Waiting outside the administrative building was Artur, who went towards the group as they exited through the front. He noticed their tired eyes and lumbering movements and asked what had happened. In response was a series of grunts and murmurs. Siegfried came up to him, put a hand on his shoulder and said, “We have learned today that associating with men named Medurio creates much disturbance in one’s life.”

They began to walk back towards the dormitories as Artur barraged them with more questions, “Was the inquisitor there? Were you seen?” He went on and on, receiving humorous and dubious answers from Siegfried.

As night came, the group crowded itself into Medurio's room. "What a plain little place, but considering your character…" Artur said, looking around disappointedly.

Medurio shrugged, "I only come here to sleep. The chairs in the library are much more comfortable than that rickety thing." He was referring to the small wooden chair that was at his desk and every other desk in the dormitory. It was covered in scratches and visibly lopsided.

“That explains why I always see you there,” Scrulo added. “Which confuses me, why did you choose to do what you did when you are so close to one of the greatest libraries in the world?”

Medurio grunted tiredly and placed his bag on the table as the others sat themselves down on his bed. “Ah, that’s quite nice,” Siegfried said as he laid down. “Unfortunate that someone like you sleeps on a bed such as this.”

“Does your room not have the exact same bed?” Scrulo questioned.

“The one in my room is a bit broken. One wrong move and my back suffers terribly.”

Medurio used the conversation behind him as background noise as he began to put together the ingredients. Scrulo stood up to stand beside him, causing the others to either do the same or look around him.

Placing the translated text where he could read it, he began to go down the list of ingredients.

First, a glass of water. He had left it on the table before leaving in the morning.

Second, a spoonful of wine. Prepared by Artur during their initial acquaintance at the tavern.

Third, a dash of sugar. He poured the contents of the tiny pouch Livia had given him into the cup. The tiny white flakes fell like sand down an hourglass.

Four, Swiftweed bean. Medurio placed the large bean that he had collected on the table. Lifting his fist into the air, he slammed it down upon it, immediately turning it flat. He continued to crush it down until it was in pieces. Since he had no pestle, it would have to do. Though he worried slightly that it would somehow cause an issue.

Finally, a blessing of one of the gods, done only to please Scrulo’s fears. He chose to take a blessing from Kimecket, the lower goddess of alchemy, with whom he made a pact when he first decided that alchemy would be his calling. Putting his hands together, he uttered the words which he hoped would please the goddess enough to grant a blessing. “Oh goddess of the alchemical, please grant me thy power. Channel thy blessing upon this creation, crafted with the tools of your very name.”

Suddenly, the contents of the cup glowed with shining radiance, as if a candle had been placed within. Slightly pushing himself off the chair, Medurio went for a closer look. But it had left as soon as it came, like the sun peaking through the clouds for only a moment. He smiled, all that piety his father had thrown at him in his younger days had finally been given reason.

He looked to Scrulo, who gave an approving nod; he had also been captivated by the light.

“Care to do the honors, Mr. Holy Alchemist?” Siegfried said. He stood beside Scrulo, intrigued by the divine intervention that had taken place. “Even if it is blessed by a goddess, I am still wary of drinking something made by you.”

"Should you really be drinking such a thing? The blessing does not excuse it from being on the brink of heretical.” Livia said with a worried frown.

“I’ve already committed heresy. This on the other hand, is about as heretical as prayer,” Medurio replied grouchily. He held the cup in his hand, unsure of whether he would actually follow his own words. All the effort, all the stress and discomfort applied by his recent actions could all be naught if he chose not to drink. Still, his mind was tired and his enthusiasm gone. What had he gone and done? What would his father think? No, these were just old thoughts interrupting. It was time to drink!

So Medurio drank. He sipped and a strong bitter taste immediately entered his mouth. He stopped drinking for a moment, opening his mouth and moving his tongue about to get rid of it. Behind him came faint chuckling from Siegfried and Artur. Scrulo and Livia on the other hand, came closer to make sure that he would not fall over dead.

After the bitterness subsided, Medurio drank some more. A few sips with space between to not multiply the fowl flavor.

Finally, the feeling he had been hoping for had come. He laid the cup upon the table and looked about. Just as the writer of that treacherous document had described, his whole body had felt enhanced somehow. His tiredness had faded and the strength that his body had lost had returned.

He smiled and leaped out of his chair quickly enough to startle those around him. This was it, this was the joy of alchemy. A nostalgic feeling overcame him, of those days when he concocted potions detailed in his father’s books. It had all been worth it now, every last part of it.

“What happened?” Scrulo asked with worry.

“What in the god’s!” Siegfried exclaimed.

