In the evening,
After weaving through the labyrinthine alleys of the Crimson Pit District, the carriage finally emerged into Wanehall Market. Towering structures loomed on either side, grotesquely elegant with their dark stone facades adorned in wrought iron filigree, stained-glass windows that shimmered with muted light, and spiked rooftops clawing at the mist-choked sky.
The air was thick with the scent of damp stone, burning tallow, and exotic spices smuggled from across the continent. Lanterns of amber glass cast flickering light upon wet cobblestone paths, reflecting in the puddles formed by perpetual drizzle. The market operated on a twilight schedule, its stalls and hidden parlors truly coming alive under the dim glow of aether and alchemical lamps as merchants hawk rare potions, cursed relics, and illicit substances that blurred the boundaries of reality.
Both Levi and Dorian stepped down from the carriage, their presence commanding the attention of the bustling market.
Lining both sides of the narrow street, shops loomed with their names etched in elaborate script upon aged wooden plaques: Worldcarver's Glyph, Everwoven Grimoire, Earthsong's Embrace, Last Whisper's Reliquary, and Echoed Hour. Each storefront exuded its own peculiar aura, the glow of arcane symbols flickering behind misted glass.
In the Celestial Era, when memories first began to manifest, people named them in poetic phrases, capturing their essence in words steeped in mystery. But the tradition did not fade with time, it endured through every era, shaping the way echoes named their crafts and sanctuaries. Even now, in the present age, their shops bear names woven with meaning, veiling ambition and secrecy beneath lyrical whispers. Yet, these names do more than conceal; they hint at the enigmatic nature of echo abilities, offering glimpses of power and purpose while ensuring their true depths remain shrouded in mystery.
Among the milling crowd, scholars draped in heavy robes bartered in hushed tones, their hands clutching delicate vials brimming with eldritch substances. Others, clad in long coats or simple garb, exchanged potions, enchantments, and artifacts for Solari.
Levi scanned the storefronts, his gaze drifting over the intricate lettering of each name as he passed them one by one. For a time, none held his interest until his eyes settled on a sign etched in flowing script: Everchanging Flask.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, pushing open the door of glass and dark-stained wood. A faint chime echoed through the dim interior as he entered, the scent of alchemical reagents thick in the air. Behind him, Dorain and Veylan followed, their presence a silent shadow at his back.
The store was a labyrinth of shelves lined with potion bottles and flasks, some shimmering with golden luminescence, others steeped in an ominous black haze.
Behind the wooden counter, a man lounged in a chair, his boots propped up lazily, a newspaper draped over his face as he dozed. Levi approached and tapped the small brass bell on the counter.
The sharp chime cut through the silence.
The man jolted awake, the newspaper slipping from his face and fluttering to the ground. As it landed, a symbol caught Levi's eye, a star-shaped pattern inked across its front page.
The men wore a long, fitted coat adorned with brass buttons, reinforced leather straps, and intricate embroidery of alchemical symbols woven into its fabric. His long, curly black hair was a tangled mess, as if it hadn't seen a comb in centuries. With a lazy stretch and a grin, he said,"Oh, my apologies, customers! I was just dreaming of the Domain when I stumbled upon a Transmuter's Rod."
His voice carried a hint of amusement, but the artifact he mentioned was no trivial thing. A relic of Order 5 among potion alchemists echoes, the Transmuter's Rod contained a core of ever-shifting liquid, capable of converting potions into raw energy blasts. Though often repurposed for combat, its true potential extended far beyond, enhancing agriculture, powering machines, and reshaping the very essence of matter itself.
Then he leaned forward, still shaking off sleep, and said, "What can I do for you?"
Levi said in respect. "We need Face Shift potions. All of them."
The alchemist's eyes moved toward Levi's common attire, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Another daydreamer," he thought, amused. "Maybe he plans to buy the whole city next, might as well add a few castles while he's at it."
But still he said, his tone cautious."That'll cost you hundreds of Solari."
Wanehall Market was rife with deception. Too many times, self-proclaimed buyers, scammers, thieves, and lowlifes, talked big, only to attempt robbery the moment a shopkeeper revealed their wares. In a district surrounded by bloodstained arenas, merchants had learned to be wary. Their customers ranged from bounty hunters to pirates, from common crooks to nobles dressed in gold-threaded lies. Here, trust was a currency rarer than the potions themselves.
Levi, understanding the alchemist's hesitation, calmly tossed the sack of Solari onto the counter, his expression unwavering. "Will this do?" he asked, his voice steady and unyielding.
