“What the fuck?” a soldier roared from the gardens.

I turned as the twelve soldiers snatched up their spears. Their tankards clattered to the ground, and they sprinted toward the cart. My half-witted farmhand expression appeared on my face again as I backpedalled away from Kilcoy’s corpse with feigned shock. I held up my hands and shied away as the soldiers surrounded me. Four leveled their spears at my chest while the others clustered around the dead merchant. Fury blazed in their eyes, and I eyed the spears nervously.

I needed to do some quick talking to get out of this situation. Playing stupid and offering the soldiers a carrot on a stick would be my best option.

“We need a physician.” I gasped again, only just refraining from bringing my hand up to my mouth—I shouldn’t overdo it, but I was kind of having fun fooling these drunkards. “He just collapsed. I don’t know what happened.”

“Shut up!” a soldier said as he jabbed my ribs with the butt of his spear. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“I don’t know what happened! We were just talking, and he collapsed!”

A bearded soldier bent over Kilcoy and shook his head. “He’s dead. Looks like something cut him up from the inside.” The man straightened up and glared at me. “What sorcery is this, sheep-fucker?”

“I don’t have magic. I’m just a worker here. Please, don’t hurt me!” I raised my hands and entwined my fingers in a begging gesture. It made my stomach curdle to act like this, but a little theatrics would mean saving my head for the moment. After, I’d deal with every last one of them. I just needed time to formulate a plan.

“We should kill him,” a man to my left growled. “The Baron will have our heads for this if we don’t have a scapegoat.”

“I’m innocent,” I said. “Please, there has to be something we can arrange.”

The bearded man stalked closer to me. “What could you possibly give us?”

“Food, lodging, anything you want.”

The soldiers surrounding me glanced at each other with a glint in their eye.

The mage’s voice cut across them as she joined us. “This is the work of a powerful mage, Brigmann,” she said to the bearded soldier. “Look at the boy. He doesn’t have the skill or the wit for this.”

My eyes flitted over to her.

She ignored me and stretched her arms. “And I’m tired, besides. Why don’t we take up the young fool on his offer? Surely you and your men could use a place to rest your heads tonight, somewhere comfortable?”

Kilcoy’s soldiers murmured among themselves, and then Brigmann waved his men away from me. They lowered their spears as their new leader closed in. I averted my eyes and tensed as the mercenary pulled his gloved fist back. I moved with the punch so it barely connected with my jaw, and I let my legs slide out from under me. I even managed to make my snickers sound like whimpering behind my hand.

“You’ll make us the best damn food you have here,” Brigmann growled.

I nodded. “Of course. I can even try to make the whores, if you’d like that, to help you relax.”

The soldiers guffawed and slapped each other on the shoulders.

“You’d better,” Brigmann said. “Get to cooking, sheep-fucker. The food, and the whores. The lads are hungry.”

The soldiers retreated from the cart and shot disgusted looks at the merchant’s corpse as they strode away. I got to my feet slowly and watched them make their way back to their barrel of beer.

My mind raced as I considered my options. Alexia had left the recipe for the Draught for Unwelcome Guests in the kitchen. I had all the Essence I needed to make new homunculi. The soldiers believed they were in charge, and if I could keep them thinking that, I would maintain the real advantage. Brigmann had the advantage of weapons and numbers. But he was definitely lacking in the brains department. The mage regarded me impassively for a moment before she turned on her heeled boot toward the manor.

Kilcoy’s mage friend was my greatest threat. She knew more than she was letting on.

But I’d deal with her when I came to it. I had my own mage, and I’d seen the power Alexia possessed. If it came down to a straight fight, I liked my chances. I quickly made my way toward the front door of the manor. A soldier hocked a loogie at me as I passed, and I ducked my head to avoid it.

I had a dinner party to prepare.

My culinary skills were as sharp as they’d ever been. It took me a few hours to conjure up the best meal they’d probably had in years. It didn’t take long for my unwelcome guests to find Jamin’s wine stores. As the afternoon stretched on, the sound of singing, drunken merriment, and the occasional fight echoed through the house.

I was glad that Alexia had decided to hide out in the shack. I didn’t want any of these drunken, rapacious lunatics anywhere near her.

