Brewing Bad (Fantasy Isekai Light LitRPG)

They reached the River Palace a few hours before dawn, which was even bigger than he imagined it to be. He'd heard both Heisenburgle and Skylara describe it in passing as a lesser palace or a vacation spot of the prince, but neither did it justice. The thing was too elaborate to be called a castle, but that was the only word that did the scale of the three-story manor justice.

The thing was made of stone, with a slate roof, surrounded by a carefully manicured lawn that stretched forever in all directions. That lawn, in turn, was scattered with various small gardens, further enhancing its elegance.

If I had a vacation home like this, I'd never go back, Lucas told himself as they got closer.

Despite the long journey from Blackgate, they arrived almost at the precise minute the gnome had planned, according to his pocket watch. Then, everyone got to work and started setting up the hundreds of little details that just might save his life in the battle to come. There were supplies to hide, pyrotechnics to stage, and, of course, Heisenburgle's Hyperquadabulator to position. All of that had to be done before notifying the servants of their arrival. That was Heisenburgle's decision, but Lucas agreed with his logic entirely.

"Even if they tell her nothing, merely acting strangely might be enough to tip the canny old dragoness off," he warned. "She hasn't survived for centuries by being stupid."

Lucas thought about that the whole time they set up. The gnome was familiar with the grounds and had already picked the spot where he was supposed to lure Skylara, which was not far from where the gnome would be pretending to be a statue. It was a romantic little garden spot at the edge of the hedge maze that would be just right for the lover's tryst that he definitely wouldn't be having.

The gnome went on at length, explaining why it was the perfect spot. It was close enough to the river to cover the noise of his charge, and the trellis would keep her from seeing him coming until it was too late. That, combined with the flat ground, made it pretty much perfect, but Lucas doubted that even perfect would be good enough.

"You're going to be half blind when you crash through those vines," Lucas said in hushed tones as he pointed at the trellis. "Not much time between here and there to correct. What if you spear me instead."

Really, it was worse than that because, by the time the gnome broke through the garden wall, his lance would already be halfway to the target. He'd have a second, or perhaps two before it struck home. While that was good from an assassination perspective, it was hardly a clear shot, and a thousand things could go wrong.

"All I need to do is aim for a specific spot. It will be your job to put her there," the gnome scolded him. "Simply stand right here as if you were about to couple with her on this stone bench when you hear the bells chime the tenth hour, and I'll do the rest."

"Yeah, well, you're going to have to," Lucas complained, "Because I'm going to be standing here with my dick in my hand. No armor, no sword, no nothing. Not even the damn cloak I bought."

"If you think that wearing a dragon skin cloak in the company of a dragon is a good idea… Well, I'm not sure what to say," the gnome said with a low chuckle. "I've told you before, if you put on weapons of war and challenged her to her face or even tried to ambush her, she'd squash you like a bug. There are very few professional dragon hunters for a reason."

"Yeah, I know," Luca sighed. He didn't need anyone to tell him how dangerous she was. She'd thrown him around like a rag doll during their last encounter, and trying to pretend that he stood a chance in a fair fight was a really bad idea. He had a sword, and he had his potions. He'd be ready to do his part, but if Heisenburgle didn't deal her one hell of a blow, he felt certain she'd be a hell of a lot tougher than the ice troll.

He wasn't saying Hesienburgle was wrong in any way, shape, or form. He just didn't like it. Somehow, knowing that his fancy poison sword was wrapped in his magic cloak and they were both tucked just inside the hedge maze, didn't, along with a few other alchemical surprises for him to retrieve if everything didn't go according to plan, didn't help much with that.

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They fussed with minor details until the sun was almost above the horizon. Then the gnome had trusted men load him into his now golden armor before lifting that onto his posed horse and fitting the hoses into place. When they were done, Lucas had to admit, it did almost look like a statue.

