Brewing Bad Ch. 43-46

Ch. 43 - Suffering, in C Minor

Lucas had not expected much from dancing lessons. He’d never been much at parties, but it turned out that his limited repertoire of bumping and grinding combined with a few novelty moves like floss dancing and the sprinkler were less than useless, and only the aging bard that had been hired to teach him the convoluted steps to these horridly archaic dances were even the least bit amused by his clumsy moon walk. 

The whole thing was made somehow worse by his borrowed monkey suit. He looked the part of a noble, finally, but the clothes were a poor fit, and itchy to boot. Still, he did his best not to completely embarrass himself and tried to emulate the steps as best he could while the old man pounded the hardwood floor of the now-empty dining room with his staff. 

That was how he, Adin, Danaria, and her lady and waiting Elsbeth spent the next few hours as he learned the fine art of switching partners as they circled each other and collapsed hands, or more often, never touched each other at all. 

Adin breezed through it, showing real talent at something for the first time that Lucas had ever seen. He was a natural. He might be a blue-addicted weasel, but the man flowed smoothly, always on the beat and never missing a step. His sister was almost as good, though she was less sure of herself and prone to getting distracted by some of the more complicated partner changes. 

She was more distracting too, and though Elsbeth was his partner most of the time, whenever they swapped, and Lucas ending up dancing with her for a few beats, he could help but notice how much prettier she was when she smiled. 

Elsbeth was pretty, too, of course, but she looked at him like the garbage he was whenever he screwed up, which meant she was scowling a lot more often than she was smiling. She put up with it, though, and with him, largely because she was now being paid double, along with the rest of the staff. She still probably wasn’t making a silver coin every week, but with Adin showing his face around the house so much, they’d decided it wouldn’t hurt to buy a little extra loyalty.

Lucas made progress, but it was hard-fought. When they finally stopped for a break, he thought that if he did this for another year or two, he might not embarrass himself entirely. 

“Well, this was fun, guys, but I have to—” Lucas started to say, but the bard quickly corrected him. 

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” the man snapped retrieving a small box from his bag and placing it on the window sill. “Now that you’ve gotten the basics of the footwork down, its time to start on the hand gestures, and all the other little details to be expected of someone in your position.”

“I kinda thought we were doing that already,” Lucas complained. “I don’t know if I can do much more complex than this.”

“Nonsense,” Adin said with a smile. “Look, it’s easy. You’ve already learned the line and the pivot just fine, but if a circle dance is called, or heaven help you a carol which is sort of like a circle, but with singing, then—” 

“Then I’ll go outside for a smoke,” Lucas sighed. “I’ll just tell them all about my injury I got in the war or something.”

“You were injured?” Danaria asked sweetly. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Does it hurt?”

“It…It’s fine,” Lucas answered after taking a moment to make sure she wasn’t making fun of him. “I’m just saying, I don’t have to dance to chat people up at a fancy party.”

Adin looked like he was about to disagree, but they both stopped when the bard opened his little wooden box and began to channel mana to the smaller golden box inside of it. To Lucas in just looked like a gaudy gem encrusted music box, but then it started to glow. 

“What the hell is that?” Lucas asked as he saw shapes begin to emanate from it, and at the same time, the music started up. 

“This is no more than a trifle that was given to me by the Countess of Lastrasia,” the man said with a smile. “This was in my younger days, of course, when I still traveled widely. Her and Had… many fond memories, and this was just a bauble she gave me to mark her favor.”

Magical items weren’t exactly uncommon in Lordanian, and Lucas had seen a few before, but he’d never seen one quite so lovely, and he certainly wouldn’t call this a bauble. In a world where everything had to be played by real musicians, a boombox, even a magical one, struck him as one of the greatest things one could possibly own. 

So, for a moment while the man explained what ridiculous dance they were going to do next and what he was supposed to do, Lucas tried to pay attention, but he found it hard the way that the small flock of ghostly musical instruments that twirled and danced as they played themselves. Aside from the beauties from the Red Lantern gang and Danaria, it was probably the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long time. The magic of this world was, in his experience, rarely so delicate. 

Still, he couldn’t just stand there and try not to gawk forever. Eventually, he was forced to participate and practice, not just the way that he had to spin around his partner and the way that she would, in turn, spin around him, but all the gestures and looks that went with it. As hard as all that was, the hardest part was trying not to roll his eyes. He’d never been much for clubbing, but he would have taken that any day because as beautiful as this music was, it was not exactly danceable as far as he was concerned. 

Well, most of it wasn’t. He changed his mind when they finally switched from the group dances to the slow ones. Those, at least, were something he’d done before. Though he had to hold both women at a very slight remove rather than holding them tight to him like he might have done at Senior Prom, it was still always enjoyable to hold a pretty woman close to you. That was even true when they sometimes stepped on your foot, the way Danria did when they changed directions with their box step.

