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"-. July 5, Year 580 of the King's Calendar .-"

"Now take all the rest of the Black Dragon and spread it somewhat thin upon that stone slab. The river stone plate you used before likely affected the process, but the marble plate I provided should be ideal. Now put into the one side thereof into your coal furnace. The Fire will glide through the Dragon within half an hour, and calcine it into a citrine colour, very glorious to behold."

I spread the black substance on the stone plate and put it into the side of the coal furnace. Then we waited half an hour for the reactions to run their course. Previously I might have quizzed my long-suffering instructor on the varied symbolism that alchemists couch their research in. 'Citrine colour' was more or less straightforward, but 'black dragon' was most certainly not. And contrary to what you'd expect of the naming conventions on Azeroth, it wasn't a flower. In fact, the other popular metaphor among alchemists was black feces. Basically, the substance was bone char – bones that were burnt at low oxygen in a sealed vessel at a temperature of around 700 degrees Celsius. Except unlike regular bone char, the calcination process was alternatively interposed or combined with four complex chemical steps preceding this one.

But I'd long since memorised all the terms all at this point, and we were both too tense to indulge in casual conversation.

The half hour ended. The bone char did not turn a citrine colour. The black dragon was therefore not at all glorious to behold.

"Unbelievable," Narett finally said, sounding exactly like he looked – completely dumbfounded. "Another failure."

"This makes no sense!" I all but exploded with all the frustration of continuously failing to reproduce every one of the basic alchemical procedures for five straight days. "You were there for every single step, I did them all perfectly this time, you said so yourself."

"I did, and I'm not taking back my words. I literally cannot fathom why this is happening."

"You mean not happening, what the hell? Am I cursed? It'd have to be a real mean one to get past the Light, never mind without me noticing if it's there." Just in case, I checked myself again. The Light shimmered gold over my whole form. "Nope, still nothing."

Narett, for the first time since we met, had nothing to say.

I fell in my chair with a huff. "Teacher, be honest with me – am I or am I not the worst student you've ever had?"

"Well, let's see. Do you know what dragons represent?"

"The First Matter, their power lies in the primordial life force." Which was not necessarily alike the Light from what I observed, but I wasn't going to bring it up. Heresy was a sensitive topic.

"What is a Dragon in Flames?"

"A dragon in flames is calcination, the first step in alchemical transformation, when a substance is reduced to bone by burning. This is the beginning of the Black Phase, which can be represented by the Black Dragon. During Calcination, the substance is reduced to ashes through applying its internal fires."

"What occurs when several dragons are fighting?"

"Several dragons fighting is putrefaction, the final cleansing of impurities." Putrefaction, ironically, was not looked upon with ill will by alchemy. If anything, it was the opposite, considered the ultimate form of purgation.

"Even if your technique was still inadequate, your learning rate is enough that I would still rate you respectably middling, especially when factoring in your young age… Though perhaps that's the root of the problem here." Narett gave me a long, scrutinizing stare and what the heck did he mean middling? I didn't need my ego popped, my head was already the right size, thank you very much. "Besides the significance for crude matter, dragons fighting can also symbolise the struggle over whether the ego continues to live or dies off. For one walking the Noble Path, the dragons are confronting the inner reality of the person's shadow, the darkness within. The ultimate purpose lies in the reabsorption of the essences of the ego and the shadow into a single whole, unifying the parts of the person."

Alchemists are literal geniuses. I carefully didn't let it show how close the man was skirting sensitive topics that I'd never brought up with even my own family. Middling indeed. I'm jealous.

"I've never seen it manifest quite so overtly, but perhaps youth is a rare trait among even the most talented aspirants for more than one reason. You are rather prone to daydreaming, or perhaps the Light is affecting results somehow?" And wasn't that the question? "I will have to make some inquiries-" the man paused at the look on my face. "With your permission?"

At least he was asking. "How much about me and mine will you need to share?"

"Nothing at all, but those who know where I've been and who I've met will draw their own conclusions."

"Great." I rose with a grunt and glared at the black char. Then I looked at the man. "As long as you're discreet."

"Believe me," the man said dryly. "Discretion is an intrinsic part of the Noble Path."

I snapped my fingers. "So it is a secret society."

Narett pinched his nosebridge. "We are not a secret society. There is neither a threat nor incentive for such an organisation. It is a perfectly respectable profession!"

