Chapter 14 (part 1/2) - Market Analysis

  Drestan inserts the key into the lock and turns it, producing a sordid click before the door comes undone.

  “Here’s your room. It’s the only benefit you get. You still share the bathroom and dining hall with the other husks.”

  “I wouldn’t expect much more. I appreciate it.” Vincent replies cordially. “I hope to start pulling my own weight from now on.”

  “Hmp. Whatever you say.” Drestan grumbles, defeated, as he hands over the key to Vincent’s new room.

  There was no intentional sarcasm in Vincent’s words, even if they sounded that way. They were orders from above, and it wasn’t up to him whether those benefits were granted or not. Vincent could be petty and vindictive, but he knew when not to be.

  He’s tried to screw me over at every opportunity, but I can’t keep stacking enemies. I know people are watching me.

  His pitiful attempt to calm the waters didn’t achieve much, but it was progress. There wasn’t much he could do without sounding condescending, so he decided to drop the matter for now and explore his new room.

  The room was small but cozy. He knew Drestan couldn’t deny him a room, since it was a direct order, but he was sure he’d been given the worst one available. Even so, it wasn’t bad. Due to the Tower’s layout and depth, having access to a real window was impossible, but to his surprise he found something comparable. The only opening in the room, ignoring the door, was a window facing an internal cloister covered in reflective glass. The panes were arranged so that, no matter the viewing angle, they displayed an image of the outside and let in enough light to illuminate the room.

  A bed just for me, a desk, a closet, a light crystal for studying at night, and even a pseudo-window… not bad.

  Maybe because his expectations had been so low, but that small two-by-three-meter room was all he needed. No longer in immediate danger of being lobotomized and cut off from the constant stress of his other world, he felt genuinely happy. He was still angry and thirsty for revenge, and he still missed his parents, but part of the memories he had lost were tied to the daily grind of running a company and the mental burden that came with it.

  This was a new beginning in a new world. New technologies to exploit, new businesses to build. The feeling was exactly like starting a new character in a videogame. A universe of possibilities. He loved those first hours when levels skyrocketed and dopamine receptors were rewarded every second with each stupid achievement unlocked. As he looked around the modest room, all he could think about was how much it could grow.

  And to grow, I need money…

  Vincent grabbed a charcoal pen and a small notebook from the new desk and stepped out of his room. He needed to move for ideas to flow.

  He still had no certainty about how much he would earn helping in the workshop or working as an assistant, but it was clear it wouldn’t be enough. Wage labor was not his thing. He knew that to truly make money, you needed a product.

  The calculation circle was a great product, but not one he could profit from while trapped inside the Tower. The scholars’ demand would be absorbed by the Tower itself, so he wouldn’t be able to sell it there. He needed something different. Something he could produce and sell himself within the Tower, but not so useful that it would be considered vital.

  Let’s see… where are those little vermin hiding?

  Luckily, he already had a vague idea of his next product, and his room wasn’t far from the potential market. Leaving the corridor of private rooms led him to the husk barracks, the baths, and the common hall, where some were studying.

  Every husk dreamed of leaving that place, rising in status, and earning enough to be free. But the Tower’s own mechanisms kept them enslaved in a constant state of debt. The Tower didn’t bother educating those without talent, yet it never closed the door to advancement either, supplying husks with incense, tonics, pills, and other concoctions to develop their abilities. Husks spent most of their earnings improving their magic instead of paying off their debt, which kept them controlled and indebted for years.

  There were ways to bypass the system, or at least make the Tower’s meager wages stretch further. Official channels sold materials to husks at inflated prices, so some turned to a parallel market instead. The practice wasn’t penalized, but those who bought herbs from higher-ranked resurrect at lower prices didn’t want others finding out about their advantage. Vincent knew exactly the kind of husk who would resort to those methods…

  Ah, there they are.

  “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”

  Vincent greets the trio of husks, who kept themselves apart from the rest, training their meridians in a wary, secluded way.

  “W-what do you want?”

  Charly asks, trying to save face. Vincent had earned a certain amount of respect among the other husks, and surviving such severe meridian trauma had turned him into a “tough guy” in their eyes.

  “Nothing. I was wondering if you were going to train again. I’d like to join.”

  “W-what? What are you talking about?”He says, glancing sideways to see if anyone else had overheard.

  “We already donated our share to the dormitory for collective training. It’ll be tomorrow.”

  “Ohh… I see. So you don’t have any left.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  It was common among husks and resurrected alike to buy large quantities of incense together to set up a collective training circle. Since everyone worked roughly the same jobs, their income was similar, so if someone had enough to train on their own, they were clearly doing something different.

  “That’s a shame… because I had a silver pinch to contribute, but the incense they sell at the dispensary seems really overpriced to me.”

  I knew it was strange that they were training in secret. They must be smart enough to realize that if they want to escape the status quo, they need to do more than average.

  “Charly… we could let him,” the girl whispers.

  “Oh, shut up… fine. I still feel like he’s blackmailing us, though.”

  Charly takes the silver pinch from Vincent’s hand and gestures for him to follow them toward the barracks, not too far away. Tammy breaks off to fetch the herbs from the women’s dormitories and returns shortly after.

  “Here they are.”

  “Good, but it looks like we can’t do it here. There are people in the dormitory. We need to find another place.”

  “We can go to my room,” Vincent offers. “No one will bother us there.”

  The trio’s faces light up. Up until now, they hadn’t had a single resurrect “friend,” so a private room for training had been completely out of reach. They agree, doing their best to contain their excitement as they head toward the cozy room.

  Ben heads straight for the window, while Tammy sits down on the bed. Charly tries to hide his amazement by crossing his arms.

