Alchimia Rex

Rick stood at the city wall, eyes lingering on the forest in the distance, his mind a storm of thoughts. The sky almost seemed to mimic his mood, with clouds growing and darkening overhead.

There was a threat of rain lingering in the air.

Despite how peaceful it all looked, they were under attack. The assault had been taking place before he'd taken over the tiny city.

Their enemy had either found or created a bizarre parasitic plant that could infect maidens. The infected ferals had demonstrated suicidal levels of relentless aggression, and by all accounts, the Archangel they’d met in the library appeared to be the pinnacle of the process.

Attempting to wrap his head around it all felt… daunting.

They'd utilized the ferals to isolate Sinco from the rest of the kingdom with an artificial feral rush. The same rush served the dual purpose of acting like a siege on the city, cutting them off from their own farms.

By all accounts, it should have been a certain victory.

"They only made it infectious afterwards."

It made sense, in a way. They needed the city weakened, but standing. That's where the Vampires fit into the equation, sabotaging it from within. However, Rick had thrown a wrench in those plans by virtue of stumbling face-first into it.

"They killed the healers." His hands gripped the stone wall with white knuckles, gazing at the newly budding farms. "They assumed we wouldn't take precautions against an infection..."

They’d been forced to alter their strategy, possibly devising a way to deal with the infection before the entire city turned into a useless pile of rubble. How that would work, he didn’t have a clue.

Their second failure.

The feeling burned in his gut as if he'd swallowed a red-hot ball of lead.

"And now they've tried to assassinate us." Slowly, he turned to face Dia, the Rapha who had donned the brown and white dress of a healer, salvaged from the lord's manor. "Please tell me they failed."

Her smile was genuine, yet bitter. “Monica and Kiara are stable, but they won't wake.”

He leveled his gaze with hers. “I need more than that.”

“Without more information, I can't-”

“Then make an educated guess.”

Dia clenched her fists and nodded, swallowing. “Assuming the strain found in the ferals and in Monica is the same, the plant consumes elemental energy to grow… and if threatened, it will do so explosively.” She took a shaky breath. “To the best of my knowledge, Monica was infected two, maybe three days before we found her. It planted itself next to her metacarpal and grew from there. When she sensed it, she tried to rip it out. And the plant… reacted.”

“It knocked her out?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Even now, it’s pumping small amounts of adrenaline into her system. I suspect Monica realized it needed her energy to grow and put herself in a state close to hibernation to slow its progress.”

Rick took a long, shuddering breath. “What about you? Or the others? Is anyone else infected?”

The healer shook her head. “Eva, Kiara, and I were the only ones infected. Fortunately, it seems to take a few days before it can attune to the victim’s energy. We had it safely removed.”

“A damn Succubus plant.” He wanted to laugh. “The crops?”

“I've been checking the farm’s output regularly since the feral attack.”

That was a relief, but he could sense the tension in Dia. “Can it be removed from Monica?”

“Not easily.”

Of course, otherwise she’d have brought the good news by now. “Explain.”

“The vines haven't reached any vital organs, but they’ve embedded themselves into her arms muscles in a way that is… uncomfortably similar to how nerves would. I fear the plant might have control over Monica’s arms while she’s unconscious.” She visibly shuddered at the proclamation. “Assuming the vines will attempt to protect themselves if threatened…”

That seemed like a recipe for a massacre.

"Formulate a plan, prepare for the worst."

"Yes, sir," she declared with a determined nod.

"And Kiara?"

The determination faltered. "Physically, she's been healed, but she's a Succubus. In many ways, her biology is closer to an elemental stone than a living being. There's only so much that can be done through standard healing." She stepped closer, reaching out and grasping his hand with her own. "She will be fine given time, but... Rick, you cannot shoulder this on your own."

His breath hitched, head snapping to look at her as his body coiled and stiffened. He realized his hands were shaking, grip so tight his whole arms ached, jaw clenched tightly enough that the pain traveled all the way to the crown of his head. "I should have realized what was happening sooner."

She tightened her grip in response. "Please."

Her plea was soft, using her other hand to draw him nearer.

Her movements were so gentle, akin to handling glass. All because she possessed the strength to break his bones with a simple strike.

Rick took a long, trembling breath, nodding. "You're right," he conceded, inhaling and exhaling slowly. "I..." His eyes were caught in her purple gaze, the maiden eliminating the space between them. "I detest this feeling of being... powerless."

Dia made a sound of agreement and embraced him, resting her head against his chest and squeezing as if attempting to expel all bad things. She had also discovered how to utilize the bond in some manner, and was conveying her feelings through it as best as she could. Concern mingled with warmth and affection, the emotions heaped onto him like a pile of oversized, warm blankets.

