Lord Albrek

Dozens of scents were trapped in the stone walls of a round room. Bitter and sour and sweet they would dance on the tip of your nose teasing, never letting you catch one. They soaked into the vibrant cushions which lay on an enormous bed, suited for only a noble kind it seemed, into the heavy curtains on the window which showed the castle's courtyard and the Black Lake District beyond it and into the robes of a man who stood in front of a sophisticated distillation apparatus. Both of his hands held vials. His eyes rushed to a machine wall clock then back to the bubbling brewing. The tension of the scene was almost tangible. So much in fact that one could easily miss a very odd detail.
A rat sat patiently on the table as focused as its master. It held the third vial waiting for its time. The contents of the first vial went straight into the tube followed by the second one. The rat stretched out its tiny hands. The man grabbed the third vial and poured it into the transparent cup that contained the final product of the distillation. The colour of the substance brightened causing the man to inhale nervously. Then it went dim, almost translucent, almost invisible. He slowly exhaled, still watching the cup. One final drop fell from the tube and a moment later the liquid turned into a black goo. The man looked at it his mouth twitching as though the words were fighting for privacy each worse than another. He took a heavy tomb and smashed it right onto of the rat.
“Dammit!” He shouted.
Not even a squeak came from under the tomb. The dead broken rodent sparkled with weak unnatural shining and dissolved into nothingness. Tomorrow he’ll summon another one. The man fell heavily into the chair and took his gloves off. He cast a simple cantrip and a floating hand started to clean the mess on the table. Another 100 gold worth of gear and ingredients wasted. Only now he realised somebody was knocking on the door for about a minute. It was a servant girl who came carrying a tray with a teapot, a cup and a piece of apple pie.
“This is also for you Lord Albrek” She said.
She held out a bundle. Albrek unfolded it. A sturdy little box was made out of a material that resembled wood but was something else for sure. Into its black surface was encased a silver wire that composed a spider web pattern. With a few clicks, he opened the box that concealed a dozen tiny vials. Each secured in its own cell. Albrek’s eyes glimmered with almost childish sparks. What he looked at was one of the rarest substances on the surface of Faerun. Less so, but still rare under its surface. How hard was it to get something like this for a Drow he wondered. Hell, this very substance could have very well been fermented and enchanted by the very wizards of sorcery in Menzobarranzan. It will serve him as a catalyst for unseen efficiency and will accelerate his work significantly. Albrek wondered how much paperwork he would have been forced to go through if he tried to get something of this scale legally through his The Lords' Alliance connections. He got so excited that an obvious question came late.
“Wait, how did you... Aw, it is you isn’t it?” He stammered
The girl's face changed its shape, becoming a grotesque travesty of a human. A moment later Albrek looked at himself as if it was a mirror.
“Hello, Larno” It said “Don’t you dare use my face you filthy abomination!” Albrek growled
The creature laughed and walked imposingly to a far cabinet. When he turned around with a glass of black ice wine it looked like a beautiful Drow woman.
“Is this better?” She bit her lip.
Larno shoved the box closed and put in carefully in a draw of his desk.
“Is this a joke to you? Do you have any idea what risk I am putting myself at?” Larno exclaimed
The Drow walked close and sat on the table, putting the glass nearby.
“Of course” She leaned forward. Her breath smelt like wine. “Of course I know. But, its worth it, isn’t it?”