Chapter 9: Lemonly

The evening after the meeting, I stared at the grass of the garden behind the manor.

 

“Fifteen… Sixteen… Seven-oof.”

 

I dropped to the ground face first, my arms already dead.

 

It was a little pathetic, I’d be the first to agree with that. It’d quickly become apparent that my physical stamina seemed, somehow, even weaker than it had the first day. I’d somehow downgraded from cancer patient to dying sloth, and the transition scared me.

 

Being alive was great, I’d recommend it, but the downsides sometimes hurt.

 

From his perch on the bush beside me, Gideon scoffed.

 

I rolled over and offered him a smile, but he turned away again to focus on the open book in front of him. Even after explaining the whole ordeal and my reasoning, he still hadn’t quite forgiven me for accepting that quest. Apparently it was ‘too dangerous’ and I was ‘impulsive’, but I knew he’d come around eventually. Besides, there was more than one way to cast a pyroclastic mana web!

 

Regardless, even being just a lookout might require some aspect of fitness. Running away, in particular, might prove to be a useful skill, loath as I was to admit it. They’d chosen a time after hours so that we might not meet anyone there when we broke in, but I knew from personal experience that was a forlorn hope. 

 

Not that I could summon any huge amount of physical gains in the day before we went in, but it was a good habit to return to anyway.

 

“Find anything?” I rolled onto my back, my beret falling off into the grass. 

 

Why do you care? I didn’t think you cared about transmutation at all.

 

Gideon had finished scanning the manor library for magical tomes hours ago, but that hadn’t meant there was nothing useful hidden in there. 

 

One of the few other things a person…err… a person or dragon could do with transmutation was transmute objects to other, similar objects. Orange dye, a melon, and an apple for example could sometimes be transmuted into an orange, though this kind of transmutation was much harder to pull off than the [gold] to anything type. The objects one used to create another needed to have all of the ‘essence’ of the product, or in other words the cumulative local societal opinion of the product. This worked particularly well for things like oranges, which represented the colour itself in many places, and even better in western-influenced places where mass media was a little more present than most, but it was still incredibly difficult and prone to failure for a wide variety of reasons. Even the smallest change in a local culture’s perception of the product would change the necessary ingredients.

 

This had workarounds of course: a person could always just perform the transmutation in an extremely isolated place where other people were almost nonexistent, meaning that the would-be transmutator only needed to know their own perceptions about the object, but that was a difficult feat in and of itself.

 

And so Gideon was reading a local cookbook, looking for ingredients that might fit the bill, even if we couldn’t do the actual transmutation yet.

 

“I’m as interested as you.” I said. “Though I’m more interested in how the local populace feels about a fruit they’d never heard of before.”

 

It would be pretty weird if Verol had some innate sense of what was ‘[lemonly]’ and what wasn’t.

 

I’m hoping they just don’t count. Gideon admitted. 

 

“It would be pretty great if we only had to worry about our own preconceptions.” I agreed. “But somehow I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

 

We’ll just have to test it. Which will require knowledge of the ritual. Gideon glared at me again. Which will require magic.

 

I sighed. There was no winning that argument until I proved the efficacy of my method.

 

Which, if you aren’t aware, will take time. Gideon continued. We might have to start planning for the eventuality that we’ll be here for a few months.

 

“Months? You think it’ll take that long?” I sat up, concerned.

 

I’m not sure, of course. Gideon flipped another page in the book. But I’m getting more and more sure that we’ll be here for longer than a month at least.

 

“Well that doesn’t sound too…” I trailed off as I realised what he meant. “Ah, the academy. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

 

It was something Marcolo, Hans, and Fredrick had all mentioned on the first day. Honestly, I had assumed that we wouldn’t be here long enough for me to have to actually care about it, but if we were going to cross that threshold…

 

Exactly. We have to make sure our plans are mobile. Gideon nodded to himself. Which currently they are, for most of what we need is knowledge. We’ll just have to pray that Minume-

 

“Min-U-a.” I corrected.

 

…Minua has the alchemical ingredients we’ll need.

 

“I’d be more worried about the time investment, myself.” I fiddled with a rock beside me, trying to imagine what kind of institution this ‘academy’ was. 

