Saturday morning, Micah took stock at the desk in his room.

He knew how to make eight different types of potions, two low-grade healing potions, one that required blood, one that didn't, a comfort potion, a fertilizer, a potion that could grow a plant, a light potion that only worked if you shook it, a firelighter, a potion that was warm, and the scent-of-flowers potion he always wore.

Some of those Micah could customize to a certain degree, like making himself smell like apples instead of flowers, but alchemy was surprisingly strict in its uses. You could have a dozen different ways to make the same type of potion and the end result would stay mostly the same.

Micah was a little proud of himself, if he was being honest, that he had found out how to make them all. Looking at his sheaves of recipes, though, he wondered just which ones of them would be useful inside the Tower.

"Healthy Green and Plant-in-a-Bottle are out," he decided, and after mulling it over for a bit, "Candle's Bad Friend, too." The fertilizer potion and the plant growing potion were just plain useless, but the firelighter potion had other reasons for why he couldn’t use it.

Micah knew if he doused something with it, he could then ignite it with [Candle], but Garen said that the monsters in the lower floors preferred numbers over strength. Micah only had so many waterskins and flasks he could spare, or even carry with him. He had to hit his target in the first place without getting any on himself, or he might catch fire as well, and if he set a fully-grown monster on fire he would ruin its body.

It just didn’t seem like a good idea.

Sadly, he thought. Micah liked [Candle], even though it bit him sometimes when he held it for too long. It was simple, cute and his only offense Skill.

Other than that, the only potions he could imagine being useful inside the Tower were his healing potions and the light potion.

Speaking of which, Micah walked over to his bed to check on last week's healing potion. He hadn't gotten around to finishing the new one yesterday and needed to know if it was still good. To do that, he just got out his glass bottle and poured some of it inside. The result wasn't that great. The patterns were faint and stagnant, almost breaking apart. Micah would have to spend a lot of time shaking it to keep it from going bad before tomorrow …

Tomorrow. His heart raced from just thinking about it. Did he really want to go through with this? No, he had to. But if he was panicking this much already, would he even be able to pull through? Micah didn't want to spend all his savings only to chicken out in the end.

He looked back at the desk and his recipes. He would have to make the comfort potion, too. That made three. Maybe he could steal a pot from downstairs? No, wait, he corrected himself. He wouldn't have to. He could only make the potion afternoon anyway, so he still had time.

With that settled, he carefully filled the healing potion back into its waterskin and pulled out a small wooden box instead. He slid the lid open and frowned. His bug collection hadn't fared so well since the last time he'd used it, a few months ago.

The dung beetles were still good, he thought. Their essence didn't really disperse that well. But the fireflies were all dried up balls of husk. Maybe Micah should have preserved them somehow, but he didn't know any way of doing that. A preservation potion? It could be his next project. Healing potions worked a lot with preservation themes from honey, he knew. Maybe if he worked with hardened tree sap-

Stay on topic, he told himself.

[Basic Alchemy] wasn't giving him any ideas either, so he was off the mark anyway. Or it just wasn't basic enough.

Either way, the question now was, how was he going to make his light potion without lightning bugs? He didn't have the time to work out a whole other way of making one. Could he maybe work around the problem somehow?

Micah thought about it for a bit and went back to his desk. He pulled out the old journal his father had bought him for his birthday and leafed through it until he found the pages where he kept his butterflies. Their colors were barely faded at all. He smiled. They would do.

He got out his second waterskin and rushed downstairs to fill it. Then he set up his equipment so it was behind his bed, scraped some of the yellow butterflies into the glass and filled it with water. He lit the candles beneath the tripod and waited for it to heat up. When it was ready, he infused their entire essence into the water, giving it a flapping yellow pattern of moving butterflies. It lacked its usual airiness and luster, though. Would it really be enough?

