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< Chapter 7: The Alchemist of Florin (3) >
“Hello, sir.”
The dwarf, Tulkas, who was helping unload cargo from a merchant carriage, turned his head down toward the familiar voice calling him.
“Oh, it’s you, Rotem. Good to see you.”
“Welcome. You arrived earlier than expected?”
“Yeah, something came up on the way through Keplan, so I decided to come a bit early. Ah, but don’t worry. I’ve brought everything you asked for. Let’s see…”
Tulkas stepped with heavy strides to the opposite side of the loading area.
Soon, he brought out a sack and a box—each as large as his own body—and placed them in front of Rotem outside the carriage.
“Wow, thank you so much, sir.”
“The sack contains herbs and sap extracts. The box has the other things you specifically requested.”
“Thank you. Here’s the payment.”
Rotem handed over a pouch of silver coins to the dwarf, who was smiling with beads of pleasant sweat on his face. The moment Tulkas received it, he frowned deeply.
“Hey, this is way too much!”
“You went through a lot to get these. And there’s also transport costs.”
The dwarf jumped down from the carriage, trying to return the pouch, but Rotem’s large hand firmly stopped him.
“Hey, hey! Getting these things in Calpheon isn’t even that hard! The transport was basically just me using a corner of the carriage since I was coming here anyway. This is way too much!”
“Then please consider it my personal gratitude, sir.”
“No, no, this is too—”
“Ah, then how about this? You can check my axe for free once. Deal?”
“…Hngh…”
Rotem’s attitude was firm, and despite grumbling, Tulkas eventually gave up trying to return the money.
As he tucked the pouch into his coat, the dwarf looked again at the massive sack and box he had delivered, then at Rotem.
“By the way, even if I can understand the materials being hard to find here, why did you ask for potion boxes and elixir crates as well?
Even if you call them Calpheon specialty products, there are many items in here that are also made locally.”
“Oh, that?”
Rotem glanced down at the boxes as he spoke.
“It’s nothing special. I just wanted to check the quality of these potions and elixirs.”
“Quality? Are you planning to compare and resell them?”
Tulkas sighed with a worried expression.
“No matter how good the products made in this village are, there are many restrictions for individuals trying to sell them without going through a merchant guild.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not planning to distribute them personally.”
At Rotem’s calm response, Tulkas became even more curious.
“If you’re not selling them yourself, then what are you doing?”
He asked purely out of concern.
Having spent a long time in the merchant guild, he had seen many individuals who tried to rely solely on product quality to enter city distribution networks, only to be crushed when they attracted the attention of guilds.
However, Rotem’s answer was something Tulkas never expected.
“Sir, have you ever heard of ‘Imperial Delivery’?”
Imperial Delivery
Imperial Delivery was a policy first introduced during the Western Continent Alliance’s invasion of Valencia in the east, in order to solve chronic shortages of military supplies and logistics issues.
In simple terms, it meant that the central government directly purchased designated military supplies in fixed quantities at a set multiplier of market price.
In other words, it was a system that secured both front-line supply and luxury provisions through civilian cooperation.
This policy was designed to bring in those who could not properly enter the market due to the dominance of large merchant guilds.
It worked successfully, allowing Calpheon to independently secure essential military supplies—especially consumables like potions and elixirs—that had previously been monopolized by major guilds such as the Sian Merchant Guild.
Due to strict quality inspections and competitive bidding, the procurement price remained close to normal market levels, yet the quality advantage earned it high praise from field commanders and city councils alike.
Over time, items that succeeded in Imperial Delivery were recognized as “masterpieces,” and their creators were honored as “artisans” or “masters.”
Eventually, even cuisine became part of the delivery system due to this cultural shift.
“So, you’re aiming for Imperial Delivery…”
The setting had changed to Rotem’s workshop.
Although somewhat tidied, the place still felt chaotic and unfinished.
Tulkas, seated on a chair beside the bed and drinking the beer Rotem offered, said he actually liked this busy atmosphere on first impression.
“Yes.”
