Like that, the term continued. One of Margaret’s points had been that Jeb was generally too willing to go without interacting with his friends. In light of that, he made a point of planning to meet up with Catherine, Declan, and Annabeth at least once a week for a meal. He had invited Philip and Margaret as well, but both had refused his offer.
“I do not think it appropriate for me to socialize with you,” she had said, “given that I am still assigned as your Librarian. When you graduate from the Academy, however, I would be happy to share a meal.” Jeb wasn’t sure entirely what part of etiquette required them not to socialize together, especially given their conversations in the Stacks. Still, it was clear that she did not want to get breakfast with him, so he did not push the issue.
Philip, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic about the invitation before his own face fell. “I don’t have a schedule that lines up with your own,” he explained. Seeing Jeb’s confusion, he continued, “the Library has a system for training where hopeful Librarians are randomly assigned their tasks at random intervals. When I find my schedule, I would be happy to search for a period you are also free for a meal, but I cannot guarantee that they will happen with any regularity.”
“I understand,” Jeb replied half truthfully. Privately, a part of him was grateful that he only had three breakfast appointments a week. As much as he did deeply value his relationships with his friends, a part of him always felt like he was playing a role in front of them. When he had asked a few questions obliquely asking whether his friends felt the same way, they did not respond as though they felt like they were performing when they interacted with others. Or, rather, they did, but in a way that seemed fundamentally different from how Jeb meant it.
On days that he did not have a meeting set up, he took to bringing a notebook to the cafeteria with him, so that he could think through ideas that he had. As he kept reading through the Druidic Plant book, he saw a number of references to Druidic Rituals and other pieces of information that were clearly only transmitted orally. Frustrating as it was to know that there were well known facts he would have to rediscover on his own, Jeb was beginning to feel confident in his ability to grow at least a few different Druidic Plants. He planned to spend the term break working to prepare a space to grow Fireleaf.
For whatever reason, Jeb had felt a special connection to the plant since the first time they used it in Introduction to Alchemy. Whenever the plant had been needed for an Alchemical, he found that the entire process went slightly more smoothly. It was strange, especially since his Class had initially been given to him explicitly to fight a creature of Fire.
Even though Jeb tried his hardest to forget that he had been given a Major Quest, it was still a reality he knew that he would need to start dealing with at some point. More than a few members of the military had already come by the Academy with their own versions of the Major Quest, looking for a Mage that was supposed to be enrolled there. Thankfully, the Academy had a strict policy of not revealing information about its students to the military. If it hadn’t been for that, Jeb was certain that he would have been conscripted already. Every time that the thought came to his mind, he shooed it away. He had enough issues without adding the existential threat of a Dragon to the mix.
Over the course of the term, he had grown more and more adept at feeling out the Essence in a material. As Professor Quicksilver had said, the Essence and Attunement for almost every reagent they used was more or less identical. However, as the term progressed, some of the Alchemicals they made started to have Essences which differed from the feeling of Magic they gave off.
Each time that there was a difference, Jeb felt like there should have been a way to explain where the divergence happened in a more satisfying way than simply “an Alchemist did it.” He knew that Professor Quicksilver had the same frustration with the field, which may have been part of why the two got along so well. He and Jeb spent the hours before each Alchemy class session discussing their own hypotheses for the underlying cause. Or, rather, the two spent the hours before each class session with Jeb proposing a hypothesis and Professor Quicksilver giving an example to disprove it.
Jeb had been disheartened at first to find that Quicksilver had already thought of most of the explanations he gave. He quickly got over that feeling. After all, not only had Quicksilver been studying the question for longer than Jeb had been alive, but he was more or less Jeb’s sole source of Alchemy information. Of course the Professor who taught him would have traveled down the same mental routes that he pursued. Once he had reframed the activity, Jeb found that it was far more enjoyable.
Every so often, he did come up with an idea that was no closer than a variation on an idea the Professor had tested. Those fell just as quickly, though they often required Quicksilver to consult his notes. Annabeth had come to participate once and left within minutes.
When they had their next breakfast, Jeb asked where she had gone.
“Jeb,” she said, “I need you to know that I have never been a part of a conversation that I wanted to be in less. I’m not saying that to be mean, I just have no interest in learning how Essences work. What’s the point in figuring out how similar they are to the Attunement of Mana within an object?”
Jeb struggled to answer the question. “I don’t really think I understand,” he said after a long moment. “Figuring out how similar Essence is to the Attunement of Mana is the point?”
“What can you do with that?”
“Nothing?” Jeb answered carefully. “But that’s true of most of what I’ve learned in the Academy. It’s knowledge for its own sake.”
“That is not true in the least!” Annabeth objected. “Every Alchemical we have made in the course can be sold at a high markup to the military. Based on what you’ve told me about your Intermediate Lute course, you could use what you’ve learned in it to busk, at the very least. Even your Weaving independent study gives you the skills you need to make woven cloth!”
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“Right, but I won’t,” Jeb countered. “For me, personally, knowing how Essences work is just as practical.”
She shrugged, clearly done with the topic, “and that’s probably why you enjoy those discussions with the Professor so much more than I did.”
The two sat in silence for a few moments as they continued eating their breakfast.
“Have you had a chance to study for the final examination?” she asked, moving the conversation forward.
“For Introduction to Alchemy?” Jeb asked, clarifying.
Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, for the course that both of us are enrolled in together, Introduction to Alchemy.”
Jeb shrugged. “All we have to do is make Distilled Water. I found the Schematic for an Enchantment that does almost all of the work a few weeks ago. It was pretty easy to make, for all that it didn’t really make much of a difference.”
“I feel like there are a number of things we need to unpack in that sentence,” Annabeth said. “Let’s go in the order that makes sense to me. First, what did it not make a difference for?”
