(Finished) The Alchemist’s Dilemma
(September 7th, version:)
I sit down and hold the alabaster quill in my fingers until the stem nearly cracks in my grip. I scratch out the lines heavily before ripping the page. I practice steadying my breath for three cycles.
I open my desk drawer and take a fresh piece out. I angle the tip on the scrap of paper and begin:
Dear Headmistress of the Alchemist Council,
I have tried to write this letter many times and never has the anger subsided enough for me to put into words how I feel. Perhaps my issue was not starting at the root of the problem. Imagine if you would, it is the start of the year. A new alchemist has been accepted into your academy, whose research is exploratory and interesting. They work for months and months on a new potion only to present it to your Council. Something feels off so they send you a letter explaining the situation:
I understand you are quite busy with the new semester and while I would’ve liked to do this in person, I simply cannot wait for your schedule to open and this has plagued me for far too long. I would not bother you unless the issue held weight—it does.
I have been the subject of ostracism and plagiarism—something I am used to as an experimental alchemist specializing in quality of life rather than the main four pillars (health, infrastructure, environmental, and curses) however, my research has been the building blocks for all types. My first potion showcase housed a flask of immune-strength which the professors sampled and applied to their pillars. I did not receive credit, which is fine. I thought they changed the formula using the base ingredients of my potion; but, imagine my surprise when I went to a demonstration and they changed absolutely nothing! When I tried asking them about it they iced me out, and called me a thief.
A unique quality in my flask was that it was not created for organic material only, which I remember telling you. I should’ve known. I originally created it for my mother and her golem—who’d be crumbling over the years—since the health and infrastructure could not agree on whose problem it fell under. As you know, golem’s are issued to those with limited mobility. My mother was distraught that her golem, which could not be replaced on her retirement salary, would need to be decommissioned. I would not have that. I was already experimenting with a wealth potion (increases the luck of stumbling upon currency for those in need) and thought I could make something for her.
You will remember I asked you beforehand if I could be patented—you said “of course, I have the paperwork right here”—but I took those papers home and found that they would hand over my creation to your Council. What a surprise that was! So you must be thinking what have I sent this letter for then, if I knew of your ruse?
Unfortunately for you, I did patent my creation. Weeks ago—after you gave me those fake papers, I wanted to end the institution you so covet…but I thought “why end there?” If I simply admitted about your deception you would deny it and have me suspended. I couldn’t have that—my mother needs her golem, as do countless others—so I went to a friend.
Ishigura, whom you might have heard of, is the best defence lawyer in these lands. They told me to wait, get a patent, and catch your professors in the act. Luckily for me, your curse professor is disorganized and needed time before they presented their “research”. I do not blame them, as I confronted her and she confessed. You coerced them into it (I don’t truly believe your professors couldn’t argue against that) and took the proceeds for yourself. A big mistake, leaving a paper trail for the detectives to follow.
This letter will get to you a moment or two before them—if you even read it.
I needed to get this off my chest. You have no idea how long these last few months have seemed, how crazy I felt trying to help. You nearly made me succumb to rage, to destroying everything you loved. Instead I understood how important the Council is, when unbiased they can help many communities, for future research. I am being appointed your successor and I hope I can reverse the damage you’ve done.
Best wishes,
The Alchemist you overlooked.
(September 21st edition; this type of story telling takes some time to get used to but I will add context clues to help):
Dear Alchemist,
You must be happy with yourself. I find myself in prison with only your letter to read, I’ve only been here a week. How often do you think I’ve read your self-satisfied words. Do you know what would’ve happened had I credited you? An amateur? The council would’ve though I lost my mind. You think I am the problem, and maybe I was your direct opponent, but I am not.
The council worked hard for decades to create useful research, to them you lucked out. To them, your particular circumstances with your mother’s golem opened up a unique goal for you to reach. Would you have pursued this line of research without it?
Perhaps you think I should’ve told you about the council, as though they were not questioning my part already, or arranging to pay you for your time? I bet you said yes, do you think me stupid enough to leave a paper trail just so that you receive justice for your part? You could’ve lived under the radar with this genius, the council had agreed to raise you to intermediate classes along with shipping a new golem to your mother.
The guard is tapping his watch, so I need to wrap up this letter.
