Arc 2

Chapter 21

Lock slowly made his way down the winding streets of Abrakshana, joyfully taking it all in. No matter how much he professed that he hated the city, the humans, the smell, there was something charming about the capital of the human empire.

Probably the wide variety of pleasures one could partake in, that were to be found nowhere else, for humans at least. Although sadly he was not out for pleasure today, he was out for business. This would naturally need to be rectified later.

He eventually wandered over to the place where he needed to be, his eyes landing on the thrifty wooden sign with a tea kettle on it. A small out-of-the-way tea house in one of the cities many out-of-the-way alleys. He entered, greeted the rail thin owner, who gave him a charming grunt in return, ordered his usual, looked around for the table with the yellow handkerchief on it, and upon finding it, sat down in the purple plush armchair.

“Nice day we're having huh.” He stated more than asked at his vis-à-vis, a portly ginger with a scowl on his face.

“It would be, if you weren't forcing me to meet you out here in the open you damn brat.” Shink muttered quietly. Not that it mattered. Lock had distinctly felt the Assassin/Thief skill shroud of silence envelop him when he'd sat down.

Shink's gaze hefted on the dog tag hanging around Lock's neck. “Not much of a brat anymore though, are you. Finally got yourself registered I see. A bit late, wasn't it?”

Lock shrugged, watching the ginger's face grow red with the effort of speaking. Such a confabulated disguise, so little comfort.

“You can't just expect me to get over the death of a family member that easily,” Lock said, spreading out his arms, “I needed time to grieve, to come to terms with the departure of my dear Grandfather. A month is a comparably short time even.” He finished, sorrow tingeing his voice.

Shink snorted. “You know, I would believe that, if you hadn't come literally skipping over to me not one week after you killed the man.”

Lock pulled a face, “kill is such a strong word.” he said, tapping his fingers on the polished wooden table to a beat that he did not remember the name of.

As planned, he hadn't told anyone about what had actually happened on the day of the dungeon expedition. Everyone thought that he and Grandfather had simply been visiting fishing uncle, and that Lock had killed Grandfather in the usual experience transference ritual somewhere along the way.

The displeasure of people who did not have a family member to give them an experience jump-start... was preferable to the manhunt he would be subjected to if his killing of the Vídd became known.

“Why iron though? You're at least a bronze, if not a silver.” Shink asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I held back in the assessment, for the tournament.” Lock answered, causing Shink to sneer.

“The tournament,” He spat out, “don't tell me you're actually interested in going to the academy.”

Lock hummed. “I'm not sure yet, I'd rather have the chance open to me if I am to decide for it eventually though, but that wasn't what I called you out for today.” he said.

“And pray tell, what crumbs does the magnanimous Lock have to spare for his loyal servant on this morrow?” Shink asked, visibly incensed at being forced to leave his home for a meeting that was not at night. The man and his melodramatic love of stereotypes, really.

“The recipe of Happy Time.” Lock answered casually, making Shink freeze for a moment, before he leaned back and schooled his features.

That shut him up, thought Lock gleefully.

Their little drug business had a very clear hierarchy ever since its inception three or so years ago, and no matter what people thought, or how Lock acted, it was he... who was at the top of the pyramid. For a very simple reason mind you. He was the one who'd created the drug, and he hadn't let the recipe out of his grasp. Therefore Shink, and the few lower-ranked members of the Underground that he commanded, were entirely reliant upon him to distribute the substance.

They'd tried to get the recipe from him of course, peacefully, or he wouldn't be in business with them, but he'd always rebuked them.

The Underground had also attempted creating drugs on their own, with their numerous connections to Black Alchemists, and had succeeded, but only to a certain extent. Happy Time was still the prime substance to enjoy when one wanted a happy time.

No matter how magical Alchemy could often times appear to the outside observer, it was still a science. Since the Alchemists trying to recreate the exact manner in which he'd created the addictive substance only knew the effect of what they needed to achieve, and not how that effect was produced, they failed.

Lock didn't mean to be disparaging their efforts, there were very, very smart and unscrupulous men working to solve the issue of Happy Time's market monopoly. But they just didn't have the prerequisite knowledge of biology, hormones, synapses and other molecular processes that needed to be manipulated to create such an addicting high.

It would probably take another decade of brainstorming for them to finally match Happy Time, and that... was a problem.

