The alchemist called Vivian had her shop in the northeastern corner of the town, a zone from which older wood huts had been recently cleared away, but without anything new yet built in their place. The store was located on the ground floor of a three-story apartment, a rectangular, white-chalked brick house, which looked fairly new compared to the other buildings in the neighborhood. But that house was not very skillfully made either. The paint had taken on a yellow tint and was coming off on the corners and edges.

The store itself occupied only a small corner of the whole, with ordinary residences around it. Above the door hung a slightly tilted board saying, “Townsend Alchemy”. I went to the door, hesitant to enter.

It was difficult to judge the nature of the establishment through the narrow, dimmed glass pane on the door, but what I saw was shrouded in darkness. My primal instincts insisted I had made a grave mistake. But I had already accepted the quest, perhaps a tad impulsively, and it was either do or die now.

I seized the handle and went boldly in.

Beside the slim window in the front door, there was a square one in the side wall, but the two alone couldn’t overpower the dark of the otherwise unlit lounge, giving it the feel of a sorcerous den. The floor space was mostly clear, save for a colorful rug spread on it. All the inventory appeared crammed into high shelves alongside the walls. Small paper bags, glass urns and jars. Little wood boxes of unknown contents. I was relieved to note they also carried quite a few ordinary, everyday things: candles, vegetable oil, moisturizing ointments. And...

Homemade soap. Unlike the basic soaps sold at the general goods store, these were scented. There was rose, lemon, mint, raspberry...I eyed the selection with great envy. I was not particularly passionate about soap, or anything, but no self-respecting female citizen wanted to go for weeks on end smelling like lye. It grated on your confidence. But I found the alchemist’s products also cost an arm and a leg. A box of rose soap was a hundred and twenty coppers. What was the thing made of? Dragon hearts? Compressed ether? It was regrettably far outside my budget.

So this is what it was like to be completely broke.

In the back behind the counter sat a young girl.

Somehow both bloodless and freckled, dressed in a baggy, dark robe that veiled her figure from shoulders to feet. Under her neck hung a cord with many little keys attached. Her long, unkempt hair was dyed light purple, and tied up into an oversized bundle in the back. She sat perched on what appeared to be a short ladder, reading a large book.

I approached the counter. The child glanced up at me and flashed a quick smile.

“Hello. Welcome. Did anything catch your eye?”

“Good morning,” I said. “Pardon, but I'm here for the quest posted at the guild. Is the owner available?”

“Oh, of course she is. I am her. Vivian Townsend, at your service. Thank you for coming on such short notice!”

I couldn't help but regard her anew with some surprise. “A child running an alchemy store?”

I was under the impression it took several years of university study to become a potion master.

A somewhat indignant look now came into her eyes.

“Excuse me! I'm not a child!” she declared. “I am a hauflin! This is as tall as I'm ever going to get!”

“Oh, my apologies,” I admitted my mistake. “I was unable to see your ears.”

Since they were covered among the long locks of hair.

Excluding the leafy shape of the ears, there were very few reliable ways to tell a hauflin apart from a common adolescent. If not for the face, which, despite looking overall very childish, missed that certain squishy roundness of human youngs. But you rarely stared at anyone so close and hard. At least, I was not in the habit of ogling at children.

“I am under no obligation to show my ears to you, or anyone,” the alchemist puffed. “And then? Did you understand the contents of the assignment?”

“Something about experiments. If you don't mind, could you explain a bit more about what you actually do here?”

She didn't seem to mind at all. A big smile returned to her face and she rose to stand atop her wooden ladder, spreading her arms wide apart.

“I am very glad you asked! As the sign outside says, I am an alchemist! But not just any run off the mill small town alchemist! A visionary alchemist! Potions that accelerate natural healing? Solutions that restore Power and ease mental fatigue? I care little for such commonplace things! I have my sights set way beyond that, onto the untapped horizon of chemical sciences. I develop solutions these poor people don't even know they need yet! Things that will help us win over the beasts and revolutionize the world!”

“I should tell you now, I have no money,” I raised my hand and interrupted what sounded like a rising sales pitch.

“Rude, that's what you are!” Master Vivian snapped back. “Anyway, I have a couple of new interesting projects underway that are ready for human testing. I do test most of them myself too, of course, but my gut can only handle so much—I mean, not everyone's physique is the same! There are myriads of delicate differences between people and races, which must be taken into account to produce a product fit for public sale. Which is why the more test subjects we have the better.”

“I understand. Then I am to subject myself to these concoctions of yours. How does it work, technically?”

She wasn't going to inject anything into my body direcly, was she?

“Ohh, it's quite simple. Come over here.”

In the corner of the lounge was a small doorway leading to another room behind. It vaguely resembled a kitchen and had a little stone hearth in the corner, with a large cauldron hanging above the heat. In the middle of the floor posed a sturdy table laden with bottles and vials, mortars, bags, books, notes, and some such paraphernalia.

“I have prepared a sample of each new product,” Master Vivian said. “All you need to do is chug them, and describe how you feel after the fact. Easy, isn't it? Is this the easiest assignment in your whole career as an adventurer?”

