With Aura and Mare gone, Ainz finished unpacking. He spent some time
gazing absently at the ceiling, occasionally checking the note in his hand.
Killing time.
There hadn't been that much to unpack, and he was soon done.
Finalizing the interior coordination would require their input.
He'd expected someone would come by soon, but no one had.
Ainz glanced back at his notes.
This contained a list of things he expected to happen here and how to
deal with them. Nowhere on the list was the scenario "nobody comes at
all."
He had to admit he'd already uncovered a major gap in his projections.
This realization itself was not particularly shocking. Ainz considered
himself a thoroughly average mind, and his planning abilities were simply
not up to the task. What mattered was how he would recover from this.
He could think of two approaches offhand. First, just sit and wait. The
second was get up and go out.
He opted for the former. Didn't want to accidentally miss them.
For a while, Ainz waited, doing nothing in particular. Just as he was
starting to fear he'd made the wrong choice, a young dark elf finally poked
her head in the door. This was a very tight-knit village, and no one
considered this rude. Her eyes met Ainz's, and she looked a bit surprised.
That seemed odd to him.
Why would his presence be surprising?
Or maybe this is a natural reaction to poking your head in someone's
house—loaner or not—and finding them staring right at you. But given how
they act around one another, I somehow doubt that.
The young woman bobbed her head at him, then turned her eyes to the
floor. She stepped inside and set down the plate she'd brought.
Dark elves wore shoes even inside the elf trees. Ainz privately thought it
a bit weird to put dishes of food down on the floor, but they also sat there to
eat—from what he'd seen, less than half of them used tables—so maybe
this was considered normal.
There was something else on his mind now.
Ainz and the woman were already quite close to each other. Another
step or two and she could have handed the dish right to him. But she'd set it
on the floor without a word. Their eyes never met again after she'd first
stepped in.
Ainz knew what that meant.
She had no intention of speaking to him.
This didn't appear to be a gesture of hostility, scorn, loathing, or
anything negative like that. The way she'd set the dish down had been
perfectly polite. Perhaps she was just…a poor communicator.
Or maybe it's an overabundance of caution. An adult comparable to
Aura in power—one they know little about. A measure of caution is
commendable. Especially when you consider the gender difference. But I
brought gifts to avoid giving any standoffish impressions and put on a
whole performance… Dang. Not sure what to do.
He didn't know if this woman had children and didn't want the village
women—especially the mothers—telling their kids not to play with the
twins.
Children ignored what their parents said all the time, but they also
listened.
Ainz thought a moment and decided he wasn't getting anywhere fast.
If I don't know why she's acting this way or how she feels, there's
nothing I can do. I don't know how she normally behaves, so speculation is
useless. No need to rush to a conclusion.
Once she'd finished setting the dish down, she bowed her head and left
the elf tree. Ainz bowed his head in return.
Left alone again, he let a long sigh slip out.
He'd failed to ask.
He couldn't bring himself to confront her about her behavior. Even if
he'd let that pass without comment, there'd been other questions or
conversations he'd wanted to have. But the wall between them was so
obvious, it had made him instinctively recoil.
He would just have to hope the next person would be more receptive.
Waiting for them to come to him seemed more productive than trying to
break through that woman's barriers.
Putting the thought out of his mind, he turned his attention to the food
she'd left—which brought back memories of being Satoru Suzuki.
I was wrong! It's still not too late! I need to take action before it
becomes a problem!
That was how it went at work.
It hurt less to report a mistake to the boss right away than wait for it to
be discovered. What seemed like a huge blunder often turned out to be not
that big a deal after all. But left unchecked, the wound often festered.
And right now, he had several things he needed to communicate to the
dark elves.
Ainz got up and hustled out of the elf tree.
He soon found the retreating woman. Dark elves—or elves in general—
had better hearing than humans, so she'd likely heard him coming after her
and had already started to turn.
"—Excuse me."
"Y-yes?"
He must have spoken a moment too quickly and startled her; her voice
was a squeak.
"About the welcome banquet "
" Please bring that up with the elders."
She spoke quite quickly, almost on top of him.
Ainz suspected there was something she didn't want to admit or was
actively hiding. Could it be a surprise party? That was the only thing Ainz
could think of.
It was pretty weird to try and make a welcome banquet a surprise, but
maybe that was how dark elves did things, and he was better off just
ignoring that little detail.