"You're really going to just sit there all day?" Lucas asked just before the gnome pulled the visor on his helmet down. "Won't you get bored? What if you've got to take a shit?"

"I have taken a mild narcotic that will render me insensible for at least 12 hours," Heisenburgle answered with a yawn.

"At least?!" Lucas answered. "What if you sleep through the big event? You can't leave me hanging!"

"All will be well, Lucas," the gnome answered sleepily. "You needn't worry. By nightfall, I will be rested and ready to join you at the signal. Just stick to the plan, and we both may yet survive this.

Lucas wished he could share the gnome's confidence. However, when he returned to the carriage so that they could ride up the drive and pretend to arrive for the first time, he was filled with doubts. Still, he didn't let any of that show on his face when he stepped out of the carriage and greeted the door. Instead, he stood there every inch the noble he so often pretended to be, and when the doorman asked his business, he didn't say a word to the man. He just looked at him with disdain and handed him an envelope sealed with Heisenburgle's mark.

The doorman couldn't actually read, so he was forced to fetch the Chamberlin, who was, in turn, forced to apologize to Lucas after he read the note. "A thousand apologies, my lord. I assure you that if my man knew you were here on behalf of the Duchas Skylara, he wouldn't have made you wait."

Lucas strode past the elderly man, uncomfortably reminded of the now-dead Gerwin, and saw no need to dwell on that. So, he walked past him and into the entryway of the minor palace, which was one of the prettiest buildings he'd seen in his entire life. The floor-to-ceiling windows really did offer it a commanding view of the river and the valley past it, which made what he had to say next that much stupider.

"I was lead to believe that this place would be clean and presentable for the Duchess," Lucas said, feigning a sneer. "I see that report was in error."

"B-but we weren't expecting—" the chamberlain started making excuses, but Lucas cut him off.

"You have twelve hours to make this place presentable for a queen. She will be here for at least one night and, with any luck, several," he commanded. "At a minimum, this room, the dining hall, and the finest bedroom should be dusted, mopped, and turned down well before her arrival. I want a nine-course feast for two started immediately as well. Inform the cooks that if she is dissatisfied with a single course, all of them will be out on the street!"

"Bu-but…" the chamberlain stammered. "We've had no notice, we've kept the palace…"

"I don't want excuses. I want results," Lucas roared, cringing as he used the line that one of his old bosses had wielded so carelessly. "I don't care if you have to bring in the gardeners and the stable boys to help. You will get it done."

The servants sprang to life immediately, but Lucas ignored them. Instead, he let their fear suffuse the place while he walked to the back patio and, looked down and took in the view. In truth, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the place. It was clean and presentable to anyone of any standing in the kingdom, and he felt bad for berating them, but the fewer people there were anywhere else on the grounds, the less chance they would notice the preparations that Lucas and Heisenburgle had spent making, which was enough to make the deceit necessary.

Once everything was in motion and the house was entirely abuzz with work, Lucas borrowed a smaller guest bedroom to lay out his supplies and take a little nap. All of this was a distraction. It was those preparations that were truly important.

He hung up his last good suit, along with a flimsy ceremonial saber he'd wear with it and all the potions he planned to drink beside that. While it seemed counterintuitive to carry a weapon to make someone feel at ease, he genuinely believed that Skylara loved to be reminded how invincible she was, and a shiny sword that was no more harmful to her than a broomstick would do just that.

The potions came in two batches. The first were the ones he'd put in blue glass vials so he could look like he was doing drugs with his hostess while he was really pumping himself up for battle, and the second was a small bandoleer of potions he planned to wear that he might want in battle. He could only drink three of them at max before the toxicity got to him, so he'd mostly brought powerful healing potions along with a number of Wrymsbane-infused smoke bombs.

Would that be enough? He couldn't say. Lucas would much rather have a tank or a fighter jet, but he had no idea how to make those.

I wonder if mages have a spell to nuke things? He wondered with a yawn as he started to strip to nap before she arrived this afternoon.