Heavy breaths, pounding heartbeats, restless legs, a hard thing pressed against a back. A small box clutched to a breast. Tears -no sobbing-, no moving, nothing.
This is how a night of battle was spent by a young student who has never seen death.
Shaking hands fiddled with the clasp on the box. It opened. Practiced hands unstoppered a small vial, ready to assemble a recipe that has been mixed hundreds of times. Clearoil, sulfur, flashrock, and a pinch of salt.
The vial heats up as a small flame grows inside, illuminating the small crawlspace between her room and her master's room. The box was a dull red and small, about the size of her chest. The flame grew brighter.
It was a simple recipe, which was why it was the first she learned. Muddling the ratios only caused it to burn more quickly, or not at all. That's why she'd been able to do it in the dark.
She took a moment to listen. Perhaps she should've done this before mixing a lamp?
Oh well, too late now, she thought. You couldn't put this fire out. Or, rather, you shouldn't. Stoppering the vial would cause it to explode rather than suffocating it.
She heard nothing, so she opened the crawlspace on her side, and crawled out, reaching back in for the box and the lamp.
The study was surprisingly neat, by the standards of a besieged city. One of the advantages of being rather difficult to find. It was where she spent most of her time, either learning or sleeping at the desk. More than one book had been nearly ruined by drool.
The only thing that was out of place was a small note perched lightly on the open pages of the book she was currently studying. It was marked with her Master's seal.
It came to her attention that her whole body was shaking now. She nearly dropped the lamp. In a hurry, she sat at the desk, forgoing placing the lamp in its right place, and instead using it to melt the wax of the seal, as her Master had taught her. No sense in wasting good wax. She opened it, smoothing it out on the desk with her paperweights. She had to, her hands were shaking so much that she couldn't read it if she held it.
Dear Monika,
Due to a development last night, I've had to leave on orders. I apologise for not telling you this in person, it could have endangered you.
As I will not be around to teach you, you are permitted to enter my study and take the following books:
The Humors; A Word On Ailments
The Fundamental Concepts
Brief Discussion on the Paradoxes of Minerals
The Compendium of Flora
A Treatise on Alchemy With a Philisophical Dialogue
Luther's Encyclopedia
A Cautionary Tale
This collection should all expand on what you know. Except "The Fundamental Concepts," but one should always carry a copy of this.
Ever apologetic,
Master Georges Giacomo-Tussain
She folded the note neatly, attempting to compose herself, but she had so many questions and not enough answers. Why didn't he at least say goodbye? Where is he? Orders? From who?
Is he dead?
A raw and shrill scream cut through the morning air. The first sound she had made in hours.
"Help! Please someone help! Please oh please, what's happening? Heeeeelp!"
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