Libriohexer: A Completionist Chronicles Series (Wolfman Warlock Book 2), page 13
Concentrating, Sam opened his mana channels and carefully invoked the spell to enchant two of his most trusty Quills with the Auto-Writing Spell.
“Copy-Paste,” he whispered under his breath as energy poured out from his core, bringing the two quills to life. He watched with wonder as they floated in the air. He moved his quill, and they responded in perfect sync. It might not have been big ‘kablooie’ magic, but it was very impressive in its own right. He lined up several sheets of parchment and performed the Transcription Twinning spell, binding one to another to another to another. In a matter of seconds, all of the pages were twinned and laid out in a neat grid before him.
Sam took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and carefully put nib to parchment, writing out the simple instructions to create a Shuriken, then enhancing it with a fireball spell inscription. The motions were second nature—he’d written this spell a thousand times, at the very least—but the process was far more taxing on his core, since all twelve sheets were quickly covered in the same spell form. Overall, though, the results were nearly miraculous. He could normally produce a sheet a minute, and he’d just somehow managed to produce twelve in the same span. This was going to change everything, especially as he got more comfortable with the process.
Popping his neck and cracking his knuckles, Sam straightened his back, cleared his mind from distractions, and set to work in earnest. His hands moved with a will of their own, guided by muscle memory as he flew through spell preparation. First, he focused on his Papier-Mache Mage, effortlessly tracing out the sacred geometry, inking the simple Spell Form onto the page, then sewing the loose sheaves together using a modified longstitch bookbinding technique. Refilling that tome normally took him close to an hour, but this time around, he’d managed the task in ten minutes.
Grinning from ear to ear, Sam moved from project to project, working on autopilot while he thought. The time raced by, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes stretching into hours, while he fully replenished his dwindling stores. He took a short break after three hours of steady work to stretch sore muscles and grab a quick bite to eat. Nothing fancy, just a little dried jerky and day-old bread, but it filled the void in his belly. While he munched, Bill shared his findings, which, interestingly enough, also had to do with food.
“Fine,” Bill admitted as Sam snacked, “I’ll concede that maybe, maybe, there’s some merit to this crazy idea of yours than I originally thought.”
Apparently, Chicken Farming had some deep, deep roots stretching all the way back to the founding of Ardania. Turned out, as humble a profession as it may have seemed on the surface, Chicken Farming was actually big business. Sam’s hunch had been right; it was possible to produce animals with magical properties, and the big secret lay in their diet. What the animals ate mattered. A lot. If they were fed with rare ingredients or mana-fortified foods, they could breed genetic hybrids that mimicked those same abilities. The process worked on cows and pigs—on any animal, really—but big farm stock took a long time to raise and a lot of space to do it.
Not chickens… which made them one of the most valuable resources in the human Kingdom.
According to some old economic surveys Bill had pulled up, poultry and eggs made up over sixty percent of the protein the citizens of Ardania consumed. Even more staggering, a whopping eighty percent of mana-infused meats consisted of chicken and chicken byproducts. Bill had to concede that, based on the figures alone—even if the surveys were years out of date—Sam might have stumbled onto a very lucrative venture. It would be work, but they might just be able to get the resources they needed for the Interspatial Library and turn a very tidy profit while they were at it.
His initial objections finally quelled, Bill dove back into his research while Sam settled in for another few hours of crafting. He’d refilled all of his tomes—save for his Rorschach Test, which still only had a single charge—when Velkan slipped into the room on soundless feet with a much louder Finn in tow.
“Divine above, but this place is bloody brilliant!” Finn marveled, gazing around the Husbandry Pen. He spun in a slow circle, mouth agape. “I can’t believe this all belongs to us.”
“Not yet, it doesn’t.” Sam stood and dusted his palms on his pants. “So far, we only have the Barracks and this area unlocked, but it’s a lot better than our old yurt. Especially the baths.”
