Alchemy meant taking useless things and forging them into great potions, ointments, and elixirs.

I still remember when I was a child, and my father tried to teach me how to sing. Both my parents were high-level [Bards] who went around singing and playing for some of the richest families in Epretos while also taking Adventurers’ jobs here and there.

And they tried with all their might to teach me to sing.

...

14 Years Prior

"Come on, baby, you can do it! Hold the note!"

My mother loved me so much and always tried to teach me how to sing.

"La-laaaaaaa..."

Inevitably, my voice broke, and I looked at her with curious eyes. I was never sure if I was doing well just by looking at my mother. She would always smile at me with her large eyes and hug me at the end of every singing attempt.

"Oh, baby, it's... we still have to work on that."

As I spent time in her arms, I noticed the strong smell of roses that made me sneeze a few times. This was the scent my father had bought for her for several golds, and even though he had told her to keep it for great occasions only, my mother loved to spray it on herself in the middle of the day, even when she was not doing anything important.

She was just like that. She loved the perfumes, the make-up, and the jewels that came with her line of work. She was a [Dancer] and a [Thespian].

My mother gently pulled away from our embrace and began to sing a soft, beautiful melody. Her voice seemed to float through the air, filling the room with warmth.

"Every step you take, my little one,

I'll be there by your side,

Guiding you with love and light,

Through life's flowing tide."

Her voice was like a soothing balm, and the song was the one she had composed especially for me. I could feel the love she poured into each note, and it made my young heart swell with emotion.

I wished I could sing so bad.

My eyes welled up with tears, and my mother tenderly wiped them away with her gentle touch.

"Never fear, my dear Truffles,

For I'll always be near,

To share in your laughter,

And chase away your fears."

As she finished the last note, my mother leaned down and pressed a tender kiss onto my forehead.

"Tullia," my father's crystalline voice resounded at my back, "I think it’s fine if he can’t sing, you know? Right, bud?” He ruffled my hair while I was still in my mother’s lap. “You don’t have to follow in our steps. And he is still too young to have a class anyway."

Every word he spoke was deliberate and intonated, as if he was about to start singing at any moment. He was a [Bard] and a [Singer], or a mix of the two. And he also did things with swords, although, at the time, I didn’t quite understand what.

They sang together, and my mother performed dances or impersonated stories while my father sang.

"Chrysantus, shut your filthy mouth!" My mother thundered, hugging me even tighter. "He's going to learn how to sing!"

"My beautiful princess of gold and silver, why don't we let him decide?" His voice was like a cascade of flowers, sweeter than the perfumes he often bought my mother.

My father bent his knees and brushed one of the gold locks I inherited from him behind my ear. "Truffles," he said with a powerful, calming voice, one of his skills for when things started to go south at banquets and taverns, "do you want to sing?"

I could feel my mother's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, and I nodded slowly. Words didn't always come easily to me, unlike my parents.

"Truffles," my father gently grabbed my shoulders. "Don't be afraid of your mother. Do you really want to sing? If you don't, it's fine. We can always teach you later in life. You know that your mother used to wash clothes until she was twent—"

"Chrysantus!"

"Love of my life, please. He's not a fool. Let him be. Right, Truffles?"

I slowly nodded.

My father's touch was like fresh bread, fragrant and filling.

"So, do you want to sing?"

I looked at my father, his beautiful traits amplified by his class, with cheekbones as sharp as a knife and eyes as blue as pure sapphires.

I shrugged.

Slowly, my father raised his eyes to look at my mother. I heard a sob from behind. She released me to my father’s embrace, and there were several steps resounding as my mother ran to the room given to them by the [Lord] of that place.

We were in a nobleman’s residence at the time. It wasn't unusual for them to be invited by wealthy patrons and provided with generous salaries, as well as all the comforts usually reserved for nobility.

"I told our patron I used to dabble in Alchemy because your grandpa was an [Alchemist]. Do you want to come with me and take a look at his workshop?"

I nodded, excited.

“You miss grandpa, don’t you?”

I did.

I hugged my father tightly in response.

My grandpa had shown me how amazing Alchemy could be. And he had always been very nice to me—he used to take care of me whenever my parents were on missions from the Adventurers’ Guild.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Plus, whenever I stayed at his place, or we passed by an [Alchemist]'s shop, I could always smell so many new things. And while most were unpleasant, some carried a medicinal smell so potent that I even passed out a few times. It took time for me to start appreciating it, but I did.

