System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 205
What additional compensation could the alchemist offer? Elixirs, bombs, or standard potion formulas.
But Roy recalled an earlier plan, to disguise the young griffin. As it happened, the man before him commanded polymorphic magic.
If he could turn himself into a bird, then surely he could turn the griffin into something else.
“Master Kalkstein, if you want a horse to run fast, you need carrots and oats. I ask for only one thing, your transformation magic.”
“A little vampire wearing a man’s skin! Teaching Witcher magic, that’s like asking a rooster to lay eggs!” The alchemist shrieked theatrically. In his agitation he yanked out a beard hair, his simian face twisting in pain. “Tss ... pick something else!”
“Those scrolls that turn a man into a bird, do you still have any?” Roy did not press. “Could I have a few more?”
“What do you want them for?”
“I’ve got a pet, looks frightening,” Roy gestured in the air, sketching the rough outline of a griffin’s head, “not convenient to keep at my side, not something you bring before the public eye. It needs a more agreeable shape.”
“What kind of pet? Don’t tell me it’s some cat and dog hybrid.” Kalkstein studied the outline, curiosity stirring. His chin seemed to hurt less.
“A rather ordinary magical creature.”
“Interesting. As far as I know, magical creatures are rarely tame.” He paced in circles, then clapped his hands. “Very well. Once you complete the contract ... I will give you something. A Spell Crystal I refined years ago.”
“It has transformation magic fixed within. Feed it a measure of magic, and it will turn a chosen target into a random small animal. Once per day, the transformation lasts a full day. Even a Witcher can trigger it.”
“And the condition?” Roy suppressed the surge of excitement. This was exactly what he needed. With this, the griffin could be carried like a pet. “Such a powerful alchemical item must come with harsh restrictions.”
“Ahem...” Kalkstein’s expression turned awkward. “During the casting, the target must remain still, and must absolutely trust the spellcaster. The slightest resistance, and the magic backfires. The caster becomes the small animal instead.”
“ ... Right.” Roy’s face stiffened. No wonder the man was willing to trade it. In practical terms, it might not even be as useful as a scroll.
Aside from lunatics, no one would willingly turn themselves into a small animal.
But those extreme conditions posed no problem for him. The griffin obeyed him without question.
“Well, have you decided, kid? I charge about a hundred crowns an hour ... I don’t have time to waste.” Kalkstein craned his neck, staring at Roy with eager anticipation. “And what we just discussed, that goes into the agreement!”
“Of course. I’ll draft it at once.”
...
“Kid, you’re sure you want to sign with this alchemist?” The bald Letho set the contract aside, his sharp gaze sweeping Kalkstein from head to toe. The latter met it head-on, bristling, beard trembling.
“That’s why I’m asking you, Letho. What do you think?”
“No problem signing, but to ensure your safety...” Letho considered. “Master Kalkstein, the contract needs an additional clause concerning the second party’s safety, with magical enforcement, in case of mishap.”
“If anything happens to Roy, you pay the price. The penalty includes, but is not limited to, death.”
The alchemist bared his teeth in a grin. “Only fair. We’ll do it that way. Once I finish the revised contract, you can review it.”
Roy had preparations of his own. He would leave his weapons with Letho. If anything went wrong during the mission, he would immediately use his innate teleportation to escape.
Of course, after the transformation, he would need to test whether it still worked.
...
The next day, the red sun rose behind the towering Foltest Castle. A grim man with a headscarf and earrings stepped out from a two-story villa near the castle, accompanied by a sharp-faced, almost artistic-looking man. Arms slung over each other’s shoulders, they laughed and talked as they headed away.
A moment later, a small bird, covered in yellow feathers with only its eyes and the inner edges of its wings touched with black, chirped as it leapt from a branch. It flew over lines of patrolling soldiers, then turned toward the villa.
The oriole circled once. All windows were sealed tight, no gaps. It flew to the roof, hopped along, then perched atop the chimney. Its head, tipped with a touch of black feather, peered inside. After a moment, its entire body slipped into the flue and vanished.
Inside the villa, the spacious ground-floor hall lay in darkness, silent. Then, from the fireplace along the front wall, came faint, strange chirps. A small shadow dropped onto the ash pile, then hopped into the room.
It stood there, tilting its head, scanning its surroundings in silence. Its bead-like eyes flickered with a human wariness.
Soon, it spotted the staircase leading to the second floor. Its eyes brightened. With a flutter, it landed on the first step, careful not to touch the furniture or the floorboards along the way.
It paused there for a few seconds. No movement. Then it flapped upward again, clumsily clearing three steps at a time, no more, no less.
Another three steps.
For an oriole, controlling flight distance in a narrow space was difficult. Once, it fell just short, landing at the edge of a step. One foot slipped, its body wobbling absurdly from side to side. Had its other claw not gripped tight, it would have fallen, perhaps the first bird in history to trip down stairs.
But it recovered. At last, it reached the second floor.
The upper level was divided into several sections, some deep within, swallowed by darkness. That was not its destination. It followed a peculiar curved path, hopping all the way to a room.
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