 

It’ll be fine. Gideon scoffed. Worse case scenario you’re locked into some monastery for two years and I have to do the fieldwork myself.

 

I shuddered at the thought. College had already proved to be irritating enough with a side gig, so something like that…

 

“If it’s like that, I’m piercing the veil.” I said. “And then running away. We can’t afford to waste time like that.”

 

It would suck, and was pretty immoral to do to Saphry, but I wasn’t about to just give Elys several years of my life while we tried to get back. At that point I’d have to choose between me and Saphry, and while I had no small amount of sympathy for the girl I wouldn’t be opting for her.

 

Fair enough, I wouldn’t blame you then. Just ask around when you get the chance, alright? If we are forced to go, I’d rather know what kind of city Minua is, and what we can expect of the academy.

 

“I’ll look into it.” I promised, wondering if the meagre library in the manor had a map or travel journal. “But then our main problem would be materials then? Assuming that we get some thaumaturgy from Andril soon that is.”

 

It wasn’t a guarantee that Andril would agree to that of course, but I was reasonably sure I could get something out of him. Even just a couple casting phrases would be a massive help.

 

Hmmph. Gideon said, unconvinced. But yes, assuming that we get the knowledge we need, it’s just the materials.

 

I laid back down, satisfied. If we were going to be forced to Minua, I really couldn’t see how it could be that bad. It’d really have to approach prison levels of restrictions before I truly considered going off grid.

 

“In that case, what do you think is lemonly?”

 

Something sour, of course. Yellow if we can find one. Gideon looked away thoughtfully. Maybe we could magically change the colour of an existing fruit?

 

“It would certainly be possible with magic.” I cringed. “Well, if I were to use spells from earth that is. I’ll have to see if they have any counterparts.”

 

Which brought up a good point: did magic even work the same way? If they were casting with fire and flame, then what were the chances they used the same system as I had on Earth?

 

This situation had the possibility of being much worse than I’d assumed. 

 

“Saphry?” Marcolo called out from the back door. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

Throwing my misgivings from my mind, I waved back to him. Free food was one of the better parts of all this, and it wouldn’t be good to keep him waiting long.

 

“Coming!”

 

…

 

 

 

“When is Corto coming back?” I asked. “It’s so boring without him.”

 

It had been weeks since Father had recalled Brother to Summark, and no letter had come back from the country in that time telling of what had happened. Hadn’t he promised to send one back immediately?

 

“It takes weeks to travel there. If they got caught in a storm, he might’ve just arrived.” Marcolo didn’t look up from his book, probably contemplating the next lesson.

 

You are reading story Lmenli at novel35.com

“There’ve been no storms.” I looked up at the white glow of the Second Star. “Celrion has stayed bright these last few days.”

 

“That only means that no storms are hitting us.”

 

“Is that how it works?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

I gazed out into the far vales, the night mists still not upon them. On the top of a far hill, a horned figure cloaked in red flames and smoke stood outlined against the sky, but I ignored it, finding it of almost no consequence. Even the other stars shone bright in the sky, with the twinkling greens of the Haliborne already beginning their movement south for the winter and the glittering blue Shield Star hanging high in the eastern skies over Summark.

 

Even the sight of that blue pulled at some low sorrow, calling me East. 

 

“I wonder why he didn’t call me too.” I sighed. “Summark is so beautiful this time of year.”

 

Marcolo looked up from the book, a spark of pity in his eyes.

 

“Why don’t I cut up some cloudfish?” He said. “Might as well use up that sauce we imported from Iclos too, lest it go bad.”

 

I perked up a little at the mention of food, hunger pushing thoughts of Corto from my mind, only for them to return when I remembered why we had it.

 

“Weren’t we saving that for when Father returned?”

 

Marcolo laughed as he hauled me to my feet.

 

“He never really liked cloudfish anyway.”

 

I smiled as we walked to the kitchen, hoping that father wouldn’t mind too much.

 

“Thank you, Marcolo.”

 

 

 

 

I woke up gasping for breath, the very last of the evening sunbeams shining upon my face. The study’s balcony door was open to the elements, and a cool breeze blew in, bringing with it the fresh smell of the mountain. I peeled my face off of the book in front of me as I got up, wondering about that dream.