“Praise be that we won’t have to use that old wooden tub anymore,” Finn agreed with a shudder. “Of all the things I miss about home, the indoor bathing and the gourmet food tops the list.”
“No luck with the food yet, but that’s only a matter of time. According to my Dungeon Compendium, the Irondowns do have a kitchen, and if it's half as nice as the barracks, we should be able to find a chef in no time. But enough about this place;” Sam waved away Finn’s curiosity, “how was the trip into the city? Where’s Sphinx? Any problems?”
“Good, overall,” the hawkish boy replied. “Our dearest Sphinx has run off to those Totem Training Grounds to report into Dizzy, but I thought I’d linger around here for a bit. As for trouble, not so much as a whiff. The Mage’s College is still on high alert, but it seems as though some of the heat has died off with Octavius gone. That struck me as odd, to say the least, so Sphinx and I did a little poking around. Apparently, the College very much does not want to advertise the fact that they lost one of their most promising students to a rogue Warlock. Especially not a Warlock who raided their Library, stole a tome of incredible power-”
“Oh, go on, you,” Bill coquettishly purred.
“-and thumbed their nose at the whole of the College. It’s a bad look for them, and you know how Nobles are about maintaining appearances. So, they are looking, but quietly; they’re even suppressing the news where they can. Even better, from what Sphinx and I were able to gather, you and I aren’t the only Warlocks on the College’s radar. They just started a city-wide manhunt for someone named Joe. Guy’s making serious waves, and much of their focus has shifted to him, especially since it seems that he’s still hiding out somewhere in Ardania. A wonderful break for us, I must say. With some of the pressure off, Sphinx and I were able to slip into many of my former haunts and reach out to a few of Sphinx’s contacts within the Upright Men.”
Sam had many questions, but decided to start with what he needed. “Did you find out anything about the LAW?” .
“So glad that you asked, because the answer is a resounding yes.” Finn reached into his robes and fished out a small leather diary, worn from hard use. “Ta-da! This belonged to Octavius. Part of the reason we were having such a difficult time understanding his blueprints is because they are encrypted.”
“Huh, makes total sense.” Bill peered eagerly at the book being waved about. “Mages are constantly trying to poach ideas or advancements from each other. It’s a dog-eat-dog world inside the halls of Academia, and that whole bunch would stab their own mothers in the back if it meant making a discovery that might help them climb the hierarchical ladder and get a shot at a tenured position. Even back in my day, we’d code our work to ensure no one else could get their greasy little fingers on breakthroughs that didn’t belong to them.”
“Precisely.” Finn nodded in vigorous agreement. “Many of the core principles detailed on the blueprints are coded, but this is Octavius’s personal journal. One of Sphinx’s thiefly contacts managed to smuggle it out of his room at the College. It seems the key to deciphering the blueprints is located in a book called Magical Theory of Sympathetic Magic: Mastering the Arcane Forces of Spell Twinning.”
Sam instantly recalled the thick volume. During his time at the College, he’d spent what felt like endless nights holding a flickering candle for Octavius while the older student had pored over the book’s dusty pages.
“Since you destroyed Octavius’ Grimoire during our fight with him, we’ll need a copy of that particular tome to understand the spell forms necessary to link the towers once we have them built. But we’ll also need a copy to unlock the blueprints themselves. Smuggling one out of the Infinity Athenaeum seems like an unlikely option, especially since the book may have been destroyed along with Octavius’ Grimoire, but through my contact network, I’ve found that another copy of the work exists.”
“One of the public libraries run by the Scholars?” Bill wondered loudly.
“Right on the head, good Sir Book.” Finn glanced at the floating book with a hint of respect in his gaze. “Getting to the volume won’t be easy, but with a little help, I think it should be possible. Don’t suppose you’d care to join me on a little jaunt into the city?”
