Chapter 4: The Alchemy of Fertilizer

The alchemy shop in Booty Bay was squeezed into the end of the messiest alley in the dock district. Its sign hung crookedly, painted with fading letters that read "Goldhand Brothers Alchemy Workshop," accompanied by a drawing of a crucible bubbling with green sludge—a masterpiece that looked like the work of a drunken goblin.

When Dren pushed the door open, the hinges emitted a piercing "creak," as if protesting against the disturbance of their peace. A wave of heat, smelling of sulfur, rotting grass, and something suspiciously cloying, rushed out to meet him, tightening his throat. He reflexively covered his nose, but his elbow knocked into a string of dried lizard tails hanging by the door. The withered things rattled like wind chimes.

"Watch it! Those are Zangarmarsh imports—worth half your life!" a thin, shrill voice piped up from behind the counter.

Dren narrowed his eyes. In the dim glow of the oil lamp, he finally made out the speaker: a goblin even rounder than their guide, Rizk, wearing a filthy white lab coat (if it could still be called white). The goblin was standing on tiptoe, arranging a row of eyeballs floating in purple liquid on a shelf. The eyes rotated slowly with the movement of the liquid, their pupils seemingly still fixed on people.

Onyxia—now "Selina Morningstar"—stood half a step behind Dren, her staff tapping the floor lightly, her face etched with disdain. Her high elf illusion looked entirely out of place in such a filthy environment; even her silver hair seemed to be coated in a layer of grime.

"Welcome to 'Wrench Brothers'!" The goblin hopped off his stool, his gold teeth flashing as he grinned. "I’m Groz Goldhand, the most professional, most affordable, and most—"

"—most boastful alchemy supplier?" Dren finished for him, pulling a crumpled piece of parchment from his tunic. "I need these items, and I need them today."

Groz snatched the list, his bean-like eyes scanning it rapidly. "Sulfur, saltpeter, purified water, glassware... Hmm? And hair?" He looked up, revealing a cunning smile. "Customer, what are you planning? A love potion? A cursed doll? Or perhaps—"

"Fertilizer." Dren remained expressionless.

"Fertilizer?!" The goblin’s voice climbed an octave. "Using saltpeter as fertilizer? Do you take me for a farmer from Westfall?"

Dren sighed and pulled a gold coin from his purse, flipping it between his fingers. "Do goblins have a problem with gold coins?"

The glimmer of the coin reflected in the goblin's pupils. His eyes darted back and forth twice before he suddenly lowered his voice. "Actually... if you need some 'special' stock, like—" He leaned over sneakily and fished a small iron box from under the counter, "—Blue Dragon scale powder just shipped from the Hinterlands? Or..." He licked his lips, "I managed to get some felhound spinal fluid last month..."

"No need," Onyxia interrupted suddenly, thumping her staff onto the floor. Her voice was not loud, but it made the flame of the oil lamp tremble violently.

Groz's ears drooped instantly. He gave a dry laugh and quickly shoved the iron box back. "Just a joke! We’re a respectable business!" he muttered under his breath as he turned away, "High elves are so hard to please..."

For the next half hour, Dren followed the goblin through the crowded shelves. Groz moved like an agile gopher, diving into corners piled high with jars or climbing shaky ladders, all the while muttering:

"Sulfur is here—Northrend volcanic specialty! Saltpeter? Ha! You’re lucky, a batch from Tanaris arrived just yesterday... Purified water? Of course! Distilled by goblin technology, 99% purity! What? You want purer? Customer, are you drinking it or conducting experiments?"

Dren ignored his prattle, focusing on inspecting every material. He pinched a bit of saltpeter to rub between his fingers and held the sulfur up to the light to check its quality. Finally, he had Onyxia verify the purity of the water. She nodded, signaling it was acceptable.

"You really are a picky customer," Groz complained, rubbing his numb fingers. "But for the sake of this lady—" He stole a glance at the Dalaran crest on the high elf’s waist, "—I’ll give you ten percent off!"

By the time all the materials were packed, Dren’s cuffs were stained with unknown powders, and Onyxia’s boot tips had unfortunately stepped into a pool of viscous green liquid that smelled like rotten fish.

"Pleasure doing business!" Groz handed over the bill with a grin. "That will be forty-two gold and seven silver—I’ve rounded down the change!"

Onyxia’s eyebrow twitched. Dren quickly pressed down on the hand she used to grip her staff and paid the bill himself.

When Dren and Onyxia returned to the stone house with their bags and bundles, the sky had already darkened.

*Thump!*

Onyxia threw the sack full of sulfur onto the floor with a heavy thud. Dust puffed up, causing Dren to cough twice. She looked down at the green stain on her boot tip that wouldn't wipe away, her dragon pupils contracting dangerously beneath the illusion.

"This trash—" she gritted her teeth, kicking the bag of saltpeter, "—what can it possibly be used for?"

Dren wiped the sweat from his forehead and grinned. "Fertilizer."

The air instantly froze.

"Fer... tilizer?" Onyxia’s voice was terrifyingly soft, each syllable squeezed out from between her teeth.

"Yes, the kind that helps crops grow better—"

"I know what fertilizer is!" The black dragon princess’s roar made the roof tremble and shed dust. Her illusion nearly faltered, with black scales shimmering faintly amidst her silver hair. "You brought me—the daughter of Deathwing!—to haul these dirty rocks like a common laborer, just for gardening?!"

