The study of alchemy is a relatively new field. Until the land of Esturia was broken, there was no inherent magic in the world around us, just the power of the four cardinal elements, along with black and white magic, which were all harnessed by the will of humans. Scholars argue about the cause of the breaking, but the truth is that nobody knows.

With the breaking came the study of alchemy, a way to turn the dangerously altered material of the Broken Lands into something useful to humans. The problem is, the first and second men who decided to start compounding the organs of dead monsters into beverages had a huge disagreement. That disagreement has been passed down to all of their followers until this day.

How do I know this? It is because alchemy, much like academia in my world, is full of contradictory opinions, false claims, and outright mud-slinging. It's good to know that humans don't change when traveling between worlds.

I had my face planted on a copy of Binzhamin's alchemy basics. The text was faded and tended to curl at the edges due to repeated use by various students throughout its lifetime. It was also full of so many incorrect 'truths' of alchemy that I was ready to hurl it out the window.

"Does anybody on this world test their hypotheses before writing them down as facts?" I wondered aloud.

Alchemico Byar, the head of the class on theoretical alchemy, had assigned this reading a month before class even started. I was terribly afraid of what his idea of 'theory' would be if he were assigning this junk to us.

Closing the book, I boldly decided to stop reading it. I was only half way through, and I could literally feel all of the things I had learned started to melt and drain straight out of my ear. I was not going to oblige my future teacher by wasting my time. If I needed half-formed, irrelevant opinions on the subject I was perfectly capable of making them myself.

I had been hitting the books for two entire weeks after delivering my letter of recommendation and the note of mark from Laurel to a rather bored looking clerk at the administration building. He had dryly informed me when classes would begin and had been almost offended that I had asked him for a pass to visit the library. It seemed that few of my peers were visiting the library this early.

Their loss I guess.

I had found a small cupboard cleverly disguised as a room above the shop of an herbalist, who had been impressed enough by my knowledge of her herbs to allow me to stay there for a modest sum and a promise that I would make sure to keep her plants watered. I liked plants, they didn't talk back all that much, and even when you cut them down, they just grew right back.

I put back the font of lies masquerading as an academic book and went back to browsing the shelves on theoretical alchemy. If I was going to be here, I was going to find something that was actually worth reading. I made my first great find when I pulled down a dusty old tome. Unlike every other book on the subject, the author of this particular book had failed to put his name in flowing script across the front. It simply read:

Practical Alchemy: Don't eat poisonous monsters without cooking them first.

I cracked the spine as a joke, but knew that I had found something special when the author mentioned that a large enough dose of any curative would protect a person from certain death, albeit without countering the individual effects of monster poison.

Even Laurel, who I considered quite a skilled alchemist, had not known this little tidbit. Whoever had written this book had apparently discovered this and many other things that I had only found through trial and error. I silently blessed the author as I worked through its pages, taking extensive notes of my own.

As the end of the day approached, I stumbled out of the now darkening recesses of the alchemy section of the library. It seemed that alchemists had been relegated to the darkest, dankest corner of the library. I was glad for the essence lantern which I kept with me, its soft light was likely the only thing keeping me from a severe loss of vision.

"Good evening Master Dyre," The librarian said.

I jumped, "Master Norry!"

The middle-aged man smiled at me, his white streaked black hair held back in a ponytail.

"I hope that you found everything to your liking today." He continued, toting a stack of books past me towards the magical theory section, "It's nice to have some young blood in here once in a while."

How are you so sneaky while carrying a stack of books old man!?

"Y-yes sir!" I said, standing at attention, "My time here has been enlightening!"

"Good, good," He said, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

He was still walking away, so I jogged to catch up with him as he began shelving books according to some arcane secret to which I was not privy.

"Afraid not," I said, "I have to start brewing something if I want to be able to eat for the rest of the semester."

He nodded, then regarded me carefully, "You know, we have need of a junior clerk. If you are looking to make some money."

"I appreciate the offer," I said, holding up a hand, "But I am a master alchemist."

