Chapter 1 - An alchemist's work is never
1309 – 24th April - Morndas
I have long considered keeping a recollection of my days, thoughts, and other such ongoings. It is within these pages I intend to detail the ongoings throughout my life, so long as I remain enthused to do so.
I am an Alchemist by trade, a vocation marred in difficulties and expectations. Despite this, I have overcome the highest of standards placed upon me by my forebears. My concoctions flourish and the village I inhabit reaps the rewards of such success.
However, there are those that consider the art of alchemy foreboding. I personally would have thought the plight of necromancy plaguing our kingdom was far worse, alas it is not. Who would have thought the creation of remedies and potions would be held in a worsening view, over that of the reanimating of the dead! I must express my frustration within these parchment pages, for should I express them openly I would surely be burnt at the stake.
The Arcum Rapture inquisitors are by far the most persistent, nay, the most abhorrent organisation I have come to know. To even denounce their religion through a simple hand gesture would leave one fingerless! To denounce aloud...I have seen the terrors they inflict.
It is for that reason I remain as quiet as the field mouse in the throes of religion. I prefer to set about grinding ingredients with my mortar and pestle and setting a flame the fire beneath my calcinator.
1309 25th April – Tudurnas
A new day, a new dawn. Upon awakening this morning, the beams of golden sunlight washed upon my skin; the warmth was most comforting. Admittedly, I struggled to will myself to my feet, but eventually, the call of the cockerel urged some haste. Upon its calling many of the townsfolk arise from their slumber, which for me means potential patrons I can rarely afford to miss.
My first patron was a kind elderly gentleman from across the way. He has lived within this village his entire life and is very well known. Unfortunately, he was suffering from an awful case of ‘nettle boils’; a most uncomfortable condition that causes irritating red welts to sprout along the skin.
Fortunately for him I have seen this many a time, and so I supplied him with a salve formed from the viscous expulsions of the Aloe plant and ground lavender sprigs. This remedy is a rather standard creation and has so many wonderful applications, often placed upon burns. The addition of a winters-bane berry found upon mountainous slopes drastically increases its healing properties. Alas, these berries can be difficult to acquire as the bushes upon which they grow are seldom found, thus a royal declaration forbids the harvesting of them at this time.
In fact, there are several declarations in place that inhibit the practice and progression of alchemy. The guards are staunch enforcers, not a soul would challenge them. Thus, I am limited to the basics. Treading carefully has become a way of life, for the gallows and pyres are ever watchful.
1309 30th April – Fridya
Oh, what busy few days have passed me. The elderly gentleman had found his nettle boils were no more the morning following his purchase. This led to him praising my salve throughout the town, particularly because his skin had, as he put it “smoothed like the softened touch of a Farron's feather”. Consequently, I was inundated with townsfolk, particularly high ladies, wishing too to have such soft supple skin.
My aloes are positively fatigued, nary a leaf left to soak up the enlightening sun. Fortunately, none of the townsfolk are aware of this. So, I have taken the risky decision to produce a growth potion. This is, of course, under royal proclamation an illegal practice. I cannot provide an answer as to why, but I suspect the court mage is responsible. Since taking up residence within his Majesty's castle the court mage has been steadfast in his banishment of several once commonly practiced professions.
I suspect, with a dash of ambiguity, this court mage seeks to remove those that thwart his position. There have been many muses that he is an ill fit for such a position, that his claim rests upon a shadow of a thread of evidence. However, I stave away the conjecture until an appropriate source provides hardened proof.
Political issues aside....In order to produce a growth potion I must venture outward from the town’s comforting safety. Certain necessary catalysts dwell within the deep of the forest’s lush domain. The Elmen wood is not to be feared, but to travel any deeper than a few miles would invite certain evils, for the deep wood mott is a foul and soulless place.
In the event of something untoward occurring, I have a series of phials with various defensive and offensive properties. My particular favourite, dragon’s scold, is very effective at driving away nefarious sorts or twisted creatures. Ironically, each phial is of a far greater difficulty to produce and catalysts rarer still. However, I would rather remain alive then dead, of course, and so they are worth the toil. Besides, I have had them stored for longer than I can recall.
Tonight, I shall venture forth. There is quite a fair bit of gathering to achieve and I would like to avoid any guard querying my activities. A simple evening’s stroll! That is what I shall bolster my response to them, should they question me...I dearly hope not.
