Chapter 297: Sowing the Seeds

Victory had the whole group itching for a blow-out party that would’ve left them in a pool of suffering the next morning, unfortunately, reality hit hard after they’d cleared out the dungeons.

Victory was theirs, but there was still a lot of work left to do.

Professor Jules arrived shortly after word of their success made it back to the encampment, and she immediately took control of the situation in her very distinctive way. After a verbal report from Watcher Shaw, she organised one and all and set them to a laundry list of tasks.

First, they had to clear the field around the dungeons, still littered with mangled blood-drak and chitterer corpses; the blood-drak blood would’ve been an environmental nightmare if left on the land. If it wasn’t cleaned up soon, it would gradually seep into the ground and putrefy it for years to come. Fortunately, the wizards had ways to clean it up fast.

The Chosen walked the battlefield, calling upon a divine miracle of Uldar: “Oh holy Uldar, bless this earth and remove the corruption spread by our foul enemies.”

Light shed from his hands, sprinkling like rain over the field. Wherever it touched, congealed blood-drak blood steamed away with a scent as sweet as burning incense. Khalik and a group of earth magic users also moved through the field, casting earth magics that filtered toxins and filth from soil, leaving the landscape lush and purified.

In a little more than an hour, all traces of the diseased blood was gone…though an event during the clean up nearly caused Professor Jules to have an apoplexy.

“We have extra protective equipment,” she said, her eyes like flint behind her mask. It was clear that her voice was coming through clenched teeth. “We have masks, gloves, aprons, boots and coats. It would be no trouble for you to wear one, young man.”

“Oh, bah!” Cedric waved his hand, his muscles flexing across his shirtless torso. “I fight like this all the time! Blessin’ o’ Uldar keeps the disease away. Just a little prayer and I’m good to deal with all kinds o’ nasties.”

Professor Jules’ eyes bugged out of her head within the lenses of her beaked mask. “It is always good protocol to have redundancies in protection. There are spells that hedge out gases, but a mask is very effective at ensuring your safety, as is a coat. Safety is no joke, young man!”

Cedric laughed as though she’d made a joke. “I fight terrible beasts near everyday, missus. I think I’ve been in worse spots than dealin’ with a bit o’ dried blood.”

She threw up her hands, muttering to herself and leaving the Chosen to his ways. Cedric blinked. “Was it somethin’ I said?”

The wizards nearby chose not to answer, instead busying themselves with sample collection.

But Professor Jules' irritation didn’t subside, it actually spiked when she came across the commanders’ remains.

“Look at this!” She threw her hands up again. “Just look, pure samples immolated! Cremated! What are you, wizards or ravening barbarians? Who’s responsible for this?”

Alex had to use all of his training in stealth to slip away.

She’d calmed down eventually, though: enough samples of gibbering legion that hadn’t been turned to coal were retrieved, which meant more alchemical knowledge from gibbering legion ash and other bits for the expedition to examine.

There was no such problem obtaining samples from the blood-draks’ cadavres since there were more than enough of them to go around. Jules personally supervised the sterilisation and preparation of each specimen they’d be transporting back to the encampment for dissection. Her eyes seemed to glow with excitement as she examined a sealed container of blood-drak blood. The fluid had been carefully extracted from a gland in the centre of the chest of one of the specimens then treated with an anticoagulant.

“Most remarkable,” she said, then paused as her eye caught sight of Hart. “Young man!”

“Eh?” Hart looked up. He’d been in the middle of carrying several blood-drak bodies he’d slung over his shoulders. He was working with Grimloch, Thundar and Claygon. “Yeah, ma’am?”

“How many diseases would you say are carried in this vector?” she held out the container of blood.

He blinked his large eyes. “Uh…lots?”

“Such as?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, is it plague? Golden fever? The waking sickness? Dragon shingles? Hog warts? Walking livor mortis?” she asked.

“Uh…” He glanced around as though he’d find the answer lying somewhere in the dirt nearby. “...I think it gives you the shits?”

“Aaaaah, Cholerus? Crone’s, or Witch’s Disease, as it’s presently known?”

