Heart of Alchemy

[Pahn]

Tap-tap. Lysander tapped his long-dried pen against his notes.

The meeting dragged on. Lysander had been here early too, hoping he would be able to give his report (No, nothing new. No new illnesses for him to cure despite the early arrival of winter. No, no new antidotes to any new poison. No, no new apprentices either. That's right, still no intention of taking in an apprentice. Yes, he was getting on with his years, Lord Foscari, but that did not mean he intended to take on anyone who believed themselves capable of becoming an alchemist.) and retire back to his study before it was too late in the day to eat his dinner warm. Alas — no such luck. Lysander was forced, as always, to sit in silence as his fellow council members nattered on about winter fashion, about the new recruits for the city guard, about the winter solstice ball preparations.

Tap-tap.

It's not that he disliked his position, quite the opposite. Lysander could not imagine a life outside the royal keep. These walls had kept him safe since he was a child, and he had no intention of…

Well. Wanderlust was not in his blood, but on occasion he did wonder what life might be if he lived closer to the coast. Not in the bowels of the city beneath the keep — no, he did not have such plebeian tastes. But rather he wondered what it might be like to live in a home all his own, where he might not need bother with entitled lordlings come to seek a cure to their diseased genitals or bold ladies who thought batting their eyelashes at him would secure them a chance at courting him.

So Lysander spent most of those council meetings daydreaming about being far, far from here. Far from people, far from Lord Foscari who had eyes too sharp for his own good. Far from obligations of taking on an apprentice or worse — a wife.

"Lord Blackburn?"

Tap-tap-tap.

The queen's chill voice brought him back to the present. His lips curled into a well-practised and polite smile, as though he'd been paying attention the whole time. This, too, was a skill well-honed over his years as the royal alchemist.

"Yes, your majesty?" Lysander looked to his left where Queen Ines Yornold sat. The knowing glint in her eyes made him twitch, but he kept a pleasant smile nonetheless.

"As Lady Petronelle was saying," Queen Ines spoke slowly as though Lysander were too thick to understand her (he wasn't, but he hadn't been paying attention, so this was likely warranted), "you have been the royal alchemist for over eight years now." She folded her hands atop the table and tilted her head at him. "We have given you quite a bit of leeway, Lord Blackburn. Royal council members are required to take on an apprentice for their position within five years of their appointment."

Lysander sent a scathing glare at Lady Petronelle, the royal ambassador who'd been pontificating about silk and other fashion nonsense minutes ago. This topic came up every year, and every year Lysander succeeded in pushing this silly requirement away.

"With all due respect, your majesty, Lady Petronelle," Lysander simpered — and oh, how he hated himself at that moment for having to do so — and gave a polite nod to each woman, "I simply do not have the time to train and—"

"Enough." Queen Ines knocked her knuckles against the table, silencing him. "You will make the time, Lord Blackburn, or you will be assigned an apprentice. You have one month to find a suitable young person, or this council will bring forth candidates and choose the best ones."

"Ones?" he repeated weakly.

"Of course." Next to the queen, King Leomer chuckled, looking entirely too amused at the situation. "Every council member has, on multiple occasions, taken on more than one apprentice at once. It is only fair that you do so as well."

Well, fuck. Lysander knew his father, who'd been the last royal alchemist, had never taken on another apprentice other than Lysander himself. But at his age, his father had already been married and Lysander had already been born. He, on the other hand, had no such guarantee lined up. He licked his lips and nodded numbly.

"Of course, your majesty. I will endeavour to find an apprentice before the end of the month."

"Excellent!" Queen Ines clapped her hands and smiled beatifically at them. "I will let our castellan know to expect an order of new livery with your colours soon."

Lysander fingered the alchemical symbol embroidered with deep purple thread on his breast. No one but him had worn purple around the keep in the last eight years. He did not relish in seeing anyone else with his livery and his colour roaming around the keep. But it couldn't be helped.

"Of course," he eventually murmured.

The meeting concluded after that, and they were free to escape back to their private lives. Most of the council members took their meals either in their private chambers, or in the dinner hall with the rest of the keep residents. Lysander could accompany them and try to play nice. He could disprove their gossip about him being an anti-social hermit. He could, he could.