"Alright alright, go ahead and message your friends in this worldwide, definitely-not-secret, totally-not-a-society of alchemists." Which had somehow coasted under the radar to the point where even my past life knowledge didn't know about it.

"I shall." Narett didn't take his leave yet though, watching me instead for a while. "How would you say your elementals are faring? I've made my own observations, but I want to know yours in your own words."

Getting to the stage where the Light won't help me control them anymore unless I start to physically yank them around. What was that ability called, Leap of Faith? 'Mind Control' was perhaps not the best starting point for experimenting with the 'shadow', but I technically never did that. The Light could do it too, if the mind was already under influence, or if there was some other kind of Void in there to fill, like a missing or damaged Soul. And if doing so contributed positively to the target's ability to self-determinate. For baby elementals who were sentient but not sapient (at least at the start, before they merged into the final nine of now) and were spiritually scarred after experiencing a traumatic birth (or summoning from the overlapping fringes of the Abyssal Maw and Firelands?), it was basically child-rearing. Also, the spiritually-subverting taint left behind from when the Old Gods subjugated the elements way back was transmissible. The Light was all too willing to purge it in holy fire and take up its place. But for the same reasons, the efficacy drastically decreased to nothing the higher the level of self-awareness became. The Light worked intuitively, and so listened to the closest intuition and claim first. Not that I had any plans to mind control people. That way lay self-interest of the distinctly not enlightened kind. But Narett was still waiting for me to answer his question. "They're like gluttonous puppies, except made of gas."

"Hmm." The man seemed to think for a while, then moved to his satchel and began digging through it.

I could probably use a modified process to command people to do things they might otherwise do if they were in their right mind. And if I had the time to talk them around to my way of thinking. A direct and instantaneous challenge to their driving beliefs in the form of my own understanding. But at that point I was basically just skipping the time it would take to get to know each other and discuss the matter. Actually, now that I thought about it, couldn't that even cause me to come around to their way of thinking? Empathise with them, anyway, maybe even sympathise. Depending on which way the facts fell. The Light works intuitively, which would have much deeper and broader effects than anything else I've attempted, seeing as there would be two intuitions involved. Directly connected. Synchronized.

… Harry Dresden, you don't need the Outer Gates, you're upending Outside worlds perfectly fine without them.

I just reverse-engineered the Soulgaze.

"Did you know that the higher levels of alchemy involve the invocation and intercession of various spirits?" Narett brought out a booklet. A single glimpse of its make and lack of wear told me it was new.

I blinked. "It does?" Oh how I wished I'd looked into this stuff more in my past life.

"Yes." He passed me the booklet. "Here. Steam elementals are the sort of thing even old alchemy tests speak of only in the theoretical, but perhaps you'll be lucky with this. Your fortune certainly doesn't lie in alchemy itself, so far."

"Go ahead and don't spare any of my feelings." I took the notebook and leafed through it, then paused. It was a primer on Ignan and Aquan. The languages of Fire and Water elementals, respectively. "Hey, isn't this the notebook you've been scribbling in on and off every day?" Narett had basically lived under our roof since he first showed up back in April. "Did you write this just for me?"

"Like any other spirit, elementals can speak directly to the mind, but new ones don't have a frame of reference for it. Perhaps if you can comprehend some of theirs…"

"Are you telling me I've been pining after shamans all this time for no reason?!"

"Perhaps," Narett shrugged, not fazed by my outburst.

"… I don't know how to repay you for this."

"If it even helps, you mean. You can pay me back by documenting your findings."

"Teacher, thank you." I set the book aside and then hugged the man. "I'm going to figure this out. Both of them."

Narett awkwardly pat my back. "It will be quite the feat in both cases, but it stands to reason that even I would be surprised at some point."

Not for the first time, I strongly considered letting the man in on some of my grander plans, the ones that were still theoretical. But his caginess about the Arcane and the consistency with which he changed the subject every time the topic skirted around mages and Dalaran made me hesitate. Instead, I dropped the Light on him – still no effect, the man was, as always, in perfect health – before pulling back. I then walked him to the door, wishing he'd at least explain why he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about them. Assuming it wasn't the opposite. The man didn't control his expression or tone, exactly, it was more like he was beyond emotional lapses of any sort. Those externally prompted at least.

I manfully resisted the urge to try Soulgaze on him. Even though I could tell it was one of those things that didn't care about such pesky details as prior research and development.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The Light, as always, was a revelation.

