Chapter 517: The Real Alchemy
When Kyle Sichi came home that evening, he found a dark envelope on the dinner table.
“What’s this?” He looked toward the kitchen, where his wife Cerra was working.
“Oh—I meant to tell you.” She wiped her hands and carried a steaming bowl of meat broth to the table. “City Hall officials came this afternoon. They said His Highness wants you in King’s City. A boat comes in two days to escort you.”
“Isn’t he busy confronting his brother? Why does he need me there?” Kyle frowned at the envelope. “A week’s journey at minimum. His demands really do go too far.”
“He’s your prince, dear.” Cerra shook her head, smiling. “Lord of the City of Neverwinter. Also, the officials said he wrote you a personal letter—that’s rather an honor, isn’t it? You should keep it once you’ve read it. Perhaps a family heirloom.”
“A family heirloom.” Kyle curled his lip. “If only the complete edition of Intermediate Chemistry were this easy to come by. Let me read it after dinner. He’d better have a good reason.”
After his meal he went to his study, opened the envelope—and a small strip of paper the length of a finger fell out. A secret letter by carrier pigeon, then slipped into the envelope by the City Hall officials before delivery.
He pressed the strip flat with one hand and fumbled for his monocle with the other. His vision had been worsening steadily; years of reading under faint candlelight had taken their toll. Life in the town had improved considerably—five or six candles burning at once in his office now—but he still didn’t know when his house might get the kind of bright lights they used in the chemical plant.
One sentence on the strip:
Do you still remember the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City? Now it’s your chance to show them what the real alchemy is.
Kyle’s breath stopped.
The Alchemist Workshop of King’s City. The ultimate dream of every aspiring alchemist who had ever searched for the truth of all things—and he was no different, not when he was young.
Only Cerra knew the full story. He’d applied to the Workshop at twenty years old, carrying a formula he’d developed himself: the gold-dissolving liquid, a result of years of solitary work. He’d believed in it completely. But during the review, something had failed—the smoking brown acid liquor that the formula should have produced simply didn’t appear. He tried twice. The reviewing alchemist, Retnin, had erupted in outrage, accusing Kyle of deliberately wasting the Workshop’s valuable ingredients, and denied him a third attempt. The guards had seized his purse.
Outside the door, Retnin had tossed five silver royals from the purse onto the ground at Kyle’s feet and told him to buy passage back to Redwater City—that the remainder of the purse was compensation for the Workshop’s losses. He left without looking back, and the door closed behind him with finality. Kyle had stood in the street with the coins and the shame, and had not told anyone except Cerra.
He’d returned to Redwater City burning with humiliation, and had channeled every scrap of it into his workshop. Ten years later, at thirty, he produced a second formula—the double-stone acid-making method. Promotion. Six more years to become chair of Redwater City’s alchemist association. He’d developed the production of crystal glass too; large-scale acid production and the most sought-after alchemic product on the market. Even the proud Alchemist Workshop of King’s City couldn’t ignore those two accomplishments.
Not that it mattered much to them. Kyle had always seen the Workshop as his greatest rival; the Workshop had barely acknowledged his existence. Their alchemists were perpetually haughty, dismissing every other organization in every other city as an inferior imitation. They insisted other cities had no need for alchemic workshops at all—it was a discipline requiring enormous capital and manpower, beyond what regular lords could sustain. Anyone who needed alchemists should come to King’s City. The lords who invested tens of thousands of gold royals into local workshops were, in their estimation, merely wasting resources on incompetent men.
Embarrassingly, Kyle had known it was one-sided. Redwater City’s workshop saw King’s City as a competitor. King’s City did not see Redwater City at all.
And then Roland Wimbledon of Border Town had appeared, and opened his eyes to a world he hadn’t known existed.
Elementary Chemistry. The book had restructured everything. He’d realized, slowly and then all at once, that the alchemy he’d spent his life practicing was a backward discipline—organized guesswork dressed in ceremony. A new path of investigation lay ahead of it, and on that path, the relationship between all things was no longer murky and approximate but clear, structured, explicable. His old quarrels had become pointless. The formulas he’d bled for had become early drafts of a science that had since outgrown them. He’d let go of his vendetta with the Alchemist Workshop. He’d put it all down.
It was the reasonable thing to do.
But when His Highness mentioned them again—in a single strip of paper no longer than his finger—Kyle Sichi’s heart raced. The excitement that returned was not reasonable at all. It was old and sharp and familiar.
He stood at his desk for a long time, looking at the paper. Retnin’s cold figure. The muddy silver royals on the street outside the Workshop’s door. The grinding sound of it closing. There is no need for other alchemic workshops to exist. Every piece of it vivid as though it had happened last week.
Now it’s your chance to show them what the real alchemy is.
Kyle read the strip again. Then he set it down, walked out of his study—and stopped.
Cerra was in the living room, bent over an open travel bag, folding his clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing for King’s City.” She smiled without looking up. “Even if His Highness hadn’t written, I knew you’d still go. Do you remember the stories you used to tell me? There are things you’re owed in that city.”
He stared at her for a moment, and then he laughed—a real laugh, wide and sudden.
“Take good care of the house. I have to pay a visit to King’s City.”
Chapter 517: The Real Alchemy
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
…
When Kyle Sichi returned home, he immediately saw a dark envelope on the dinner table.
“What’s this?” He looked at his wife Cerra, who was busy at work in the kitchen.
