Chapter Four – Jenna and Perx

  Igniday, 9 Tamihr, Year of Folivor the Restful Sloth, 489 AWA

  Candibaru, Andovarra

  Sunlight glinted off the azure glass vials displayed in the shop window as Jennalin Adthar and Perx Loren emerged from Azure Alchemists. The afternoon crowd of Candibaru's merchant district parted around them—giving the grizzled half-Elf wizard a slightly wider berth than his Elven companion.

  "Please, Perx?" Jenna's green eyes widened in that particular way she'd perfected over years of street survival. "My shoulders are killing me from all this equipment."

  She gestured to the collection of alchemist's fire and tanglefoot bags weighing down her pack. Though capable of moving silently through the shadows with preternatural grace, the slender Elf was clearly struggling with her current burden.

  Perx sighed, an exhalation that carried decades of exasperation. "You should have considered weight distribution before filling your

  pack with volatile components." Despite his words, his weathered hands reached out to take the supplies when she offered them, tucking them efficiently into his Handy Haversack.

  "That's better," Jenna whispered with genuine relief. She briefly closed her eyes as the weight lifted from her shoulders. "Take these too?" She pulled out a coil of silk rope and her bedroll, offering them with a hopeful smile that didn't quite hide the calculation behind it.

  "I almost bought an entire alchemy lab," she explained, shifting her weight from one foot to another—a habit from her youth when standing still meant becoming a target. "They only had the portable version, though. I think I want the full setup eventually."

  "Absolutely ridiculous to transport," Perx muttered, adjusting his spectacles with his free hand. His mind was already calculating the weight distribution in his Haversack, cataloging every ounce with mathematical precision. "If you genuinely want to learn alchemical crafting, you could have simply purchased materials for a few tanglefoot bags or alchemist's fire."

  "I want to make those too," Jenna added, her smile brightening. "But I need steady income first." She paused, her expression shifting to one of careful vulnerability that Perx had come to recognize. "If you wouldn't mind, I need one more favor."

  The Half-Elven wizard narrowed his eyes. Years at sea had taught him to recognize when someone was about to make a play. "Now what?" he asked, voice roughened by decades of shouting orders across storm-tossed decks. "You're not dragging me into some ill-conceived heist, are you?"

  A shadow crossed his face at the thought. In his former life as ‘Captain Steelsilk’, he'd ordered his crew to take plenty that wasn't theirs by right. The blood and tears that followed had eventually driven him to abandon the pirate's life for the ordered logic of arcane study.

  The last thing he wanted was for Jenna to follow a similar path to regret.

  "Of course not," Jenna replied, looking genuinely hurt by the suggestion. After a moment's hesitation, she added, "I was hoping you could lend me 100 gold pieces."

  "What in the tarnation of Thorian's wrath for?" Perx's voice boomed loud enough to draw startled glances from passersby.

  Jenna didn't flinch. She'd learned that the older man's thunderous exterior concealed a methodical mind and, more importantly, a conscience that constantly sought balance for past misdeeds. "For the alchemist's lab," she explained. "I've only saved about half of what I need."

  Perx's expression shifted to something more contemplative. His fingers tapped against his thigh in rhythm with his calculations. "If I did this," he began slowly, working through each variable as he spoke, "you'd still need capital for components. What would that additional expenditure amount to?"

  "About seven gold per flask of alchemist's fire and approximately seventeen per tanglefoot bag," Jenna answered without hesitation. She'd clearly done her research. "Of course, factoring in failed attempts, the average cost per successful creation will be somewhat higher."

  "And your projected success rate?" he asked, now fully engaged in the problem.

  Jenna's gaze drifted upward and to the right as she performed the mental calculations—a gesture Perx had noticed she made whenever actively processing complex information rather than reciting something memorized.

  "The alchemist's fire will be more technically challenging than the tanglefoot bags," she analyzed. "With a proper lab setup, I estimate slightly better than even probability for the fire—perhaps 55% success rate. For the bags, approximately two successes for every three attempts—around 67%. Those percentages should improve with practice and refinement of technique."

  Her precise assessment surprised him. The girl was far more methodical than she let on.

  Perx had been setting aside coin for a scroll containing an obscure transmutation spell he'd been seeking—another potential piece in the teleportation puzzle he'd been trying to solve for years. But if Jenna could generate a return on this investment... He performed his own calculations.

  One hundred for the lab, plus twenty-one gold for materials for three tanglefoot bags, and fifty-one for three alchemist's fires. A total of 172 gold pieces. He had that much, but it would delay his research.

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  "I'll make you a proposition," he said finally. "If you can source any components through foraging rather than purchase, and arrange transportation for the lab, I'll finance the remainder plus materials for three bags and three fires." He raised a finger in warning. "But I expect repayment. Do you have a plan for that contingency?"

  Jenna's eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "I have a ranger friend who owes me a favor. I can ask him to help with the gathering tonight. If I'm lucky and he's available tomorrow, we could go then." A shadow of calculation passed across her features. "And I have an idea for paying you back, but I'll need either you or him to accompany me." The shadow lifted, replaced by hopeful enthusiasm.

  "Want to get a drink to celebrate our arrangement?"

  "Fine, girl," Perx muttered as they began walking. Then a thought occurred to him. "This ranger who owes you—you don't mean that

  Oriovar fellow, do you?" Irritation colored his tone.

  He'd encountered the man once and immediately distrusted him. Years navigating the criminal underbelly of coastal cities had honed

  Perx's instincts for dangerous men, and something in Oriovar's calculating gaze when he looked at Jenna set off every warning bell in the former pirate's mind.

