There was a fine line between genius and insanity, and Lucian Thorne was currently tap-dancing on it.
He stood barefoot in what used to be the estate's outdoor wash area—now rebranded in his mind as the "R&D Division." His tools? A broken cauldron, half a barrel of goat fat, two chipped mugs, and a shovel that smelled vaguely like onions.
📜 Quest Progress: "Filthy and Broke" 3% Complete
✅ Ingredients Acquired:
– Animal fat ✔️
– Wood ash ✔️
– Water ✔️
– Human dignity ❌ (Perpetually missing)
"I don't remember chemistry being this... disgusting," Lucian muttered, stirring the fat over a fire built from his own broken furniture.
Sir Bo leaned over the pot and gagged. "Smells like boiled pig armpits, my lord."
"It is boiled pig armpits. Kind of." Lucian wiped his forehead with a rag. "This is innovation, Bo. Progress smells like failure at first."
Bo nodded solemnly. "So does soup."
Lucian ignored him.
The Craft System wasn't giving him recipes or instructions just... suggestions. He had to remember everything himself. Which was fine. Mostly. He'd watched five survival videos and had a passing knowledge of TikTok soap DIYs. That made him an expert now, right?
Step one: melt fat.
Step two: mix ash water to create a crude form of lye.
Step three: combine and stir until soap-like.
Step four: sell it for ten times the cost and fake a miracle.
"Alright," he muttered. "Bo, stir this while I fetch the floral essence."
"The what now?"
"The... uh... smell-good stuff. We're making luxury soap, not swamp stew."
Bo grabbed the wooden stick like he was about to go to war with the cauldron. "Do I fight the bubbles if they get too frothy?"
"…Sure, Bo. Kill the froth."
As Lucian disappeared into the broken manor's pantry which was just a broom closet with dreams someone cleared their throat behind him.
A short, round man stood at the entrance, chewing on what might've once been a carrot. His clothes were too fine for a peasant, too cheap for a noble. He looked like a man who lived between scams.
"Lucian Thorne?" he said, half bored, half amused.
Lucian squinted. "Depends. Are you here to collect debt or to buy something stupid?"
"Both," the man grinned. "Name's Bartholomew Quigg. Folks call me Bart. I do trade, logistics, and limited blackmail."
Lucian walked past him and grabbed a handful of dried herbs. "Great. I need a supplier, a rumor mill, and someone dumb enough to believe this is holy water."
Bart raised an eyebrow. "What is it actually?"
"Soap."
"…What's soap?"
Lucian's smile widened. "Exactly."
Ten minutes later, Bart was watching in horror as Bo lifted a sloshing bowl of half-cooked soap mixture like it was a newborn.
"Smells like my grandma's feet," Bart muttered.
"That means it's working," Lucian replied, pouring the mix into carved-out squash shells to mold them.
Prototype complete: "Rustic Cleansing Pods"
Bo held one up like a trophy. "Should I eat it?"
"Dear gods, no."
Bart sniffed it cautiously. "You're really planning to sell this stuff to... who? Farm folk?"
"No," Lucian said, already scribbling on parchment with a stick of coal. "To the faithful. The desperate. The nobility. People who'll pay a week's wages to feel superior."
He held up a crude poster that read:
"HOLY MIRACLE CLEANSING SPHERES"
As revealed to Lord Lucian in a divine dream
For the removal of evil spirits, grime, and unholy stench
Made with sacred mountain ash and blessed beast oils
Now accepting offerings: 1 silver per orb
Bart stared.
"…That's the ugliest marketing I've ever seen. You spelled 'sphere' wrong."
"I did it on purpose. Peasants can't read well. Nobles will think it's exotic."
"You're insane."
"And you're going to help me sell them."
By midday, Lucian stood at the estate gate, robed in a moth-eaten curtain he claimed was a "holy shroud." Bo rang a cowbell in slow, dramatic chimes. Sera, the maid/assassin/accountant, had finally arrived and was watching from the sidelines with a cup of tea and the world's most aggressive side-eye.
"Why am I not surprised," she muttered.
Lucian raised his arms. "My people! My flock! For too long, you have suffered! Dirt clings to your bodies like curses! But the gods have spoken to me"
"You fell down the stairs and hit your head," Sera called out.
"AND IN THAT DIVINE MOMENT," Lucian shouted louder, "I saw the light! A vision of sacred bubbles, and glorious hygiene! Behold!"
He tossed one of the soap pods into a bucket of water. It fizzed slightly, releasing a minty scent.
The peasants gasped.
"A witch's trick!" someone muttered.
"No," Lucian said solemnly. "A gift. From the goddess of purity. She told me, in my dream, 'Lucian, make the people clean.'"
Bo rang the bell. A kid cried. A man dropped to his knees.
"I wish to be clean, my lord!"
"Same here! My wife says I smell like horse!"
Lucian turned to Bart. "Set up the table. Sera, write down their names. Bo, make sure no one eats the product."
Sera rolled her eyes. "How much are you charging?"
"Trial price: one copper. First taste's free. Then we hike it to silver once word spreads."
"And if they realize it's just fat and ash?"
"We sell them scented water next."
By evening, Lucian sat in the half-collapsed manor hall, counting coins with a grin that could slice stone.
Total Sales: 42 copper
Peasant Feedback: "Smells weird but I like it"
System Note: Progress acceptable. Danger approaching.
Event Triggered: "Divine Authority Unamused"
A Church Inquisitor has heard rumors of heretical cleansing rituals in your estate.
Estimated Arrival: 2 Days
Lucian froze.
"…Of course," he whispered. "Of course the Church gets involved when someone finally tries to make money around here."
Bo looked up. "Are we at war with the gods now?"
"No," Lucian said slowly. "We're about to negotiate with them."
"Should I polish my sword or my prayer book?"
"Yes."
Lucian leaned back in his chair, lifted a coin to the candlelight, and smirked.
"This is just the beginning."
Outside, a shadowy figure on horseback watched the estate from the hills.
A priest in white robes.
With a noose tied to his saddle.