"Okay, so…I'm not sure what you call it in this village, but I'm
currently on a Kayoukazen's Lament."
"A…Kayoukazen's Lament?"
"Yes, you've heard of it?"
The name and the practice itself were both things Ainz had made up, so
she couldn't possibly know it—a fact rather undermined by her response.
"Er, um…no, well… I might have… Yes! It may or may not ring a bell."
This rattled Ainz. Did they have a similar phrase? Then this whole thing
could backfire. Especially if their term referred to something bad. He had
no clue how he'd wriggle out of that one.
But since the word lament itself was often used when mourning
someone, perhaps that alone suggested what he meant. Since Kayoukazen
was a word he had pulled out of thin air, he should be able to imbue it with
whatever meaning he needed to cover all contingencies.
Incidentally, Ainz hadn't learned the word lament at work but from a
skill name in Yggdrasil. He'd gotten curious about what it meant and
looked it up.
"Uh, really? No, that makes sense. We're all dark elves. Perhaps we do
share the term. But we can't be sure it means the same thing without further
explanation."
"Y-yes, that's a good point. I feel like I've heard the term before, but I
can't be sure it's the same Kayoukazen."
They were both talking a bit too fast, and their smiles were noticeably
strained. Ainz's face was an illusion, so it didn't actually move that much.
"At any rate, this month I'm mourning those I've lost, so I'd rather
avoid anything as festive as a banquet. Naturally, I respect your village's
customs, so if you insist I make an appearance, I'm willing to do so—just
be aware that I won't be consuming anything."
"Ah, you're in mourning? Fasting is completely understandable, then."
Is it? Ainz thought, nodding anyway.
"In any case, I'd like to inform the elders. Do you know where I can find
them?"
"I—I can pass along word for you."
"Oh? Then…thank you! Please do!!"
The way the woman had been talking, Ainz had assumed he'd have to
go himself, but he wasn't about to point that out. Not even to double-check.
Her proposal was very convenient, so he took her up on it.
Now all he had to do was beat a quick retreat before she changed her
mind.
He bid her farewell with a speed that left her blinking. Ignoring her
reaction, Ainz rushed back to their lodgings. Fortunately, she didn't call out
or try to stop him.
Once safely back inside, he picked up the dish she'd left on the floor.
It was heavily laden—though still easy to lift by Ainz's standards—with
a massive amount of food. Clearly more than three people could consume.
The likely intention was to provide six servings. Morning and evening
meals for three. That went a long way to explaining the sheer volume, but it
still seemed like a lot. Maybe that was simply because Satoru Suzuki had
never been a big eater, and since becoming Ainz, he'd become unable to eat
anything at all. Perhaps this wouldn't seem too much to anyone else.
Living in a place like this, you likely need a substantial calorie intake.
There are no nutritionally complete food products.
The meal consisted of cooked meats—just roasted with no
accoutrements, by the looks of it—and dried fruits. These were paired with
some sort of leafy salad. There was also something that resembled mashed
potatoes accompanied by a variety of nuts. And what appeared to be fried
caterpillars. Rather large ones.
In Aura's opinion, none of it tasted good. And since the ingredients and
recipes never changed, she quickly got sick of it.
On the other hand, all this new food whetted Ainz's curiosity.
What would these things taste like?
Insects were high in protein, and Satoru Suzuki had often eaten them in
his previous life—albeit coated in barbecue flavoring. However, he'd never
eaten a whole plump roasted caterpillar before.
Once again regretting his body's inability to eat, he went down a floor
and set the tray on a shelf. Then he considered his next move.
They don't seem to have a concept of lunch, so the kids' games shouldn't
be stopping anytime soon.
If the children had chores to do, their playtime might be limited, but
plenty of people knew Ainz had asked them to play with the twins. In all
likelihood, the adults would let the kids play all day today, at least.
That meant Aura and Mare would not be back for a while. Ainz should
use this time to pursue whatever interested him.
He'd walked—well, flown—around the village under cover of Perfect
Unknowable but hadn't done so while visible. Maybe he'd discover
something new. And he had a destination in mind.
I already laid the groundwork for it, too.
He plucked his notes—unlike the previous note, these were in a proper
notebook—out of thin air (his item box) and attempted to memorize what
was written there.
Namely, how to create potions and what herbs and minerals went into
them.