Still, after hours of dancing, the bard finally put away his instrument and said, “I’ll be back for our next engagement at the end of the week then.”

Lucas was irritated to see that Adin was paying the man four silver kings, but he had to admit that a man that could summon a magical orchestra on command was probably a pretty rare gift, and he said as much once he’d left and Lucas, along with Parin siblings adjourned to the front porch for tea while the dining room furniture was put back in place by the servants and the table was remade for dinner. 

“I have to say, that music box of his was pretty crazy,” Lucas said, trying to make conversation. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Well, that’s because you’ve been mixing with the trash at the bottom of society,” Adin said with a smile. “But little trifles like that are common enough, and there’s more than a few wild talents to wield them. I dare say that you could without too much of an issue if our dance instructor felt like teaching you the trick to it.”

“Wild talent?” he asked. He’d heard the term before, but he’d thought that it referred to a specific form of mage. “Nah, man, I just get these little screens that pop up and—”

“It’s different for everyone, of course,” Adin shrugged, brushing him off after he finished sipping his tea. “I wouldn’t know, of course. Sadly, I was born without such a gift, my dear sister, though…”

“Adin, stop,” she said, putting an end to that topic. “I’m not… you know I’m never going to use that power. It’s too horrible.”

“She’s a lover, not a fighter,” Adin said with a wink. “Sometimes people get talents that are unsuited for them, but most of the time, they go on to define a person’s life. The older and purer the bloodline, the stronger the talent, generally speaking.”

Lucas said nothing for a moment as he tried to figure out what was being hidden here. Adin wasn’t a great liar, but Lucas was fairly sure he was using his sister’s discomfort to hide something else. Was it possible that Adin had a talent as well, and he just didn’t want anyone to know it? Lucas made a note to circle back on that later, but for now, he focused on the task at hand. 

“So, these are things nobles get normally?” Lucas asked, trying to learn more, “Because I’m not—”

“Anyone can end up with a talent,” Danaria said. “They’re uncommon, but not nearly as uncommon as being a proper mage, Why Mr. Hardeson, the blacksmith and even Mr. Twill the tailor have one.”

“Is that so?” Lucas asked. “And what is it they do?”

“Well, I don’t really understand the powers completely, but…” Danaria started to say before her brother cut her off.

“These things are kept pretty close to the vest, you understand,” the Viscount said with a smile, “But rumor has it that old man Hardeson used to be a mercenary before he hung up his sword, and he can post his strength somehow. As to Mr. Twill, while I’ve seen him play little tricks for children. He can make his thread dance and needles fly when he desires. Quite a handy trick if you’ve got a huge backlog of dresses to make. ”

Lucas let the conversation drift on to other topics, but he made a mental note to talk to the tailor about how that worked exactly when he went back to pick up his clothes. Eventually, though, the call of his lab could be avoided no longer, and Lucas stood. 

“Well, time to head back to the barn,” Lucas said finally, but Adin merely smirked and shook his head. 

“I’m afraid we’re not going back to hang out with those dregs just yet,” Adin said. “Dancing was just the first lesson. Next, we have to work on your table manners, which means you and I are eating here at the manor until you can tell your salad fork from your dinner fork.”

Danaria smiled at that, which was just enough for Lucas to suppress the theatrical sigh he was going to make. It’s going to be a long night, he’d been about to complain, but instead, he just smiled so as not to ruin the moment. She was probably eating alone a lot these days, so there was no need to rain on her parade if she wanted to spend time with her brother. Besides, the food was probably better up here.

Ch. 44 - Something to Think About

The food was better, though, Lucas would have gladly eaten moldy bread if it would have come without constant reminders to keep his elbows off the table, and instructions about how to lay his silverware across the table to let the servants know that he was finished with that particular course. 

Still, the pumpkin soup and the roasted lamb was delicious, and he didn’t regret it. Not entirely, anyway. 

While they ate, the three of them discussed his backstory and fleshed out some details about who Lucas Parin was. He’d already picked the faraway city of Esterbrocken in his discussions with Mr. Twill, so they went with it. It was a trade hub on the far side of the continent that was nearly as wealthy as Lordanin but with a particularly unsavory reputation. That was the only reason Lucas had heard of it before now. It was because it was sort of a promised land that thieves and cutthroats sometimes talked about at the bar. It was like Eldorado or Las Vegas as far as ne’er do wells were concerned. 

