“Of all the disciplines that can be taught it is alchemy that cleaves closest to the true nature of magic. Now I know every school of thought claims itself to be the one supreme metric by which all must be measured so let me say this first. There are things alchemy cannot do, a master alchemist will not best a master mage inside their own field, or possible even outside it, but what we do in these labs is magic in its purest form. We take that which cleaves to the laws of nature and we alter it irrevocably. Turning the chemical into the alchemical.

“One of the great secrets of alchemy, the thing that makes it so powerful, is that it is reproducible. It is its greatest strength and its greatest weakness. The caster’s will is made irrelevent, a drawback even, a pyromancer’s anger providing hotter flame will just ruin your potion, a cryomancer’s terrible calm will simply shatter the rather expensive glasswork. To that end we have gone to great lengths to take the mage out of alchemy with the equipment you see before you. Even a mortal with the correct amount of crystallized mana could produce the exact same results as an archmage.

“Now normally I would spend this first lesson just going over the safety protocols of the lab, especially given we lost the extra half hour I normally put aside. However I have been advised to make some minor adjustments to my curriculum.”

That was a lie and a half, Mortimer had less made adjustments and more dumped the entire thing down into the sewers after setting it on fire. And regretted the decision the moment the Elixir of Confidence had worn off, but he’d been halfway through setting the lab up by that point with no time to reset things.

He didn’t blame Merida for not thinking of this. The Archmage of Myriad Arts might have been an acknowledged master of more magical arts than any mage living or otherwise but she was still at heart a necromancer, and so she would always give answers that relied on necromancy where possible. To her alchemy and artificery were tools to enhance necromancy rather than paths in their own right.

But if Alec and Holly were the terrified children she thought they were, well then… alchemy was the great equalizer. If they needed safety to knuckle down and study properly then he would give them safety. Literally.

“In light of your medical difficulties I have provided crystallized mana to power the equipment.” And that was not going to be fun to put on the budget, the liches being as stingy as they were with the stuff. “You will both spend today making you both a tincture of resilience using the instructions provided. If you have any questions, any at all, you will bring them to me immediately. Once you have the tincture, and I cannot stress this enough, do not under any circumstance drink it. A tincture is by definition an alcohol based solution and I can assure you that there is no situation where a little extra hardiness will not be outweighed by the drunkenness.”

Technically potions produced in the lab were supposed to be handed in to be added to the Necropolis, and the Council of Mages, stores of potions or, in the more likely case at this early stage, disposed of safely… or, in cases of truly spectacular failure, added to the Necropolis or Council of Mages stores of rare poisons. A policy he fervently agreed with, apprentice necromancers were foolhardy enough without the ability to walk around with weapons grade magic-in-a-bottle.

It was why he’d chosen the tincture, because it was hard to find a genuinely dangerous use case for it; it wasn’t an offensive weapon, intended to be drunk, nor had particularly harmful effects if imbibed regardless.

The tincture’s intended application was as a temporary protector of clothing, with the cloth retaining its unnatural toughness until the alcoholic solution had evaporated into the air.

Sometimes, Mortimer had to admit to his unelixered self, magical confidence produced good ideas.

*

“So what do you think happens if we stir it with the staff?” Holly mused as she painstakingly and painfully ground the tiny amount of manticore claw needed in a small mortar and pestle. It was tiring work and her arms were burning with exertion. Not the lactic acid of human exercise but mana exhaustion where she wasn’t able to replenish it fast enough in the weary limbs.

“Nothing boring.” Alec guessed dryly. The teenager was very carefully measuring out the powdered crystallized mana needed to heat the small vial bent over a desk with the measuring spoon about an inch from his face, looking like a bizarre predatory insect where the thick protective goggle they were being being forced to wear were mishaping his profile.

It was easily the most dangerous part of the process, not because the stuff was liable to explode but because a mismeasurement would when put in the heater result in either an unusable potion (if too little) or a burning ceiling (if too much).

Mortimer had helpfully underlined in red the sections which could be dangerous, some twice. The section for the heating element he’d essentially coloured in.

Much to their watching teacher’s pleasure Alec double checked that the weighing scales, a fiddly contraption at the best of the times, were not just calibrated but that the result was in the margin of error. The joys of a student who’d seen life outside of the Necropolis, they knew just how dangerous magic could be and showed it the proper respect.

