Fortress Al-Mir

“Not the friendliest place, is it?” Dakka asked, eyes traveling over the muddy road and the few poor souls who had ventured out into the moderate rain.

Arkk didn’t say anything as he pulled his heavy cloak a little tighter, but he agreed in full.

Darkwood Burg wasn’t a particularly well-to-do settlement. Arkk would never compare a regular burg to an actual city like Cliff, but even compared to a backwater like Smilesville, Darkwood was lacking. The quality of the buildings wasn’t anywhere near that of other burgs, the people walked with their heads down and only glanced up to look at newcomers with suspicion, and its surrounding farmlands were smaller and far less healthy than others Arkk had seen—though with several of the fields being empty from the recent harvest, maybe Arkk shouldn’t judge too harshly.

The wall was the only truly impressive aspect of the burg. A thick stone wall wrapped around the entire settlement. Most burgs contained a larger keep where the local lord sat, which might have some amount of important structures enclosed within the wall but was otherwise fairly insular. Beyond the keep, the rest of most burgs were regular villages that spread out from the walls.

Darkwood Burg had a large keep in the center along with a hefty wall, but a second, larger wall surrounded every other building. On the way in, Arkk spotted less than five buildings outside the wall.

Part of that, Arkk figured, was its location. Darkwood was so named for the nearby Darkwoods, a particularly nasty bit of terrain filled with all manner of unpleasant creatures. Or so Arkk had gathered from asking about the area over the last few days that he and his group had been traveling. Among the many dangers, there were known goblin infestations, an insect colony that tended to leave people alone until they didn’t, occasional sightings of ghasts, and it was a known hunting ground for raptors. A necromancer had allegedly called the area home well over a hundred years ago and, while he had been slain, there were still rumors of undead wandering and attacking anything living they came across.

With all that, one might wonder why anyone bothered to live here. The lumber harvested from the forest, which was a rich, near-black hardwood, was a valuable and rare luxury for the wealthy. Too valuable, it seemed, for the locals to build their homes out of it.

Arkk and Dakka came to a stop outside a small, unassuming building. The signboard on the wall lacked text but did possess a rather intricate carving of an alchemical alembic and several stoppered vials.

“This it?”

“Yes,” Arkk said with a frown. “Check around the sides for other entrances. Watch them if there are any, otherwise return and wait here.”

“Sure thing. Orjja,” Dakka said, pointing, “left side. Farr’an, with her. I’ll take the right.”

As the three orcs spread out, Arkk pushed open the door, tossing his hood off as he stepped out of the rain.

The smell hit him first. An unpleasant sting of a dozen different concoctions. The potion fumes were thick enough in the air that Arkk felt a need to leave the door open lest he suffocate entirely. Wafting a hand in front of his face, a useless gesture, he pressed forward. There were living people in here and if they could survive the air, he could as well. He wasn’t about to be stopped by a foul smell.

Stepping past dusty shelves filled with aging bottles of colored liquids, Arkk approached a wide counter. A person stood behind it, cloaked in thick black clothes. The individual wore a full face-concealing mask. Dark lenses allowed sight while a long, beak-like protrusion jutted out from the mouth and nose area. The attire revealed no skin and no hair, but Arkk did note the gloves had a few too many fingers as the person poured sticky, black liquid from a wide metal pan with a notch on one side into a small glass jar.

Arkk waited, not wanting to disturb the alchemist and cause them to spill whatever that potion was. He simply looked around, noting a raven perched on a thin dowel behind the counter. Several pots and cauldrons were propped up on a stone firepit against the back wall, though there was no fire lit at the moment.

Eventually, the alchemist ceased pouring the black liquid and promptly stoppered the glass jar and covered the larger pot with a metal lid. Placing both containers to the side, the alchemist clasped their many fingers together, gently placing his gloved hands on the countertop.

“Apologies. Thank you for waiting,” they whispered, voice muffled behind the mask. “How can I serve you? Perhaps I can interest you in a soakless solution to keep the rain off your cloak?”

“Tempting,” Arkk said honestly. He almost coughed as he breathed in but, now that there was a lid on whatever potion the alchemist had been brewing, the air had started to clear. “But I’m here for information today.”

“Ah. Interested in learning the art of alchemy yourself?” They leaned forward, whispering voice speaking with a little more intensity. “It is a rewarding discipline, but mistakes can cost you dearly. You would not believe how annoying it is to get gloves made with eight fingers,” they said, holding up their hand and wiggling around the extra digits.

“That’s…” That wasn’t what he had come here for, but couldn’t help himself. “Are you offering personal tutoring or books?”