They debated whether or not he should be legitimate or a bastard child through the main course, and Danaria thought that details like that were great fun. She wanted him to be a romantic figure with a star-crossed lover and a tragic destiny just like in the epic poetry she sometimes read. Adin thought it was best if he was the second son of someone important, like a fictional Duke. “That way, you’re just important enough to take seriously.”

“Maybe I should split the difference and be a gambler, I’m pretty good at dice games, and I could… what?” Lucas asked, stopping his explanation as Adin started to laugh. 

“Well, for starters, dice are crass and best left at the pier side,” Adin said with a smirk. “You’d have to learn to play games with proper cards. You’ll just have to trust me. Even if you learned all the suits and the way they changed depending on the game—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man,” Lucas shot back, annoyed that the lordling was being so high-handed with him. He’d found one thing in life he was better than Lucas at, and he was just running with it. “Of course, I know how to play cards. There’s no magic to it.”

“Oh?” Adin asked with a smirk. “So then, in a game of folly, which suit would you need your high card to beat a flush of roses?”

“The fuck?” Lucas sighed. “Listen. Im saying I know how to play cards, not your crazy ass card games. If you want to play poker or blackjack, though, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Sadly, I’ve never heard of either of those games,” Adin answered with a shake of his head, but even if I had, I can assure you that you lack the money to play at those sorts of tables.”

“What are you talking about, man? We’re swimming in dragons these days. I’m about to go make another pile of them in a day or two when I have some decent threads!” Lucas said. 

“Oh, you might see some gold on the table in the early rounds, but games in the backrooms of VanDavin’s would be dominated by ivory chips marked in denominations of hundreds or thousands of coins.” the Viscount answered with a shrug. “These aren’t the sort of funds that we could afford to lose at this stage of our, hmmmm, what did you call it? Operation?”

Lord Parin’s attitude just made Lucas want to do it more. He was pretty decent at bluffing, but unfortunately, until he learned the rules of their crazy ass card games and how the trumps worked, he agreed it was a bad idea. One of Lucas’s high school teachers had been fond of saying that Gambling was a tax on those who couldn’t do math. 

Lucas believed that to a point, but he’d told Mr. Harris that since he knew how to count cards, he kinda did know how to do math. The man had not liked that answer, and one day, when he had time, he showed these bumpkins a whole new kind of magic, but for now, it was probably best to stick with bragging and drug dealing, he decided. 

After the dessert of sponge cake and red berry compote, which Lucas noticed could be used as an alchemy ingredient if he wanted to create beauty products, he excused himself to go hit the hay. Danaria wished him a good night, and it seemed like there was more she wanted to say, but after a quick glance at her brother, she decided against it and merely smiled as he left. 

Adin joined Lucas, of course. The whole way back, he talked about how much they should charge and how pure the product should be to attract the ideal buyer for status reasons, but Lucas tuned him out, wishing the Viscount would stay in his own damn room again and leave the cider house to the low-born trash like him. 

The only reason he didn’t stay in the main house was in case the guards came back unexpectedly again. They would eventually, of course. That was the whole reason he’d gone along with the dwarf’s idea of building an underground lab, which was basically the dream of every meth cook he’d ever known. 

When they returned, Kar’gandin and Hura’gh had finished their dinner, and the dwarf had long since vialed up the Blue. 

“Did you guys finish digging yet?” Lucas asked with a laugh as he opened the door. 

“Ya, fer today!” the dwarf laughed. “It's gonna take weeks to do this job right, ye know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lucas nodded sadly. 

“I heard ya know how to dance too now, all pretty like,” Hura’gh said with a chuckle. 

“Guilt of that too, I’m afraid,” Lucas sighed as he watched Adin approaching the neatly arranged vials of Blue the dwarf had laid out. “But truthfully, I’d rather be digging holes with your than—”

“Do you think maybe I could have… You know, since I’ve been so helpful today with all your learning,” Adin asked as soon as he saw the neat rows of vials. Lucas hadn’t watered down this batch because he’d been planning on bringing a dozen or so vials and charging the nobles a dragon or so each for them to test the waters so he wanted it strong. 

“I feel like that stuff might be a little strong for you,” Lucas said as Adin picked up one of the vials and examined its shimmering blue contents. “Maybe you better let me dilute it first.”

“No… this will be more than sufficient, I think,” he said with a smile as he walked away from the bench. 

Lucas shrugged. He wanted to help ween the guy off of this shit, but while you could lead a horse to water, you couldn’t make it drown. So if he wanted to…

Just as Lucas was getting ready to brush the whole thing off, he couldn’t help but notice that two vials were missing. The dwarf had lined them up in such neat, orderly rows that noticing that two were missing instead of one from the final row became not just possible but easy.