  “Alright, alright, Ben, put the burner on the floor,” Charly orders.

  Ben obeys, pulling the small ceramic burner from his pack, and Tammy begins partitioning the herbs on the desk, separating stems from leaves. Charly stops her, indicating that this time it is fine to use the stems as well.

  So the important part when burning them is the leaves… Vincent notes.

  The burner, powered by three gems set inside it, begins to generate heat. The crushed leaves and stems are placed on top, then the container is covered and left to rest for a moment, until smoke begins to form.

  Charly gestures for Vincent to form a circle with the others. He takes Ben’s and Tammy’s hands in preparation for the ritual. Then he places the book with the meridian map in front of him and begins.

  “Let’s review before it reaches temperature. This time we won’t be using incense, just herbs to reinforce the existing meridians.”

  Vincent and the others nod.

  "From soul to diaphragm I draw, between the heart and breath I flow;

  down I press into the stomach, where the kidney hums below..."

  And they begin reciting the mantra. Vincent still does not feel any intent from the others to circulate energy, which strikes him as strange, especially since the sharp, semi hallucinogenic scent of the herbs is already filling his nose.

  Don’t they know you don’t need to burn them to release their active compounds?

  Slowly, the smoke begins to flow out of the burner.

  Maybe they use the smoke as a guide… or maybe they simply have no way to control the temperature.

  An idea sparks in his mind, even better than extorting them into revealing their dealer, as he had originally planned. But it is interrupted by the energy coming from Ben’s hand. Vincent takes it and circulates it rapidly through his body, ignoring the pace of the others, who follow the rhythm set by the mantra. By the time it reaches Tammy, it is more energy than she can receive, causing her to squeeze his hand in discomfort. Vincent then focuses on circulating it through his own body for a moment before releasing it again. Even though the amount of energy he can move is limited, he is clearly faster than the rest when it comes to circulation.

  Even so, the exercise is productive. He is training his meridians, but his mind cannot help drifting back to the burner in front of him and the new idea that is beginning to take shape.

  If he wanted to learn how to use magic, he would surely have to do so under elevated levels of stress, in real situations. Enduring distractions was also part of the training, trying not to lose rhythm or flow while thinking about other things.

  Even in this enclosed space, a lot of these herbs are being wasted. They burn too fast and unevenly.

  The smoke came out dirty and inconsistent, burning in irregular intervals.

  It might be due to low quality crystals. The ones they use for lighting also flicker… and I doubt they even know the correct burning temperature. That is something I could definitely regulate with a circle…

  “Hey… Vin.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Vincent had drifted off, and Charly pointed it out. In any case, there was not much left to burn. Only black smoke was coming out of the burner now.

  “Well… that’s all we can give you for that silver pinch. When you have more money, we can keep going.”

  Charly says this as he stands up, satisfied after having made a good deal. Vincent did not mind much. He was far more interested in the burner.

  “How do you turn this off?”

  “Just give it an extinction pulse and that’s it,” Ben replies.

  “And to turn it on? Can you regulate the temperature?”

  Vincent keeps asking while ignoring Charly, something he clearly does not appreciate.

  “If you’re interested in the burner, I should tell you it’s not for sale. That one’s a good one, and it was expensive.”

  “Good ones? So this is the best you can do here.”

  “Obviously there are better ones. Some regulate temperature and direct the smoke straight to your nose, but they use very expensive crystals and consume a lot of energy. With that level of energy you can do almost anything.”

  “And what about a pipe? Why don’t you use something more compact?”

  The trio looks at him, somewhat baffled, not understanding where all the questions are coming from.

  “Pipes burn the incense way too fast, just like cigarettes. Isn’t that obvious? I thought you were smarter than that…”

  Of course I know… that wasn’t the question. Vincent thinks, frustrated at being taken for an idiot. Still, he had already gotten the information he wanted.

  “If you want a pipe, I can get you one, but it’s always better to burn incense with us.”

  Of course it benefits them more, but it can’t be a complete lie.

  “Yeah, get me a pipe. Can you do it now? Also some incense and herbs.”

  Charly looks a bit taken aback, but agrees.

  “It’ll cost you…”

  “Just bring the stuff.”

  The trio leaves, while Vincent stays behind, sketching in his room. Charly returns shortly after with a magical pipe and a bundle of herbs with far too many stems mixed in. Even knowing he was being ripped off, Vincent did not care. He handed over a couple of silver coins and shooed them out of the room.

  “So this is what they use to cultivate themselves… feels like I just bought weed.”

  The pipe was not very complex. It looked like an old tobacco pipe, except for a small marble acting as a burner in the bowl. When he tried it, he immediately understood why they were not used more often.

  It requires constant regulation of the ignition, and inhaling makes the herb burn far too quickly. It’s a very inefficient method.

  The dose was also far too intense. Much of the smoke never got absorbed by the body, which was why they preferred steady burners instead.

  It has a lot of flaws… things I can work on.

  Vincent’s eyes lit up. The challenge was calling to him. He grabbed a piece of chalk and started scratching at the wall, breaking down the problems he needed to solve.

  “Temperature regulation to avoid burning the herb… airflow… energy handling to avoid intermittent combustion…”

  Then he began prototyping diagrams for the new product.

  “It has to be something individual, something they won’t want to share, to capitalize on the market of those who train in secret. I’m sure many of them do… it also can’t consume much energy to activate, since they’re all husks… and it has to be small enough to hide easily. What I need to make is…”

  The scribbles on the wall began to take shape. The design shrank, organized itself, became more efficient. Something he could build in the magical circle workshop with few tools. Something replicable.

  “An incense vaporizer.”