Chapter 95: Volume 4 - CH 2.1

—Leviathan 1—

Winter, 1899.

The cursed nineteenth century, marked by the advancement of science and the decline of sorcery, is coming to an end, and the last year of the century is about to begin.

I, Leviathan, hereby write.

I beseech you, unlock your heart and lend me your ear. I am the last and most powerful sorcerer of this century. I am an alchemist who created something out of nothing.

Here, I share my story.

Long ago I, Leviathan, was nothing more than a nameless vagabond. I spent my years on long and weary travels. I had been to every corner of Europe, and not content with that, to India, Morocco, and the Dark Continent. Eternity had tried to rob me of my spirit. I was simply wandering.

At the very beginning of my journey, I acquired a stone. I took it from an old man who claimed to be an alchemist. He said that the stone, red as a maiden’s fresh blood, was a Philosopher’s Stone. I, a rash youth, wanted it, so I killed the old man, thus obtaining eternal life.

Now, this memoir is not about my years of travel. As such, I will begin with the events of two years ago, in the winter of 1897.

That winter, on nothing but a whim, I abandoned my roving lifestyle and visited St. Marguerite Academy in the outskirts of the Kingdom of Sauville, where I was hired as a watchman of the academy’s clock tower. I wished to rest my fatigued body, and to have a workshop to study the Philosopher’s Stone.

Day and night, I polished the huge clockworks and pendulum in the dim tower. Then, using the same room as my workshop, I began to decipher the ancient manuscripts that I had taken from the old man.

It was not long after that that I found a way to create gold. Following a certain procedure, I used an inexpensive item that was available to anyone, and to my surprise, it quickly turned to gold.

I decided to sell it in the village.

The gold was unmistakably real, and I earned a large sum of money.

I became famous in the village in an instant. My careless nature reared its head, and I told the villagers about alchemy and the Philosopher’s Stone.

Soon, messengers arrived from Saubreme. They looked grandiose with their formal attire and trumpets. They read to me a letter from the Queen of Sauville.

I was surprised and delighted at the same time. The queen was a noble who had just married the king, and portraits of her transient beauty had circulated throughout the kingdom. It is no exaggeration to say that the queen was all that people talked about during this time.

The queen’s letter was astonishing. She asked me, a drifter alchemist, to come to the palace.

I gave my affirmation to the messengers. I told them that I would be there at the appointed time.

The messengers rode back on their horses, and in their place, a grand army arrived. While the queen’s messengers were lovely servants, the king’s royal guards were a bunch of big, rugged men lined up in a row. I prepared myself for the worst.

It seemed, however, that they too had business with me. The group was led by an older man dressed in aristocratic fashion. He introduced himself as Baron Musgrave, the Minister of Justice of the Kingdom of Sauville.

A visit from the Minister of Justice right after receiving the queen’s invitation. He proclaimed to be the king’s envoy. Unlike the amiable attendants, he began questioning me in a very high-handed manner.

“Are you a fraud?” he asked.

“No more than you,” I answered flatly.

Baron Musgrave’s elegant mustache twitched in anger. As he reached for the long sword at his waist, shouting, there came a voice.

An innocent, carefree laughter. The Baron froze.

The laughter seemed to come from the parked lavish carriage.

The carriage door opened and the owner of the voice jumped out nimbly. To my surprise, it was a boy of only thirteen or fourteen. He introduced himself as Ian, the eldest son of Baron Musgrave. He had short hair and a face so childlike that he could be mistaken for a woman. The boy approached the masked man in a robe—that is, me—without any sign of fear, and asked me questions.

Apparently, the Baron’s eldest son was interested in alchemy. The Baron scolded his son, his shoulders trembling even more from rage.

I could not hide my confusion. Why would the Queen’s messengers, and now the Minister of Justice and his son, come to a village in the countryside?

Baron Musgrave, accompanied by his retinue of brawny knights, entered my workshop—the room with the clockworks. At the Baron’s orders, the knights searched every inch of my workshop, turning everything upside down and ransacking the place. Someone tugged at my hand, which was trembling with fury and doubt. I looked over my shoulder and saw the boy, Ian.

“The king and my father think you’re a fraud,” he whispered in my ear. “The queen is ignorant to the ways of the world, so they fear she’s being deceived by you.”

“Me? A fraud?”

I could not stop laughing upon hearing those words. Ian smiled as well.

“Ian, was it? Do you share their opinion?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. I’m hoping you’re the real deal.” He looked at me quizzically, stared at the face hidden behind the mask. “The queen has met dozens of people who claim to be alchemists and sorcerers. My father says she must be nervous about her new position in the royal court, so she wants something to hang on to, some great, mysterious power. And she wants that person to protect her. But so far, the queen has only met frauds. That’s why the king and my father take preemptive measures.”

