Chapter 50

As Atlas observed the Cathayan alchemist at work, a sense of respect mingled with his usual disdain for mortal affairs. The potions administered by the robed figure worked wonders, their effects akin to the magic he wielded but with a different, more tangible quality. Wounds that had seemed fatal moments before now closed before his eyes, leaving behind nought but scarred flesh and hardened resolve.

The alchemist's skill was undeniable, and Atlas found himself intrigued by the potential of such knowledge. While his own power lay in the arcane arts, the alchemists of Cathay wielded a different kind of magic—one rooted in the physical world and the properties of matter itself.

In the Iron Dragon's cities, where alchemy reigned supreme, such potions were no doubt commonplace, used to bolster the ranks of soldiers and heroes alike. And as Atlas watched the injured Cathayan troops rise to their feet, their strength renewed and their determination unshaken, he couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for the mortal craftsmen who had saved them.

Perhaps, he mused, there was more to be learned from the alchemists of Cathay than he had previously thought.

As Atlas watched the Cathayan alchemist work his craft, a new plan began to form in his mind. While enchanted weapons held their own allure, which is what he was going to demand, the knowledge and skill of the alchemist seemed far more valuable in the long run. With their expertise in the manipulation of matter and energy, the alchemists of Cathay could accelerate his own learning and even improve his current creations; the Caldron of Blood and the Sarcaugus.

Instead of demanding a weapon, Atlas resolved to seek out the alchemist and offer an exchange of knowledge. Together, they could unlock new realms of power, blending the mystical and the mundane to create wonders beyond imagination.

With this decision made, Atlas turned his attention back to the battlefield, where the last remnants of the goblin horde were being routed by his undead minions. As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, he set off in search of the Cathayan alchemist, his mind ablaze with visions of the alchemical wonders they could create together.

As Atlas approached the Cathay convoy, the Jade Warriors sprang into action, their emerald armour gleaming in the sunlight as they formed a defensive line. "Halt!" one of them commanded, their tone firm and authoritative.

"What business do you have here?" another demanded, their gaze sharp and unyielding.

Atlas, unfazed by the display of martial prowess, raised an eyebrow in amusement at their bravado. "Ah, how touching," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I come to your aid in battle, saving your lives from the clutches of goblin savages, and this is the gratitude I receive? Truly heartwarming."

The Jade Warriors exchanged wary glances, their hands tightening around the hilts of their weapons. They were clearly unimpressed by Atlas's jest, their stance indicating their readiness for combat should the need arise.

"We shall not submit to be blood thralls. Not to you. Not to anyone!" At Atlas's dead-pan stare, the warrior continued on with false bravado. "Come closer and you will feel the bite of might Cathay!"

Atlas, unfazed by the Jade Warriors' defiance, raises an eyebrow in amusement at their bravado. "Blood thralls, you say?" he muses, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I assure you, I have no interest in enslaving you. I seek knowledge, not thralls."

His words are laced with a subtle threat, a reminder of his power and the folly of opposing him. But before tensions can escalate further, he raises a hand in a placating gesture. "But if you prefer to try your steel against my legions of dead, your fate is sealed."

The warrior's eyes scanned the battlefield with growing concern gnawing at their gut. Atlas army had taken losses, serious casualties that littered the battleground with crumbled and crushed bones. However unlike mortal armies, his force only grows after a battle. The spiders and goblins that nearly crushed them rose up as undead only adding to Atlas forces. Even the great arachnid that the shaman rode had been risen as a greater undead; waiting to serve a new master.

With that, Atlas turned away from the Jade Warriors, and began to take slow steps away.

Step.

Step.

St… Before Atlas's foot could take its third step, a voice called out.

"Wait." This time it was someone else, a far more respectful tone in his voice. Atlas turned to see the alchemist pushing him in front of the wall of green shields to speak to his unlikely ally. "We have no grudge with you or your kind."

Atlas rubbed his chin as gazed up and then down, taking in every detail. The Cathay Alchemist stood among his companions, distinguished by the intricate robes he wore, adorned with intricate symbols and mystical sigils embroidered in shimmering threads of gold and silver. His attire marked him as a master of his craft, a scholar of the arcane arts.

His face was weathered, etched with the lines of wisdom and experience, yet his eyes sparkled with an unmistakable vitality and intelligence. Behind spectacles of polished crystal, his gaze was keen and discerning, betraying the depths of his knowledge and the sharpness of his intellect.

In his hands, he held a small vial, its contents glimmering with an otherworldly radiance. With practised precision, he moved with a grace that spoke of years spent in study and mastery, his every gesture deliberate and purposeful.

Despite his imposing presence, there was a sense of quiet humility about him, an understated confidence born not of arrogance but of true understanding. He was a guardian of secrets, a keeper of forbidden knowledge, and in his presence, one could not help but feel a sense of reverence for the mysteries of the universe that he had unlocked.

"We are grateful for your intervention in our aid. We have faced more threats and ambushes than expected, our guard rota has grown thin."

"And getting thinner." Atlas nodded his head to the bodies of the fallen soldiers. He had not risen them up, even though he was sorely tempted. He needed to make a good impression for many of his plans to come to fruition.

With a grimace at the reminder of the challenges that lay ahead of the convoy, he reluctantly nodded. "I am Yin-Tuan, an alchemist serving this great merchant caravan." 

"Atlas Von Carstein." He saw a flicker of recognition at his surname. It seemed even Vlad was famous in the far East of the known world.

"Let us speak plain. You had no obligation to save our lives. You did, which implies you seek something from us. Speak it and we shall do our best to oblige you."

Atlas smiled, Yin-Tuan was the sort of mortal he appreciated most – direct.

"What I seek… yes. Plenty to discuss. For now, let's start with …"