Next, he moved the glass to be half hidden in the shadows running up to his bed and got out his pouch of marbles. He dunked them in some water and warmed them in the morning sunlight until they glittered with its essence. As he let them fall into the same glass as the butterflies, he quickly started stirring, using [Infusion] over and over until the essence in the glass lost its weight and looked more like yellow light throwing the shadows of butterflies. He put out the candles lest it got too hot, fished out the butterflies with a sieve and continued stirring until only the barest hints of their shadows were left. Then Micah got out the dried up fireflies and dropped them in. He pulled the tripod all the way into the sunlight, waited for it to cool a little, stirred in a little bit of healing potion, corked the bottle and shook it until the dead fireflies inside absorbed enough of the essence mixture to develop their own again. They wouldn't be glowing in normal life, probably, but they did under his [Essence Sight].

Lastly, he drew the shutters, closed his door, reheated the glass and used [Infusion] one last time. The potion burst into brilliant light. It was a little more golden than yellow this time around, and looked more crystalline, too. Micah also doubted it would last all too long since he hadn’t given it much to work with, but it did work, and he would take it.

He used a sieve to filter out his marbles and filled the mixture into a flask. All the while, his [Basic Alchemy] warned him not to drink it. Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time. It was only warning him again because he'd used a different method this time, he thought. Not that it needed to. Drinking potions was rarely a good idea.

Micah cleaned the glass bottle in the kitchen and set it up again, this time with water and honey for the healing potion. He winced as he cut his hand, but he didn't slip. While he let the mixture simmer, he stopped the bleeding and wrote down the recipe for the alternative light potion he'd just made. He didn't have the patience to do the illustrations, so he just wrote down the steps before putting the recipes back in their book on his shelf.

By then the potion still wasn't ready, so he crammed out his Fall boots from an old trunk in the cupboard and picked out an old set of tight-fitting clothes. The boots pinched his toes when he tried them on, which was annoying, and the clothes choked his arms and neck a little, but they would do. Better those got dirty than anything new his parents had recently bought him.

Micah put them in a pile under his bed and finally got to work on finishing this week’s healing potion. When he was done, he cleaned up, put everything back in its place and got dressed. His mom was busy plucking weeds in the backyard. His dad wasn't home. Micah took the chance to steal the hunting knife from the sitting room and hide it with everything else. Then he told her he was off to hang out with some friends in the market. It was only half a lie since he wasn't going to be meeting anyone. Actually, it was more three quarters a lie since he was headed to a market, just not the market.

It didn't really matter in the end, Micah thought as he made his way into the city. She would never find out. And then he had other things to think about.

The Saturday morning Bazaar greeted him like a family get-together or his sister’s wedding. He shuddered in memory of it. It was the familiar chaos of too many people Micah did not recognize gathered in a tight space, shouting, talking, carrying things around and acting much too friendly towards one another. Micah couldn't help but smile. So many times he had walked its streets, this time he finally got to spend some money. And he knew just the places to go.

He bought a pack that he could sling over one shoulder, and a belt with loops to keep things in. He also bought another flask and a waterskin at the same place, and a small glass bottle at another to keep his light potion in. The bandages were surprisingly cheap, so he bought a whole bunch of them. Then he changed his mind, went back and bought twice as many. He found a wooden whistle and a small bouncing ball at a stall selling children's toys and promptly lost the later on his way home. It bounced at an odd angle off a road tile, jumped into an alley and disappeared. Micah spent far too long looking through the trash for it. Someone snickered walking past and his ears burned as he forced himself away. It was getting late and he was only a few streets away from home by then. He wouldn't turn around to buy another.

In the end, he was happy that he'd used up most his savings. What he had left was barely enough to pay the entrance fee, let alone buy the beginner's guide, but for some reason that was good. He did apologize to Garen in thought but consoled himself with the knowledge that he wouldn't have had time to read it anyway. He still had to brew his comfort potion and he wanted to swing that knife around for a bit, to get a feel for it.

He went to bed early, thinking he'd get a good night's rest, but couldn't fall asleep until he took a sip of comfort.

The next morning, Micah told his parents that he was going to hang out with some friends again, to go play alleyball all day. His mother told him to be careful, his dad to be home before dark, and then both that he should try his best. Micah promised that he would. Then he got his bag, put on his clothes and snuck out through the window.

