Chapter 1: A thickening plot
Asmodeus slipped his potent mandrake potion back into his green coveralls as the Sage approached down the gloomy corridor of the Citadel crypt.
“Do you have what was promised?” he asked.
“No time for pleasantries eh?” replied Wizard #2885. He tossed a bulging pouch over to Asmodeus. The contents clinked heavily as he caught it. Asmodeus untied the cord and checked the coins inside, before tucking his payment away next to the vial of potion.
“Time is money, Sage. What would you have me do?”
Otto chuckled, raising his hands placatingly. “Fair enough Alchemist, straight to business then. I’ve discovered that the Empress is a fraud – her name is Circe, and she’s a Charmer from Red Wizard Capital. She’s been using her eternal rose to hold the entire city in thrall. The Council is willing to pay triple what I just gave you if you succeed in overturning the spell she has cast over the city.”
He looked around, then leaned in close and spoke softly in the Asmodeus’ ear. “My benefactor will double your fee again if you can expose the fact that she’s a Red Wizard. But nobody can know where the information comes from. If you can capture her accomplice and deliver her to him unharmed… well, then you can name your price.”
Asmodeus nodded wordlessly and vanished into the shadows. Otto cleared his throat uncomfortably, his false bravado vanishing as quickly as the alchemist. He wondered if ignoring his instincts and enlisting the help of a rogue arcanist was such a sensible idea after all. They were notoriously unpredictable, albeit effective. Not for the first time, he found his mind at odds with himself… why did this whole plan trouble him so?
Finally, shaking his head, he turned and made his way back out of the crypts into a sunlit corridor of the palace. Back out in the open air, away from the damp, mouldy atmosphere of the crypt, he felt more confident again. His mind was hazy, though. He struggled to remember any details about the end of his mission in the forest or how he had got back to the Citadel – when he tried to recall any specific events, they slipped out of his reach like a river perch through the fingers.
Images tugged faintly at his mind – a wizard… bells on his shoes, and a silky yellow cape… stars spinning low in the air… a faint waft of hops and barley floating in the deep dark burrow of his psyche. He frowned, struggling to find meaning in his fragmented memories as they slipped away.
Chapter 2: Slime into wine
Asmodeus crouched in the shadows looking down on the bedchamber. Wizard #3914, and Wizard #4841 sat huddled together on a plush divan beneath a glittering chandelier that probably cost more than the alchemist’s parents had ever earned in their entire lifetime. The younger woman – scarcely old enough to be called such – was telling a story of some fantastical adventure in a lazy drawl; the supposed Empress listened avidly, her hand resting on Bathsheba’s forearm as she stared up at her companion’s face with a rapt expression, her eyes sparkling.
Two goblets and a pitcher of wine sat on the table next to the divan. Asmodeus smiled to himself and delicately pulled the stopper from the vial of mandrake potion. Amber, his topaz slime familiar, oozed her way from his shoulder, down his chest and onto his knee. He petted her softly and then dripped several drops of the potion onto her round, orange body. Her skin rippled, instantaneously absorbing the drug, then she flowed along the ceiling beam and down one of the rich tapestries hanging from the walls.
Asmodeus watched the two foxes that lay at the foot of the divan, keeping an eye out for any sign that they sensed Amber’s approach, but they were also far too engrossed in each other to notice anything untoward.
Amber crept her way up the leg of the table. Noting that none of the room’s occupants were paying any attention, she flowed up the pitcher’s handle and hung part of her gelatinous body over the lip. Asmodeus saw a small wisp of smoke puff up from the surface of the wine as Amber dipped herself into it, and the lower half of her body flushed a deep burgundy.
Her task done, the slime retracted her body and made her way unsteadily back towards the wall at the far end of the chamber. Asmodeus noticed that she was oozing in not quite as straight a line as before. As she approached the tapestry, she let out a small hiccup. Asmodeus’ eyes widened in alarm; one of the foxes had raised its head and looked around suspiciously. The alchemist held his breath. Thankfully Amber kept enough of her wits about her to remain completely still. Eventually the fox settled back down, and the alchemist calmed his jangling nerves, then settled down to wait.
As Amber made her way slowly up the tapestry, Circe reached over and poured more wine into the two goblets, handing one to Bathsheba. He held his breath.
The two wizards knocked their goblets together, but then Circe leant over and whispered something in Bathsheba’s ear. The Hex Mage gave a short, throaty laugh, and tilted her head, allowing the Charmer to plant small kisses up her neck as the goblets dangled precariously from their fingers. Asmodeus gritted his teeth. The slime was now wobbling along the wooden beam, almost losing her balance. Asmodeus frowned at her, but Amber made a gesture reminiscent of a shrug and squelched her way onto his leg.
He turned his attention back to the wizards below, willing them to drink, but for the moment they were too involved in each other to think of wine. Bathsheba took Circe’s goblet from her and placed them both back on the side table. Asmodeus winced.
Once the mandrake potion took hold, he could begin to put his plan in motion, but if they did not drink the wine, he would be forced to find another way to administer it. Without the potion’s magic, he would never be able to strip bare the Charmer’s spell and push the Citadel towards war with Red Wizard Capital. Relations already rested on a knife’s edge – if her deception was revealed, finding out that their beloved Empress was in fact a Red imposter would send the Citadel into a frenzy… and then, who knew what other opportunities would arise for a rogue arcanist with the perfect blend of ambition, daring, and intelligence? If he leveraged the situation just right, it would be Asmodeus calling the shots, and the Wizarding Council scurrying to obey. But first, they needed to drink.
Finally, Bathsheba gently pressed her partner back onto the plush cushions of the divan and stretched over her to retrieve the two glasses of wine.
The alchemist leaned over expectantly as they raised the glasses to their lips.
They drank, and Asmodeus felt the stress flow out of his body; it wouldn’t be long before the potion’s effects began to take hold…
Still perched on his knee, Amber let out a violent hiccup. Aghast, Asmodeus slapped his hand over where he figured her mouth to be.
His stomach a cold, hard knot, he looked down and saw four pairs of startled and furious eyes glaring up at him.
Story Arc Index:
Prologue: Wizard #3914
Part 1: Pony #77
Part 2: Wizard #2877
Part 3: Wizard #1175
Part 4: Wizard #3901
Part 5: Wizard #4841
Part 6: Wizard #2885
Part 7: Wizard #3917
Part 8: Wizard #6084
Entered by: 0x24D7…e52b and preserved on chain (see transaction)