The Draught for Uninvited Guests was a simple potion to brew. All the ingredients grew out in the manor gardens, and the soldiers didn’t notice my trips outside to gather the required fruits and herbs. The only person who might have realized my plan was the witch, but I’d told her she could have a room alone upstairs. She’d seemed pleased to get away from the soldiers, and having her elsewhere meant my scheme was less likely to be discovered.

I glanced out the window. Dusk had crept in over the sky.

My pot of the draught flared as I dropped the gorequinces into it. The brew was odorless, and the recipe said it would be both tasteless and barely detectable to even an experienced alchemist. But I couldn’t bet on the poison alone. It was a fast-acting neurotoxin that induced rapid paralysis quickly followed by death. If the soldiers didn’t all start eating at the same time, they’d realize I’d poisoned their fellows, and they’d likely try to kill me.

But they wanted their whores. And that gave me an opportunity to work with the Replicator unattended. By the time all of Kilcoy’s mercenaries had sat down to eat, I’d have a new and improved homunculus waiting to clear the table of any survivors.

“Sheep-fucker!” Brigmann snarled.

I glanced up and saw him at the entrance to the kitchen. Wine stained the front of his leather jerkin, and his eyes were slightly unfocused as he glared at me.

“Yes?”

“The lady upstairs wants to see you,” the soldier belched. “Lay a finger on her and I’ll jam my spear so far up your ass that you’ll be tasting your own intestines.”

I offered him a bow and hid my gritted teeth. “Of course.”

The leader of the mercenaries stumbled away to find his friends, and I covered the pot of poison before I left the kitchen. I didn’t want to spoil my plan before it came to fruition. The dining hall was a mess of wine bottles and goblets, and stank of piss and bad breath. The soldiers jeered at me as I strolled past and started up the stairs. I hated them. All of them. Each of these bastards was just the same as Rikard and Kilcoy. Mercenaries went where they wanted and took what they felt they were owed—better said, they took whatever they could grab.

But each one of them would have their comeuppance.

I paused outside the door to the witch’s room. She wasn’t like the others. Hells, the woman had even covered for me and allowed for the opportunity to set up this dinner party. Part of me wondered if she could read my mind, or see the future—or both.

I knocked twice on a closed suite door and waited.

“Come on in, farmhand,” a sultry voice said.

I shouldered the door open and found that Kilcoy’s mage friend had settled in rather quickly. Her wardrobe was scattered over the large double bed. Her boots sat beside me by the door, and her cloak hung from a coat hook above them. But once my eyes landed on the woman herself, I stopped inspecting the room. Her cloak, hood, and circlet had vanished. She stood in a small bath on the far end of the room by the window. Her blonde curls tumbled down her shoulders, and piercing blue eyes narrowed in on me as I leaned against the doorframe.

The mage was naked from the waist down. Smooth legs and pale skin drew my attention to the gap between her thighs. A blond fuzz, neatly trimmed, guarded the way to her entrance. Her fingers tugged idly at the laces of her corset as she watched me with an expressionless gaze. Goosebumps dotted her bare flesh, and her lips were a faint shade of blue.

“Yes, m’lady?” I asked her.

“I require coals. I’m cold.”

“I can see that.”

Her eyes softened and she offered me a sensuous smile. She finished unlacing her low-cut corset and let the minimal item of clothing slide off her, keeping it from falling to the ground with two fingers. Generous breasts slipped free of the leather, bouncing into the space they were suddenly granted. My eyes were drawn to her firm nipples—something told me they were so tightly defined and rigid for more reasons than just the cold. The round, firm expanse of her breasts emphasized the amazing slimness of her waist. She didn’t seem to need a corset to accentuate her body—if anything, her breasts showed themselves even perter and fresher now, her outline a platonic hourglass.

The witch flung the corset onto the bed and sat down. She beckoned me closer with a single finger, but I stayed where I was. This was a power play, a delicious peach placed onto a bear trap. And not even a subtle one. Although I sure wanted to bite.

“You’ll find a basin in the washroom,” I told her as I tried to fight off a grin at her brazenness. “There’s an oven. A few minutes and you should have the coals you need.”

She frowned at me and pouted.

“I have to finish cooking,” I said apologetically.