Informed consent was a thing to be accounted for too.

Father should have made it back from Alterac City by now – dad had been playing proxy more and more for my various business matters, he was a man with hair on his chest and a better haggler than me – but I didn't see him anywhere on the way to the gate. I did see the aftermath of the hired guards in the stables though. Asking mother revealed he'd gone right back out to the fields, which I probably should have expected. Dad was quite dedicated to learning how to be a proper farmer, our farmhands were as much hired help as they were teachers these days, despite having been the last among us to be introduced to the seed drill. Fortunately, mother made sure to see Narett off alongside me.

"You have my gratitude for your hospitality, madam. Please thank your husband for me as well." Narett had wanted to pay for lodgings originally, but I prevailed on my parents to refuse. Maybe other people might look askance at hospitality and say it wasn't an important virtue, but I wasn't one of them. Of course, later I had to prevail upon them not to do the opposite and offer to pay Narett, when our guest began to put me through the incipient tests of apprenticeship. Even with all the money I made through my unconventional craftsmanship and business ventures, they still wished to see me have a 'real' profession. Which was fair. Alchemy was about as elite as you could get without being scouted by Dalaran, and I was getting a strong inkling that it was a much bigger deal than certain games made it out to be. 'Big enough to be its own class' kind of big.

Narett turned to me. "I will make sure to convey the best impressions to our mutual associates." Unknown to me previously, Narett was the prime expert that people called on to judge whether the next big wonder substance was genuine or scam. That included nine tenths of everyone who ended up taking a chance on me. Alchemists were as rare as they were in high demand. They were always on the lookout for rare talents as a result, it was the whole reason why he'd scouted us to begin with, candidates with both enough intelligence and 'the right attitude' were apparently very rare. Even when the former was only 'respectably middling.' "Now that I am leaving, however, you should not let them wait overmuch."

"I know. Let's hope they don't hold my age against me this time."

"You might be surprised. I certainly was."

"Point to them." Our 'mutual acquaintances' had deliberately allowed Narett to persist in his assumption about mother being the real mind behind everything. Unfortunately, I couldn't know for sure if that was a good or bad thing for me. I hoped it was good-natured ribbing, but it could just as easily be the latest step in a passive-aggressive competition of deliberate slights. I knew which it would be back on Earth, but my experience misjudging the Church made me hesitate in assuming the worst. For once. Hopefully I wouldn't be disappointed. Surprised pessimism isn't as pleasant as people think.

Narett was, of course, completely oblivious to my inner ramblings. "I don't suppose I need to say just how paradigm-shifting your electricity technology is all on its own."

You have no idea. "Well, I wouldn't want to assume."

"You can assume that overt noble attention is inevitable." Narett wasn't mincing words anymore. "The repercussions of your indiscretion with the blasting powder are still unfolding. I expect the whole world will start to see them soon."

Whoa, now! That sounded seriously like something that shouldn't be tossed out at the eleventh hour. Also, I'd never shared the recipe, so if anyone leaked the secrets to the wrong warmonger, it would have to be, oh, an alchemist. Given how thin on the ground they were, that alchemist would possibly become Narett himself. Not that I was happy I might have opened him to the risk of noble 'pressure', but my original reasons didn't lose validity either, even if I did know him personally now and was invested in his wellbeing. There was a lot I could say about the literal shadow war and possible arms race that I may or may not have ignited between the two most conflict-prone human countries, depending on whether anyone from Stromgarde made off with a sample. None of which I could confirm or deny because I honestly didn't know. But the truth was ultimately simple. One, I was one hundred percent sure that any saber rattling by Alterac or Stromgarde would swiftly be followed by Narett's not-a-society of friends leaking the secret of gunpowder to all the other countries. And two... "… The world needs it."

Narett, who'd been watching me carefully and had clearly waited to drop that bomb for when my guard was lowest, sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I had originally conceived a speech about wisdom and unintended consequences, and how one is not entitled to make such a decision for the whole of mankind just because they can. But coming from the only half of this conversation not bestowed with literal divine grace, I suppose it would sound rather trite."

"I've wished many times that I'd been born in Lordaeron," I admitted. "Unfortunately, I was born here."

"Well." Narett dropped his hand and beheld me seriously. "Not at all unfortunate for the rest of us."

… Well shucks.

"I'll be in touch." The man hesitated in the door, though, uncharacteristically. Then he took a breath and- "I'll see about some enchanting resources for next time we meet."

