WM [52] Explosive Magical Stew

Jakob was the healer assigned to making the potions with Tanisha. She didn’t know what to make of the man at first. He had a sharp no nonsense and clinical gaze. Obviously he understood the seriousness of the situation they were in and was quick to judge Tanisha’s expertise. Alchemists and herbalists worked closely together on many projects at Tanisha’s school although they had the edge in terms of natural healing techniques. 

His mood lightened up once Tanisha explained her plan in the potions she wanted to make. Seeing her logic he offered insight into the plants she wanted to use and offered alternatives that could have the effect without causing everyone to throw-up. He was a one of the Royal Knight healers and his knowledge far outstript hers on the subject flora and what it would do to people’s bodies. 

Jakob was a tall, nighthand wendigo with dark gray skin that almost blended in with the shadow in the fort. He wasn’t as tall as Tanisha herself who had grown thanks to her transformation. His antlers were adorned with dull silver bands and Tanisha found herself looking at his crown longer than what was considered socially acceptable.

Tanisha turned her gaze away when she realized that he noticed her staring. His armor is sleek and functional, the royal knight insignia etched onto the breastplate, but it’s lighter than most, designed for mobility rather than combat. His gauntlets and helmet are off, revealing the dexterous hands of a healer, stained with herbs and salves instead of blood.

Identify
Name: Jakob Thinne
Species: Wendigo
Level: 65
Vocation: Nature Mage

The border fort had a medical ward and a rudimentary lab which Tanisha and Jakob quickly set up in. Joha and Bjorn joined them but just to observe and not get in the way of the two. Tanisha found working with Jakob refreshing as he was extremely knowledgeable in his field. Normally she worked alone although more recently she had been teaching Adelheid. It was her first time since she left the Lavi that she could work with a peer.

Tanisha’s fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the flame beneath the cauldron, the bubbling liquid inside slowly turning a deep shade of indigo. The scent of herbs—earthy and sharp—filled the air, mingling with the tang of smoke from the smoldering brazier nearby. Jakob worked preparing other ingredients; his movements were confident, precise, and efficient, something that Tanisha hoped she emulated in some capacity.

“Careful with the Yvenroot,” Jakob said, his voice calm but firm. “It… is quite volatile and can react violently if the temperature shifts too fast.”

“I know,” Tanisha said, more to herself than to Jakob. “The alkaloids in Yvenroot enhance the absorption of the other ingredients. It’s just… tricky to balance.” She turned to her familiar. “Bjorn, don’t breathe this in, okay, Big Man?” 

Bjorn nodded his heads adorably, so she carefully measured the shredded pieces of the Yvenroot before tossing them into the mix. Jakob grunted in approval, his gaze shifting to Joha, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with a bemused expression. Tanisha knew he joined them out of curiosity, but she couldn’t lie to herself that she was enjoying seeing him so out of his depth. 

During training he was the master and I am the one that is always painfully far behind, but here it is my domain and I can do something Father can’t.

“Father?” Tanisha said silently to herself, eyes opened slightly wider at the admission. “What am I thinking?”

She looked up at Joha for a second. He was still standing there watching, but now she was feeling the pressure of that gaze. He had told her he was proud of her, what if she messed up? She can’t go around just calling him dad just because he took her in and is training her, and teaching her how to be a merchant and fighting with and for her and…

“Tincture of Veran’s Eye,” Jakob said, passing her the powdered root. “It’s temperamental too. So add it slowly. I will trust your judgment on how much is required. It is what I suggested we could use to replace hidry.” He lazily flipped through one of his herbology books on the table. The chemical composition is here on this page.”

Tanisha took the jar, nodding, though her brow furrowed as she processed the information. She had to take a second to get her head back into what she was working on. She read the page although she had done so four times already before she agreed to change out the hidry for the new ingredient.

 “The binding is critical for the transference of healing magic, isn’t it?” Tanisha said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have done it this way since I don’t know how to use healing magic.”

“Right, demons often can’t use magic.” Jakob said absently. “The Veran’s Eye stabilizes the essence of the chemical spellform we are making. Without it, the potion won’t hold the desired effects once I infuse the final product.”

Tanisha glanced over to Joha, who stood off to the side, arms crossed and a look of complete bewilderment on his face.

Joha raised an eyebrow. “So… why exactly does it matter if the root binds or not? Can’t you just… throw it all in?”

Tanisha chuckled softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “No, it’s not that simple, Joha. Think of it like trying to make a sword. You can’t just melt down steel and hope it becomes a blade.”

Joha frowned. “Venomous nectar? Why use something like that?”

“It was veran not venom,” Tanisha corrected. “And we used it because of how potent it is. But one mistake, and—”

“It’ll kill you,” Jakob finished. “That’s why only experienced herbalists usually work with it. I’ve seen too many young fools think they can skip a step and end up dead for it.”

Joha’s face turned to shock, “It was poisonous? I thought you were making a cleansing potion.”

Tanisha turned her attention back to the cauldron, stirring slowly. “Adding that was the easy part, Joha. The hard part was actually the iridescent cystweed,” she explained to Joha, her tone more serious. “It’s rare enough to find, but when boiled, it turns the mixture unstable if not timed perfectly with magic infusion.”