  His protective instinct wasn't romantic in nature—rather, he saw in Jenna a chance for redemption. Throughout his years commanding the Tempest's Embrace, he'd left a wake of orphans and broken families behind him. The weight of those decisions had grown heavier with each passing year until finally, during a raid on a merchant vessel from Tindavarro Province, he'd looked into the terrified eyes of a young Elven child and seen himself—the frightened boy he'd once been before hate and ambition had hardened him.

  He'd walked away that day, leaving his crew muttering about their captain going soft. Now, years later, helping Jenna seemed like one small way to balance the scales.

  "I do mean Ori," Jenna confirmed with a hint of amusement. "And he's harmless as long as I keep him well-supplied with drink."

  Perx wasn't convinced. Something in the ranger's eyes spoke of careful planning and patience—a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Jenna was capable, certainly—survival on Candibaru's unforgiving streets had forged her into someone both tough and adaptable—but Perx's years commanding cutthroats had taught him never to underestimate the damage one determined person could inflict.

  "What did you have in mind for earning the repayment?" he asked finally, deciding to hear her plan before passing judgment.

  "The Trials of Eight end in two days," Jenna replied, a spark of excitement illuminating her features. "Finishing in fifth place guarantees 100 gold minimum, with greater rewards for higher placements. A friend purchased an entry for two participants, and I... convinced him to part with it during a game of chance." Her lips curved into a mischievous smile at the memory.

  If Perx knew Jenna—and he was beginning to think he did—the 'game of chance' likely involved some combination of alcohol, distraction, and sleight of hand. But that wasn't his concern at the moment.

  He'd heard whispers about these Trials, with their mysterious wildshard-based illusory combat scenarios. His younger self would have leapt at such an opportunity, just as Jenna was doing now. The logical part of his mind had already dismissed them as a fool's errand, but something else—perhaps the remnant of the adventurous captain he'd once been—stirred with interest.

  "You're entrusting your success to six strangers?" he asked skeptically, one eyebrow arched.

  "Not exactly," Jenna hedged, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her pointed ear. "The man I won the entries from is friends with a Halfling bard I know. He purchased slots in the same timeframe as the Halfling, who mentioned that a ranger friend of his and some woman the ranger knows would make up another pair in that same slot. The bard hasn't decided on his partner yet, but that accounts for at least four of us. Five if you join me."

  "And you've never fought alongside any of them before," Perx stated flatly. It wasn't a question.

  "Yes, Perx," Jenna replied with practiced patience, "but I've never fought with you or Ori either, and I'd trust both of you with my life."

  She studied his expression for a moment. "I can ask Ori instead if you're not feeling up to it."

  The thought of Jenna entering the Trials with Oriovar as her sole ally sent an uncomfortable chill down Perx's spine. The puzzle pieces of his decision arranged themselves neatly in his mind—risk versus reward, probability of success, unknown variables to account for.

  But beneath all that cool logic burned something rarely acknowledged—concern.

  "I feel perfectly capable," he replied gruffly. "Fine. I'll accompany you."

  Sometimes Jenna reminded him so painfully of his younger self that it ached—brilliant and resourceful, yet walking a dangerous path without fully understanding where it led. If he could guide her toward a better future than the one he'd chosen at her age... perhaps that would be worth more than any spell research.

  "That's wonderful, Perx. I genuinely appreciate it," Jenna beamed up at him, her smile unguarded for once. "The Trials are being held in the celebration grounds where they host the annual Founding Day fair. You're familiar with the location?"

  "Aye, girl. I know it," Perx replied. "What time is our appointed slot?"

  "Fourteen bells, but we need to arrive at least twenty minutes prior. Would you prefer to meet there, or shall we travel together?"

  "I'll meet you at the entrance at thirteen-and-a-half bells," he decided, already mentally adjusting his morning research schedule to accommodate this commitment.

  "Perfect," Jenna agreed. "See you then."

  As they parted ways at the next intersection, Jenna's thoughts turned to the possibilities the Trials might present. Perhaps among the competitors or spectators, she might find someone who remembered her father's face or had heard whispers of an Elf matching his description. Every gathering was an opportunity to collect fragments of information—tiny pieces of the puzzle she'd been assembling since childhood.

  The memory of her mother's disappearance was little more than a child's impression—a room suddenly empty, the lingering scent of sulfur, and the haunted look in her father's eyes afterward. Then, mere months later, he too had vanished, leaving only cryptic instructions with their neighbor to "keep her hidden" and a promise that he would return once he found a way to free her mother from "the contract."

  Jenna had spent years searching through every scrap of information she could find about Infernal Contracts, learning that her mother's fate—whatever it was—likely lay beyond the material plane entirely. Her father's whereabouts remained an equal mystery, though occasional rumors of an Elven man matching his description surfaced from time to time, always in connection with obscure magical research or ancient tomes.

  The Trials of Eight, with its gathering of adventurers and chance for royal attention, might yield new leads. And if not... well, the prize money would certainly help fund her continuing search.

  Meanwhile, Perx's mind had already turned to the arcane puzzle that had consumed his recent years. Water—vast expanses of it—somehow interfered with conventional teleportation magic in ways that defied standard arcane theory. His experiences as a sea captain had shown him firsthand how valuable such magic would be, potentially saving countless lives lost to storms and shipwrecks.

  Creating a spell that could safely transport individuals across oceanic distances would require innovations in multiple schools of magic—not just conjuration, but abjuration to protect against the disruptive properties of wildshards, divination to maintain locational accuracy despite the constant motion of the waves, and perhaps even elements of transmutation to temporarily alter the magical signature of the traveler.

  The Trials might offer unexpected insights. The Thought-Weave effect reportedly used wildshards in ways that conventional magic did not, creating connections across distances that might parallel some aspects of teleportation.

  It wasn't until two hours later, deep in the equations of a potential spell formula, that Perx realized he had forgotten to return Jenna's belongings.