Chapter : 12 Beginner Alchemist’s Healing Potion (3)
“Captain, a guest has arrived.”
“A guest?”
At the adjutant’s report, the man’s thick eyebrows moved.
Even without his red officer uniform or the title of “battalion commander,” anyone could easily tell he was a soldier from his strong and disciplined appearance.
He frowned slightly at the unknown visitor who had come without an appointment, right as work was ending for the day.
But the moment he recognized the face entering his office, the “unwanted guest” quickly became a “guest.”
“Oh, Officer Vaila.”
“I’m sorry for coming without notice, Lieutenant Dantress.”
A woman dressed in a simple, modest outfit—like a textbook example of a civil servant uniform.
She was Vaila Carrion, the Calpheon Imperial Delivery Inspector, with sharp eyes.
“Not at all. Hey, adjutant, bring her some tea.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll only be here briefly.”
Vaila waved her hand before the adjutant could even respond.
The adjutant looked at Dantress for permission. With a nod from him, the adjutant saluted and left the office.
“What brings you all the way here personally?”
“Nothing special. I just wanted to check if there’s any adjustment needed regarding that healing potion.”
“Ah, I see.”
Dantress cleared his throat and began speaking as if reading a prepared report.
“For now, we are testing it in small-scale operations such as harpy subjugation and minor clashes with cultists. The results are excellent.
In fact, the soldiers don’t even believe the official usage interval and are taking it every three to four hours instead.
It’s hard to believe a potion this effective has a usage interval of less than one hour.”
“That’s good.”
Vaila nodded with a faint, satisfied smile.
“I will test it further in real combat situations and consult with the army physicians before submitting a formal report.
If this becomes our standard military healing potion, it will greatly improve many operations—”
“No, Lieutenant. Do not submit the report.”
A short silence filled the room.
Dantress looked at Vaila’s steady eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat.
“…I’m sorry, but what do you mean?”
“I cannot explain everything, but due to circumstances involving the artisan who produces this potion, mass production and full-scale supply are not yet ready.
I am personally working to resolve the issue, so please do not submit the report for now and wait.”
“Ah, I understand. I will keep that in mind.”
Dantress smiled and nodded.
But he was not foolish.
A request to delay a report after confirming the potion’s effectiveness could have been handled with a single official document.
There was no need for the officer herself to come all the way to a remote base.
So there were only two possible reasons she came personally:
She did not want an official paper record of the potion yet, while still testing its real combat performance.
And she likely wanted to keep the identity of the “creator” hidden a bit longer.
“I believe I’ve understood you. I will take my leave now. I’ve kept you from leaving work.”
“It’s fine, Officer. Please come anytime.”
“Thank you.”
A firm soldier’s hand and a soft woman’s hand shook.
Vaila left the office, escorted by Dantress and the adjutant waiting outside.
After she left, Dantress returned to his desk and sat down. The adjutant quietly approached.
“Sir.”
“What is it?”
“May I ask something?”
“What?”
Even though the door was closed, the adjutant’s gaze still drifted toward it.
“Wasn’t that the Imperial Delivery Inspector of Calpheon?”
“Yes.”
“Then she’s someone who only inspects and reports imperial supply goods every few months…
So I don’t understand why commanders like you are so intimidated by her.”
“You just answered your own question. You don’t understand, that’s why you say that.”
“I mean—”
“Do you know she used to be the chief warrant officer at Central Army Headquarters before she retired?”
The sharpness in Dantress’s eyes made the adjutant’s voice shrink.
“Yes… I’ve heard that.”
“And do you know what portion of essential military supplies go through imperial delivery under her supervision?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Forty percent.”
Before the adjutant could even react, Dantress continued.
“Forty percent of all supplies for the entire army pass through her hands.
And not only that—she also directly connects potion makers with military units, like in this case.”
“Wow… she must make a lot of money.”
The adjutant said it casually, but Dantress gave a short laugh.
“No. The scarier thing is that she never takes bribes.”
The adjutant’s eyes widened in shock.
“…That’s even scarier.”
“She’s someone even generals can’t treat lightly. If I, just a battalion commander, get on her bad side, what do you think happens to me?”
“I understand completely, sir.”
In other words,
for craftsmen and workshops, gaining Vaila’s approval was the fastest path to recognition.
She was practically the one who created the culture of treating imperial suppliers as masters or experts.
But there was something most people did not understand.
Simply succeeding in imperial delivery was not enough to earn Vaila’s personal recognition.
In fact,
anyone who truly understood Vaila Carrion, and knew the real reason she held her position,
would understand how terrifying it was to be “noticed” by her.
Because she was not someone who gave casual approval.
Dantress, being one of the few who understood this, silently offered a short prayer of sympathy for the unknown potion maker.
“Congratulations.”
“Hmm?”
On a peaceful weekend afternoon.
Still half asleep, Rotem looked back and forth between Juno’s face and the wine bottle she was holding.
Juno frowned at his dull reaction.
“What’s with you? I came to celebrate.”
“Celebrate? What?”
“You don’t know what day tomorrow is?”
“Tomorrow?”
Rotem tilted his head, trying to think.
But before he could answer, Juno sighed and shoved the wine bottle into his chest.
“It’s the last day of your contract. You’re finally getting out of being a slave, you idiot.”
“Ah…”
“‘Ah’? That’s it?”
Calling him an idiot was a bit harsh.
It wasn’t that Rotem didn’t care—he just felt nothing in particular.
The past few months, preparing healing potions for imperial delivery, had blurred the meaning of his “slave” status.
Creating potions on special request, washing truffles, gathering materials, production, inspection…
It didn’t really feel like slave labor anymore.
At the same time, the villagers’ attitude toward him had changed.
Florin Village, home of the Shai, was not a place of poverty.
There was always demand for alchemy goods like potions and elixirs.
So the village always had work.
But it was also not a place of true prosperity.
Close to the capital, Calpheon, Florin was economically dependent on it.
Demand never stopped, but pricing and trade were controlled by Calpheon.
The Cyan Trading Company and central merchants strictly managed the village’s limits.
Not too much work, not too little.
Not too much reward, not too little.
The artisans were always busy but still had enough time to rest in the evening.
And the Shai of Florin had grown used to this “balanced life.”
…Until Rotem and the other slaves arrived.
“Now that I think about it, it’s a bit strange.”
Juno poured wine into Rotem’s cup while looking up at him.
“What is?”
“You always said you were busy, but it wasn’t like you needed extra workers that badly.”
“Hmm.”
“Honestly, it feels less like you hired us because you were busy, and more like you became busy because you hired us.”
“…Should I say sorry?”
Rotem spoke without much thought, but Juno shook her head with a small laugh.
“No. Everyone’s just too proud to say it out loud because you were a slave. But they’re probably grateful.
Before you came, the village became almost dead quiet after sunset.”
“Hmm.”
The imperial delivery contract was technically under Rotem’s name, but it was independent from Calpheon and the Cyan Trading Company.
It had brought unexpected prosperity to Florin.
“So, what are you going to do when the contract ends?”
“Do what?”
Juno frowned again at his blank response.
“When your slave contract ends, you’re free. You can go anywhere you want.”
“Oh, I see. I can leave the village.”
Finally showing a meaningful reaction, Rotem received a sly smile from Juno.
“So? Anywhere you want to go?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Rotem answered without hesitation.
“The capital city of Calpheon.”
