From what David could gather, Riverwall only had two alchemists. His last two chances.

  He approached the nearest guard. “Greetings, guardsman. Could you assist me?”

  The guard smiled and nodded, “Of course, sir. Welcome to Riverwall. What are you looking for?”

  “I've heard there were two alchemists in town. I need directions.”

  “Alchemists? Well, it's true, but...” the guard scratched his chin, before shrugging. “You'll find Brenson & Son along the north side road that hugs the wall, as for the second, that would be old Hodge. I'm not sure if he still serves customers, but his shop is at the far end of the same road. It doesn't have a sign anymore, but it's a light green building with a small herb garden on the side; it shouldn't be hard to find.”

  David thanked the guard and set off towards the closest one, Brenson & Son, taking in the sights as he went.

  Nobody would mistake this place for any sort of urban hub, but as functional as the infrastructure was, there were ample signs of care and attention given to details. The wooden lamp posts bore decorative carvings, small gardens and flowery bushes filled unused space, and the houses were painted in various colours or decorated with artisan crafts.

  The main roads were paved with large rough stones or covered with fine gravel that seemed to be raked and levelled at least once a week, free of any deep divots that such roads usually developed over time. Even the smell... although he doubted the town had any extensive underground sewage system, he couldn't see any uncovered drainage channels, nor could he smell any. Maybe that's what all the small gardens were for.

  The people themselves, of varied races and tones, were clothed in various styles and colours, akin to what one would find in a cosmopolitan trading town.

  It almost felt like the place was a quaint little resort town, and not the dead-end town bordering uncivilized wilds that it was.

  He spotted the Brenson & Son shop sign and made his way towards it. As he approached, he heard a commotion inside. The door was slammed open, and a short, curvy brunette catkin woman was ejected out of the store by an even shorter balding man with clear ire on his face. With spittle flying, he berated the woman who had stumbled backward and onto the ground.

  “That was the last time, Niala! I gave you more than your fair share, stop harassing me and begging for scraps you aren't owed!”

  The woman, Niala, bared her teeth, her cat ears flattened backward. “Oxshit! You stole from me! You owe me at least a month's salary and my eq-”

  The man cut her off, “I owe you nothing! The contract was very clear! One more word and I'm calling the town guards for harassment!” He scowled. “Count yourself lucky I'm not having you thrown into jail after your appalling work here. Any money that was due was used to fix the issues you caused. Or do you want to try to besmirch my name again? Pay another fine?”

  The woman glared at him but said nothing.

  “That's what I thought. Now get lost, and I'd better not catch you talking to our customers.”

  On that, the man slammed the door shut.

  The woman seemed to alternate between wanting to shout obscenities and breaking out in tears as she glared at the closed door.

  David took a few steps and offered her his hand to get up. This seemed to snap her out of her trance, and she looked up to him with large amethyst eyes before noticing his offered hand and accepting it. He pulled her up with little effort. She didn't let go of his hand right away.

  “Are you alright, miss?”

  She startled once again, quickly letting go of his hand, her ears flopping to the sides.

  “I... yeah, I mean yes, I'm... I'll be alright. Thank you, huh, sir?”

  “David.”

  “I... thank you, David. I... guess I'll see you around.” She fidgeted a bit and looked between him and the shop he seemed to be angled towards. She started to say something, but held back and walked away.

  He spared her a few seconds before stepping up to the shop's door, opening it, and walking inside.

  The portly man, ostensibly one Mr. Brenson, was grumbling behind the front desk. As he noticed David, he erased his frown and replaced it with an amiable smile.

  “Ha! Hello! Welcome to the best alchemist in town, Brenson & Son! I'm terribly sorry you had to see that little display just now. It's simply a pest that refuses to hear reason.” He shook his head indignantly. “Now, what can we help you with?”

  David eyed the shop owner for an instant before stepping up to the counter and taking out a neatly rolled piece of parchment, upon which he had transcribed the Kwiller antivenom formula, presenting it to the man.

  “I need an alchemist capable of brewing this potion. I have the ingredients and the money. What I do not have is time. Are you able to provide?”

  Brenson squinted at David, taking the offered parchment as he donned reading glasses and inspected the formula for a minute. He grumbled, looking back up.

  “That is indeed a... difficult formula. Although I'm certain we can complete it. You said you had the money? A rush job like this won't be cheap...”

  David could taste the greed in the man's voice. He sighed.