Sam see-sawed his head from one side to the other. It was still early in the day, and Dizzy and the others would likely be gone for several more hours at least. He quickly checked the countdown timer on his Prime Brood Egg and realized that he had a little more than fifteen hours remaining until it hatched. If Finn’s suspicions were right, they would need a copy of this book, and Sam’s spells were mostly restocked, so now was as good a time as any to head back into the human capital. Besides, he wanted to pick up some gourmet ingredients for his chicken, and Ardania was the best place to do so.
“What have we got to lose?” Sam finally replied with a lopsided shrug. “Let me just tell Dizzy and the others what we’re up to.”
With a magician’s flourish, Sam pulled a single sheet of parchment from his Flask. He dashed off a quick note:
Dizz, off to the city with Finn. Will be back tomorrow. Also, got a new spell, in case you were wondering.
He leaned over and whispered the activation word into the sheet. Finn watched, confusion dancing across his face for a moment. That confusion morphed into wonder as the sheet of parchment in Sam’s hands lifted into the air and promptly folded itself into a delicate paper bird that took wing and darted from the room in a flash.
“A few new upgrades,” Sam informed him with a playful wink.
Chapter Fourteen
The eastern city gates rose up like towering sentinels, standing guard over the shining jewel of humanity, Ardania. The gates were enormous things, easily large enough to accommodate a swarm of T-Rexes, and the connecting walls loomed forty-feet tall with wide ramparts. Conical-helmeted guards, carrying hooked halberds and oversized long bows, patrolled the upper walks. It was an intimidating display and a reminder of exactly how much work the Wolfmen had to do if they were going to win the war against humanity.
Sam was glad he’d abandoned the Mage’s College and joined with the People instead, but there was no question they were the weaker force. Sometimes, Sam begrudgingly admitted to himself that he missed the splendor and convenience of the city. No walls to scale. No threats from the wild constantly breathing down his neck. Regular indoor plumbing.
The city guards manning the gates watched the ebb and flow of traffic as players trickled back into the city after a long day of grinding and adventuring. It was an hour to nightfall, the sun already falling low against the horizon, so the majority of the traffic was headed in, not out. For most players—other than those aligned with the Wolfmen—a night spent outside the walls was the next closest thing to a death sentence. Sam and Finn didn’t talk as they watched the lead sentry, a heavy-set man with thinning hair and bags under his eyes, wave people inside with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t bother to ask any questions or even look too closely at who was passing through.
Still, Sam held his breath, hoping the sweat running down his forehead wouldn’t give him away.
Turned out that Bill was correct. The guard’s sleepy eyes rested a moment longer on Sam and Finn than they had on some of the others, but then he sniffed, yawned, and motioned them through anyway.
“See, I told you,” Finn whispered as they passed beneath the portcullis, “the heat has cooled down significantly. It’s still best if we mind our Ps and Qs—don’t want to attract any undue suspicion if we can avoid it—but as long as we keep our noses clean, we should be golden.”
Sam felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders as they effortlessly slipped into the crowd, quickly lost in a sea of faces. They stuck to the warren of side streets and back alleyways, where guards were less likely to patrol and where Mages from the College would never be caught dead. Not that it was the bad part of town. The cobblestones underfoot were worn from the passing of countless feet, true, but the quaint wooden shops were well-maintained, their wooden shutters thrown wide in welcome, and the peaked roofs were covered with thick thatch or wood-slatted tiles.
The whole place was alive with the hustle and bustle of folk moving about their daily routines, picking up bolts of cloth from the tailor or visiting the local butcher or blacksmith. The air was fragrant with the smell of humanity, and the air buzzed with the noise of business. A hammer fell on metal in the distance, while street hawkers lingered in open alleyways, crying their wares at passersby.
“Refurbished weapons for sale! Guaranteed to keep you safe against even the deadliest opponents.” That seemed like a rather dubious claim, since he was missing one eye and more than one limb. The grizzled vet had a few remaining wisps of silver hair wafting above skin like old shoe leather, and the poor fellow looked like he’d lost a fight with a woodchipper. “Limited warranties available with a purchase of five items or more!”