 

That figure on the hill… why hadn’t Saphry acknowledged it? I had definitely seen it, right? That wasn’t some figment of my imagination?

 

The image of it’s form, though too far away to make out any details, still stuck in my mind. Horns, fire, smoke… it seemed an awfully ominous thing to dream about right before a mission.

 

I sure hope that it wasn’t a premonition of things to come.

 

Getting some sleep in before? A drake thought from his perch on the balcony railing. 

 

“Afternoon Gideon.” I laid my head back down against the book, though I was now wide awake. “Didn’t mean too. This botanical guide is just so boring…”

 

Then stop reading it. I’ve already discovered some likely candidates.

 

“It’s not like I have anything better to do.” I rubbed my eyes and looked out into the sky. Sure enough, twelve green stars sat low on the southern skies in the rough shape of a spear, heralding the coming of winter. “Do you know what bell it is?”

 

People in the capital, which shared Verol’s name, kept time with the huge stone bell tower standing over the entrance to the highest layer of the city. It rang out sixteen times a day during the daylight hours, which was analogous to the twenty-four hour structure of Earth, only that it thankfully did not toll during eight hours of the night. Minutes were called ‘shortbells’ here as well, though the tower didn’t announce their passage.

 

Really, the similar timing to Earth had marked me as more than a little coincidental at first, but it really just seemed like the power of sixes and twelves stretched across dimensions.

 

Past fifteen. Gideon said. It’s almost time.

 

Stretching as I got up, I mentally went through my preparations. For the common folk, work almost universally ended at the fourteenth bell, and this warehouse should be no exception. 

 

I was still bringing a knife though.

 

“Come on then, let's get on with it.”

 

I held out an arm for Gideon to climb up, and after he had settled upon my head I left the study, making sure to put my book back before I left into the upstairs hall. Knocking on Marcolo’s door I shouted out.

 

“I’m going to bed early today!”

 

“Alright!” A voice cried back. “Sweet dreams.”

 

You should’ve said that a few hours ago, Marcolo.

 

“Good night.” 

 

I made my way to my room, carefully closing and locking the door behind me. Then I rummaged around through my drawers, taking out the outfits and small items I’d hidden throughout the day. As Saphry didn’t own many black clothes, I made due with the darkest clothes I could find, that being a dark grey pair of pants, and a dark blue button up shirt. It perhaps wasn’t the sneakiest thing in existence, but when covered with a dark coat I figured I wouldn’t stand out too much. Still, I made a mental note to acquire plainer clothes for the future.

 

Wouldn’t want to stick out as a noble if I could help it, I’d be liable to get mugged by a bunch of down-to-earth thieves who needed the money to afford medicine, and I had no time in the schedule for a side quest like that.

 

A knife, surprisingly enough, was something Saphry already had in her room. It was ornately designed with small images of the four pointed star, but was still sturdy and sharp, obviously intended to be used. I wasn’t planning on stabbing anyone, but after the last time I left the house I wasn’t too keen on travelling unarmed.

 

I didn’t bring too much else, just a small enchanted lantern and two lengths of rope, because rope literally always came in handy. I could be grocery shopping and still somehow find a use for the stuff. 

 

After I had stashed everything away and donned my winter coat I leaned out of the bay window and looked around, making sure nobody was waiting on the street or in the windows of the surrounding houses. 

 

When nobody came to sight I tied one end of the rope to my bed, testing it with a few sturdy pulls before I trusted the knot and threw the other end over the side. 

 

Taking a step through the window, I took a deep breath as I looked down at the alley a story below.

 

Are you even strong enough to go down that? Gideon gazed sceptically at my arm. Let alone come back up.

 

“I’ve done it before.” I stepped up to the sill, swinging one leg over the side. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

 

But Saphry hasn’t.

 

“I have to. He’d hear me if I opened any of the doors. They’re too squeaky.” I yanked on the rope again, just in case.

 

It still seems like a bad idea. Just like this whole business tonight.

 

“My life was built on the backs of bad ideas that sometimes worked.” I said. “As long as I do those bad ideas confidently I’ll be fine.”

 

Gideon growled.

 

Just don’t get killed.

 

“That’s the plan.”