Lucas didn’t hate Adin anymore. Hell, most days, the man didn’t even get on his nerves, but this wasn’t something he could let slide for a variety of reasons. It would be the same as catching Kar’gandin stealing from him or the half-orc spying for a rival gang. Such things had to be dealt with. 

He didn’t provide Adin with any warning at all. He just walked up behind him, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his head against the nearest post, making the man cry out in pain. 

The noble might be a great dancer, but he had no idea how to fight, and he was terrible at defending himself. Even as he began to struggle, and moved his hands to protect his head, Lucas had already switched tacks and was rifling through the pocket where the Viscount had stuffed the drugs. 

When Lucas came up with two vials, he immediately looked at the Viscount in disgust and held them aloft for the other two members of their crew to see before he tripped the noble and pushed him to the ground. 

“Well, what have we here,” Kar’Gandin said as he took in the show. 

“I-I can explain,” Adin said. 

“You don’t need to. You’re a junkie. This is why I keep things locked up,” Lucas shot back as he turned and walked back toward the counter while the noble scrambled to his feet. 

“I just… I wasn’t going to take them both tonight, I promise,” Adin stammered. “I was going to save the other one for tomorrow and—”

“And overdose sometime in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep,” Lucas continued, crossing his arms. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay,” the noble said, just noticing that he was starting to bleed from a wound near his hairline. “If you just give me the vial, I’ll—”

“I ain’t giving you shit. Not tonight anyway,” Lucas spat. “Maybe in the morning, I’ll give you a healing potion if you seem appropriately remorseful, but blue? Nah. You’re cut off for now.”

“Please!” Adin begged. “I need it!”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you…” Lucas’s words trailed off as soon as he pivoted. He knew what a desperate man like Adin would do, and he was giving the man just enough to hang himself.

With his back turned, Adin charged immediately. Whether that was to take a shot at Lucas or to just grab for a vial, he’d never know. As soon as the noble got behind him, he jabbed backward with his left elbow, letting Adin’s momentum do all the work as the blow struck his solar plexus and knocked all the air out of him.  

As Adin lay on the dirty floor gasping like a fish on land, Kar’gandin and Hura’gh both gave him hard looks but said nothing. They knew the drill, he could see it in their eyes. Lucas was tempted to leave it here, but he knew that would letting Adin off too light. It might make the man hate him, but more than hate, Lucas needed the noble to fear him and the other members of their group to see him as hard enough to be their leader. 

So, he didn’t stop there. Instead, he kicked the noble hard in the ribs, making him curl up into a ball as he cried out in pain. 

“This may be your land, but this is my fucking house, Adin!” Lucas roared. “My house, my fucking rules, you got that? If I say you can get a hit, then you can get a hit. If I say you can’t, then you go without.”

The man sobbed and babbled, but Lucas couldn’t make out what he was saying, so he kicked him hard again, this time in the kidneys, and repeated himself. “I said, do you fucking get me?” he repeated himself. 

“Ye… yeah, okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But if I could…” Adin squealed. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Lucas said, giving the man one final kick before pulling him up from the dirty floor by his collar and shoving him toward the door. “You’re sleeping in the barn tonight. Maybe tomorrow, too, until you learn some fucking respect.”

Adin’s face was full of incredulity for a moment, and he turned back, about to say something. However, when he looked at Lucas’s flinty eyes, he closed his mouth again and slunk out the door like a whipped dog. 

When the door slammed shut behind him, Lucas turned back to the other two people in the cider house. 

“Nicely done, lad,” the dwarf said after exhaling a cloud of smoke from his pipe. “I knew that he was going to be trouble. Best to close that shaft down before it gets any deeper.”

“Naw, you let him off easy,” Hura’gh growled. “I woulda’ broken his hand so that he didn’t forget this night.”

“Maybe next time I’ll have to,” Lucas said with a shrug. “For now, at least I’ve given him something to think about.”

Ch. 45 - Day After Day

That set the tone for the rest of the weak. Kar’gandin and most everyone else focused on the laboratory’s expansion. Lucas brewed up a whole pile of mana potions as a side effect of another two batches of Blue, along with whatever random shit he could with what Adin brought him. 

Lucas made a couple more smoke bombs, a potion truth-telling, a handful of different boosts, including a particularly rough-looking potion of speed he’d made out of the stolen oak service sap, which he had no plans on selling and a few other healing potions that were probably destined to win more hearts and minds for their recruiting in the surrounding villages. 

Noxious Potion of Camouflage: Create 30 cubic feet of choking smoke for 10 seconds. 10% chance of nausea. 