  “All I need is a result. A life is on the line. How much to prepare the potion, and how quickly can you get to it?”

  Brenson rubbed his chin. “Well, for the proper fee, we can get started right away. We'll have to throw out the batch we're brewing right now and clean the equipment... I'll call it 50 princes for the whole, 20 of them paid upfront to cover the cost of what we're losing.”

  David did what he could to calm himself. Another greedy bastard who was going to bleed him, completely ignoring that a life was on the line. Or maybe that was because it... 20 princes would buy a good half of the inventory he saw on the shelves behind the man...

  “15 princes now, 20 for the completed potion. As I said, I'm providing the ingredients, and whatever it is you're brewing can't be worth more than a prince or two. You're already gouging me.”

  Brenson smiled. He did love a customer who was held by the balls and couldn't wiggle themselves out of a terrible trade.

  “Ah, well, out of generosity, I will accept 20 princes now and 20 princes later. See, the batch we have brewing unfortunately happens to be a special order for very high-quality potions. We'll have to replace all of the limited ingredients.”

  David attempted not to glare and eventually grabbed a pouch from within his jacket, counted out the pieces, and handed the sum without further haggling, as well as another pouch containing one set of ingredients.

  “Where can I wait?”

  Brenson blinked. “Wait?”

  “Yes, I will wait while you brew the antivenom. Is there somewhere I can wait?”

  “Ha... well, perhaps on the bench out back?” The merchant offered.

  “Very well. Please get started right away. I'll come get updates at every half bell.” David said as he stepped out to find the indicated bench.

  Brenson watched with some annoyance as the tall adventurer stepped out. He really WOULD have to throw away the batch of digestives they were brewing. Even if it was only worth a handful of regents, far from even a single prince, he hated wasting money. Every bit spent was one bit less he'd leave his son, and he was not going to have his heritage be a bunch of debt, like his own father had gifted him upon his death.

  He stepped into the back, where he found his son Emil reading a book, letting the digestives brew without any care.

  “Emil!” Brenson shouted. “I told you to watch the brew!”

  His son grimaced, “The brew is fine, Dad! It's just some stupid digestives anyway. It's nearly impossible to... fail.”

  “This! This is the reason your potions are inferior! You need to control the process, Emil. Check the heat, make sure there's enough fluid, control the pressure... how many times do I have to repeat myself?” He sighed, exasperated.

  “If one day you want to take over the shop, you need to be able to provide a minimum level of quality to the customers.” He continued.

  Emil tsked and looked away. “Yes, I know...”

  “Come now, we have to purge the equipment and clean it. We have a rush job.”

  “What? Why in the pits did you yell at me about the potion if we're throwing it away then?”

  “Quit your yapping! We're being paid a small fortune for this. Now help me, the formula looks tricky...”

  Over the next two bells, David went in to inquire about the progress five times.

  Each time, he was met by who he assumed to be the “& Son” in the shop's name. The youth, in his late teens if he had to guess, just kept telling him everything was fine with a level of apathy that was actively congealing around the words as they left his mouth. He seemed utterly uninterested in anything other than breathing and getting rid of the annoying person asking him a question.

  It did nothing to help David's confidence and rising dread about the whole process.

  Just as he was about to get up and ask for another update, the door opened and out came an apologetic Brenson, holding a flask of brackish liquid.

  David stared at the man.

  “Dear customer,” Brenson said, attempting to find confidence. “It appears that something went wrong. The brewing failed, unfortunately.” Brenson cleared his throat. “We believe it might have been the ingredients you provided. You said you had another set of ingredients? After this first trial, I'm certain we will succeed on the second attempt, if you would...”

  “No. Thank you for the attempt. Goodbye.” David got up and started walking off. Before he took two steps, Brenson spoke up.

  “Now wait. We didn't complete the brew to satisfaction, but I think our time should still be compensated. You cannot simply walk away like this.”

  David stopped. He slowly turned to face the man.

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  “My good man.” There was absolutely nothing good in David's tone. “Could you repeat yourself, please? It seemed like I heard you ask for more money. I do believe that the twenty princes I paid you would cover any and all expenses, would it not?”

  He was thinly smiling, but his eyes promised something else.

  Brenson slightly recoiled. “I... ah, I mispoke. Indeed, you have paid me fairly for my time...”