Unfortunately, Ainz's brain was incapable of retaining more than two or
three brewing recipes. Feeble as his mind might be, that was hardly the sole
problem. As expected, the techniques described were rather detailed and
quite difficult to memorize for someone without knowledge or interest in
the fundamentals of potion making.
He put the notebook away and spent a minute muttering the recipe under
his breath. Then he left the elf tree again, making his way across the village.
A number of dark elves spotted Ainz coming and looked his way. They
weren't watching out for him; they were just going about their business and
regarding him with interest and curiosity.
If any one of them saw through the illusion, it would be a real headache,
but fortunately, it didn't seem like anyone here was skilled enough. If they
were, they would've kicked up a fuss the moment he arrived.
Yet, none of the villagers were attempting to speak to him.
Were isolated villages like this just inherently standoffish when dealing
with outsiders? No, on second thought, if Ainz—or rather, Satoru Suzuki—
had spotted a stranger in the office, he wouldn't have been inclined to go up
and start a conversation. If he had, many people would take it as a sign he
thought they didn't belong there.
Of course, he didn't personally feel ostracized or anything.
The twins were the stars of the show—Ainz was merely along for the
ride. It would never do for him to hog the limelight. More importantly, there
would be ample opportunity to make his mark later. Like he'd planned on
his arrival, he needed to turn Aura from a hero into a child.
As he had that thought, Ainz noticed a dark elf coming his way.
He'd glanced at Ainz once or twice, but no more than anyone who just
happened to cross paths with him.
Good enough. He can help with my cover.
Ainz had spent enough time here with Perfect Unknowable to have a
good grasp of how the village was laid out, but "Aura's uncle" had only just
arrived. If he looked like he knew where he was going, someone might start
to wonder. Naturally, he had any number of excuses. For example, he could
simply say Aura had told him. But it was a good idea to head off any
suspicion before those proved necessary.
After all, there wasn't anything to be gained by making people cautious.
"Uh, pardon me."
Asking a random dark elf for directions would create the perfect alibi.
"Mm, yes? Can I help with something?"
"Yes, my niece told me your village has a skilled apothecary. Would you
mind directing me to the apothecary master's elf tree?"
The man saw nothing amiss with that question and happily pointed the
way.
Ainz gave his thanks and followed the directions he didn't need.
On the way, he passed a dark elf extending a hand toward the ground
below.
Wondering what he was doing, Ainz paused to watch, and the ground
began to heave, the mass of soil climbing the trunk like a slime.
It resembled Mare's Earth Surge, but there were many differences.
Whether it was daily-life magic or a druid's faith spell, neither existed in
Yggdrasil. These were things that the people of this world had developed
during the course of their lives here.
The earth obeyed the man's manipulations, vanishing into the treetops
far above.
All that soil would probably go in the dark elves' vegetable gardens.
Their produce was grown in planters nestled inside or above the trees.
The planters themselves were made of packed soil, and Ainz had wondered
how they got the dirt up there. Clearly, this was the answer.
Pleased by the fascinating discovery, Ainz resumed his walk.
The elf tree at the end of the path was particularly grand—or at least,
thick. Possibly the plumpest in the village. This was the home of the
apothecary master, one of the village's leaders.
It was separated from the other elf trees by a fair distance.
Presumably to mitigate casualties if anything poisonous was
accidentally produced.
A high-level apothecary had built up resistances to these toxins, but
what they could handle might be unbearable for someone weaker, like
children or the sick.
If there was another reason, then…
…it might be to safeguard his knowledge.
Ainz had a great deal of respect for any attempts to monopolize
knowledge. Both to protect one's vested interests and to avoid problems
that might arise if secrets became common knowledge.
Everyone knew medicine could be poisonous at the wrong dosage.
But if someone simply stole the knowledge, would they manage to make
effective medicine? Probably not. Inferior facsimiles would not only cause
fatalities, they'd teach people to distrust the apothecary's authentic potions.
These concerns more than justified taking protective measures.
"Hello?" Ainz called from outside the elf tree.
No answer.
He knocked on the trunk and called again. Perking up his ears, he could
hear a grinding noise.
"Coming in!"
He stepped inside. A pudgier dark elf was seated with his back to the
door. Given his status and workload, he was likely well-fed but had little in
the way of exercise. Safe to assume he was the man in charge—the
apothecary master rather than a disciple.
He was seated at a low table, his arms moving vigorously.
On the table were basic instruments: a mortar and pestle along with
some bulkier grinding tools. On the shelves were a number of jars, likely
containing medicinal ingredients. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling,
which lent the space the expected atmosphere of an apothecary.