“I do not recognize you. You are a traveler. Unless you are planning on staying in Darkwood for a significant amount of time, I would not be able to offer an apprenticeship that would teach you anything effective.”

“You are correct. I hope to not be in the area for more than a few days.”

“In that case,” they said, turning away. They walked over behind some curtains hanging off to the side of the counter. Leaning forward, Arkk spotted a tall series of shelves filled with a number of books and small bits of equipment. They pulled off a worn and weathered book that was less a proper tome and more a collection of papers haphazardly bound together with thin pieces of twine. Returning to the counter, they placed it down. “This is what got me my start. It is a fairly simple treatise with a small collection of recipes that can all be brewed in a simple cooking pot, so no need for any exotic equipment. Perfect for beginners.”

Arkk raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m in the market for something for beginners?”

“You still have both your eyebrows,” they said with a wispy laugh.

After staring for a moment, Arkk shrugged. “Fair enough. That sounds perfect. What are you asking for it?”

“Let’s say…” they trailed off, humming in thought. Far too many fingers drummed against the counter before their beak-like mask dipped in a nod. “Thirty-four of the King’s stamped silvers.”

There wasn’t a hard exchange rate from gold to silvers. At least not his gold. On the way to Cliff, he had exchanged several pieces of gold for a few pouches of silver with a few of the wealthier merchants he had come across, simply to make it easier to pay for things elsewhere without having to haggle over the value of his gold. The best rate he got was one gold piece for thirty silvers. The worst had been one for thirteen.

Arkk fished a pair of gold coins from inside his cloak. Knowing he was going to pay for the actual information he had come here for, he didn’t want to hand over every single silver that he had.

The alchemist picked up one of the pieces of gold, holding it up to the dark lens in their mask before dropping it into a small glass bowl on the counter. The other coin went on one side of a set of scales. Ducking underneath the counter, the alchemist returned with a bottle of clear liquid and a thin glass straw. After dipping the straw into the clear liquid, the alchemist placed their finger over the other end. When they lifted the straw, a small amount of liquid remained suspended in the bottom until, holding the straw over the gold coin, they removed their finger. The liquid fell out, landing on top of the gold coin. A few sizzling bubbles appeared on the surface of the coin, but only for a brief moment. In short order, the liquid calmed and stilled until it looked no different from water.

“I do not recognize the stamp, but this is quite pure gold.” The alchemist leaned down to the scale, adding a few weights to the other side until the coin was evenly balanced. “Very well. This will suffice.” Reaching under the counter again, the alchemist pulled up a thin section of animal hide and began wrapping the treatise. “I would hate to see it damaged by the rain.”

“Thank you,” Arkk said. He placed another three gold coins on the countertop. “But I originally came here for a different type of information.”

“Oh?” the alchemist asked, tying a piece of twine around the hide-bound book before sliding it across the counter toward Arkk. They did not touch the new coins, however. “What might that be?”

“There was a woman here about nine days ago. Young with dark skin and curly white hair, wearing a green cloak,” Arkk said, repeating the information Vezta had given him before he left the fortress. “I would like to know about her.”

The alchemist slowly shook their head. “I receive a great many customers. My services are in high demand within Darkwood.”

“You brewed a violet-hued potion for her. It took an hour and she stood by in that corner over there, watching until it was finished,” Arkk said. He dropped ten more coins onto the pile. “She tried to pay you with a few silvers, but you refused.”

The pointed beak of the alchemist’s mask dipped down to the counter before they looked back toward Arkk. “It sounds as if you know a great deal already.”

“She returned every day for the next three days and then two days after that. She brought you lunch,” Arkk said. She had just sat and talked, spending almost the entire day here. “I believe she is the daughter of a viscount, kidnapped and currently missing. Her father is worried about her.”

The alchemist took in a deep breath. “Sir—”

Arkk pulled out a fistful of gold, nearly doubling the size of the pile.

The alchemist just shook their head. “You can pile gold onto the counter all day long. It won’t change what I know, which seems to be a fair deal less than you.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, staring into the mask’s dark lenses. Eventually, he dipped his head with a small sigh. While scraping the pile of coins back into his pouch, he left one on the counter. “Sorry,” he said, then slid the extra coin toward the alchemist. “An apology for harassing you. I’ve just been worried for her. Whoever kidnapped her… well, they seem to be the worst sort imaginable.”

When the alchemist said nothing, Arkk picked up the wrapped book and headed back toward the door. Pausing, he looked back.

“If you do recall anything, I am staying at the local stayover for another few days.”

