Aranoa Soli: Alchemist Extraordinare (Part 1)

The first thing I remember about Mama is her hands. 

They were always stained.

Blue from crushed flowers, red from strange powders, black from soot. Sometimes all three at once. She would hold up her hands after a long day in the atelier, and looking at them with a troubled sigh.

Then Papa would laugh.

"You look like a flowerpot."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

"Mmh, maybe both."

"Normal husbands would just say it's a good thing."

"You know I'm not normal."

"Fair enough."

Their exchanges were weird like this. Always some sort of banter between them, always a snarky comment. But I could tell they loved each other.

"Besides, little Noa would agree that Mama's hands are pretty, right?"

And I could tell they loved me.

I was still young back then. Well, younger than I am now. Just a wee little Feline, babbling and giggling at my parents shenanigans. They would often have me just sit with them as I watched them do their work, whether that be just fiddling with things they would find out in the world, or humming a tune while they toss ingredients into a cauldron.

Little me loved seeing all the colors swirl around in the cauldron. I used to wanna drink the liquid inside because it looked like it tasted good, but Mama wouldn't let me too near it. She didn't wanna risk a baby diving into a boiling cauldron, after all.

I loved watching them use their magic, too. Watering plants with little rain clouds they summon, making swings and stuff out of roots, and all sorts of things I saw them make. Mama and Papa were strong, but I always liked the fun magic they used.

Of course, it wasn't just their alchemy or their magic that I remember. It was the little things too.

My seventh birthday where we went to the lake and swam all the way to the bottom to write our names on the rock, and coming up to find that my cake was stolen by Kobats. I cried for a long time until Papa made me a new one that was twice the size of the old one.

And when I got my first staff, Mama wove it from the magical tree outside our house. Both of them taught me the magic I know, and even though it was hard, I loved every second of it. As long as I was with them, anything was fun.

I remember the sound of laughter once filling our house once.

But now it's—

Unnnnn...

"Eh!?"

The whole atelier shook. My chair slid backwards, books toppling from shelves and bottles rattled in their holder. A stack of notes I had spent hours earlier perfectly organizing flew off my table, causing each individual sheet to flutter around and fly everywhere.

"Woah woah woah!!" I just barely caught myself on the edge of my bed (which was luckily bolted down to the ground) before I could smack face first into the wall.

I blink. Once, twice, then—

"C-Charles!?" I shout.

The giant turtle gave another low hum as the atelier shook once more. I nearly fall off my chair as another pile of papers falls directly onto my face. I can just barely read my name written in ink on one sheet, and—

Oh, silly me! I completely forgot to introduce myself this entire time. Who wants to hear a backstory of a person they don't even know?

Okay, okay, okay...ahem ahem!

Hail, hello, and happy day! My name is Aranoa Soli, and I'm the greatest Feline alchemist you'll meet! At only the budding age of fourteen, some would already consider me a master alchemist! Of course, I've learned everything I know from Mama and Papa, but I learned a lot of it on my own. Mama always said I was a quick learner, and I agree with her!

Anyways, let's see...uhm, I like cooking, tending to plants, and swinging from the big tree outside the house! I also like cool breezes, orange juice, and Charles!

Charles is the giant turtle I'm standing on, by the way. The top of his shell is where the atelier sits atop of, and is basically a walking, humming home. He's been with me since I was little, and was even there when my parents were little too! He's very sweet and likes fish, but sometimes he teases me by tilting his body back and forth, so he's mean sometimes.

I can never get mad at him though.

Anyways, where was I? Oh right.

I slowly pull the sheet of paper away, sputtering as I toss it to the side.

Charles hummed again.

"Don't 'hmm' me! You almost flipped the entire atelier!" I scold, standing up with a pout. "What's going on?"

Charles hums again, and I hear the stomping of his feet on the ground.

"Something out there?" I ask as I hurry to slip into my cloak. I quickly toss it over my shoulders, the thick fabric laying snugly above my blouse.

