Alchimia Rex

Tomas Hew sat heavily on the chair, holding the book and staring into the yellowed pages, but not reading a word. His mind was elsewhere, locked into musings and considerations of the many things that still made little sense of this world.

Out of all of them, one haunted him above all others. It was written and underlined on the notepad and scratched out only to be written again. Notes upon notes scribbled all around, gravitating around the two words like the rings around Saturn.

“Why English?”

It was the core of his conundrum.

The history books spoke of the time before the great war that had brought about maidens, but it said little of worth. Vague mentions of humans populating the world over, and then near extinction at the hands of the super-powered beings.

Everything after had far more detail. Wars, skirmishes, survival, rebellions, slavery, and each event was painted with the names of the people who were important to the tiny kingdom in an insignificant corner of the world. English was called Imperial, for it was the primary language of the Empire up north past the hot desert sands. But why was it so similar to the English of the world he’d come from?

Every time he thought he found an answer, doubt would assault him. His repertoire of science fiction and fantasy proved useful and useless in equal measure. How could one claim time travel or parallel worlds or alternate timelines when he had no way to prove any of it?

The dead end mocked him, the answer to get them back to their world hidden behind those two words.

Annoyed, Tomas snapped the book closed and stared at the chipped paint of the ceiling. If language would not give him the clue he needed to find a way, then what else was there to look into? Their group hadn’t been the first to pop into this world. There’d been others. Common and impactful enough for everyone to have at least heard rumors, rare enough that the last “otherworlder” to have popped into existence did so forty years ago at the other end of the planet.

Planet.

Tomas jolted out of the couch. His sudden movement made Freya stir from her reading, the Elf raised her green eyes to glance his way with an inquisitive silence only she could create.

“Are there any books on stars and planets?”

She pondered for a moment. “I think so. Do you think you have a lead?”

“Maybe.” He replied, following her.

The Earl of Balet owned a great deal of books for someone living in an age where printing a book could take several days. But if there was one thing about it that Tomas didn’t quite enjoy, it was that most of them were of recent history, a veritable wall of who’s who in the kingdom and the Empire. Particularly their extended families and ancestors.

It was this wall of history that Freya approached with a keen eye. She found what she was looking for, tucking out one book and flipping it open. Within the pages, mixed in with the text, were drawings of stars and constellations.

“Hope this will do. Thanks.” Tomas took the heavy block of paper, left a peck on the Elf’s cheek, and turned to the table.

The orange light on the lamp flickered from the impact of the tome.

Though the text was written in a thick and archaic form of English, it didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. The technology on telescopes might be behind that of his world, but when there were maidens that could spot a fly a kilometer out…

It was a set of drawings.

Tomas felt his ass hit the chair as he fell down against it, eyes wide.

“We… we’re here.”

“What is it?” Freya leaned over his shoulder, staring at the depictions that’d been added by hand on to the paper.

“Planets.” He muttered. “They’re… they’re our planets.” He pointed at each of them in turn. “Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune… they’re here, even Pluto. They’re… they’re here.”

The Elf arched a singular brow, once more prompting him to speak.

“English was a weird coincidence, it could be explained by someone from some other world having shown up and taught it. Same for the other weird cultural things,” he said, pointing at the book. “But this? This is my solar system.”

“Then it is the same world?”

“It’s not impossible.” He grimaced. “But there’s one way to be absolutely sure.” He pointed at the wall. “We need to find someone who was there at the start of everything.” He glanced at Freya. “Do you think there could be something like an Elf that’s been alive since maidens came to this world?”

She shook her head. “If there are any ageless maidens that old, I’ve never heard of them. The oldest I know of was a little over a hundred.”

Tomas sighed, absently closing the book. He opened the notebook, ripping out the page and flipping to the first blank page. Carefully, he wrote the four words.

“Maidens got here how?”

The young man was sure this question would be far harder to answer. The Earl had mentioned it offhandedly, of how many people had sought the truth of the cataclysm, and of how many hypotheses were floating around over how and why humanity had been brought so low.