Tainted potion of Speed: Agility 6, poison 1, intelligence -2, unable to sleep for the duration of the effect, 10% chance to hear voices

When the time came to send the Blue and the mana into the city, though, he delegated that shit. It was kind of unfortunate, honestly, because he actually wanted to go back to the small courtyard and practice some sword fighting as well as get a lay of the land regarding the fallout from their attack on the Blind cash cow. Sadly, he had to focus on his dancing and his table manners, though, which meant that he had to get the play-by-play from Hura’gh every night after dinner. 

While Kar’gandin and the men from Meadowin were digging, he’d been prowling the city streets and asking around about what local talent might be available and what quests might be in the offing. While Lucas wasn’t sure that the dumbest member of their group was the right one to play spy, he and the dwarf were too busy, and right now, no one trusted Adin with more than berry picking, so there simply wasn’t another choice in the matter. 

“Things are heating up. I heard there was another scuffle, just off Dyers lane this time,” the half-orc told him when Lucas returned to the cider house after dinner. “An ambush by the Butchers this time. Heard they sliced and diced a Blind underboss this time.”

That was a pretty definitive escalation from the story the half-orc had told them the day before last. That had been the ransacking of a warehouse that had led to a fire and some injuries as the Blind looked for leads on where the Butchers were hiding their drugs, but a fight like this, in the commerce district and in broad daylight? 

Something like that was going to catch the attention of the city watch sooner rather than later. That wasn’t his problem.

“Sounds intense,” Lucas said with a shrug wondering how high the body count was from his direction was now. It didn’t matter of course, good people didn’t join the Butchers or the Blind so it didn’t matter what happened to them. 

“It would be more intense if you’d let us get involved and smash a few heads!” Hura’gh growled. “They’re both putting out feelers and looking for mercenaries. We could get some coin and make the blood bath that much—”

“Theres no money in killing, not compared to this work right here,” the dwarf said readjusting a stack of gold coins so that they jingled musically. There were over a hundred golden desk. That was half a lifetime of wealth to the average farmer, and nearly a decade of work for an honest tradesman, and they’d made it in a week by selling drugs. 

The fact that they’d done it without entangling themselves in any feuds yet made that all the better. Lucas was still worried when the Whisperers would make their displeasure known, but for now, they’d been quiet, which made sense. They tended to avoid direct conflict, so as long as the Butchers were hacking people up in the streets, they’d maintain a pretty low profile. 

“There’s plenty of money to be made in killing,” Hura’gh countered. “Ya kill the right people, and you get to take their shit, and—”

“And then they kill ye and take yers, and nothing was gained by anyone,” the dwarf continued. 

Before Hura’gh could open his mouth and loudly disagree, Lucas butted in. “There will be plenty of time for killing, and territory and all the rest, but we aren’t even a gang yet, not really. We’re just a couple of guys with a product worth paying for.”

“If any of those other prickless sons of bitches tried to come at us…” Hura’gh growled.

“Then we’d die on our feet, but we’d still die,” Lucas said with a shake of his head. “Think about it. The Brass Knights are so big because almost an entire quarter of the city pays them a few kings or dragons a month to keep the peace. That kind of payroll buys dozens of toughs and, in a pinch, hundreds of mercenaries. It’s going to take time to match that, but we’ll get there.”

They spent hours that night debating how long it would take to get there. Topics ranged from recruiting local talent to hiring expeditions to go kill more goblins for them. What they didn’t discuss was how they could pit more gangs above them against each other for a bigger slice of the pie. Lucas didn’t have a good answer to that yet, but if they were really going to carve something out of this city for themselves, it was something they’d have to do eventually. 

Through all that, Adin alternated between skulking around like a whipped hound and trying to ingratiate himself for another hit of Blue. Then, man’s pride never allowed him to deliver a real apology without the threat of violence, but he did mostly behave himself, and he worked harder than usual.

What he didn’t do was show up to any of the dancing sessions that Lucas was forced to attend. As a result, Gerwin had to take his place, Which prompted Danaria to ask if something had happened, but Lucas just played it off. “There’s just a lot going on,” he told her. “Your brother… he’s a pretty dedicated guy, and right now, there’s a lot of ingredients that need gathering, you know?”

“Well, where did he get the bruises from?” Danaira asked. “Adin might claim to be quite handy with a sword, but… he’s yet to be on the winning side of a single duel.”

“Well, the forest is a rough place, but he’s been fine so far,” Lucas assured her. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It will toughen him up.”

She seemed unconvinced but dropped the subject. Lucas was grateful for a moment, but after that, she tangented to asking him why they were always creating mana potions instead of healing potions that people desperately needed. 

“I’ve heard that you’ve been distributing some among the people, and truthfully, Meadowin seems healthier and more productive than it has in years,” she told him during their next break, “Shouldn’t that take the highest priority?”

“In time, perhaps,” Lucas lied. “It's nice to do good, but we’ve got money to make too, and mages… well, they pay top dollar.”