It reminded me of grandpa.

He was able to smell things the same way I did. But he said my nose was much better than his—and that my father’s was terrible. Every day, he would repeat how Chrysantus, his son, had a terrible talent for Alchemy.

He has a pretty voice, at least, he always said, sighing.

And so, being around [Alchemists] had been very normal for me when I was just a little child. And those places always smelled like secret repositories of wonder.

Taverns and banquets carried the smell of alcohol sticking to wood; visiting the streets, no matter how clean, always brought an unpleasant sensation of dust and urine with it.

[Farmers], unlike what my mother said while we traveled the countryside, smelled actually much better than a [Blacksmith]'s soot and dirt. Pigs were much more pleasant to my nose than horses, for example. Horses were sweaty and smelly, whereas pigs loved to roll in the ground, but they were not dirty. They just smelled like earth.

...

"We have your [Lord]'s permission to visit the workshop. I thought I would show it to my son. Is that a problem?"

A mean-looking [Guard] who smelled like rusty door hinges nodded at my father. "Milord is in there, sir. He just finished. I will relay your request; please, wait here."

As the armored man walked through the door and closed it behind him, a caught whiff of potent herbs and the dizzying traces of alchemy.

My father held my hand and squeezed it a few times, a silent question to me. He was asking if I was okay. I nodded while still looking at the door, willing with my entire self that it would just open and let me into the most interesting playground.

"Chrysantus!" A booming voice made me jump as the [Lord] of the castle opened the door and welcomed my father with a huge smile on his face.

My mom had told me that the nobility loved having high-level performers around and being able to call them for important celebrations. She had said it was a sign of authority and power, as well as connections.

"Hyacinthus," my father said affectionately, placing a hand on the shoulder of the [Lord], something that the [Guard] on the side looked at with suspicion. "This is my son, Truffles.”

"Oh my, Chrysantus! He's a handsome young boy!" The [Lord] spoke again with his very irritating loudness. What I had not expected was that he would crouch and stare me right in the eyes. I took a few steps back, and my father cleared his throat.

"He's shy, Hyacinthus. Don't mind him."

"Oh, I would never! He has your eyes, my friend!"

"Also, if you could lower your voice a little," my father explained with his soothing tone.

"Oh, my bad, my bad," the [Lord] got up and spoke with a tone that was closer to normal. "Sometimes, I forget how rude I can be. I wouldn’t want to insult one of the most brilliant adventurers, on track to becoming a Named one soon!”

My father simply laughed at that.

“So, I've been told you finally wanted to visit my workshop," he said while looking at the [Guard] by his side with a nod that apparently meant the [Guard] could walk away.

"My father was an [Alchemist], and I think Truffles here would enjoy if you could show him some of what you do here. I hope we are not imposing too much."

"Chrysantus," the [Lord] sighed. "If my wife allows me to spend so much time holed up in here, it's only because I can afford your services, and you show up to my house every time she throws another fit. I would never risk offending you. Otherwise, I would have to start meditating on how to throw the [Lady] of the castle from the highest tower and straight into the lake."

"[Lady] Concepta is a boon on your line, Hyacinthus. Don't joke like that. You know how fortunate you are. Between you and me, I have no idea how you convinced her to marry you."

"Me neither!" The [Lord] erupted into a roaring laugh. "You would think I'd be able to craft love potions, right? I wish! Oh, sorry, little one. Right, right. Let me not scream anymore."

The [Lord] noticed me cringing and stopped shouting.

"Please, both of you, come in, come in."

As my father brought me inside, I saw the ceiling suddenly go much higher than in any other part of the castle. Everything was made of grey stone, and my father had to pull me up before I fell on my back.

"Is everything alright?" The [Lord] shot concerned looks between my father and me.

"He has an extremely strong sense of smell, my boy. My father had the same nose. Truffles—he gets overwhelmed when he’s close to [Alchemists]. Still beats me why he loves it so much."

I started skipping from one leg to the other, looking at a bunch of stone tables with weird glass bottles all over them.

"Can I touch them?" I asked, my voice squeaking from excitement.

"Of course, my boy! But be careful not to break anything, alright?"

I was so stoked I barely registered the man’s booming voice.