Yet his feet carried him all the way to the south wing of the keep, where his study was. Meetings always exhausted him, and he needed a bit of time to himself to consider his options. What choice did he have, really? He would have to find an apprentice soon. A month! That was no proper time at all! He'd have to send notice to the local alchemists down in the city, and in the other major cities of the kingdom. What a pain. Then he'd have to meet dozens of hopeful candidates, who would all fail the basic tests, he knew. Even finding someone who knew how to read was a challenge, these days!

Distracted with his spiralling thoughts, Lysander did not notice he'd forgotten to close the window of his study, or forgotten to lock the door (again). He entered his study with a frown and muttering to himself, and lit the lamps around his desk. Perhaps it was the sense of danger, some part of his mind that recoiled at the sensation that he was not alone that alerted him to the other presence in his office. Perhaps it was just paranoia. Or perhaps it was the distinct stench he associated with those who lived in the deep bowels of the city.

"Who's there?" he gasped, his athame in his hand before he could fully understand the situation.

 

[Karo]

It was a cold winter night. The sky was pitch black, no moon to illuminate it, its stars obscured by clouds. In this dark cover, a figure crept along the walls of the royal keep. The figure moved deftly, expertly navigating around guards until it had reached a large, ornate window. With a small grunt, the figure forced the window open before hoisting itself through the opening.

The room was pitch black until, with the strike of a match, a small flame flickered to life, casting light on the face of the thief. The flame revealed a young woman, face dirty and hair loose and unruly. She had the unmistakable look of a gutter rat, one of the poor who scraped by in the dark underbelly of the city. Her eyes darted around the room, on the hunt for something in particular. They locked onto a large wooden bookshelf that housed hundred of small bottles and vials.

Her eyes quickly scanned the labels on the bottles, searching for healing elixirs and love potions. Those sold for good money on the black market; there were never-ending ailments to cure and plenty of desperate men and women willing to do anything to find true love. Finally, she landed on an assortment of light blue and green bottles with the words "healing" on them.

Jackpot.

Eryn quickly began to fill her bag, carefully nestling the bottles in to avoid breaking them. Then, she heard it. Footsteps, coming quickly in her direction.

Quickly, she ducked behind a settee. Only moments later, a man entered. Lamp by lamp, the room was quickly illuminated, revealing the door and the window. Eryn's eyes flickered between the two, trying to gauge an escape plan.

If she were to pull this off, she'd just need to wait for the man to leave again. Then she'd sneak out the window, past the guards, and back out by the servant's bathhouse. She just needed to wait.

"Who's there?"

Well, shit. Time for plan B.

Slowly, Eryn reached for her dagger. But as she did, a bottle tipped out of her bag and crashed down to the floor, making a loud smashing sound as it split into little pieces.

Fuck.

 

[Pahn]

Lysander pivoted on the spot to face the settee. Bottles didn't crash on their own. Dozens of scenarios whirled through his mind. An assassin? An over-enthusiastic would-be apprentice? A maid? A cat? Carefully, he firmed his grip on his athame — the knife sharp enough to cut ingredients into fine slices, but he would rather not have to use it to stab someone. He took a few steps closer to the settee.

The pull-bell was next to the door, too far for him to reach from here. Besides, what would calling a servant do besides bruise his pride further? Lysander squared his jaw and stood taller. He had no desire to die, but he wouldn't be cowed. Unless it was an assassin — which, well. Considering his position, it wasn't entirely unexpected.

"Who's there? Show yourself! What are you doing here? What do you want?" he demanded, his eyes struggling to make out the shape of whoever (or whatever) was behind the settee. Even with most of the lamps now lit, it was hard to see in the low light.

Then he saw the open window. Foolish, foolish, he quietly berated himself.

 

[Karo]

Eryn cursed herself. The chances of escaping were much lower now. Her only chance of getting out of this was to talk the man down. She slipped her dagger back into its sheath and slowly rose from behind the settee, hands raised.

Now able to see her pursuer, Eryn studied him closely. He looked older than her, but not ancient; no, his face was young, though his hair was stark white. In his hand, he held a long blade, much larger than her measly dagger. She was glad she had chosen to put it away.

"I don't mean you any harm," she said calmly. Her mind was racing as she thought of a lie, but her face was that of perfect stoicism. She had long learned how to hide her fear, a skill that came in handy more times than she could count.

"I'm just here to get some medicine for my mother. Let me go and you'll never see me again, I swear."

 

[Pahn]

"Medicine?" Lysander exclaimed in disbelief, caught off guard. "Do you know where you are, girl?"

