The Newt and Demon
Chapter 46: I Got Soup!

“Well, why not celebrate?” Azrug asked.

Tresk, Azrug, and Theo were walking to Xam’s tavern, intent on taking part in her infamous soup. The Marshling was in a good mood. She explained to the pair how her dungeon clearing went, including the ring she got. More monster cores, between level 10 and 15, were added to the stockpile. Before long, they’d have enough to send the town to level 15, giving them access to the defensive slots on the walls. That was the most important defensive measure, in the alchemist’s mind. It was an all-consuming need that he wanted to sate.

The Marsh Wolf Tavern was decently occupied when they arrived. Azrug scampered off to talk to his sister at the counter while they found a table. Theo was excited when he spotted Zan’kir, sitting with another Khahari cat person ‌he didn’t recognize. He asked for permission to sit at the table, the best table in the tavern, and they accepted.

“Mayor. You’re an interesting Dronon,” Zan’kir said, grinning. He gestured widely to the woman sitting next to him. “My wife. Zan’sal.”

“Nice to meet you!” Tresk said, holding out her hand for the woman to shake. Theo shook her hand as well.

“That was fast, Zan’kir,” Theo said. “I thought you had to go further north.”

“My wife, in her infinite wisdom, knew I’d replace land here. She met me part-way,” Zan’kir said.

“He’s predictable,” Zan’sal said, grinning. “I could tell the moment he left, his heart was set.”

Zan’kir shuffled his feet awkwardly, busying himself with his soup. “The children love it. I love the walls.”

“Yes, walls. Very safe,” Zan’sal said. “It’s not what I expected.”

“So, do all cat people have Zan at the start of their name?” Tresk asked, casting her eyes toward Azrug. She was hungry.

“Khahari,” Theo corrected, poking Tresk in the arm. “Calling them ‘cat people’ is rude.”

Tresk shrugged.

“It’s a surname,” Zan’sal said. “You combine a Khahari’s given name with their surname to make their full name.”

“I got soup!” Azrug shouted, coming in from behind. Whatever he was discussing with Xam was done.

Theo eyed the soup suspiciously. It didn’t seem like the regular stuff that Xam made, something he was happy for. Taking a sip of the broth, he found that the flavor had improved. He would have felt guilty about pushing her to improve her recipe, but the food really wasn’t worth the price. Not that he’d utter those thoughts out loud.

“Isn’t this fun, Theo?” Tresk asked, beaming.

“She thinks you’re working too much,” Azrug blurted out. His eyes went wide as soon as he said it.

Tresk vanished from the spot, quickly reappearing behind the horrified Half-Ogre. She whispered something in his ear and then vanished again, reappearing in her seat as though nothing happened.

“Fun, right?” Tresk asked.

Theo let out a heavy sigh. He had hit the ground running when he arrived in Broken Tusk, never taking time for himself. There was just too much to do, and he didn’t want to fall behind. The constant threat of the unknown loomed behind him like a tide, threatening to wash over everything he worked so hard to build. It wasn’t something he wanted to face, but the concept of burnout lingered in his mind like a storm cloud. The rain began outside, punctuating his thoughts.

“You’re right, Tresk,” Theo said. “I’ve been going too hard. I haven’t even worked on my alchemy book.”

“You could write some memoirs!” Tresk said. “People love reading about outworlders.”

Theo grunted, taking another bite of his soup. It might have been mystery meat, but it was good this time. Xam spent a lot of time working on the broth, and it showed. He suspected that someone brought it up, likely someone who enjoyed nightly meals at the Newt and Demon.

“Let’s try to take some time off,” Theo said. “Every now and again.”

“Our people keep two days for rest during the week,” Zan’kir said, smiling.

“At least,” Zan’sal said. “The desert is a different place, though. It’s too hot to work, most days.”

“Tresk, you’re just as bad. You hit the dungeon every day. Azrug can’t even talk. The only time he took a break was when he got his cores,” Theo said. “Maybe I’m not the only one with a problem.”

Tresk narrowed her eyes at the alchemist, poking him in the ribs. “Because your work ethic is infectious.”