“...” was Hart’s reply.

“Oh, bah.” She waved a hand at him. “Never mind.”

“Does…does it really matter?”

“Oh no.” Isolde murmured from nearby. She’d been collecting samples and immediately went back to doing so with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Professor Jules froze. “Does it matter? Of course it matters! Diseases

have all manner of interesting applications!” She clutched the jar of dark red liquid, examining it with the eye of a merchant appraising rubies. “They are useful in older forms of ritual magic, their study often generates great medical breakthroughs. Many diseases have interesting alchemical applications if isolated and processed properly.” She went on enthusiastically. “Did you know that the original formula for potions of Stone to Flesh was created from a disease that causes calcification in shellfish?”

Hart blinked.

“And further—”

It was a very long time before the mighty Champion of Thameland managed to escape.

As the clean-up operation wrapped up, Professor Jules was handed a pair of sealed containers, one presented to her by Drestra, and the other by Alex.

“From Thameland to you, a gift from kingdom to kingdom,” the Sage said.

“Ah, yes,” the professor beamed, holding up the containers. “This is the true prize.”

“Can you do much with that?” Drestra asked, her reptilian eyes following the containers sceptically. “We’ve been using them for many cycles. Past Heroes have gone to their graves with dozens of magical items made from this stuff sealed with them in their tombs for all eternity. I thought there’d be great worth in them, but there doesn’t seem to be much besides making our weapons.”

Professor Jules gave an almost evil sounding laugh. “I’m sure your wizards analysed it to the best of their ability…but Generasi has a thousand years of magical and alchemical development behind us, and that’s fuelled by the strongest mana vents in the world. We’ve also had one unique opportunity to study it, but now? Oh, we can discover things now that one can only dream of. I already have some…practical prototypes I’d like to test once the dungeon core substance is fully catalogued.”

“Oh? Such as?” Drestra asked.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be responsible to promise application when studies are in their infancy and hypotheses not even fully generated.” Jules’ eyes twinkled. “Besides, if I announce it now, it would ruin the surprise,” She grinned, then tucked both samples away and left, humming to herself as she went.

“Interesting,” Drestra said, turning to Alex. “Do you have any ideas on what you’ll be doing with the remains?”

His eyes twinkled. “If I say, it might ruin the surprise.”

He also walked away, humming to himself as he went.

“...what in the hells,” he heard Drestra say behind him.

There was a buzz going around about what would be done with the dungeon core remains, but there hadn’t been much time for speculation since everyone was so busy.

There were still monster bodies that needed to be burned and the ashes gathered. They got to work, keeping the finish line in mind.

And finally the last specimen was collected, the field looked healthy and green, and everyone teleported, flew, or was flown back to the encampment. Then, it was time to celebrate!

…is what most wanted.

Reality, again, was cruel.

The moment they got back—as the sun was setting in the evening sky—Jules, Shaw and other high ranking members ushered them into tents. It was time for reports. Lots and lots of reports.

There was paperwork about what had been found in the dungeons to do, including listing identifying features of everything they’d seen. There were reports on Ravener-spawn behaviour to be made. There were catalogues organising every one of the samples collected to be created. There were injury reports.

And more.

Even Alex—with the writing speed he’d gained from practising with the Mark along with the help of several Wizard’s Hands—had so much writing to do, that the smell of ink began to turn his stomach.

“Hah!” Grimloch grinned, showing all of his sharp teeth as he watched Alex, Khalik, Meikara and Isolde wrestling with the demons called ink and parchment. “Pays not to be a student. Hogarth, Svenia! Theresa! Let’s get something to eat. And dri—”

“There you are,” Watcher Shaw seemed to appear out of nowhere, like a prophet about to speak doom. “All rested up?”

Theresa glanced at Hogarth. “Uh—” she started.

“Good,” he said. “There’s work left to be done. No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid. We’re going to get the warriors and mercenaries into teams with some of the fresh wizards and send you back to the moors. The land surrounding those dungeons have to be scouted another time. Don’t want any blood-draks or chitterers hiding in the hills, waiting to ambush us when we turn in. Just a simple scouting mission. It shouldn’t take too long. I expect you all at the gate in ten minutes.”