I briefly check myself in the mirror. An amazing, adorable girl with short black hair and gorgeous aqua eyes stares back at me. I click my tongue at my own reflection, pointing finger guns at it. The girl in the mirror does the same.

"Looking good, Aranoa!" I smile before bouncing off out of my room—not without grabbing my hat!

I slide the hat over my head, holding it with one hand as I weave through toppled chairs and tables that have skidded to a place they weren't before. Gotta get a lotta cleaning done later...

I make a mental note of the mess before I push past the front door and into the air outside. It's midday, and the blazing sun hangs high, half hidden behind clouds. It's a beautiful day outside. The sky is its usual blue with big, white, fluffy clouds spread throughout. Creatures of all kinds fly in the distance—packs of dragons, seagulls circling above an unseen shore in the distance. It would've been a nice day to tend to the garden...

But someone had to make a mess.

"Alright, big guy, what's the big deal?" I call out, hands on my hip. "It had better be something good!"

He hums lowly once more, coupled with a slight stomp. He seems to want me to look at something.

"What is it?" Humming, I run to the outer border of the atelier's garden, where a small wall made of roots acts as a barrier so things don't just slide off Charles' shell—not that they would. Almost all of the surface of Charles' shell is grass, dirt, and stone. He's like a walking landmass, basically!

As I get close, I wiggle my fingers towards the roots.

"Bloom." My magic sparkles at my fingertips, and the roots wiggle and unlink as they make a small platform for me to stand on. I hop onto it and it lifts me to the very top of the wall, giving me a good view of the both past his shell and his head, which was turned to the right. His big, beady eye greets me.

"Okay, now show me what it is that's got you so worked up!" I exclaim, pointing at him.

He turns his head forward once again and lifts his front right leg, waving it for me to see.

"Hmm?" I move the roots further out so I can get a closer look. "I don't see anything wrong with your foot—oh?"

What Charles was pointing out wasn't his actual foot, but what was near it.

A carriage—a guild merchant's, based on the small banner of a golden coin purse hanging off the side—sits still a few ten or so meters from Charles' leg, the two land hippocampi pulling the carriage out front letting out exasperated whinnies as they smack at the ground with their front hooves, unmoving.

"Hmm? This isn't even a main road...why is this here?" I say to myself, scratching at my chin.

If there's a carriage and horses here, where is the owner?

"Uhm, helloooo?" I yell from my root platform, leaning down. "Anybody there!?"

...Nothing.

"I swear I'm friendly! How can you hear this voice and not—"

"A-Are you sure you're friendly!?" says a panicked voice from inside.

There they are.

"Yeah!" I answer back.

"How can I trust you?!" the voice says. It's distinctly masculine, but with a slight drawl to it. "W-W-What if you're some sort of con-artist!?"

"I dunno about that. Smack in the middle of the Saltrock Plains?"

"This sorta place are prime hunting grounds for con-artists! They find helpless merchants wandering around, lure them with the false sense of assistance and safety, and then kidnap them and dissect them to be made into homunculi!"

"Uhh, what?"

This guy is crazy.

"You heard me!" he insists.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever! What's going on with your carriage, mister?"

"Why should I tell you?!"

This guy.

"So in the hypothetical case that I'm not a murderous con-artist, maybe I can help you?"

"I told you, why would I ever trust you—"

"Or you can stay here and starve!" I shout. I'm already losing patience with this guy. "You know, you won't survive much longer here without food."

A moment. Then, his voice comes out higher pitched ."H-How did you know!? Are you stalking me!?"

"Oh my—your wheels!" I yell. I'm already losing my patience with this guy. "Your wheels have mud stains on them, and a lot of it. You've been traveling for maybe a week, give or take, and you haven't seen a single civilization in nearly a day, yeah?"

No answer.

"Which means," I continue, "since the closest city is hours and hours away even on this guy, I'm guessing you're on your last pack of rations."

No answer yet again.

"Well?"

Silence hangs over us for a long minute, the only sounds filling it are the rustling of leaves from the tree near the atelier, the whinnies and snorts of the horses, and Charles' soft breathing.