“Top dollar?” she asked in confusion. 

“It’s fine. It’s just a saying from my homeland,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, you have to think about it. Some ingredients are rarer than others, so we need to make what we can find.”

“Couldn’t you plant more of the herbs you need then?” she asked. “Would that not be easier than finding them?”

Lucas fed her a line of bullshit on that about very specific growing conditions and the potency of wild plants, but even after they finished dancing, the thought about making a more serious attempt at a herb garden or harvestable plantation lingered long after he stopped thinking about how pretty Danaria had been in her frilled baby blue dress.  

A couple days later, when he told the boys about the idea, Kar’gandin and Adin both thought it was a good idea. “If we’re recruiting so many farmers, then we might as well get some farmin’ out of them!” had been the eloquent way he’d put it, and Lucas found it hard to disagree with. After all, they had a whole decaying orchard and a few fallow fields around their little drug lab. 

Surely something could be done with that, couldn’t it? He wondered. 

The answer turned out to be, unsurprisingly, yes. For a few coppers each, they were able to hire dozens of young men from the village to start clearing land and burning brush, and Lucas had Adin start gleaning seeds for the different plants they would need most. They would make the whole area appear like an apple orchard, but all of the dead apple trees would be cut down for firewood and replaced with rosewood trees. 

“Won’t those take years to grow, though?” Adin had asked as Lucas mapped out the property and planned out what they could do with it. “I’m all for generating more legitimate income for my house, but surely so many non-fruit bearing trees even after they grow large enough.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why we’re growing them inside the apple grove; I don’t exactly want to hang a sign on our front door that says, ‘These guys are making healing potions,’ now do I?”

“But it will still be years,” Adin insisted, cleaving to the main thrust of his argument. “Surely there are better things to do with our time than…”

“One, hiring a few boys to clear brush just strengthens our cover about your house getting back on its feet and costs us almost nothing,” Lucas said sharply, holding out a finger for each point he listed off. “Two, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t help us today because tomorrow always gets here sooner than you think, and three, magic can work on plants, too.”

After he finished his third point, he dug out his journal and flipped through the pages. Then, when he found what he was looking for, he handed it to Adin. He’d long since lost his paranoia about people stealing his secrets when he realized one key fact: the people of this world could no more read English than he could read Kar’gandin’s dwarvish ledgers. It was essentially his very own secret language.

“What is it I’m supposed to see here?” Adin asked dismissively.  

“It says, serum of plant growth, and I’ve never tried it, but when I found it by accident while I was trying to turn bonemeal and red clover into a potion of endurance,” Lucas told the noble. “That didn’t work, but this might.”

“Potions of people, potions for sale, and potions for plants,” Adin said with a laugh. “Is there anything you don’t have a potion for?”

For getting you to shut the fuck up, Lucas thought, but he didn’t say it. He could see looks of resentment that the noble gave him sometimes, and unless Lucas planned on getting rid of the man, it wasn’t wise to antagonize him more than he had to. 

Instead, he just said, “You know, better living though modern chemistry, right?” Adin nodded like that made any sense, which was silly, since the man was anything but modern, and had no idea what chemistry was. 

So, that became one more element in their increasingly convoluted plan. At least everyone assumed he had a plan. Kar’gandin talked at length about the extra money they could make selling a few thousand more healing potions a year. Hura’gh insisted they’d need most of them for the gang wars to come and that no one would be able to stand against them, while Adin argued that Lucas should experiment with drugs like Dragon’s Blood. 

The last thing that they needed was to make more poison, but honestly, he wasn’t sure what the best use for these resources would be when it reached fruition. The only reason that he didn’t include Blue ingredients in this initial plan was because he didn’t want to spell out what they were to everyone just yet. 

He wasn’t sure if they’d be used for fighting or for cash flow. That didn’t matter. All that did was that he wasn’t going to put any new poison out on the streets. Blue was enough for now. He could do better than that going forward.

Ch. 46 - Dressed to Kill

That simple rhythm continued for the next half week before Danaria sent one of her ladies to inform him that they would be going to town after lunch so that he could try on and pick up his new clothes for the upcoming party. That suited Lucas just fine, he’d been doing the same thing for so many days in a row that he felt like he was starting to get stuck in a rut. 

Every morning he’d cook until the sound of digging and construction got too obnoxious. Then, he’d walk the orchard, look at the progress their hired hands were making, and then he’d gather herbs and other reagents until it was time to for Gerwin and Danaria to make him feel like Lucas was the clumsy old man instead of the other way around. 

The only difference lately was the different kinds of healing potions he was making when they came in. Bear grease would turn a common potion into a healing salve, and boiled turnip greens would make a healing potion that helped the digestive system. 