“I’ve heard of the Tara’hek,” Zan’sal said. “The best parts of your personality bleed over to the other. The stronger your core gets, the more powerful that bond is.”

Theo nodded. He’d already deduced something important about the way cores progressed, but hadn’t put it to words. The stronger a core got, the more of its essence bled into the user. With his [Drogramath Alchemy] core, that was alchemical knowledge, and the processing of essences. Every step that he took toward level 10, he gained a new perspective on the way it worked. This was a feature of the system that wasn’t explained. He noticed a similar effect with his [Tara’hek Core], allowing him to get a better read on Tresk.

The Tara’hek wasn’t just a bond, though. It was as though the core knew what was best for both people, pushing them in a direction that would enhance both of their lives. So, while the core might claim to be a bonding core, there were more hidden features sitting just under the surface. Theo suspected that the core’s primary function was to elevate both users above their station and had more theories about core interaction that weren’t in any documentation he read.

These thoughts washed over him as conversation turned to smaller things, mostly concerning the Khahari’s children. The kids couldn’t get over the plants in the swamplands and were already dazzled by the wide array of new things in Qavell. They made friends with some Half-Ogre children already, cementing their place in the town. A thought for another project entered Theo’s mind, but he banished it. He’d take Tresk’s not-so-subtle prodding to heart.

“I should summon Fenian,” Theo said. “I have his order, but I wanted to make some more potions. But I had an idea about funding the defenses.”

Theo explained his idea about accepting “donations” for the cause.

“Why wouldn’t they have an interest in defending the town?” Zan’kir said. “Adventurers can make a lot of money—I make a lot of money.”

“You make decent money,” Zan’sal corrected. “Don’t go spending our savings.”

“It would be voluntary,” Theo said, waving a dismissive hand. He held up his hand with the ring, running his thumb over the length of the band. “How much would this fetch?”

“Don’t sell my ring!” Tresk shouted.

Azrug rubbed his hands together, pulling Theo’s hand close for inspection. “Without a [Loremaster] to unlock the additional effects? Hard to say. I’ve been talking with the adventurers who come into the store a lot. Magical items like this go between 20 silver and a gold, depending on the effects.”

“So, the adventurers are loaded,” Theo said.

“I’m not rich,” Tresk said, scowling.

“Because you don’t sell your loot,” Azrug said. “I bet you have 10 gold worth of junk in your bag.”

Tresk narrowed her eyes, staring at the Half-Ogre boy. “Maybe.”

Theo waved them away. That wasn’t the point, of course. His point was that the adventurers were making money, and would likely be fine parting with their money. Those who held houses in the town had an interest in its defense, even if their expenses were many. An adventurer would burn through potions to keep themselves alive, and cores to upgrade their current cores.

Tresk and Azrug argued with each other while Theo withdrew Fenian’s crystal. The Elf trader was happy to come to town tomorrow, claiming that he had a new form of transportation. The alchemist could only imagine what that was, but pushed the thought aside. He finished his soup as the pair argued, content with the day. Slowing down had its merits, but he knew that. Only after he finished his soup did Tresk tug at his arm, urging him toward the door.

“Let’s take a walk,” Tresk said. “There’s still daylight.”

“It’s raining,” Theo said, poking his head out of the door.

“Hush, it's fine,” Tresk said.

Theo reluctantly joined her under that deluge, feeling his clothes soak through immediately. She dragged him east toward the river, refusing to let him stop to harvest herbs. They just stood there at the bank of the river, casting their gaze over the raging water. The alchemist felt his thoughts join together in that moment. The rain let up, the constant sheet of water reducing to a light drizzle.

“This is good,” Theo said, nodding. “I’ve been busy for so long, but there’s a lot I need to think about.”

“Like what?” Tresk asked.

“I have theories about core progression. Things that should be written down,” Theo said. “Or, perhaps it's just my cores.”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

Theo explained his idea of core progression. The closer a core got to a level the more knowledge unfurled in the user’s mind. He gave examples based on what Perg, Luras, and Ziz told him. Their examples weren’t as extreme as his, but there was still something there. It was enough for him to lock that theory in his mind, but he had doubts.

