Edifying

That evening, I wasted no time in attempting to perform the Infusion as described by Kyn. I chose the very first potion listed in the book assuming it would be the easiest. Apparently, if successful, it made dim light emanate from the drinker’s skin for a few marks of time. The book also praised how forgiving it was if messed up, stating that a failure is more forgiving than practically any alchemical creation, with worst symptoms only including severe stomach pains for three weeks.

That didn’t sound all that forgiving to me, but I had to try something eventually. I mixed the ingredients listed in under 30 minutes. They were easy to find around the laboratory since everything was very well labeled. That complete, I came to the final step according to the book: perform an Infusion.

I took a deep breath. I was confident that I was awakened, or, at least, this body was, but I was still fuzzy on the mechanics of Infusion. I somehow needed to put willpower into the brew.

I tried to concentrate on the mixture. Nothing happened. I concentrated harder; nothing. I stared so hard that my eyes began to water, but I still didn’t see anything. No, I needed to Infuse. That word meant to put something in. My willpower, the desire from the alchemist to make an effect happen. In this case, to give these mundane ingredients a spectacular effect...I focused my mind on this desire and pushed it into the mixture.

Immediately, I felt something leave me. I felt just a tiny bit more tired, like I had just finished lifting a moderately heavy weight. And the potion glowed slightly for a moment. When the light disappeared, the potion was a cool blue color.

Time to try it, I suppose. Without hesitation, I drank the whole thing. It tasted unusual but not unpleasant. Immediately, my hands began glowing faintly, about as brightly as a bunch of glowsticks.

Kyn glanced over at me, having just finished his alchemy for the day and preparing to put things away. “Are you having fun with the basics, master?” he said.

Still high on the rush of my first successful piece of alchemy, I replied “ah, this appears simple to you? I see, I see...” I made a knowing smile, implying I knew much more than I was letting on. Kyn looked doubtfully at my glowing hands, then back at my expression before shrugging and returning to his cleanup.

Some amount of time passed as I relentlessly practiced my newfound alchemy skills. It was at least a week, but I hadn’t kept track closely and all days in this lifestyle blended together. Kyn was diligent, although even I noticed that his progress was slowed by having to maintain two different versions of the potion like I had suggested. And for more good news, the stock of Potion of Youth for the king was lasting longer than I had expected. At the rate we used it, I expected this bowl would last about three more weeks.

One day I awoke to a castle bustling with more activity than usual. Strolling through the hallway, I spotted the impeccably dressed butler who had given me a change of clothes on the day of the Witch Hunter attack. “Hey,” I called out to him as he walked by with a dignified hurry. “What’s all the commotion?”

“Perhaps sir has forgotten,” he said politely, “that Princess Arnya’s birthday is in five days. Just today, the king announced that he wishes to hold a grand ball in celebration. Several members of the Council of Lords will be in attendance, as well as a collection of the wealthiest and most important figures in the kingdom.”

I asked him how old she was turning. He seemed vaguely offended at the question but answered smoothly. She was the same age as me, I pondered as the butler moved off.

I wasn’t much of a fan of dances. Sure, I had attended some high school dance events, but I never danced myself, preferring to hover near the snack table. I should really skip this event to focus on bringing my alchemy up to speed. Also Arnya hated my guts now and took every opportunity to avoid me, so there was that.

Just as I had made up my mind, the butler returned. “Excuse me sir, but His Majesty the king would like to request that you attend the ball.”

“Ah, um...I think I’ll decline. I don’t feel well.” I made a feeble attempt to fake cough.

“The ball is in five days, sir. I have no doubt you will have recovered.”

“Yes, well, better not risk it, right?”

“The king was very insistent, sir. Perhaps you best take it up with him. I believe he has just finished breakfasting.”

“Oh, no need to bother him--”

A booming voice echoed down the hall. “Rei, my boy! How are you?” The king was striding through the hallway, bodyguards and Arnya in tow, making a beeline for me.

“Who, me?” I said, desperately looking around for an escape. “I’m good. Fine. Never better.” Noticing the cool gaze from the butler, I added “except my sickness. Cough, cough.”

“Have you heard the good news?” he asked like he hadn’t heard me. “I want you to be a guest of honor at the princess’ birthday ball!”

“Shouldn’t the princess be the guest of honor? At the princess’ party?”

“You’ll be a secondary honoree!” be boomed, with so much joviality in his voice I knew it was fake. “What person better to celebrate than the birthday girl’s ex-fiancé?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience or embarrass the princess.” I glanced at Arnya. Big mistake: she wore her trademark icy glare that could freeze lava. “I don’t think she wants me there.”

Arnya answered in an equally cold voice “whatever gave you that idea, alchemist?”

“Your expression?” I was pushing it, I knew, but I really did not want to do this.

“You are mistaken,” she replied in a voice that said I wasn’t mistaken at all. “Something I ate merely disagreed with me.”

“Then it’s all settled!” boomed the king again, clapping me on the shoulder.

“But--”

“Come, let’s speak in private. Got to get you ready, eh?” Despite my protests, he led me out of earshot of anyone. “This is for the kingdom,” he said, speaking quietly and dropping all affectations. “The Witch Hunters are becoming too politically powerful. The Council of Lords worries that I’m not strong enough to keep them at bay—or, worse yet, they agree with their twisted anti-sorcerery and anti-alchemy ideals. Showing you off like this sends a strong message that I stand firm on my official policy of tolerance. Blood and bones, boy, the whole birthday thing is just a pretense for this political move. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your Majesty. I will be there.”

“Good.” He sighed. “I wish Darnyus was still here. Having my son, a sorcerer, stand on the Council of Lords and have a strong chance to be elected as king when I abdicate...” he sighed.

“Darnyus...Arnya’s half-elf father? Who left her to live with elves?”

He nodded. “The full story is complicated, and I have no wish to dredge up my granddaughter’s unpleasant memories. Let’s just say Darnyus was too skilled of a sorcerer. ‘Power in the hands of the righteous multiplies the plots of the wicked.’” He spoke that last sentence like he was quoting a famous proverb.

A thought occurred to me. “If Darnyus was your son and was a half-elf, and you’re a human, that must mean...”

He grinned. “Now that one is a pleasant memory. Remind me to tell you the story of how I was the first man in centuries to wed an elven woman! After we get through this muddy business with the Witch Hunters, eh?” He bid farewell with a magnanimous wave, leaning in to quietly speak with Arnya.

Five days later, I stood in front of the door leading into the great hall. From the other side came the sound of hundreds of voices speaking at once. “Is sir ready?” asked the butler. “Your notes are in order?” I glanced at the small paper clutched in my hands, trying to calm my trembling nerves. Taking a few deep breaths, I nodded. “Then, good luck sir.”

I placed my hands on the big double doors. “Showtime,” I said under my breath, pushing them open and stepping inside.