The acrid scent of dried ingredients mingled with the rich aromas of
freshly gathered medicinal plants. When the heady blend reached Ainz's
nostrils, it reminded him of Nfirea's workroom.
Dark elves had better hearing than humans, but not by much. It was
impossible to tell if the master knew Ainz had come in and was simply
ignoring him or if he was too focused on his work to have noticed him at
all.
Ainz spoke again.
"Pardon me. Do you have a moment?"
For the first time, the apothecary master stopped his grinding. He glared
over his shoulder once, then frowned.
"You're… Oh, I get it. The cloth on your face. The man from the same
place as that girl. I heard you were an arcane caster?"
"Indeed I am. I see word has already spread."
He reached for the cloth to remove it.
"Don't," the man said. "Your people's rules, right? I don't need to see.
Ain't nothing for me even if I do. Leave it alone. I've acknowledged your
greeting. If we're done here, be on your way. I've got work to do."
After that begrudging mutter, the apothecary lost interest and turned
back to his desk. It was a curt response that seemed extremely dismissive.
But Ainz was actually relieved.
People like this spoke their minds and hid nothing. If he'd merely said,
Go away—you're bothering me, all Ainz's salesman tricks would most
likely have failed to make the man turn back around.
But that wasn't what he'd said. In other words, Ainz still had a chance.
As the master picked up his pestle, Ainz asked, "What are you making
now?"
"Does it matter?"
A bit hostile. He decided to not mince words.
"Perhaps not," Ainz said. After a brief pause, he said, "If I can ask, what
herbs are you using to treat an upset stomach here? Quine rind? Candiane
root?"
The master's hands paused. His head turned once again, looking over his
shoulder.
"Gimme a minute?"
"Of course."
He turned his back to Ainz again and went back to his grinding. But
even facing away, it was clear his attitude had changed.
The key was finding common ground in a person's background or their
interests—that was the most basic of conversation techniques Satoru Suzuki
had learned on the sales grind.
A total stranger or a fellow fan? Even if the product itself, the
appearance, the price, and the terms stayed exactly the same, most clients
would respond better with the latter.
If this apothecary was passionate about his work, then Ainz had
assumed talking shop would be the best way in.
"That's what I'm making now. Can't find quine in these parts, so I'm
using azen leaves. You might have heard, but once you crush those, they
lose their medicinal properties quickly. But if you grind 'em too fast and
they get warm, they're also ruined." Once he'd crushed enough, the man
poured some goopy fluid into the bowl. "Sap excreted from a tap on a nelay
tree. Mix the two and you get a stable product. But used like this, it doesn't
do much; you gotta take it one step further."
The master turned back to Ainz and gave him a long, searching look. He
sniffed once and scowled.
"…Don't smell it on you. Show me your hands."
Ainz did as he was told. Pretty sure what this meant, he turned his hands
palm up, showing off his fingertips. At this distance, there wasn't much
danger he'd try and touch them, but just in case, he prepped excuses to
make if the man got up.
"No green scent on you. There ain't an apothecary in the world who can
escape it. That and the stains on your fingertips. I heard you were an arcane
caster, but you makin' your medicines by other means?"
He'd anticipated this question, so he could have crushed some herbs
ahead of time to come wreathed in the right odor and win the master's trust.
Ainz's hands were illusions, so he could easily have made them look right
as well.
There were two reasons why he hadn't done that.
First, the Baleare home didn't smell like that. Certainly, the odors were
quite powerful while they were working, and the workshop as well as their
work clothes were similarly intense.
But that smell didn't linger around him all the time. Nfirea in particular
took great care in deodorizing. Perhaps that was unique to the Baleares, but
in Ainz's experience, when pretending to be something you're not,
modeling your false identity on a real individual usually turned out more
natural and led to less lying to fill in the gaps.
Secondly, Ainz knew nothing about herbology.
He could fake the smell and the stains and claim to be an apothecary's
disciple, but he would only be able to answer precious few questions about
the mixing process. It would not take long to catch him out, and that glaring
hole in his cover story could bring the whole charade crashing down,
forcing them to leave the village.
"No, I don't do anything of the sort. I learned what I do know from an
alchemist, and even then, it was just a smattering of knowledge."
Ainz had concocted a cover story to avoid being caught in a lie and
skirted the edge of contradiction.