“I see… But what are they doing in my workshop?”

“They want you to perform alchemy. So they are investigating things beforehand. Does it offend you?”

I laughed at the question. I looked around the darkly-lit workshop, at the room of pendulum and clockworks. There was nothing here. Nothing but my mystical powers. What was there to fear?

The queen’s image that I had seen in portraits, her beauty, tinged with uneasiness, came to mind.

At that moment, I felt something in my heart that I had never felt before during my years as a wanderer. A desire. An ambition.

I wanted them, things that were once out of reach for me.

Alluring beauty. Authority. And wealth.

After inspecting my workshop, the baron ordered his men to lock me up inside with only a little food.

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“You will not leave this place until you produce gold,” Baron Musgrave declared. “You will stay here for years as punishment for deceiving the masses.”

“Three days,” I said.

“What?”

“Open the door in three days. I will give you the gold then. If I manage to produce gold, you will let me see the queen.”

The baron was taken aback.

“Should I fail, you may hang me.”

In the morning three days later, the door slowly opened. I saw the baron’s pale face, Ian peering anxiously at his side, and the royal guards.

I staggered toward the baron, breathing heavily, and presented to him a nugget of gold.

Yes. A shiny, nugget of gold that was sitting on my gloved hand.

The baron gasped and looked around the workshop.

“How in the world did you do it?” he asked. “There are no other ways out of this place. We searched the whole workshop, and the building was surrounded. You fraud! How did you do it?!”

“Take me to the queen,” I groaned, before collapsing on the floor. “I shall protect her.” A snicker escaped the corner of my mouth.

I had wandered aimlessly for eternity, in what seemed like a never-ending nightmare.

The time had finally come.

I will crawl out of hell—the hell that appeared from underneath the earth a long time ago.

The royal palace of Sauville welcomed me.

The queen was so emotional that she almost fainted. I was pleased by her reaction. The queen was young, beautiful, lonely, and she seemed to have a great interest in the mystic arts.

The King of Sauville, on the other hand, regarded me with suspicion. The king was a grown man, but he was young and quite handsome. I noticed that his eyes held not only suspicion, but a glimmer of expectation.

I knew exactly what the king was thinking. Sauville was in dire financial straits. As the end of the century approached, the sound of war could be heard coming from across Europe. The small kingdom needed tremendous financial resources to survive. The more, the better. The king desperately wanted gold, and he was willing to give the queen away for it.

And the queen herself feared that her youthful and lovely appearance would one day fade. She was willing to do anything to obtain immortality, one of the products of alchemy.

I humbled myself and greeted them both. I told them how I loved Sauville and how I wanted to serve the kingdom.

Among the lavish decorations of the palace, I found a vase of flowers and picked one up.

A white rose.

“Your Majesties,” I said, “As proof of my loyalty to you, I will turn this colorless white rose into a blue one as a blessing of your union.”

The queen was delighted. The crest of the royal family of Sauville featured a blue rose.

“Preposterous!” Baron Musgrave, sitting at the furthest seat, hissed. “There is no such thing as a blue rose. There are flowers of all colors in the world, but no one can create a blue rose. It’s impossible!”

“With alchemy, nothing is impossible.”

“Nonsense!”

I looked at the king. He was regarding me with a frown. His eyes were filled with suspicion.

“I have a proposal, Your Majesty. If I fail to bring forth a blue rose, you may execute me. I am not afraid. But if I am successful…”

And so I expressed my wish.

The Kingdom of Sauville, like other European powers, had been pouring resources into colonial policies since the turn of the century. A percentage of their wealth came from the treasures of the Dark Continent across the sea. Spices, pepper, coffee beans, diamonds, and artifacts from archaeological sites—infinite wealth from tropical islands, India, and the African continent.

I asked for a chance to express my opinion on colonial policies. The king’s brows knitted, but he eventually agreed.

“Very well,” he said.

The baron and the queen watched with bated breath.

I gently grasped the white rose and poured my strength into it.

I struggled. I was shivering, sweating, my whole body shaking. A stir spread through the palace. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw the white rose in my hand slowly turning bright blue.

The queen let out a gasp of admiration. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together in front of her chest.

Then slowly she descended from her throne and knelt before me, deeply moved. I politely offered her the blue rose.

“Ah, my dear alchemist!” she exclaimed as she accepted the flower.

“All my power belongs to you, my beautiful queen. From now and forever more.”

Under the mask, I was smiling.

I was pleased.

And when I lifted my head, I saw the king glaring at me with dark eyes.

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