“There are mountains of books on the subject,” Tresk said. “But I know very little. I’ll say this. I didn’t experience that with my [Rogue Core], but my [Assassin’s Core] is much more sensitive. When I upgraded my original core, it was a rush.”

Theo nodded. There was another layer he didn’t understand about cores. The rarity had some effect on his theory, but he didn’t have enough information to figure it out. There was that confluence again, staring him right in the face.

“Do you know where we’re standing?” Tresk asked.

Theo looked around. He’d been here a hundred times before, collecting the [Water Lilies] from the bank of the river. “The river,” he said, grinning.

“This is the place that Sulvan Flametouched came to slay the Drogramath Dronon known as Theo Spencer,” Tresk said.

Theo took his [Mark of the Burning Eye] between his fingers, rolling the emblem over so it caught the fading light of the day. He remembered Sulvan better than most, though he wished he could forget. The alchemist remained silent as he played that memory over in his head. It ended well, but he didn’t want that to happen again. He felt vulnerable outside of the town’s walls.

“I remember you screaming in my mind,” Theo said.

“He was scary,” Tresk said. “He came into town looking for you, but you know what? It was fine.”

“You tried to attack him,” Theo said, smiling.

“I would drive my daggers into the heart of a god for you, Theo,” Tresk said.

“I would helplessly toss a potion in its face for you, Tresk,” Theo said, chuckling.

A rush flooded through Theo’s chest.

[Tara’hek Core] receivedexperience (10%).

[Tara’hek Core] leveled up! Level 7.

“Hey, we got a level,” Tresk said. “But, I had a point. You told me about that confluence. Stuff coming together to make something else.”

“It’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about for a while,” Theo said.

“But the thing it made was better,” Tresk said. “From your dying world to a renewed town.”

Tresk was getting at something, but Theo couldn’t figure it out. She did this sometimes. He played along, for now. “I’ve suspected there’s something more to my arrival in Broken Tusk. Likely the magic from the Harbinger.”

Tresk sighed. “I want to make sure you’re happy. I want to know that you don’t have any plans.”

There it was. She was worried about something, but she wouldn’t say it out loud. His [Wisdom] allowed him to see through most things, giving him supernatural insight into most topics. The Marshling was still a mystery, most of the time. “What plans would I have?”

“Sulvan,” Tresk said. “The Harbinger, or Drogramath. I just want to make sure you know that this is your home. You don’t have to go on a crusade for either of them.”

Theo let out a bark-like laugh. “That’s what you’re worried about? No‌, I owe them something. Drogramath doesn’t seem to care what I’m doing, and the Harbinger enabled this life. I don’t have an interest in either of them,” he said, grabbing Tresk’s clammy hand. “I’ve got everything I need, and I intend to defend it no matter what.”

“Good,” Tresk said, resting her head on his arm.

Theo knew that wasn’t the reason she really brought him out here. She wanted him to see that life wasn’t just about grinding potions and clearing dungeons. The little things made the fabric of life while the exciting bits only served as bumps on the surface. He had to slow down to appreciate what he had, but there was still more to it. Those slow moments gave him a chance to reflect and let his thoughts settle.

They picked an ambling path back to their home, talking about all the things they’d done since Theo arrived. Tresk explained why she came on so strong, ‌theorizing that the Tara’hek was a powerful force that brought people together, even if they didn’t know they wanted it. This furthered his idea about the power of cores, and how far they’d go to alter a person’s perceived free will. How much of Theo Spencer, the government assassin, was there left? Those impulses and memories were left tattered underneath the new tapestry he’d woven. These little moments blanketed over his old life like a cloak, shielding him from that life.

Theo and Tresk found their way to the bedroom, using the [Cleansing Scrub] and crawling into bed as the setting sun gave way to twilight outside. The alchemist’s thoughts stirred, even as the Marshling’s snores filled the room. Fenian would arrive in town tomorrow, giving way to his new gambit. If he knew the Elf well, which he did, he would come with prices on the automated defenses. It would be the first step in his grand plan, something that robbed him of sleep for some time.