The [Lord] didn't have to tell me twice, and I started examining each bottle immediately, wondering what they were for.

"Can I touch this one?" I asked, pointing at a small silver cauldron on a stone table. "Of course, my boy!"

I ran my fingers along the cold surface, and a sudden tingling sensation made me take my hand away.

"What was that?" I asked, looking at my father.

"I think you just got a little Mana shock," the [Lord] explained. "It happens with enchanted silver sometimes. Don't worry about it."

"Do you see this one?" The [Lord] asked me, holding up a green bottle in front of my face. "This is a powerful acid. You don't want to open this one."

I shook my head vigorously as my mouth went wide open again and again.

I looked at the silver cauldron again, inhaled deeply, and was finally able to separate it from the rest of the workshop. It smelled different than the other cauldrons. Heavier, like when [Blacksmiths] worked with metal.

"There's a Hydra's blood essence mixed in with the silver in the cauldron you are looking at. I paid through the nose for it. Imagine convincing one of those Hydra fellows to cede their own life essence, right, Chrysantus?"

"Not even I could convince one," my father laughed amiably. "What do you need it for?"

That was when the [Lord] put on a conspiratorial smirk.

“[Alchemists] and [Blacksmiths] have been working together since time immemorial. Silver can only be used for some potions because it leaks into the potions. However, if you use the essence blood of a Hydra together with their most famous herb, Hydraria Venefica, and mix in the aged roots of Hecatea Invicta and the flowers of Helleborus Tenebrosus, the silver becomes inert. That's why I mix the most potent concoctions in it. It's going to be a part of the heritage I'll leave behind to my children."

As I kept smelling the cauldron, I suddenly sneezed. Below the sweet smell of silver, I found some other scents. I got closer again, ignoring the tingling I initially felt.

My father and the [Lord] laughed, probably at my nose being barely an inch from the cauldron.

"He really has a good nose, doesn't he?"

"He does," my father said warmly.

As I kept smelling, though, I found that the sweetness I initially mistook for silver came from something else. Suddenly, I felt my stomach churn.

What was that?

I kept smelling it, and I finally recognized the blood while, for some reason, my mouth started salivating.

The blood did not smell of iron like I was used to. It was not like a fresh wound... I had already smelled this before when my family had met with adventurers. It smelled like a festering wound. It smelled like...

Rot.

I took a step back, feeling the instinct to empty my stomach there and then. And the [Lord] looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you alright, my boy?"

I nodded quickly, at a loss for words.

"You sure?" The [Lord] asked with a tone that didn’t sound convinced.

I nodded again and coughed to try and hide the fact that I was still gagging.

"So, what do you think of my workshop?"

I forced a smile on my face and nodded again. The [Lord] beamed at me.

"I'm glad you liked it! Your father’s always told me you were interested in this sort of thing."

"The cauldron..." I started speaking with my stomach still protesting.

"You really liked it, huh? Well, you don't come by treasures like that every day."

"It smells wrong."

"Wrong?" The [Lord] looked at me, stunned.

"The cauldron. It smells bad."

"What do you mean? Like a bad smell?"

"It smells like... like someone died in there."

"Oh, it might just be your nose, boy."

I shake my head. "I—"

"I think this is enough for today, Hyacinthus," my father cut me off.

"But Chrysantus, I was just getting started! I wanted to show your boy all the Mana potions I make! They are my specialty!"

"Truffles is not feeling well. We should go."

"Oh, of course, of course," the [Lord] deflated. "I'm sorry, Truffles. I hope you feel better."

"Thank you for your time, Hyacinthus. We'll come back another day." My father grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the workshop.

“What's wrong?" He asked me as soon as the door closed behind us.

"I don't know," I lied.

"Do not lie to your father, Truffles."

...

The Present

Lies were bad.

I adjusted the peg on my nose and walked away from the camp.

True, lies were bad, and so was stealing—or at least Stan said so. My father used to say all the time that stealing and killing were simple battle tactics.

Stealing or tactic, I just really needed to get my hands on some truffles.

I owed Joey.

So, I started walking toward the Valerii’s forest, slowly intonating my mother’s song off-key.

"Every step you take, my little one,

I'll be there by your side,

Guiding you with love and light,

Through life's flowing tide.

Never fear, my dear Truffles,

For I'll always be near,

To share in your laughter,

And chase away your fears."