  “As I thought. It was a pleasure to work with you, my good sir. Best of luck to you. And yours,” he partitioned out, glancing at the man's son busy wasting space by the door, before he turned and walked away.

  A quarter bell later, David walked up to a somewhat decrepit house at the far end of the northernmost road, butting against the wall, painted a fading green with an unkempt herb garden by its side. A metal arm and chain dangled where a shop sign would have been.

  He walked up to the door and knocked forcefully a few times.

  After a short while, he heard some clatter inside. Another wait, and he heard someone working the locking bolts before the door slowly creaked open. An old, hunched man with long, sparse white hair looked up to David, one eye milky white and seemingly blind.

  “Well, what is it, young man?” the old man croaked, clearly annoyed at the interruption of whatever he was doing.

  “I, ah, my apologies, sir. I am in need of a skilled alchemist, and the town guard said someone by the name of Hodge with the appropriate skills might reside here?”

  The old man eyed him and frowned.

  “I'm not a blue-blood son, don't talk so formal with me. Yes, I'm Hodge, but I don't do brews anymore. Was that all?” Hodge asked, clearly impatient to get back to his solitude.

  “Sir... Hodge, you're my last chance. I've scoured four towns for an alchemist able to brew Kwiller antivenom, and nobody has been able to. My nephew needs this and soon. I'll pay you handsomely for your time.”

  Old man Hodge squinted before sighing.

  “You don't understand, young man. If I could save a young life, I would. It's that I can't. I'm completely blind in one eye and the other's not far gone either, as is my sense of smell and taste. I can't do brews anymore.”

  David remained motionless for a few seconds, the old man's clear sympathy rolling off of him and pooling at his feet with the rest of his hope.

  “I... see. Apologies for disturbing you, Mr. Hodge.” David managed to push out of his mouth as he slowly walked away, the door closing behind him after a few more moments.

  Eventually, as the weight of his failure started sinking in, pointlessly trying to deny the situation, David found himself sitting on an old bench in what seemed to be a small, rundown plaza devoid of people. He had been running on fumes for the past 3 days, pushed forward only by the hope that he'd find light at the end of the road. Now that was gone, and he had nothing left.

  I have one set of ingredients left. He thought. Maybe I can ask someone to try again? That old lady in Graveway had seemed to say it had been a near miss, but that town's at least 2 days away from where I am. There's no way Samuel is going to last that long. Am I going to have to tell Luke and Martha that their son is going to die?

  He shuddered at the thought, failure pressing in on him.

  /”What am I going to do?”

  \”What am I going to do?”

  He froze. Someone had spoken at the same time as him, just behind...

  He craned his neck and locked stares with the catkin woman from before, on an opposite bench, herself looking his way as surprised as he was.

  She gave him a sad smile, her ears twitching but resting flat.

  “Hello. It's you again. Having troubles too?”

  He sighed and slowly got up to go share the bench with her.

  “At this point... yeah. My nephew is going to die.”

  “Oh no. Why? What happened?” She asked, her ears flattening even lower.

  Was it even worth talking about it? With a stranger? He slowly shook his head.

  “He got injured by a Kwiller that got out of its cage in Bellharbour. We've pumped him full of neutralizers and fortifiers to try and slow the process while I looked for the antivenom, but...”

  Understanding flickered in her eyes. “But nobody this far north has any...” She held herself for a second, hesitantly continuing. “Did... you try and get someone to brew it for you?”

  He pulled out the formula from his pouch and handed it to her.

  “I did. I collected the ingredients and went around 14, well, 15, now, alchemists to try and brew a dose. They all failed or refused to try, saying the recipe was too complicated.”

  She eyed the formula for a few moments.

  “I... huh, I'm not sure how to tell you, but this formula is incomplete. Where did you find it?”

  “Incomplete?!”

  He remained stunned for a second as he connected the dots. Bloody pits! The half-faded formula he'd found and transcribed! Was part of it actually fully faded?

  David groaned as the damning possibility flooded him with despair, before his thoughts jumped.

  “Wait, how can you even tell?!”

  She recoiled slightly from his outburst. “I... grew up in Majestic. It's far enough south that Kwillers showed up now and then. I helped my father brew a few antivenoms back when... when I lived there.”

  Two brain cells connected in David's head. “You're an alchemist.”

  She puffed out her chest, ears pointing up. “I am! One of the best, too, raised and trained by the legend of Majestic himself, Cornelius the All Brew!” She deflated. “Or at least I would be if I had an alchemy set...”

