Chương 23: 22-A Message from Our Sponsors

"So I take Dignity was not happy," Morton said to the Losers as they shared a meal with him and his young wife in one of Babylon's two inns. Billy assented, trying to decide how to attack the mountain of meat on his dish. Just how many legs does this bloody chicken have? Billy wondered. Everyone in Babylon had classes now: The guy who bred the chicken, the one who sold it, the guy who cooked it… Probably the chicken itself was also a Shadow of the Rooster, a Poultrous Casanova, or whatever.

As a result, life was now a never-ending source of surprises in which going out for dinner was an odyssey filled with wonder and risk, and kiddies completed quests by eating their vegetables.

"That is one mild way to put it," he answered.

"We came back without the Icosahedron, but with the vague promise of future assistance of an enemy supposedly turned ally. In our defense, we had no way of forcing her to give it back. She could sweep the floor with us if she wanted."

"How did she get that strong?" asked Mel.

"She is supposed to be only level 99."

"Her strength does not come from levels, but from experience," Bob explained.

"She has lived for literally millions of lives, and she never forgets anything she learns. She is supremely experienced at everything. Everything. That includes powers, tactics, skills, situation-handling, and knowledge of both human and non-human nature."

"But how has she managed to keep alive all this time?" asked Mel. She was both grounded and perceptive.

"You are basically saying that she has gone through any situation a countless number of times. She should have died a long time ago—sooner or later, she would have found something lethal she could not escape from. It's just statistics."

"And even if she did," added Morton, "how has she kept herself sane all this time? The human mind is not designed to last for all eternity. She has not only endured—she seems quite proactive."

"Those two are very, very good questions," Jenna admitted.

"They are just two of the many mysteries that surround Dawn. For now." Mel let the topic rest before asking, "What are you planning to do now? I would love you to visit the school and meet the kids."

"They have lots of questions to ask you. I can even understand some of them."

"I am afraid we are going to have to deal with all the chores Dignity has dumped on us three," Jenna answered.

"Quick advice: If she ever sends you on an artifact-hunting dimensional quest, do not return without it." Melanie scoffed at that.

"Come on, Jenna, that is just for show, and you know it. Everything she dumps on you, she does because she needs it done, and she trusts you more than others."

"Yes, we have trustworthy faces," said Billy.

"Perhaps we should consider some facial scars. Or eyepatches." He had been hoping for some quality time with Jenna, but it was not to be.

"What exactly did she tell you to do?" Morton asked, gently shaking his roasted chicken. It spontaneously split into a mountain of wings. So that is the way they did it—they cooked it in four dimensions, thought Billy.

"We are at war, plainly and simply," Bob explained.

"The Federation has demanded the Icosahedron, which we no longer have. They also want seeds from the alchemical dungeons. Dignity refused."

"That makes sense," Jenna agreed.

"Alchemical ingredients are a huge advantage, as they basically create items that anyone can use. You do not give a huge advantage to someone who is going to use it against you."

"It is more complicated. The Mountain produces peaches of immortality that, when eaten by an Essential, grant him the Hatchery tag, allowing him to leave the dungeon. The peach basically turns him into a living dungeon seed," Bob explained.

"A living dungeon seed?" asked Mel.

"That means that if a dungeon implodes with him inside, it will be remade as an Alchemical dungeon? That is incredible!"

"That is correct. A new Secret Mountain with him as a Master," confirmed Bob.

"The situation has become more complex, though. Someone has stolen a peach and escaped the mountain. If the Federation finds out about it, they will kidnap him, take him to one of their own dungeons, and basically steal alchemy from us."

"Who could have done such a thing?" Billy said, feeling pained. The Alchemical Master dwelling at the bottom of his soul felt betrayed.

"The sect is trying to count heads, but they have always been a disorganized bunch. I don't think they know how many students they have."

"We may never know," Jenna said grimly.

"Whoever did this is a cunning and devious man. A mastermind. He will avoid being discovered. That is what any intelligent person would do. He will fade in the background." Benlas the Bard, who had been playing softly in the background, singing private petitions that allowed the clients to communicate with their relatives in other towns, suddenly stood up and announced a new song.

"And now, a message from our sponsors," he cheerily sang.

"Oh, no, please, tell me they have not rediscovered ads," Bob softly said.

"I am afraid so," Morton confirmed.

"The bards take payment to make publicity for whoever hires them. It is only five minutes every hour or so."

"Let me guess," Jenna said acidly.

"You can avoid hearing the ads by paying a little extra."

"This song is called Alchemy in Kenosha," Benlas announced. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Then he sang a song about how Paula, a distraught wizardress, came to Kenosha, looking for a little alchemical pick-me-up for her next dungeon. There, she visited Bilto's Emporium of Wonders, where she was amazed by the quality of the goods, the affordable prices, and the professionalism and warm attitude of the excellent staff, always ready to help.

The song went on to describe how the cheap but high-quality potions and tonic she bought from Bilto saved her life on her dungeon run, allowing her to gain three levels. Benlas sang the Chorus in different voices at the same time, a trick bards could magically perform. Each voice was that of a different satisfied client, condensing his marvelous experience with Bilto in one single line: … his potions slew my dragon… … his alchemy regrew my foot… … I'll name my next child Bilto… … he accepts any currency, too…

The final line merged all voices into a single verse: Bilto's Wonder Emporium, Browning Street 12, open from Monday to Saturday!

"Thank you, thank you," said the Bard, even though no one was applauding.

"Wasn't Bilto the guy who sold my watch?" Bob asked, his face pale.