Then, a head pops out. It's a middle-aged Deerkin man, with shaggy brown hair and narrowed gray eyes. He looks around, his ears swinging with his head, before he shouts back at me.

"Are you sure I can trust you?"

"I doubt a fourteen-year-old would do anything bad to you, mister."

"So you're just a kid..." he sighs. He steps out of the carriage, and I get a full view of his attire. He's wearing a simple tunic with a purple scarf embroidered with gold—the same colors as the banner.

"Yep," I smile, tilting my head innocently.

"If you can help me get these beasts under control, then I'd be happy to repay you with a discount," says the merchant as he walks up to the hippocampi and giving one a light smack on the back, which causes it to huff indignantly.

He then eyes Charles up and down, who only slowly blinks at the Deerkin. "A-And make sure this fella doesn't squish me or anything..."

"Don't worry," I assure as I make the roots carry me to Charles' head. "He's a bit softie. Isn't that right, boy?"

The turtle lets out a low hum in agreement, nodding.

"Hehe." I drop down onto Charles' head, feeling his skin beneath my boots. He lowers his head, and I slide down it before landing on the grass below.

The merchant flinches slightly as I plop down next to him, but he composes quickly with a professional smile.

"Is it just you out here, little girl?" He asks.

"Yeah, pretty much." I nod as I approach the hippocampi. "Why?"

"Nothing. It's not too unusual for youngins like yourself to be traveling on their own, but you seem to have a very well kept house up there."

He points up to the atelier.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. That's my atelier! It's where I do my alchemy."

"You're an alchemist?"

"Mhm!" I say as I rub the head of one of the hippocampus. I reach into the bag slung around my torso, pulling out a fresh apple I picked not too long ago. I hold it up to the creature, and it excitedly grabs the whole thing with its mouth, chomping on it. The other hippocampus smacks its nose into its companion's side.

Share, I can almost hear it grunting.

"Interesting. Alchemy is no easy feat. You must be quite talented for your age," the merchant says as he watches the hippocampi argue over an apple.

"Mmm, I'd say I'm pretty good~" I giggle, patting the creatures on the head. 

"How long have you lived here?" he asks as he approaches me, kneeling down and trying to pat the hippocampi as well. They huff at him.

"My whole life. I've only ever been to the western shoreline and forest outside of the Plains, but that's really it."

"I see."

I peek at the hippocampus's body. "Hmm...these guys are a little on the thinner side. Have you been feeding them properly?"

"Uh, I'd say the normal amount. Oatmeal packs every now and then."

"Well how long's every now and then?"

He tilts his head. "Once a day?"

"Wha—no no no! That's horrible!" I exclaim with a pout, my tails swiping behind me. "Only once a day!?"

"Woah, hey! That's what the guy who sold them to me said!" the merchant insists, raising his hands in front of him.

"That's so cruel!"

"Well they seemed to be doing fine until just earlier, when they decided to just drag me off the road and into the middle of nowhere!"

Middle of nowhere was pretty accurate. The Saltrock Plains are massive, with very, very little to do here. Around 75 million square kiloflicks of just grass, fields, and the occasional saltrock formation (hence the name), the most notable feature of the area besides its size was a lake towards the west end, the only places I've been to and the main source of my ingredients for alchemy.

"Of course they'd be all angry and thin and stuff, they're hungry!" I point an accusatory finger at the merchant, who flinches. "Who're the people that sold them to you!? They don't seem very nice at all!"

"I dunno! Really!" He shouts, shaking his head vigorously. "They were some...shady looking people I saw at the Xande!"

"Xande? What's Xande?" I murmur, ears flicking with curiosity. I've never heard of such a place. What a strange name, too. "The only settlement I know of is the village of Kho'si near the forest."

"You...don't know Xande?" The merchant almost gasps. "How?"

I shrug. "It's not marked on the map I have."

"Must be some crappy map—"

"Hey!"

"Sorry."

"Okay, here's the deal," I say, clearing my throat. "I can have you hitch a ride on Charles here and we can get you back to this Xande place or whatever."

