Paragon of Destruction 118 The Formula

"He's my recruit," she answered. Then, some color appearing on her cheeks, she added, "And no, I haven't yet told him everything."

"Told me what?" Arran asked. He could tell that the issue was an important one, but he still had no idea what Snowcloud and Lord Sevaril were talking about. Nor, for that matter, how they even knew each other.

"You should tell him," Lord Sevaril said, his expression serious. "Ill-mannered though he may be, if he is to accompany you, he should know the dangers."

"What dangers?" Arran obviously knew that even traveling in the region was dangerous, but it was clear that what Lord Sevaril was talking about was something far beyond the normal risks travelers faced. And anything that someone with the power to hold a city in the borderlands feared was something that Arran knew would be cause for concern.

Snowcloud hesitated for several moments, a look of worry in her eyes. "All right," she said eventually. "I'll explain."

Arran looked at her in anticipation, already wondering just what kind of mess he'd gotten himself involved in.

"My mother was an alchemist," she began. "When Grandfather fell ill, she suspected he had been poisoned, and devised a formula she believed would cure him. But it required a number of extremely rare ingredients, and some of them could only be found across the border. She went to retrieve them, and when she failed to come back even after months had passed, my father set off in search of her. Neither of them ever returned."

Briefly, she went quiet, and Arran saw a pained look in her eyes. When she spoke again, there was a slight tremble to her voice.

"I was a child at the time," she continued, "but I started searching through my mother's notes, trying to find anything that could help me discover where she was. I didn't find her location, but from her notes, I eventually pieced together the formula for the cure she was working on. That's why I traveled across the border — to finish the work my mother started."

"Is that why you're so obsessed with herbalism?" Arran asked, finally beginning to understand. "You want to save your grandfather?"

Snowcloud nodded. "But it's not just about Grandfather. If my parents are still alive, he's the only one who can find them."

"It was almost a decade ago," Lord Sevaril said in a soft voice. "I think you should consider the—"

"I'm not a child anymore," Snowcloud interrupted him. "I've long known that they're probably dead. But if there's even the slightest chance, I can't let it slip away. I'm not strong enough myself, but once Grandfather is cured…"

Her voice trailed off before she finished the sentence, but Arran didn't need to hear the rest of her words to know what she was thinking. The Patriarch should be a powerful mage, and if he was cured, he could search where she couldn't. Still, after nearly a decade, Arran could not help but think that any chance of finding her parents alive was long gone.

"If you have a formula that might save the Patriarch — your grandfather — why haven't you given it to one of the Sixth Valley's Elders?" he asked. "Surely their chances of finding the ingredients you need would be better than your own."

"Haven't you been listening?" There was a sharpness to Snowcloud's voice as she answered. "My mother believed Grandfather was poisoned, and when she left in search of a cure, both she and my father disappeared. Whoever is behind it must hold a position of power within the Society — an Elder, or even an entire faction."

"And they know you're searching for the cure?"

"Of course not," Snowcloud replied. "If they even knew I had the formula, I would probably be dead already."

"So how do you fit into all of this?" Arran asked, looking at Lord Sevaril. The man had barely said a word since Snowcloud started speaking, instead silently observing her and Arran with a thoughtful expression.

"The Patriarch and I are friends, after a fashion," Lord Sevaril replied. "When his daughter came to me for help, I offered what I could. Now that his granddaughter is here, I shall do the same."

"But if the Patriarch is your friend, can't you find the ingredients?" Arran asked. "You're powerful, aren't you? Your chances of success must be greater than ours."

Lord Sevaril let out a mirthless chuckle. "If power was the only obstacle, I could solve the problem easily. But finding rare alchemical ingredients and natural treasures… that requires luck and time more than it does power. And while I like to believe that my luck is good, I cannot leave the city for months, much less years. If I did, there would be only ruins when I returned."

"But can't you send some of your men to search for the ingredients?" Arran insisted.

"I can, and I have," Lord Sevaril replied. "All but a few of the ingredients required are already in my possession."

At this, Snowcloud's eyes went wide with joy. "You've already gathered most of the ingredients?!"

"Of course," Lord Sevaril said, a small smile on his lips. "When your mother was here, she gave me a list of the ingredients she required. After she disappeared, I took it upon myself to gather as many of them as I could, hoping that you would appear here one day."

"So you knew I would come?" Snowcloud asked.

"I knew you have your mother's blood," the man replied. "I hoped you would have her strength of will as well. And it seems my hopes were not unfounded."

"And there are just a few ingredients left now?"

Snowcloud looked at Lord Sevaril eagerly as she asked the question, and Arran realized that this was the first time he had seen her truly happy, despite them already having traveled together for months. Yet now, he could better understand her previous joyless demeanor — she had embarked on a journey that had already likely taken the lives of both her parents.

That last part caused him more than a little worry, of course. Anyone capable of poisoning the Patriarch and killing or capturing Snowcloud's parents would certainly have terrifying power, and the ruthlessness to match it.

"I have found all but a handful of the ingredients," Lord Sevaril confirmed. "But finding the final ones will require great luck, and involve even greater danger." He turned to Arran. "Now that you know the truth, are you still willing to continue this journey?"

For several moments, Arran considered the situation. Even if there was danger ahead, he saw opportunity as well.

If he accompanied Snowcloud and they succeeded in finding the ingredients needed to cure the Patriarch, there would undoubtedly be many rewards. In one fell swoop, Arran could carve out a position within the Shadowflame Society that should guarantee him all the resources he needed for his training.

On the other hand, if he turned back now, he would be stranded in the borderlands, without even a novice to accompany him. If he could even make it back to the Sixth Valley by himself, he had no idea if he would be allowed to enter without the novice who recruited him.

"I'll stay with Snowcloud," he answered, having made up his mind.

"Excellent," Lord Sevaril said, smiling broadly. "Then I won't have to kill you. Now, shall we take a look at the ingredients I have gathered so far?"

Chapter end