Rotem sat on a stool opposite him, holding a beer mug near his alchemy tools.
After a brief sigh, Tulkas glanced at him.
Ever since Rotem had mentioned “Imperial Delivery” at the carriage, his expression had not changed once, so Rotem could roughly anticipate what he was about to say.
“As you probably already know, Imperial Delivery—so-called ‘Imperial Submission’—has a very high barrier.
Prices are basically fixed, so cost-effectiveness doesn’t matter much. The first screening is purely about quality.
These days, even top workshops only contract with artisans who have already won Imperial bids.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But the biggest issue isn’t even entry barriers. It’s that if you fail the bid, everything you invested—time, money, materials—can disappear instantly.
If you overproduce elixirs and fail to win the contract, and you can’t even sell the stock afterward… you go bankrupt.
I’ve seen a few people go under like that.”
As Tulkas said, it was common for individual merchants or workshops to suffer irreversible financial damage after failing Imperial Delivery without backing from large guilds.
Those under guilds could at least offload unsold stock through their organization, but independent makers often ended up ruined after overconfidence in their own skill.
“I know. That’s why I wanted your objective evaluation first.”
Rotem’s calm answer made the dwarf look confused instead.
“Eh? Me?”
“Yes. You’re part of the Sian Merchant Guild, and you travel around for deliveries and trade all over the region, right?”
“Well… yes, but I’m a blacksmith, not an alchemy expert…”
Tulkas trailed off uncertainly, but Rotem waved his hand reassuringly.
“I’m not asking for a master-level analysis. Only someone like Calpheon’s official inspectors can do that.
What I want is your impression of the effects—the practical, felt experience.”
“Hmm…”
“And don’t worry about safety. I’ve already tested everything myself. There are no side effects.”
“Wait—”
That wasn’t the issue, Tulkas tried to say—but stopped.
Rotem was already bringing out potion boxes, including the ones Tulkas had delivered, placing them in front of him.
“…That one is the ‘Insight Elixir’…”
“Yes.”
“You sure? Without hunting monsters after drinking it, it’s hard to make a proper comparison.”
“That’s fine. Your experiential judgment is what matters.”
“Hmm…”
The Insight Elixir required rare truffle ingredients, so even for guild members, it wasn’t something to consume lightly.
Still, Tulkas had experience with it due to escort missions where it was supplied by the guild.
But this young giant apparently only knew him as a blacksmith.
So how did he know Tulkas had experience with combat support elixirs like this?
However, his thought process stopped as he looked at the two bottles in front of him.
“Alright then.”
Without hesitation, he drank the first potion—the one he had bought himself.
Since it was a commercial product, he downed it in one go.
“Mm.”
A familiar sensation. A familiar sharpening of senses.
His fingertips felt sharper. His perception of the workshop—airflow, dust on shelves, everything—became clearer.
It felt as if his entire awareness of the workshop had been sharpened.
“Uh, you’re going to drink the other one right away?”
Rotem asked with concern, but Tulkas laughed loudly.
“Hey, don’t worry. Potions of the same type don’t stack effects.
So drinking two potions with effect 10 doesn’t make it 20.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Right. So if you drink a 10-effect potion and a 15-effect potion together, only the 15 applies.
That means to compare them, you can take them together.”
And then he immediately drank Rotem’s potion.
Unlike commercial ones, it had no additives to ease consumption.
Tulkas grimaced violently as the raw bitterness hit his tongue.
Then came the evaluation.
Rotem stood beside him, arms crossed, pretending to be calm—but his stiff jaw betrayed tension.
“Mm, not bad.”
Tulkas examined his hands and surroundings before nodding in satisfaction.
Relief spread across Rotem’s face as he pulled up a chair and sat beside him.
“So… is it good?”
“Yeah, it’s good. No distortion, and sensitivity is balanced.
In terms of quality, it’s on par with—or slightly better than—what our guild handles.
And that’s without any additives. That’s impressive.”
“Good to hear. Then—”
Rotem’s face brightened.
But—
“However, I’m sorry, but Imperial Delivery will be difficult.”