Stepping outside, Arkk threw his hood on and then took a deep breath of fresh air.

Dakka, Orjja, and Farr’an were casually leaning against the adjacent building, talking with each other. None looked like they were watching the entrance in the slightest, yet all three subtly shifted the moment Arkk stepped out. Heading in the opposite direction, he turned a corner; they followed after a few moments.

“Nothing?”

“Just the one door,” Dakka said. “Rainy day like this and nobody’s walking around either. Street was deserted the whole time you were inside.”

Nodding, Arkk reached inside his cloak and pulled out a crystal ball.

He had taken the crystal ball on the trip to watch the shop on the way. Both he and Vezta had been unable to discover where the woman had been going before and after the potion shop. She had a cloak that rendered her invisible to scrying, and possibly regular vision as well, though Arkk hadn’t yet seen her in person to test that.

Quite the suspicious item—and activities—for someone supposedly kidnapped. There were only two reasons why a young woman would be kidnapped. Ransom or lust. The former could be ruled out as no ransom notice had been given to her father. The latter made Arkk irrationally angry just thinking about it, but he felt that could be ruled out as well. No matter the reason why someone had been kidnapped, they wouldn’t be allowed to roam around with a magical item.

Still, Arkk didn’t think she had escaped either. The notice of her kidnapping had been posted weeks ago and the sighting of her in Darkwood was old as well. Yet she was still here. Or had been several days ago. If she had gone to a city guard and mentioned the reward for her safe return, she would have been in Cliff by now.

Which meant she hadn’t been kidnapped at all.

Arkk motioned toward the crystal ball, lighting it up with a touch of magic. The alchemist appeared inside, standing over the counter. They hadn’t gone back to their work with the sticky black potion but were instead using a single one of their many fingers to roll the gold coin back and forth on its edge.

Arkk waited, watching the crystal ball. Hoping. For over an hour, the alchemist didn’t move. They just stood there, fiddling with the gold coin. Eventually, however, the alchemist picked up the coin, palming it in their fist. They stepped around the counter and carefully approached the door. Opening the door just a crack, they peered out into the rainy street, slowly opening the door wider to see further. With the door opened enough to step through, the alchemist looked around. Upon spotting nobody, they grabbed a cloak from near the door, pulled it up over their head and mask, and stepped outside.

“Alright,” Arkk said, alerting the orcs around him. “It’s time. Let’s see where you’re going…”

Using the crystal ball to remain entirely out of sight while keeping a watch on the alchemist made following them through the burg almost too easy. Arkk felt like he should at least be trying to sneak around, yet he and three lumbering orcs walked out in the open because they knew exactly where their target was even while remaining a street away.

The alchemist was at least trying to be careful. Arkk did have to give them credit for that. With how much they were looking around and ducking down side streets and alleys, anyone without a crystal ball either would have lost the alchemist or they would have been caught.

As it was, they managed to follow the alchemist to a rundown old single-room building on the opposite side of the city.

The alchemist started pacing out front, so Arkk quickly checked inside the home. “Found her,” he said, watching as the woman who he presumed to be the viscount’s daughter stirred a stew hanging over a small fire in the fireplace. The alchemist knocked and she jolted, tensing so quickly that the ladle went flying from her fingertips, spilling stew across the floor.

From his position around the side of a small house, Arkk couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could see the woman speaking through the door. She almost melted in relief when she realized who it was. Which Arkk took as a good sign. If this wasn’t Gretchen, the viscount’s daughter, after all this sneaking about, he would be beyond surprised.

As Gretchen opened the door, the alchemist glanced around one last time before stepping in.

He did a quick scan of the interior, but there wasn’t much space in there to check. A bed, a table, a few stools, and a bookshelf with many alchemical texts. The latter fact made him wonder if the home belonged to the alchemist, though he hadn’t seen the alchemist return here in all the time Arkk spent watching him.

“Check doors again,” Arkk said, rounding the corner and hurrying up to the small home. “She might be invisible. If a door opens and you don’t see anything, try to block the way as best you can.”

“Orjja, left. Farr’an, right. If there are more doors and windows than you two can guard on your own, let me know. I’ll ensure no one comes out the front.”

“Remember, we aren’t trying to harm her,” Arkk said, still watching the crystal ball. “And we need to hurry. The alchemist is probably telling her to go on the run again. With that cloak of hers, we might never find her.”

It had been, frankly, a stroke of luck that Vezta decided to search the burg as well as the neighboring forest. Repeating that wouldn’t be easy.

