Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 5

Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“This is...an ice house?”

A misty sigh rose from Miss LeNez. What annoyed Frianne even more was the look of pity the Alchemist cast in her direction.

“Is that all you can see?” Miss LeNez asked, “Something to be used? Why not recognise it for what it is?”

“It’s cold!” Dimoiya sneezed.

Dimoiya had cast an Endure Elements enchantment on herself, so she shouldn’t have been affected by the temperature. Frianne couldn’t help but agree with Dimoiya’s sentiment, however, as their surroundings were caked in rime. The workshop was magically illuminated, but the magical light sources didn’t emit heat and only served to make everything seem that much colder.

“Yeah, it’s crazy cold!” Miss LeNez said, “But why do you think that is?”

“Are you storing–”

“Enough of that, already!”

Why else would they freeze a warehouse?

Temperature control items were obnoxiously abundant in the Sorcerous Kingdom, so Frianne’s first thought was that they were now experimenting with cold storage. While ice houses were common in the Empire, they were completely mundane in their workings. If one wanted to preserve food using magical means, they would use a preservation item instead.

There were some odd items from outside of the Empire like the magical ‘fridges’ that sometimes appeared in Arwintar’s markets, but their application didn’t make much sense. It was like taking two steps to achieve a goal instead of one and she suspected that many of the magical appliances that appeared from beyond the Great Steppe only made it to the Empire because they were just plain idiotic and thus wouldn’t sell wherever they were made.

Well, they’re supposedly an idea from that Boastful Sage, after all. Very few of his ideas make any sense.

Frianne examined the room as the Alchemist awaited a satisfactory response. As far as equipment went, it was furnished similarly to the previous workshop. The workspaces were free of the ice that caked the walls, but a coating of frost still built up on anything that the Alchemists working within weren’t handling.

That’s actually a bit strange...

Was it simply due to Warden’s Vale being so humid and the workshop being so bitterly cold? Winters in Arwintar were dry and mild so it was rare to see any ice and snow at all.

“It’s those!” Dimoiya pointed.

In the centre of the room, in a clearing on the floor, were a handful of small crystals. They were cordoned off by a set of ropes, but were otherwise left out in the open.

“It is those!” Miss LeNez nodded.

“What are they?” Dimoiya asked.

“Elemental Ice.”

“Elemental Ice?” Frianne started, “Leaving it out like that is dangerous! Elemental Ice needs to be stored in specialized containers.”

It was no wonder that the room was frozen. Did they not have basic safety procedures?

“This is the special container,” Miss LeNez gestured to the workshop around them.

“But why would you do something like this?” Frianne asked, “You’ve created a hazardous workspace.”

“We’ve created the ideal workspace,” the Alchemist corrected her.

“If you wanted to work with Elemental Ice, you could have stored it in a small case and brought it out when you needed it. What you’re doing here is reckless!”

“Why?”

Why? The answer seemed abundantly obvious from the frozen surroundings.

“As I said, you’ve created a hazardous workspace. The floors are slippery and everything is covered in ice. You’ll damage your equipment and injure your apprentices.”

“That’s a sacrifice we’re willing to make,” Miss LeNez shrugged. “The equipment in this workshop is manufactured in Warden’s Vale, so it’s easily replaceable. And it isn’t as if we don’t make hundreds of potions a day next door...”

This is madness. It’s clear that–

Frianne’s frown deepened as she looked at the Apprentices working at their benches. Unlike the disinterested expressions that their colleagues wore in the ‘plain’ workshop, they wore the intense looks that she often saw on the faces of her fellows in the Imperial Ministry of Magic when they were conducting research.

“Then what is it that you’re trying to accomplish here?” Frianne asked.

Miss LeNez sent a look at Ludmila, who nodded silently in return.

“First of all,” the Alchemist said, “you’ve received a certain level of security clearance to be allowed in here, so I trust that anything we share with you will be treated as confidential.”

“Of course,” Frianne replied. “We have similar procedures at the Imperial Ministry of Magic.”

“You work for the Imperial Ministry of Magic?”

“I’m the new Head Court Mage.”

A sense of satisfaction filled Frianne as Miss LeNez stared at her blankly. At least until the Alchemist spoke again.

“Oh. Anyway, in this workshop, we’re attempting to prove certain elements – no pun intended – of something that we call Unified Mana Theory. Through this theory, we hope to explain the true workings of the world.”

It was a very Alchemist-like avenue of exploration. They always sought to prove one fundamental aspect of the world or the other and their insatiable appetite for research funding was a constant headache for the Ministry’s budget. It was undoubtedly the same in Warden’s Vale. The little pile of Elemental Ice on the floor was worth a small fortune.

“And what about this theory are you trying to prove here?”

“Well, we’re starting from nothing,” the Alchemist replied, “so this workshop is trying to qualify the properties of ice mana.”

