Kraghtol’s interruption caught Mrs. Hawke off-guard.
“Forget about that. That is a highly advanced topic, and it’s uncertain if you will ever learn about it. Because, as I was saying, not everyone is chosen to study higher alchemy. Most of the students graduate with a solid basic knowledge, which is more than enough to produce alchemical mixtures from most existing recipes.”
Slow realization set in, and Kraghtol’s eyes grew wide. He didn’t know how to feel about this new revelation regarding the depth of his education. But this way, he wouldn’t be able to solve his heating problem by himself. He hardly had time to ruminate on that thought, though, as another pushed itself to the forefront. He wouldn’t be able to recreate the potion that made him human like that.
“What about the teachers, then?” Kraghtol asked quickly, grasping at any straw. “I mean, you are an alchemist and even graduated with the highest honors.Youmust be able to make your own recipes, right?”
Mrs. Hawke stared out the window into the dark city for a long moment before answering in an almost apologetic tone.
“I could — perhaps. But my contract forbids me from doing so. The last thing Iinvented…”
The way she pronounced the last word gave Kraghtol a chill down his spine.
“… it was a long time ago, before I began teaching. Now, if you would excuse me, Mr. Krasen?”
Her voice was not quite back to normal, but betrayed a certain bitterness that had not been there before. Even after she was long gone, Kraghtol couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her. And what rule she had broken.
Her words haunted Kraghtol in the days that followed. As instructor Flint, the dwarf teacher for practical application, didn’t tire of stressing, free experimenting was prohibited for students, as it was seen as a waste of resources and too dangerous. And, judging by what had happened when he was following the beginner recipe to the letter, Kraghtol felt inclined to believe the latter.
Still, he didn’t like what he had heard one bit. Not only did it mean he would have to manage without warmth and tea in his practice, but it also meant he was inevitably running into a problem. He had mulled over the words of his mysterious patient countless times in his head, and he had clearly said the potion would make him human — for a while. He cursed himself for not asking the obvious question, ‘How long will it last?’ back then, but even without that answer, it was clear he would get into trouble, eventually.
And there was another thing, which was way less of a practical implication, but gnawed on the half-orc in disguise, nevertheless. Whenever he had dreamed about becoming an alchemist as a child, he had always thought they were limitless. That, given the right exotic ingredients and a bubbling cauldron, they could do most anythingthey set their minds on. Now, however, that vision had lost some of its magic. Alchemical mixtures still defied the laws of the mundane, but all of a sudden, the unlimited freedom was gone, replaced by the prospect of brewing the same ten recipes over and over again. And the only way for him to avoid that was not only being good, but being one of the best, so he would be allowed to study higher alchemy.
While Kraghtol could do nothing to solve these new challenges now, at least he had resolved an old one. His practice saw more patients every week, and while not enough for getting rich, it made him enough money to allow him not to worry about his finances for the very first time since he arrived in the city. Even though he had quit his evening job in the warehouse, after a few weeks he had accumulated enough money not only to pay for his next quarter but also to retrieve his gold coin from the pawnshop.
Aniriel continued to visit from time to time, and it was good to have someone to talk to in-between treatments, even though he could not tell hereverything. It was one of those slow Freeday afternoons when there was another knock on the door, louder and more forceful than usual.
Thinking nothing about it, Kraghtol went to open the door, only to find himself in front of a trio of intimidating women and men clad in the practical uniform of the orderkeepers. He immediately recognized the mustache of the man at the front. It was the same orderkeeper he had met when working for Calder.
“Mr. Krasen from Caemdir?”
The voice was icy and official, and Kraghtol felt his pulse quicken.
“Y-yes?”
“I am Roderic Hawke, Fist of the Guilds. You stand accused of illegally practicing healing without approval or membership in the Guild of Healing and Bodycraft. And,” he added, “subsequently, the guild has found you charging unapproved prices for your services. Not to mention the missing fees and taxes.”
Kraghtol was already speechless, but the orderkeeper had not finished.
“Additionally, you are without a doubt guilty of using city-owned buildings without a permit, possibly breaking and entering important city infrastructure and endangering the orderly conduct of business in the city. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
The world was falling down around Kraghtol, and the onset of panic must have been clearly visible on his face.
“But — but I didn’t mean to…”
His voice cracked, and he had to gulp. How was this possible? He had been so careful! But as much as he tried to come up with an excuse, everything the orderkeeper had said was the truth.
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought —”
“That much is clear. What is beyond me, though, is how you could have assumed to stay secret. This building in particular is under constant scrutiny by the Guild of Peace, given its history, and having your…customerswalk in freely like that…”
There was not even a hint of compassion in the stern man’s voice.
“The council of justice has ruled that the appropriate punishment for these offenses is a penalty payment of one hundred gold coins, which includes compensation for the offended parties and the fees for the Guild of Peace conducting a council of justice.”
Now, the voice wasn’t just cold and unemotional. Instead, Kraghtol was sure to detect a trace of mockery. And something inside him snapped. Hot anger was rising.
“That’s… that’s not fair! I didn’t even get a chance to speak to the council. And how am I supposed to pay one hundred gold coins?!”
