Mortimer, page 26
part #6 of Everybody Loves Large Chests Series
“Now, for the rest of you.”
The renewed hostility in the professor’s voice made the group of guards jump a little in their boots. Their posting here was not only a well-paying one, but also something of a last chance. After all, given the level of confidentiality that surrounded this place, they imagined that being fired would be a touch more complicated than simply emptying one’s locker. They probably wouldn’t be killed in cold blood, but… Well, suffice it to say that the Foundation had a never-ending demand for test subjects.
Thankfully, they had someone to blame for their blatantly irresponsible behavior.
“Don’t even think of using Zilla as an excuse.”
Honoka then brilliantly shot them down before they could utter a peep.
“You’re supposed to be trained, professional soldiers,” she continued, “so start acting like it or I’ll find you a post that’s more in line with your talents. Or lack thereof. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!” they roared in unison.
“Good, good. Now then-! What is it Zilla?” she noticed him raising a hand in the corner. “You’re supposed to be in time out, remember.”
It really is a time out?! retorted the guards in accidental mental unison.
“I think I forgot my top hat in the cell,” he said calmly. “Could I trouble one of these fine gentlemen to get it for me?”
Honoka let out another sigh. Of course that useless piece of foreign fashion was his. Who else could it possibly have belonged to?
“I suppose,” she consented, then pointed at one of the men at random. “You there – go get it. And no dilly-dallying!”
“Right away, ma’am!”
The singled out elf walked over to the blue panel next to the bulkhead and put his hand on it. The usual series of clangs were followed by the familiar low groan as it opened up, and the man ducked inside to accomplish his mission.
“Alright, the rest of you keep quiet. I’ll be handling some dangerous things for the next while, so I don’t want any undue-”
“Ma’am?!” yelled the guardsman from the inside.
“-disturbances… “
Honoka took a deep breath to calm herself before she responded.
“What is it?!”
“I think you better see this! Zilla too!”
The ex-wardrobe instantly dashed through the door upon hearing his name, with Honoka hot on his heels. The professor typically objected to the ‘you better see this’ cliché, but this was perhaps the one time she didn’t mind it. After all, she surely would have doubted the man if he flat out told her what the problem was, for she scarcely believed her own eyes.
Boxxy, who was still locked behind the impregnable Stasis Field, had reverted back to its base hylt creeper form and was currently sporting a stylish, cylindrical, black hat atop his head-
“M’lady.”
-which it tipped at her in greeting as if she had just arrived for a spot of afternoon tea.
Part Five
Professor Honoka was seated on the cold, metal floor. The way she was hugging her knees and sobbing quietly into them was entirely unbefitting behavior of a woman her age and stature, but was a clear indicator of her distraught state of mind. Kneeling next to her was a shapeshifter whose scar-faced persona would not normally endear him to others. He was nevertheless a much-needed source of comfort and his attempts to calm and reassure the elf were definitely welcome. Admittedly, the way he whispered sweet nothings while stroking her blue hair was a bit creepy from the perspective of others, but none dared say anything.
The professor’s sorry state was a direct result of Specimen 68’s hat trick, which had nearly given her a heart attack. Her mind immediately concluded the monster could not only slip in and out of the Stasis Field at will, but could do so without triggering the alarm. In actuality, the creature’s headgear was actually an imitation it had created out of its body, but the elf had failed to recognize it as such at first. The actual top hat that Zilla left behind was lying on the floor off to the side of the entrance, and as such was not immediately visible upon entering the room. It wasn’t until her pet monster calmly pointed it out to Honoka that she realized she had been tricked, deceived, hoodwinked, and, quite possibly, bamboozled.
However, rather than sigh in relief or shout in outrage, the elf ended up breaking down into a fit of tears and sobs. Much like Malon, she wasn’t a combatant whose nerves had been tempered by training and battle. The mere implication that the Stasis Field wasn’t as infallible as she believed it to be was enough to push her over the edge and completely ruin her composure. Though the nature of her work made her better prepared for dealing with monsters, the overwhelming horror she felt in that brief moment had rocked her to her core.
“Seems like you failed its test too, didn’t you?” said Zilla with a bemused smile.
“You’re not helping!” she wailed. “This is all your fault anyway, you retarded fashionista! *Huck!* You and your careless-! *Huck!* Your careless- *Huck!* Just-! Just go point that stupid face of yours at the wall or some- *Huck!* something, will you?!”
“Alright, alright,” he said, backing away slowly. “If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do.”
Seeing Zilla’s retreat instantly made Honoka feel bad about her outburst. She didn’t mean to say those hurtful things, but her anger had suddenly flared up and caught her off guard. She wasn’t even all that mad at him, not really. The only one she was upset with was herself. After all, the deceived had only themselves to blame, and Honoka had fallen for Boxxy’s ruse hook, line, and sinker. And then, as if crying about it wasn’t pathetic enough, she actually went and lashed out at her only real friend, who was just trying to help.
Honoka kept sobbing quietly for several more minutes, silently chastising herself all the while. Once she had finally calmed down, the elf rose to her feet while trying her best not to succumb to the embarrassment of having a nervous breakdown in front of over a dozen other people. She was already used to showing her pitiful side to Zilla, but the guards and colleagues currently trying their best to avoid her gaze were another story.