"…Hmm, well, all right."
He could tell the master had lost interest in him.
A reasonable response. Expected, even.
That was why Ainz had prepped a few morsels to keep him curious. As
the man turned back to his worktable, Ainz stepped over and laid one of
those tidbits down next to him.
"This is a healing potion obtained from a source of mine."
The glass bottle itself had been made in E-Rantel and was the opposite
of elegant; the contents, on the other hand, were something the Baleares had
made in the process of developing red healing potions. They'd now
successfully completed their research on said red potions and were
currently working on ways to make them with more cost-effective herbs
and alchemical substances. As a result, this potion was not widely
circulated.
"It's…purple?" the apothecary asked as he picked up the bottle. "The
glass itself isn't colored, so why isn't it blue? Something mixed into it?"
He peered into the bottom and gave it shake.
"Looks like there's some sediment…," he muttered. "Mind if I try it?"
"Go ahead."
Before the words had even left Ainz's mouth, the apothecary opened the
bottle, cut his hand with a knife, and doused the wound with the potion.
He used quite a bit, almost half the bottle.
The wound was already visibly closing up. Not exactly instant, but…
"That's fast. Don't even need to time it. Assuming herbs and magical
solutions…but what's the sediment?"
This guy talks to himself a lot. And wasn't he just using that knife to
chop stuff up? Is that safe to use on your own hand? Is magical solution
what dark elves call alchemical tinctures? And the way he used it… Aren't
you supposed to use the whole bottle no matter how bad the wound? Or is it
just that in the heat of battle, no one can risk eyeballing the severity of an
injury to figure out the right dosage?
The master licked the potion off his hand and sniffed it.
"I smell azen…?"
Before Ainz could even say anything, he realized his error.
"No, that was on my hand already. So why is it odorless? To disguise
it?"
Disguise what?
"No…," the apothecary said as he turned toward Ainz. "Are all city
potions this color?"
"They are not. I've heard this came from E-Rantel, the city ruled by an
undead king. No idea how it reached me, but it's quite valuable. Common
potions I've seen are all blue."
The master let out a long breath.
"An undead king? No, that's not the issue here. It sounds like a big issue
for somebody else, but so be it. Mm. Mind if I have this?"
He pointed at the half left in the bottle.
"For the right terms." Certain the man was listening now, Ainz added, "I
want some information. You're doing this job in this forest, so I'm sure you
know a lot about the place. I think that knowledge would be worth trading
for. If you're interested, of course."
There was a long silence.
"What would you be doing with this knowledge?" the master asked.
Given the man's attitude thus far, Ainz could imagine what answers he'd
find amenable. Anything involving self-improvement or becoming a better
apothecary. But those were answers Ainz couldn't provide.
"I don't have a concrete goal here. That knowledge might come in
handy for a trade sometime in the future. Plus, it'll slake my curiosity."
Ainz had expected it, but the man's brow furrowed.
"…That's it?"
"Like we discussed earlier, I'm an arcane caster. I'm more than a little
good at that, but I was a lousy alchemist. My teacher told me I have no
potential. I've got no intention of entering the apothecary game. But the
knowledge itself is a whole other story. Knowledge is power and a weapon.
Having it makes all the difference. And it's worth having you owe me one."
"......…How so?"
"You know I'm no apothecary. You're not about to teach me any of your
biggest secrets. Right?" Ainz didn't even wait for the man's answer. "But
I'm offering a mystery healing potion, something extremely rare. Is there
anything you're willing to teach me that can match its value? I have my
doubts, and if I'm right, you'll end up owing me."
"I might just dole out some basic brewing and medical knowledge and
claim my debt is paid. Then maybe I would tell everyone I owe you
nothing. I could even say what I provided was worth more and that you're
the one who owes me."
"Suit yourself."
The apothecary blinked at him.
"There are two downsides to that. First, you can't lie to yourself. If you
exchange trivial knowledge for something genuinely valuable, you'll just
saddle yourself with guilt."
"Oh, really now?"
"And second, you'll gain a reputation for shamelessness. If we have any
future dealings, how you behave now will inform what comes later. If I
head back to the city and tell this story, what will other apothecaries—those
who know more than I do—think?"
"Aha. They'll think that's all we provincial barbarians know, and then
the dark elves and their apothecary will be a laughingstock. I'd be the fool
who can't even tell how valuable this potion is, or else I'd be someone who
didn't have knowledge worth trading for. Or worse, a man so unscrupulous
that I didn't even bother to strike a fair deal."
