Chapter 95 | Reincarnated as a Necromancer, I Turned a Death Desert Into Paradise

The Drunken Sandgull, a tavern in the southeast corner of the circular plaza, was more than three times livelier tonight than usual.

Derrick stood on the round table in the very center of the first-floor hall, the soles of his boots gripping the edge of the tabletop. Though he swayed unsteadily, the parchment in his hand was held perfectly still.

“Do you see it clearly?! Do you see it clearly?!”

He yelled at the top of his lungs, drawing the eyes of everyone around him. “Written by Her Highness's own hand! The Third Imperial Princess of the Empire! She called me Mr. Derrick!”

“Ohhh...!”

The surrounding crowd of adventurers and mercenaries immediately began to jeer and cheer, and the scene grew rowdy.

“Derrick, you lucky bastard!”

“That's the royal family! You're just an adventurer who can't even get near a baron's front door, and now you have a connection with the Princess!”

“You've really hit the jackpot this time, hahaha!”

The praise sent Derrick floating on cloud nine. His knees buckled, and he almost tumbled off the table, but luckily, a quick-witted companion beside him caught him in time.

“Easy, easy! This is our biggest entertainment tonight, don't go breaking yourself!”

“Hahaha!”

The tavern erupted in laughter once more, the atmosphere reaching a fever pitch.

In the furthest corner of the tavern, Leo Tinskin held his glass, watching the spectacle with a cold, detached gaze.

Most of his body was hidden in the shadows. On the small round table before him sat a half-empty glass of cheap ale, a thin layer of foam clinging to the rim.

Leo was thirty-seven years old and had been working at the Windrest City Alchemists' Guild for nine years. His position was neither too high nor too low, earning him a monthly salary of eight gold coins. Combined with the guild's monthly material allowance of two gold coins, it was barely enough to maintain a respectable life in Windrest City.

His glasses had cheap, non-prescription lenses, and the temples were wrapped with thin copper wire because the original frame had snapped three years ago, and he couldn't bring himself to buy a new pair.

A monthly salary of eight gold coins was considered a decent income in the eyes of ordinary citizens, but Leo knew better than anyone how incredibly tight that amount was for an alchemist.

A standard alchemy workbench alone cost twenty gold coins just for the basic configuration.

And a complete set of glassware started at five gold coins for the cheapest option. Then there were the consumables—things like filter paper for purification and wax seals for airtightness—every single item was a money sink.

Not to mention materials. Anything remotely associated with “mana” started at ten times the price of ordinary materials.

So although his income was considered above average in Windrest City, his actual monthly savings were less than five gold coins. The occasional private commission he took to earn extra cash was only enough to plug the holes left by material expenses.

And the reason he was sitting here drinking away his sorrows was precisely because his latest private commission had run into trouble.

A week ago, he had agreed to brew five standard doses of mana potion for a local apothecary.

The pay wasn't high—only three gold coins in total for the five potions—but the process was simple and the turnaround time was short. Leo had figured he could finish it in two days, making the three gold coins a decent deal.

But when he eagerly began preparing the materials, he discovered that the most critical ingredient, Moon-glow Herb juice, had been out of stock in Windrest City for two weeks.

Moon-glow Herb itself wasn't particularly rare, but this year's rainy season had arrived nearly a month earlier than usual. Yields in the primary cultivation areas had plummeted, and the entire stock in Windrest City had been swept clean by a few large alchemy workshops. Small workshops and independent alchemists stood no chance.

Without the Moon-glow Herb juice, the mana potions could not be produced.

So, Leo had run to four different material shops, asked every colleague he knew, and even swallowed his pride to beg senior members of the guild for a favor, but the result was always the same—no stock.

The delivery date was in three days. If he couldn't deliver, not only would he have to pay a penalty, but more importantly, it would affect his commission rating within the guild.

His current rating was already hovering right on the edge of passing. Over the years, the on-time delivery rate of his private commissions was barely over sixty percent.

If he had another failed delivery on his record, the guild might very well downgrade his commission privileges or even expel him from the membership list.

The thought sent a wave of suffocation through Leo. He raised his glass and took a huge gulp, the bitterness of the cheap ale swirling in his throat.

Just then, the clamor in the center of the tavern rose another pitch.

“Derrick! Where are your eggs? Bring them out for everyone to see!”

“Yeah! Weren't there ten eggs? You're so busy showing off that letter, where are the eggs?”

Derrick staggered down from the table, nearly stepping on a companion's foot, and then bent down to pick up the tilted wicker basket at his feet.

“Right here!”

He reached inside, pulled out a silver-white egg, held it above his head, and shook it. “Look! A specialty of the Golden Sea, one silver coin each! You can't buy this anywhere else!”

“Whoa! It really is silver!”

“For real? It's not dyed, is it?”

“Who cares if it's real or fake? Derrick, crack one open so we can try it!”

“Yeah! Let us taste it! One silver coin each!”

Derrick was clearly a bit tipsy. Grinning, he turned and set the wicker basket on the table, preparing to take one out and crack it open in front of everyone.

But his turn was too sudden, and his elbow accidentally clipped the rim of the basket.

The basket tilted, and the eggs inside immediately rolled down the sloped bottom, over the edge of the table, and onto the floor. Surprisingly, they didn't break, instead bouncing and rolling away in all directions.

“Hey! My eggs!”

Derrick hurriedly bent down in a panic to gather them, but he had drunk too much. He lost his balance as he squatted, stumbling forward and nearly face-planting onto the floor.

Several companions nearby quickly caught him, and a burst of laughter erupted throughout the tavern.

In the corner, Leo happened to witness this scene, his eyes locking onto one of the eggs.

The egg had rolled exceptionally far, slipping through the gaps of several tables all the way to his feet, stopping only when it bumped against the toe of his boot.

Leo's brow twitched slightly as he looked down at the silver-white egg, which gave off a very faint luster under the dim candlelight of the tavern.

He bent down and reached out to pick up the egg.

It felt slightly heavy in his hand, smooth to the touch, with no roughness or irregularities on its surface, not even a single scratch from the fall.

Recalling the scene of the egg hitting the floor just now, a curious Leo instinctively brought the egg closer for a more detailed look.

Right then, his body shuddered, and his eyes narrowed. His gaze, which had been somewhat unfocused from the alcohol, suddenly grew razor-sharp.

In that split second, he felt an extremely weak fluctuation of mana from the surface of the eggshell.

It wasn't very obvious, and someone who didn't work with alchemical materials daily might have overlooked it. But Leo was an alchemist; the materials he handled every day for years made him more sensitive to the presence of mana than anyone else.

He was certain his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. There was indeed mana clinging to the eggshell.

Leo's breathing suddenly quickened. He subconsciously gripped the egg tighter, then quickly scanned his surroundings.

The tavern was still noisy and chaotic. Derrick was being hauled back into his chair by his companions, and no one paid any attention to what the alchemist with the old glasses was doing in the corner.

Leo's Adam's apple bobbed.

His gaze swept across the floor, and he noticed that five more silver-white eggs were still scattered and uncollected. It was likely that because of the dim lighting and the crowd of moving feet, Derrick and his friends had missed a few when cleaning up.

Leo quietly shifted his position, bent down, and picked up those five eggs as well.

He stood up, drained the remaining half-mouthful of ale from his glass, pulled his collar tight, and walked toward the back door of the tavern with his head down.