He moved to step away, then paused. “And I do mean report, there’ll be some paperwork for you when you get back.”

Grimloch—no longer grinning—Theresa, Hogarth and Svenia stared at Watcher Shaw with something not too distantly related to hatred as he left.

“I’m going to eat him,” Grimloch said.

Even Brutus growled in agreement.

After what seemed like a lifetime, everything was at last finished. The moors had been scouted. The reports filed. The samples catalogued. All in all, it had been an incredible amount of work; it was well after dark when the work was finally completed under the glow of magical light.

Professor Jules called the tired group together, floating before the tent as she had been when news of the double dungeons had arrived earlier.

“Well done, one and all. I applaud everyone’s effort. I recognize that you’ve put in some very long hours today, but such sacrifices are often necessary in battle, wizardry, alchemy and other forms of academics,” she said, glancing up at the moon.

While the camp was lit up by a rainbow of magical lights, the moon was full as its light poured down on them. Crickets chirped in the camp and fields beyond its walls, and the sweet scent of campfires drifted through the air.

There was a lot of nervous energy in the air as well: the kind that came from a mix of exhaustion, excitement and nerves. People looked like they wanted to either collapse on the spot, or fling off their clothes and start partying with wild abandon.

For many, it looked like they could go either way.

“Normally, I would say that now would be a good time to get some rest,” Professor Jules continued. “But you are all adults, and it would feel a little…stingy to shuffle you off to bed like young children. For those to whom sleep is calling too loudly to ignore, I’ll bid you all a goodnight. For those who wish to celebrate—”

A cheer started to rise from the expedition.

“—sensibly,” she added. “I’ll have a couple of barrels of wi-”

She glanced at Grimloch.

“....perhaps four barrels of wine teleported from the Brass Grapes through the circle, those who wish to stay awake, can have a quiet celebration, while those who wish to turn in, can do so.”

She looked at the Heroes who were standing a little off to the side. “You’re free to join us, of course! Sharing wine with us would be a much more appropriate celebration for our new partnership than battling in dungeons.”

“Aye, I’ll take y’up on that,” Cedric called. “S’mighty kind o’ you to treat us!”

“Yes,” Drestra said. “It’d be rude to refuse your hospitality.”

“Yeah, thanks! Wine isn’t cheap!” Hart said.

Professor Jules’ smile was cat-like. “We have a very large budget, so only the best. Let’s get some fires going, everyone! Some real fires!”

A memory returned to Alex, of a laughing fairy tale witch who looked very much like Professor Jules riding a skeletal horse during the Festival of Ghosts. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be going to bed.

Her smile broadened as a cheer went through the encampment.

“Well, you all can celebrate,” Isolde said, stifling a yawn. “If I were to take one whiff of wine, I am fairly sure I would be unconscious in under five heartbeats.”

“Awww come on,” Thundar coaxed. “Don’t be like that, have a drink with us.”

“Indeed!” Khalik spread his hands. “We fought together. Risked our lives together. Would it not be proper now to celebrate together? This is our first victory over this ancient menace after all, and the first step of our research. You cannot abandon us, Isolde.”

She looked guilty for a moment.

“Peeeer pressure, peeeeer pressure,” Alex chanted, pumping his fists like an excited child.

She rolled her eyes then looked at Theresa. “Please talk some sense into your boyfriend and his friends.”

Theresa shrugged, putting an arm around Isolde. “You’re drinking with us. That’s it.”

The taller woman paused, her eyes flicking toward the Heroes. “...ah well, fine then. But if I cannot rise in the morning, you all will be to blame!”

Thundar and Khalik cheered as Alex followed Isolde’s gaze.

The Heroes were speaking to each other in hushed tones, and Cedric was looking their way. Alex’s eyes met those of the Chosen for a moment.

There was something in Cedric’s gaze. An unspoken question.

Alex had a feeling that question would be coming soon.