Grand Saint Alloy

“Alright let me teach you the basics,” Hadrid said, “Pointing at a live ghost crab strapped to the table, “Alchemy is just a way to make research sound interesting.”

Tristan nodded along, he had a pen and paper in his hand and was paying attention. He had asked to learn how to make artifacts, but Hadrid had taken that to mean he wanted to learn alchemy. It was a sentiment that Tristan would not say no to. A general knowledge of alchemy would not help him as much right now, but it would streamline any self study he would need to do later.

“Everything in this world is composed of essence, with one exception,” Hadrid held up a finger, “That is the soul,”

“Are you saying my body is made of essence?” Tristan asked, getting ready to distill the answer he was about to be given.

“What do you think you are, some eldritch being from beyond reality? No, you’re a troll, and that means you’re made of essence and its associated forces,” Hadrid said, “You are almost seventy percent water, you have minerals, and metal, you need air, and energy to even be alive, while you need dark to eat and light to heal. So, not even dead people lack essence.”

Tristan simply wrote yes next to the question in his notes. The answer disturbed Tristan, if he was seventy percent water, did that mean that seventy percent of his body would be under Kerri’s control. Would he have to create some kind of counter measure? Would the force of alloy be able to bind this issue and turn it into a strength?

“The first step is that you need to project your essence into your victim, uh, your subject,” Hadrid corrected, “In the same way sound bounces off objects differently, your projection bounces off other essence in unique ways.”

Tristan placed his hand on the mythical beasts and tried to do what Hadrid said, and got nothing. He tried to force his essence past his skin, but couldn’t. His focus was so intent that he missed it when some of the decay floated in cracking his palm. Trista cursed and looked for something to wipe the dark grey blood off on. Then he realized that was a terrible idea, whatever he used would start falling apart.

“Control yourself, before you wreck my lab with your fluids,” Hadrid complained as he carefully expended a cloth to stop the ghost crab from rotting.

“You did this to me,” Tristan hissed back.

Hadrid gave him a ‘so what’ look, and turned back to his experiment, “If you had listened a little more, you would have known essence projection is a tier four thing, and reading the feedback tends to come at tier five. Though my testing pool for tier four and five is very limited. Do you think I could get a chance to see Siren.”

“Describe the process then,” Tristan said.

The request for Siren was a definite no. Elder Forest would never send out his most powerful warrior to the camp of the enemy for experimentation. Tristan was disappointed that he would have to wait two entire tiers to even start practicing alchemy. In the past he would simply sighed and passed it off as bad luck at birth, but now he simply nodded, he would eventually get there. It did explain why Hadrid was the only alchemist in the caldera.

Hadrid grumbled, “Demanding aren’t we?” Tristan raised an eyebrow, “Fine, Fine, every time you get offended, you stab my dignity.”

Tristan felt that was a fair assessment. He would be kinder to Hadrid, but the man did not really deserve it. So, Tristan would get what he needed without stepping over any moral boundaries.

He started writing when Hadrid started explaining, “With the force of infusion, alchemists can move essences and their related forces in and out of objects with no will. It is how I can make a fire artifact despite having a metal kern, though it is unlike other artifacts. Mine are better in some ways, worse in others. As they run on a reservoir they need to be recharged, but can keep running until that reservoir is empty. Regular artifacts are constantly fueled by the wielder, however, they are made of stronger materials, so they are always sturdier. This advantage means that they can only be wielded by a person with a matching kern.”

“It sounds simple, and it is, but it does take incredible finesse to alter a material without destroying it. Adding fire to a dagger should result in a puddle of slag, so other forces need to get involved, and some of those are very expensive or rare. The dagger mentioned, required the force of conductivity to keep the heat from transferring into the grip, and dissipation to push it out into the environment. Both those are hard to get ahold of, as they can’t be grown in a lab like decay.”

“Does that limit its tier?” Tristan asked. His knives were tier one and had two of these. One for hardness and one for upkeep, as it never rusted.

“Yes, it would be a minimum of tier two for normal use, but it would be tier three if you wanted it to be for combat, as carving butter and starting campfires takes way less essence than combusting a person.” Hadrid walked around the ghost crab.

Tristan noticed a gel pack sitting on a hot plate. He wondered what Hadrid was doing when he picked it up and stabbed it with the ghost crabs stinger. The stinger convulsed and an egg was ejected into the gel pack.

Hadrid made a gesture for Tristan to follow, “When modifying living creatures, you need to get to them early, before conception if possible. The will needs to be absent, and as soon as the heart starts beating, a will is present. Even if it is merely the will to survive. The golize were the experimental combination of the battle prowess of a drake, the dietary freedom of a goat, and the loyalty of a shepherd dog. I consider them mostly successful.”

“Augmenting something to create something new is incredibly difficult, an alchemist needs to change the forces in such a way as to allow the organism to survive without unbalancing the whole structure. Whoever put the original system together was a genius.”

Tristan frowned, “You mean the gods?”

Hadrid shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m not a god. Also the Elder’s gods of earth, light, fire, and water are stupid. Well at least it was not them if they do exist. The system works too well to be built by a group in conflict with itself.”

Tristan could only shrug. He had a kern that matched the demon lord in the Caldera’s temple. Being in a religious group was actually dangerous for him, considering his silver blood.

“What the Elders are paying me to do here is actually very simple. They want me to create a plague, however that is about the dumbest thing I have ever heard of. They tend to get out of control and mutate,” Hadrid slapped the ghost crabs carapace, “This girl will give me an unlimited number of patients to experiment on.”

Hadrid dug the egg out of the gel and placed it on a glass to table. It had a magnifying glass, which Hadrid pushed aside. He retrieved a piece of paper and a pencil and sat down. Placing a hand on top of the egg he closed his eyes and stilled.

At first Tristan was confused, then he realized that Hadrid was projecting his essence. Tristan was not able to do that yet, however his essence control had to be on the high side. Back at the mine, Luke had made sure he could find metal objects blindfolded. It was not a skill that had been very useful, as it required concentration. However, right now, there was no threat, Tristan could focus.

He felt for the resonance with all the metal around him. His metal sense was much stronger now, as he was two entire tiers higher. The entire lab was made of metal. Enough was present to make Tristan believe that the alchemist was the mine’s biggest customer. Then he focused on Hadrid. He was a massive concentration of metal essence, Tristan had seen steel statues of Elder Forest with less essence in them.

Tristan followed the essence as it was projected into the egg. It was more of a pulse, like ripples on a pond. When the ripples impacted something they would change. The pattern warped when it hit the egg, wrapping around some parts and ricocheted off of others. Tristan had no idea what it meant, he guessed a lot of information was being lost in observation. He would be able to feel his own essence and briefly wondered if it could be used as some sort of three hundred and sixty degree vision.

He was so engrossed in what was going on that when Hadrid jumped to his feet he almost stumbled back into the crab, “You piece of golize excrement!”

“What, what happened?” Tristan asked.

Hadrid turned to him, he was angry, “These aren’t crabs at all, they’re plants, and they’re not natural. Someone made them, and no it wasn’t a god.”