While the two orcs moved around the building, Arkk walked right up to the front door. For a moment, he considered walking in but decided against it. Startling them might cause a fight. A knock, on the other hand, would give them a moment to steady and prepare. Maybe prepare to fight, maybe prepare to flee. With the crystal ball in hand and the orcs watching two windows around the back, Arkk felt prepared for either eventuality.

Both jumped at the knock. The alchemist moved to put Gretchen behind his back, standing in front of her with their arm raised to shield her. Arkk almost missed it at the first glance, but the alchemist had a pair of glass vials held between the fingers of their outstretched hand, looking ready to throw them. Yet another confirmation that barging right in would have been a bad idea. Even as it was, Arkk wished that the fortress was nearby if only to have an easy escape via teleportation if things took a turn for the worse.

When no one did barge through, the alchemist said something to Gretchen, who quickly donned the invisibility cloak, revealing a small coat stand that had been concealed by its power. It was an interesting effect. Not as great as the [HEART] and its construction, teleportation, and employee utilities, but if the cloak was the first magical artifact Arkk had ever seen, his jaw would have been dragging along the floor. As soon as Gretchen was fully hidden, the alchemist stepped closer to the door.

“Good evening,” Arkk said when the door opened a crack.

The alchemist started. Their face was still hidden behind their mask, but the jolt that ran through their whole body gave it away. The lenses of their mask glinted as they looked up to the side where Dakka stood, arms crossed.

“We’ll draw less attention inside,” Arkk said with a smile. “Unless you would prefer attention. I know we are not the only ones looking for Miss Gretchen.”

That wasn’t even a lie. In the two days he and Dakka had been in town, they had asked around. With the amount of money the Viscount was offering, it was no surprise that every bounty hunter in the region had gravitated around Darkwood.

“Miss… who?” the alchemist whispered. “Sir, I think—”

Arkk lifted the crystal ball. It was in front of him already, between the door and his body, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find the large beak of the mask had blocked the view. Now, however, the crystal clear image of the interior of the single-room home was clear to see.

The alchemist’s shoulders dropped. “I see.” Opening the door wider, they stepped aside. “Come in quickly, I suppose.”

Dakka immediately moved, repositioning herself to completely block the now wide-open door. She stepped in first, ducking her head under the doorway, with Arkk following right behind. He closed the door, ensuring no invisible woman slipped past. As Arkk stepped further into the small living space, Dakka took up position behind him, still blocking the door. He quickly checked the crystal ball, noting Orjja and Farr’an outside the two shuttered windows, making sure to linger on both long enough for anyone paying attention to notice. Slipping the crystal ball into a leather pouch under his cloak, Arkk looked up with a smile.

“I think the stew might be burning,” he said, tone as calm and casual as possible. The potions in the alchemist’s hands weren’t visible at the moment, but he wanted to avoid doing anything that might get those thrown at him, unsure what they might do. “Please relax. Gretchen, I’m not here to drag you back to your father. Probably.”

A slight gasp from the corner of the room had both Arkk and Dakka shifting, though neither moved.

Eventually, just to the left of where Arkk was looking, Gretchen shuffled off her cloak, leaving it around her shoulders but letting it hang loose with her hood off. Arkk expected to see fear on her face but was surprised to see that she looked about ready to attack anyone that came near. Probably with the ladle she had picked up sometime between now and when she had dropped it.

“What do you mean, probably?”

“Were you ever kidnapped? Are you being held here against your will? Are you in danger here? Are you hiding here from someone and are unable to return to your father?”

With each question, Gretchen shook her head back and forth.

Sighing, Arkk asked one final question. “Do you want to go back to your father?”

“No,” she said, almost as a hiss. “That bastard can—” Cutting herself off, she threw an angry glance at the wall, refusing to look at anyone.

Arkk exchanged a glance with Dakka. “Could always drag her back anyway. Not like they can stop us,” the orc said.

“No, no,” Arkk said, noting both the alchemist and Gretchen tense. “We’re trying to rescue someone. I doubt Ilya would be happy knowing we boosted our fame at the expense of someone else. And that’s assuming she didn’t kill me first.”

Gretchen looked up at that. “Rescue someone?” she asked.

Arkk shrugged his shoulders. “We hoped to return you to your father would make us notable enough—perhaps with a little help from your father’s connections—to open a few doors that are currently closed to us. I honestly thought finding you would be the hard part. Now…” With a sigh, Arkk gestured toward the pot of stew. “Why not take that off the fire and then let us sit down and discuss a few things? Maybe we can turn this around and somehow not make it a big waste of time.”