“Uh, Taniphil, was it?” she called out in a quivering voice.
“It’s Tanithil, ma’am.”
An assistant of hers responded, a tall and lanky elf with greasy black hair wearing the same standard-issue pure-white lab coat that all Foundation Alchemists were required to use.
“Right, sorry. You brought a shower, right?”
“Of course, Professor Honoka. Shall I get it for you?”
“Please do. And start unpacking the equipment while you’re at it.”
“Right away.”
Several seconds later, the assistant handed Honoka a small jar that appeared to have a tiny storm cloud floating inside it. She opened it right away, releasing its gaseous contents and allowing them to hover in the air directly above her. They rapidly expanded to ten times their original volume, then abruptly began raining on top of Honoka, complete with a series of tiny lightning strikes. They continued to dump their magical payload for about half a minute, after which the miniaturized storm disappeared without a trace. The elf was left completely drenched in liquid that was far too orange and was evaporating far too quickly to be plain water. Scarcely a minute later, she was dry once more, her clothes and body thoroughly cleansed of grime, dirt, tears, and snot by the Bottled Shower.
This was yet another invention based on Tol-Saroth’s work, more specifically the suit of perma-clean leather armor that Zilla wore pretty much around the clock. Foundation researchers had managed to replicate its weapons-grade cleansing enchantment in liquid form, all through the miracle of Magichem Alchemy. It was an area of expertise that dealt with the creation of many-a-strange mixtures, which usually required a generous amount of the Alchemist’s MP in addition to the actual ingredients. In layman’s terms, every Magichem product was basically a liquidized Spell that was rarely meant to be ingested.
The Bottled Shower was one such creation. It was a product meant with adventurers and soldiers in mind. Those men and women would surely pay a moderate sum for the ability to instantly wash off the countless types of filth that accompanied their line of work. That went double for melee fighters, as it wasn’t uncommon for them to wind up literally knee deep in monster guts. Travelling merchants and wanderers were sure to appreciate it as well. They sometimes had to go weeks or even months without getting a chance to bathe or wash their clothes. This was an issue since smelling like eighteen wet dogs was not exactly conducive to one’s attempts at peddling wares.
As for the Foundation, their Alchemists were already in love with it. The Bottled Shower had not only proven to be completely safe with a long shelf life, but it also served as an all-purpose disinfectant. Malon’s overzealousness towards facial hair might have been a bit extreme, but no mixologist in their right mind would risk contaminating their experiments with foreign substances. Honoka was particularly fond of it as well, although in her case it was because she was often too caught up in her work to bother with personal hygiene.
Granted, this product lacked the refreshing and relaxing properties of a proper bath, but it was close enough.
“Hmm? What’s that sweet smell?” she asked, sniffing around lightly. “Is that… hylt fruit?”
“Good guess, Professor,” her assistant smiled. “The lads in the R&D department have been experimenting with certain additives. They also have a strawberry and an herbal essence version in the works, too. Apparently, they intend to release it to the general public as a cosmetic product, rather than a strictly hygienic one.”
“Strange. I hadn’t heard anything about this.”
“That’s probably because they only finished this particular batch just yesterday.”
“I see.”
She had been thoroughly preoccupied preparing for Specimen 68’s treatment, so she hadn’t had a chance to catch up with other departments quite yet.
“So… what do you think?” asked the greasy-haired assistant. “I kind of promised the guy I know I’d let him know the, uh, test results.”
“It’s very nice,” Honoka cupped her chin in thought. “The familiar scent of the hylt fruit had a pleasant, calming effect. It was just what I needed after that… incident. However, the liquid still feels really slimy and gross against my skin before it evaporates. Tell them they need to work on that.”
“Will do. Then, if you were to give it a score, what would it be?”
“Nine out of ten, would bottle my shower again.”
Now that Honoka had finished recovering from her mental breakdown- assisting her colleague with a vital experiment, she turned her attention towards the portable alchemy station and finally got down to business.
Normally, one would question whether she truly was in the right frame of mind to handle potentially toxic substances, but neither the guards nor her colleagues said a single word. The former were scared of speaking out of turn, for they were partly to blame that she was so upset in the first place. The image they had of her was one of a strict-yet-fair aunt or older sister that only got mad for their own sake. Sure, she threatened them every now and then, but she still treated them like people rather than samples, which made them want to look out for her as much as they could.
As for the three junior Alchemists, they already knew Honoka dealt with pretty much all her personal issues by drowning herself in work. Her pale skin, overweight body, heavy bags under her eyes, and questionable personal hygiene were all signs of her workaholic tendencies. Indeed, the instant she saddled up to the unpacked porta-lab her eyes immediately became focused, glistening with a manic spark that only showed itself at times like this. Her hands drifted over the various vials and beakers set out atop a foldable table as she quickly took stock of each container’s contents. She moved her arms in short, efficient motions while her quiet voice idly leaked out of her plump lips.
