"You think you'll find an ancient relic? What makes this time any different?"
"What other choice do I have? We don't have the money to pay for his treatment. Jade's alchemical products were blacklisted from the Clocktower Market."
Noland adjusted his goggles. Using magic, a blue mist siphoned a light-blue liquid bubbling out from the side of a ruined construct that jutted from the chemical ocean surrounding them. It weaved through the air, illuminating the sickly yellowish-orange hue, and into the metal canister he was holding. He twisted the cap and it hissed angrily.
"Seal's good," Noland muttered to himself, placing the glowing blue canister into a metal box welded into the back of the boat. He nestled it between two other canisters. They glowed a soft silver hue and an angry red, casting strange reflections across his mask.
These were your average hazardous chemicals Noland usually scavenged from sources that never seemed to run out despite the endless years collecting them. Due to the danger involved in collecting it, the pay was lucrative as well. Almost enough to convince a man that risking his lungs, skin, and sanity was worth it.
Almost.
"Should you be risking this with Fenrik as sick as he is? Just continue collecting chemicals like you always have and in a few months we'll have enough saved up. Jade's issue with the Clocktower merchants might be resolved before then too."
"That won't happen," Noland shook his head. "They control the flow of wealth and won't allow her to trade independently. Her products are too good and if she accepts their proposal then all of that profit will flow up in fees and 'royalties.'"
Noland frowned as he recalled more of Lucky's objections. The memory stung even now.
Lucky, his partner who grew up in the same orphanage as him, had expressed concern when Noland suggested exploring deeper into the Chemical Sea. If Noland had an unnatural talent for magic, Lucky was gifted when it came to engineering and other hands-on jobs. Together they kept Fenrik's tiny workshop alive long after the man himself could barely stand.
Placing one gloved hand on the metal rudder, Noland extended the other toward the rear as he began to channel magic again. A strong current of air flowed out, slowly beginning to propel the boat forward and parting the chemical waters around his boat's metal hull.
"I've scavenged the sea with Fenrik ever since I could walk," Noland continued. "I'm the only one continuing Fenrik's dream while the rest of you went your own ways. You think I don't know how dangerous the seas are after all this time?"
Through the thin cloth covering his mask, Noland could still smell the Chemical Sea. Sometimes the vapors were so strong that he couldn't breathe. His lungs would be on fire and other times it felt like he wasn't getting enough air.
"Damn it, Noland!" Lucky slammed his hands on his workshop table, gesturing at people out the window with mutilated appearances. Some had skin patches that were bubbled, others blackened, and others with chunks of their flesh completely missing.
"Look at those people! Each one of their disfigurations was caused by exposure to the chemicals!"
He continued, gesturing toward Noland pleadingly. "The city is always short of alchemists and engineers. Talented magic users are always in demand too! Stop risking your life going out there..."
Metal protested as a hook snagged around a large iron rod protruding out from the sea, whining as Noland pulled his boat alongside it. He squinted toward the horizon, judging he still had a few hours left before dawn, and gingerly stepped onto the rusted surface.
The metal groaned beneath his weight.
"Fenrik lived his life for us. He gave up everything for us. I'm not waiting months. You've seen how he is. He can die before then. I'm going."
A short beam of fire shot out from Noland's hand. He pressed it along the seams of the hatch and heard sizzling. A loud pop echoed when it finally broke, tilting inward.
Exhaling, Noland waited for a few minutes for it to cool before he'd heave it up and throw it over the side. He peered down the hole, cracked a glow worm, and threw it down. The greenish light illuminated rusted rails and warped shadows that twisted unnaturally at the edges.
"Fuck," Noland gulped and clutched a pendant of their religion. A featureless man holding a globe on his back, encircled by a golden ring. Fenrik said this would protect him against god's prying eyes but he found himself praying into it more times than he could count. Especially out here.
He stopped and listened, leaned over the exposed hatch, but heard nothing beyond the hissing and popping of the chemical sea. The silence inside the structure felt heavier than the air outside.
His heavy boots impacted the wet metal floor with a splash and heavy whine. The whole structure shifted as he held onto the ladder. It felt like someone put a hole in his stomach and dialed everything up to eleven in his body. Nausea, fear, adrenaline, it all churned together.
Chemical waters pooled at his feet, creating a small splash when he moved while the metal door that would've separated the room was almost submerged. No more than a few centimeters deep.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Noland cracked three more glow worms. He stuck one onto his back, one onto his chest, and held the other in his hand. He looked over the rails to his left see the stairs leading down were completely flooded before looking ahead again.
Slosh. Slosh.
No matter how quietly he tried to move, it echoed unpleasantly. The room beyond was a large, open workspace. Desks with cabinets, unusual purple glowing liquid dripping from what looked like lighting panels in the popcorn ceiling, and distorted film floating across the chemical surface.
Whomever lived or worked here before, they tried to make the metal chassis look more welcoming on the interior.
The center of the room had a large, empty table with glass vials and other alchemical-looking tools, some still containing liquids of various sorts. A few were tilted off to the side where the bottoms were cracked, whatever liquid had poured out discoloring the table around it.
Make sure there are no other entrances... Noland swallowed, carefully sweeping the room and staying alert for any sounds other than his footsteps. Every shadow looked like it might move.
There was one other staircase with the staircase symbol dangling loosely above it, but it was barricaded with wooden beams that had yet to fall apart with the passage of time.
Alright, time to get to work!
Most surfaces had discolored surfaces from chemical sprays, painting the them like a petri dish of different colors. Dusty metal cabinets, scrap metal hazardously strewn about, nothing all that awe-inspiring. Worn-down, almost unusable parchment, and tools that were brittle to touch let alone use.
I feel the profit raining down on me.
All the cabinets and drawers were openable. Some were noticeably broken into by force while others were jammed or locked tight.
Nuts, bolts, screws, and rollers. That was the most he'd found.
They're going to be mad, Noland thought, shifting his pouch of collected metal bits and bobs.
Halfway through the room, he opened another set of drawers and tilted his head. A smaller metallic box was nestled neatly in the cabinet. He reached in and pulled it out carefully, placing it onto the table. The latch was a simple draw latch which didn't really prompt him to be that excited when he opened it and...
Eh?
Several pristine-looking bottles, unmarked, were next to a book. Noland picked up the book and opened it but shook his head.
I don't understand any of this. Jade might have a clue, she's always in the library...
Closing the lid, his eyes wandered the surface before he noticed a flicker of light from his glow worm he'd thrown previously.
"The fuck?!"