The Alchemy Princess

Chapter 1 - Dungeons

On the eve of the weekly executions, Rastra Sagewood found herself with a spring in her step, an inexplicable excitement bubbling within her. Each deliberate step she took towards the looming dungeons was filled with a sense of anticipation, a feeling most would dread in the face of such a forbidding place. But for Rastra, these dreaded dungeons were her second home.

As she approached the prison sector, her backpack, heavy with its precious cargo, shifted to the front, and she clutched it tightly, ensuring the glass bottles inside remained silent. The slightest jingle could expose her presence, and she had no intention of allowing that to happen. Drawing closer to her destination, she instinctively concealed herself behind nearby hedges.

Normally, this was the point where Rastra would indulge in a brief nap, her well-practiced routine. However, something was amiss on this particular night. The conspicuous absence of patrolling guards put her on edge. Typically, she moved through the labyrinthine streets with practiced finesse, but tonight, the descent into the depths of the prison felt surprisingly straightforward. Above, the stars beckoned, inviting her to lose herself in deeper contemplation. The night's beauty was so profound that it brought a solitary tear to her eye. Since the beginning of the Reconstruction, Rastra had been constantly on the move, leaving her with little time to savor the essence of what it truly meant to be alive.

"Are you crying?" came a bewildered voice next to her.

Rastra jumped, her initial instinct to scream giving way to relief as she recognized a familiar face. His features were as unremarkable as ever—brown hair, pale skin, a rough beard, average height, and a slightly crooked nose. He adjusted his guard's helm ever so slightly to the left.

"Oh, hey Tyn, I was waiting for you," she replied as calmly as she could muster.

"Your awareness is a bit questionable because I've been staring at you for about a minute now," Tyn replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he gestured toward the open door a few feet away.

Rastra had always tried to appear relaxed around Tyn, but she was secretly disappointed in herself. She didn't take it well when Tyn criticized her, though it was a frequent occurrence given that he was her mentor. She looked up to him and wanted more than anything to impress him.

She entered first, and Tyn shut the door behind her. As always, it was the smell that assaulted her senses first—human refuse, mildew, and the unmistakable stench of stale air made her gag slightly. If her eyes weren't already watery, they would've teared up as well. What hit her second was the eerie silence. She had expected to hear moaning, crying, or even screaming, but these prisoners had accepted their fate, having broken the rules on purpose—just like she was doing now.

The weight of the consequences of her actions pressed upon her as she looked into the prisoners' eyes. She and Tyn walked up to the first cell. In the dungeon, only their footsteps broke the silence. Tonight, Tyn was the sole guardian on duty; his partner, technically assigned, had fallen asleep under the influence of wine won from Tyn in a game of dice.

She slowly unrolled her list, her gaze fixed on the man in the first cell. She didn't recognize him, which was unusual considering her growing reputation.

"Did you pay?" she inquired.

The man's downcast eyes shot up, fixing on her as if he'd just noticed her. He jumped to his feet with surprising quickness—evidently, a Swiftmage, she thought.

"It's Isaac. Isaac Crawthorn. My wife sent the payment yesterday," he said with equal swiftness.

Rastra squinted at her scrawled handwriting, not proud of her sloppy pen strokes, but acknowledging that her true talent lay elsewhere.

"Found you! You're all set. Come a bit closer; I'll have the Dreamvine elixir ready in a minute. Remember to drink it quickly before it loses its potency."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. "May the gods bless you."

You're the one who needs the gods' blessing

Setting her backpack down, she pulled out two pre-made vials and mixed them together, adding the secret ingredient - Agniflora. She shook the concoction for ten counts and then shoved it through the bars.

"Here, take it now."

The man eagerly swallowed it down and blinked twice. He seemed confused. "I don't feel anything."

"It's in there, don't worry. Just remember to scream tomorrow. That is my only rule of service. I need to keep my business going," she said, contemplating the gravity of her actions. "Your wife could be next."

With that being said, the man shrunk back into his corner, putting his head down. Tyn gave her a nod of approval. Rastra used to feel remorse about her business model, rooted in the suffering of others, but in the end, she was driven by necessity. She was the best at what she did, even better than Tyn, her mentor.

Most of the prisoners who had paid came forth from their cells upon hearing that the alchemist had arrived. Rastra diligently went through the list, verifying each person's name before handing them their elixir. Tyn accompanied her most of the time, occasionally making his rounds to check on the door and his slumbering partner.

At last, her list was all crossed out, and she made her way to the door. In the middle, a frail voice called out, "Excuse me, miss. Can I have some?"

Rastra approached the cell and was surprised to find an old man.

"Sorry, your name is not on the list. Only paying customers."

"I would just like some Dreamvine, please. To ease the pain tomorrow. I am not ready."

"Sorry," she replied while turning away on her heel.

At that, the old man erupted in sobs and pleas. Rastra wanted to feel sympathy, but her circumstances did not allow it. This happened all too often. If she gave the Dreamvine to everyone she pitied, her profits would dwindle.

Rastra left the distraught old man behind and continued her journey towards the exit. Each step away from the dungeons was like a release of pent-up tension. She couldn't deny that her chosen path was a morally gray one, but in the unforgiving world she inhabited, it was a matter of survival. Tyn's teachings had shown her how to navigate this treacherous terrain, and she had become a master of her craft.

Tyn joined her at the exit, and the two of them made their way through the labyrinthine streets, retracing their steps. The absence of patrolling guards that had unnerved Rastra earlier now worked in their favor, allowing them to slip away undetected. Tyn was a silent but steadfast presence by her side, the mentor who had taught her the intricate dance of secrecy and deception.

As they returned to the relative safety of the city's outskirts, Rastra couldn't help but think about the people she had just aided. Their faces, their whispered thanks, and their silent pleas for relief lingered in her mind. In a world that had been torn apart by conflict and despair, she was a glimmer of hope for those who could afford her services.

The night was still young, and Rastra knew that the cycle would continue, week after week. She had carved a niche for herself in this dark and unforgiving world, and she was determined to survive, no matter the cost. Business was business, and for Rastra, it was the only way to stay alive in a world that had lost its way.