Foolish child, I am no longer in charge,
The Once-Headmistress
Dear Once-Headmistress,
Perhaps you thought I would’ve been happy with a new golem for my mother, not the root of the problem mind, with a new personality? Or did you forget that golems were sentient? My golem’s name is Gruff, named herself, and loves my mother dearly and would be devastated to leave her for a newer model. I created the potion as a universal utility, it is meant to apply to most (if not all) fields. So to answer your question, yes I am happy. I worked hard as well to fill the holes created through division.
I do not know if the council is as petty as you claim, I have yet to see—though they could be lying. I am not foolish, I know the decision was not your own—you answer to the council. I’ve been to public forums before I joined, and any question you attempted to answer was first addressed by the council. What better place for me to stay than amongst the people in charge? I do not hope to pretend I can take them all down, but there has to be voices that are louder.
You disrespected me, and paid as I saw fit. I know you are exaggerating; your sentence is only a few years. What I do know is if you credited me, defying the council at the same time, you would’ve proved yourself to be more than a figurehead. Imprisoning you was a show of strength, for this is all a part of my strategy.
I am still angry at you, as the council has accepted me into their ranks—one day to take your position.
Best wishes,
Alchemist
Dear Alchemist,
You do not know me; you have seen me. I am a member of the council, forgive me for not using my name. I cannot risk being found out. You have done something great by taking away the headmistress. She was an imposing figure—threatening and coercing our hands—and one not to be trifled with. You have done us a great honour by giving us more room to voice our opinions.
Meet me at the pub called Knocks & Whistles when the thrush calls thrice. An associate of mine will be wearing a white suit with a yellow hat to meet you there, as I cannot be seen with you. I hope you take my offer.
An anonymous friend
Dearest Friend,
I thank you for your offer but I am not free at this very moment, I have quite a bit of business since the news of the past few weeks came to light.
Did you hear? A newspaper seems to be posting about the truth of the events leading to her imprisonment—a shame that the council could not remain unscathed. They say an anonymous tipper gave them insider knowledge about the inner workings of the council. I wonder where they got that from.
Take that as a kind offer to never contact me again, this is your only warning.
I’ve attached a copy of the paper,
Alchemist.
Dear Cadmire,
Someone has leaked our plans, I do not know how. I have my doubts about some of our council, do you think Imogen lost her nerve? Or Derian suddenly had a moral awakening?
I have my people watching those two, may you look into the other two? I fear you are the only one I can trust.
More instructions will follow,
Theria
Theria,
I’ve done as you asked and learned something very interesting; you have had contact with the headmistress. I thought we agreed to leave her in silence? What have you been whispering to her? Your plans on shutting us down perhaps? I will not go down without a fight.
Always watching,
Cadmire.
Dear Once-Headmistress,
One day I will need to learn you name, your title has no meaning now. I know it has been almost a year but I have been busy. I’ve placed a plan in motion, one I think you would agree with. It was clever, something underhanded, to smoke out the weasels. I knew based on your letter and testimony at the trial that there was more at work. I needed to be seen involved with boisting about my win over you—to appear confident in my win.
It worked like a charm. A few weeks later, I received correspondance asking for my presence at a pub in the middle of the night. You and I both know that is an ambush waiting to happen, so I refused. Instead, I sent along a fake article about certain underhanded goings-on to spread paranoia… I’d read it in a book once, I didn’t think it would work as well and for a while it did not. Then! it happened.
I had to make sure to be close to them to hear the news, so I’ve been posing as a newsboy. It is funny how wearing a hat and a tan suit completely removes gender and makes those around you trust you implicitly.
Anyway, I delivered the “note” to all of them, just in case, and they must have stewed on it…letting the doubt seep into their flesh, into every interaction, until someone acted out of turn. Another thing I hadn’t planned for was for one of them to contact you! As though trying to clear their consciousness…
It went perfectly, they all met at that same pub they tried to lure me to—like fools!—and right into the arms of the detective force. I worked with the same one who put you behind bars, she liked how I caught you and saw potential in me.
Funny how often I must prove myself to every pillar in our society.
This letter has been all over the place for the excitement takes over every time I think of it.
In a few moments, as your sentence comes to an end, you will walk past your old posse—that’s right! The entire council will be locked away for far longer than you were. I am mad at your spinelessness but I will grant you the gift of smugness.
An unlikely friend, I suppose it is time to reveal my name, it is:
Marigold; Alchemist Extraordinaire, Detective-friend, and strategist.
