Chapter 10
Lucia passes the rest of the trip to Westfort riding in the back of the cart, huddled under her blanket as she recovers from the incident with the catnip. Luckily, there are no further incidents with Alveric von Strom and his bandits or with Roland dousing her with psychotropic substances. Things are looking up in that regard, at least, meaning that she’s a little less miserable that she might be. It’s important to stay optimistic, after all.
Apolline reins in the horses and the cart comes to a stop, causing Lucia to lurch unsteadily in the back and hit her head on a crate of chemical flasks.
“Ow!”
She groans. So much for optimism. This day cannot end soon enough.
“We have a delivery for Constantine von Braidford,” Apolline tells the guard posted at the entrance to the town. “Alchemy supplies. He ordered them from Middlesbrooke.”
The guard nods and stands aside, allowing the cart to roll into town.
Westfort is the biggest ‘small’ town Lucia has ever seen. Roland and Alda have been talking about it like it’s some tiny backwater village, but you could fit about eight Galganos inside its walls. Of course, living as the Duke’s wards, everything outside the walls of his palace probably feels like a backwater to Roland and Alda.
True to its name, Westfort was originally founded to defend the western road to Middlesbrooke, founded during the early years of Emperor Theobald’s reign. The current town grew up around the original fort and is nowadays known more as a commercial hub than a military outpost. Any traders bound for Middlesbrooke from the west have to pass through Westfort first, so although Westfort is much smaller than Middlesbrooke, the town’s market is always bustling.
Constantine von Braidford is waiting for them on the doorstep of his manor on Westfort’s main road. He is smiling broadly and waving as the cart approaches. Looking at him, Lucia decides that he is likely the second-oldest thing Lucia has seen in the last few days, surpassed only by Great-Uncle Pollux’s vacation house. Unlike the old house, the alchemist from Westfort has aged gracefully and does not seem liable to collapse into dust at the slightest provocation. He is small and stooped and reliant on a walking stick, but he comes down from his doorstep without issue to meet the cart as it arrives.
“Ah, young Master Roland! And Lady Alda. So glad to see you again,” the old man says happily. “Tell me, how is Miss Celeste?”
“She’s, uh, she’s good,” Roland says. “But, wait. Why are you allowed to call her Miss? She gets mad when I do it.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Master Roland,” the old man says.
“Never mind,” Roland mutters.
“Shall we?” the old man asks, taking a step towards the cart. He begins rummaging through the crates and barrels. “Where the devil is my catnip?” he asks. “That’s the most important ingredient! I was going to make a special insect repellant for the alchemy contest.”
“There was a slight mishap,” Apolline says. “We had some trouble with bandits. I’m afraid the catnip didn’t make it.”
“Goodness gracious me!” the old man exclaims. “And here I am complaining about my ingredients! Are the five of you quite alright?”
“Mostly,” Lucia mutters.
“Oh, thank the Powers!” the old man says. “I’m sorry you had to go through something like that on my account.”
“Thank you. We appreciate the concern,” Apolline says
“And yet I still need something for the contest,” the old man mutters, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Well, the Skremmler’s Combustible Powder is undamaged. Hmm, yes. Fireworks it is!”
“Does the name Alveric von Strom mean anything to you?” Apolline asks.
“He’s a fellow member of the Alchemical Society. Did the bandits come after him, too?” the old man asks.
“Ah, no,” Apolline mutters.
“He was the bandits,” Lucia says. “He came after us because he didn’t want you to get your alchemy supplies.”
“The dastard!” the old man exclaims. “The other alchemists will hear of this! Why, I’ll take this all the way to the Duke! I’ll make sure he never practices alchemy in the Duchy of Middlesbrooke ever again, you can be sure of that! And when I next see him, I’ll give him such a thrashing! I’ll give him what-for! I’ll tan his hide! I’ll see to it that he never practices alchemy in the Duchy of Middlesbrooke ever again!”
He concludes with a determined flourish of his walking stick.
“I don’t think that will quite be necessary,” Apolline says. “If we cross paths with him again, I’m sure we can handle ourselves.”
“Let me hire you an escort to see you safely back to Middlesbrooke,” the old man offers. “It’s the least I can do to show you my gratitude for all the trouble you’ve been through.”
Still wrapped in her blanket, Lucia peeks out from the back of the cart.
“But we still get paid, right?” she asks cautiously.
Chapter 9
Chapter 11
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