“I’m sure our disciples will be glad to get in on the action, but I’ve already solved the problem of numbers even if nobody volunteers. Plenty of tankmen, both Second and Third-models. Strake, too.”
“Really? How’d you convince him?”
“Dragon nerves for Zero’s drive train.”
“Ah. That makes sense. I never expected that, of all things, nerves and lymphatic fluid would be some of the most magical parts of a dragon. Speaking of…”
He laid out several bottles of Witch’s Brew, then dove back into the cabinet and brought out a box filled with thin, dark-purple sticks.
“First prototype batch for that new high-performance propellant.”
“The stuff made with dragon’s blood?”
“Yeah. It came out as thick paste, so we ran it through a pasta machine and used a dehydration bath to remove any remaining water. I call it Dracofulminate, but collier insists on… What was it again?” he asked, turning to a Kargarian alchemist that Zel didn’t recognize. His typically Kargarian appearance - aggressively well-groomed and adorned with face paint - clashed against the heavy protective apron and gloves that he wore.
“Eisenhaar, half of Eisengeist and half of the old ikesian word for whiskers,” the man answered.
“Right. As you’ve noticed, using these whiskers will leave a great deal of empty space in the shell, and there is a good reason for that, as the propellant reaction is… Not a conflagration, the way it is with any mundane powder. I will not go into the eye-wateringly occult details of what we did or how we did it, but…”
“Why is the whisker design practical?” Zel interrupted, having noticed a rant coming on. Whenever Makhus said he wouldn't get into obscure details, he always inevitably did just that.
“Ah, right. There’s a liquid component, it’s a two-part propellant - Dracofulminate and Black Seven, since it’s black and takes seven cycles in the Philosopher’s Heart. Two more than Fivefold Philter!” he said, exclaiming in disbelief before taking one of the Dracofulminate filaments in his hand. He inhaled, then snapped his fingers and produced a small, white flame, holding the filament in it until it fizzled out from lack of Pneuma to feed on. “As these are, you could toss them in a bonfire and nothing would happen. Even your arm-cannon couldn’t ignite them.”
He turned to the Kargarian, putting the filament back.
“Damlech, check on Fritz, if you would. Bring him if he’s willing, otherwise just take a sample of the Black Seven.”
With a nod, Damlech vanished.
“How did you come up with the formulation so quickly?”
“I just mentioned Fritz. How else did you think? Between him, myself, and the rest of the crew, we spent the last three weeks working on this proto-formulation day in and day out,” he said, gesturing to the handful of alchemists that milled about the laboratory. Some of them were familiar sect members, others were trusted non-members. Two of them were reactor technicians for the city’s in-progress power grid, and another, Zel recognized as the head of research at Collier’s gunpowder manufacturing plant.
“I’ve developed an even greater appreciation for the Philosopher’s Heart… And a reverence for the bodily fluids of Dragon Descendants. For example, the paralytic effect recorded in the Saga of Wide-wuth - nothing to do with a purposeful poisonous quality. Eisengeist’s blood contains volatile Rubedo compounds of such potency that just a brief unprotected exposure, just having a bit of it on your skin, can send you into a seizure, and unlike those suffered by malignant Victory Echoes holders, it’s unlikely to go away quickly. That’s for normal humans of course. Hell, every single source I looked into claims that a dragon descendant’s lymphatic fluid can be used as a youth restoration elixir without any further refinement…”
“You were talking about Black Seven,” she tried to steer him back on-topic.
“Right, right. So Black Seven is refined from his blood, muscle, and certain rare minerals - a very small amount, in fact, the yield is incredible… Though the refinement process is painstakingly time-consuming. While the Dracofulminate is easily made in a few hours, the first batch of Black Seven took the better part of a week. We’ve gotten it down to around three, four days with the third batch. Thank the Dead Ones it doesn’t demand constant supervision like Fivefold Philter.”
The sound of approaching footsteps approached from outside while Makhus talked, and before long, Damlech returned with Fritz in tow.
“It is also… Eh… Incredibly corrosive!” Fritz cut in, with his comically thick Old Ikesian accent. He looked exactly how one would expect an alchemist to look. His hair was wiry and bleached-grey from unprotected exposure to alchemicals, and parts of his face were leather-like from fumes contacting them through the gaps between his goggles and face mask. He had the same mad glint in his eyes as Makhus did at times, but for him, it was constant. Zel knew him well; he just showed up one day after the Blue Moon War, identified himself as Fritzgerald Adolphus Boschhausen of the Fourteen Guardians, and demanded to be employed. After confirming his identity with Kanbu, he became a mainstay of the sect, treating Makhus half like a colleague and half like a young idiot who didn’t know any better. That treatment quickly changed when Makhus proved that he did indeed know better, though Fritz remained staunchly traditional in many of his opinions on alchemy. He claimed the right to use sect facilities for personal purposes as his compensation.
“Truly, the last time I worked with anything this vile has to have been… Well, better not to mention that incident. It is not as if the place still exists but you never know. So! Black Seven,” Fritz continued, bringing a sealed up flask to the table. It had three layers of glass, inscribed with glyphs and with a barrier shimmering between each layer. Inside, an unsettlingly alive-looking black liquid swirled about. “This quantity of Black Seven can be used directly for… I would estimate perhaps twenty shots from Lady Zefaris’ Pentacle, or, alternatively, two shots from your arm-cannon - these are crude estimates, we have only done very limited testing using stand-ins. The volumes may sound like they do not add up, and this is true! The larger shell space and more powerful ignition glyph necessitates a weaker priming compound; yours will be diluted.”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
“I’m sure our disciples will be glad to get in on the action, but I’ve already solved the problem of numbers even if nobody volunteers. Plenty of tankmen, both Second and Third-models. Strake, too.”