It seemed he had a long road ahead.

****

****

Barry Dodson squirmed as Orion’s claws brushed and weaved through his ginger hair. The Hound’s sharp nails always pinched and scratched, but never truly harmed. She was meticulous in her work, picking at any bugs like a monkey would a companion from their shared troupe.

It was slow going, keeping him pinned to her lap while her tail lazily wagged behind her.

“You’re going over the same place again.” He mumbled.

“No.”

That was the end of the discussion. His previous attempt to escape had been denied with ease. All she’d needed to do was wrap her legs around his hips and that was as far as he’d be able to go.

The door to the room opened, a lone figure stepped into the room, heavy metal boots clattering with every step. Embla froze as she stared at him, eyes hidden within the darkness of her helm.

“Hey.” Barry awkwardly waved at her. “How did it go?”

“The campaign is going as planned.”

She didn’t move a single step further into the room, Barry could feel the pain through the bond. There was a stinging within her heart that echoed inside his chest. “You could… stay a while.”

“I shouldn’t.”

But she didn’t make a move to leave. The armor clanked as it shifted, scratched, dirty, worn. The patchwork of reparations was clear even to Barry. How long until it crumbled? How many more fights before she never came back?

“Did you have trouble today?”

Embla met his attempt to break the silence without an answer, remaining perfectly still, like a statue.

“Have they surrendered yet?”

More silence.

Barry swallowed. “I felt someone die last night, it was Grace.”

“I know.”

“She was afraid.” He continued in a low voice, lowering his gaze to the bed. “She was alone. A feral-.”

“I know.”

“She…” His fingers dug into his pants. “Is there any other way I can help?” His jaws clenched, eyes desperate. “Maybe we should try the grove again. There has to be someone…”

Embla’s shoulders tensed. “There is no need.” She declared. “Your friend did what you couldn’t.”

“Then the Elf Queen…?”

“No, not her.” Embla looked over her shoulder, focusing on the space beyond the bedroom door. She glanced at him once more, lowering her voice. “But someone that’s been of great help to the campaign.”

Barry smiled. “Then Sinco…”

“The maidens will be freed from the kingdom’s tyranny.” The maiden nodded.

“When that happens, could I-?”

“You need to stay safe.” Embla’s voice rang out like a gunshot, she turned her head to look over her shoulder once more.

“But-.”

“I need to get back.” She turned.

“Wait!”

She already had one foot out of the door. She flinched and stopped. For a moment, he saw through the darkness of the visor, meeting her gaze. Embla was afraid. The look in her eyes sent a chill down his spine.

“What’s going on? Please, I need… could you at least stay the night?”

Her shoulders slumped, her gauntlet squeezing the doorknob until it groaned in complaint. “It’s not safe, Barry, my mother, the Lady…” She tensed, glancing at the door again, then back at him.

And then she was gone.

The door to his gilded cage closed with a pang.

****

****

Mark Dodson took a swing of the bottle, feeling the sting of alcohol burn its way down his throat. The young man grimaced at the bleached taste of the potion, hating the necessity of having to consume the thing. With the first came a second, and then a third.

Done with the first part of the preparation, he strapped on the leather armor one piece at a time, checking the enchantments activated with each piece of garment. Only then did he put on the black pants and long-sleeved shirt on top, and then the black cape. Fully geared, he pulled the hood over his head, making sure he hid his face behind the cowl.

‘You look like a burnt piece of bread.’

The voice spoke directly into his mind, and Mark ignored it, leaving the small alcove. Walking with the enchanted boots was like stepping on warm clouds. He could’ve stepped on glass and it wouldn’t have made a sound.

Mark made his way up the stairs, checking over his shoulder with every other step, stopping with every little noise or random creak. Each step was tortuously slow. There were several maidens wandering around the place, most just maids tending to night tasks, the rest guards doing their rounds.

The enchantments in his clothes kept him hidden from all senses save vision. And his naturally infinitesimal amount of energy made him invisible to anyone with an ability to detect auras.