Tainted Lesser Healing salve (3 doses): Lesser healing, poison 1, endurance 1, 50% more effective against skin ailments.

Tainted Lesser Healing Digestive (2 doses): Lesser healing, poison 1, endurance 1, 50% more effective against stomach ailments and food poisoning.

There were limitless combinations, and someday, he hoped to find the right combination that would grant a bonus to all traumatic injuries, but to date, he hadn’t found that little wrinkle just yet. All he needed was ingredients and time. The most recent ingredient to catch his eye had been the pulverized wings of the stinging dragonfly. 

The iridescent wings were surprisingly powerful, and while they might strengthen a potion of true sight, he was fairly sure that they could boost a healing potion in that direction too. There were more than enough people in the nearby villages with eye problems. 

Iridescent Dragonfly wings(pulverized): Perception 4, agility 1, poison 1

It wasn’t a bad way to spend his days, and honestly, they were making money hand over fist. Between the potions that Kar’gandin was selling to his cousin and the drugs that were being bought once or twice a week, the coins were coming in like a river. It had gotten to the point where the dwarf hand purchased a large, iron-bound strong box and a stout lock to hold their increasing gains. 

He’d explained his Byzantine accounting system more than once to Lucas, but he wasn’t really concerned. Items that were to be used by the gang were deduced evenly from the four of them. That included not just reagents and other materials like glass vials, but also wages for their growing workers and hangers-on, along with provisions and other things. Still, all of that was only a few dragons a week, and they were making a lot more than that. 

Lucas probably should have argued for a double share early on, but he had no wish to walk down that road. Right now, every member of the group, with the possible exception of Adin, was providing a valuable service, and this wouldn’t have worked without everyone, so the last thing he wanted to do was start nickel-and-dimeing everyone. He hadn’t actually spent a single silver on anything fun since this had all started, either, but he wasn’t too put out by it.

He was patient, and in addition to the thirty-seven dragons and change he’d buried at the fence line, Kar’gandin told him he had twenty-four dragons and twelve kings to his name in the treasury. It wasn’t bad. In less than a month, he’d collected more than ten percent of what he’d need to build a nice tavern. That might seem like a long time, but he was going to have to decide on a name, and he didn’t think that the residents of Lordanin would get it if he called the place South of the Border. 

The trip into town was anything but eventful. It was a hot, sunny day, so Danaria brought a deep violet parasol that matched her outfit. Lucas doubted he could afford to replace her closet even if he spent every last dragon he had. Not only was each piece tailored to her, but the fabric was obviously pricey. It was more expensive than anything he’d ever worn but far from the most expensive thing he’d seen noblewomen wearing around town. 

The real difference was that the men of Lordanin, even the noblemen, wore fairly simple outfits. It was only for women and bards to dress up like exotic birds, and colors cost money. 

I wonder if we could start a dye business up on the side, he wondered to himself as Danaria made pleasant conversation with him about the weather and how Meadowin was flourishing. 

Dying was hardly the next order of business, though. Not unless he wanted to find a new way to smuggle drugs. What they really needed was a glassblower to their unlimited demand, and eventually a blacksmith devoted to making them weapons and armor. 

Every few days Adin brought home someone else that lived in his holdings or was related to someone who did that was eager to join up, and at the point the only thing they’d spent more money on than Lucas’s clothing were weapons and armor for the new recruits. 

It was honestly getting expensive and gave Lucas a lot more sympathy for assholes like the Prince, and his dad, the King. They had to arm and armor thousands of soldiers. Lucas would have to sell an awful lot of Blue to make that happen, but then he’d need an awful lot of enemies to justify such a ridiculous expense.

Well, I have a lot of enemies already, he thought as he exited the carriage. They just don’t know who I am or where to find me, and I aim to keep it that way. 

They stopped by the cobbler first and found everything finished. Lucas changed his boots on the spot, finding the new ones to be much more comfortable than the old pair. The other shoes were fine too, of course, but he wasn’t really into the whole shiny-black-leather-with-giant-silver-buckles look that the nobility tended to favor. Air Jordan’s they were not, and he was sure that much like fashions regarding women’s hats, the less functional something was, the more fashionable that made it.

“You want me to repair those too, your Highness, or—” the cobbler snarked. 

“Nah,” Lucas shot back, “Those are my ass-kicking boots, and I’ll still need them when I need to kick a little ass now and then.”

That got a laugh out of the man, though Danaria was aghast at the whole exchange. “I can’t believe that Finnegan would persist in being so rude with you and that you would return that rudeness. Really, Lucas, a Parin is better than that. You must—”

“I get it,” he said, “But your cobbler is a no nonsense dude, and he likes a little no nonsense in return. That’s all. Its a guy thing.”