"Then again, perhaps they'll think you're clever enough to get top-shelf
goods at bottom-bin prices."
"…Is that how city apothecaries think? Don't they try to provide good
services for fair prices?"
"All sorts of people live in cities, I'm afraid. There may be some blinded
by short-term profit, who never spare a thought to where it'll leave them.
But I doubt those people last long; no one would ever deal with them again.
Merchants who take good care of new customers pave their own way to
future success. Like how people say you have to spend to gain."
"Heh-heh-heh," the apothecary chuckled. This was the first time he'd
cracked a smile. "You sure know how to talk circles around people. Born
with the gift of gab."
Ainz was relieved. He'd thought this dark elf was a bit more emotional.
The fact of the matter was that your average salesman had trouble more
often with clients who acted on emotions rather than logic. You could lay
out the pros and cons, but if they ultimately went with their gut instead,
game over. People like that were far more likely to agree to something one
day and change their minds the next.
The best salesmen claimed these people were actually easier to deal with
once you won them over, but Ainz—or Satoru Suzuki—had been
thoroughly average and preferred to avoid them.
"No one's ever told me that before."
It was a genuine first for Ainz.
"I bet everyone thinks it and just keeps it to themselves."
His mood had certainly improved.
"Really? I find that hard to believe."
"Heh-heh-heh. Well, if I'm trading knowledge worth this potion, it's
gonna have to be one serious secret. How long will you be staying?"
"We don't have set plans, but not that long. Seven days at the most."
The master made a face.
"Oh…then…"
He fell silent, thinking for a long time. Ainz said nothing.
"In that length of time, I can't teach you any of the true mysteries.
Medicines are usually kept secret because they involve minute changes—
you gotta harvest the ingredients at the right time and learn to identify that
from small shifts in the odor or texture, make slight adjustments to the
amount you use. I'd rather spend a good six months pounding that into your
skull."
Ainz would rather the man just wrote the recipe down, but even he could
tell that would probably infuriate this master.
"So I can't teach those and I'm not sure it'll be worth the price, but I can
share knowledge on how to brew some rare medicines. How's that sound?"
"That'll be just fine. As you see fit."
"Then…you're sleeping here from now on. We've got little time. Gotta
make it a part of you."
" Um, what?"
That would be bad. Really bad.
He wanted to minimize the chances of anyone seeing through his
illusion. And he didn't have to eat, sleep, or relieve himself. No matter how
good his performance, he'd get caught eventually.
"Sorry, but I have my niece and nephew with me. I don't mind if that
means you teach me less. I'll take proper notes."
"…You'll have to memorize them. No writing allowed."
"Oh…?"
Ainz trailed off.
He wasn't sure he could remember things that way.
Certainly, he'd poured his entire self into Yggdrasil and had no difficulty
recalling vast amounts of information. But this time, he had no real interest
in what he was learning. The thought of trying to memorize everything
made him shake his head.
And if employees just listened without taking notes, wouldn't that make
the boss nervous?
Satoru Suzuki certainly thought so, but his silence was interpreted
otherwise.
"That doesn't work for you?" the apothecary master said. "I haven't
asked about how that potion was made. Remember that while you consider
these terms."
"No notes at all? I dunno. My memory just isn't that reliable. The notes
are to help me learn things."
"Absolutely not!" The master's spittle flew. "Your body is supposed to
remember it! Any apothecary apprentice learns how to measure things by
the weight on their palm!"
It felt like insisting that wasn't possible wouldn't go down well. Ainz
wondered if he should lie.
He wasn't about to insist lying was inherently wrong. The concept of the
white lie existed for a reason. But he did want to avoid any malicious
deceptions here.
Well, this is a pain.
The way this was going, Ainz was about to become this man's student
and get some intensive training. But he hadn't been planning on committing
to anything so grand. All he'd hoped for was a chance to maybe learn
something useful if the man was willing to share. Maybe catch a glimpse of
dark elf herbology and, if that proved in any way superior to what the
Nation of Darkness had, find a way to acquire it later—sending some
interns, maybe.
His only real goal here was to acquire a scrap of knowledge to bring
home and investigate. Ainz himself had never intended to study anything in
depth.
Honestly, when he'd said the payment would be knowledge, he'd have
been perfectly happy to simply take home a potion made here and foist it
off on Nfirea. That would have been no—well, not much of a—problem.
