"It should be getting late already," Heron muttered, glancing at the clock hanging on the library wall.
He turned back toward Aurelian and continued, "I will be heading out now. I need to gather some herbs for the pill I plan on refining this evening."
'Pill?' Aurelian thought. 'Is he an alchemist?'
"I didn't take you for an alchemist," Aurelian said. He kept his tone neutral, wanting to prompt an answer without sounding like he was prying into the old man's business.
"More of a pill refiner," Heron clarified. "The term alchemist is generally reserved for those who don't use magic in their refinement process. My work requires a bit more... internal spark."
"I see. Well, I'm somewhat of an alchemist myself," Aurelian replied, pausing for a moment before correcting himself. "Or should I say, a pill refiner."
Heron paused, visibly surprised by the claim. "You are an alchemist?"
Lysander, who had been standing by the bookshelves, watched the exchange with a look of pure exasperation.
'Can't we have enough of this guy showing off?' Lysander thought, his gaze burning a hole into the back of Aurelian's head. 'He's an alchemist now, too? Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? At this rate, the man will probably turn around and tell us he resides in a palace on Olympus. I'm waiting for the lightning bolts to start falling from his eyes next.'
"Interesting..." Heron said, stroking his chin as he re-evaluated the young man in front of him. "A man of many talents, it seems. Do you need my help with anything before I go?"
"Not much in the way of help," Aurelian said, shaking his head. "Rather, I would like some information concerning some specific materials I wish to purchase."
"The materials I am looking for are fairly specific," Aurelian began. He reached into his sea of modern knowledge, and with the help of his increased intelligence stats, he filtered out the complex chemicals and industrial terms that wouldn't exist in this world. "I need a large quantity of high-quality animal fat—tallow from cattle would be best. I also need wood ash, specifically from hardwoods like oak, and a significant amount of sea salt."
Heron raised an eyebrow, his surprise shifting into genuine curiosity. "Fat and ash? Those are common enough for making basic lye-wash, but they are harsh on the skin and smell like a dead hearth. What exactly are you planning to refine with such crude ingredients?"
Aurelian leaned against a nearby table. "I intend to create a solid cleansing agent. Something that removes oil and dirt from the skin without stripping the flesh raw. The current methods we use—scraping ourselves with oil and metal strigils or using raw lye—are inefficient and often cause more irritation than needed. If the body is truly clean, it stands a better chance against the rots and fevers that plague some cities."
Heron nodded slowly, his expression becoming solemn. "You speak truly that many of us in this have long pondered. I have seen many men die from simple infections that started with a dirty wound. Many have tried to improve our washing efficiency to reduce these unnecessary deaths, but few have succeeded in making anything pleasant or portable. Most 'improvements' are either too expensive for the common man or simply don't work."
The old man stepped closer, looking Aurelian in the eye. "If you have truly found a way to balance the bite of the ash with the softness of the fat into a single, usable block... you won't just be a pill refiner, Aurelian. You will make a fortune. The Merchant Guilds and the military would pay handsomely for a way to keep their men healthy and would be eager to get rid of the healing mages that charge so heavily because of their magic."
Lysander, hearing the mention of a fortune, perked up slightly, though he still looked skeptical. 'A block of fat that makes you clean? It sounds like more of his "pull-up" logic. But if there's gold in it, I suppose I can help his little experiments.'
"The secret is in the temperature and the salt," Aurelian added, keeping the exact process of saponification vague. "The salt helps separate the impurities, leaving a solid curd that can be molded."
"Fascinating," Heron muttered. "You can find the finest tallow at the butcher's block near the eastern gate. For the ash, go to the kilns in the potters' quarter; they burn nothing but oak. As for the salt, the harbor warehouses have more than they can store."
Heron adjusted his cloak, preparing to leave. "I must go for my herbs now, but I expect to see a sample of this 'solid wash' when I return. If it works as you say, I may have some connections that could help you move your product."
"I'll have a sample ready," Aurelian promised.
********
The following hours were a blur as Aurelian and Lysander moved through the industrial districts of Gasok, gathering the bulkier items on the list. At the potters' quarter, they secured several sacks of fine, white hardwood ash from the kilns. Lysander complained loudly about the soot staining his chiton, but Aurelian ignored him, focused on the mission.
At the eastern gate, they visited the massive butchery. The smell was heavy, but the tallow was plentiful. Aurelian inspected the rendered fat, choosing the cleanest slabs of beef tallow available. By the time they finished, their arms were full, and the only item remaining was the sea salt.
They made their way down to the harbor, where the salt warehouses lined the docks. Aurelian approached a merchant sitting behind a weathered wooden desk. The man looked tired, his eyes fixed on the empty horizon of the sea.
"I need fifty pounds of sea salt," Aurelian said, placing a silver coin on the desk.
The merchant looked at the coin and then back at Aurelian, shaking his head. "I could take your silver, lad, but I have nothing to give you in return. There is a scarcity of salt in Gasok."
Aurelian frowned. "In a port city? How is that possible?"
"A sea monster," the merchant explained, gesturing toward the ocean banks. "A massive, scaled beast has plagued the salt pans and the shoreline for months. My workers can't get near the water to harvest, and the trade ships are too afraid to dock. We've sent word to the capitol, but the military is tied up in the war at Troy. They won't spare a single trireme for a small, poor city like ours."
"What about the Magi Association?" Lysander chimed in, stepping forward. "Surely they have a responsibility to protect the trade routes."
The merchant let out a cynical laugh. "The Magi Association doesn't give a damn about Gasok. Unless there is big money to be made, they won't lift a finger. They told us to handle it ourselves or wait for the war to end."
Aurelian looked out at the water. The sun was beginning its descent. He didn't have time to wait, and he didn't have time to travel to another city. Thaleia was waiting for him in Athens, and he had promised himself he would head back tomorrow.
"Where exactly is this beast?" Aurelian asked.
The merchant pointed toward a jagged stretch of coastline a few miles north. "The northern salt pans. But don't be a fool. Three armed guards went there last week; only one came back, and he's missing his mind."
Aurelian turned to Lysander. "Wait here with the ash and the fat."
"Wait, what?" Lysander's eyes widened. "You're going after a sea monster for... for salt? Aurelian, this is madness. We can just buy it somewhere else on the way back!"
"I need the salt today," Aurelian said, his voice flat and determined. "I'm not going back to Athens empty-handed because a fish is blocking the road."
Ignoring Lysander's, Aurelian turned and began walking toward the northern shore. He wasn't going to let a beast stand between him and his plans.