“Ha!” Medurio blurted excitedly. “You must try this! I do not believe I have felt better in years!” And he grabbed the cup and thrusted it out towards them, an even greater smile on his face. He couldn’t let this moment flicker away. Something incredible had been created with his hands and their help. How could one ever deprive another of such joy?

Artur snatched the cup from his hand, “I must take this offer friend! How much wine did I really pour into this thing?” And he took a sip, only to recoil from the taste. “Piss!” He strained.

“You two have peaked my curiosity.” Scrulo said as he snatched the cup from Artur’s hand. “What does that taste like anyway?” Then he took a sip. “Quite bitter I suppose.” He looked into the cup, “Perhaps we should have made more. Care for a taste?” Then he presented it to Livia.

Livia stared at the cup with some reproach but eventually took it. “Is this not heresy?”

“It has been blessed, a product of the gods cannot be defined as heresy.” Scrulo answered.

Livia nodded her head and took a reluctant sip. “Blegh!” She said disgustedly, extending her tongue. “This is awful!”

“Now I feel it!” Artur declared. Seizing the cup from the still uneasy Livia, he held it out to Siegfried. “You must try it. I feel as if I can lift a boulder right now!”

Siegfried held his hands up cautiously but had a humorous look on his face, “Is it really fine? Will I not end up as absurd as you?”

“It’s quite decent really.” Scrulo said, acting much more composed than Artur. “So far all it has done is restore my energy. Exactly as the text had described.”

“Well if you say it’s fine, I am more inclined to believe it.” Siegfried gestured for the cup. “Let me have a sip.” He was handed the cup and took a few small gulps. He raised a brow, “A strange flavor. You exaggerated it, it tastes fine!”

Artur shook his head, “Perhaps your mouth is different from mine. Because it was horrid! Although, I wouldn’t say no to another sip.”

“Too bad we’re all out,” Siegfried said, turning the cup upside down to allow a single droplet free.

“Shame,” Artur said. “Don’t think this means you can just start making more. You almost got us all killed for a single cup!” He said, turning to Medurio.

Medurio had barely listened to them. He sat, laying with hands on the back of his head, a smile plastered on his face. He hoped this happiness would never end and thus decided that he would never stop his pursuance of knowledge. “It’s fine,” he told Artur. “The fact that it worked has made it worth the effort.”

Artur raised a brow and Scrulo sighed, “Saint Quintinus, may he continue to be blessed,” he started. “Once said that a man can be shaped into many different forms, but that their core shall always remain the same.”

“Perhaps,” Medurio said. “But some shapes can be entirely different from others.”

Scrulo smiled warmly, “Dear me, perhaps you should come with Siegfried and I for a drink. You would be a philosopher in another life I think.”

“Awful idea,” Siegfried said with faux concern. “I fear what this man can do when drunk.”

“There is still time, friends!” Artur said excitedly. “The night only just arrived and the four of us have gathered. Why don’t we go now?”

Livia sighed. “We were this close to being labeled as heretics and you four want to go out drinking?”

“That only gives us greater reason to drink,” Siegfried said while sitting, with a big smile that was onset by the concoction.

“Forget the heresy my lady!” Artur said with a loud voice and went into another lazy bow that Medurio snorted at. “I believe I have experienced a drink similar to this one before. The northerners have something called coffee. Leaves you energized and can be just as bitter. Although I don’t think it can compare to something of this magnitude,” he shrugged. “If the northerners were to be smited for drinking such a thing, would we not know about it?”

“Your claim has some ground,” Scrulo said, crossing his arms. “But the Holy Ezux scholars I have spoken to have said that the desert people are automatically labeled as heretics due to their belief in reincarnation.”

“Bah! What are they to say?” Scrulo replied. “They still live, that is enough for me to believe that is not so.”

Scrulo frowned and Medurio sighed. “Enough of this talk!” Siegfried interrupted. “There are only three people in the world who can argue over such matters: scholars, politicians and drunkards. Save it for when we’re the latter!” He looked to Livia, “better yet, why not join us as well? You showed just as much courage as the rest of us!”

“Uh…” Livia muttered uncomfortably. Then her face hardened, “Four men and a woman of the cloth walking into a tavern, is that not strange to you?”

Siegfried’s face reddened, “Apologies.”

They said their goodbyes to Livia as she left. Then suddenly the mood of the room changed. “How about another challenge, Medurio,” Siegfried said. “But instead of swords, our stomachs will decide the winner.”

Medurio smirked, “Once again I am under-skilled for the task.”

“I know you’ll bring some dirty tricks with you.”

Medurio didn’t respond and the two men instead battled each other with their glares.

“Save it for later!” Artur said, “We are not even there yet and you two have already decided on a contest.”

So once again, Medurio followed them to the tavern. Strangely, he no longer felt any annoyance when they spoke. Perhaps because he had seen that even they could experience the delight of alchemy.