Chapter 63: Potions and Intelligence

“Before your arrival, York spent several days observing the surroundings of Alvado.”

“Controlling corpses is originally a third-circle necromantic spell, but third-circle mages can control no more than ten corpses at most, while fourth-circle can control a hundred, and fifth-circle can control thousands,” York said. “Twelve years ago when Quasimodo fled Thorn Bay, the church assessed him as third-circle, but now without doubt he’s at least a fifth-circle necromancer.”

“He’s deployed over a hundred death hounds in Alvado as his eyes and ears.”

“There are also his eyes in the sky. That day York spotted night owls flying overhead – it was those owls that led the Icelanders to capture York. If you enter Alvado without any preparation, even if those Icelanders don’t notice you, the death hounds and night owls will spot you.”

“Do you have a way to evade those undead?” Lucas asked.

York retrieved a gray potion from a bottle on the table: “This is Ash Potion, refined by York from grave moss, mourning bellflowers, graveyard soil and tobacco. Pouring it over your body can temporarily mask living presence. York used this potion when traveling at night in the past.”

“As long as you’re not directly spotted by undead creatures, you can avoid Quasimodo’s surveillance.”

Lucas took the potion and asked further: “Old York, which do you think is better for the operation – daytime or nighttime?”

“York recommends night,” Old York said. “With York’s potion, darkness can conceal your figures. Moreover, the Icelanders sleep at night and won’t send out many patrols. It seems they’ve delegated most guard duties to Quasimodo.”

Lucas nodded: “Anything else we should be cautious about?”

“Beware Quasimodo’s corpse poison.” Old York took out a light green potion. “This is antidote made by Old York. York hopes you won’t encounter any fights and can make the trip smoothly, but if… if you must battle Quasimodo’s undead, be extremely careful of his corpse poison and corpse explosion spells.”

“Beyond controlling corpses to fight, he can make any corpse release terrible toxins – some just stink, some cause fainting, and some can even corrode like a two-headed wyvern’s saliva, lethal to humans.”

“Quasimodo has unique expertise in corpse poison. On the day he fled Thorn Bay, he released terrible corpse poison through the bay and waterways, causing tens of thousands of Thornvik people to suffer diarrhea and collapse. It was amidst this chaos that he escaped successfully.”

“As for corpse explosion, it’s more terrifying than Viking warship cannons – the most direct attack spell in the Construct school, making corpses explode with a bang. Its power depends on the corpse’s size and the necromancer’s poured magic.”

“If it’s just a death hound exploding nearby, it likely won’t kill you, but the toxins and stench will immediately incapacitate you. When anticipating combat, drink this antidote beforehand – it’ll help you endure longer while temporarily numbing your smell to avoid the stench’s effects.”

“Hope we won’t need to use it,” Lucas said as he accepted another antidote bottle, “but if things turn bad, I’ll surely need it badly.”

Lucas recalled the sewn beast he encountered in Bronte Village – the stench still made his stomach churn. Had he possessed this potion then, he’d have suffered much less.

“Finally there’s York’s healing potion,” York said. “Porter, you should be familiar with it. These are just hastily made healing potions – York apologizes for lacking materials and time to make fifty-silver potions. These are low-grade ones worth five silver each. York made six bottles – you always favored this type, taking one each visit.”

“Five-silver potions aren’t cheap for an Iron-rank adventurer,” Lucas chuckled. “But Old York, your potions are worth every penny – more like a bargain actually. That’s why I keep buying them.”

“You finally sound like the Porter York remembers.” The gnome also smiled.

“I’m thirty-three already, Old York.” Lucas looked at his palms. “Youth and vitality should’ve left me long ago. How can a thirty-three-year-old man compare to a seventeen-year-old lad?”

“If there’s still chance, York would love to share another drink with you, hearing about your thrilling adventures after leaving Alvado.”

“Thrilling incidents were plenty, though not that interesting,” Lucas said. “Truth be told, this current adventure might be the most thrilling in my entire life.”

“A retired Iron-rank adventurer about to challenge a Gold-rank equivalent necromancer and a thousand-strong Icelander war band – if I survive, perhaps I’ll finally write that book, fulfilling my youthful dream of having bards sing of Lucas Porter’s legend.”

“That was your dream?”

“Why else do you think I left the village?” Lucas joked. “This is the closest I’ve been to that dream. I must consider whether this is my only chance in this lifetime.”

“York prays you’ll become legend.”

Lucas didn’t respond, just stared at his rough, scarred and calloused hands.

“Should Old York examine your injuries again?” Old York asked. “York heard you had fractures. Though that potion was premium, for bone setting York has unique techniques.”

“You can treat ribs too?” Lucas asked.

“Can reset them manually.” Old York said.

“Then I’m in your hands.” Lucas lifted his shirt.

The gnome hopped off his stool, manually realigning Lucas’s bones through massage. Lucas grunted as his displaced ribs snapped back into place. The healing potion kept working – after sufficient rest and meals, his wounds were recovering rapidly with the medicine still active.

“Has Sir Wade decided when to depart?” Lucas asked.

“Tonight,” the gnome said. “That sir said delaying risks the Icelander squad’s abnormality being noticed, tightening security. Thus he plans to leave tonight – it’s already late outside.”

“Perfect timing – I can guide Sir Wade.” Lucas took deep breaths, clenched his fists, eyes closed sensing his returning strength. “Alvado – I still remember every road and alley there.”

“The Mist Stone is hidden under York’s bed. Enter through the workshop door, go straight backstage, count three rows from the wall and pry up the sixth loose stone tile to find it.”

“I’ve already given the key to that sir. If you retrieve the Mist Stone, York can make dense fog envelop the mountains and Alvado within ten minutes. Even a necromancer would struggle tracking us in such fog.”

“If I find the stone, I’ll run – run with everything I’ve got,” Lucas said.