The sound of the wooden legs scraping against the rough stone floor was an unpleasant assault upon the ears, accompanied by the clinging of the glass that shook with every firm push.
Erik had pushed the last of the wineracks against the wall, leaving hardly an inch in between them all. The cellar had otherwise been swept of dust and cobwebs, the foundation replaced and better secured. The room was now as clean as it was gonna get, but what was needed was the space in a room that could be hidden from outsiders.
He made his way to the south wall, opposite of the stairway. He placed his left hand against the bare stone and activated one of the three enchanted rings he wore. It specifically maintained his grasp on shfi'nyl, which quickly spread onto the wall like an ichor.
As he withdrew his hand, a pitch-black doorway materialized in its place. Emerging from the darkness, a figure stepped forward, carrying a crate in their arms. It was one of his loyal men, one of his men who had journeyed with him.
With precision and efficiency, the rest of his men followed suit, each entering through the portal and bringing in more crates to be stored in the cellar. They remained shrouded in their disguises, their thin black cloaks enveloping their bodies, hoods concealing their heads, and masks shielding their faces from prying eyes.
"Return to the ship and await my return." He commanded.
"Yes, my lord." Came the unified response, accompanied by respectful bows from each member of his loyal entourage before they passed back through the portal. As they disappeared into the darkness, Erik turned his back and made his way to the stairs, the shfy'nyl that made up the doorway, like a casted shadow, followed him and disappeared under his steps.
The previously old and run-down home was now unrecognizable after only a week's time. Every inch of every corner and crevice was cleaned of dust and cobwebs, with every bit of wear having been fixed, from the floorboards and stairs to the shattered windows being replaced with new panes of glass.
He readied himself in front of a mirror in the foyer, tugging at his sleeves, positioning his collar, and fixing his bow before leaving out the door.
As he made his way down the street, every man he passed lowered their head and made way for him, some greeting him with an entanglement of respect and fear.
During his time there, he took advantage of the poor economy to purchase as many buildings as he could for as little as he could. He had a wealthy amount of coin, smelted from ores from the mine back in Innah'vadah, but even that was not unlimited. The property he bought, he rented out to the locals who had fallen on hard times, becoming a saving grace to them and their families, of course, not out of the kindness of his own heart.
He made contracts with the locals, having already signed with dozens of men and women already, with another desperate man awaiting to make a deal with him.
Erik, Chester, and a man looking to sign one of the contracts sat together at a table in a small restaurant, with the contract laid flat on the table before the man.
"And... And all I have to do is provide you with a portion of the potions every month? No coin?"
"Yes." Chester answered him. "Mister Codux would rather have your skills as an alchemist, rather than any coin."
"Well... How am I meant to get the ingredients I need?"
"That will be arranged for you."
"I... I see..." He swallowed his own saliva, fiddling his thumb and fingers as he stared at the piece of paper with beady eyes. "This sounds too good to be true."
"It is very simple, Anderson. Mister Codux is willing to invest in your skills as an alchemist. As long are hard working and consistent, you will be allowed to keep your home, and will be provided a monthly pay."
"If your worries are about safety..." Erik interjected. "You do not have to worry about that. Mister Nickelson and his men will no longer extort coin from you or anyone else, within my territory. They will maintain their protection against any other gangs, and as long as I pay them, they will cause no trouble in Calvin. This is a legitimate business transaction."
Moments of silence passed before he then picked up the pen and placed it, ink down, onto the paper. His hand stayed still for yet another moment before he began to move in signing.
Almost immediately after he lifted up the pen from the page, Chester yanked it from the table with a wide smile on his face. "You have done a good thing here, Anderson. Your family will be proud." He put away the contract, replacing it discreetly with a small box of neatly placed silver coins, a hefty amount that would be the sum of multiple years' work for the common man.
As the three of them left the establishment, Erik and Chester went about their way from the man, who was carrying his newfound wealth tightly against his chest. Chester placed atop his head a hat, and Erik began to relay his orders to Chester. "I had the cargo moved to the cellar. I want everything to be sold and popularized within three years' time, and the weapons, you know what to do with them."
"Yes, my lord. I must say though... I am rather nervous."
"Nerves are just your instinct of fearfulness warning you to be cautious. Think not of the lowly commoner that you once were, Chester. Now, you are the steward to a god, and a king, and there are many who are relying on you. Failure is beneath your stature."
"Of course, my lord."
"Be cautious in expanding the company and with shipping goods back to Innah'vadah. Take the rest of the gold and store it in multiple banks just in case. Take no risks, and be sure to hire some protection."
"Yes, my lord. I promise to excel at my tasks, for the better of our people, and our prosperous future." So said Chester with a zealous grin.
That evening, Chester saw Erik off at the harbor. Their ship made its way back through the dead coast and out to sea with haste, as Erik knew he needed to return as soon as possible, knowing the oncoming threat that was racing towards them like a storm over the horizon.
At that very moment, within the vast expanse of the sea between Innah'vadah and the High Elven Empire, a formidable fleet of massive warships sailed across the treacherous waters in unison. They were elven warships that carried hundreds of soldiers, as well as the weight of imminent conflict. Their purpose was clear, and Erik, though he had not confirmed their coming for a fact, expected it.
He knew not how many were coming, but he was prepared nonetheless. His steps were all preplanned, dozens ahead, all with dozens of branching paths.
He had spent his time preparing, spent his time building up his resources and power, and now, he would no longer tread passively.
His people did as instructed, his smiths manning forges where they forged weapons of metal.
Within the cellar that Chester returned to that afternoon, he cracked open the crates full of weapons. Inside were long barrels of iron with stocks of wood; rifles. The next age of weaponry was donning. Magic was a dying practice that took too much effort. The sword was the choice of weapon for many, but soon, it would be left for better.