much,” Tucker said, a little annoyed at having his intelligence questioned. He might have been host to a plethora of flaws, but stupidity wasn’t one of them. “In the world I left behind, most of the carts were self-propelled. We also had spatial boxes that –”

“Doesn’t work like that,” Athis said. He slapped the wooden seat of the wagon, saying, “Would take a mighty enchantment to locomote this thing at an appropriate speed, and mighty enchantments require mighty maintenance. And mana. Sure, some of the bigger outfits can afford to have an enchanter in the caravan, but we…ah…we don’t mess with those. The Naa’al are cheaper and less prone to breaking down.”

“Mess with them?” asked Tucker.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do, Athis,” Tucker said. “Look – I’ll be straight with you here. You’ve treated me well so far, so I don’t want dishonesty standing between us, okay?”

Athis grunted, but he didn’t articulate a verbal response. Instead, the draconic man kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m pretty sure you hijacked this caravan,” Tucker stated. Then, before Athis could react, he went on, “Not that I have any issue with that, just to be clear. The way I see it, you do what you’ve got to do to survive, right? My point is that when I get to Westport, I need allies. Friends. You know enough about my situation to know that if I try to make it on my own, things might get difficult for me.”

“You’ll probably get snatched up by some noble house and forced to brew potions for them,” reasoned Athis.

“I’ve been there before,” was Tucker’s quiet response. He tightened his fists as he remembered being kept as Micayne’s prisoner. After escaping, he’d vowed to never be put in that kind of a position again. While he was held captive, it had been easy to sacrifice his own morals; after all, he hadn’t had a choice, so he couldn’t be held accountable for what he did. However, with the passage of time, he’d come to realize that a lack of choice didn’t excuse his actions. “Never again. I’ll die first.”

Then, Athis turned to look at him. The Kirran’s eyes were reptilian, his attention, unnerving. But Tucker held the draconic man’s gaze.

“Good. That fire is good,” Athis said. “Yes, Tucker – we are bandits, and this caravan represents our spoils.”

Tucker’s dark face split into a grin as he said, “That makes you a perfect partner for me. I want to advance my path. I want to level. If you can give me that opportunity, you will get access to the fruits of my labor.”

“You think your skills that valuable?”

“I made my firewater with what I had lying around,” Tucker said, referring to the inebriant he’d thrown together. “That’s what I can do on short notice, with limited equipment, and no specialized ingredients. Think of what I can do with proper gear. Think what I can do with the right ingredients. Your people will never go thirsty.”

“Alcohol is good,” Athis said. “But any idiot with a distillery can give us that. We want potions. Real ones. The kinds that can change a hatchling’s fate. It is too late for many of us, but new generations hatch every day. Tell me, Tucker – is your alchemy powerful enough to alter the fate of the young? Can you give them power? Do that, and you will not only be welcomed as part of our tribe, but you will have a place of honor amongst all Kirran.”

“This…this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” asked Tucker. “How?”

“One of our shaman told us that a grand opportunity would await us on this journey,” Athis said with a reptilian grin. “When our scouts saw you stumble out of the Narascu Plains clutching a pair of potions and they reported back to me, I knew you were the one. Certainly, there was a chance that you weren’t, but I was willing to take that chance.”

Tucker frowned. He wasn’t really that kind of alchemist. Certainly, he could make a wide variety of potions, but he’d done far more research into creating his grenades. It was so lopsided that it had even affected his class, {Alchemical Grenadier}. However, he’d long felt that there wasn’t an alchemical problem he couldn’t solve. That was why he’d been so valuable to Micayne, and it would help him with whatever issues Athis wanted him to solve.

“You know I’m not that kind of alchemist, right?” said Tucker. The last thing he wanted was to set expectations too high; after all, it wasn’t out of the question that the big Kirran would take any disappointment directly out on Tucker himself. And given that Athis was nearly ten feet tall, with untold enhancing skills, that didn’t seem like the greatest idea. Instead, he opted for brutal honesty. “I mostly make things that explode. But I have some experience with the kind of thing you’re asking for, so I might be able to help. I can’t promise results, but I can promise that you’ll get my best effort. And in the meantime, I’ll earn my keep by keeping you and your people supplied with alcohol.”

“And in return?” asked Athis.

“Protect me,” Tucker said. “I can take care of myself when it comes to monsters and the like, but I’ve found that people are far more difficult to predict. You know the lay of the land, and I want you to keep me from doing anything that’ll get me the attention of the wrong sort of people.”

“We can do that.”

“And I want you to sponsor my research,” Tucker stated. “I’ll gather a lot of the materials myself, but if you want me to solve your problem, I’ll need rare and powerful ingredients. I can’t get those myself.”

Not yet, at least. Eventually, he would get there, but in a new realm where he had no context for what to expect, it was infinitely safer to latch onto someone like Athis.

“Fair deal,” said Athis. “I’ll get you whatever you need to make it work.”

With that, they shook, after which they fell back into silence. Tucker watched as the landscape steadily went by, and the plains they’d been crossing turned into a dense forest. The wagon train went as fast as a car back on Earth, which meant they were capable of covering quite a lot of ground in a single day. That gave Tucker some hints about how large the new world was; if what Athis called a routine trip took weeks at those speeds, then the landmass had to be truly gigantic.

Still, after another two days, they burst forth from the forest to see an enormous plateau looming over them. It was still miles away, but it filled most of the western horizon. And as they drew closer, Tucker started to see characteristics even more peculiar than its massive size.

For one, the air surrounding the plateau was positively filled with floating airships. Most were fashioned after the seagoing vessels with which Tucker was familiar, except instead of sails, they were held aloft by giant balloons. However, there were also some that eschewed those balloons in favor of some magic that kept them in the sky. Most of those were shaped differently, and Tucker even saw one that looked like a floating tree.

Tucker tore his eyes from the fanciful sights and focused on the sprawling city surrounding the base of the plateau. It stretched for miles in every direction, and as the caravan drew closer, the city resolved itself into a series of buildings. Some along the outer edges were mundane, boxy structures, but closer to the plateau were some that looked like true palaces in a wide variety of architectural designs. Some resembled styles represented on Earth, with graceful arches, towering spires, and impressive domes, but there were plenty that had been constructed along entirely different parameters. Tucker even saw one that looked like a beehive constructed entirely of emerald.

The sight was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the plateau itself. Once, it might have been a natural formation, but it had left its earthen past far behind. Its façade was covered with carvings, balconies, and lights, giving it a manmade appearance. On its flat top was a towering, crystalline palace that glittered in the sun. It looked like spun glass, but there was an aura about it that said it wasn’t nearly so delicate. To call it awe-inspiring would have been a vast understatement, and it made Tucker’s efforts at finding his footing seem paltry and insufficient. He knew nothing of this new world, and he needed to remember that, lest he end up enslaved or killed.

“Welcome to Westport, my friend,” said Athis, slapping him on the shoulder. “The City of a Thousand Cultures.”