“What’s your name, farmhand?”

The witch settled down on the rim of the bath and crossed her legs with unspeakable elegance. She leaned on her knees and gave me a perfect view of her breasts as they rose and fell with her breathing. She looked up at me with that look that all men know and no man can resist.

“Caleb. Yours?”

“Selene. How far off is dinner?”

“Another half hour or so. I’m sorry, but I really must go.”

She raised an eyebrow and offered me that trouser-tightening smile again. “Really?”

I backed out of the room, closed the door behind me, and chuckled to myself as I went downstairs to the kitchen. My last day had involved more naked women in Jamin’s chambers than my uncle could have ever dreamed of. But I couldn’t let myself get distracted. The beautiful mage was simply trying to pull my attention away from the task at hand. She knew something was wrong, and that death was in the air. In any other context, I wouldn’t have had to think for a second to bring the coals up for her myself and join her for the bath.

Selene wasn’t like the others. She was a Kingdom-sanctioned mage, and a very serious obstacle in my otherwise simple plan. I didn’t want to kill her. The witch hadn’t broken anything, treated me unfairly, or otherwise made a nuisance of herself. In part, I had her to thank for this opportunity to end up on top.

I decided to spare her life if the opportunity presented itself. But if she turned out to simply be another agent of Longhorn Martyn, I’d kill her with the rest. I couldn’t put my farm or Alexia at risk, even if it meant taking the life of such a powerful woman.

About ten minutes later, while I was busy in the kitchen, another soldier came in. I gritted my teeth as I stirred the large pot of beef stew and met his eyes. This soldier was drunk, but not drunk enough. Danger glimmered in his eyes as he stalked forward and shoved me back against the bench.

“Where are our whores?” he demanded.

“I’ll go and see to them now,” I said. “But you’ll need to leave me alone.”

“Why’s that?”

“I can’t work when people are watching. Also, homunculi need a few minutes before they’re fully developed,” I told him honestly.” You wouldn’t want a limbless whore, would you, no matter how pretty her face is. Now, how many do you need?”

“One each. And they’d better be nice to look at.”

“Tell the others that I’ll return soon. With your women, as promised.”

He grinned triumphantly and returned to the dining room. I took the opportunity to remove the draught from the stove and cool it. It was almost ready. A pile of fire-roasted potatoes sat on a large dish, and I had prepared all the trays and plates, cups and cutlery.

I left the kitchen behind and strolled out the garden as casually as I could. Soft moonlight tickled the leaves of dancing branches. I picked up one of the brand-new crates of Essence and entered the Shack.

I lit a lantern at the workbench, set down the Replicator fuel, and kicked the door shut behind me. A hand touched my shoulder, and I snatched a cleaver from the wall as I whirled around to confront whoever it was. Alexia caught my arm. I knew it could have been her, but I had to be prepared to defend myself right away if it hadn’t been. She touched a finger to my lips and smiled warmly as I placed the cleaver back to its wall mount.

“It’s just me,” the elf whispered.

“Sorry, I’m a little paranoid.”

“Understandable. They’re repulsive creatures, these mercenaries.”

“They’ll be even more repulsive when I’m done with them.”

“What are you making first?” Alexia asked excitedly.

“I’m going to stall for time and say that the Replicator is warming up. I’ll build the best homunculus I can for a close-quarters battle and then feed them the poison. The Slammers will lead and pin them down, and a Zweihander homunculus will finish the job.”

“And the mage?”

“You can take her if she decides to join the fight. There’ll be plenty of blood to go around for everyone. But I don’t want to kill her if I don’t have to.”

“Is it because she’s beautiful?” Alexia asked innocently.

I shook my head. “It’s not just that. She’s powerful and dangerous, and it’s a lot harder to just make her disappear. Rikard, Kilcoy, these soldiers? They’re nothing more than fodder for the Baron. But the Kingdom will notice if one of their mages goes missing.”

Jamin’s military-grade recipes were still in my pocket. I pulled out the hastily copied page and read the required ingredients for the Zweihander Swordsman. It required the arm of a “fierce warrior,” a proper steel sword, and a thimble of the strongest firewine I had on hand. The ingredients would create a well-rounded attack unit. The arm for the body, the sword for the mind, and the firewine for the soul.