“Oh, by the way, City Hall’s officials came around this afternoon.” His wife wiped her hands clean and placed an appetizing bowl of meat broth onto the table. “They said His Highness wants you to go to King’s City, and a boat will come in two days to escort you there.”
“Isn’t he going there to confront his brother? Why would he want me there? What a complete waste of time,” said Kyle with a frown. “It’ll take at least a week’s journey. His demands are really going too far.”
“He’s your prince, Lord of the City of Neverwinter, dear,” said Cerra, shaking her head with a smile. “Also, City Hall’s officials said that he wrote you a personal letter to show how important this trip was. That’s quite an honor, isn’t it? You should keep this letter safe after you finish reading it, so we can probably pass it on as a family heirloom.”
“Family heirloom? If only it were the complete edition of ‘Intermediate Chemistry’.” Kyle curled his lip. “Let’s discuss this after dinner… He’d better have a good reason.”
After his simple meal, he ducked into his study and opened the envelope.
A small strip of paper as long as a finger fell out. This was obviously a secret letter sent by a carrier pigeon, which was then placed in an envelope by the City Hall officials.
Kyle used one hand to press the paper and the other to fumble around the table for his monocle and placed it on the bridge of the nose. Due to reading over a long period of time under faint candlelight, his vision was getting worse day by day. Luckily, his life in the town has been improved a lot, and he could light five or six candles at a time in his office, but he did not know when his house could be installed with the kind of bright lights that lit up the chemical plant.
There was only one short sentence on the strip of paper:
“Do you still remember the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City? Now it’s your chance to show them what the real alchemy is.”
Kyle gasped.
The Alchemist Workshop of King’s City was the ultimate dream position for all aspiring alchemists who searched for the truth of all things, and he was no exception when young.
Only his wife knew that he had once applied to the Alchemist Workshop of the King’s City. He had planned to gain admission using the “gold-dissolving liquid” that he had invented by himself at the age of 20. However, Kyle’s formula unexpectedly failed during the review process, and he could not produce the smoking brown acid liquor even after two attempts. The reviewing alchemist Retnin was outraged and accused Kyle of intentionally wasting the Workshop’s valuable ingredients. He denied Kyle a third try and even ordered the guards to seize his purse and kick him out.
Outside the Workshop, Retnin coldly tossed five silver royals from the purse to Kyle, saying that he should buy a trip back to Redwater City, while the rest of the purse was compensation for the Workshop’s loss. He left as soon as he was done talking, leaving Kyle with only rejection and a great shame. This left a gaping scar in his heart, and he never told anyone about it except his wife.
Kyle returned to Redwater City full of rage, but he continued to pursue alchemy and spent all his time in his workshop, trying to find a new formula to prove the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City wrong. Finally, after ten years, when he was 30 years old, he developed a second formula. For this reason, he was promoted as an alchemist in Redwater City. It took him another six years to become the chair.
Kyle had always viewed the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City as his greatest enemy, and he interacted with them a couple times in his work, as well. But their alchemists were always extremely haughty and did not recognize any other alchemist organizations except their own. They believed that Redwater City’s alchemists were only as good as their apprentices and students and did not deserve the title of an alchemist. Their supposedly newfound alchemy formulas were mostly discovered by the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City dozen years ago.
The Workshop chair even said other cities did not need to build alchemical workshops because this line of work required a great amount of money and manpower, which regular lords could not afford at all. If people needed the help of alchemists, they could seek it directly from King’s City. If the lords invested tens of thousands of gold royals into their own workshops, they would probably make no progress with the end of a bunch of useless men.
Embarrassingly, Kyle knew that only the Alchemic Workshop of Redwater City saw the workshop of King’s City as a competitor, but the latter did not care about him at all. He was overjoyed by his success in the double-stone acid-making method and the production of crystal glass because he could produce large amounts of valuable acid with the former, and the latter was the most highly demanded alchemic product on the market. Even the proud Alchemist Workshop could not ignore his two accomplishments.
In an unexpected and theatrical turn of events, Roland Wimbledon of Border Town found him and opened his eyes to a whole world of possibilities with “Elementary Chemistry”.
From then on, Kyle realized that everything he had learned was meaningless. The alchemy itself was a backward practice and doomed for extinction, while a new path of exploration lay ahead of him—this time, the relationship
between all things was no longer murky, but clear and organized. His past squabbles were also pointless, and he let go of his vendetta with the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City and the formulas that had taken him so much effort to develop.
It’s reasonable to do so.
However, when His Highness mentioned this word again, Kyle Sichi’s heart still raced, and an indescribable excitement crept back into his heart.
Kyle’s mind recalled the cold figure, the muddy silver royals, the door that slammed shut, and the outrageous claim that there was no need for other alchemic workshops except the Alchemist Workshop of King’s City to exist.
“Now it’s your chance to show them what the real alchemy is.”
Kyle scanned the strip of paper one last time, stood up, and walked out of his office. “Cerra…”
He paused in the middle of his sentence and noticed that his wife was bending over, packing his clothes into an open bag in the living room.
“What’s this?”
“It’s for your journey to King’s City. I knew that even if His Highness didn’t write you a letter, you’d still go,” said Cerra with a smile. “Do you still remember the stories you told me? There are things that you’re owed in that city.”
Kyle stared at her blankly for a while and then burst out in laughter.
“Take good care of our home. I have to pay a visit to King’s City.”