His effort to escape was destined to fail; the only thing he could do was succumb to it and reciprocate the embrace, pressing his cheek against the crown of her head.

"I've been learning how to fight," she whispered. "I thought it would help, that…" Her voice caught in her throat. "When that… that THING showed up, she said she'd rip you limb by limb, flay you alive, do so many horrible, horrible things." She squeezed. "No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even wound her. All I could think was that I was thankful you weren't there, that the others would get you out and escape, that… that…"

Her body shuddered, and he remained there, embracing her.

"Dia-"

She was trembling now, shaking like a leaf.

"Why did you come for me?" she asked in a whisper, stepping away to look up at him with violet pools in her eyes.

The answer came naturally.

"Because I love you."

Dia choked. "That… that's unfair," she managed, not stopping him from pulling her back into his arms. "I'm the maiden, I… I'm the one who's supposed to rescue you."

He chuckled softly. "You've done that so many times; I had to repay you somehow."

The healer softly nudged him away, drying the corner of her eyes as she turned to look at the forest near the horizon. "I was ten winters old when I experienced my first feral rush. I'd been learning a bit about healing, but not enough to help. There were so many injured maidens that wouldn't make it…"

He frowned. "You were a child."

"The only thing I could do was stand by them, give them comfort in their final moments," she whispered. "Do you know what their last words would be?"

Rick shook his head. "Can't say I do."

"’Did they make it’?" She turned to look at him, purple eyes glimmering. "It was the one thing that would consume them in that final moment, concern for their human." She took a shuddering breath. "That is what it means to be a maiden," she said. "Urtha and Eva are maidens, and…" She hesitated, grimacing as if having tasted something bitter. "… and I cannot deny Kiara is every bit a maiden too."

"Dia…"

"I refuse to outlive you." Her shoulders straightened, jaw clenched, her chest filled with pride. They locked gazes; she was challenging him to deny her. He knew she wouldn't falter in this; determination shone out of her like the sun.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" He asked.

The Rapha's features softened. "Your human best."

His fists clenched. "And if it's not enough?"

She smiled, taking his hands again, voice shaking with emotion. "No matter what the result may be, I am and will always be proud to be bonded to you." Bowing low, she pulled slightly, kissing his wrist, calming herself with a slow breath. "My Lord."

His breath hitched, feet rooted to the spot as the healer turned to leave. He watched her go, expecting the impossible weight to fall on his shoulders, to hear those damn words of the man whose authority he'd stolen through force and guile and murder.

But there was… nothing.

Just the whispering wind.

It took him a minute to catch himself, put his thoughts in order, and convince himself he couldn’t just stay there indefinitely. So he marched down the wall and towards the city. Eight Orcs spread out in a protective formation, divided into groups of two and flanking him in every direction as he moved.

Urtha was nearby, but trying to avoid him at the same time.

Rick could sense her, just at the periphery of his awareness. She bubbled with uncharacteristic uncertainty. For a three-meter-tall wall of green muscle, she was impressively sneaky. He wanted to talk to her, but he felt it would be better to give her a chance to gather her courage first.

He’d talk to her at some point though; the conversation was overdue. But there were other things that needed to be done.

For one, the assassins had escaped without a trace. Gone. The only evidence left to prove they'd been there to begin with were the half-dozen Dark Elf corpses. They couldn't have escaped through the passageway they'd used to enter, as the tribe had come in through there.

Eva was diligently investigating the mansion and its enchantments from top to bottom in search of the answer. The risk of a new attack was far too likely for them to ignore, and if the enemy had some easy way to be transported into the city, then they might as well have no walls.

The second concern was security from the threats within. The atmosphere in the city had changed after the attack; he could see far more glares than just a week ago. One of the three powerbrokers of the city had been murdered while being his guest. By default, that meant everyone in her camp resented him.

The possibility of a blood feud was real, but none made a move because there was still a singular unifying threat waiting outside the city's walls.

The most powerful fighter in the city had been left out of commission, and the Lady, his "wife," had abruptly stopped making public appearances under the pretext of illness.

It was the scent of blood.

Even if neither of the remaining power-brokers lifted a finger, the locals could very well sell him out the moment they found out that the "threat" was wildlings and not ferals. As far as anyone would be concerned, they had done exactly that once already.

His only choice was to bet on the possibility of them not doing so.

That was why he'd pressured Whitney into training the militia, and also why he'd made sure to place as many maidens bonded to him into said militia. It was no guarantee they wouldn't turn on him, but at this point, he was running on prayers and duct tape.

They swung spears and ran in small groups, conducting mock battles against imaginary opponents who outclassed them in every sense. He could sense their gazes on him, the crowd of maidens carrying an unspoken question through the bond. Their attention followed him, watchful and hesitant.