“Ice mana?”

“That’s what we’re calling it for now. Some people assert that it’s a combination of water and air, but that doesn’t explain the ‘cold’ part of it.”

“If you’re talking about the Elemental Axis,” Frianne said, “that’s already a well-known concept.”

“Well-known,” Miss LeNez said, “but not well-explored. Those familiar with the Elemental Axis only accept it as a truth in itself. One that doesn’t affect people’s daily lives.”

“And you propose that it does...”

“The Faculty of Alchemy proposes that it is everything. Our cosmology. That the world and within it is the physical manifestation of its mana. Oh, and by ‘mana’ we don’t mean the mana used to cast spells, though it’s likely related in some as-yet-unknown way. We’re referring to the primal energies that govern all of existence. Primal mana, so to speak.”

“I feel like you’re starting from the middle of the explanation,” Frianne said. “Could we get the background on this Unified Mana Theory?”

“I feel like we’re barely at the beginning, but sure. Hmm...to begin with, let’s talk about souls...no, that’s too complicated.”

It was beginning to feel like she was talking to the former Head Court Mage. Those discussions never really got anywhere and most people simply assumed that his intellect and knowledge were simply beyond them. That didn’t excuse the fact that nothing useful ever came out of his ramblings, however.

“Warden’s Vale is the main inspiration for our exploration of Unified Mana Theory,” Miss LeNez said. “It is, in essence, the perfect place for a colossal field study with its well-defined elemental gradients. One could say that it is similar to the Katze Plains.”

“But why a barrel hoop?”

The Alchemist’s head turned to Ludmila.

“When we were still prototyping the item,” Ludmila said, “Miss LeNez asked for easy-to-produce masterwork items that she could experiment on. I went to Smith Kovalev and he was making barrel hoops at the time.”

“They called them ‘heating hoops’ back then,” Miss LeNez snickered. “The villagers didn’t understand how they worked at all so they equated it to a little magical fire somehow. Some people tried to cook with theirs by putting a pot inside their hoop. Others put the hoops in their stoves thinking it would light their furniture on fire. You can stick the darn things anywhere, though. It doesn’t even need to be in a hoop.”

It was no wonder that she could never figure out what was regulating the temperature in their rooms and carriages. In the Empire, magic items were a prestige symbol, so even temperature-regulating items served as display pieces. The barrel hoops, on the other hand, could be hidden almost anywhere.

“It didn’t take my people long to get used to them,” Ludmila said. “And they can adapt to anything new these days.”

“Which is disappointing. Entertainment is a precious commodity here.”

“I’d like to revisit a point that you mentioned earlier today,” Frianne said. “These apprentices look like they’re working just as they would in the Empire. How does your system differ from the conventional guild system, if so?”

Enchanting magic items could take days, weeks, or even months. The apprentices wouldn’t have time for anything else if that was the case.

“Education here is divided in curriculum and practicum,” Ludmila said. “Similar to what you saw in Corelyn Harbour, we’ve incorporated elements from the classroom-based system that Director Alpha proposed and the existing Guild system to fashion a public education system run by the government. The practicum here strikes a balance between the things that one’s mana is used for.”

“Students have a contractual obligation to use one-third of their monthly mana for company work,” Miss LeNez said. “They get their share of the profits for that, of course. The rest may be used at their discretion, but I think most new apprentices put almost all of their mana into their work.”

“Why is that?” Frianne asked.

“Training,” Miss LeNez shrugged. “We’re mainly followers of The Six here, after all. Apprentices take work orders that give them a suitable challenge and keep filling it until it isn’t anymore. Then they find the next challenging work order and do that one."

“Then what's with all of the bored looks?” Dimoiya asked.

“Ah...the problem is material procurement for magic items. Our most advanced apprentices are trying to come up with new formulas using locally-sourced materials, but, until we figure those out, we’re reliant on imports. Since Shrouds of Sleep are produced by the Faculty of Necromancy, the next step up from Heating Hoop for us would be preservation items and magical lighting...except we’re sort of sucking the region dry of reagents.”

Frianne nodded knowingly, then stopped.

Wait a minute...

“The Empire is experiencing an extreme shortage of low-grade rubies,” she said. “Is that your doing?”

“...prooooobably.”

Frianne was shocked to find out about the shortage upon assuming her post as the Head Court Mage and bringing herself up to speed on everything. No one ever expected the relatively cheap and abundant gemstones to dry up like that. It was akin to opening a granary, only to find out that it had been emptied by rodents.

“It seems that the Sorcerous Kingdom will be plunging the Empire into darkness, after all,” Frianne muttered.

“How terrible,” Miss LeNez yawned. “Would you like to buy some magical lighting at a perfectly reasonable price?”

