Chương 63: Helsing Alchemy House

Rowan Rowan hadn't been to the city since his duel with Barrett Fross. He'd been too busy recovering and cultivating. But in that short period of time, the city had changed dramatically. The streets were far busier than usual, and everywhere he looked, he saw people wearing clothes in foreign colors and cuts. So far, around half the sects had arrived.

Halfmoon House, Soul Shear Valley, Ancient Dynasty Tower, Blackscale Sect, and also Myriad Winds Manor, a smaller, fairly new sect which had joined the Earthly Harmony Alliance within his lifetime. Only Blackscale Sect and Myriad Winds Manor were staying on Righteous Mountain for the tournament so far. The other three larger sects had brought their own accommodations. Every inn they passed by had a large sign on their door." Full. No more vacancies."

"This tournament is going to be great for the economy," said Lavinia.

"I don't know about that," muttered Ash under his breath. Rowan followed his gaze, watching as two disciples wearing the black and purple robes of Soul Shear Valley and two disciples in the light green of Ancient Dynasty Tower began to argue loudly. They seemed to be outer disciples of their respective sects. The shopkeeper of the store in front of them didn't even bother to exchange words with them, he simply fled for his life. The disciples from the visiting sects began fighting in earnest soon after.

Rowan dodged a particularly large table leg, realizing he should probably do something about it, but in seconds, a group of inner disciples from Righteous Mountain had arrived.

"What the hell is going on here?" one of Rowan's senior brothers boomed.

"We shouldn't get into this," said Ash, dragging the pair of them along the street.

"We still have to go to the pill shop." Rowan wanted to see what would happen, but Ash was right. They had places to be. The side street where Helsing Alchemy House was located bustled with a large crowd. The store had wide windows and wide double doors that were being held open by two large rocks. An inner disciple of Righteous Mountain was stationed outside the doors like a guard. He nodded to Rowan as they passed by him. Ash strolled inside as though he were a prince returning to his domain.

Lavinia scanned the shelves of pills and elixirs with barely disguised awe and hunger.

"Is that a Returning-to-Ocean Draught?" Lavinia whispered, pointing at a little sapphire vial behind a display case. Around them, disciples carried armfuls of spirit herbs and pills, and Rowan heard the sound of dozens of spirit stones clacking on the counter as they paid for them all. Rowan numbly followed a trail of Wood qi to a bronze box holding a fifty year ginseng. Then he looked at the bronze boxes around it. The shop was selling not one, not five, but a dozen of them.

Right beside the display was a jar of younger ginseng roots preserved in Yin Lily Nectar. The preserved roots were fifty taels apiece. The fifty year ginseng didn't have a listed price, just a note that said 'inquire with clerk'. The sight of the sheer wealth in the shop made Rowan's blood burn hot in his veins. This shop belonged to him. The deed was in his name. Even though it was no longer a shop that sold imported dresses, it was still his.

And not a single tael of the profits had ever found its way into his pockets. It should be him strutting through the pill shop like he owned the place - which he did! - not Ash. Rowan smoothed out the tightness which had taken over his expression. He tried not to remember the way Ash had spent a small fortune on a banquet back in Deepwhale Pier, or the countless pills Uncle Bael had sent him, or the fat sapphire gleaming in his hair crown.

If Rowan had possessed even a sliver of that wealth, would he have had to sell nearly all of his meager belongings for spirit stones to form his Qi Sea? Even now, he practically owned nothing. When the servants had brought his luggage to the Jewelbox Pavilion, there had only been that one chest. And a stack of drawings. His gaze traveled along the bubbling cauldrons and the sparkling phials. Wooden cases lined with velvet, each securing a single valuable pill. This should all be his.

Not Uncle Bael's - not Ash's - his. Ash didn't seem to notice Rowan's frustration. He was playing every inch of the arrogant young master. He gave a barrel full of Firebat Eyes a critical sniff.

"Rowan," Ash called out imperiously.

"I don't think these are any good."