I found the remains of Rikard’s arm on a shelf above the workbench beside his huge sword. I’d preserved everything I could in jars of preservation fluid.

I replaced the empty Essence cartridge into the back of the Replicator. The machine came to life with a whirring hum. Blue light flashed through the shack as I placed the required ingredients onto the plinth and yanked down the lever. Steam hissed from the Replicator as the fresh ether bled through the valves and consumed the new items.

A skeleton appeared in the central chamber a moment later. Organs spiralled out from its ribs, muscles sprouted, and skin curled around to create a brand-new homunculus. The machine spat out a piece of parchment, and I briefly examined the stats of my newest creation.

Garmont Companion Farm has created a Zweihandher Swordsman (Human)!

Attack Power: 10

Toughness: 3

Accuracy: 5

Vitality: 3

Intelligence: 5

Skills: Cleaving Blow

“It looks like Rikard,” Alexia whispered.

The homunculus thudded his fist against the Replicator’s glass casing. He was built with lean muscle and possessed the same cruel features as Rikard. I reached out and touched the thoughts of the Swordsman. His mind flickered with knowledge of swordcraft and a streak of dirty, close-quarters fighting that I’d never learned properly myself. The homunculus stilled at the touch of my mind, and I directed him to sit down.

I turned to Alexia, and she suddenly leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“The witch is outside the house and coming this way,” she breathed.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I had to force myself to breathe slowly. “Here’s the plan. I need you to wait here until the Swordsman knocks three times on the Replicator door. Then you let it out, get my crossbow from behind the front door, and bring it to the kitchen. Oh, and don’t be seen. Alright?”

Alexia nodded, and a surge of pride joined my rush of fresh energy.

“I’ll get them comfortable and call on you if I need you,” I said. “Here.”

I pulled my large key ring from around my neck and handed it to her. “Find the biggest sword you can in the armory and give it to the Swordsman when you bring him in. He’ll follow you along with the Slammers. Be ready for a fight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she murmured, and kissed my cheek.

I grinned proudly as the blood mage took the keys from my hand. She had only been out of the cellar for the better part of two days and already she was proving to be worth her weight in gold. I picked up the lantern and admired her figure as she crept noiselessly into the deep shadows of the shack. I turned to the door, took a deep breath, and then assumed the persona of a clueless farmer as I went outside to meet Selene.

She halted when I closed the door behind me. She glanced toward the blue light of the Replicator as it flickered through the cracks in the shack’s dilapidated walls. I didn’t flinch, but gave her an appreciative once-over. She raised an eyebrow. Her tousled hair was still wet from her bath, and even from five yards away I could smell her delicate perfume.

“How are the whores?” she asked.

“There’s been a problem with the Replicator. It’s not working as intended. Something to do with the illegal recipe. I’ll take a closer look at it after I serve dinner.”

“Brigmann and the others won’t be pleased.”

“Trust me, any disappointment they might have will vanish once they taste my stew.”

Selene smiled. “Kilcoy never let me forget that Jamin was his best customer—as well as being one of the shadiest. You said he was traveling abroad?”

I shrugged. “He said something about a pilgrimage to the mountains. I don’t know when he’ll return, but it shouldn’t be too long.”

The mage laughed. I couldn’t help but smile at the mellow, honeyed tone.

“Is he looking for the Immortal Elixir of legend?” Selene asked.

“I don’t know anything about that, but knowing the old snake, he probably is. He always complained about getting older. Something about not being able to satisfy a lady.”

“Did he now?” Selene joined me as I started back to the manor. “I would’ve thought all the men of your stock were exceptionally virile. Or is that just you?”

Her blatant flirtation sent blood rushing to my head. Images of her standing naked in the bath overpowered my mind, and I had to remind myself that I still didn’t know what she wanted. All of this could be a trap. That said, that didn’t mean I couldn’t hold on to those beautiful images for my personal enjoyment.

“Just me, I suppose. Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“We’ll see. I’m rather tired from the journey.”

“Could you explain the situation with the homunculi to the soldiers? Get them ready for dinner and assure them they’ll be better off waiting until afterward?”

Selene gave me a long look and eventually nodded. “I can.”