A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I'm not sure that's how it works…" Pauline responded with a wavering smile, as she continued to lead them down the various rows of streets, past the noble sections, and then past even the yellow-shirted area, until they began to hear the clang of metal, and the crowds began to thin.

"What's this?" Oliver asked, as he looked down the comparatively quiet street. Quiet from the lack of people, but not from the lack of work. There were several blacksmith stalls set up, with one permanent building affixed between them, where a man was beating a red-hot glowing lump of steel into shape on an anvil.

Oliver could help but think it dangerous to have a forge right next to a building made of wood.

"Do you mean the lack of people?" Pauline asked. "Yes… These are more specialty goods, so the crowds tend to be smaller."

"Hm… Seems kind of sad, to see the swords so out of the way," Oliver said, as he passed by a tent, where a row of shining blades hung from a rack, and a man idled his time away polishing another.

Then he glanced at the sign. Ten golds for a sword. No wonder… If your prices were that high, the lack of a crowd wasn't much of a problem. You only needed a few customers to keep you afloat.

These weren't basic military swords either. Even the worst of them was crafted to be unique, with engravings on the hilt, and jewels in the pommel. Some of the more expensive ones even had patterns along the blade.

They were incredibly pretty. He caught Blackthorn looking at them with just as much interest as he.

He paused outside a stall where there stood a rack of spears. Kolan had helped ignite an interest in the spear for him… Or at least, an appreciation for other weapons. He'd found himself wanting a weapon of his own that he could practise with.

Glancing at the prices, though, that seemed unlikely. Less so than the swords, but they were still mightly expensive. Five golds for even the worst of them. He quickly moved on, before he caught the attention of the store owner, and the man tried to pressure him into another buy.

"The alchemists have a few stalls at the end of this street," Pauline informed him, pointing towards where she meant.

Oliver could see three scattered stalls with some rather grim-faced tradesmen working their craft between them. None of their tents looked particularly… enticing. In fact, one of them had a rather sizable hole chewed through the side of its wax lining.

"I've never actually been to one of these before," Amelia confessed.

"Neither have I," Pauline said.

Blackthorn gave a shake of her head as well, the best they could hope for from her. None of them had ever visited an alchemist… well that made them good company for Oliver, and perhaps explained why the alchemist stalls seemed to be so rundown compared to the rest – they just didn't have the customer base to support their business.

He noted that Amelia and Pauline gradually kept further and further behind him the closer they got to the stalls. They did have a mildly oppressive aura around them. The one store tender that he could see was gloomy, mixing a cauldron of some unidentifiable black liquid. Oliver hoped that it wasn't soup – pity help the man that was forced to eat that.

He looked up from his task as they came near. There were no signs to indicate what they might be buying. There was just a table, with a variety of different bottles on, containing liquids of different colours, though they were all of a vaguely darkish shade.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Shelves towards the back held a variety of ingredients. Oliver thought he recognized a goblin finger.

"Uhm, hello," Oliver said, greeting the gloomy boy that tended his cauldron.

The boy mutedly stared back.

"What are these?" Oliver asked, pointing at the potions.

"Potions," the boy said, continuing his stirring.

"Yes, and their price? Their effects?" Oliver asked, doing his best to remain patient.

The boy sighed, and pointed at a handful of them. "Ointment, keeps out infection. Healing salve – will heal any wound twice as fast. Sickness tonic, will cure any winter cold within the day, and will strengthen the body against more serious things. Focus enhancer. Sleeping aid.

Corpse melter. Poison… And then the others."

As the potions began to take a considerably darker route, the boy tapered off. It almost seemed like he'd fallen asleep, but no, he was still stirring that cauldron of his. From the bags under his eyes, he certainly seemed like he needed a night of sleep. Perhaps he should try his own potion.

"Corpse melter?" Oliver asked.

Another sigh. "A drop will decompose rotting flesh ten times faster than normal."

"And on live flesh?" Oliver asked the obvious question. The boy just shrugged in response.

"What's this ball?" Amelia asked, retrieving a metal ball seemingly from thin air. Oliver hadn't even seen her disappear.

"Explosive," the boy said with a vague shrug.

"Explosive?" Oliver asked. "A weapon, then?"

A shrug again. "Maybe, if they want to use it like that. Good for clearing rocks."

Oliver shuddered, if it was good for clearing rocks, then it'd be just as good at blowing apart bodies. "Do they use this in battle?"

"Mm, no, too unstable. Good for monster hunting, though," he said. Oliver wanted to clarify what he meant by unstable, but Amelia was raking through a chest, pulling out a vile of something else.

"And this?" She asked. It was stuffed in a glass container just like the potions, yet it had been forced in the chest amongst other items. Oliver couldn't help but think that was a poor idea, given the likelihood of the glass breaking. That explosive ball that Amelia had pulled out seemed pretty heavy, after all.

"Fullburn," the boy said. "Burns for longer than oil, and hotter. Good for smelting ingredients."

Oliver shuddered again. Good for ingredients, and likely good for the battlefield as well. He wondered just how many of these alchemist inventions were already in use in warfare. He did recall that Lombard was known for his underhanded tactics in the East. Perhaps he'd be a user of this sort of thing.

"Uhm, listen, I don't know how eager you are for ingredients," Oliver began, not entirely sure if it was worth even asking the boy – he hardly seemed interested in them, after all. "But I have some Hobgoblin flesh that needs selling."