Author's Note:
This ended up being a pretty lore-heavy installment, with a lot of the different threads in this story being developed. Also, admittedly, there are a few retcons to (hopefully) remedy some timing weirdness in the last chapter. Had I planned all this out better, I'd probably have found a way to space things out a bit more evenly -- probably would've placed some of the bits with Kjelle and Mayim that appear here in earlier chapters instead. But it is what it is now... until, possibly, I get around to rewrites one day.
Note that the first big part of this chapter (every perspective but Cal's) occurs a little earlier on the 'timeline' than the final stuff you saw with Cal in the previous chapter. Think of it like a 'where have they been?' It also doesn't feature a ton of outright sexy stuff, but I think Cal's subsequent bits will make up for that.
I really do appreciate all the continued support (and some very helpful pointers that really helped me iron out the timeline for future installments of this story!) Hope you enjoy the latest installment -- and know that I'm making big plans for this story to continue in a lot of fun directions!
5. A Shock to the System
Vythia's workshop was the envy of many in her profession. Ship-shape, spacious, well-stocked, and immaculately organized. Few visited, and Vythia liked it that way. The alchemist of Universe Forty-Two worked best alone. It was easier to be efficient and productive without visitors, supervisors, or even assistants underfoot. No one to get in the way or cause problems. That was how she'd managed the great breakthroughs she made -- up to and including the creation of a certain golden elixir, a task set for her by a Goddess herself.
A flickering of the crystalline messaging array beside Vythia's workbench interrupted the alchemist's work on a minor commission, some trivial tonic for the son of a wealthy High Cosmos noble. She brushed the commission aside and stepped up to the crystal, whose bright glow signified the importance of the caller. Vythia waved a hand over the crystalline surface, allowing the connection, and then bowed.
"My Goddess of Universe Twenty-Three," Vythia intoned, her eyes rising up from the floor. "How lovely to receive your call."
A face shimmered into sight, its features beautiful but stern in the holographic projection -- the Goddess Nymphadottir. In all truth, Vythia resented the interruption to her work, and resented the arrogance and vanity of this particular patron, and especially resented having to bow. But refusing to work with deities was never a wise choice -- and ignoring their calls just as unwise. With a veneer of politeness and reverence, Vythia prepared to deal with her divine customer -- whose expression Vythia now noticed looked less than pleased. Could Nymphadottir be displeased with the quality of her commissioned elixir? That couldn't be. Unless...
"Alchemist. You told me I'd receive a package. When I could expect it. How it would be delivered." Nymphadottir spoke in clipped tones, her face impassive and cold. "That has not happened. Two day-cycles it has been since you told me you were sending a courier to my court. Yet still I sit here in my palace, waiting, with no one at my gates. Where is my delivery, Alchemist? Where is my elixir?"
Vythia bit back a grimace. This was no good scenario. She recalled that peppy, fidgety courier who'd shown up to make the delivery; recalled how, even then, the girl had hardly seemed a good candidate to entrust with something so important. But Vythia had stamped down those thoughts back then. The elixir had gone off, out of her hands. Now, this? Vythia felt negligent for letting that obvious greenhorn of a courier leave with the precious elixir. She ought to have double-checked her credentials and records. Ought to have made sure it was in good hands. Now Vythia had no idea where that bumbling little thing had disappeared to, no idea if the elixir had been lost or intercepted along the way, no idea at all toward the package's current whereabouts.
And now Vythia faced a wrathful Goddess.
"It has not arrived, then?" she asked, careful to keep her tone neutral. "I was not aware of that. Strange, to be sure. The delivery ought to have reached you swiftly. The courier service boasted of their efficiency. I shall have to speak with them about their performance. Perhaps there was a delay, or a miscommunication."
"I care not what excuses you have," the Goddess replied. "I only care that I have my elixir. I waited months for you to craft it for me, Alchemist -- patient as I could be, though even that stretched my limits. I told myself there were reasons for such delays. That you were the only one who could craft such a thing -- something to make all the beings of my lovely universe fall all the deeper into unquestioning adoration of me, as I've desired for millennia -- and that the fruits of your labors would be worth the wait. Now that the work is finished, you fail to deliver?"
The alchemist raised her hands, palms open. "My Goddess, I assure you -- the courier was sent, the delivery scheduled. It is only that --"
"I want what's mine, Alchemist." Nymphadottir's burning glare pierced through the hologram. "And I don't want to wait any longer, sitting about my courts with attendants who could never be as devoted to my beauty as I desire. I do not care what it takes you to get it for me. Find that courier who somehow lost it -- or worse, stole it for herself, for all either of us know. Find my elixir. And if you do discover the foul play I suspect? Report it to me at once. I shall see that the thief, and anyone aiding them, is punished. Swiftly. Excruciatingly."
Vythia swallowed, bowing again. "Of course, my Goddess. I can look into the portal-jump routes the courier made. When I find where she's gone, I can track her down and retrieve the elixir. I am certain it is just a simple mistake. A mishap. Nothing more. Whatever the case, I will be sure not to let you down."
"You had best not," Nymphadottir replied. "My, the last time I got to smite someone was ages ago. I think I'd enjoy it. Do not give me an excuse, Alchemist."
With that, the hologram flickered out, leaving the crystalline array dark and silent.
Vythia's shoulders slumped as she turned back to her workbench, letting out a heavy sigh. The commission she'd been working on lay half-finished, but she no longer felt any desire to finish it. More pressing things preoccupied her now. Her reputation dangled on the line -- perhaps even her life, too, if Nymphadottir grew impatient and wrathful enough.