Seeing the girl had both hands up and that she appeared to be unarmed, he stepped closer and blocked the way between the settee and the open window. Without lowering his athame, he glanced down at the ground where a potion had fallen from the thief's bag. His nose, fine and trained to recognise every herb and every alchemical ingredient, twitched as he sniffed intently.

This was no medicinal potion. Besides, why would a thief come to steal medicine from the royal alchemist when there were much easier targets down in the city? Lysander scowled and glowered at the girl.

"Lying, then?" Lysander tilted his head, and studied the girl. "Who sent you? And more importantly…" He took another step closer to her. "How do you plan to repay me for the hours of work you've just destroyed?" he asked, voice low and threatening.

 

[Karo]

Eryn's heart dropped as the man blocked her escape path. Her eyes flickered to the door and she quickly assessed her chances of escape. Even if she could vault the settee and get out the door before the man caught her, the royal keep was filled to the brim with guards. She wouldn't get twenty yards before she'd be apprehended. Her only choice was to keep talking.

"No one sent me. I swear, I'm not lying. I can't tell these bottles apart, I can barely read!" she exclaimed, lying through her teeth.

She took a step back, intimidated by the athame in the man's hand. Fear struck her heart like an arrow as he spoke, his tone threatening.
She knew she couldn't repay him for the broken potion, but if she could convince him that she was able to…

"I'll pay you back, I promise. Just give me a week and I'll pay it."

 

[Pahn]

Lysander tutted and shook his head.

"Yet again, you lie," he hissed. Perhaps she was naught but a child? She looked young enough to not be of age yet, but her wild hair and filthy clothes could hide a lot. He knew some beggars could look either much younger or much older than they actually were, he'd seen it.

But Lysander's heart was a cold one, and he found very little pity to offer her.

"If you could pay me back, you would not be stealing to begin with. If you could not read, you would not have filled your bag with expensive potions." He sighed, weary already and wishing to be done with this nonsense. "I do not care for coin. I care for the labour, the time it takes to brew these potions you've stashed in your bag, and the one you've destroyed."

He studied her again. What could she offer him that he could not obtain himself? Lysander shook his head.

"Potions only work on those with inner magical abilities, girl. I am loath to imagine someone like you has any sort of ability."

 

[Karo]

Eryn couldn't help but scowl at his tone as the man insinuated she was too low to have magical ability. He was right, of course. After all, if she had any abilities she wouldn't be living in a hovel, stealing to survive.

Still, something about his insinuation, that she was lesser than him, made her see red with rage.

"You don't know that," she spat back. She surveyed the man's face, noticing the scar on his cheek. "I probably have more abilities than you do. Otherwise, you would have healed that long ago," she seethed, gesturing to her face.

 

[Pahn]

A shiver of dread raced down Lysander's spine. No one knows, he reminded himself. But his heart was in his throat, and his feet moved without his knowledge. The audacity of this gutter rat, this thief—

"Careful what you say, now," he said in a low voice, his earlier weariness gone. "Do you know, girl," he continued, blindly but knowingly reaching to a high shelf behind the settee, "that some potions are very, very toxic for those without magical abilities?" Lysander plucked a vial, sealed with black wax.

He brought it to his face at eye level and shook it lightly, and spared it a glance to confirm its consistency.

"Most potions are inert if your body cannot transform the magic. Simple alchemy, really." He uncorked the vial and sniffed it. "Then, some potions are simply bad for you. Stomach ache, cramps, the works."

Lysander raised a brow, and smirked meanly, knowing full well how it pulled on his scar to make him look quite terrible indeed.

"And there are a few, however, that are... well." He offered her the vial with one hand, the other one still holding his knife close and ready in case she tried anything foolish. "Drink it."

 

[Karo]

Eryn looked between the man and the vial he held before her. His face was that of pure wickedness and she knew that vial contained something horrible, if not deadly.

Panicked, her facade had completely fallen. Fear coursed through her like a cornered animal.

"I'm not drinking that!" She exclaimed in dismay, hand itching to reach for her dagger. The man's own blade kept it raised, something that scared her even more.

Shamefully, she only had one last resort.

Begging.

"Please, no, I'm sorry. Please just let me go," she pleaded, words catching in her throat. "I'll do anything else, please."