It was a simmering nervous anticipation, like someone waiting for a storm.

Rick and his escorts marched past.

Food was another problem, one that was being solved slowly. Day by day, the farms expanded thanks to the protection the tribe provided from the ferals. It was a promise kept that soon they'd have enough to stop the rationing.

In that, at least, he felt some pride that they were making progress.

Something caught his attention as he approached the house he'd been using as his home.

It was a familiar rotund man, accompanied by four other maidens.

And a box, one large enough that their whole group would have fit inside.

Rollo's expression lit up as soon as he spotted Rick, spreading his arms wide. "Ah, my Lord! So happy to see you! I feared I'd spend all day waiting, not that it wouldn't have been worth it. Your guards had refused to elaborate on where I could find you."

Rick eyed Rollo for a moment. "I'm not in the mood for pleasantries, if you don't mind. Could we cut to the chase?" He commented bluntly, watching the maidens surrounding the man stiffen and turn their attention more squarely at the Orcs.

Rollo pulled at the collar of his shirt, coughing once to clear his throat. "Certainly, my Lord. I thought it prudent to personally deliver your first request. It was a task far more complex than I'd initially thought. I can see the wisdom of-"

Request?

Rick's gaze shot to the box. "You finished the compressor." So soon? Did some equivalent already exist in this world’s heterogeneous technological mess? Or had the magic of this world made it easier? "And can it compress the required amount? Continuously?"

Rollo lit up. "Certainly! Its output is that of four hundred compressed air units, and if the container is sealed, it can compress its contents to three times that! You will need maidens to aid in its functioning, however, as-"

"You two." Rick spun to face his guards. "They will tell you how to lift this box and how to carry it. Follow their instructions to the letter; the content is not to break, bend, or be damaged in any way." He glanced at the others. "Everyone else, follow me, and Rollo, keep up."

"My Lord?" Rollo abruptly sprang to chase after Rick, stubby short legs shuffling against cobblestone as he hurried.

"Did you write down the specifications and operation of the machine?" He asked, snatching the paper out of the man's grasp and skimming over it.

He was almost running, eyes barely paying attention to the numbers and rules. Uptime, maintenance, output… the units weren't familiar to him, but Rollo had added an index of descriptions explaining what each unit meant.

Standardized, clean.

The conversion to metric was rough, but a rough estimate left him feeling confident it was possible.

A door had opened that he'd thought closed, perhaps one that might remain closed for months, even years. This world possessed magic, literal magic; there was not much need for advanced science, as their medicine alone put his world's to shame without breaking a sweat. Who needed to learn about cancer if it could be treated with a simple spell?

Formulas upon formulas crowded the forefront of his mind, desperately urging him to prioritize them, to choose them over the others. Reactants, coefficients, products, formulas.

There was so much to be done, so much that could be accomplished.

I'm waking up to ash and dust.

His heart pounded against his chest. He'd avoided the "laboratory" that had been made out for his use. Why would he want to toy with a basic chemistry set, creating pretty colored flames, when he had literal people starving to worry about?

Rick felt the urge to laugh and cry, snarl and scream, or roar.

He ran, six of the Orcs keeping pace, while the other two trailed behind carrying the machine, slowing for Rollo’s stubby flabby legs.

I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust.

They greeted the empty warehouse by pushing its heavy doors open with a bang.

It had been a building he'd requested the tribe construct for him at the city's edge, closer to the port. A spacious, tall, open-plan area with tables and chairs that had been gathering dust. There were boxes of materials he'd requested, which had also lain there, collecting dust.

Waiting.

But that would no longer be the case.

I'm breathing in the chemicals.

“You and you, move those boxes to the wall, open the space over at the edge.” He began to bark orders, turning to the other Orcs. “Call in whatever Hobgoblins of the tribe are available, we’ll need fire.”

Water, air, pressure, heat, and an iron catalyst. Mix at the exact specifications to create ammonia.

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus.

It could be used to make fertilizer, to strengthen production. But no.

They were threatening him and his.

So he would take that ammonia, react it with oxygen and a platinum-rhodium catalyst to make nitric acid. He would mix it with more ammonia to create ammonium nitrate.

And he would level buildings with a spark.

Lightning rippled overhead, the thunder following soon after. His eyes roamed the empty space, mentally checking the list of parts he had, and that he was missing.

He’d only need to test the machines until the process was fully standardized.

This is it, the apocalypse.

If this world wanted to bring war to his doorstep, if it wanted to make him choke on their powers and magic, if they wanted to come after the people he cared about…

Then he was going to show them how humans did war.