That’s how he found himself in front of the Climber's Guild again, sweating. It was from the trepidation, again. He ducked out of the way to take a deep breath and peered through one of the building's front windows, trying to see if he could spot Linda anywhere. Hopefully, the receptionist wasn't working today. If she saw him or said something …

Deep breaths, Micah reminded himself. Luckily, he was an alchemist and could simply brew his solution.

His hands were shaking as he unscrewed the flask of comfort potion. He gulped it all down in one go. When he screwed it shut again, there was no more shaking. Micah sighed in relief and his shoulders sagged. He put the flask back in his bag and pulled out the belt he'd bought, looping it into his pants. He’d put the knife, a waterskin and a flask with last week's healing potion on it where he could easily reach them. Then he checked the window one more time and went in, quickly heading off to the side.

It didn't take him long to find Garen's reception this time since he wasn’t pushing his way through a dozen lines of waiting Climbers. There were more people around than last time, too, even all the way in the back. They sat around sofas almost leisurely, some looking like they could use a good night's rest, others reading. Some were pacing behind them or practicing forms with their weapons. It was interesting to watch. Micah had to pull himself away from a couple practicing together.

He was surprised when he saw a small line in front of Garen’s desk.

"Oh, hey, Michel!" the older man greeted him when he joined the line. "Back already?"

"Micah," he corrected him.

"What did I say?"

"Never mind," Micah brushed it off. Not everyone was good with names, he guessed. Garen turned his attention back to his customer and Micah waited, thought of nothing. Eventually, he got bored and stared at the ceiling, counted tiles.

“So, did you want to head into the Tower right away?” Garen asked when it was finally his turn.

"Yeah,” Micah shrugged. Something clinked in his bag. That wasn’t good. He would have to check what it was. “I'm as prepared as ever, so I thought I'd head in right away."

Garen leaned over the counter and gave him a quick up and down, humming to himself.

“And you’ve got a healing potion?” he asked.

“Two.”

“The dagger’s sharp?”

“Just sharpened it at home.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Micah shrugged.

“Stick em' with the pointy end. You should take the sharpening tools with you if you plan on going higher than the second floor.”

He nodded this time to show he’d heard.

“Hmm,” Garen said and sat down again. “Alright.” He scratched his beard a little more, clearly thinking. Micah didn’t interrupt him. He didn’t want to be rude. “What else, what else? Linda’s form will take weeks to pass so there’s no need to worry about that…”

“Linda’s form?” Micah asked and Garen looked up, eyebrows high. He seemed surprised for a moment. Then he smiled.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, really. Those things never go through. Linda’s just worried about you is all. She thinks it would be a shame to see the scary monsters bite your face off.”

Something was off about that, Micah thought. Was Garen mocking him or maybe Linda? Maybe he was mocking the monsters... If Micah had known Garen any longer, or if he was any antsier, he would have been pretty sure the man was lying. But it wasn’t really important, was it? No, not right now.

“One one-day pass, then, please,” he said and placed the coins onto the counter.

Garen nodded and whisked them away. He told Micah to hold his hand up and brought out a stamp.

“On my wrist, please?” Micah asked. He didn’t know if the stamp would come off easily and didn’t want anyone to see. He could put on a long sleeved shirt at home if he had to.

“Of course,” Garen said and looked at him. “You can put the stamp anywhere you want, as long as you can show it to the guards without being indecent.”

Micah considered, maybe he should hide it better then?

“On my shoulder?”

Garen nodded. Micah rolled up his sleeve and leaned over. The ink was blue, and it shined faintly. Was that real or could only he see that? The seal wasn’t even wholly there. It was sideways, too. He couldn’t figure out what it said.

“Go on then,” Garen said. He pointed towards the entrance again, where the fortified doors to the Tower were. “Shoo, shoo!”

Micah began to shuffle away a bit, still staring at the stamp, lost in thought. This was really happening, wasn’t it?

“Good luck,” the man also said. “Don’t get yourself killed, and don’t be too proud to whistle!”

Micah snapped back before he was too far away and called a thank you. Somehow, he knew he was going to need all the luck he could get.

Garen gave him a thumbs up. Some people on the nearby sofas looked amused.

Then he was off.