"Mm…" Oliver bit his lip, feeling a physical pain as he saw his chances for coin slipping away. It seemed as though he'd have been better off just bringing massive sacks, and stuffing them to the brim with the parts of lesser goblins. At least then the alchemists would have been able to afford to buy them off him… but that was just such an inefficient method.
"How much did you say you could sell this regeneration potion for?" Oliver asked.
"I could sell a small vial for 3 golds, easily," Nebular said, "the medical department would buy them in bulk from me, even if the students weren't interested. But that is merely hypothetical. I've never brewed such a potion before."
"But you believe you can learn how to?" Oliver asked.
"Well, yes," Nebular said with a frown, as if he couldn't understand the point of the question. "But again, that is a mere hypothetical. My business is failing. I could not afford to do that anytime soon. It could cost as many as ten failed batches before I got it right… but I'm confident that I could do it. The theory of it is sound, and well known to most alchemists by their second year.
We just rarely get a chance to practise it, is all."
"What if I funded you those parts," Oliver asked.
"Ser Patrick, I believe we've gone over this… I can't afford to—"
"I'm not asking for payment. I'm just saying get it done. I've got a surplus of Hobgoblin rotting away, and I'm looking for gold for it. You seem like my best shot at that. I fund you the parts, you learn it, sell it, and we split the initial profits 80 20 in my favour. How's that?" Oliver asked.
He felt a rush as he said it. It was the first time in a while that he'd conducted anything close to resembling a business deal… though it wasn't as if his deals were particularly impressive in the past.
Nebular froze. He reached his hand for the wooden chair behind his table to steady himself. Oliver hadn't expected him to be that shocked. He hadn't even really expected him to be surprised. It was an offer that worked out something profitable for both of them, wasn't it?
"Wait, are you crying, Ser Nebula..?" Amelia asked. It wasn't her usual barbed attack. This had a little hint of concern in the question.
The alchemist rubbed his eyes on a grubby sleeve. It was no wonder that they'd mistaken him for a yellow shirt at first. His grey robes were stained with sooty black in places, like the cast-off clothes of a smith. It certainly wasn't the sort of appearance that one would expect from nobility.
"No… I'm fine…" He managed to steady himself. "Are you certain?" He asked, when his voice was level.
"Quite certain. How much flesh would you need to experiment with? And how much profit can we expect?" Oliver asked.
"The… regeneration potion, yes, that was the one you asked after, wasn't it? That requires around half an organ for a small vial. The type of organ doesn't particularly matter, though one made from the heart would be more potent.
Perhaps 3 or 4 organs would have to be sacrificed in this pursuit, depending on what they are…" Nebular said regretfully, as if he was sure Oliver would change his mind after that fact.
Oliver merely nodded. "So, we give up the liver, both kidneys, and the pancreas, and that should see your experimentation done, should it? Then we have both lungs, the heart and the brain… I think that's all I cut up."
"That's six potions profit then, right?" Pauline said helpfully.
Nebular nodded at that. "Yes… yes, that is right… But are you sure, Ser Oliver? As I say, there is still a risk. I believe in my skills, but there is a chance, and not a small one, that I will completely fail to grasp the technique."
"Then be that as it may," Oliver said. "At least the corpse will have served some purpose other than rotting. It won't be an issue to gather more in future, should we need it. For now, Nebular, I'm looking for coin. Can we find common cause here?"
Nebular nodded, and his grim face broke out into the smallest of smiles, as he dipped his head. "Yes, my Ser, yes indeed."
With a shake of the alchemist's hand, Oliver sealed the deal. "I'll deliver them later this evening. See what you can get done before the weekend, alright, Nebular?"
The boy bowed again. "I am looking forward to their receipt, Ser."
As they walked away, Oliver couldn't help but think that his submissive attitude was likely another reason that others assumed him to be a yellow-shirt, rather than a noble.
"…Was that you being nice?" Amelia asked quietly, as they left the quiet streets where the alchemists congregated.
"How do you mean? It works out for both of us, doesn't it?"
"But I mean, it's a Hobgoblin… A Hobgoblin! That's a huge deal, isn't it?" She said, turning to Pauline for confirmation. Pauline bobbed her head in agreement. "You're meant to put that on your castle wall, aren't you? And talk about it for generations, and all that."
"I don't own a castle," Oliver said. "To me, that's just another lot of smelly green flesh, but with the potential for coin… Hopefully."
"Hm…" Came the reply, followed by a thoroughly suspicious look. Why did everyone think that he was somehow the Darkest of all the Dark Gods? And that he was secretly trying to steal away someone's soul whenever he did anything the least bit accommodating.
"My Lord! My Lord! I've managed it!" Verdant said, more excited than Oliver had ever seen him, as he hammered at Oliver's door in the early hours of the evening. Oliver opened it a crack, surprised to see that the man was sweating, despite the cold.