“Really? How’d you convince him?”
“Dragon nerves for Zero’s drive train.”
“Ah. That makes sense. I never expected that, of all things, nerves and lymphatic fluid would be some of the most magical parts of a dragon. Speaking of…”
He laid out several bottles of Witch’s Brew, then dove back into the cabinet and brought out a box filled with thin, dark-purple sticks.
“First prototype batch for that new high-performance propellant.”
“The stuff made with dragon’s blood?”
“Yeah. It came out as thick paste, so we ran it through a pasta machine and used a dehydration bath to remove any remaining water. I call it Dracofulminate, but collier insists on… What was it again?” he asked, turning to a Kargarian alchemist that Zel didn’t recognize. His typically Kargarian appearance - aggressively well-groomed and adorned with face paint - clashed against the heavy protective apron and gloves that he wore.
“Eisenhaar, half of Eisengeist and half of the old ikesian word for whiskers,” the man answered.
“Right. As you’ve noticed, using these whiskers will leave a great deal of empty space in the shell, and there is a good reason for that, as the propellant reaction is… Not a conflagration, the way it is with any mundane powder. I will not go into the eye-wateringly occult details of what we did or how we did it, but…”
“Why is the whisker design practical?” Zel interrupted, having noticed a rant coming on. Whenever Makhus said he wouldn't get into obscure details, he always inevitably did just that.
“Ah, right. There’s a liquid component, it’s a two-part propellant - Dracofulminate and Black Seven, since it’s black and takes seven cycles in the Philosopher’s Heart. Two more than Fivefold Philter!” he said, exclaiming in disbelief before taking one of the Dracofulminate filaments in his hand. He inhaled, then snapped his fingers and produced a small, white flame, holding the filament in it until it fizzled out from lack of Pneuma to feed on. “As these are, you could toss them in a bonfire and nothing would happen. Even your arm-cannon couldn’t ignite them.”
He turned to the Kargarian, putting the filament back.
“Damlech, check on Fritz, if you would. Bring him if he’s willing, otherwise just take a sample of the Black Seven.”
With a nod, Damlech vanished.
“How did you come up with the formulation so quickly?”
“I just mentioned Fritz. How else did you think? Between him, myself, and the rest of the crew, we spent the last three weeks working on this proto-formulation day in and day out,” he said, gesturing to the handful of alchemists that milled about the laboratory. Some of them were familiar sect members, others were trusted non-members. Two of them were reactor technicians for the city’s in-progress power grid, and another, Zel recognized as the head of research at Collier’s gunpowder manufacturing plant.
“I’ve developed an even greater appreciation for the Philosopher’s Heart… And a reverence for the bodily fluids of Dragon Descendants. For example, the paralytic effect recorded in the Saga of Wide-wuth - nothing to do with a purposeful poisonous quality. Eisengeist’s blood contains volatile Rubedo compounds of such potency that just a brief unprotected exposure, just having a bit of it on your skin, can send you into a seizure, and unlike those suffered by malignant Victory Echoes holders, it’s unlikely to go away quickly. That’s for normal humans of course. Hell, every single source I looked into claims that a dragon descendant’s lymphatic fluid can be used as a youth restoration elixir without any further refinement…”
“You were talking about Black Seven,” she tried to steer him back on-topic.
“Right, right. So Black Seven is refined from his blood, muscle, and certain rare minerals - a very small amount, in fact, the yield is incredible… Though the refinement process is painstakingly time-consuming. While the Dracofulminate is easily made in a few hours, the first batch of Black Seven took the better part of a week. We’ve gotten it down to around three, four days with the third batch. Thank the Dead Ones it doesn’t demand constant supervision like Fivefold Philter.”
The sound of approaching footsteps approached from outside while Makhus talked, and before long, Damlech returned with Fritz in tow.
“It is also… Eh… Incredibly corrosive!” Fritz cut in, with his comically thick Old Ikesian accent. He looked exactly how one would expect an alchemist to look. His hair was wiry and bleached-grey from unprotected exposure to alchemicals, and parts of his face were leather-like from fumes contacting them through the gaps between his goggles and face mask. He had the same mad glint in his eyes as Makhus did at times, but for him, it was constant. Zel knew him well; he just showed up one day after the Blue Moon War, identified himself as Fritzgerald Adolphus Boschhausen of the Fourteen Guardians, and demanded to be employed. After confirming his identity with Kanbu, he became a mainstay of the sect, treating Makhus half like a colleague and half like a young idiot who didn’t know any better. That treatment quickly changed when Makhus proved that he did indeed know better, though Fritz remained staunchly traditional in many of his opinions on alchemy. He claimed the right to use sect facilities for personal purposes as his compensation.
“Truly, the last time I worked with anything this vile has to have been… Well, better not to mention that incident. It is not as if the place still exists but you never know. So! Black Seven,” Fritz continued, bringing a sealed up flask to the table. It had three layers of glass, inscribed with glyphs and with a barrier shimmering between each layer. Inside, an unsettlingly alive-looking black liquid swirled about. “This quantity of Black Seven can be used directly for… I would estimate perhaps twenty shots from Lady Zefaris’ Pentacle, or, alternatively, two shots from your arm-cannon - these are crude estimates, we have only done very limited testing using stand-ins. The volumes may sound like they do not add up, and this is true! The larger shell space and more powerful ignition glyph necessitates a weaker priming compound; yours will be diluted.”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