The decay of humanity was happening too slowly, and with only one truly effective drug on the market, and with only one person brewing it, it would continue to do so for quite a while. He needed to give the Underground a helping hand, some inspiration to accelerate the process. With the advent of his adventuring career he wouldn't have much time to brew the damn thing anyway.

Neither supplying the drug, and not selling the recipe was a quick way of having the recipe stolen.

The suggestions he'd given Shink regarding the manner of distribution, lifted straight out of the drug empires of his previous world, not that he was an expert, should have also spread around by now. Effective strategies tended to have that happen to them. They had the people, they had the strategy, all the Underground needed now was a drug to really put themselves out there.

It was just time.

It was also time for tea apparently. The shop owner approached the table, breaching the cone of silence that Shink was projecting to lay down a tea set with steam rising from the top.

Shink waited until the man left again before asking the question that was probably driving him crazy “What made you change your mind? We've been trying to buy it off of you for several years now.” he asked curiously, causing Lock to shrug.

“I suddenly developed a conscience?” Lock said jokingly, gaining an eye roll.

No reason to bare all his cards.

“I hope this isn't some ploy to fleece us for money with a recipe that you would soon make irrelevant with the creation of a new one.” Shink said calmly, which for him, was more threatening than if he'd tried to bluster up.

Lock shook his head.

“You've treated me well over the years. It would be remiss of me to repay you with such... dishonour.” he said. Honour amongst thieves indeed.

The entire place was more honourable really, probably due to it being the earth equivalent to the middle ages. Being nice was sort of a necessity, people couldn't move around that much, and there were fewer of them. Thus a criminal would be brand-marked as one upon being found out, and would be judged as one by everyone in the village or city, unable to move away in most cases.

Hell, Abrakshana only had a population of about a hundred thousand, it was basically a small town by earthen standards.

“Also, you overestimate me. Happy Time is my masterpiece, I have some ideas, probably unfeasible ones, but that is all.” Lock lied absent-mindedly. It would be better for them to think that the drug had been the lucky break of some amateur Alchemist, instead of considering him to be some sort of genius. Which he wasn't mind you, he just had an unfair advantage, but that was how it would appear to the outer world. “If I had some revolutionary new drug I would tell you, you'd still buy Happy Time of course, the Alchemists would accept nothing but. The price would be lower however.” Lock finished.

Shink grimaced, probably thinking about the Black Alchemists. They were definitely the most passionate of their profession, being so devoted to their craft that they mostly ignored pesky things such as morals, and humane testing procedures.

“The price. Yes.” He said, looking at Lock, who simply grinned in return.

“Well, spit it out, how much do you want.. We can offer you enough that you could buy some nice things in the upcoming auction.” Shink demanded slash offered.

“I don't need money per say. I would rather exchange the recipe for, how should I say it,” Lock theatrically tapped a finger to his chin, as if thinking, “some friends, yeah, some friends. You know me, very socially awkward. I'm planning to start visiting the beginner dungeon soon, but silly I wasn't able to find any party members yet due to my social skills. I wouldn't need them for long, a month or two at the most, I have some things that need to be handled discreetly in there.”

“Specifications?” Shink asked.

“Trustworthy and discreet, those two attributes are the most important, strength comes afterwards. Try to get me some that have yet to be registered so that they may class themselves as Iron of course.” Lock said immediately, he'd already spent some time thinking about it after all.

A contemplative silence fell upon the table, Lock used the opportunity to mix some honey and lemon into his willow bark tea and took a sip. He sighed in contentment and leaned back on the armchair. Great stuff, as always.

“I need to discuss this with the others.” Shink finally said.

“Please do, if it's impossible, I would be fine with selling the recipe for money as well.” Lock said.

“I'll try my best. A warning however. The Underground isn't interested in being pulled into the political shitshow that is the beginner dungeon, if you're found out, we're washing our hands of the entire operation. I haven't revealed anything about you to them, since you're a family friend, so try to not fuck this up. It's also my ass on the line.” Shink said as he stood up and made to leave.

“Don't worry, the scapegoats are already in place.” Lock muttered, staring into the distance while drinking from his tea cup, carefully positioning his head so his overly long brown hair wouldn't fall into his beverage. He would need to cut it soon.

Shink paused, nodded without looking back and left.