Nfirea would likely have been able to analyze the composition.
Hmm. Maybe I blew my lead-in here. But that was the only way I could
think to get his attention. That was why we're talking at all. And there is the
possibility we wouldn't manage to reverse engineer a potion, so this
approach isn't entirely without merit. What do I do? No, first I've gotta
decide if I should lie here and if I do, how.
"Well?"
Didn't look like he had time to mull this over. He'd just have to wing it.
"…The man who taught me did say similar things."
The apothecary master nodded emphatically, pleased that city masters
understood the proper way to do things.
"But he also said this: You're dumb as a post, so write things down. How
many times you plan to make me say the same things?"
"......Huh?" The master's eyes went wide; then his brows went up.
"…Are you that dumb?"
"Well, he said as much."
"O-oh. No, no, masters are always harsh on their disciples. I'm sure he
didn't mean it. Not entirely. I mean, your arguments were logically sound
and smartly blocked all my routes of evasion. That shouldn't be possible if
you're truly dumb."
Now he's trying to comfort me.
Dark elves or not, claiming to be an idiot effectively shut any argument
down. This world was hardly a kind one, so Ainz thought there was a
chance the master might wash his hands of him, but apparently not.
"I'm sure the fault lies with me. My memory is just that poor."
"A-ah…"
Ainz must have really sold that line, because the apothecary looked
away in discomfort.
There was a long silence.
It was becoming increasingly likely the master would refuse to teach
him at all—if he couldn't even measure things properly, he was liable to
end up concocting poison.
But at length, the man said, "Very well, then," like light had dawned.
Ainz wondered why, and the master looked momentarily impressed—
but this quickly faded back to his standard grump. A flicker so brief, it
might have been entirely in Ainz's mind—but wasn't.
Ainz braced himself. He didn't know what this meant, but it was clear
the man had made his decision.
He felt like he saw a familiar demon hovering over the master's
shoulder, grinning at him.
What's going on here? This better not be anything weird.
"In that case, we have no choice. Seven days at most—meaning you
might leave earlier, right? With that brief a window, I don't want to waste
time repeating myself. Just promise to burn the notes once you've got 'em
memorized."
Ainz didn't know what had changed the apothecary's mind. That made
him cautious, but he didn't let it show.
"You have my word," he said.
"Good. You asked for the hard stuff, so I'll teach it to you. I'm a harsh
teacher, but you better not come crying to me later, hear?"
He hadn't remembered asking for anything like that, but he put that
argument aside in favor of saying, "I'd rather you be nice?"
The apothecary's jaw dropped, and then he made a face like he'd just
swallowed a bug.
Ainz wasn't against harsh instruction but definitely preferred the latter if
the option existed.
"Unbelievable…"
"I mean, I don't want to get beaten with a hot poker here."
"D-did your teacher do that?!"
"No, he didn't."
"Well, neither will I!"
"That's great to hear."
Ainz held up his hands, grinning, and the master scowled at him.
"Right, I think I've started to figure you out. And I'm beginning to feel
sorry for your last teacher. In any case, let's get started. I'm gonna name a
few medicines and what they do—teaching you about anything you already
know would be a waste… Well, maybe not entirely. If the components are
different, there can be value in learning that. Anyway, you can tell me what
you wanna learn."
"Thank you. But first—one last question. You're fine with just taking
me at my word?"
If he wanted Ainz signing anything, or worse, casting a binding spell of
some kind, he might be better off backing out of this whole thing.
"I am. Trust is important. If you turn it into a book, word might get back
around to me eventually. I'll lower my opinion of you then. You and all city
apothecaries."
"Makes sense. I certainly don't want to cause harm to their reputation,
too. I promise I will not be publishing anything learned here."
The apothecary master watched the man from the city until he was out of
sight, then chuckled to himself.
How long had it been since he saw anyone out? It might have been the
very first time since he was appointed head apothecary.
An astonishingly clever man. Is the city full of people like him?
He found that hard to believe. Or rather, hard to imagine.
I knew the city had more people in it than all the dark elves in these
woods, but that man has to be among the best of them. Assuming a man of
his intelligence is bog standard there, then if our ties to the city deepen and
our dealings grow frequent, we'll have to exercise incredible caution or
we'll be taken advantage of before we know it.