I jut my thumb back at the big turtle.

"And when we get there, you're gonna show me where those people who sold you these guys so I can give 'em a piece of my mind!"

"Piece of your mind? Like, beat them up?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"By beating them up?"

"No—I meant how are you planning to do that?" He questions, crossing his arms. "No offense, but you don't look like the most physically fit kid."

"I know magic! I'm a good mage, too!" I say with a stomp of my foot, tails shooting straight up. "Yes or no, it's a yes or no question! Do you want me to take you back to the Xande place!?"

"Okay! Jeez! For such a young girl, you sure are pushy!"

"See? That was easy."

The merchant sighs before walking back to the carriage. He opens it up and reaches inside, grabbing a backpack and slinging it over his shoulders.

"So how are you planning to get the carriage up? Levitation magic isn't exactly too common."

"Oh, the big guy's got that covered." I nod with a smile, before pointing at Charles. "Take it away, boy!"

The big turtle, who was looking at a flock of birds pass by overhead, turns back, opening his mouth. He takes a deep breath in, before—

Fooo!

He blows gently towards the carriage, a verdant wind encircling both it and the creatures pulling it. With a slight tilt of his head, Charles lifts the carriage and the hippocampi with the wind and up onto his back, somewhere on the outer edges of the atelier's yard. I hear the wheels of the carriage touch down onto grass, as well as huffing and the thudding of hooves on dirt. The wind dissipates as Charles closes his mouth.

"Thanks, big guy," I giggle, running up to the turtle and giving him a few pats on the cheek.

"Huh." The merchant can only grunt in response to the sight. "Well, not the strangest thing I've seen in my travels."

"Cool, right? Anyways, come on up," I say as I leap onto Charles' head, climbing up the side and settling at the top. "Or do you need help?"

"I'm not immobile, you know..." the merchant croaked as he shifts his bag, crouching momentarily before jumping onto Charles' head, gripping tightly onto the slight bumps scattered throughout the turtle's skin. He grunts laboriously each time he takes a step up, before eventually making it to where I'm sitting.

I smile at him. "Good?"

"Yeah yeah," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Felines and their agility..."

"Hehe, I got hops, don't I?"

"Sure."

"Anywho, come with me!" I exclaim, skipping towards the root wall. With a tap of my finger, I open up an entrance, big enough for the merchant to duck under.

"Alright." He says as he follows close behind.

Stepping through the root wall, we come across the outer parts of the garden outside the atelier. Flowers and plants of different kinds line tilled dirt in an assortment of colors.

As we pass, the merchant whistles.

"Nice thing you have going on here."

"Thanks! I'm pretty proud of my gardening skills, too." I say smugly, twirling.

"Are those Foxgloves?" he asks, pointing at a tall plant with clusters of colorful, finger-shaped flowers.

"Yeah, the non-poisonous ones at least. They make a great base for disinfectants."

He hums approvingly before turning back front.

We soon arrive at the foot of the atelier's front entrance, as the dirt path is replaced by carved stone leading to the porch. Pale stone walls and a crooked wooden roof, with vines climbing up the windows and Bluebell, my favorite flowers, growing along the path towards the door. A small chimney puffed gentle smoke into the air, and several shelves and worktables could be seen through the wide windows at the side.

It's not the flashiest, but it is the coziest atelier out there!

Which makes me wonder. The merchant mentioned Xande, but I still don't exactly know what it is. Is it a big city? Do they have super big buildings made out of pure marble?!

I've only heard stories about the big cities from Mama and Papa from when they traveled to and from places before I was born. They told me all sorts of stuff about the places beyond the plains.

It's been seven years now since they disappeared. I...don't remember much about that day. All I remember were the sad looks in their faces as they told me they were going to search for the Philosopher's Stone. They left...and never came back.

Now all I have to remember them is my hat and a wooden charm I use to tie my hair. I take them everywhere with me, because I'm afraid that if I don't, I'll forget about them.

It's been seven years.

I still miss them.