Abercrombie clutched a dagger in his arms.
It was a fine dagger, with a weight that posed a certain burden even for the frail hands of the elderly alchemist. To ensure its grip, he had to hold the hilt with both hands tightly, or else it would easily slip away. This meant he could use it for thrusting downward or cutting horizontally, but stabbing forward was a bit challenging. He had tried holding the dagger in reverse, but feared it might slip through the gaps in his palm and certainly didn't trust himself to wield it in the air. Sometimes, he tied knots too tight on Eliza's ankles, and he had to use the dagger to cut them loose, sweating profusely to avoid harming her skin.
Tonight, Abercrombie had the dagger with him because he felt he might need it. "I might have to kill tonight," he thought. He was too old and too weak, needing the aid of a weapon he didn't fully trust to take a life. It wasn't like this when he was young.
His robe had two pockets, one on the right and one on the left. The dagger was in the right pocket, and he had checked it several times to ensure he could reach it with his right hand. The icy blade pressed against his ribs, as if its sharp malevolence had already seeped into his skin. In the left pocket, he had ten gold coins, which could still shine in the darkness of the night. Ten gold coins could make people do many things, to others and for others. These were given to him by Dalia. Since their last meeting, Abercrombie often thought, "That lady is truly a kind-hearted person." But if she weren't a wealthy lady who could easily produce ten gold coins, she probably wouldn't have such a kind heart. When a person is poor, they can only worry about their stomach and have no time for kindness.
So, in his right pocket, Abercrombie had a dagger for killing, and in his left pocket, he had ten gold coins for manipulating. He felt an odd satisfaction, so much so that when he stepped out of his house, Pick barking incessantly, he didn't strike or kick the dog. He felt lighter, more stable in his steps, and his eyes were clearer. He even felt like smiling.
The night was very dark. Abercrombie wasn't afraid of the dark; he was afraid of light. He feared the sudden appearance of bright light in the pitch-black, which would blur his vision, make him unable to move, and cause his hands to tremble. It always revealed his vulnerability and aging body. He preferred not to see his decaying body—although he had believed the physical form didn't matter since he was young, he still unconsciously drove himself to confront the frustration brought by his unresponsive body. The light that frightened him the most was the lamplight carried by the Night Watchmen.
Usually, Abercrombie would avoid the Night Watchmen on their patrols. But tonight was different. One of the Night Watchmen passed by him, said nothing, just gave him a glance, and continued walking. This unexpected dismissal made Abercrombie surprisingly unhappy. He thought this guy should at least ask a casual question like, "Where are you going so late?" Why did he ignore me? It must be because of the gold coins and the dagger in my pockets. Although he can't see what's in my pockets, just by looking at my footsteps and listening to the sounds I make, he knows today's alchemist is different. Money and a knife, a knife and money, that's all we need, right?
When the next Night Watchman passed by, Abercrombie took the initiative to greet him and raised his left hand so that the gold coins in his pocket would make a sound. Clank, clank. Why doesn't he even look at me? He must be pretending not to hear, that's for sure. Once I pass by, he'll surely regret not stopping and listening to the sound of my ten gold coins. It would take him months to earn this much; how could he not be tempted? But let me warn you, even if you are tempted, don't think about trying anything with me. Just an inch away from the gold coins is my dagger. It can slice your skin, pick out your veins, and soak you in red, dark red. So don't even think about it.
But I'm not greedy," Abercrombie swallowed hard. "I just need the gold coins to do something for me. Thank heaven they're in my pocket, and thanks to the beautiful Lady Dalia..."
So, by the time Abercrombie reached his destination—a small tavern, he was in the best mood he had been in for a year. This mood faltered slightly when he saw Tunnadus sitting inside the tavern.
This little establishment was precisely the kind of place frequented by individuals like Tunnadus, that is, a place where you couldn't safely let gold coins make noise. Abercrombie reached into his left pocket, gripping the gold coins tightly, even causing the surface of his robe to stretch taut. A few pairs of eyes glanced at him but quickly lost interest. In Abercrombie's mind, these people were probably thinking, "Just that old lunatic."
Abercrombie approached Tunnadus.
"I... I'm here."
Tunnadus looked up at him, staring for several seconds before saying, "Sit, sit."
The old man sat down and glanced at the glass of liquor in front of Tunnadus. The surface of the liquor reflected the shadow of a beam on the ceiling.
"You're drinking," he remarked.
Tunnadus lowered his head, tilted his gaze upward, letting the shadow of his eyelids cover most of his irises as he watched the old man.
"That... did you bring it?" Abercrombie asked.
Tunnadus took out a small bottle, pinching it between his left thumb and forefinger, giving it a gentle shake.
"Don't shake it."
"Why are you nervous?" Tunnadus said. "It's not going to spill."
"Oh... it won't," Tunnadus replied.
"It's what you wanted."
Tunnadus placed the bottle on the table, holding it down with his index finger, continuing to shake it, maintaining about a sixty-degree angle between the bottle bottom and the tabletop.
