Chapter 21: The Alchemy Manual

“Thank you very much for your gift, Mr. Calandil. I will study your masterpiece diligently!”

Joan accepted the book with both hands, bowing deeply once more to the half-elf physician, his gratitude beyond words.

When Joan returned home, excitement still bubbled within him, making it impossible to settle down. He even forgot to eat, lighting an oil lamp and eagerly flipping through the “Beginner’s Handbook of Alchemy and Potion-Making” that Calandil had given him. Immersed in his reading, he was startled by the sound of barking outside the window—Conti had returned with Jamie from visiting their grandfather.

“I haven’t seen you all day—where did you go off to?” Conti burst in, unable to contain her curiosity about Joan’s whereabouts.

Joan had anticipated her question and had already written a brief account of his day. He silently handed her the letter.

Conti was long accustomed to his peculiar habit of remaining silent whenever possible. She took the letter, read it, and her eyes sparkled.

“Collecting leeches by the edge of the swamp? That’s strange. What’s good about leeches that people would actually pay for them? Hmm, it does sound interesting—can I come with you tomorrow?”

Joan shook his head firmly, then bent over his desk and quickly listed several reasons why she could not accompany him. For instance, the environment near the swamp was terribly harsh—dirty, foul-smelling, and swarming with mosquitoes—hardly a place for a girl who liked cleanliness. Besides, he needed to focus completely on remotely controlling “Mage Hand” to catch leeches, leaving him no attention to spare for chatting with Conti, let alone entertaining her. She would surely find it boring. Most importantly, Conti was not adept at “Mage Hand” or similar spells, so she couldn’t be of much help and would only waste precious time. Not that Conti had anything pressing to do at home; every day she simply strolled the town with her dog or hunted in the woods, visiting the little dryad Myra along the way, living a carefree and happy life.

Seeing the entire page Joan had written, looking so serious, Conti could only pout and reluctantly agree to stay in town. Afterwards, she kept him company for a while, mostly speaking to herself as she recounted the day’s events, while Joan listened quietly, occasionally tearing off a piece of bread to eat. After he finished his dinner and Conti finished her stories, she yawned and went off to rest.

Joan washed his face with cold water to refresh himself, then, as was his habit, began studying his spellbook. Since he had already mastered the three cantrips described within—Mage Hand, Clairvoyance, and Ray of Frost—an hour spent reviewing the gestures and incantations was sufficient.

He closed the spellbook at the end of his studies, still feeling unsatisfied, longing to learn new spells. Unfortunately, it was difficult to acquire magical resources in this small town; he could only rely on luck.

Fortunately, aside from magic, Joan now had a whole new field of knowledge to explore. He opened the “Beginner’s Handbook of Alchemy and Potion-Making” and continued reading from where he had left off.

After the little interlude with Conti, Joan’s mind was calm once more. He realized he owed Mr. Calandil a great debt—a troubling feeling for someone who prided himself on self-reliance, but he had no choice but to accept the kindness.

That afternoon, braving the scorching sun and swarming insects in the foul-smelling swamp to gather leeches, Joan had realized he had no desire to do such menial work forever. The leeches he collected with so much effort would only be enough for Mr. Calandil to brew a single vial of potion. Yet, working for just two hours in his tidy laboratory, Calandil could sell that one vial for a profit far greater than the commission paid to Joan.

Joan didn’t want to spend his life running errands and doing odd jobs like gathering leeches. He aspired to work as Calandil did. To achieve that, he couldn’t be content with just earning a few coins through hard labor; even after an exhausting day, he forced himself to study new knowledge. Only knowledge had the power to change his fate.

Joan poured himself a cup of warm water, took out the “Tear of the Gods,” and soaked it in the cup for a minute. After removing the gem, he drank the water infused with magical energy in one gulp, quickly feeling his exhaustion melt away, his body reinvigorated.

Not wasting the effects of the potion, Joan read as fast as he could, studying until the early hours of the morning, by which time he had finished the handbook from cover to cover. He accumulated many questions during his reading, all of which he carefully recorded on scrap paper, intending to consult Dr. Calandil at the clinic first thing the next morning.

Unaware of the passing of time, he heard roosters crowing outside as dawn approached. Joan put away his books, washed up quickly, and lay down to rest his weary body, falling into a deep sleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

The next morning, as the sky in the east just began to lighten, Joan rose early out of long-standing habit. After a quick breakfast, he hurried out, arriving at Mr. Calandil’s clinic before the church bell struck six.

Neither Joan nor Calandil were talkative. After exchanging morning greetings, they got to work. This was Joan’s first time inside a proper alchemical laboratory, and the array of glass instruments and ceramic crucibles on the workbenches dazzled him.

Dr. Calandil gave him a tour of the main instruments and ingredients. Since Joan had already read the handbook the previous night, he had some foundation and basic impressions of the devices and materials introduced. As an assistant, he performed respectably—at the very least, when Calandil sent him for an instrument, he didn’t fetch the wrong one.

Calandil was very satisfied with Joan’s performance on his first day as an assistant. With the help of this clever young man, work that usually took two hours was finished in just an hour and a half. Afterwards, while sipping coffee, Calandil listened as Joan, notebook in hand, raised the questions he had encountered during his studies the previous night, answering them offhandedly.

Calandil was not much of an orator, but his explanations were precise and concise—and, most importantly, he was patient, never moving on to the next question until Joan fully understood. Over the years, Joan had met no real teachers except his grandfather, and Calandil’s guidance made him realize how precious it was to have a good mentor. His gratitude for the physician ran deeper still.

When the church bells rang again, it was time for the clinic to open for the day. Joan bade farewell to the doctor, shouldered the wooden box lined with damp sawdust, and strode out into the sunlight, ready for another day’s work.

By dusk, Joan returned from the swamp to town. He had collected more than fifteen hundred leeches that day, which he exchanged at Calandil’s for sixteen bright gold ducats, making his purse ever heavier.