Dren quickly raised his hands. "Patience! Patience! That’s just the cover story!" He lowered his voice. "Think about it: if we openly bought explosive materials, wouldn't the goblins get suspicious? But buying fertilizer ingredients is perfectly reasonable. No one will suspect a thing, not even the dragons."

Onyxia’s dragon breath churned in her chest, but reason barely managed to suppress her rage. She snatched a beaker rack and crushed a support beam with a *snap*. "Your 'result' had better be worth me enduring this."

The following scene was nothing short of absurd—

The six-foot-tall "high elf" hovered in mid-air with a dark face (refusing to step on the dirty floor again), manipulating test tubes with shadow magic. Dren crouched on the ground, assembling glass conduits like building blocks, flinching every time Onyxia "accidentally" dropped a crucible.

"Turn it fifteen degrees to the left," Dren directed at the condenser. "No, back a bit—stop! That’s it—"

*Snap!* The conduit was suddenly bent into a right angle by an invisible force.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?!"

Onyxia smoothed her silver hair elegantly. "Slipped."

When the apparatus was finally assembled, the entire workbench looked as if it had been bombed by a goblin—crooked supports hung with warped glassware, the conduit joints sealed with suspicious green slime (a "gift" from Groz), and inside the beaker that was supposed to contain purified water... floated a few dragon scales that Onyxia had "accidentally" dropped in.

Dren looked at the disaster and suddenly laughed out loud. "You know? This is even better than I expected."

"Oh?" Onyxia raised an eyebrow. "Did you expect it to explode?"

"No." Dren tapped the critical sulfur combustion chamber gently. "Precisely because it looks so decrepit, even if someone were to peek, they would never guess what it can create."

Inside the stone house, acrid sulfur smoke filled the air. Dren covered his nose and mouth with a damp cloth, his eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

"Cough—cough—!" He hunched over and retreated to a corner in a sorry state. "This... this is... cough... much more pungent than I imagined..."

Onyxia, however, stood before the workbench with a pleased curve to her lips. Her slender fingers flicked, and shadow magic enveloped the sulfur blocks, suspending them in the air. Then, with a *hiss*, a burst of black-red dragonfire erupted from her fingertips, precisely scorching the sulfur.

The sulfur melted and burned rapidly, releasing thick clouds of sulfur dioxide that bubbled through the glass conduits into the beaker filled with purified water. The liquid gradually turned a pale yellow, while she casually flicked the escaping smoke straight out the window—like a well-behaved pet snake.

"Mortals are truly fragile," she hummed, even whistling a leisurely tune—an ancient draconic melody, low and rhythmic, as if celebrating a minor act of destruction.

Dren wiped his tears and gave a wry smile. "Your Highness, are you... cough... enjoying this a bit too much?"

Onyxia glanced at him sideways, her dragon pupils flickering in the firelight. "Sulfur suits a dragon best."

Dren couldn't help but chuckle.

As the last bit of sulfur burned away, the liquid in the beaker had become a clear sulfurous acid solution. Onyxia snapped her fingers in satisfaction, and the residual smoke was instantly compressed into a small sphere, vanishing with a *pop* in her palm.

"Done," she shook her hands. "What’s next? Burn more things? Or blow something up?" There was a hint of anticipation in her tone.

Dren rubbed his sore eyes, helpless yet amused. "Next... we have to use this to produce sulfuric acid."

"A more acidic liquid?" Onyxia raised an eyebrow. "You mortals love to fuss over such useless things."

"Useful, very useful." Dren pointed to the bag of saltpeter piled in the corner. "Once we have the sulfuric acid, we can react it with the saltpeter to produce nitric acid—and then, we can create a real 'surprise'."

Onyxia stared at him for two seconds before suddenly letting out a soft laugh. "You little madman... I think I’m starting to like your plan."

Dren grinned, despite the tear tracks still on his face. "Then... another batch?"

Flames ignited at the black dragon princess's fingertips. "This time, I’m burning double."

Just as Onyxia was enthusiastically burning the second batch of sulfur—

"Cough, cough, cough—!!"

A violent coughing fit suddenly echoed from mid-air. Immediately after, a bronze-colored rift tore through the air of the room with a *hiss*. Chromie’s small head poked through the rift, her golden pigtails frizzed out by the acidic fumes, and tears streaming down her face.

"What in the world—cough—are you two doing?!" she shrieked, wiping her eyes and waving her hourglass staff erratically. "This smell is so choking!"

Dren and Onyxia froze simultaneously.

Onyxia’s dragonfire extinguished with a *puff*. She narrowed her eyes, her tone dangerous. "Bronze dragon, are you tailing us?"

"Tailing you?!" Chromie was so angry she jumped out of the time rift, her tiny boots stomping onto the workbench and nearly tipping over the sulfuric acid bottle. "You caused this mess, and you’re blaming me? I just saw the timeline fluctuate, so I came to see what you were doing, and I find you burning sulfur here! It’s bizarre—why is the timeline shifting?"

Dren guiltily rubbed his nose. "Uh... is it that serious?"

"Serious?!" Chromie shrieked. "It makes no sense! It's just burning sulfur, why would it cause such a massive shift in the timeline?"

Onyxia folded her arms and sneered. "So? Are you going to stop us?"

Chromie choked, her momentum instantly waning. She stole a glance at the dragonfire still flickering at Onyxia’s fingertips and then at Dren’s face, which was plastered with "innocence." Finally, she let her shoulders slump in defeat. "Forget it, do whatever you want! Just pretend I was never here! Cough, cough—"