The Autocraft Alchemist

Calvin squinted against the spotlight that shone down onto him and only him. He was sitting in what he had taken to calling the interrogation room. His limbs were bound to the arms and legs of the chair he sat in. And there was a small table in front of him. Otherwise the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. People came and went, each one taking a turn at him. They never gave him their names. And always wanted just one thing, information.

"Where is the head office of your guild?" one of them asked.

"Where are you hiding the people that you kidnapped?"

"What are the names of your officers?" Another appeared to ask.

"What rank did you have in your guild?"

"What plans did you have for the crafters?" One of the ones from before.

"How many people disappeared in the dungeons because of you?"

An endless barrage of meaningless words. It didn't matter what questions they asked him. It didn't matter what they promised him. He wouldn't talk. If he did, there would be no way to get away from the guild leader and his assassins. The only way to live a little longer was to keep silent. To keep his mouth shut.

Every time he found himself alone in the interrogation room Calvin would try and press his senses out as far as they would go. Looking for a chance. But there was always a shuffle that could be heard here or a sniff or cough there. Even though it looked like he was alone, there was always someone watching him.

His neck chafed where the collar they forced on him rubbed against the skin. While he might have been able to over power one or two of his questioners. All it would take to put him down was the device inside of the collar. They had shown him how on the first day when he tried to push back. A flick of a switch and he would be on the ground out cold. It was quite handy of a tool to have, and was something that he wished his guild had thought of.

High level crafters often needed high level minders. Which often led to problems. No one who had spent any reasonable amount of time exploring, and gaining levels, would want to be stuck on babysitting duty. And since those in red guilds were often… less selective of the sadistic impulses that they ignored it led to problems. No matter how cowed someone might appear to be, there was always a breaking point. And they had lost over enthusiastic elites to prisoners that had been thought to be harmless.

When the day finally ended they stuffed him back into a cell. It was solid enough that Calvin didn't want to spend any goodwill trying to punch his way out of it. And instead he hunkered down for the night. While they were probably planning to keep him there until he broke. There might one day come a chance where he could make an escape. Maybe his guild would also come for him. He laughed at how ridiculous the idea sounded.

***

Axtar felt the sweat run down his brow. It felt good, his body was warm and enjoying the exertion. He put it out of his mind as he refocused on the warrior in front of him. Facing off with Kinaze was never easy. As the orc was one of the strongest in the tribe. Of course that didn't mean that Axtar, as the strongest in the tribe, would lose.

They postured back and forth in slow movements to try and tempt the other into attacking first. Those who were quick to action often missed what was around them. And it was best to temper that. Axtar won the mental battle and Kinaze moved just a little too far forward. Kinaze quickly realized his mistake and let loose a roar of challenge as he committed to the attack.

Axtar met him with a step and the two orcs slammed into one another. Pushing against each other's bodies. The sweat had made them slick and grabs were harder to land or hold. Kinaze pushed hard with his shoulder, something that had become a bit of a habit of late. Something that Axtar could punish the younger orc for. But in a surprise move Kinaze also attacked with his leg at the last second. It was a move that Axtar should have been able to respond to. Only he was a beat behind as his body lagged behind his thoughts. Since he was late to defend it was Axtar that ended up on the ground.

Kinaze threw both of his arms into the air and roared his victory. As was tradition. While Axtar shook his head and chuckled to himself. It didn't happen often, but losses were part of life. He knew that. Had been taught that in his youth. Though he found that it still stung when he fell short against someone he should have beaten in a spar.

Axtar took the hand that was offered to him and Kinaze pulled him to his feet. "Good spar Axtar. I had a feeling that one of these days I would best you."

"Ah. I had wondered when you were going to figure things out. If you only use your upper body then you are only using half of your body. And that's half of the force, half of the attacks that you could be using."

The younger orc nodded sagely at the words Axtar had spent without thought. To stomp on Kinaze's win would be to try and tear him down. If instead a compliment made him a bit of a better fighter then it was worth it. "Come and see the trophy that I have prepared from the browntails. I had the honor of slaying the largest one of the pack. The scars it gave me have scabbed well and will tell tales of its strength. My mate declared its meat as the sweetest she had tasted."

"Truely? I missed most of that battle. Chasing down the curs in the winding tunnels they tend to hide in. I would have liked to have fought with a few more myself."

"But you did fight against some, right? Any more than that would be too greedy."

"Perhaps you are right. I wish that there were more foes to raid in these new lands we find ourselves in. Too many mindless beasts and snow for my liking. There is talk about the orcs that came from the south and how weak they are. Talking about doing away with the old ways. The ways that we have lived by since before our grandfathers were babes," Kinaze said and spit to the side.

"In the spring we will test them. If they are weak, then they will only serve to make us stronger," Axtar said and looked around. The two of them were standing in one of the many sparring spots that had been placed around the ruins they had found. A necessary thing for orcs who respected strength above all else. Since they appeared to be alone, Axtar leaned in and spoke low, "A warrior's promise on my next words."

Kinaze looked at Axtar for a moment and nodded. "A warrior's promise. I won't speak of your words on the pain of never seeing another battle."

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Axtar returned the nod. "Scouts have found more of the lightskins. The ones to the west fought harder than anyone the orcs have fought." Hard enough that they needed to flee. The words stayed unsaid. And the fierce look on Kinaze's face showed that he knew what Axtar had been about to say. "We will war against them in the spring as well. To test their mettle against our own." As well as to regain lost honor.

Kinaze didn't say a word. But his expression had changed to one of excitement and his eyes glinted. "Best news I've heard in a long time," he belted out a laugh, "now let's see this trophy."

They relocated to the hut that Axtar had cobbled together with material from the ruins. Here and there was green wood that he had taken from the forests that surrounded their new home. While the rest of it was built with material from the fallen down buildings that had already been there.

