novelraw Chapter 128: Alchemical Golem Blueprints
Chapter 128: Alchemical Golem Blueprints
Sixteen bronze-colored alchemical carriages rolled along the trade road through the rain, their axle-mounted steam pistons rhythmically exhaling white mist. These transport vehicles, produced by the Lothrian Federation, required no beast of burden to pull them - instead relying on miniature furnace engines embedded in their chassis centers that now glowed a dull red through their cooling grates.
Nick lounged in the lead carriage, his head pillowed against the plump thighs of the Tiefling sorceress Margie, looking thoroughly at ease. "Margie, our current cargo vehicles ride quite comfortably, don't they?" Nick pinched the soft flesh between his fingers as he spoke.
"You scoundrel, don't get carried away," the Tiefling sorceress snapped, slapping away his wandering hand with a glare from her sharp green eyes, though the tenderness in her gaze remained unmistakable.
To outsiders, Nick appeared as nothing more than a smooth-talking, unreliable merchant. But to Margie, he was the lover who never once scorned her demonic bloodline or appearance, making her feel truly comfortable for the first time.
Similarly, while most saw Tieflings as sinister and evil, Nick viewed his partner as an honest, guileless soul - his perfect match. Having endured one failed marriage that left him destitute, he'd become thoroughly disillusioned with humanity, only to find solace in this Tiefling's company.
Six years prior, Nick and the Tiefling had held an informal private wedding in Gilbert City's outskirts, attended by no more than five close friends. Their union remained unofficial since the Lothrian Federation prohibited human-Tiefling marriages, citing concerns about spreading demonic bloodlines and potential social instability.
Yet neither Nick nor the Tiefling cared about legal recognition. Their bond needed no paperwork.
As the carriage glided smoothly through the rain, the sorceress gazed out the window before abruptly changing topics. "Nick, whatever overlord managed to unite all the monsters of the Serpentine Earth Rift is no ordinary being. We shouldn't get more deeply involved than we already are. With our current wealth, we could find ways to cure your poison and curses by consulting some senior spellcasters I know."
Nick's smile faded gradually. Staring into his beloved's gem-like green eyes that so captivated him, he said, "Merchants chase profit - it's my nature. I thrive on transactions, delighting in the thrill of a good deal."
After a pause, he continued, "But more importantly, I enjoy dealing with these monsters. They're straightforward with clear goals, unlike our own kind - scheming, insatiable creatures who smile while negotiating but plot to consume you whole, marrow and all."He fell silent for two seconds before sighing wistfully. "Perhaps it's because I'm growing old, Margie. I've less and less patience for intrigue."
Their deep ties with the Clan of Molten Iron stemmed partly from the sorceress's curse threatening Nick, but mostly from his own evolving perspective. No longer young, he'd grown weary dealing with hungrier, greedier young merchants, preferring now to focus entirely on transactions with the monster clan.
The sorceress looked down at her partner. At forty-two, the pureblood human had entered middle age. Though well-preserved, wrinkles now marked his face and silver streaked his temples - clear signs of time's passage.
In contrast, the Tiefling sorceress, with her trace of demonic blood, enjoyed a natural lifespan around 120 years, only beginning to show age after sixty. At thirty-six, Margie still resembled a human girl barely twenty - her face unlined, skin flawless.
"Perhaps binding closely with the Clan of Molten Iron is for the best," the sorceress murmured. "Nick, their mysterious overlord might help you live longer."
Nick nodded. "Not just me - I hope we can both enjoy long lives together." Though they'd never met the overlord directly, years of deep cooperation had led them to certain speculations.
"We've arrived," Nick announced minutes later, leaning out the observation window as condensation fogged his goggles in the damp season's air. For years now, their trades with the clan had occurred directly on the road rather than at the tribe's territory.
Ahead through the rain, the werewolf sorceress Frostfang waited roadside with three giant wolf knights beneath a makeshift rain shelter. Further back in the shadows loomed indistinct but powerfully built figures whose mere stationary presence radiated palpable pressure.
The caravan's numerous guards refrained from rash actions, having been repeatedly warned by Nick never to draw weapons or show hostility toward werewolves in the Serpentine Earth Rift.
"Unload carefully! No rough handling!" shouted a roughly twenty-eight-year-old man in simple rain gear who'd disembarked to direct troll slaves moving cargo. Cole, once Nick's apprentice, had grown competent enough over ten years to become one of the caravan's key personnel.
Nick stepped out as well. Though possessing rainproof trinkets, seeing the drenched werewolves with their soaked fur, he chose to walk through the rain himself, approaching with a practiced smile.
"Twelve carts of black oil as usual. The rest are spirits, spices, dried fruits, sweet wines... forging molds with temperature-preservation runes, crucible sets embedded with fire-gems." He gestured toward the rain-shrouded vehicles resembling slumbering beasts.
The black oil remained their constant essential. The alcohol, spices, forging equipment and crucibles were for Samantha, while the dried fruits and sweet wines catered to the iron dragon Sorog's unexpected sweet tooth. All sixteen carts carried goods specifically requested by the dragons.
The clan's monsters obtained other desired items through trade with different caravans along the route. Nick's deliveries focused exclusively on draconic demands.
Soon the goods were unloaded, tallied by the werewolves, then carried box by box into the shadows where unseen large figures shouldered them away.
"Come discuss next time's requirements," Frostfang beckoned Nick into the temporary shelter.
"Black oil and small items remain unchanged," the werewolf said. "Additionally, we need one gravity-enhancing alchemical tool, instructional manuals covering all alchemy levels, and complete blueprint sets." She paused before adding, "Preferably including alchemical golem schematics."
The manuals and blueprints weren't Samantha's request, but Sorog's. The proud red dragon believed her inherited knowledge sufficient and superior in all aspects. But the iron dragon considered alchemy's rapid development likely rendered draconic knowledge outdated and insufficiently comprehensive, hence requiring updated materials.
These weren't solely for Samantha's study either. Properly compiled alchemy manuals could help the clan train more alchemists. Constructing large alchemical devices or golems typically required multiple alchemists collaborating. Few practitioners attempting major creations alone would find the process unbearably protracted - even dragon alchemists faced significant challenges working solo. This very difficulty explained why Garoth himself avoided studying alchemy.