“… seven silver coins and seven copper ones. However, Ihaveto warn you. The first quarter teaches you not only the basics of alchemy but also the basics of our craft. You will need to learn how to write, how to weigh and how to measure. It won’t be easy.”
This time, Kraghtol’s confidence was not fake. He couldn’t tell Mrs. Urdson without endangering his false identity, but his foster father had taught him all of that already.
“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Urdson, but I think I’ll manage. So, I would like to try that.”
“Very well,” she nodded again. “The Alchemists’ Guild graciously covers the cost of the permit of literacy with the Scribes for you, by the way. You won’t have to pay extra for that. Now.”
She folded the sheet and put it into an envelope.
“You are in luck. The admission board, comprising the local guild master and the higher-ranking teachers of the school, meets new students every Oathday evening and decides about their admission. I will forward your application right now, so if you want, you can present yourself to the admission board this very evening. I believe this aligns with your… hurried approach.”
Kraghtol felt a lump in his throat. He hadn’t expected it to be that soon, and he didn’t know what to expect, but he nodded. He had to. This was his chance.
“Thank you, Mrs. Urdson. Really.”
The secretary just nodded and instructed him to return an hour later when the admission board would meet him. As they shook hands, she even smiled a surprisingly warm smile.
“Good luck, Krasen. I hope you make it.”
The following hour was the longest since his alchemical transformation. The fall winds had picked up, and he shivered, but there was not enough time to go to his room to seek shelter. He had nothing to do and didn’t want to loiter around the guild office, so he wandered over the empty marketplace. From there, he had a good view of the clock tower where he had hidden himself just this morning, and watched the hands crawl slowly over the face of the clock. The minutes passed with agonizing slowness. Finally, after what felt like ages, it was time to return to the office. It was almost entirely dark now, and the people of Winterstone had lit lanterns on the streets and inside the buildings, turning the cold stone walls into a warmer and more welcoming sight. When he entered the office, Mrs. Urdson greeted him.
“Ah, Krasen. Just on time. The admission board has agreed to see you. And since you are the only applicant, we can begin immediately if you are ready.”
Kraghtol nervously straightened his clothes. Suddenly, he could think of a million things he could have done to prepare for this meeting in the brief hour he had spent wandering around. Would therebe some kind of test? A quiz? For a second, his thoughts jumped as quickly as they had before taking the potion, but he calmed himself. Whatever it was, he would do his best.
Still, when he entered the back room, he clenched his jaw in nervous anticipation. The room was lit by a multitude of candles and lanterns, bathing the long table at the rear end in a warm and steady light. Behind the table, four figures sat on cushioned chairs, clad in the traditional dark green robes of the alchemists’ guild. One robe, belonging to the man in the middle seat, was considerably more adorned than the others, and the rim had a rich, golden sheen to it. The man wearing it had to be the local guild master, Thalen Virex, if Kraghtol remembered the name from the rejection letter correctly. At least fifty years had etched lines onto his face, and he sported well-groomed graying hair and beard. But the most unusual feature of his appearance was the multitude of small tattoos covering his skin. They looked like winding glyphs, seemingly randomly scattered over his face, and no two of them looked alike.
Next to this imposing man sat a woman, about twenty years younger but clearly high-ranking as well. Her face was stern and composed, and Kraghtol could almost tangibly feel her eyes scrutinizing him.
Two more men sat on the left and right sides of the table: one with white hair and glasses, behind which sparkling green eyes betrayed an unusually sharp mind, and one with long silvery hair but youthful skin. Only at second glance, Kraghtol noticed the pointed ears of an elf. And the elf was different in one more sense: he was the only onewho was smiling. While the woman wore an almost disapproving face, the other two men seemed to keep neutral expressions.
There was no chair on his side, but the table stood on a slightly elevated floor, putting the heads of the four almost at eye-level with him as the alchemist guild master leaned forward.
“Good evening. You must be Krasen from Caemdir.”
His voice was rich and conveyed natural authority.
“Y-yes. Thank you for having me.”
“I am Thalen Virex, local guild master of the Alchemists’ Guild here in Winterstone. Mrs. Elvara Quenning to my right is the school’s dean, responsible for all practical aspects of the education you seek to enroll in.”
The woman nodded in acknowledgment, and Kraghtol felt like he was being dissected under her gaze. Thalen continued.
“Also with us today are lecturer Holen Merress, who teaches the history of alchemy and ethical use, and master Rendon Myrr, specializing in higher alchemy.”
He nodded first towards the elf and then towards the man on the left.
“Now, Krasen. Tell us: why are you here?”
“Oh, I… I want to join the school. As a student,” Kraghtol stammered, but it didn’t take the dean’s mildly annoyed look to understand this was not what the guild master meant. He tried again.
“I mean, I want to learn. Alchemy has always fascinated me, and I want to… understand it. How it works. What makes the clock tower tick.”
He smiled happily, particularly proud of the last sentence. However, the committee’s reaction was not as expected: heads turned and eyebrows rose until the elf answered in a melodic voice.
“Very few people know the clock tower is driven by alchemy. How did you come by this knowledge?”
Kraghtol’s heartbeat quickened. Now that he thought about it, entering the tower was almost certainly not allowed, and he definitely didn’t want to admit to being a troublemaker right away. The elf was still smiling, but more than ever, Kraghtol felt the piercing attention of everyone in the room.