It took him an hour to reach the target.

There were three beds in the room, the one in the middle occupied by the human, the others by Hounds. Mark felt his skin prickling and blood run cold. He slowed his pace further, almost holding his breath as he got close to the older man.

He reached out, and with a gloved hand, covered the man’s mouth.

The target startled, opening his eyes in a panic.

The knife against his throat kept him still.

“You will receive a letter tomorrow.” Mark spoke slowly, pressing down. “And you will do as told.” He waited for a heartbeat, ears sharp. “We clear?”

The target nodded.

Mark increased the pressure of his gloved hand against the man’s face, triggering the sleep-spell and putting him back into a deep slumber. From there, all he had to do was slowly backtrack the way to the alcove, and from there make his way to the stables.

‘All clear.’

The voice whispered in his mind.

He found the cart with the large empty box, and made his way inside.

It was a tight fit, the potion he’d drank allowing his muscles to stretch without cramping. There was a strange comfort in the position, even if being trapped in a tight space was the worst part of the experience.

These kinds of jobs were the worst.

Twelve hours later, he’d made his way to the safe-house and was met by Noah.

The psychic Tigermouse greeted him with a quick nod and a platter of food. ‘You’ll feel the hunger soon.’

“Any waves?” He grabbed a bite of ham.

“City guard’s quiet,” Brye spoke as she stared out the house from the windowsill, her vulpine tail swishing back and forth.

With a deep sigh, Mark nodded, putting the platter of food on the nearest flat surface and shifting his focus to removing the enchanted gear and protection. No sooner had he thought this that the two maidens had approached him. Deft fingers worked buckles and undid knots.

The two psychics didn’t glare at one another, but Mark could feel some quiet competition happening as they worked in tandem to strip him down.

“Anything from the Boss?” He shrugged off his clothes and went to get washed. He might not feel the cold, but he was drenched from head to toe. As soon as the potion’s effects were gone, he’d start shivering.

“If you fucked up, he’ll let you know.” Brye commented idly, teleporting into the bathroom.

“You should stop asking about what it is you’re doing.” Noah whispered with her squeaky voice, hands caressing his back. “You’re going to get into trouble. If the Boss wants you to see the bigger picture, he will reveal it to you.”

“He should’ve made that clear himself, then.” Mark growled, watching as Brye submerged her hands into the tub. It didn’t take long for steam to emerge. “These jobs are shit. There’s bound to be a less convoluted way.”

“Undoubtedly.” Brye’s claws scratched at his chest as he sank into the hot water. Her eyes shimmered with power. “These are tests.”

Mark’s brows creased. There was no sense in asking what sort of test, or for what purpose. His thoughts drifted as he glanced at the ceiling, feeling the hands of both maidens caressing his chest and moving their way down his naked body.

“The man.” He muttered. “The guy was a big fish.”

“Kinaston Hille,” Noah muttered. “His family runs the elemental stone market in Aubria.” Her fingers were deft, soft, and gentle. It was easy to tell what she was focused on because she would trail his body based on where he felt soreness.

“Where does he get the elemental stones?”

“Mark…” Brye spoke with a warning in her voice. The fox’s firm grip zeroed in on her target, finding his shaft under the water and wrapping her fingers around it. “Do not dig, lets it become your grave.”

‘From Sinco.’

The young man grunted, closing his eyes and allowing them to continue their work.

“I don’t like being blindsided.” He spoke. “Knowing who we’re up against is the minimum.”

“Just don’t push it.” Brye leaned down, quickening her pace as she kissed his neck.

He shoved her face away. “Just be done with it.”

She smirked, procuring a glass vial with her free hand and angling his cock and pushing him over the edge. It was Noah that found his lips and pressed herself against him as the fox pulled the vial away, now containing the sample. It was the mouse that surrendered to his embrace and jumped into the tub as he tugged her into the warm water.

“Thank you for your kind donation.”