He nodded somberly, "Understood, although you should know that even master alchemists can struggle here in Aramor. I've seen more than a few promising students leave because of financial difficulties."

I grinned, "Don't worry about me sir, I'm a medical alchemist. Nobody makes the things that I do!"

His eyebrows quirked in interest, "Haven't had any trouble from the church about that have you?"

I shook my head, "My remedies fill a niche that white magic either cannot, or is too expensive to make available to the general public."

"Hmmm, interesting." He said, "You wouldn't happen to have anything for the creaks would you?"

"May I see your hands?" I asked.

I touched them and closed my eyes, visualizing the power of magic as I muttered a spell in an archaic language:

Stars above and earth below

Hear my words and heed my call

Two in body, one in mind

Malady and truth to find

A whisper of magic flowed between us, carried by the words of the spell and my intent. I felt the swelling and pain in Master Norry's body flow through my own in an instant, leaving an imprint in my mind of the damage.

Several days after my encounter with the goddess Orianna, I had picked up a book on practical magic and tried one of the spells in it. The results had been... spectacular. At least to me. Practical magic is infinitely more rigid than the fluid power of the cardinal elements. It also does a lot of things that a cardinal mage cannot. Like giving me an intimate knowledge of the damage working its way through Master Norry's body in exchange for feeling the pain that he felt.

I rummaged through my bag, whispering the name of the medicine I wanted and withdrawing it. Arthritis was just as common on Esturia as it was in my world, and it was one of the first things I had worked on creating a treatment for. While white magic could certainly fix the problem, only the nobility could afford that kind of luxury. My own recent experience with white magic led me to believe that the price of such restorative procedures was elevated more in the interests of sparing the cost in white mages, rather than the price of essence.

Removing the vial, I handed it to him, "This should do the trick. Add a drop of this to a bowl of water as hot as you can stand and soak your hands for ten minutes for the next ten days. You can do it with a warm compress if it's a knee or shoulder, though you'll have to do it for about twenty days for that."

He regarded that vial warily, "How much does this cost?"

"I generally charge five silvers for a dose like this," I said, "But you can have it on the house. Just let your friends know when you can move your fingers again without pain. The treatment is good for about a year, so come find me when things start to hurt again."

He stared at it, then at me, "Well, if it works, I certainly will."

I left him to it and headed home. Tanna's herbs and remedies was a ten minute walk from the collegium grounds, and its proprietor was a wick geomancer with a green thumb talent. She could urge a seed to sprout in half its normal time, which turned out to be extremely useful when peddling herbs.

Tanna was in the shop when I entered and she tossed me a cheery wave as I headed up to the second level where I lived in her spare broom closet. I returned her gesture with a two fingered salute and paced my way up the stairs.

"Master Dyre!" Came a booming voice.

I turned towards the owner of the voice. Before me stood the obscenely wide frame of Derrick, Tanna's husband. His skin was darkened from a day spent at his profession, that of a blacksmith. The smithy adjoined the greenhouse, generating heat during the winter for the plants to survive. The man himself was the other half of the reason why I had chosen this place as my lodging.

Derrick was not just a blacksmith, though that made up the majority of his sales. He was also a firebrother who specialized in weapon smithing. The occasional adventurer would appear at Tanna's shop to request the creation of a superior blade. He had given up adventuring for his trade, and the few commissions he did carry out were lucrative enough that he and his wife between them had a comfortable living.

I turned to face him as he clapped me on the shoulder, nearly sending me sprawling to the ground.

"Hello Derrick." I winced.

He chuckled, "Sorry about that, I'm still getting used to the extra strength."

I had traded Derrick six level two strength enhancing elixirs, enough for six months of use, in exchange for the use of his forge and the promise that he would teach me how to work a blade. We were both certain that we had gotten the better end of the bargain.

"You're going to go blind if you spend all of your time in that musty library," He admonished me, "I've seen it happen before."

I grinned wryly, "I keep an essence lamp with me. Low light is what really damages eyes."

"Hmmm," He said, rubbing his chin, "You're supposed to work the forge with me tomorrow."

I nodded, "In the morning, then I'm headed to the alchemy lab over at the university. I begged some personal time to make some of my own things for sale."