“What’s the next step?” He asked as he carefully loaded the powdered mana into the compartment at the base of the odd cylinder that according to the diagrams would, when the command word was said while its base was held, produce flames to heat the beaker into which Holly was scraping the manticore claws.

“Alcohol.” The dryad said simply, “Though it doesn’t say whether to use beer or wine.”

“Neither.” Mortimer interjected with a small smile, drawing their attention back to him as he walked to the supplies closet and retrieved a flask of clear liquid. “This is pure alcohol. Do not drink it. Do not get it near a direct flame. And try not to spill it on you. It won’t cause any permanent harm, but it will leave you with irritatingly dry skin if not washed off quickly. And if I ever catch any of you using it to mix your own drinks then may the hells help you.”

That said he delicately placed the thick glass flask on the table and stepped back to let them continue.

“Okay. So it says fifty millilitres of alcohol. It also says to put on a facemask before heating due to fumes.” Holly said, raising her voice as she directed her following question to Mortimer. “Does that still count for dryads?”

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“Probably.” The alchemist hedged.

Alec ignored the byplay, carefully measuring out the amount of undiluted alcohol into a measuring beaker – a vast upgrade on the by-eye methods he’d seen used up to now – and trying not choke or gag at the overpowering sweat smell. “Next?”

“Ironwood oil. Five mililitres. But it doesn’t say what sort of ironwood…”

Again Mortimer came to the rescue. “While ironwood is a catchall term for certain hardwoods, in alchemy it refers to a specific species of magically altered tree that leeches iron from the soil to produce an axeproof bark. Grows extra well in bloody soil or above abandoned iron mines. The oil is in the third cabinet on your left. No hazards associated.”

The teenager dutifully retrieved the oil and measured it out before adding it to the mixture, stirring it with a steel rod as Holly turned on the heat. “What now?"

“Stir withershins until the manticore claw turns grey. What on Reath is withershins?”

“Counter-clockwise.” Their teacher replied swiftly.

Holly gave a quick nod of acknowledgement before continuing to read aloud. “Then heat it, without letting it boil, until the claw dissolves.” Holly read aloud. “Then just let it cool. Honestly seems worryingly simple.”

“Because it is.” Mortimer chimed in, “I mean the magical theory is a little bit more complex, but pretty much anyone can follow a recipe. The hard part of most alchemy is sourcing the ingredients. This is fairly easy, manticores are a regular pest and ironwood is not in short supply, but the really interesting stuff requires nonsense like a lotus that blooms only at night, dew that was struck by the sun of Avalon and dragon’s heartsblood.”

“That’s all fascinating… but what if a person was stirring clockwise before they heard the instruction?” Alec asked slowly.

“Absolutely nothing. I wouldn’t give a recipe with that level of finickiness to beginners.” Their teacher assured them, “But let that be a lesson to you. No matter how obvious the next step seems, check anyway.”

“Why does the direction of stirring affect things?” Holly asked, leaned back in her chair as she let Alec check if the claw had turned grey yet.

Alchemist Mortimer’s laugh was surprisingly bitter. “I could tell you about the latent mana from the ironwood oil leeching into the claw and adding to its preexisting power, the way the defensive mana transforms and diffuses when it’s met by fire mana… but the stirring? We have absolutely no idea why stirring direction changes things. As far as we can tell it’s completely arbitrary that it has an effect.”

“To be honest I was expecting a lot more of that sort of teaching.” Alec admits as he looked up from the beaker. “Claw’s grey. Do you want to control the burner or should I?”

“I will.” Holly declared, sliding down from her chair so they could swap places.

“And there would be if you were going into experimental alchemy.” Mortimer told him, “But the sad truth is you just don’t need to know it otherwise. All a good alchemist needs to do is know the lab processes, good lab safety and the recipes. Most lessons will just be more complicated versions of this, that and maybe the odd trip to source ingredients if you decide you both want to become wandering mages.”

“Trips to where?” Alec asked curiously, neither he nor Holly had expected semi-regular excursions from the Necropolis, Erebus and Natalya had mostly made it sound like a never-ending cycle of studying and combat training.

“Well you’re still in your first year so nothing too dangerous. Maybe hunting for wisps in Bleakmire Vale, excavating verilith from one of the abandoned mines or a monster hunt of some kind – with heavy supervision.”