A modest man, he'd put himself down, but if those words were true, he
could never talk like that. Given how the conversation had gone and the
information that had been exchanged—that was simply not how a stupid
man communicated.
So why had he insisted on writing his teachings down? Had he not been
concerned that it would provoke the apothecary master and prevent him
from learning anything?
The more he'd insisted he was a fool with a lousy memory, the more the
apothecary had started to suspect there was something afoot.
After all, he could have just written things down later on. In other
words, he had good reason to risk the master's ire and insist on writing
things down before his very eyes. Namely…
It took me a minute, but there were two points he wanted to make clear.
First, he's not hiding anything.
Of course, that didn't mean the apothecary master took him at his word.
He might be revealing one truth to hide something else. For better or worse,
they'd just met today, and the master wasn't quite ready to completely trust
a stranger. Yet, the man's attempts to show his hand and prove he wasn't
hiding anything went a long way toward building confidence.
The second thing he couldn't say outright—but I took it as a request to
teach the hardest brews I can despite the lack of time. Stuff you wouldn't
remember just seeing it done a few times.
The man was no dedicated apothecary, so he had a lot of nerve trying to
learn challenging brews. And most of those concoctions used valuable
ingredients. Perhaps that was why he couldn't ask for them directly.
He was clearly a man of propriety.
But the apothecary master didn't have a problem with that.
From the get-go, this was an exchange for an unknown potion, likely of
legendary quality. He'd been ready to share his trade secrets. There were
three main categories the dark elves kept under wraps.
First: The brew itself was tricky.
Second: The recipe required extremely rare ingredients.
Third: The potency was too high to be worth the risks.
Those were the three.
He'd mentioned the first as an argument against teaching his secrets. He
was now planning on teaching something from the second category.
It was always possible ingredients that were hard to find in the forest
were readily available in the city. That sort of thing happened all the time
with herbs. But they'd get nowhere if they were too hung up on that little
detail. And since the first category was impossible and the third too risky,
the second category was the apothecary master's only real option here.
This was a fair trade for what he'd gained, and if the rare ingredients
became valued in the city, that could work to his advantage.
If the visitor went home, ended up talking about the brew he'd learned,
and it became widely known that the ingredients had value, then traders
from the city might come to the dark elf village seeking those out. The
purple potion the apothecary master examined seemed to suggest city
brewers were very accomplished. Any chance to pick their brains or obtain
ingredients they commonly used would benefit the apothecary master in the
long run.
He wasn't sure the man's arrival would actually lead to trade with the
city. If someone had suggested he agree to this exchange with an eye on
profit, he likely would never have gotten on board. If he'd been the kind of
man smart enough to break things down in utilitarian pros and cons, the
villagers would never have called him ornery and he wouldn't have reached
this age without so much as a wife to his name. Even other apothecaries
kept their distance, a fact that bothered him, but not enough to make him
change his ways.
The visitor had spoken of ventures and gains. The apothecary master
usually loathed such topics. But—and this was the fascinating part—the
visitor had framed those terms with an apothecary's pride. In spite of
himself, the thought that his skills would be discredited in some far-off land
without him ever finding out was something the apothecary master could
not abide.
For that reason, he felt compelled to value the purple potion accurately
and return something of greater worth.
The visitor had certainly been persuasive. He'd come at him from both
sides, logical and emotional.
Generally, the teacher had all the advantage and a would-be learner had
to bow and scrape.
That sure hadn't happened here.
He had to provide a lesson of comparable value to that potion, but the
decision on what counted was entirely up to him. Up to that point, they
stood on even ground.
But the man swiftly brought up the subject of notes, exposing himself.
If he did that to prove he had nothing to hide just so he could win my
trust…then I've got to do my part to win his. But…
That was tricky.
The master settled down at his worktable, scowling.
…I don't know if I even can.
He was well aware he wasn't the most social dark elf around.
On the rare occasions he'd taught villagers his knowledge, he hadn't
been the best teacher.
If I wasn't teaching, I could use those herbs to help myself unclench a
bit…
He glanced at a bundle of dried leaves on the shelf and shook his head.
They were used to alleviate pain and excelled at banishing stress. But it
would hardly be appropriate for a teacher to dose himself before class.
"I'll just have to do what I can," he muttered.
Still, the visitor wasn't much of an actor. He was watching my every
move, forgetting to blink… He's just that interested, I guess? Heh-heh. His
features make him look younger than me, and the way he acted makes me
confident he is. Kinda cute, really.