"Your house looks sturdy," Kinaze said. A standard compliment for anything that looked like it would last more than a season. They didn't need much more than that since next year they would be wintering in another place. Axtar smiled at the complement and then the two of them ducked under the low doorway and went inside.

Hanging from the rafters was a massive browntail skull. The sizable incisors had been polished. And several herbs had been hung alongside to prevent the soul of the previous inhabitant from lingering on. While blood runes had been painted onto it to force the vitality it once had into the health of the household.

Kinaze sucked in a breath of air when he first saw it. "A fine example. It will keep you and your family hearty and hale for the entire breadth of winter. Its size is twice that of the ones that I had felled."

Axtar rolled his eyes at the high praise. While it had been larger than the others, it hadn't been by as much as Kinaze suggested. "Right. I made sure to only stab at its vitals. Which left the skull intact and whole. Though there are some cracks in the bones. Probably put there by the duels the beast must have held against its kind in order to hold the power it once did." He opened his mouth to say more but a fit of coughing took over him.

Kinaze looked on and patted Axtar on the back. "You may need what health it can bring you. This cold land…"

Axtar waved him off. "It sometimes happens of late," his voice was harsh,"one or twice and then not again for some time." He grabbed the ladle to the water pot and drank. "It shouldn't be anything that I haven't beaten before. The sickness will make me stronger."

"If it doesn't fell an orc, then it was too weak in the first place," Kinaze agreed with him.

They fussed over the skull for a few moments more. On his way out Kinaze swore that he would someday win against a larger browntail. And then they made a promise to spar again on the next day.

***

Calvin plopped onto the hard bed in his cell and slouched against the wall. The questioning had been getting to him. With barely enough time to sleep. The constant push for information that refused to take no as an answer. Each and every day. Each and every waking moment.

It was getting to the point where he felt like it would be best to come clean with what he knew. Just to get them off of his back. There hadn't been any contact made with him from the guild. Which was expected. But each day he felt himself hope a little more that a happy end would appear from somewhere.

He laughed at the thought that appeared in his mind. That it would have been easier if his captors used tougher methods like they had at the guild. Someone didn't want to play by their rules? Violence. Plain and simple. People would break soon enough. And it was something that he was familiar with. Something that he knew and perhaps could hold against better than the isolation and barrage of questions.

Calvin awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep against the wall and his shoulders were telling him just how unhappy the position had made them. He looked around his cell and found that something felt off. Not that there was much more than a bed and a toilet. And it was only after several moments he finally noticed what it was.

There was no light streaming in from the door.

While the sides were perfectly sealed. The guards had taken to leaving the eye slit open to shine in a single beam of light. If it was mercy or punishment Calvin wasn't sure. Though it could have been both. Total darkness with a beam of light. Salvation given to the sinner in his moment of need.

There was a scuff sound that came from outside of his door. Something that shouldn't have happened. From what Calvin could tell, his internal clock read that it was in the middle of the night. The guards used cameras for most of their work. And there shouldn't have been, couldn't have been, someone out there.

Calvin stood from his bed and looked to the door. To where he thought that the eye slit should have been. It was hard to tell in the darkness. And the chill crawling up his spine made him feel like there was someone looking in. Looking through him and everything that he had been and was to be. The thought felt silly enough that he should have been laughing. Only no noise escaped from his lips.

While every sense and bit of logic he had was telling him that he was still alone, Calvin spoke, "I haven't said anything. I won't say anything." His voice was little more than a whisper.

"I know," came the reply.

***

Chuck slammed the empty takeout container into the trash bin. Then ripped open the fridge door and grabbed a whole bottle of wine. He twisted the cap off and threw it at the sink, missed, and it scattered somewhere the cleaning staff probably never would find. Not that they have been by recently. He then washed down the crappy delivery food with a big gulp of white wine.

But he didn't care. Everything that he had worked for had been taken from him. Everything that he earned was stolen. Just who did they think he was? Someone they could just walk all over like that? He'd see them in court for wrongful dismissal. It didn't matter how much money they offered him, it would never be enough.

And then he would find a way to get back to them. He still had his connections. Some in the guild, and some in others. Buyers and sellers of dungeon drops. It would only be a matter of time before he would be the one putting the squeeze onto the Crafter's Union. They missed their boat with him, and he'd sink them for it.

His phone made a noise. Chuck put down the half empty bottle of wine. And glared across his condo at where it rested on the coffee table in the living room. When it pinged again he sighed and went and picked it up. The messages that had appeared were from his Uncle Charles, his mother's brother.

"Chuck. When are you coming home?" read the first one. "I heard that you had been removed from your position. Is that the success that you said you would show me when you left?"

"Please leave me to live my own life Uncle. I have other plans in place now. And will work my way back up. Bigger and better than before."

"Oh Nephew. We have a role already in place for you now. You knew the terms that we had. And now you need to keep good on your end of the bargain."

Chuck stomped his foot against the floor. Of course his uncle had someone watching him. Just who was it? He paced the living room several times, kicking the discarded food and drink containers to the side.

His phone pinged again. And he started to regret giving his Uncle a happy sounding message tone. "Someone will be there to pick you up soon. To bring you back to Alark where your home and family is."

Chuck didn't even bother with trying to pack a bag. He grabbed his wallet and rushed to the door to his condo. His uncle wasn't one for using half measures. But with any luck he would have time to make it to the stairs and then maybe down a few floors. That should be enough to throw off anyone that had been sent for him.

Only when he opened his door his uncle's minder was already there waiting for him. "Hello Chuck. Time to come home," he said with a smile. Chuck considered making for the stairs but knew that he would never out pace the high level explorer. His shoulders slumped as he realized that he had once again fallen under Charles' thumb.