"Whatever do you mean by that, Young Lord Helsing?" The simpering voice of Wynan Coury wheezed past the dozens of heads bent over dried Sunscallops and Distant Earth Mushrooms. Rowan glowered at the mortal. The man had deeply insulted his parents at the auction house. If Lee hadn't intervened… The man sidled up to Ash Helsing and put his arm over the man's shoulder.

"Young Lord, you know that sort of talk is bad for business," he said, with no volume control.

"After all, you of all people know that we've saved the best for you on the second floor."

"I'm looking for materials for my brother's cultivation, not my own," said Ash primly.

"For Young Master Rowan?" Coury gave Rowan a nasty glare over Ash's shoulder. Lavinia rolled her eyes at the man on his behalf. It seemed she didn't like the shopkeeper much either. The girl hadn't been around when the man had badmouthed both Rowan's family and her own, but Rowan was sure Auctioneer Bruschard made her daughter aware of potential enemies.

"Well," continued Coury, "I would have to ask your father if we can pass along any pills to your cousin. I'm sure they would have to be heavily subsidized."

"What do you know about Helsing pill subsidies? You're not even a cultivator," Rowan said flatly. Ash's head whipped around." Brother," he chastised, a hiss under his breath.

"There's no reason to be rude- I understand you feel aggrieved for not receiving-" If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Ash sighed. More people wearing the dark Helsing reds had arrived. Rowan recognized some of them. Two older men from the generation above his father's, and three or four cousins a few years older than Rowan.

Great Uncle Borago - the one with a long, trailing gray beard - was in the second layer of Qi Condensation, while the rest of the Helsings were mortals - or might as well have been"You've returned, Ash!" greeted Uncle Borago.

"Ash! Uncle Bael mentioned you were back in the city for the tournament," said a cousin.

"Good to see you, uncle," crowed Ash happily.

"You as well, Hyssop." Rowan crossed his arms.

"Say, Mister Coury…" He gave a critical stare to the single golden pill in a display case embedded into the wall under the inscription for Helsing Alchemy.

"Isn't that a Four Corners Mandrake Pill?"

"Young Master has a good eye!" said Coury.

"Strange, I didn't know we had an alchemist who could produce such a temperamental pill."

"It wasn't a huge matter. That pill becomes much easier to produce with droplets of Typhoon Sea Crab blood, a beast from faraway shores. We had a lot of vials of blood to work with, given Pyrus-""I see, so this is what was produced with my inheritance when it was taken from me."" Rowan!" Ash muttered sharply.

"That's out of line. We can talk about this later-""Little Rowan, that is completely unreasonable. Your father left those materials for the benefit of the house-" started Borago Helsing, incensed.

"Funny, I haven't seen many of those benefits!" said Rowan.

"I hope the pill sells," he spat, storming out of the shop. Rowan went down the street, not even attempting to cool the anger coursing through his veins. He felt Lavinia trying to follow him. With a sharp turn, he went down an alley, and felt her qi as she floundered, suddenly unable to see him. He aimlessly stomped through the Sect District, trying to find a single street without a Helsing property on it.

"Jenne, hurry up. The cooking needs to be on the table before my mother gets here," a deep voice demanded. Rowan's ears pricked. Jenne? His eyes unerringly found the voice in the crowded neighborhood. Two streets away, Rowan saw a girl about his age. She was being roughly hauled off by a man in his thirties. He was so large he dwarfed her. It could be a coincidence, but wasn't Jenne the name of the pancake vendor's missing daughter?

She was thin and gangly - just like the portrait her mother had drawn - but a few years older than the drawing had suggested. What struck him was her resemblance to her mother. The wide nose, the freckles. The way the sides of her hair framed her face. His eyes went to the simple jade earrings she wore, hung in gold. A marriage gift? She was at an acceptable age… He couldn't believe he stumbled across her in the city purely by chance.

Although, with his advanced hearing, it was less coincidental, as he could still hear Ash talking to his uncles at the Helsing Alchemy House. Rowan slunk behind the pair, following them to see where they were going. He hoped this wasn't a Clodde Bastin situation, but he knew better than to assume. If it was, the man seemed easy enough to take down. He had a malformed Qi Sea, his qi only emanating from the right side of his body instead of evenly. The walk wasn't long.