“I assure you that women can be rude too,” she said as they walked to the carriage to deposit their purchases before returning to the tailor. 

“Women, sure?” Lucas agreed. “They can be b… a bit rude sometimes, you though, probably not.”

“You know not of which you speak!” she laughed, “Mister Sharpe, I can assure you that—”

“Perin,” Lucas shot back. “Lucas Perin. Your cousin and you 

shouldn’t forget it.”

After that little exchange and a small fit of giggles on Danaria’s part, at how she’d let their little lie slip, he opened the door and they both went inside. The tailor’s shop was little changed, except for the fact that this time Mister Twill’s daughter was working away on pinning a dress on a manaquin in the corner instead of coughing in the back room. 

The girl brightened immediately as she saw Danaria, who immediately went over to join her. Lucas ignored them and walked up to the tailor instead. 

“Glad to see everyone is doing better,” he said, shaking the older man’s hand. 

“Much, and I must thank you again for—” Mister Twill started to say, but Lucas cut him off. 

“I told you not to mention it, and I meant it,” Lucas said, adding a touch of severity to his false snobbery. “Now tell me, how much of my order have you had a chance to finish? There’s a ball coming up, and I simply must attend.”

“Why, all of them, I think. A few might need alterations after we check the fit, but first, ladies… if you don’t mind.”

The women caught the man’s drift and went outside, leaving the two of them alone. In the real world, Lucas could be assured that if one size L fit him, then all the others probably would, too. Here, though, everything was handcrafted, and just because the left shoe fit, there was no guarantee that the right would do the same. 

So, Lucas spent the next half hour trying on the piles of clothing, which was thoroughly and utterly dull. In the end, everything fit just right, and the only keen eyes of the tailor noticed the few problems that existed. He even pointed out a number of small pockets that he’d sewn into jackets and the sleeves since, as he put it, Lucas ‘struck him as a man that placed a great deal of priority of discretion.’

Whether he was referring to Lucas’s nighttime potion delivery, or other rumors about him, Lucas couldn’t say. He didn’t ask, though. Some things were better left unsaid. 

In the end, Mister Twill held back only one of the shirts because a button wasn’t quite where he wanted it and a pair of pants because it was hemmed just a little too low. Otherwise, they were basically perfect. With a fresh shave and a little attitude, no one would have any idea about his humble beginnings when he put on one of these suits. Hell, looking at himself in the mirror now he barely recognized himself. 

“Excellent work, Mister Twill,” Lucas said with a smile. “If I have any need for more outfits, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“That’s very kind,” the tailor said with a very slight bow.

“I did hear a very interesting rumor about you from my cousin,” Lucas said finally. He’d meant to work this into small talk earlier, but the man had been all business, so he’d never found the time. “He mentioned that you might have a wild talent.”

“Well, that’s not such a rare thing,” Mister Twill said with a shrug. “Half a dozen people in the village have them, and probably hundreds in Lordanin proper.”

“Could I see it?” Lucas asked. “Just a little demonstration? I’m a sucker when it comes to magic.”

The old man smiled thinly but didn’t say no. Instead, he reached out into thin air, and with a little concentration, the silver flash of a small bit of metal flew across the room. It soared quicker than he could see, and Lucas could only make out the slender metallic glint before a needle appeared in the tailor’s hand. 

Mister Twill smiled, and then, taking careful aim, he threw it at the counter a dozen feet away, where it embedded. Lucas was about to praise him for the trick, but as he opened his mouth, another needle, and another, and another flew to join the first. In the space of seconds, two dozen needled flew across the room, and all of them embedded in the same spot, one after the other. By the end of that demonstration, that spot of wood was a veritable pincushion. 

“Very impressive,” Lucas said, louder than he meant to as he clapped. “If you could do that with daggers or even nails, then you’d be a fearsome assassin indeed.”

“You’re too kind,” the old tailor said. “It’s just a parlor trick and nothing more. It doesn’t work on anything heavier than that. Even a silver king is much too heavy for me to move, but for something truly tiny, like a needle or a small button… well, I can do whatever I like within reason.”

The two of them chatted a little more about wild talents. Mister Twill was apparently among the minority of people who believed that everyone probably had one; it was just that most never figured out what theirs was. 

It was an interesting thought, and it gave Lucas something to think about on the ride home as he fended off Danaria’s compliments on the ride home. “Why, with a little powder, one might never know you weren’t born a Parin to begin with,” she exclaimed. 

“I’m not wearing makeup,” Lucas growled. 

“Well, Then you’ll be the only one,” she giggled. “Welcome to the upper classes, where no one is what they seem, and everyone is about to get you.”