He eyed me shrewdly, "You wouldn't happen to need a place to sell those things would you?"

I held up my hands defensively, "The university takes two coppers from a silver of what I make and sells it for me."

"We could do a copper on the silver," He offered.

I shook my head, "I would be barred from the dispensary and expelled from the guild if I were caught selling solo. I don't need to tell you how difficult it is to get herbs from the Broken Lands here."

He sighed, "It was worth a try."

I left him with that and spent the rest of the night practicing inscription. That was how my days had gone so far. The ten day 'week' of Aramor had been a strange alteration to my habits. Even stranger was the fact that the fifth day and the tenth day were the religious days, with the fifth day being devoted to Tyr, the god of justice and mercy. The tenth day belonged to Orianna. I began to wonder whether or not I should try to introduce the weekend to Esturia.

Every other workday I would spend time in the forge. I was grateful for Laurel's insistence that I complete at least one round of strength enhancing elixirs, as they were the only things that prevented me from dropping dead during these sessions. That, and a lot of water. Firebrothers, red mages of middling strength, are resistant to heat and flame. Derrick claims he can suck the stuff up to become stronger. I am disinclined to doubt him.

The rest of my daytime hours were spent at the library, combing through the tomes on alchemy, practical magic, and enchanting. The headaches I nursed over the bloat associated with alchemy texts were rivaled only by those I acquired while trying to find anything at all written about my two other subjects of interest.

Attunement, the spell which I had used on Master Norry today, was one of the only useful practical magic spells I had come across so far. It was actually an extension of the spell which was commonly used to detect the strength and affinity of other mages. Everything else was either a parlor trick, or just outright wrong. I was beginning to be frustrated by the heavy emphasis placed on cardinal magic in Aramor.

Enchantment, as I had been told my Master Norry, was a very secretive skill. Individual houses hoarded their own enchantment techniques. It seemed that the possession of magic items beyond mundane items such as essence lanterns, even those whose use was unknown, was a symbol of status among those of higher breeding. After learning this, I had been very careful to keep my own magic items secret. Without any other source of information, I had read, then re-read the primer I had obtained in Whelden. I was getting quite good at the precise, geometric art of inscribing.

After an hour I set down my pencil and leaned back, groaning at the pain in my back. I briefly contemplated using a little white magic to heal myself, then suppressed that thought with a shudder. In the past two weeks I had started to practice with my newly acquired affinity and come to a single conclusion.

White magic was the most dangerous of all magic.

The feeling of channeling the stuff was beyond pleasure. After touching it for the first time, I found myself diving straight into its lovely embrace. I had awoken a day later, shivering like a heroin addict going through withdrawal. I remembered a cool, dispassionate part of my brain rummaging through the small rack of potions that I kept in my closet, my hands unsteady from a palsy-like shaking. I had eventually found the small vial of bile toad extract and downed the whole thing.

I had pre-treated the stuff with a curative to counter the killing effect, leaving only the magic dampening effects. That small vial had kept me alive for long enough to reassert a modicum of discipline over the yammering desire to burn through all of my reserve essence. I had since let myself touch that deadly power only a few times, and only with another vial of the toad poison in hand. It was heady beyond reason, and my desire to touch the stuff was outweighed only by the absolute terror I felt towards it.

But by the goddess, how i wanted to touch it, just ignite the smallest fraction of essence into it. The thought made me shiver again, though this time, it was a shiver of pure anticipation. Closing my eyes, I mastered myself.

Breathing deeply, I massaged my lower back and stood up, opening the door to my room.

"Whatcha doin'?" Came a small voice, causing me to jump and knock my head against the roof.

Rubbing my aching crown, I looked down at Miriam, Tanna and Derrick's daughter. The girl shared Tanna's dark brown curls, but her face favored her father, all angles. Her pale blue eyes were ringed by an emerald halo brought on by the use of wind magic. I had spent enough time with her to gauge her soul at somewhere a little above her father, who sat at the average strength of mages in Esturia. A windsister then, with all of the flighty characteristics that marked practitioners of that magic.