The man lived in a small house in the Sect District. Nicer than most homes in Righteous Mountain City, but for the location, Rowan knew the true value was in the land the house was sitting on. He walked through the little garden slowly. There weren't any snakes around.

"Lord Cultivator, how can I help you?" called the man from the porch, trembling. His teeth were the dark gray of those who practiced the Iron Teeth Sutra. Standing behind him was Jenne, peeking over his shoulder. Her fingers were pressed against his robes, pushing the fabric into the man's elbow.

"Who is that girl to you?" Rowan asked.

"This is my wife, Lord Cultivator," said the man. There was a weathered bravery on his face. He seemed proud. Jenne hid her face behind the man. Rowan realized suddenly what this looked like. There were so many stories bandied around by mortals, of cultivators taking a fancy to pretty girls and murdering their entire families. He remembered Dalia's reaction to him, and the reaction of the other orphan girls. Rowan tipped his head the slightest amount.

"I meant no disrespect, Mister…?"

"Lagorio." There was a marked relief on the man's face. He bowed deeply. Rowan examined the man. He appeared to be a merchant of some sort. There was no trace of hard labor in the man's hands, and while he wasn't fat, he looked well-fed. The man wore a small, stately piece of pale jade on a cloth necklace. The jade was the same shade as the girl's earrings.

"Is your name Jenne?" Rowan asked the girl, trying to look past the large man. The girl peeked over Mister Lagorio's shoulder.

"Who's asking?" The man clamped a hand over the girl's mouth and bowed frantically.

"Honorable-""Your mother's looking for you," said Rowan, tired of all the pomp and circumstance of mortals speaking to cultivators.

"She thinks you're dead in a ditch. Will you come with me to explain yourself to her?"

"My mother's dead," the girl said fiercely.

"She is not," said Rowan, emphasizing each word.

"She sells pancakes in front of my sect's Eastern Gate."

"She's n-not my family anymore," Jenne declared. She stepped out from behind the man to stamp her feet on the ground.

"This is where I live. I am Mrs. Lagorio. My husband treats me very well, and I love him very much." When Rowan seemed unmoved, Jenne's attitude swapped.

"Don't tell my mother I'm here!" Jenne cried sharply, as vicious as a descending vulture.

"I won't go back to living in that little shack. I won't go back to hawking pancakes on the street. I won't go back to taking care of that woman's three children for her. She only loves Estelle anyway. If you make me go back, I will take Murkroot Poison." Rowan reeled from her explosive statements. This girl had a kind, loving mother waiting for her, and she would rather die than speak to her again? Did she even know what she was saying?

Did she even understand what lengths someone like Rowan would go to just to see his mother's face one last time? How could she throw her family away?

"You cannot speak this way!" protested the man, his hand flexing. He looked at Rowan apologetically.

"I'm so sorry. She grew up humbly. She doesn't know how to address her betters." The girl didn't have any visible bruises, but Rowan had seen the way the man had grabbed her on the street. Also - why did a merchant of some wealth end up marrying a street urchin? The answer was simple. A girl without roots would have no one asking too many questions on her behalf. There was no room for him to intervene as a sect cultivator. In all honesty, there wasn't even any proof of wrongdoing. Jenne glared at Rowan.

"You won't tell my mother about me. About my marriage." The words bubbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"I hope you live a happy life, and have your own daughters," Rowan whispered, unsure of what he was even saying, "And I hope they, too, will leave you behind for greener pastures." He turned and left the garden, counting the beads of his mother's rosary. Though he'd found Jenne, there were still all the other girls missing. Girls that probably didn't want to be missing. He had their portraits, carrying them in his sleeves wherever he went. No one had seen them.

If he wasn't a cultivator, he doubted any of them would have even stopped to look at them. He just felt so useless - he lacked any new leads. And he'd been so busy lately. Recovering from dueling Barrett, preparing for the tournament, his cousin… When he had a moment to spare, he vowed he would investigate some more.