So—and who would have believed it—it turns out I am not a natural alchemist.

I’d hoped that—having made it up with my sword for what felt like the millionth time—it would henceforth be a pleasant, smooth journey to the brewing of a mixture that would somehow get me out of my predicament. Imagine my shock that it turned out to be much more difficult than that.

Plus ca change.

This is getting quite embarrassing now.

For what felt like the nine-zillionth time, my cauldron boiled dry, and the promise of an ‘Elixir of Wellness’ once more failed to appear.

“Maybe this isn't actually my fault. Maybe your flame is too hot?” I asked snarkily.

My flame is never anything less than completely fucking perfect, I will have you know. A poor workwoman blames her . . . you know . . . her fucking things.

“Look," I was becoming increasingly exasperated by my failure, "there are no other instructions. I grind up the moss.” I picked another handful between the flagstones beneath me and threw it in the cauldron. I then picked up the pestle (or maybe the mortar) and ended up with the same green goo I’d spent most of the afternoon producing.

I don't want to be that sword, but how the fuck is playing Little Miss Alchemist helping with our current predicament.

I Ignored it.

Sitting here fiddling with my cauldron—that sounds much dirtier than it was meant to—wasn’t exactly on page one of ‘How to achieve a great escape,’ but truth be told, I wasn’t overburdened with other ideas. I could run up and down the hall screaming and wailing, but I doubted that would be helpful.

Plus, I wouldn't say I especially enjoyed cardio.

So, trying to become Heisenberg might not be the most effective use of my time. However, in lieu of literally any other ideas, I was happy to give it a whirl.

"Come on, big man. Light it up once more."

Drynwyn dutifully caught fire, and the water was bubbling away in no time. So far, so good. So what was I missing? I scoured the instructions for more ideas. Moss. Water. Boil.

Genuinely, it wasn’t any more complex than that. I couldn't help but feel I was struggling with the City and Guild's Level 1 version of Alchemy.

Just checking to see if you are using your Qi in the right fucking way. I mean, there are only so many variables here, right?

"Of course I am."

How long a pause can I leave before asking a follow-up question?

“When you say 'using your Qi' . . .

Tell me we're not trying out Alchemy without putting Qi in the fucking mix . . .

“It doesn’t say anything using Qi anywhere in the instructions.”

Fuck Me! This is a handbook for cultivators. It doesn't tell you to make sure you are breathing or to wipe your arse after you shit, either. I imagine it's crediting you with a modicum of fucking common sense. Fuck me!

I dropped into my Artist's Studio and looked at the cauldron from that perspective.

Damn it, the fucking sword was right.

Just like little lines spread out from my channels and off into my armour and mana stone earrings, I sensed I could make the same sort of constant Qi connection to Morgan's gift.

I pushed out a thin line, and then a thicker one, towards the cauldron and - finally! - felt something shift. The pot stopped being something I possessed and transformed into actually being part of me.

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Fucking thing still didn't talk to me, though.

Prick.

I returned to reality and studiously ignored making eye contact with Drynwyn. Considering I had no idea where its eyes were, this was quite an achievement.

Well, if we've all picked our bollocks up from the floor, why don't we try this again and aim to be less utterly pathetic?

The temptation to see how far I could javelin this fucking thing down and into the distance was quite overwhelming.

I see it as a profound sign of my remarkable personal growth that I merely swore under my breath.

I dumped the half-completed Elixir out on the floor – if I ever lost my way inside this place, I'd just need to follow the long line of abandoned excrement back to base camp. It looked not unlike a horse with epic diarrhoea had shat its way down several hundred metres of corridor.

The moment I started to grind the next handful of heart moss within the now Qi-linked cauldron, I could tell the difference immediately.

It wasn't quite like a host of heavenly angels started singing as I mashed the damm stuff up, but it wasn't too far away.

Fucking hell, that's all a bit over the top, isn't it? And I speak as the sword that accompanied Rhyddrech Hael when he went undercover in a Gwent brothel. Two years it took him to work his way from the bottom all the way to . . . well, the bottom. There was a pause. Come to think of it, not sure there was any quest involved there. Not wholly clear what the end goal was, really . . .

I let Drynwyn burble away as I finished mashing up with the heart moss. It was now glowing beautifully and warm to the touch—like an avocado prepared by some celebrity well-being freak. I popped another bottle of spring water into the mix—there was that unnecessarily backing music again—and Drynwyn geared up to do its fiery thing.

Immediately, the cauldron lid tugged on my Qi channels, so I popped it on top and sealed the whole thing up tight.

I then sat back while the most glorious smell in the world emanated from the little bowl.

After all the disappointing failures, there was something immensely liberating about success. I couldn't easily remember my last one purely due to my own, personal efforts. Including both of my lifetimes.

How do you think we know when it is ready? I could do with some fiery flame of death downtime.

Almost the moment the sword spoke, I felt something change in the cauldron. I dropped into my Artist's Studio to better see the process from there.

The cauldron was . . . radiant. Like seriously. It was easily the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. It was gulping down my Qi like a drain - so much so I had to tap my earrings to even myself off - but when something looked so good-looking, it could pretty much do what it liked. Incidentally, that sort of clear-sighted decision-making accounted for a significant period of my teenage years spent in bed.

OG Morgan had said that the cauldron was one of Britain's thirteen treasures, and I could absolutely believe it.

I popped back out again to reality and lifted off the lid. The aroma of every home-cooked meal that had ever persuaded me I'd finally found Mr Right greeted me. My mouth watered just at the thought of tasting what waited within.

I dipped my finger and brought it to my mouth when Drynwyn made an odd noise. It sounded like it was clearing its non-existent throat.

Look, not for nothing, but I know a little something about Elixirs of Wellness. I'm not saying you shouldn't try it—I'm just saying YOU absolutely shouldn't.

I paused and lowered my hand. “Why? It smells amazing.”

I'm sure it does. I can read your emotions, and you're basically falling in love with the fucking stuff before you've even tried it. I'm just saying, from what I know about you, I'm not wholly convinced introducing a 'happy-joy-fun' substance right now is likely to speed up our escape plan. Like, at all.

"You're talking to me like I'm some sort of out-of-control, drug-dependent street person."

I didn't really need a pregnant-pause-just-ready-to-pop to engulf the conversation.

"Is it that potent?

It's a fucking Elixir of Wellness. Even a basic, shitty, half-arsed one - and I'm sure, at best, that is what you've produced there, even using a fucking Legendary cauldron - will cure you of everything, strengthen your body and basically bliss you out until the effect wears off. Call me selfish, but I'd instead concentrate on getting out of here rather than you getting off your tits.

The rare valid point.

I flicked through the scroll. There were many things later on that could help me, most of which seemed to have an Elixir of Wellness as a critical ingredient. They needed all sorts of other ingredients, and I only had the contents of one very long corridor.

Oh, and the inventory of Vortigon's Dragon's Horde ...

However, before I could start thinking about skilling myself up, I needed to improve the quality of this elixir to something called ‘Flawless.’

"How can I work out how good an elixir I've made?"

Stick it in a bottle and store it in your inventory. That should tell you what quality you have.

I did so and was rewarded with a little tag next to it that said "Inferior Elixir of Wellness [1]

That seemed more than a little harsh for something that the thought of tasting made me all weak at the knees.

Self-control was not my defining characteristic, so I was very proud to have it in my inventory without sipping.

I don't think a bottle of wine ever made it through the night in my flat.

Right. So, I had an unlimited amount of moss. More water bottles than I could count. And an enchanted cauldron.

Let's get cooking.