I carefully pushed her back, "Just some inscribing."

She screwed up her face, "You're always working Master Dyre, don't you ever do anything fun?"

"Reading is fun." I mumbled.

"Hah!" She laughed, "I was right, you're as stuffy as an adult."

"You're not exactly a minor." I pointed out, "And I am... I think I'm twenty-something."

"This is what happens when you spend all of your time with books," She said righteously, "It turns your brain into mush. Do you even know what day it is?"

I began counting on my fingers.

"My point exactly!" She crowed in triumph.

"Is there a reason why you're here?" I asked, feeling a little irritated.

"Mom wants you to stop acting like a hermit and come down for dinner." She said.

"She wants me to stir the pot again doesn't she?" I asked, a note of resignation in my voice.

She grinned, "You're so smart Master Dyre!"

Tanna's homemade stew was passable. Nothing I would write home about, but I would never turn it down. However, being a gray mage came with a lot of minor perks, most of which were clearly designed to eat away at my preciously apportioned time. Just as I could forge a horseshoe that would outlast any other, or make a curative that would act almost instantly, my magic also gave me the ability to turn bland food into something... slightly less bland.

Ten minutes of stirring, and I was at the table with the family.

"You've become an amazing cook dear!" Derrick declared, downing his serving of stew.

Tanna broke a piece of bread, which I had taken a turn kneading, and winked at me. Glancing over at Miriam, I saw her tap the side of her nose and smile. It felt somewhat like I was being domesticated. I took solace in the fact that my magic was based largely on intent, and the feminine coercion which put me in the kitchen made my powers less effective. Though the stew steadily got better every day, so maybe I didn't mind it so much.

"Somebody came by the shop today," Derrick said after finishing his third bowl, "Looked like a knight of the Sisterhood."

I sat up straight, "Oh?"

He nodded, "Inquired after the forging of a blade. I gave her the rundown and she seemed interested. Although, she spent more than a little time looking around the forge. Kind of like she was searching for someone."

I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, "White hair, golden eyes?"

He nodded, "Is there something I should know about Master Dyre?"

"Are you courting someone?!" Miriam butted in, "You?!"

Don't act like it's such a surprise, little girl. Even if it's not true.

"Tylee and I journeyed together from Whelden," I supplied, "She promised to seek me out if she needed my assistance. I guess she has some kind of need now. If she comes by again, would you take a message or let her know when I will be there next?"

Derrick nodded, "Good to know you're not trying to hide. I don't want any trouble coming down on this house you know."

"I wouldn't dream of it sir." I said.

"Do you even know what a girl looks like?" Miriam spouted.

"I can see you can't I?" I growled.

Miriam blinked, then pulled back, muttering an excuse and leaving the table. Derrick scratched his bald head and Tanna muffled a giggle behind one of her hands.

"I need to look over my notes." I declared, excusing myself as well.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I made my way to my room, as if someone were glaring at me. When I turned to check, there was no one there. Esturia is making me paranoid.

XXXXXX

Tylee found me the next day at the forge. I felt mildly self-conscious of the thick apron and woolen shirt plastered to my body by a veritable flood of sweat. Tylee held no such reservations about my hygiene, and after speaking briefly with Derrick, she marched her way over to me, stopping within a short arm's reach.

"Master Dyre." She said, not seeming to notice the way that I probably reeked, "I believe that you once told me that you were an alchemist. What business have you in a smithy?"

"Siste-" I began.

"I have been released from my oaths to the Sisterhood and can no longer claim that title," She interrupted, pain evident in her features.

"Lady Arefina." I corrected, stepping back and bowing towards her, "I am a man of many talents."

Mild irritation crossed her face as I rose, but she accepted the courtesy. It looked as if she was still growing, or perhaps shrinking down, into her title. Though she carried herself with solid assurance, there was a mild aura of dissatisfaction around her. The kind of aura that usually sent men like me ducking for cover.

"You still look like a sister." I said, gesturing to the breastplate, greaves and vambraces which encircled the gold-trimmed white of her battle garb.