  David's mind spun up frantically. “You said you brewed this antivenom before, and you know the full recipe? If I get you a set, can you brew a dose?”

  She blinked. “Well, I mean, it was a while ago, but I guess so?” She shook her head. “No, I could. I can do it.” She affirmed.

  David sprang up. “Niala, right? Come with me, we're going to get you a set.”

  “What? Where? The only set in town is at Brenson's, and if he sees me again, I'm certain he'll have me thrown in jail.”

  “We're going to see old Hodge.”

  “Old Hodge? Oh! The old blind codger! He's an alchemist? I never heard of him doing any brewing.” She said, ears twitching.

  “He is, or was. I bet he still has his kit. Old people like to collect things. Come on, time's wasting.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the bench, dragging her along at a near sprint.

  “Waaaiit! I have short legs! You're moving too faaassstt!”

  A few minutes later, they were at Hodge's house, David banging at the door, with Niala catching her breath behind him.

  The door creaked open once again. The old man looked up at the vaguely man-shaped blur before him.

  “What is it? What do you want? Who are you? Why are you trying to break down my poor door?”

  “I'm David. We spoke earlier about alchemy.”

  “Aye? Nothing's changed since then. If anything, I think my vision's gotten worse...”

  “No, I know. I want to buy your alchemy set.”

  Hodge squinted. “My old set? Are you sure? It's been packed for a few years, and even before that, it was pretty battered.”

  “I'm sure. How much do you want?”

  Hodge pulled at his wispy beard. “Tell you what. If you manage to get that crate out of the pile it's under without breaking anything, it's yours for free.”

  “Free?”

  “Yes, but only if you don't break anything. It's a very big pile.”

  David nodded. If this is what it took for a chance at saving his nephew, he'd give it his all.

  “Lead me to it.”

  Seeing Hodge's half-toothed predatory smile, David began to wonder just how big the pile was.

  It hadn't been a pile. It hadn't been a pile at all.

  It had been an entire room filled up to the door with stuff. He was certain some of the things in there were lost religious artifacts and missing national treasures. He could have sworn one of the paintings had winked at him. Obviously, the crate with the alchemy set was in the farthest corner at the very bottom.

  As David disassembled the stuff, one infuriating object at a time, while Hodge, who had enlisted Niala's help, had been cataloguing his hoard in a notebook and then had badgered David into reassembling everything in a very specific order.

  A full 3 bells and some later, covered in a paste of sweat mixed with dust, it was finally done, and so was his patience; every bell counted.

  He looked back at the room, the stuff didn't seem to have reduced, even with the mid-sized crate removed from it. If anything, it looked even denser than before. He shook his head. None of that mattered.

  “Well, that's a surprise. The last lad I asked to help with my pile gave up half a bell in.” Hodge said as he appraised his stuff.

  “A deal has been said and done then. The crate and its contents are yours. Now git, get out. I missed my afternoon nap with all this commotion.”

  Crate in hand, David and Niala were ushered out, the door creaking closed behind them.

  They looked at each other.

  “If you don't talk about it, I won't,” Niala said, ears twitching conspiratorially.

  “Agreed,” David said. “Do you have somewhere we can set this up?” He asked as he hefted the crate.

  “Well... I have this place I've been temporarily inhabiting.” She said, tapping the ground with her foot, hands fidgeting, ears flat.

  “You mean squatting?”

  “No, temporarily inhabiting. It's nobody's anyway.”

  “That's squatting.”

  “It's not! It's... ok, it's squatting. But I don't have a choice! Brenson ripped me out of my money!”

  “I understand. I've squatted a few times myself, don't fret. I'm going to pay you for this anyway, so don't worry.”

  Her eyes lit up, and her ears pointed up. “You will?! Pay me?!”

  “I... yes? Were you going to brew for free?”

  “I just... assumed since you were getting me a kit that that'd be my payment?”

  David looked at her, then at the crate, back to her. “Wouldn't feel right. Anyway, payment's dependent on you actually brewing the antivenom.”

  “Oh, don't worry, I'm the best alchemist this side of the Spireridges! I'll brew it for sure!” She said, giving him a thumbs-up. “Follow me! To my humble, huh...” she glanced back at him. “Squat, I guess...”

  She awkwardly set off towards the west as he followed her, a small glimmer of hope still alive.