“And the later years…?”

“Oh the later years get crazy. Scavenging the Wraith Vaults for wraith dust, a trip through Avalon – with an armed bodyguard of Gardeners, Shields and Slayers – oh what else…? Oh yeah there’s a trip to one of the local hells where you’ll be expected to bottle and distil hellfire.”

“How do you distil fire?” Alec asked while watching Holly manage her own flame, the magical fire enveloping the flask in a dim red fire.

“Magic.” Mortimer answered dryly. “Also you’re going to want to lower the flame a bit more Holly.”

“Understood.” Holly said, placing her hand back on the burner and, with a little focus, making the flame smaller.

“So uh… what’s the plan for the rest of the lesson… sir?”

“There’s no need for a sir. I’m just Mortimer.” The alchemist laughed. “And I figured we’d go over your options when it comes for next lesson… something that uses new equipment or methods. Honestly you seem to both take things seriously enough that I expect we can bump you up into Advanced Alchemy with the other advanced students in just a few months.”

Alec started at that, “So soon…? I would have thought we’d be way further behind.”

“Oh you are. But it really is just being able to follow instructions precisely, having steady hands and knowing when to dive behind a blast screen. The main difference between advanced and basic alchemy is that you get open access to the labs and the ingredients we use in the lessons are a lot more expensive. That and if there’s a major crisis you might get called in to make emergency potions. The moment I feel safe certifying you as able to use the equipment, you’re in.”

“How major is a major crisis? On a scale from say…” Alec sought some kind of baseline for a minor incident, “dead village to demon queen?”

“Anything that could threaten a fortified town.” Mortimer answered without hesitation. “Roving ghoul clan, blütkind, rogue minor elemental, leviathan within thirty miles of the coast, that sort of thing.”

“How does a leviathan being close threaten a town?” The teen asked bemusedly. “Aren’t they just like really big fish?”

“I don’t think you quite grasp how much work ‘really big’ is doing in that statement. When you first see a leviathan you won’t even register it as a living being, you’ll just think you’ve come in sight of land. They’re tens of miles long, have armour so thick that nothing has ever penetrated it – not in the entire history of Reath. Just the water displacement alone means a leviathan getting that close has every coastal town nearby is getting swamped, and that’s ignoring its attendant species which are the real threat.”

“Do I even want to know?” Alec sighed.

“Probably not, but I’ve started explaining so I might as well finish.” Mortimer stated. “Leviathans can’t go on land, but they’ve developed a number of symbiotic relationships with other predator species which can and will retrieve food for them. Razor gulls are probably the most blatant threat, which is a shame as pretty much every ounce of the blighted things are a boon for alchemy. But there are a number of other threats – some of them just fleeing the leviathan. Harpoon snails, titan whelks, landsharks...” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of more monsters from the deep.

“I have no idea what any of those are.”

“You will.” Mortimer promised. “Knowing how to identify and break down a monster into its alchemically valuable parts is a vital skill, and one where Necropolis trained alchemists excel given the need to regularly handle bodies.”

“Potion’s done.” Holly interjected, calmly pouring the lightly glowing steely tincture into a fresh bottle and stoppering it.

“Let me have a look.” Their teacher commanded, accepting the bottle and peering into the translucent liquid. “Now this is very important. Under no circumstance do what you’re about to see me do.” That said he removed the stopper and took a sniff, putting it down swiftly and restoppering it as a coughing fit overtook him. “Yep, that’s mixed correctly. Good job.”

Holly raised an eyebrow at that display, the dryad wasn’t an expert on these sorts of things but she was almost certain that huffing potion fumes wasn’t the sort of thing that was even meant to need a warning. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely fantastic.” Mort assured them both, while covering his mouth to block out the occasional cough. “Just checking you hadn’t boiled it all into vinegar by accident. You’re good.”

“Vinegar?” The dryad asked bemusedly.

“Oh yes, too much heat, or leave it exposed to the air long enough, and you’re going to turn alcohol into vinegar.” He informed her as he handed back the phial, “That’s probably the hardest part of alchemy. Balancing the non-magical effects of what you’re doing with them magical ones. Some alchemists have even begun ignoring the magical effects entirely, they’re calling it chemy. Now let me review a few recipes and we’ll decide what your next lesson should involve...”