The bottle was tossed into the air. The purple and flame coloured substance twisted and churned with in. Reaching the apex of the toss, the bottle started it’s decent. Nimrad looked at his guest who stood perfectly still. The bottle was less than a foot away from the cold and hard cobblestone. Neither of the two men showed any signs of movement.
“KABOOM!~” Nimrad shouted, as the glass bottle hit the hard floor. He flinched and looked away. There was a short moment of silence.
“I fail to see the point of this…” The man responded.
Nimrad grabbed the slightly chipped bottle from the ground, checking to see what had happened. He polished the side of the bottle with a dry cloth to check for leaks or major fractures. Whispering to the bottle Nimrad darted his eyes back and forth between the man and the bottle.
“This demo over?” The man asked.
“How did you know it wouldn’t explode?” Nimrad asked quickly; his brows furrowed.
“Well firstly, based on the thickness of the glass and the height it reached, it would have had to land on a sharp point to break” he stamped his foot on the floor. “ The cobblestone here is flat. Secondly, you don’t seem like the type who wants to get caught up in a big explosion.”
“Fine! What brings you to my new living space? You can’t kick me out or threaten me, I’ve been here well over a month now, and no one has complained!”
“Do you even know who I am?”
Nimrad looked the man up and down.
“You are a blond haired, pale skinned, male. It would seem you are some sort of guard based off your shield, or probably just some little kid that collects guard memorabilia. You have a sash with the name Volund on it and Commander.” Nimrad took a second to catch his breath, “You are probably a pencil pusher, overworked, and have no life, thus, you spend your time stalking a lonesome alchemist who is trying to make a somewhat honest living. Also, it would appear that you have some semblance of intellect as you could calculate the thickness of a bottle without even touching it or you are simply daft. Now with that you may leave.” He motioned to the egress. “I have answered your questions.”
Commander Volund scratched his head as Nimrad started to rant. In order to hurry the process he decided that he would play along with Nimrad’s game.
“Correct, correct, correct, correct, no, correct, correct, correct, somewhat, somewhat. That actually is not the reason I came here Nimrad. You see this place you’ve started to call your own is actually a rather important establishment. We, the Royal Guard, would like to ask that you…”
“No. Get out! It’s mine.” Nimrad slammed his hand against a table nearby and glared at the guard “You guards need to work on being nice. Evil the lot of you. You’re just like that ugly troll like one, Clemons, aren’t you!?!”
“No? Oh what a terrible shame… You don’t want to be made one of the Arch Mages of the tower? You would have all rights and control over anything magical that relates to alchemy. You would get royal funding for research. Some of these “legal” experiments you do would be legitimate. You might even be allowed to tell off the ‘ugly troll’ because of your position. Maybe. We are hiring a group of magically inclined people to lead this tower to its former glory; one Arch Mage per field of study.” Volund took a moment to allow this information to sink in. He grinned and continued “Seeing that you don’t want that, I am going to have to arrest you for attacking an officer of the Royal Guard.”
“Wait! No! Wait!” Nimrad started to lose his strong face and acted more normal; normal for Nimrad. “Nimrad is a good sir. You don’t want to hurt him. A showing of good faith! Here take this talisman. It will keep you alive, nothing to worry about, see we are all good friends here!”
“Keep me alive?” Volund asked, appearing somewhat confused.
“Oh, the bottle, it wasn’t filled with a liquid… It’s gas. That little chip allowed for some to escape. I already have a cure in me. The only reason I looked away is because if it had broken entirely you wouldn’t still be standing; but you, well, Nimrad is a good sir. Worst that will happen is… anyhow put the talisman on now, and drink this.” Nimrad handed him a potion and a mysterious looking talisman “Nimrad is sorry about your orange appearance, and red hair. You will get used to it. Looks completely natural.” He nodded trying to reassure himself, “I wasn’t aware you were a polite guard. Too many mean oranges in a box of grapes make a strange salad as they say. Worry not, you will not die now, we are friends! Friends don’t murder friends, though Nimrad would never murder anyone; they would just sadly happen to get sick and then turn into dust over a slow painful period of a week or five. To deal with important matters, if I accept you will make sure the evil Clemons doesn’t bother me now?”
Volund stood there for a good minute without saying a word. He chugged down the potion and put on the talisman. He started to feel a bit ill as the after taste of the potion was vile.
“I said, might. Might be able to. You will have to help us out a fair bit, to earn some respect, and do some side jobs to make sure you are actually loyal to the guard but in time I have a feeling that you will easily have, ‘That ugly troll’, fetching your every need.” Volund knew this not to be true, but knew it was the only way to get Nimrad to agree. He didn’t mean to lie, as if he truly did serve well, he would be placed of high importance. This, however, was more a way to keep track of him and insure he wasn’t going to blow up the mage tower, the guards, or a town.
“Students! I will have to get at least fifty or a thousand. Maybe more. Quick now guard, leave! I have tests to make!” Nimrad started to push the man out of the mage tower, and began talking to himself about playing with items of questionable nature.
Nimrad slammed the door shut, and barred it the best he could, preventing Volund from entering.
Tipping his head to Luccile, the Mage Tower trainer, the commander of the guard grinned, the widest he’s grinned in sometime. Whistling he began his walked back to Britain.