The alchemist's eyes widened as he recognized the significance of the gesture. Realizing he had just encountered a major customer, his demeanor shifted instantly. He straightened, his tone becoming more deferential. "I-I'm terribly sorry, my lord," he stammered, quickly moving to recover from the shock. "Please, have a seat. I'll be with you in just a moment."
He gestured toward a pair of plush chairs in the corner, his eagerness now palpable as he hurried into the backroom.
The alchemist's coat, stiff with dried reagents, rasped as he moved into the back room, where the most expensive elixirs were kept, his voice carrying from beyond the shelves.
"My lord, we have Veil of the Meek, an Order 7 potion. It masks scars and subtly alters facial details for an hour. However, its limitations are severe, it only provides cosmetic changes, making it useless in high-stakes deception."
A brief clinking of glass followed before he continued.
"Then there's Skin of Another, an Order 6 potion. It grants the drinker a secondary face and voice pulled from their subconscious memories. The effect lasts six hours, but the transformation process is agonizing and once taken, the user cannot revert at will."
Another pause, then a shift in his tone, one that hinted at something far more valuable.
"And finally, Masquerade Draught, an Order 5 potion. This one allows flawless imitation of a studied target, down to their voice, mannerisms, and minor physical traits."
Levi cut him off with a sharp, unwavering tone. "Don't bother with the details. I want all of them, from Order 5 to Order 7. But I have one condition."
The alchemist's eyes gleamed at the mention of such a large purchase, his smile widening in realization. As he stepped back into the main room, he couldn't hide his excitement. "I must've struck gold today,"
He leaned forward, clearly eager to hear Levi's conditions. "What condition?"
Levi's voice was quiet, but the weight of his words hung in the air. "First tell me, did you make all of these potions yourself?"
The alchemist faltered for a split second, his smile faltering just enough to reveal a flicker of hesitation before he quickly masked it with a forced grin.
"No," he admitted reluctantly. "I made them but I also buy potions from other alchemists who can't afford to open their own shops or don't have the stock to sell here."
Levi spoke. "I'll buy them all, but only under one condition."
The alchemist straightened, his curiosity piqued. "What condition?"
He replied with measured voice. "You will sell all shape-shifting potions only to me, from now on, not just today, but in the future as well. You'll stop producing all other potions for a month, no exceptions. And not only you, but the other alchemists who supply you. They, too, will focus only on these potions. Furthermore, you will keep this arrangement a secret. No one else can know who you're making these for, or why."
The alchemist frowned deeply, his brow furrowing as the tension tightened across his face. His mind raced, if he ceased producing other potions, he risked losing the loyalty and trust of his regular customers. But if he rejected Levi's offer, he would forfeit a rare opportunity to make a small fortune, knowing full well that Levi would simply turn to his competitors in the market. It was a no-win situation.
He was still confused when his eyes fell on the heavy sack of Solari sitting on the counter, and a spark of calculation flashed in his eyes and made up his mind. "I also have a condition," he said, his voice more guarded now. "The bundle discount we offer to other customers... will not apply to you."
Levi paused, his expression unreadable, then turned slowly toward the door. "I think the other alchemists in the market may not share your perspective."
The alchemist rushed to the door, his voice hurried as he called out, "My lord, I was only joking."
Levi didn't turn around, his tone as cold and direct as ever. "Now, tell me the prices of the potions. And be aware, I will send my servant to confirm the prices of these elixirs in the market."
A smile slowly spread across the alchemist's face, his nerves visibly easing as he calculated the deal. "Of course, my lord. The Order 7 potion is 5 Solari, the Order 6 is 12 Solari, and the Order 5 is 30 Solari. I can offer you a discount, 1 Solari off the Order 7, and half a Solari off the Order 6."
Levi's said as he processed the numbers. "And the Order 5 potion? Will the discount apply there as well?"
The alchemist's smile faltered just slightly, and he shook his head. "No, my lord. It's not that I don't want to, but the Order 5 potions are premium, expensive elixirs. They're rare in the market, and their prices never go down, only higher. I can't lower their price, not without risking the market value of the potion."
Dorian eyed the alchemist's brass-buttoned coat. 'They don't fight, but they feast,' he muttered hinting at the alchemists wealth. Levi said nothing. He'd seen enough alchemists in the arenas, their potions turning screams into gold.
The divisions of the Alchemical and Herbal Specialists are always flush with wealth, for they are the masters of transformation, crafting, and biological manipulation. Their potions, elixirs, and enchantments are perpetually in high demand especially in the arenas, where combatants fight for fame and fortune. With each battle, the need for these life-altering concoctions grows, ensuring that alchemists and herbalists never lack for business.