Just think of it as my last interview, he thought wryly. Except my pitch here involves convincing a crazy alchemist that I'm worth teaching instead of being capable of making a great slide deck.
The streets grew quieter as Caleb approached Aurelian's district. Fewer vendors hawked their wares here, and the foot traffic thinned to the occasional well-dressed shopper while mostly being servants on errands. He noted the shift as he walked. Busy energy replaced the boisterous atmosphere that surrounded the inn.
As he made his way he dredged up unwelcome thoughts of strategy meetings. He recalled fragments of corporate wisdom: stakeholder buy-in, value proposition, unique selling points. They were absurd buzzwords that he now tried to retrofit to this grim reality. The key to any negotiation was understanding what the other party wanted and positioning yourself as the solution. Aurelian likely wanted competence without complications that would help him progress his own work. Caleb just had to figure out how to package himself that way.
He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and continued forward. Time to sell myself to the devil.
The shop's dark facade appeared ahead. He pushed through the unlocked door, expecting to find Aurelian at the counter.
Instead, the shop stood empty.
A small bell had chimed at his entrance, its clear note fading into the silence. From somewhere in the back he heard steady bubbling and the soft hiss of vapor. An alchemical apparatus at work.
The counter lay bare. Rows of near-barren shelves lined the walls, and a persistent chemical smell filled the air. The pristine order of the place was unsettling to him, so different from the Hearthsong's organized chaos.
Caleb shifted the wrapped package in his hands, uncertain. Should he call out? Wait?
His new [Spiritual Perception] prickled to life unbidden. Using his limited range, he walked toward the shelves, curious about what Aurelian actually sold.
The sensation was... educational. Each vial and bottle gave off its own distinct aura, though interpreting them was like trying to read a language he'd only just discovered existed. One bottle felt warm and sweet, like honey left in sunlight. Another was bright and cool, almost minty in its spiritual texture.
He concentrated on the tiny hand-written labels: Draught of Healing (D), Elixir of Focus (D), and Philter of Night-Eye (D). Though the names meant nothing to him yet, he tucked each detail away for later. Information was currency, even if he didn't know the exchange rate.
The door to the lab opened with a sudden crack. Caleb flinched, spinning toward the sound with a jerk.
"What are you doing?"
Aurelian stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle as a vein pulsed in his temple, silver-blond hair more disheveled than yesterday. A faint purple stain marked his otherwise immaculate sleeve.
The alchemist glanced from Caleb to the nearest shelf, then back again. The irritation on his face curdled into a deeper annoyance.
"Were you attempting to steal from me?" He spoke with that particular brand of contempt reserved for the terminally stupid. "Or just gawking like some slack-jawed—" He cut himself off with a curt gesture. "Never mind. The food. There." He pointed imperiously at a side table near the front corner.
Caleb moved to comply, his prepared speech perched on the tip of his tongue. Before he could speak, however, the shop's main door rang again. A human woman entered.
She shared Aurelian's angular features: the same high cheekbones and grey eyes that seemed to catalog and dismiss in a single glance. She'd pulled her own silver-blond hair back in a messy bun, and mud clung to her boots and she strode purposefully across the floor.
"I disposed of the b—" She stopped mid-word, finally noticing Caleb.
Body. She was going to say body, wasn't she?
He fought to keep his face neutral but something must have shown, as her eyes narrowed.
"Do not worry about him, Selara." Aurelian waved a dismissive hand. "He is the boy I told you about." He turned to Caleb with a cold smirk. "I'm surprised you came back at all, errand boy."
Selara relaxed her rigid shoulders and looked away from Caleb, writing him off as completely as one might a piece of furniture. She turned back to her brother, and relief surged through Caleb.
Then she launched into what was clearly a recurring argument.
"Three more foragers turned down my postings this week," she said as she moved to the counter. "Zarven's threats are working. Soon I shall be your only source for anything that does not come in a merchant's catalog."
"And that arrangement has been more than sufficient, sister. Your findings have been... sufficiently adequate for my research needs."
"Adequate, he says. I am just one source, Aurelian. One person who can gather what you need. What happens when Zarven decides even that is too much competition?"
Caleb stayed quiet in his corner while he processed the new information. This was economic warfare, plain and simple. Zarven was systematically dismantling Aurelian's supply chain. The prestigious alchemist was a prisoner in a gilded cage.
"Perhaps we should consider my suggestion," Selara continued. "There are other villages and towns. Places where your talents would be appreciated rather than—"
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"I have told you before: I like it here. The humidity is good for my skin."
A heavy silence filled the shop, broken only by the soft bubbling from the back room. Selara pressed her lips into a hard line, staring at her brother with an exasperation Caleb recognized. He'd worn that exact look in conference rooms when ego trumped logic.
Aurelian flushed, eyes snapping toward Caleb. "What are you still doing here, boy? Drooling over my vials? Be gone!"
Caleb saw his opening, terrible as the timing might be. Drawing a slow breath, he centered himself the way he once had before big presentations. While the pitch he'd rehearsed felt flimsy, its core logic remained sound. He adopted the measured confidence of a consultant outlining a solution.
"I want to become your apprentice. For the last six weeks I've worked at The Hearthsong Inn and started with vegetables. Now, Cassia Hearthsong trusts me to handle purchases from the Adventurer's Guild in the tens of gold. She trusts me with deliveries to clients of your stature." He let the unspoken implication hang in the air.
"I'm reliable. I learn fast. And I'm not afraid of Zarven or Cillian."
Aurelian raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as a corner of his mouth twitched upward. Then he let out a barking laugh.
"An apprentice? I don't train grubby little street boys. Get out!"