“That’s why you added the whiteburn sap after, isn’t it?” Jakob snapped a finger in realization. “To stabilize it first.”

“What would have happened if she didn’t?” Joha asked.

Tanisha glanced at Jakob knowingly before turning back to Joha. “The sap neutralizes the volatility of the cystweed. Otherwise, the whole thing would’ve… well, exploded by now.”

“Like that knife in the inn?” Joha asked as he unfolded his arms. “I thought you were making a poison cleansing potion. Why is it explosive?”

“Knife in the…” Tanisha’s face flushed in embarrassment. “I-it would have been explosive only if I messed up. Which I didn’t! And can we not talk about the knife incident.”

Jakob gave an approving nod enraptured by the brew in the cauldron. “You’ve got a good instinct for this, Tanisha. Most wouldn’t think to combine iridescent cystweed and whiteburn sap, but it makes sense. The sap’s calming properties balance the wild energy of the cystweed perfectly.”

“I will wait out in the medical ward if you need me.” Joha said his deep voice faded as he turned around. “I don’t think I will be much help with your magic stew.”

“It’s not a magic stew.” Tanisha yelled after him.

“Right, exploding magic stew, sorry.” Joha added with a wave.

***

Signe made it to the dungeon where they were holding the ghost-born woman. The prisoner processing area was carved deep into the mountain. The air here was thick and damp which only added to the oppressive feeling of claustrophobia. Chains clink faintly as a few ragged prisoners shift uncomfortably; most of the prisoners were humans caught breaking wendigo laws or smuggling contraband. 

Signe hadn’t realized this was where they would take the ghost-born woman and hoped she would still be willing to talk. The warden was a hulking figure, encased in dark, dented armor that made him seem more like an ancient sentinel than a mere guard. His eyes widened the moment he saw her, and he scrambled from his seat, bowing so low that his forehead nearly touched the ground. 

“My Lady Signe Jet.” The man greeted reverently. “Hail First Princess Sigrun.”

Without another word, he led her down the narrow corridor to where the ghost-born woman was being held.

The cell door creaked open, and there she was—motionless, sitting on her knees with an eerie, unnatural stillness. For a moment, Signe thought she was looking at a corpse. The woman’s body was so still that not even the faint rise and fall of her chest betrayed any sign of life. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the dim flarestone light, and her scarlet eye somehow cold despite their ruby glow unblinking tracked Signe’s every movement as she approached.

The woman wasn’t a threat, but it was still unsettling to be in the presence of one of their kind in such a confined space. Her mind quickly reminded her: the ghost-born are living beings, just like demons. Odd, perhaps, but alive. No matter the situation she needed to get information about the attack and she claimed to have more information.

“Hello, my name is Royal Hand Signe Jet. Firstly, I would like to ask you for your name.”

She bowed her head slightly. “Ah, hello, Lady Jet. My name is Tsukihana Fuyumi. Please, forgive my… um, not knowing your customs.” She said with some hesitation as if trying the words she was saying for the first time. “If I say or do something… rude? Uncouth? It is not, uh, on purpose or with bad meaning—just because I don’t know.”

Signe could tell by her accent that she was not used to speaking Valish. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as she lifted her head and returned to an unnatural stillness.

“It is nice to meet you. I would like to discuss what you know of our enemies. First, can I take you somewhere more suitable for our discussion?”

“I will follow you, but I am not sure how… helpful?” Fuyumi stated in an even tone. “My information will be soon. It looks like the… uh, bad people? The hostile ones have already… made their move.”

“What do you mean?” Signe said in a sharp tone.

Fuyumi stood up and despite the grimy floor her white form and clothes were unblemished. “Ah, they are… um, using chi no mahō… uh, soil energy movement? They… dig under us, like…” She animatedly does wide digging gestures with her hands, motioning downward. “I don’t know the word in Valish. The ones who do… mahō—ah, magic!—they are making tunnels to attack from below.”

Signe’s eyes widened as she pieced together what Fuyumi was trying to say. They are digging through the ground? That shouldn’t be possible; the enchantments they have on the border should prevent digging through the mountain. Signe walked to the nearest wall and placed a hand on it. She pulsed her mana through the stone and felt the enchantment echo back to her. Thousands of individual enchantments connected through a network of mana crystals each of which provided a host of protection or at least it should.

The toxin is not just affecting us. They are poisoning the defensive enchantment. They would have had to known what the defensive enchantment spellform to do something like this it should be impossible unless… fuck! The Nazem sank that low? That idiot give access to the enchantments to the fucking druids; the entire border is compromised.

“Thank you Fuyumi, you are free to go.” Signe said as she rushed out of the door. “Warden, she is not a prisoner let her go.”

“Wait. I am… a warrior, but I don’t know how to say… um, that we will fight together?” Fuyumi said.

“Not your fight, Fuyumi.” Signe said.

“I am mercenary to prove my battle prowess.” Fuyumi said.

Signe didn’t stop walking. “Fine, follow me, I won’t say no to more warriors right now.”

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