“How bad is the situation?” Ludmila asked, “We rely on Merchants to import goods and they send things our way so long as they can make a profit.”

“I sent a memorandum to the mining interests around the country,” Frianne said, “but it will only mitigate the problem somewhat. After inquiring with a few Merchants, I discovered that we’ll see low-grade rubies priced as highly as high-grade rubies by the end of the year.”

“I take that back,” Miss LeNez said. “Lady Zahradnik, as your business consultant, I recommend that we freeze all exports related to the imperial shortages until the end of the year. We’re not reliant on export revenues to survive, so this is an incredible opportunity.”

“I’m glad that our magic items don’t use food as reagents,” Last Zahradnik shook her head. “We may have induced a famine. I suppose this is as good a test as any...”

Frianne’s eyelid twitched at Ludmila’s ominous words.

“Test?”

“Hm? Oh, we’re not testing the Empire. Well, we might be, but that’s not what I was referring to. I was talking about a system that was implemented recently as a result of profit-seeking behaviour. You saw a bit of it earlier with Miss Gran’s migrants.”

“You mean where the Vampire dominated those women?” Frianne asked.

“Yes,” Ludmila answered with a nod. “Goods like the Heating Hoop used to be sold at cost in our outlets in an effort to give the citizens access to affordable magic items. A certain Merchant caught wind of that and started buying out shipments to resell in Arwintar.”

“Did they use the profits to drain the Empire of rubies so you could make more magic items for them to buy?” Dimoiya asked.

Ludmila gave Dimoiya a long, unreadable stare. Dimoiya scurried behind Rangobart.

“Why am I the expendable one?” Rangobart asked.

“Get pregnant and I’ll reconsider!” Dimoiya answered. “Why are you about to eat me after I said that, anyway? It makes perfect logical sense!”

“Only to a Merchant who cannot see beyond simple-minded profit motives,” Ludmila replied. “The point was that a program was put in motion to improve our citizens’ quality of life with magic items. Making it seem like reagents were abundant and easily procured hides the fact that the program was unsustainable at the rate that it was being carried out. Not only did those activities obscure that critical fact, but it hurt our client state in the process.”

“At least the Empire won’t collapse if magical lighting gets expensive for a few years,” Frianne offered.

“Which is why I said we were lucky it wasn’t food,” Ludmila sighed. “Trade can certainly be convenient, but it also puts distance between the source of any given thing and its purchaser. If a contract is offered, one assumes that supply exists. The Merchant tasked with fulfilling that contract will endeavour to fulfil their contract in the most profitable manner. The fact that procurement can involve a long chain of Merchants makes it even harder to keep track of.”

“Why does that matter?” Dimoiya asked, “You still got what you needed faster than you would otherwise have, right?”

“Because I must now consider if the rubies that I purchased are stained in the blood of a child slave worked to death in some dark, distant mine because I inadvertently drove the price of rubies up in my desire to improve our citizens’ quality of life and their taskmasters decided that a few dead children was worth the profit. The Sorcerous Kingdom has expressed a desire to develop mutually beneficial relationships with those who choose to amicably interact with us – becoming a parasitic existence that spreads suffering throughout the world runs counter to His Majesty’s mandates.”

“But if it comes down to the well-being of your people versus the well-being of outsiders,” Rangobart said, “as a Noble, would you not choose your own subjects?”

“I would if it was a matter of survival,” Ludmila said, “but it’s not. The lives of our citizens have only ever improved since the annexation of E-Rantel and they are solidly on their way to getting better. To trample lives simply because one wants to make an already luxurious life slightly more so a little bit faster is an unquestionably evil act. At least from a Human perspective – a Red Dragon would likely say the opposite.”

“Does that stance hold true for the Sorcerous Kingdom’s expectations of the Empire, as well?” Frianne asked.

“Those are my personal views,” Ludmila answered. “And they reflect how I’ve decided to rule. The Sorcerous Kingdom’s approval or disapproval of each of the Empire’s actions is something that the Empire will have to find out on its own.”

Not that we would ever want to...

Her cousin would probably faint on the spot if he received a missive indicating any kind of disapproval from the Sorcerous Kingdom. Even completely normal communiques from their suzerain could make him double over with stomach pains.

“Master!”

A voice sounded from behind them. A brown-robed Apprentice appeared in the doorway.

“Did you leave the door to the Ice House open again?” He said in an exasperated voice, “There’s frost everywhere!”

“Ah, my bad,” Miss LeNez said.

“Ice House?” Frianne frowned at the Apprentice.

“The workshop across the corridor,” the Apprentice explained. “It reminds everyone of an ice house, so we ended up calling it that.”

Frianne’s head whipped around to look at Miss LeNez. Miss LeNez looked away.

“Master LeNez,” Frianne smiled, “may I Fireball you just once? I promise it will hurt.”