CHAPTER 133: CHAPTER 131: WANPIAO, THE FLAVOR IS OFF

"Wanpiao, the taste isn’t right!"

Jeska spat out the remnants of the potion along with the saliva, his expression utterly distorted.

Horn immediately turned his gaze towards the young pharmacist Sessi.

The middle-aged pharmacist beside Sessi couldn’t help but show a mocking smile.

At this moment, standing inside the wooden house were Jeska, Hakuto, Casti, and the two pharmacists that Casti had brought.

The window shutter was propped up with a wooden stick, and the morning breeze carried a faint floral scent, making Horn involuntarily sneeze.

These two pharmacists were found by Casti for Horn.

The middle-aged pharmacist’s name was Targa, and the young pharmacist’s name was Sessi.

The former had been sentenced by the guild court to ten years without being allowed to prepare potions for minor ailments due to "malicious dumping."

The latter had his pharmacist qualification revoked by the Pharmacist Guild due to selling "fake drugs" and could only secretly sell potions in villages or slums.

Besides them, no other pharmacists were willing to go to Black Snake Bay.

However, since Horn could only take 30 people, he decided to employ only one.

After all, pharmacists also have assistants and apprentices, which would probably take two or three slots.

So he specially called Jeska and Hakuto, these two old soldiers, to test them, as they were familiar with potions.

"Sessi, dare you make fake medicine on such an occasion?" Casti asked with a frown.

"What did you add to this hot-blood potion?" Jeska wiped his tongue with a handkerchief. "Not only does it taste bad, but its effectiveness feels lessened too."

"It’s blue-red flower; I added blue-red flower." Sessi quickly explained, "Although it slightly reduces the effectiveness, it makes the potion much cheaper, making it affordable for ordinary people."

Targa laughed cynically, "Hmm, isn’t it still fake medicine?"

"It’s not fake medicine; it works, and it’s less harmful to the human body..."

"You can’t just change the formula; if you do, who knows what might happen?" Targa angrily reprimanded, "Whoever dares to change ancestral formulas will have their qualifications revoked!"

A pharmacist who knows how to change formulas, that’s interesting.

Horn looked thoughtfully at Sessi.

Ignoring Targa’s reprimands, Horn rested his elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, "Sessi, right? Let me ask you, by doing this, how much will the effectiveness be reduced?"

"I can’t give a precise number, but based on user feedback, it seems to reduce by twenty to thirty percent."

"What about the cost?"

"The cost of cultivating blue-red grass is relatively low; if you cultivate blue-red grass on a small scale, you can reduce the cost by about forty percent." Sessi thought for a moment and continued, "If you cultivate it on a large scale, you can reduce the cost by an additional ten percent."

"Alright, I understand." Horn stood up, paced back and forth in silence and observation for a while.

"Targa, you can go back and wait for notification. Sessi, I have some questions for you." Horn said, looking at the two of them.

Targa was initially stunned; he looked at Sessi incredulously, then at Horn on the other side, "You want to choose him?"

"Mr. Targa, I think you should head back." Horn didn’t directly answer his question.

"Sir, do you really want to choose him? Didn’t you see what he did? This is simply for..."

"Targa!" Casti abruptly interrupted him, "Didn’t you hear what Lord Horn said? You can leave now!"

Stopping in his tracks after Casti’s angry shout, Targa grudgingly smiled twice, turned around without hesitation, and left.

Narrow-minded nobles, rightly should flee to Black Snake Bay; if it weren’t for having no choice, Targa wouldn’t suffer this indignation.

The wooden door slammed shut by Targa, leaving Sessi standing nervously in place, "Sir, have I been employed?"

"Sessi, let me ask you one last question. In Black Snake Bay, the Pharmacist Guild’s influence is small.

Are you willing to teach your skills to others, so more people can treat their illnesses with potions?"

After a silence so long it felt suffocating, Sessi finally said, "May I bring my apprentice with me, is that okay?"

"It’s fine."

"Then, I’m willing, as long as they don’t harm people with potions."

Sessi left the wooden house; he had three days to pack his luggage and say goodbye to nearby friends.

Three days later, he would bring along his apprentice for collection here.

On his notebook, Horn wrote down Sessi’s name next to the word "pharmacist."

"Lord Casti’s efficiency is quite impressive, no wonder the Duke hired you as chief courtier."

"You’re too kind." Early in the morning, Casti carried a faint scent of alcohol.

However, in Falan culture, the smell of alcohol is regarded as a man’s perfume, so despite Miseria’s counsel to drink less, they still drank at all three meals daily without fail.

"Next, are we visiting the stonemason?"

"Yes." Casti rubbed his temples with a headache, "You know, the stonemason we are going to visit didn’t originally want any of his apprentices to leave.

He will provide one only because he owes the Duke a favor.

There’s also a minor issue; he’s a stubborn and proud man, so he’ll want you to sign a contract.

Ten years later, if the stonemason wishes to return, you cannot stop him. Do you accept this?"

"Of course." Horn only needed someone for the initial phase.

Ten years later, he estimated he’d be a High Priest, then even if you don’t want the job, there’d be people willing to do it.

Regarding the stonemason, Horn couldn’t stay home waiting for someone; accompanied by several guards, he got in Casti’s carriage and headed toward Joan of Arc Castle.

As the carriage moved, the number of houses on both sides of the road gradually increased, alongside vendors and vegetable farmers selling fresh agri-products and vegetables under wooden sheds.

Leather workshops emitted billowing white steam, the pelts tautened on wooden frames drying in the shade.

Across from the leather workshop was a butcher shop, where a burly butcher was hanging a bloody pig leg on an iron hook.

Here, the carriage slowed down, with farmers leading cows and farmwomen carrying wooden buckets all over the road.

Similar to other places, farmers here looked pale and lean.

They carried pitchforks, the tips sticking with dirt, dragging wagons filled with hay towards the fields.

Sticking his head out of the carriage, Horn gazed toward Joan of Arc Castle on a distant high platform; below the castle, a sparkling river meandered by.

Two large rivers flowed through Thousand River Valley, with Nao’an River flowing west to the Golden Plains downstream meeting Jade Sea and Ibe River going south through Black Snake Bay merging into Xilan Sea.

Joan of Arc Castle was located upstream of the Ibe River, with a canal built during the El Empire period crossing through the town.

Originally, it wasn’t Duke Kush’s jurisdiction; after nearby ports developed into towns, previous generations of Duke Kush came here reluctantly having lost large territories.

Then they stayed contented, forgetting about home.

By Dane’s father’s era, they used a name change to return to the old capital—by renaming Canal Town to Joan of Arc Castle.

Joan of Arc Castle comprised the inner city and outer city, with the actual Joan of Arc Castle fortress in the inner city, where the Duke resides, located atop a two-fathom high mound.

The outer city was where citizens congregated, featuring pointed-roof houses and towers, with a tall clock tower standing in a corner, beside which were the City Hall and a church.

Scholars collectively nominated by citizens and the Duke’s courtiers jointly managed the City Hall.

Most of the time, the Duke didn’t directly interfere with politics and law here.

In return, citizens and merchants needed to pay substantial redemption tax, but for the sake of freedom, citizens still paid it annually and on time.

The area near the canal was filled with guild buildings, taverns, technical institutes, warehouses, and various workshops.

When Horn’s carriage arrived here, artisans from dye workshops were seen pouring steaming black-gray wastewater into the canal.

Alighting from the carriage, Horn instantly felt a pungent dye aroma hitting him, making him involuntarily cover his nose.

Following Casti through bends in alleyways, they finally arrived at the stonemason’s workshop.