Chapter 113: The Grand Duchy?
How utterly, beautifully strange, I thought. So the tales were true. But to display such a lethal specimen as a common potted plant... it was a chillingly casual act. A wicked thought, sharp as a shard of glass, pricked at the edges of my mind. What if I were to reach out, right now, and yank that screaming thing from its soil? The thought was a thrill of pure, black horror. Every soul in this dusty little shop—the proprietor, his customers—would be dead before they hit the floor.
Of course, I wouldn’t be so reckless. If I pulled it, I would die alongside them. But another problem remained, a practical and grim one. The potion recipe required the Mandrake’s root, which meant I had no choice but to pull it from the soil anyway.
“If I must pull it out,” I asked, my voice a careful whisper, “how can I prevent it from screaming?”
“The Mandrake will scream for about three minutes after being pulled from the earth,” the shopkeeper explained, his tone matter-of-fact. “You must plug your ears the moment you pull it, then immediately drop the plant and run out of the screaming range. Hide until it stops.”
“But wouldn’t that still disturb the neighbors?” I asked, imagining the chaos.
“Yes, the Mandrake’s cry is very loud and sharp. An entire city block will hear it. And there is a risk even with plugged ears, so I would advise against it. Of course,” he added, “there are simpler, more direct methods.”
“What methods?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“A single cut from a knife, and the Mandrake will not be able to scream. Of course, once it is dead, it is useless. Another way is to stuff its mouth the moment you pull it out.” The shopkeeper listed the options with the enthusiasm of a man who enjoyed the morbid details of his trade.
“I understand. Thank you, shopkeeper. I’ll take this pot,” I said. The price he quoted for the Mandrake was higher than all the other ingredients combined. He asked for forty silver coins.
But this was the most critical ingredient for the mana elixir, and the first strange material I had seen for sale in a normal shop. I gritted my teeth and handed him a single, heavy gold coin.
The shopkeeper smiled, a slow spreading of wrinkles, and counted sixty silver coins into my palm. I could tell he had made a tidy profit. The few coppers I had saved haggling over the brandy now seemed utterly meaningless.
And there were still several ingredients I had no idea what they were. It was a headache. Just then, the shopkeeper said with a grin, “Is there anything else the customer needs?”
“No, nothing else,” I said sullenly. The remaining items didn’t seem like things I could find in a plant shop.
“Are you preparing to brew a potion, customer?” the shopkeeper asked, his smile widening. “If so, perhaps I have the materials you need. And even if I don’t, I might know where you can buy them.”
I stared at him, horrified. How did this man know what I was planning?
“It’s not so strange, is it? What kind of customer comes to buy a potted plant with a list in hand? And the Mandrake is a very common ingredient for making elixirs. Many customers order it from me,” the shopkeeper said with a laugh, adding, “Little miss, if you need more Mandrakes in the future, you can come back to my shop.”
I was still too green. To have taken out my list in front of him… But this was an unexpected boon. That single gold coin had made the shopkeeper see me as a potential customer, one he wanted to turn into a regular.
This was an advantage of spending money that Jared didn't yet understand. If others saw your potential to spend, they might be willing to offer a little help, saving you some trouble.
Of course, there were risks. I weighed them for a moment. Considering he already knew I was brewing a potion, there seemed to be little left to hide. I recited the entire list for him. “Alright, I need the blood of a gazelle deer, the honey of a honeypot ant, the resin of a sweet honey tree, the roe of a golden crab, and powdered Wagreah Ore. Do you have them?”
“My lady has quite a list,” he said. “I only have the sweet honey tree resin and the honeypot ant honey. But I know a place where you might find the other three.” As he spoke, he gave me a meaningful look.
“Alright, I’ll take the other two. Thank you, boss,” I said. I had leads on the potion ingredients; I couldn't give up now. It seemed the price for the shopkeeper’s information was that I had to buy more of his goods.
“Excellent, my lady. Please, come this way. The more valuable materials are in the back.” His goal achieved, the shopkeeper’s face broke into a wide grin. He had a few assistants help him with the front of the shop while he led me into the back room.
Jared, worried about me being alone, followed us in. The shopkeeper said nothing, merely leading us to a dark backyard. The area was surrounded by cloth on all four sides, but it was actually open to the sky. It seemed dark because it was filled with plants, their dense leaves blocking out the sun.
The flora in this hidden garden was a collection of living miracles and waking nightmares. Slender stalks of bamboo, jointed like tiny human limbs, performed a slow, silent dance. Sunflowers, their heads heavy with glowing seeds, pulsed with a soft, internal luminescence, casting a sickly light on a far more ferocious specimen—a great, fleshy plant with a maw like a gaping wound, its serrated leaves closing slowly, inexorably, around the twitching body of a rat. Besides these, there were also some strange objects, like a cylindrical stone carving covered in patterns that seemed to writhe at the edge of my vision.
“Most of these are fine things brought over from Latin America. Please, come this way. This is the sweet honey tree you wanted,” the shopkeeper said, leading me to a tree.
The entire tree gave off a refreshing, almost intoxicating fragrance. The bark was a faint golden color, and there were many gnarled knots on the trunk, each scarred with several knife marks.
“The resin of the sweet honey tree is stored in these knots, which is also the secret of its fragrance. If you want the tree itself, it is very expensive. But if you only want the resin, it’s five silver coins for a small bottle,” the shopkeeper said, producing a small bottle the size of a finger.
Of course, I nodded. The shopkeeper selected a relatively intact knot that had already accumulated a good amount of resin, placed the small bottle underneath, and took out a jade knife. Quite particular.
“If you don’t cut it for a while, the knot will accumulate resin again. Unfortunately, the yield is still too low. Also, you cannot touch the resin with metal, or it will lose its medicinal properties. Please remember not to touch it with metal before use.”
As the shopkeeper spoke, he sliced open the knot. A rich fragrance immediately filled the air, and I even felt a little drunk. A clear, viscous, slightly yellowish liquid flowed into the small glass bottle.
The shopkeeper cut three knots in a row to fill the small bottle, then stoppered it with a wooden cork and handed it to me. Next, he led me to a transparent glass box. It was filled with soil, but I could see countless tunnels.
I had seen this in my past life: an ant observation box. It was very narrow in width, but normal in length and height. Through the glass, you could see the ants inside.
And at this moment, I could see the dense swarm of ants in the box. Unlike ordinary ants, there were many golden, round balls hanging from the top of the nest. Upon closer inspection, they were actually ants, their abdomens swollen to several times the size of their bodies, glowing like tiny, living lanterns.
“These are high-quality honeypot ants brought back from the Mexican Grand Duchy. Only by feeding them the nectar of spiritual plants can you cultivate the most effective medicinal materials. The ones I’ve raised in this box are the best of the best. Even eating them directly can replenish a little mana,” the shopkeeper said.
My mind snagged on the last two words, a discordant note in the man's smooth sales pitch. The Mexican… Grand Duchy? The name was another geographical and historical absurdity. Mexico was a land across the vast, grey ocean, a place of deserts and jungles I knew from the atlas. But a Grand Duchy? The title belonged to the petty, squabbling states of old Europe, not the sprawling territories of the New World.
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