Brye corked the vial and eyed him, hesitating for a second and then walking off. The door closed behind her. Noah let out a sigh and sank into Mark’s arms, the diminutive maiden fitting in his embrace and entirely uncaring for her drenched clothes.

‘Stop thinking about escape.’ Her thoughts whispered into his mind, her lips placing fervent kisses against his chin. ‘I can’t protect you from her forever. She will detect them eventually.’

Mark didn’t speak, frowning, his mind turning to the broader spectrum of his circumstances. Blackmailed, trapped, milked like some sort of stallion while sent from one crazy job to the next. All the while they dangled the promise of information regarding his cousin right out of his reach.

‘I know.’

The maiden removed her shirt, tossing the sloppy clothes on the ground, pressing naked breasts against him, grinding against his hardness and letting out a soft squeak of a moan.

‘The Boss has eyes and ears everywhere. His traps have traps, and you can never be sure if a job is in fact a test or not.’ She moaned as he pushed her underwear out of the way, pressing his cock into her eager body.

She was always hot, wet, and ready. Just thinking about sex would work her up. The mouse’s constant presence within the edges of his mind left her vulnerable against his own emotions.

‘You need to be patient and survive.’

The shudder ran across her body. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she gripped tightly. The water of the tub sloshed as she impaled herself as deeply as she could go. All air was driven out of her. She squeaked and froze.

Her orgasm was immediate and without preamble, and it washed against Mark, pushing him over there and then. They held one another, the Tigermouse hugging him and breathing hard, frozen entirely, every breath a squeak.

“I fucking hate potions.”

Mark shifted positions, moving to pin her against the edge of the tub, the heat working through his body like a poison. Noah only moaned, spreading her legs as far as she could, inviting him into herself, her mind unabashedly flashing images of sex into his own, edging him to have his way with her.

It was an act.

It was something she did to keep him close, to keep him coming back.

He knew it, and yet he couldn’t stop. Noah was the only one he could trust. The one maiden that was his in every sense of the word. Ironic seeing how the former human had tried to kill him not that long ago.

It would be quite a while later, and after much spilled water, that the two lovers slumped against each other, panting and flushed. The tub was too empty for them to sink back into it, so they shifted to clean each other.

The bathroom door opened without a knock, interrupting Noah’s scrubbing of Mark’s back.

“We’ve got a new mission.” Brye stepped in, staring at him like a fox that had just entered the henhouse. “We leave tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“There’s an informant we need to meet that’s not too far from here,” she said. “Apparently, they have information on the location of Evans Bavtha. The Boss wants all the juicy details, and we’re the ones that’ll be asking the questions.”

Behind him, Noah let out a gasp.

“Who?”

“I was told I should inform you of the details.” Brye’s lips curled upwards, the smirk growing ten times in size. She reached up to her collar, tweaking it with her claw. “The Bavthas are the only ones with the knowledge of how to make the enchanted collars. The real collars, not the cheap imitations we were selling to those wildlings when we found you. Evans was the head… at least until he disappeared.”

The collars.

Mark frowned. They were the only tool that allowed the average human to form a bond. And it was the way the kingdom kept control over the population. If you cut off the supply of collars, people couldn’t break maidens of the feral curse, and that was that.

He wasn’t savvy in politics, but this felt like something that potentially went to the king… if not beyond that.

This was a brand new category of trouble on its own.

****

****

Alice Smith smiled with a practiced wooden grin, bowing her head in greeting to the noble lady. The blonde woman wore a lime green dress that cost more than everything within the room. The guest knew this, the fact plastered perfectly with a wrinkled nose and a raised chin.

It was the silent battle of unspoken subtext.

The noble looked around to find something nice to say, if only to follow the propriety of being a guest. “My, the windows are so… transparent and clean. Why, they’re almost invisible.” She took another step into the room, the gesture clearly taxing to the woman’s sense of integrity. “I can scarcely believe your little pets cleaned the place.”

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “The girls have been very grateful for their opportunity.” The former psychology teacher spoke mostly from necessity. God only knew what little slight could set a noble off. “They have been quick learners too. Most can-.”