“Indeed, it is beginning to sound too good to be true. How safe are these solutions of yours?”

“But that's what we're here to find out!”

“I'm so out of here.”

“Come on, I was only joking! I said I've tried most of these myself before, didn’t I? They are undoubtedly safe, seeing as I'm still standing here. At least, now they are. I think...”

“I'm sorry to report that you do not inspire great confidence in me right now.”

“Of course, anything can happen! There is always a slight risk involved in complex processes like this. We are of different species too. Human and hauflin anatomy are quite similar, overall, but alchemy is a very subtle craft, and certain compounds may have differing effects depending on the subject's biology. But it'll be fine! I have antidotes and healing potions at hand. In the worst case, I know a good doctor too.”

I gave up resistance, though less than assured.

“All right. I understand. Now that I've taken this quest, I cannot afford to fail it, even if it kills me. But could you please at least explain to me first what I'm about to digest?

“Are you sure you want to know? Most people prefer not to.”

“Only a broad description of the intended purpose will do.”

“As you wish.” The girls took a short, thick vial of amber-colored liquid and set it onto the table in front of me. “I present to you: sample A. This is called firewater.”

She took her hand away. What looked like a reddish flame rose from the vial.

“My, look at the time. I must be going now.”

I turned to leave. Master Vivian speedily caught my arm to stop me.

“You already promised! Do you have no honor!?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“You cannot possibly expect me to drink live fire.”

“The name is metaphorical! It's not literally on fire! What you see is steam! There is a certain colorful agent that has a very low boiling point. The fumes that escape the glass look like flame, but it's not actually hot at all. See?”

I looked at the class again. “What could be the point of making such a thing?”

“You know how people sometimes call liquor, firewater,” she explained. “When I heard that, I thought to myself, I want to make actual water that is on fire. And people can drink it. Isn't that awesome? It’s got alcohol in it too. The taste isn't half bad either. I thought it would make for a fine spirit-raiser to toast before a big battle where half your friends are likely to wipe. It's pretty strong, though. Be careful.”

Oh, dear.

As everyone knew, fire required air to burn, so I took care not to open my mouth too wide when I raised the glass to my lips and drank it. To the last, my primate brain insisted the flaming liquid had to be boiling hot, and I couldn’t escape being surprised when it turned out no warmer than the room air.

Despite the maker’s warning, it didn’t have much of a kick either. What was fiery by hauflin standards was perhaps less so for humans. The first sensory experience I had was that of overpowering honey-like sweetness. It was like more fluid sort of honey, with a gentle punch. Rather excellent, actually. My mind was already at work at finding non-adventurous applications for the product. It could go well with crepes.

“Well?” Master Vivian inquired. “How is it?”

“I’m not dying fast,” I said.

Relieved to live and tell the tale, I introduced my plans for the invention and how it was the ideal companion for later autumn Sunday picnics and wheaty desserts. The firewater might not be up to men’s tastes, though, due to the high sweetness of it. This made it something of a failure to the creator herself, who had distilled it for adventurer markets, which tended to have a heavy male majority.

She listened to me with glassy eyes and then said,

“I think I’ll put this sample on the back burner. What about this one? Sample B!”

The next vial, unlabelled like the first, contained a substance clear and colorless, like water. Only when the glass was shaken, the fluid betrayed viscosity a notch above plain water. It also had a curiously clean, white sheen, and smelled a little like cherries.

“I thought this was a potion store, not a distillery,” I said.

“This is not a refreshment!” Master Vivian snapped. “I don’t want to influence your opinion by revealing too much beforehand. Bottoms up!”

This was really not a job for me. Faintly sighing, I emptied the vial in front of the little hauflin’s watchful eyes.

Despite having such a thick smell, it didn’t taste like much anything, oddly enough. Neither pleasant nor unpleasant. I cautiously examined my hands to see if I was changing color, or growing things I shouldn’t have. But nothing seemed out of usual.

“Hm-hm!” The potion master posed haughtily and smiled. “What you just drank was my own take on the truth serum! The long-cherished dream of alchemists and law-enforcers everywhere!”

Truth serum? Damn it, I've been had. She guessed I wouldn't drink it if I knew beforehand! What a hideous trap!

I could only hope and pray the effect would be temporary, or else I was in for a lot of trouble at my lodging.

“Now, let’s see how it works!” Master Vivian triumphantly boomed. “Please try to tell me a glaring lie, and we'll see if you can!”

Well, the damage was done. To honor the client’s wishes, I thought for a moment and then spoke,

“The truth is, I have always been very fond of children.”

“I see,” Master Vivian smiled and bashfully brushed her small nose. “So it’s working as intended!”

I shook my head. “No, that just now was an utter lie.”

“What are you, a demon!?” she shrieked and retreated away from me.

“Please be at ease. The actual lie was what I said just now. I do have a soft spot for children, in all honesty.”

“Really?”

“A maid's word of honor.”

“...All I know for sure now is that this thing is a phenomenal failure!”