“3 grams of powdered ent root… 24 milliliters of minotaur blood… 4 fresh Moonblossom petals… 50 milliliters of manticore venom… 352 grams of mithril shavings…”
A soft clanking and rustling accompanied her disjointed words as she called out the ingredients and quantities she added to the cauldron. It was impressive how she was able to take such precise measurements without any tools. Her trained fingers told her exactly how much the contents of each vial and beaker weighed while her eyes discerned the exact volume of each material. Combining that information with her intimate knowledge of each ingredient’s properties, including density, allowed her to pull this off so perfectly. Naturally, there were times when this ‘eyeballing’ trick couldn’t be applied, in which case Honoka did not hesitate to use proper measuring tools.
Her almost machine-like workflow was a mesmerizing sight to behold, and the vast majority of the Foundation grunts couldn’t help but stare at her with interest. It was like she was a completely different person. Their previous, wholesome image of her was steadily eroded and supplanted by a far more impressive one – a maestro of mixtures, a virtuoso of vials, and an artist of alchemy. In other words, she was really fucking good at her Job, and even the grunts could tell she had poured thousands of hours into her craft. They honestly started to wonder how come she hadn’t reached Level 100 with that level of skill. Or, for that matter, why she allowed that jerk Malon to boss her around in the first place. It was truly a mystery to them why that creepy fucker was a director, while Honoka, who supposedly had seniority, was still just a department head.
“Catalyze!”
Her chant interrupted their silent reverie and unspoken complaints. The Skill she just invoked made the multi-colored mixture in front of her give off a soft blue light. The contents of the cauldron were then mixed together through the power of an Alchemist’s specialized magic, blending into a lime-green substance in a matter of seconds. Honoka grabbed a silver rod and began stirring the liquid with irregular movements while simultaneously adding yet more ingredients to it with her other hand.
“Air Bubble!”
At one point, she used a basic Shaman Spell to seal off the simmering cauldron’s top with a magical membrane. It kept the bright yellow fumes from escaping out of the top of the silver-plated vessel while allowing her stirring stick and hands to continue augmenting the mixture undisturbed. This incantation was typically used to protect against poison gas or allow the user to breathe underwater for a short time, though it was incapable of stopping solid objects from passing through it. These properties made it perfectly suited to delivering airborne alchemical creations, which was precisely why Honoka had gone out of her way to learn the Spell the hard way, without actually taking up the Shaman Job. It was but one of her small repertoire of seemingly random Spells that had their niche alchemical applications.
“Stun Bolt!”
Next, she blasted the silver cauldron with a short-ranged burst of electricity. The highly-conductive metal transmitted the charge into the mixture, causing a chemical reaction that resulted in a number of loud, consecutive bangs within the vessel. A gust of thick, purple miasma rose up and pressed against the Air Bubble, mixing in with and subsequently devouring the lingering yellow smoke. The guards had more or less broken out of their trance-like state at that point, and were currently whispering among themselves, exchanging words of hushed praise and astonishment.
“Nipple salads!”
Boxxy’s obnoxiously loud and thoroughly nonsensical profanity penetrated the thick door behind them, causing all of their heads to turn as if on a swivel. The earlier prank had gotten to them too, though none of them had showed quite an extreme reaction as Honoka. It was just one more thing they had to add to the growing list of reasons why interacting with Specimen 68 was a bad idea. One by one, their gazes turned back towards the brilliant Alchemist. She was so focused on her work that she had failed to notice the monster’s vocalized obscenities, which was probably for the best.
Whether Boxxy was just trying to mess with whoever might be listening or because it was demanding a literal plate of diced up teats was not something she would want to wonder about.
“I said it before, but Professor Honoka really is something else, isn’t she?” whispered one of the grunts.
“I know. None of the others would let us watch them work,” the man to his right replied in an equally hushed tone. “And I get the impression it’s not just because they don’t want to be disturbed.”
“I know what you mean. I doubt they actually mean anything by it, though. They’re probably just worried we might steal state secrets or something.”
“Yeah, right. As if someone like me has any chance of following along with that.”
The guard jerked his head in the Lifebinder Alchemist’s direction. She was currently holding three separate vials between her left hand’s fingers while relentlessly stirring her concoction in a B-shaped pattern with her right.
“I’ll say,” nodded his comrade in agreement, “but is that stuff she’s making really going to tame that thing?”
“Dunno. Sure seems complicated enough to do the trick, though.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” chimed in the man to their left. “You can bet your life on it.”
“That so?” asked the guy in the middle with a doubtful expression. “And just how are you so sure?”
“If you want the answer to that, you just need to look over yonder.”
He jerked his head to the side, right towards where Zilla was standing in a time out.
“How else do you think they keep that guy under control?” he added.
“Now that you mention it…”
“I always thought it was because he was her pet wardrobe,” offered the elf on the far right.
“He’s what?” asked the other two with mild surprise.
“Yeah, he used to be an actual living wardrobe she’d been taking care of before those eggheads pumped him full of monster bits.”
“They can do that?”
“Apparently,” he shrugged. “I mean, we’re talking about the same guys who made a sentient sword, so anything’s possible.”