"What are you waiting for? Pay up," he said.
"But... in this place?"
"What's there to be afraid of? You're sitting right in front of Tunnadus."
"Oh," Abercrombie clutched the coins, feeling a sharp pain in his palm. He pulled them out, as if salvaging a clock covered in seaweed and fish roe from the seabed; then he released his fingers, watching them fall one by one onto the table, as though they had been attached to the flesh of his palm and were now dripping away with it. The clear, clinking sound became a wail as if cutting through bones with a saw.
Tunnadus glanced at the coins once, then focused back on Abercrombie.
"Only eight pieces."
"There are more, there are more."
The old man placed the remaining two coins on the table together, and Tunnadus swiftly collected them.
"As agreed, ten coins. You may check."
"I'm not blind."
"Well then," Abercrombie looked at the small bottle that kept swaying under Tunnadus's finger, "I'll be taking this."
Tunnadus's fingers came to a halt.
"What gives you the right to take this stuff?" he asked.
"Wasn't it agreed upon? As long as I pay ten gold coins..."
"Ten gold coins only clear your past debt," Tunnadus retrieved the small bottle, "to buy this, you need to pay extra."
"That's not what we agreed on."
"You also know I'm in a high-risk business. Commodity prices change every day. Lately, a fellow from Gadgetzan came to me and ordered a large batch of this stuff, saying the whole of Kalimdor is running low, so the market is bullish. Now, the ten gold coins only cover your past debt."
"You..." Abercrombie's right eyelid twitched. "How much more do I need to pay?"
"Not much, just five more gold coins. You'll get this thirty milliliters, and I'll throw in one syringe as a bonus."
"I can't afford it right now."
"Then there's nothing more to discuss." Tunnadus seemed to be getting up.
"Wait, I won't pay back the old debt. I'll just buy this one bottle, no need for the syringe, and you give me back five gold coins."
"Come back when you have the money."
"No, no! I won't need you to return the five gold coins. Take all ten, just give me this one bottle. I'll pay off the old debt later. I really need it now," his voice trembled, like a branch weighed down by heavy snow, swaying in the cold wind. "Please."
"You foolish old man, I thought after living for over sixty years, you finally understood what it means to repay debts. I let you run a tab earlier because you were a fellow townsman, but I never expected it to be for so many years. I won't allow you to disrupt my business anymore, so now let's settle all your past affairs, and from now on, we'll calculate everything openly. Your past debt has been cleared. If you want to continue doing business with me, you'll have to pay in cash. That's it. You have no money? Goodbye."
Tunnadus turned around. He put the bottle in his pocket.
"Please," Abercrombie said, "I beg you."
Tunnadus walked out of the tavern.
Abercrombie stood still for a moment, then followed, maintaining a distance of about twenty paces.
"I must get the elixir," he said, "I'm just missing this one thing."
"Then pay for it," Tunnadus replied without looking back. "Stop following me."
The old alchemist stared at the man's back, his right hand gripping the dagger. He had tried many times, just a quick pull of the elbow, and the dagger would be out. Then, holding it with both hands, he could run a few steps forward and stab him. Stab him in the back. This despicable, cunning, vile man had no right to treat him this way. He couldn't just stand by and watch his foolish actions ruin his great research. Just a few steps to run and stab, his hand was strong, and the blade was sharp; he could definitely pierce his body. Whether he lived or died afterward, he didn't care. He knew where he had placed the elixir and the ten gold coins, and he needed to retrieve them. They were all his belongings, the things he had taken out with him tonight. Tunnadus, you wicked scoundrel who deserves to die. I will...
He drew the dagger.
He was about to lunge forward when his hand trembled, and the dagger fell onto the cobblestone road.
The clear clatter of the blade hitting the ground startled Abercrombie, and Tunnadus turned around, seeing the dagger.
"You... you were about to attack? Old man, aren't you afraid of stabbing yourself?"
He walked towards Abercrombie. The old man sensed that he was going to grab the dagger. Tunnadus was furious, and he would surely take the knife, even if he didn't try to kill him. He probably wouldn't trade with him anymore either.
What should I do, what should I do? Eliza, tell me, what should I do?
Just then, a shadow darted out from the roadside bushes. Abercrombie saw the shadow collide with Tunnadus and then run away, while Tunnadus let out a muffled cry and fell to the ground.
The old alchemist stood still for a moment, then approached and crouched down. Tunnadus lay on the ground, black blood oozing from his abdomen. He groaned faintly.
"Old man," he said, "help me call for help. That son of a bitch tried to kill me."
A gust of cold night wind swept through the cracks in the leaves. Abercrombie shuddered. Then, he reached into Tunnadus's body and retrieved the small vial and the gold coins, putting them back into his own pockets. He got up and walked away.
"Come back, old man," Tunnadus said. "Where are you going...?"
Abercrombie continued walking. On his way home, he tried to avoid the night watchmen and their lanterns as best as he could.