 

[Pahn]

"You have a choice," Lysander said, as casual as anything, though his mean little smile hadn't abated. "You either drink this potion, or I call the guards. If you're lucky, you'll be hanged. If the guards are in a foul mood, they'll take your hands."

He inched the uncorked potion closer, holding it firmly enough that the girl wouldn't be able to knock it out of his hand. He had no doubt that once she took the potion, she'd pass out from the toxicity of it — for a gutter rat like her simply could not have innate magical abilities — and he would be free to toss out into the servant quarters to be dealt with. He cared very little for her fate.

"What will it be, girl? Death or…?" He swirled the vial lightly.

 

[Karo]

Eryn knew if she were turned over to the guards she would face a fate worse than death. Unfortunately, she was acutely aware that when their victim was a young woman, they took more than hands or life. She had no choice but to drink the potion.

Hatred settled over her like a thick fog. She hated the man and his stupid vial more than she'd ever hated anyone or anything in her life.

With a shaky breath, she took the vial from him. Her eyes met his in enmity as she stared him down before finally bringing the bottle to her lips, her hand trembling.

The liquid smelt harsh and acidic, like poison. Without breaking eye contact, Eryn tipped the bottle up, allowing the sour liquid to go down her throat.

She braced herself, expecting to feel some sort of effect from the potion. But instead, she felt nothing.

That was until she felt her body slowly being lifted from the ground. She cried out in alarm as she rose higher and higher until her head grazed the vaulted ceiling.

"What the hell!" she exclaimed, looking down at the man. She couldn't make sense of it. Surely this was supposed to happen, then… what, she'd explode? Come crashing down to the floor of the study?

Or maybe, maybe it had worked after all? Maybe she really did possess some magical ability.

Eryn had no idea. All she knew was that she wanted to be back on the ground.

"Okay old man, I don't know what game you're playing, but you better let me down, now!"

 

[Pahn]

The girl's hateful glare sent a shiver down Lysander's spine. Perhaps he'd pushed too far, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. In a moment she would pass out or choke or spew the potion, and he would—

He would…

"What?!"

Lysander looked up at the floating girl, the girl on whom his highly complex potion had worked perfectly. There had been, what, less than a minute between swallowing and floating? It was impossible. Impossible! A gutter rat, a thief in rags, a stupid little girl was this powerful?

A mix of anger and hatred churned in his stomach and filled his chest. Lysander never ascribed fairness to the world, but this was the biggest treachery in the world.

Then he caught the girl's expression.

"You did not know," he breathed out. Was he relieved, or furious? Maybe a bit of both. "Well, girl, seems like I might have a use for you after all." He smirked up at her without any warmth or sympathy. He itched to put this impromptu experiment in his journal, but he couldn't have a panicked subject floating around his office.

"This is a No-Weight Float elixir. Congratulations," he drawled, sitting on the settee and crossing his legs comfortably. Maybe if he appeared calm and non-threatening, she would behave. The anger and hatred simmered still in his stomach, but his mind was conjuring plans and possibilities already. "You are a sorceress."

 

[Karo]

Eryn laughed in disbelief. She was a sorceress? How? She didn't know of anyone in her family having magical abilities– if they did, they wouldn't have been breaking their backs just to survive.

A flurry of emotions swirled through her head, but one stood out amongst the others: righteousness.

"Hah, how does it feel to be proven wrong?" She asked tauntingly. Her newfound sorcery meant a slew of different things, but most importantly, it meant this man who she despised was incorrect. She couldn't help but lord it over him and floating up high, out of his reach, she felt emboldened.

 

[Pahn]

Lysander continued to watch the girl. Indeed, he'd been proven wrong, and more than anything else he felt a strong surge of envy. How was it that a gutter rat like this one had innate magical abilities, and he — the latest in a long line of gifted alchemists and sorcerers — found himself without a drop of it? Lysander had always known there was no true justice or fairness in the world, but this one was a particularly low blow.

He exhaled loudly and stood to go close (and lock) the window. Leaning next to it, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You have a choice, girl," he began, measuring his words. He couldn't let her see how affected he was by it. No one knew he didn't have any magical abilities, and he intended on keeping it that way. But… if he were to continue outdoing himself with his alchemy, he needed someone to test potions for him. And this girl would serve very well as an apprentice. A bit of a middle finger in the face of all those over-confident lords and ladies who'd been trying to pawn off their children and relatives onto him.