"I am almost positive he was," answered Billy.

"That slimy weasel!" said Bob.

"Well, at least we know our next stop," said Jenna." Fading in the background, indeed," said Bob. He quickly focused on his beer when he noticed Jenna glaring at him.

"Isn't Kenosha part of Federation territory?" asked Mel.

"You are basically heading into enemy lines." Jenna swore, realizing Melanie was right.

"What is that idiot doing there?"

"Weren't you paying attention to the ad?" Bob answered acidly.

"He is running a business." +++"I want my money back!" Black Ramak shouted at Bilto. Bilto sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Let's take it back from the beginning. You came here two weeks ago. You wanted to pull a daring heist inside a dungeon, stealing some kind of magical treasure from the Core without him being aware of it, in tune with your dashing rogue style."

"You needed an alchemical elixir to shrink in size and enter the Core's treasure vault through the ventilation ducts, steal the magical emerald, and escape the same way you came. You performed the heist, and here you are, a very wealthy man." Bilto smiled.

"What exactly is the problem?"

"The bloody problem is that it will not wear off!" the one-foot-tall rogue screamed, in a thin, almost comical voice.

"Did you want me to sell you a defective potion?" Bilto exclaimed in outrage.

"Everything I sell is top-notch quality. Of course it won't wear off."

"Can you neutralize it?" Ramak pleaded.

"Oh, I see. Sorry, I misunderstood what this was all about," Bilto apologized.

"For a second, I thought you were complaining about the quality of your purchase. It seems not to be the case. You are a happy client coming back for a new acquisition."

"Of course I can help you," Bilto went on jovially.

"I have literally dozens of different alchemical concoctions specialized in making people grow. They are a bit pricier than your initial purchase, I must warn you. The ingredients are rarer." Ramak's face fell.

"But no worries," Bilto went on.

"We can provide all types of financial support solutions to our clients at a very reasonable interest rate." He smiled predatorily, "Now, how much did you sell the emerald for?"

"Boss, someone is here to see you," Ernest, one of the young staffers, said as he opened the door.

"Interrupting me while I am talking with a client, Ernest? Again? I am sorry, but I am going to have to dock you four hours of pay for this," Bilto said tensely.

"I already warned you."

"But boss, you have already docked all my pay for this month. I have been working for free for the last three days," Ernest answered angrily.

"Working for free?" Bilto said, shocked.

"Of course, not, Ernest. What gave you that silly notion? If I have already docked all your pay and fines keep coming, it does not mean you work for free."

"It means you owe me money."

"Fuck you, I am quitting," Ernest said angrily, taking off his apron and throwing it to the ground.

"You don't have to do that, Ernest, let's negotiate," Bilto shouted, running after him.

"I can lend you money if you can't pay me now. At a very reasonable interest rate!"

"Hold right there," three stocky men who seemed to materialize from nowhere suddenly stood between Bilto and the fleeing Ernest.

"Who is the owner of this place? Who is Bilto? We want to talk with him right now," the leader, a heavy-set man with a military bearing, told the alchemist in a no-nonsense voice. Bilto paused for an instant. These guys looked like bad news. Suddenly, inspiration struck him: "How much are you willing to pay for this information?" he asked.

"Bilto! Our conversation is not over," the midget rogue screamed shrilly as he pursued Bilto on his tiny legs, looking both cute and deadly at the same time.

"He is the one, grab him!" the leader of the trio shouted. Many things happened at the same time—Bilto belonged to the business school of thought that advocated a total rebranding, including the CEO's face and name, after operating for two years in the same zone, to maintain executive privileges, like breathing. His equivalent Avatar class was Alchemical Peddler, which fuses together the twin powers of Alchemy and commerce, and has plenty of abilities focused on escaping satisfied clients.

He closed his eyes while throwing a handful of alchemical dust into the air. It ignited, exploding in a flash of light and sound. Bilto used the momentary disorientation of his would-be kidnappers to put an alchemical pill into his mouth. Pill of Many Faces (Alchemy 2): Assume the appearance of the next person you bump into. Lasts three minutes. He ran into the crowd, and suddenly, he was no longer Bilto; he was an old lady in an ermine robe.

He/She ran at surprising speed towards the only exit, only to find it blocked by a fourth member of the squad, a woman wearing a glowing monocle.

"He is that one, he has transformed himself to look like an old lady, I can see the aura of the spell," the woman shouted, unerringly pointing at him. Damn it. Another one, and this one has magical senses. He had to do something, or he was done for. Bilto's eyes filled with tears as he became aware of the sacrifice he needed to make to escape this situation. Financial Transmutation (Trade 4): Touch any object that belongs to you and transmute it into currency worth its market value. Any legal currency can be used.

Seven Minutes Cooldown. He took his Potion of the Elevated Thought, the one brewed with the most expensive ingredients he had access to, charged it with magic, and threw it into the air. It exploded in a magical flash, raining down Federation credits on the floor. Suddenly, his pursuers could gain no ground, as the crowd fought over the money. Bilto dropped another alchemical concoction, a bloody expensive one, too. Someone was going to pay for this. He, probably. Alchemical vapors filled the hall.

When they dispersed, everyone had turned into a copy of Bilto. The monocled woman, now a Bilto, too, tried in vain to pick him among the crowd of aspirants. Twenty minutes later, Bilto escaped Kenosha, his heart heavy with grief. He had lost everything, including all the money the new Biltoes would pay to be transformed back. He lost himself in the night, thinking about who could hate him so much as to go to such extremes to detain him. Some people just did not believe in free trade.