"An affectation to draw less attention." She said.

I stared at her, "You do know that a knight-sister of the order visiting a blacksmith is more than a little conspicuous. Right?"

She looked around, "I am here to speak to the smith about my weapon."

Ah, that made sense. But still, traveling incognito as a knight-sister was... Well, it was very much a move that Tylee would make. Blunt. I had a feeling that she had not been going for a so-dumb-it's-clever move.

"How may I assist you my lady?" I asked.

"You may call me Tylee." She said, showing another bout of irritation.

I held up a finger, "We are not exactly private here my lady, and I am trying very hard to make sure that I don't slip up when I speak to you. Even in places where we might not be overheard."

She paused, thinking about that, then nodded, "I see the wisdom in your words Master Dyre."

I grinned, "You must have me confused with someone else. I have never been wise, nor very masterful."

She gazed at me levelly, then drew her sword. I might have had the tiniest moment of doubt where I thought she intended to run me through, but that thought died when she held the weapon out to me. Gingerly, I accepted it and was surprised to feel a resonation when I took hold of it.

"Is this enchanted?" I asked, looked it over, "I don't see any inscriptions."

She shook her head, then spoke, "This is the blade that I carried from Whelden."

I paused, then examined it more closely. Sure enough, I did see several notches which I had noticed when sharpening and cleaning the blade. Closing my eyes, I quested towards it in the same way that I did with my staff, and I felt the stirrings of dormant power within its depths.

Completely forgetting Tylee, I stepped over to the forge and inserted the blade into the flames. While the blade did begin to heat, it was a much slower process, and I could literally feel the steel resisting the chaotic energy of the fire. I quickly withdrew it before any harm could be done to the weapon. Settling down at a bench, I began to examine the weapon closer.

"It still sings to me." Tylee noted from beside me, causing me to jump slightly, "Though its voice is muted."

I looked up at her, mildly chagrined, "Apologies. This is... unprecedented. I've never been able to do anything like this, and I certainly haven't read about it in any books."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I was also unable to find any reason for the continuance of the power you laid upon it, no matter how I searched the family library."

I ran a hand over the blade, then shrugged and took it to the grindstone. Closing my eyes, I took a moment to center myself, bringing my will to bear upon the blade, along with the trickle of magic that escaped through my fingers. I focused again on my intent, to make the blade sharper and harder. As I began to work, the resonance I felt within the blade grew stronger, as if it were remembering my previous ministrations.

At length, I finished my work and handed the weapon back to her. While it didn't emit any visible light, it seemed to glow in another sense. She hesitated, then took it from my grasp, examining it closely.

"It sings louder." She said quietly, as if regarding an object of reverence.

"It's still just a sword." I pointed out.

She shook her head as she sheathed the weapon, though I could feel her reluctance to hide away its new brilliance.

"It is an enchanted item, though there are no inscriptions upon it." She said, "This bears thought."

"Indeed," I responded, pondering aloud, "I thought I felt something within it. Why don't you bring it back Mornday and I'll work it again, see if anything else happens."

"I would not be opposed to this, although I came here to speak to you in your capacity as a medical alchemist." She said.

My ears perked up, "What happened?"

"It is my sister," She said, "Her health is continuing to deteriorate. I had hoped you would accompany me to her side and minister to her."

I glanced over at Derrick, who was surreptitiously cleaning some tools. He noticed my look and gestured to the door.

"I'm not your master." He said, "Though I am grateful for your assistance."

Tylee stepped up to the blacksmith and pressed something that glinted into his hand, "I thank you good smith, for the use of your workshop."

Derrick's eyes widened at the sight of a gold sovereign. It was not uncommon for him to receive gold pennies, but it was rare for even adventurers to carry sovereigns with them. They mostly paid in silver.

"I don't think I can accept this lady." He said, trying to hand it back, only to have her push it back against him.

"The goddess sees her own," Tylee said, "Master Dyre is a friend, and you have done more than shelter him. Accept this as a token of my gratitude."

I was already belting my way up into the house, my apron trailing as I blew past a peeping Miriam.