“No wonder. To begin with, what in life is true? How would you force such an elusive concept into light by chemical means, or otherwise? I have overheard hundreds of politicians argue completely conflicting points, each wholeheartedly convinced of being correct, everyone’s arguments equally reassuring and powerful, yet also ever incapable of affecting a genuine change.”

“Uhhh, this topic is getting a bit too heavy for me, can we move on now?”

Master Vivian handed me the third vial.

The liquid in it was also exceedingly transparent, but bore a pale green hue when examined closer against light. Tiny bubbles dashed to and fro in the glass, like small spirits chasing one another. I informed the alchemist I would absolutely refuse to drink it without a proper description.

“Sample C is my masterpiece,” Master Vivian declared. “Or, it will be. I have yet to perfect the formula, but I’m getting very, very close now. This is an elixir that will give man the much-needed edge over the menace of the monsterkind. I call it the Potion of Prescience!”

I had to have another take at the naming sense.

“I’m not sure that word means what you think it means.”

“It means what it means!” the hauflin insisted. “This is a drug that helps one see the future!”

“How could that be possible?”

“You know, our brains process tons more information than we are consciously aware of,” she began to explain. “Every hour we are awake, our senses take in information from around us, which our subliminal mind then decides is worth our time or is not. In this, we always stand limited by our natural capacity! There is a lot more knowledge available at all times than we can actively make use of. Do you see? I aim to break that barrier by means of alchemy! This potion will expand your channel, so to say, allowing the user to see things that are normally hidden. With that knowledge, you can spot your enemy before you are spotted, anticipate where you will be struck before the blow has even landed, and thereby react to things far in advance…Or, that is the theory.”

“Er...”

Master Vivian’s briefly stirred excitement dissipated as she continued,

“I’m not a combatant, so I can’t really tell if it works or doesn’t. For this, I need the perspective of someone who knows a thing or two about battle. Do you have experience like that?”

“Well, I am an adventurer,” I said. “For appearances.”

“Oh well. All data is welcome. This sample is diluted to 1/5,000, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Just tell me your impressions.”

Truth be told, if this mixture was half as effective as she presented, it could be very useful indeed for clearing dungeons and surviving difficult battles. Though the final product seemed like the stuff of utopia. Still, holding onto some childish hope of a genuine breakthrough, I took a cautious sip.

At first, there was nothing and I was about to report so.

Then my heart leapt violently in my chest with a noise that rang in my head like a church bell and blocked my ears.

Clutching my chest, I wavered and watched all the furniture and every individual component in the room eject themselves from their worldly containers as ghastly silhouettes of pure light. Their spectral shapes filled my vision, intersecting and blending together into a maelstrom of meaning and vectors of memory. I saw the table at once as whole and obliterated to pieces, and as a still-standing fresh maple on the roadside hills halfway to Trakia, and as dust rolling along a rocky cliff from which life had fled. The myriad containers on the shelves fell apart and bared their contents, which then crawled back in, and all the drawers were disassembled down to the last hinge and a screw and a ring and a spring, and stretched thin.

“What the devil is in this?” I grunted, struggling to keep my balance with everything sliding and revolving.

“The main ingredient is wormwood,” the alchemist’s voice replied from somewhere at the other end of a long tunnel. “Why?”

I turned to the hauflin, whose ethereal figure seemed to have nine arms and three heads and more eyes and fingers than I dared to count, tiny sparks of light coursing throughout her flesh that seemed like turned to glass itself. I could physically see what she was about to say before she actually said it and went through about a dozen variations of potential exchanges, before settling on the simplest path.

“There is a problem with this potion,” I said.

“Oh? What?”

“Fighting under the influence is utterly impossible.”

Or, doing anything, for that matter. And this was supposed to be the diluted version?

“You think?” she remarked with slight concern. “That—that could be bad.”

“It could be called a shortcoming, yes.”

Gradually, the swishing and twirling of lights began to settle, and I returned to feeling solid again. I had only taken a small sip, after all, and hurried to put the rest of the vial away, after double-checking where the table was meant to be.

“Instead of medicine, I believe this is better labeled as a hallucinogenic,” I said. “And sooner than drinking it myself, I’d rather administer it to the enemy.”

“That’s not precisely what I was going for with it…”

The tests wrapped up, thank gods, were returned to the shop side. I had to note that in this entire time, not a single customer had come by. Was Master Vivian’s shop quite all right? Oh well, I had my own share of troubles. Thinking about the materials tested today, they didn't perhaps work perfectly as they were meant to, but maybe there were still uses to be found for them? I had no idea what uses, yet, but it was a thing to keep in mind.

“Looks like I still have a lot of work to do,” the hauflin lamented with a sigh as she signed my guild card. “But I did get useful feedback today, so thank you. Do come by again.”

“I will consider it, if I still draw breath tomorrow. On that note, if you are feeling any grateful for my services today, would it be possible to have a slight discount on the soap you have on display? I find it has caught my fancy, so to say.”

Widely smiling, Master Vivian passed the card back to me over the counter and said,

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No. But I’m having a sale on tea now. Want some?”

“...I’ll take it.”