“Yes, yes, you’re teaching the little things their letters.” A perfectly white glove waved her off. “I was told you’d altered the deal with the farmers?”

Alice’s fists clenched under the table as she kept the smile plastered on her face. “Yes. By paying in produce, we’ve been able to cover more of our food expenses than the alternative, the girls-”

“Start charging them coin soon or you will regret it.” The stuffy woman made to reach out for the lone book on Alice’s desk but pulled her hand away as if afraid she’d get infected with dirt. “Winter will come soon enough. You understand what this means, yes?”

It meant higher prices, and if they had no money saved up… But Alice was expected to know nothing about management. She wasn’t raised in the “great” halls of the military academies of the kingdom after all.

But correcting a noble did not differ from insulting them, not in their eyes. “I am grateful for the advice.”

“Are you certain you don’t wish to have the children-?”

“I do.” Alice’s brows snapped downwards, and the glare alone made the guest hesitate.

She coughed a little. “A… very generous, if wasteful, thing to do. Still, it is good that you learn of our ways.” A slow nod, and a thoughtful tapping of her chin. “You will come four times a week for Raymon’s lessons for the foreseeable future. It was his insistence.”

Alice gave a curt nod. She remembered it clearly, that day, the rain, the storm thundering overhead, and the feral Arachne that wanted to eat her alive. She remembered looking the creature in the eyes and knowing she’d die.

Sometimes, she relieved that memory with fondness. But the orphanage wasn’t entirely self-sufficient. It w. “I thank you for your generosity, Lady Olimpia.”

They needed the money. This was a small price to pay.

And there was one advantage from this contact. “And about the elemental stones…?”

“I expect it will take quite some time. The Aubrian merchants have a stranglehold on the prices. Once the feral business in the south is resolved, I expect things will flow once more.”

The two shared a few offhanded conversation topics, the weather, the ferals, and the lady dropped a few veiled insinuations about her little pumpkin-pie being interested in the “far older” Alice. The nobles of the kingdom had an obsession regarding progeny, and what better brood mare than a human devoid of a single drop of maiden ancestry? Alice‌ rebuked the offers while ignoring the bile that rose in her throat.

For how long could she milk the noble and fend off the proposals before they cut her off?

It would take the orphanage at least a year before it could cover most if not all the costs.

Just the thought of the alternatives made Alice’s shoulders heavy and her mind weary.

By the time the lady was truly gone, she could only slump on the chair and groan for a full minute. She rubbed at her aching temples and breathed in and out, working the aches and pains out of her system.

There was a knock at the door. Precisely four in quick order, followed by two slow ones.

“One minute.”

Alice stood up, downing her cup of lukewarm tea and dusted herself off. She imagined herself throttling the noble, slapping her around, and throwing her out the window, and with the natural smile that brought to her face, she reached out to the door and opened it.

There were four girls at the other side, all Mousegirls, the only aspect that distinguished them being the color of the bows on their heads. “Well what have we here?” Alice crouched so that she’d be eye-to-eye with them.

The one in the front thrust her arms forwards, presenting a piece of chalkboard with some scribbles on it.

“Is Lady Alice well?”

“This respectful lady is doing very well now that you four have come to visit.” She declared with a smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Have you all finished with your exercises?”

All four nodded, large round ears flopping back and forth.

“Let’s go make lunch.”

The four excitedly took the chalkboard, erasing the squiggles and drawing new ones. Watching them move was always a spectacle to behold. It always felt like they were all of the same mind about everything. For a while Alice had even thought they had actual telepathy.

“Cheese?”

She refrained from giggling too hard at the adorable, wide-eyed look of hope. “Only for those who’ve eaten all their sprouts.” They flinched, pouted, and ran off, four pairs of naked feet scampering down the hallway and out of sight.

Alice sighed a little at the thought of almond cheese, but it was a well loved treat by most girls in the orphanage.

“I wonder how Rick’s doing.”

She mumbled to herself, unsure where the thought had come from.