“Oh!” Jeb replied happily, “I tried making Distilled Water without the Enchantment afterwards, since the process seemed relatively simple. As it turns out, it is a very straightforward process.”
Annabeth let out a sigh. “When were you going to tell me that you already knew how to make Distilled Water?”
Jeb’s brows furrowed. “I told you that I was trying to recreate the Alchemical Fire effects that I had read about. Where did you think that I was getting the Distilled Water for that?”
She stared at him for a long moment.
“Did I say something wrong?” Jeb asked.
“Jeb,” she said slowly, “are you telling me that you have been making every batch of Alchemical Fire with Distilled Water and Fireleaf?”
“Yes?” Jeb replied hesitantly, “how else would I have made it?”
“Any of the other hundred or so recipes in a standard Alchemical Manual, or any of the thousand or so recipes in the extended editions,” she suggested.
“The what?” Jeb asked, excited. “I didn’t know there was a standard Alchemical Manual.”
She froze. “What do you mean? How have you been studying for the course?”
“I’ve been reading the syllabus? What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been reading the syllabus and comparing the directions to the ones listed in the standard Alchemical Manual! What do you do when the syllabus doesn’t explain what the process is?”
“It never does that,” Jeb said. The conversation devolved from there, and the two left to go about their days. Jeb made his way to the Library, where he immediately went to the circulation desk. Kaitlyn looked up with a quizzical expression.
“Good morning, Jeb, how can I help you?” she asked, tone slightly confused.
“Would it be possible for me to check out a standard Alchemical Manual?” Jeb asked, overly casually.
She sat up a little straighter, muttering, “I had wondered when this would come up.” In a louder voice, she continued, “that depends a lot on what you mean by possible.”
“May I check out an Alchemical Manual?” Jeb asked, reframing his question.
“Professor Quicksilver has requested that you do not check one out,” she said. “He has said as much in the his Instructor’s Notes. Technically, he is unable to prevent you from checking out any specific material, as he is not a formal advisor of yours. Nonetheless, I would recommend that you listen to his request, at least until you have asked him why he made it.”
“Wait,” Jeb said, “one of my classmates said that she had an Alchemical Manual, and she didn’t say anything about Quicksilver requesting we not check one out.”
“I apologize for the lack of clarity,” Kaitlyn said, “Professor Quicksilver requested that you, in specific, would not have access to an Alchemical Manual.”
Jeb frowned but said nothing else as he walked out of the Library. Without knowing exactly where Professor Quicksilver’s office was, he wasn’t entirely sure if he would be able to find it. After all, he reasoned, without knowing where Dean Aquam’s office is in the forest, there is no way that I would be able to find the clearing. Still, he wandered, hopeful that Quicksilver might have an easier to find office.
To his relief, he came across a row of doors, each labeled with a Professor’s name. After walking for a few minutes, he came across one labeled “Professor Quicksilver.” Jeb knocked on the door.
He heard something crash from behind the door.
“One moment!” Quicksilver’s voice came from near the sound. As Jeb waited, the crash changed into something that sounded like a roaring fire, then transitioned into the smell of a waterfall. Just as he was beginning to grow concerned, the door opened a crack, and Professor Quicksilver peered out.
“Jeb?” he asked, frowning. “You have never come to my office before.”
Jeb heard the unasked question. “I found out two things today,” he said.
“Oh!” the door opened wider. “Come in! What wonderful facts are you now privy to?” It was clear from his tone that he had no idea what Jeb was here to talk to him about.
“I don’t know if I would call them wonderful,” Jeb said, taking a seat in the offered chair. “Annabeth,” he paused, seeing the look of confusion quickly flit across Quicksilver’s brow, “one of my classmates in Introduction to Alchemy, told me that there is a book called an Alchemical Manual. That was news to me, in large part because I have not heard of one before, despite the fact that I requested a number of books related to Alchemy this term. When I asked the Library about the omission, they told me that you had said that I, in particular, was not allowed to check out an Alchemical Manual. Why?”
Quicksilver nodded, smile faltering slightly at Jeb’s rapid accusation. “Of course,” he said, voice still confident. “I am certain you know why, if you take a step back to think about it.”
Jeb did his best to set aside his emotions for a moment to consider the question. Try as he might, though, he could not find a reason. He shook his head and answered after a few minutes of consideration, “I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t think of a reason.”
“I suppose that it would be difficult for you to understand the issue inherent to reading an Alchemical Manual without having ever seen one.” He hummed aimlessly. “Let me think,” he said distractedly, hands reaching out in front of him.
Jeb sat entranced as lights and sounds began to coalesce around the Professor’s hands. It was clear that Quicksilver was doing something, but what, exactly, he was doing remained a mystery. As the light and sound show continued, Jeb wondered whether the Professor was simply conjuring an Alchemical Manual out of thin air.
Almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, the light and sounds vanished.
“Yes,” Professor Quicksilver said, “I do think that the benefits of you learning why you should not use an Alchemical Manual outweigh the harms of you seeing one.”
Exactly how that seeming contradiction made sense, Jeb was unsure. Still, when the Professor lifted a small but thick tome onto the desk, Jeb was entranced.
The cover was a deep blue, bordering on purple. It was clearly not made of leather, and almost seemed to have been bound in stone. On the front, embossed and colored in a deep red, it simply said “Alchemical Manual.”
“Now this is not a standard Alchemical Manual,” Professor Quicksilver explained, “it is my own private one. However, I have followed the typical conventions for crafting an Alchemical Manual. Please look at the entry for Alchemical Fire.”
He handed the book to Jeb, who eagerly opened the tome and flipped through to the entry on Alchemical Fire.