"The effects of the potion will last about ten minutes, so you have time to decide." He smiled, but it wasn't a kind or nice smile at all. "Then I can either bring you to the guards for attempted theft, or…" he trailed off, and cocked his head to the side. "Or, you enlist as my apprentice."

 

[Karo]

Eryn's eyes followed the man as he went to lock the window, kicking herself for not leaving when she had the chance. Of course, she had no idea just how high she'd float in open air– maybe leaving was never truly an option.

As the man presented his ultimatum, Eryn felt her stomach turn. Surely her only options weren't execution or what was essentially servitude to this wicked man. She'd known many apprentices (the baker's apprentice, for instance, would often slip her burnt loaves of bread at the end of the day in exchange for stolen goods) and their working conditions were poor, sometimes even worse than her own. Their masters would overwork and under-provide for them, something she was certain would be the case with this man. Working under his scrutinizing eye would be hell, she was sure of it.

Why did he even want her as his apprentice? Sure, she apparently had magical abilities, but surely there were others with these same abilities. The two despised each other and he clearly thought lowly of her.

"Why me?" she asked, looking at him intently. "I imagine you have plenty of hopefuls to choose from, so why me?"

 

[Pahn]

"Of course I do," Lysander retorted with a mirthless laugh. "I am the royal alchemist, girl. I could have the pick of the crop, if I so wished."

Lysander wasn't the type to lie outright when he could avoid it, so he decided to be forthright about some of his reasons.

"But these sons, daughters, nieces, and nephews come with… strings attached, let us say." He sighed. "I do not wish to have their family members breathing down my neck, asking me why this or why that. And I cannot trust them not to reveal secrets that no non-alchemist should know."

Pushing himself off the wall, Lysander slowly paced his office and gestured with his hands as he spoke.

"Alchemy is not politics, girl. But these hopeful apprentices carry court politics on their shoulders like a well-worn cloak, and I will not have it. I refuse." He finally looked up at her. "Which makes you a particularly interesting individual. I doubt there is a lord or lady awaiting your return. Indeed, I doubt there is anyone waiting for your return at all."

 

[Karo]

Eryn shook her head. "Again, you're wrong. My family must be wondering where I am right now."

She was telling the truth. Her siblings had begged her not to go to the royal keep, fearing she'd get caught. If only she'd listened. She knew by now they must be worried sick.

Guilt consumed her. Of course, she thought she was invincible, that she'd get in and out just fine. And now, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The best choice was obvious; she had no intention of dying any time soon. Still, she loathed this man and couldn't imagine having to spend each day of the foreseeable future under his watchful eye.

She was silent for a moment, trying to think of a third option. Unfortunately for her, she found none.

With a sigh, she finally gave her answer.

"I'll be your apprentice." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "I just want to see my family again. They should know my decision."

 

[Pahn]

He sneered. "And have you leave the keep? I think not."

Lysander walked to his desk and sat down as he pulled a piece of parchment. Once his dipped his pen into an ink pot, he began drafting a request to the castellan. This had gone better than he'd hoped, but there was still much to do. The girl would need lodgings, clothes, and everything else a young woman might need.

Just as he was about to sign off the letter, he paused. Right.

"What is your full name, and your age?" he asked. "You will be living in the keep going forward. Once I can trust that you will not attempt to flee back and renege your duties to me, I will allow you to visit your family."

There was more to talk about, of course. Like the monetary compensation, the allowance that all apprentices were expected to receive when working for a master. He knew not every master respected the king's laws about apprenticeship, but Lysander saw no reason to deny the girl her legally-earned coin. A small part of him, though, convinced the rest that he could withhold such conversations until later. Until he had proper control over her, and be sure that she wouldn't flee at the first opportunity.

 

[Karo]

Eryn scowled at his response, but she wasn't surprised. He was right to be wary– she would have run for the hills the moment she was out of his sight. Still, his cruelty was not lost on her. Her eyes bore holes into him as he walked to his desk, wishing her hatred alone would cause him to drop dead. Alas, she had no such luck.

"My name is Eryn Lessinger," she answered, her tone short. "I'm twenty-four."

As she gave her answer, she felt the familiar tug of gravity pulling on her and slowly, she began to float down to the ground. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her head snapped to the locked window. There was no way she could unlock it and get out in time before he'd catch her. She'd have to resign herself to her fate.

"If you know my name, I should know yours." She crossed her arms. "So, what is it?"