Sam smiled politely at the vendor but kept right on moving.
“Get yer meat skewer, here. Genuine Bunny meat—no rat at all,” bellowed another industrious seller, this one a whip-thin man wearing a tunic heavily stained with grease and dirt.
“That vendor doth protest too much, methinks,” Finn muttered, giving the dubious little merchant a wide berth.
Sam had to agree, but the encounter reminded him of the ulterior motive behind his quest. He needed to pick up ingredients for his soon-to-be hatched Chicken Matriarch. Long term, she was going to be his proverbial golden goose, but he needed alchemic ingredients first. That could be a wee bit of a problem, since his operational funds were running thin around the edges. He’d started off the game with fifty thousand dollars sitting in the bank, but thanks to the ridiculous price gouging at the College, he’d burned through nearly all of that by the time he’d finally cut ties with the greedy Mages.
His Coreless Spell Infusion ability allowed him to mass produce spell scrolls, which could be sold for a pretty penny, but even that was an iffy proposition. The College tightly regulated magic, and selling scrolls as a Warlock was an easy way to get flagged by the College. So, they’d had to dole the spells out a little bit at a time in order to stay under the radar. As a result, Sam had just under five hundred gold to his name, the real-world equivalent of five thousand dollars. He figured he’d have to spend most of that to get the ingredients he needed, but if his dad had taught him anything, it was that in business, you had to spend money in a profitable way to make more of it.
“Speaking of food,” Sam pulled the group’s attention back onto himself as he stole a sidelong glance at Finn, “before we head over to the library, I was hoping we could swing by an alchemist. Know anyone who has reasonable prices on bulk items and will deal with us?”
Finn stroked his chin for a moment. “Most of the alchemists worth their salt are sanctioned and licensed by the College—especially the ones who deal with bulk item orders. Given our status, we likely only have two options. One-” He thrust a finger into the air, “we can go with an unlicensed alchemist. But if we do that, the chances of getting fleeced are incredibly high, as there’s no guarantee you’ll even get what you pay for. There’s a reason unlicensed Alchemists are unlicensed. Option number two is the better bet. Deal with the Upright Men. You’ll get what you want, but the tradeoff is that it’ll cost you double what it would to purchase from a legitimate supplier.”
Sam frowned. He didn’t like the sound of either of those options. Finn noticed the expression. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you hoping to concoct, hmm? If it’s some sort of potion, there might be off-brand bulk ingredients we could substitute. The Wolfmen may not be quite as sophisticated in some of their alchemic sciences, but they have some wonderful naturalistic alternatives.”
“No, nothing like that.” Sam edged around a portly woman wearing an enormous puffy skirt. He winced as he explained, waiting for Finn to mock him just like everyone else had. “I want enhanced ingredients to feed my new chickens.”
“Feedstock, is it? Well, that simplifies things considerably! But ingredients aren’t the way to go.” Finn visibly brightened, then frowned and shook his head. “Oh, no. Aside from being absurdly hard to get, pure ingredients will cost so much more, because they can be used in a thousand different ways. If this is about diet, we should just focus on magically infused foods.”
“Wait, what?” Sam stopped abruptly. “Magically infused foods? I’ve never heard of such a thing. I don’t understand. Are they like potions or something?”
“Sort of like potions,” Finn nodded vigorously, “and also, no, not at all like potions. Frankly, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of them. They are easier to acquire than bushels of pure alchemic ingredients, but they aren’t cheap. Cheaper, maybe, but it’s a sliding scale. Besides, the types of establishments that serve the kind of food that you’re looking for only cater to the very upper crust of human society.”
“Oh! You’ll see. I know just the place.” He grabbed Sam by the sleeve and pulled him into a connecting side street, guiding them like a bloodhound with a scent in his nose toward North Waterside, one of the wealthiest districts in Ardania.