I was so surprised that I didn't act on my immediate instinct to drag him back inside to do that now. "That might be the most critical help you could give me."

"Unfortunately," Narett muttered, such that I had serious difficulty containing my questions. Hospitality was the only thing that stopped me. "Be well, Wayland. It's been a confounding experience, but not unpleasant."

I watched the man leave, pondering magic, science, the difference between expertise and prowess, and the misleading nature of gameplay and story segregation when compared to real life. I also pondered Narett himself, the big man – though not taller than me anymore – for whom 'stirring' was most certainly not enough to explain his muscles.

Narett had not expected me to be a mere fifteen year-old. Which was good. I used a pseudonym for all my auction house operations – they let you do that so long as they knew who you really were, alas for the resulting security hazards. Coupled with the 'gossip' about what tasks mother gave to street urchins, Narett actually expected my mother to be the actual alchemist. Which was more than fair, her herbalism knowledge started out as comprehensive and became literally prodigious after all the books I bought. The things I knew about dandelions just from listening to her could fill a small book now, never mind serious business like kingsblood and liferoot. Thank heavens that the printing press was already a thing.

But when Narett and I got to talking, I confirmed another possibility I'd dusted off since awakening in this world: the alchemy profession in the game? Everything that wasn't some sort of transmutation? Complete dogshit.

Most potions, elixirs and flasks only needed you to mix and match reagents in specific orders and quantities, which could be done by literally any herbalist or medicine man capable of following a recipe. I should know, my mom taught me how to make healing potions with a mortar and pestle. Even the complicated potions and elixirs I remembered from my previous life were just about following the recipe, including those that needed enchanted vials – the enchantment was to make it store longer and survive falls and impacts, it had nothing to do with the contents themselves. The right herbs mixed together the right way turned into literal magic because of that little thing known as the Arcane, no additional ritual or spell required, certainly no transmutation of one matter into another. But at some point alchemists just gave up on arguing the point with laymen because, one – 'people who thought they could lecture you on your life-long vocation were morons and thus not worth engaging with'; and two – mixtures were what made alchemists all their money, which they then used to fund their study into real alchemy.

So what was real alchemy? Not chemistry and physics. Or, at least, not just chemistry and physics. Unlike me, the alchemists actually had three thousand years' worth of research into 'the nature, manifestation and manipulation of prime matter' while also accounting for that little thing known as the Arcane.

Long story short, the alchemists were the reason why gnomes finally figured out how to make steam engines that did not, in fact, spew elemental creatures everywhere. And they had already built on the gnomes' engineering to invent the internal combustion engine.

Over two hundred years ago.

Yeah.

I was humbled when I found out. Then I was aghast to learn it was promptly abandoned. Turns out it incubates fire elementals. The murderous kind. And sometimes, very rarely, it explodes into a portal to the Firelands.

If the day ever comes that I find out this is how the Dark Iron dwarves pulled Ragnaros over here, there's gonna be murder

Thankfully, all known cases involved very small elementals, basically pixie-sized. Which was good. If every engineering misfire had consequences the size of hills, Azeroth would have been scoured clean by the Fermi paradox long ago without the Burning Legion needing to do anything.

When I asked Narett why he couldn't do whatever the gnomes did to make the steam engine work, his explanation basically boiled down to 'the gnomes made it work by making it as unlike a steam engine as possible, which sufficiently disrupts the Arcane's love of turning everything into some manner of ritual.' At least that's how I interpreted his explanation. Unfortunately, the internal combustion engine was too complex and structured and deliberate to get away with such a 'shoddy' workaround. Ridiculously, the closest comparison Narett could summon up were clothes – it was not, apparently, just a game mechanic for clothing to become inherently and consistently magical if they were tailored expertly enough. You didn't need to be a mage to make hammerspace either, apparently, just a tailor who knew the right materials and seams.

As for the idea of making an internal combustion engine in a null magic area? Dalaran had already tried it, to identical if somewhat delayed results. Something Narett tried and failed to pretend didn't offend him and his entire profession on a fundamental level even beyond the harm to human life. For some reason. There was some manner of tension between alchemists and mages that I didn't understand. I was sure it wasn't mere professional rivalry though. It was much deeper than that, this much I could tell despite his considerable skill in deflection.

All of which left me with one big question.

How the hell did gnomes harness nuclear energy?!

Fucking ridiculous!