"So, this… white phosphorus has how much longer until it is ready?" Dimitre asked, shifting in his seat across from Tim in the break room. Nearby, covered as to prevent the stench from spreading too much, the barrels of urine sat with undisturbed as the half-elf in question quietly prepared the last of the cinnamon and charcoal mixture.
"Well, judging from the smell and assuming my count is accurate, it should be today or tomorrow." Tim muttered briefly, sparing a glance at his new companion before returning to his task. While the mixing process was far from the most interesting thing that had happened in the past few days (that award would go to the nerve-wracking experience of sneaking Dimitre into the archives under the cover of dark), it still demanded a surprisingly high concentration. It certainly would not do to mix too much of the stuff into the urine.
A slight tinging sound of fingernail on glass broke his concentration again, and Tim looked up with an annoyed hiss. "Please, for the love of everything that's good, don't mess with the glassware!" On the other end of Tim's accusing stare, Dimitre withdrew his hands from the stacks of glass beakers and tubes with a slightly guilty look. "Really! Are all you people like this? If you're that bored, walk around the archives or something. You might learn a thing or two." Tim shook his head in exasperation. I fucking swear, if that lizard breaks the glassware, I'll let the rat king himself have the first bite.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dimitre shifted uncomfortably in his seat again, not responding to Tim's suggestions to relieve his boredom. He couldn't go out to the city until the guard patrols let up, and the archives… bothered him. It was truly strange that they did, but whenever the demon wandered around the looming bookshelves, he couldn't shake the feeling of someone, or something watching him. Watching him with ill intent. Yet, watching the strange alchemist work was possibly the most boring activity Dimitre had been subjected to that he could remember.
The first day hadn't been half bad, as it was filled with discussion over Tim's strategy to kill one of the heroes, and he was able to get word out to Lord Mavier through the usage of those disturbingly smart rats, but then those foul-smelling barrels Tim had claimed were full of literal piss had come to the forefront of his new ally's mind. Just a day later, and little had changed, save for his poor, broken scimitar being carried off to a blacksmith by the dwarf. That was really the only immediate boon from this situation. While it felt strange to not have the weapon attached to his hip, dwarves were well-known even among the demons as the ones to trust with crafting, even if that specific dwarf was only a courier bringing to a real blacksmith.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Deep within a cave near Drassington, the demon hero Mavier crossed his arms in contemplation as his brave warriors delivered the latest, and most interesting report from Dimitre. "Truly, it speaks of his skill that Dimitre was able to complete his mission. Santet, make sure to bring word of his deeds to our brothers back at home. It would do them good to hear of his exploits."
Kneeling behind him, Santet nodded in affirmation as she folded up the tiny, almost miniscule report that had arrived tied to the neck of a rat, of all things. Just thinking about what she, and all of her brothers-in-arms who were within hearing range of her report, had heard sent shivers down her spine. Ah, what honor Dimitre had won their race with that report. It was enough to almost make her brain tremble with a mixture of envy, respect, and a faint hope to do the same herself. And, if Dimitre's report was accurate, that chance would come soon. After all, in the planned rematch at that disgusting stone prison, who knew what could happen, especially if the half-elf's weapons worked as he promised.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
At the same time, twelve sets of steel boots and two sets of horseshoes clattered through the streets as Elena, covered fully in a softly glowing set of plate armor, patrolled through the streets of Drassington with her loyal men at her side in search of something, anything that could lead to the demon who had disappeared into thin air just a few days ago.
Just like they had every day, they passed the shattered streets near Kevin's mansion, still covered with nervous workmen swarming around the block repairing what they could. Elena gave a slight grimace at the sight, even though she had seen it many times by now. The men appeared to be working diligently, but even the strongest among them could only do so much in the face of cobblestones turned to glass by lightning. They were hammered so deeply into the ground that it would take a giant's strength to free them. A strength that the men would have to do without, as both she and Kevin were forced to search for the demon and the assassin.
Honestly, if the situation were just a little bit less dangerous to the civilians, Elena would have thanked the two assailants for getting her fellow hero off his ass and allowing her boredom to be broken, but with each week that passed the situation only deteriorated. The worst part was that they hadn't even found hide nor hair of that rat abomination since it had escaped the Bastille with the assassin.