Chapter Sixty-Two: Alchemical Seal
After Alman reviewed the documents in the file bag, the First Prince struck a match and turned all the documents into ashes before pushing them into the trash bin.
The two did not engage in much conversation; for this special task, Alman merely took a glance, saluted, and left the First Prince’s office.
No matter how tricky the matter, Alman found it impossible to refuse, or rather, he had no reason to refuse. This was also part of the agreement he had made with the First Prince: if he was to receive protection and assistance, he had to show the corresponding awareness.
“Heading back to the manor?”
Carly was waiting at the door. They had actually arrived at the palace together, but Carly did not like to speak face-to-face with superiors, so he stayed outside, waiting for Alman to call him if there was a problem.
“Yeah, there’s nothing else to do today. Might as well head back.”
“You look quite troubled.”
“That’s just your imagination.” Alman forced a light laugh.
“If you say so. If you need any help, just say the word.” Carly knew that Alman had a stubborn temperament, so he didn’t intend to argue further.
“Thanks.”
After saying this, Carly and Alman each boarded their respective carriages, one heading left and the other right, following the roads leading to their homes.
The carriage still swayed back and forth, making Alman feel nauseous.
Although it was not the first time he had done some side duties for the First Prince, he had been managing some special tasks for the First Prince since he started following him, becoming accustomed to it. However, under the current circumstances where his body was deteriorating day by day, Alman found it increasingly difficult.
“Haah—”
Alman sighed and leaned back on the carriage’s sofa.
He really hoped those medical officers studying his body could come up with some miracle drugs to deal with the toxins still spreading within him.
Swish, swish.
As he thought about this, Alman turned over in the carriage, which was somewhat uncomfortable for him, and dug a medicine bottle out of his pocket.
The knights often said that their commander might pull out a bottle of medicine anytime and toss a pill into his mouth like eating peanuts, which was true. Alman always carried some medicine with him; each colored bottle had a different effect.
There were the simplest stomach medicines, functional ones for pain relief and healing, and those for stopping bleeding when necessary. There were even ones for coughs. It could be said that he was covered in medicine, though not directly in his pockets. Instead, he utilized a special alchemical technique to create a sort of “space.”
The principle of this was quite simple; it involved using special seals along with corresponding mediums. By attaching the alchemical seal to his body, he could achieve the effect of having another space, forming a portable small storage. Alman’s alchemical seal was affixed to his palm, making it very convenient to take things out. When not in use, the seal would also hide its pattern, so it wouldn’t be discovered, which was very convenient.
However, while this thing was convenient, it had significant drawbacks. The seal required the user to have an affinity for alchemy. If the body rejected alchemy, there would be no way to ink such a seal. Forcing its use could endanger life, and it was costly with scarce materials; only alchemists in the Royal Courtyard could use this form of alchemy. Generally, those who had seals were closely connected to the royal family.
Moreover, using the seal required enduring the burning pain that alchemy brought every time one stored or took anything out. Thus, only warriors with special abilities typically possessed it.
Alman was considered lucky; he had a high affinity for alchemy, which allowed him to have this seal. However, since he had it inked a while ago, the mechanism was not very complete. Moreover, given his current poor health, the burden of using the seal was too great, so the number of items he could store was progressively decreasing. Compared to others whose “large storage” was the size of a room, Alman now had at most a box the size of a coffin lid.
He even occasionally considered actually storing a coffin inside it—so that if he were to fall one day, he wouldn’t be left exposed in the wilderness.
Swish, swish.
Alman looked at the simplest medicine bottle in his hand, shaking it up and down, listening to the sound of three pills colliding inside.
This looked like the simplest medicine, a transparent bottle with a white cap, containing white pills that resembled camphor pills but were considerably smaller.
Though it appeared simple, it was actually the most lethal. It was not poison, but it was similar to one.
The pills were also a product of alchemy, not purely medicine.
The effect was straightforward and brutal—this thing was tailored for Alman. It possessed a high level of toxicity but also had the ability to restore the user’s bodily functions to their peak for a certain period. The degree to which it enhanced depended on the user’s physical limits. For someone like Alman, whose bodily functions were damaged yet not afraid of extreme poison, this was just the right fit.
But this didn’t mean Alman could use it carelessly, as such potent toxins would accumulate in the body. Although they could gradually be eliminated over time, in the short term, even with maximum poison resistance, Alman would still be troubled by the alchemical poison that wasn’t biological. If misused or if he didn’t rest properly when the drug’s toxicity reverted after its effects expired, it would be purely a matter of life and death.
Both the medical officers and the First Prince were aware of this drug’s existence and had advised Alman never to use it unless absolutely necessary. However—he still encountered too many critical moments.
Click.
When the carriage came to a stop, Alman sat up, stowed the medicine away, and stepped down with the welcome of the guards at the manor gate.
“Hm?”
Just as he got off, he happened to cross paths with Evelia, who had just returned. He looked up and made eye contact with her.
“Mr. Alman.”
Holding a dance book, Evelia bowed respectfully to Alman.
“Went to the bookstore?”
“Yes, I bought some necessary items.”
The dance book was wrapped in a layer of brown paper, so Alman didn’t know what was inside. However, since none of the eyes around had reported any unusual behavior from Evelia today, he didn’t pay much attention to the book. After stepping aside slightly, he walked alongside Evelia into the manor.
The two did not speak along the way; it was a bit uncomfortably quiet. Evelia walked beside Alman, carefully holding the book as if she didn’t want to say anything, while Alman felt a persistent itch in his heart about how to bring up the topic of the celebration with her.
Although Carly had divided the celebration into a noble hall and a knight hall, Alman wasn’t sure if Evelia would enjoy a place that was too lively, considering her usual cold demeanor didn’t seem fitting for mingling in a festive dance.
Yet, as Carly had said, a dance was a close-contact opportunity, and inviting her could help their relationship—
—Huh?
Strange…
At this thought, Alman suddenly came to a realization.
Why was he trying to get closer to Evelia?
He had merely wanted to stabilize the situation with Evelia as a spy at first; how did it suddenly turn into wanting to draw closer to her?
When had this changed…?
“Mr. Alman.”
Just as Alman fell into self-doubt, Evelia beside him suddenly spoke, looking up at the taller Alman.
“Ah, what’s the matter?”
Alman looked down, meeting her gaze.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
