Page 3 of Roverpowered 6

Whatever the case, he was no longer wholly confident in being able to protect Wanda from whatever dangers might come their way, and that was just… unacceptable. As soon as their chance arrived, Wumble promised himself he would start truly working to get stronger.

But with no occorites aboard, he didn’t see how that was going to happen anytime soon.

The flap of tattered sails could almost be mistaken for beating wings, if one ignored the utter lack of any rhythm. It was akin to flailing wings rather than flapping ones, even as the misshapen appendages managed to keep their bodies aloft.

No two of the creatures were identical, yet all shared distinct characteristics. White-blue light glowing across bodies composed of wood, metal fixtures woven about, and wings that had once been sails. Some took a shape like that of scavenger birds or great hawks, bulged and warped to unnatural proportions. Others held closer to their original identities, approximating warped versions of bearships and bearplanes.

Except there were no passengers upon the decks or revelry to be found. Only the crackling energy of occorites as they flapped in disharmony, flying by virtue of the magic that sustained them, and the lingering enchantments upon their materials.

Until something changed.

A wooden occorite that shaped its material into something like an eagle with a pelican’s beak broke into view from around the nearby mountain, descending into the flock and zipping quickly around before flitting right back out, flying off from the direction it originally appeared.

As one, the flock followed. The scouts return meant energy had been found. New materials, new sources of occoreal, new nourishment. New capacity to grow. Toward what, none of the occorites knew, or was even capable of wondering. Not as they were. Yet an instinct pulsed within each, as it did all occorites.

Gather and grow. Gather and grow. That fundamental truth guided their every action, just as it currently guided the flock of occorites toward the bearship their scout had spotted.

FOUR

Lenar was eventually found in the mess hall, looking down with some inscrutable expression at the day’s lunch. It was a chopped and seared meat in brown gravy next to peas and an admittedly hard-looking hunk of bread. Nothing like the cuisine Wanda had been enjoying at The Grumpy Bear back in Kalamaz, but still nowhere near as bad as weeks of dried jerky and foraged herbs.

In fact, Wanda picked up a plate for herself before sitting down across from Lenar, startling him into a slight jump. “Wanda! My apologies, I didn’t see you drawing near. How are your quarters? Is Wumble finding the ship well?”

That was one of the things Wanda appreciated about Lenar: he was also so considerate in asking after Wumble. Sometimes it was almost like he was afraid to displease her familiar. Wanda chalked that impression up to her own trouble discerning social cues. Why would anyone be afraid of her sweet Wumble?

“We’re both enjoying it greatly, thank you again for asking us along.” Wanda took a bite of her own semi-stale bread chunk. Though it was indeed hard, her teeth tore right through it with ease, uncovering an enjoyable flavor beneath the toughened texture. “I was actually hoping to talk with you about alchemy, while we have the time.”

Lenar leaned so far forward that his shirt sleeve nearly dipped into the plate of gravy. “By all means. I expect such a talk would be greatly illuminating, as well as enjoyable. It has been too long since I was able to discuss the actual art of alchemy.”

“Are there no other alchemists on the bearship?”

Despite what Wanda felt fairly sure had been an innocuous question, Lenar’s mouth still tilted downward at the edges. “There are those… certified to practice the craft, though one wouldn’t know it to hear them speak. Discussions of prices, margins, cost-efficient ingredient sources… it would be fine chatter for a gathering of merchants. For a collective of alchemists, I find such topics unappealing.”

Harsh as he’d been, Lenar looked like he was still holding himself back, eyes darting around to check who else was nearby. “But on the art itself, I have no shortage of time to talk. Please, what subject inspired this interest?”

Briefly, Wanda considered trying to play it coy and subtly work her way toward her actual questions, before dismissing the idea outright. She had little confidence in such a scheme succeeding, and it felt unnecessary when Lenar was so eager to chat. Besides, this was a perfectly natural thing for any alchemist to be curious about.

“I was wondering about how one would go about making a potion whose effects were permanent.”

Once again, Lenar appeared startled, though this time he didn’t jump. “Well now, that’s not one I was expecting. Most Alchemists don’t grow curious about that topic until they’re certified to brew Grade Three potions. That’s when the recipes move beyond improved versions of healing and mana restoration potions. There are brews that enhance strength, speed, sight, even one that boosts cognitive capacity to make time appear slower. All sorts of effects people would love to make permanent.”

It took a great deal of concentration for Wanda to remain focused on the topic she’d come to learn about in the face of hearing what sorts of recipes awaited her. She wanted to dash off and find a library to study everything available in preparation for such an undertaking. As an imbuement phase wizard, Wanda should have enough mana to handle Grade Two potions… once she’d cleared things up with the Alchemists Union and gotten certified.

The extra time wasn’t necessarily all bad, though. Wanda still hadn’t gotten a chance to experiment with her new calmer mana that she’d gained after enchanting herself with Mana Mastery. That would almost certainly be something to practice before attempting any of the more advanced spells she’d need to brew Grade Three potions.

“Of course, it’s not that easy, otherwise wizards would be far more powerful on average than we are. The ingredients to make a potion permanent vary depending on what you’re brewing, but all of the known ones come from chasm tunnels. Deep ones, usually.”

Lenar paused, letting the full weight of his prior statement sink in. Any chasm town or tunnel was inherently dangerous, the ones deeper down, closer to the true chasms themselves, were exponentially harsher environments.

“Then there are the limitations of the process itself. Permanent potions are more dangerous than normal ones, where any excess magic is burned off safely. The grade has to be matched precisely to the intended wizard’s level of development. Too strong, and it can cause dangerous complications. Too weak, and the results aren’t worth the expense. Each one has to be custom made by an alchemist certified to handle Grade Eight or higher recipes.”

All of which begged the question: how did Kurlain have such a rare treasure in the first place, let alone why he would leave it hanging from the ceiling as decoration? Not to mention that if permanent potions were supposed to be tailored to the recipient, shouldn’t she be seeing some sort of adverse effects? Because based on her strength, the potion definitely hadn’t been weak.

Honestly, the whole thing was so ridiculous, it was almost more logical to think Kurlain’s potion hadn’t been what empowered her strength in the first place.

Except Wanda had thrown Kurlain through a wall after drinking it, a physical feat she’d never come close to approximating before drinking it. If the potion wasn’t the source of her newfound might, what else could it be?

Before Wanda could ask a follow-up question, an alarm blared through the mess hall, with echoes of it audible from down the hall. Moments later, a raspy voice could be heard in every room, speaking with uncompromising authority.