But Caleb was already pivoting, having lived long enough to know he couldn't push Aurelian further today on his own. Instead, he turned to face Selara. In his peripheral vision, he caught the alchemist's brief flash of indignation at being so casually sidelined.
"I can help you grow this business," Caleb said, addressing Selara alone. "I learn fast and I'm a hard worker. Please help me convince him."
Selara shook her head, baffled, but there was something appraising in her expression now. "I can't make him take an apprentice any more than I can make him..." She trailed off, looking Caleb up and down. She frowned slightly. "You look like you would snap in half if something looked at you wrong."
The criticism stung, but Caleb had faced harsher performance reviews. The gambit wasn't landing as he'd hoped, but he endeavored to stay composed as he tried another angle. "You need foragers. I'm a nobody. Zarven has no reason to watch me. You need someone who can gather materials while staying beneath his notice. I can apprentice with you too."
Selara laughed, a brittle, humorless sound that matched her brother's. "Now you want to be my apprentice as well? Greedy, are you not? I would never take anyone who cannot handle themselves in the forest. And as I said, you look like—"
"What does 'handling myself' mean for someone at my tier?"
He asked like he was clarifying project requirements. He needed concrete, measurable goals after all. His interruption brought Selara up short as she actually seemed to consider the question. She pursed her lips as she stared at him.
"It means you can kill a feral goblin," she said finally, as if the matter were closed. "One on one. Nothing less."
A notification chimed.
[New Skill Gained: Negotiation (F) - Practiced]
It felt like validation, a small acknowledgment that he'd successfully steered this conversation from disaster to opportunity. If this were one of Jack's games, he thought, a big glowing quest notification would pop up right now. 'Slay the Feral Goblin.' He paused a beat, waiting to see if the cosmos would answer. Oh well, it was worth a shot.
"I'll hold you to that," he replied.
Something shifted in her gaze. Surprise? Maybe a hint of respect? Caleb turned back to Aurelian who had watched the exchange irritably. The alchemist looked baffled at the outcome, glancing between Caleb and his sister. Caleb removed the preservation cloth from the food delivery and made for the door. "I'll be back tomorrow with your next meal. Don't let this one get cold."
He exited without waiting for a response, leaving the siblings to process what had just happened. Behind him, he heard Selara, a trace of amusement carrying through the doorway.
"Interesting little street rat you've acquired, brother."
Aurelian's response was lost as the door swung shut behind him, but Caleb could imagine the sputtering outrage. Good. Let them talk about me. Let them wonder.
Caleb stepped into the afternoon sunlight, mind already racing. He had terms now. A clear goal. Kill a feral goblin, prove himself capable, and gain access to training that could help him earn more.
Simple. And absolutely terrifying. He had no idea how he was supposed to go about entering into mortal combat when he didn't even like to butcher meat from the grocery store.
His career experience told him the first step of any impossible project was to break it down into manageable chunks. Like, learning about goblins and finding out where they lived. Figuring out what weapons he could use. Build strengths, develop Skills, create a plan - all of that good stuff.
Yet, he was clear-eyed about his chances. Selara was right and she didn't know the half of it. He was weak, untrained, and soft from a lifetime of office work. But he had advantages she couldn't see. His Impartments were one. The other was the new power he'd carried since his Awakening.
He focused on the warm kinetic energy swirling in his muscles. He extended his right hand and used his Intent, picturing it flowing down his arm and gathering in his fist. And it worked! Kind of. A surge of heat flooded his limb, a feeling of potent readiness. He tried to clench his hand, to imagine a punch empowered by this new strength. Instead, the unchecked energy poured into his fingers and they spasmed uncontrollably, snapping backward into a painful hyperextension. A hot, ugly pain shot up his wrist and he cried out, cradling his hand.
Crumb!
[New Skill Gained: Stamina Channeling (F) - Novice]
The power was certainly there, wild and untamed. And channeling it without training was just as certainly a sure way to hurt himself.
Shaking his throbbing hand, he decided to try the next option. It felt calmer and less volatile. He held his left palm open and willed the cool current from his core to gather there. Again, it obeyed his Intent. A distinct pool of the cold blue energy formed just above his palm, but almost immediately started to get dispersed. He had to continually feed it for it to stay visible. Ok, this is… somewhat working. Now what? I need to do something before I run out of it! He pictured a fireball, a classic from every fantasy game he'd ever heard of. He imagined heat, flames, a sphere of destructive force. The charge in his hand heated briefly then dissipated into nothing, leaving only a faint tingle.
[New Skill Gained: Mana Channeling (F) - Novice]
It was a complete failure. He could move it well enough, but doing something useful with it eluded him. It was just unstructured potential, useless and even dangerous. He realized that controlling it was likely a Skill, a craft that required practice. And until he learned the rules he was only a danger to himself and others.
So be it. He'd rely on what he knew: preparation.
The walk back to the inn felt longer than usual as he swirled through possibilities in his mind. He'd need weapons. Training and information. Most of all, he'd need to be smart about this. He would proceed with caution and diligence, respecting the danger despite his newly gained combat skills.
But first, he had work to finish. Gareth would be wondering where he'd gone and he couldn't afford to lose his position at the inn. He'd need those silver coins more than ever now. Arms and armor didn't buy themselves.
As the Hearthsong came into view, he felt a measure of satisfaction. He'd set things in motion. Things that could help solidify his future. The corporate drone who'd died in a car accident would never have imagined negotiating apprenticeships with murderer-adjacent alchemists or planning to hunt goblins.
Then again, that version of him had never needed to.
The inn's entrance was ahead, and with it, the return to normalcy. But normal was just camouflage now. Every chopped vegetable and served meal, every coin earned was one step closer to his goal.
He had a mission. He had a plan.
He had a goblin to kill.