The Alchemist

by bkc56

2. A New Student

The elderly unicorn alchemist moved briskly through the streets of the town. He walked with purpose, each step laden with focus and intent. A light breeze blew his long blue mane to the side. His dark cape billowed slightly, revealing his tan coat. Lost in his thoughts, he would do little more than nod if greeted by somepony. Time was one of his most precious resources, and he resented anything that stole away any of that time, including eating, sleeping, or even walking.

He did, however, have one exception. The foals in the area all knew him. If spotted, he would be set upon by them clamoring for a trick or two. Feigning annoyance, he would create a display of colored fire and smoke for their amusement. He looked and moved like a younger stallion during these performances. It was almost as if the squeals of delight sucked the years from him as a poultice would suck the poison from a wound. Of course, it was a silly thought. Still, no one knew his actual age or could remember a time when he wasn't around.

He grinned as he thought about the various rumors and questions that followed him relentlessly. He would scoff at anypony who asked if he, being an alchemist, could turn elements into gold. Still, ponies watched with suspicious curiosity each month as he visited the money changer’s table. The gold nuggets and dust he put on the scale were real, or the money changer wouldn’t take it. Yet everypony knew there was no source of gold anywhere in the valley.

Another rumor told of how he was once attacked by a robber late at night. The alchemist threw something at the bandit, causing him to burst into flames. He was consumed by the fire with no trace left behind. Such stories were as hard to verify as they were to stop, but they served as a better defense than even his magic. No one wished to confront the alchemist who could cast death from his hooves.

He lived in an old stone house about a twenty-minute walk from the edge of town. It was nestled at the edge of a forest, or perhaps more accurately, it was part of the forest. One could walk past and never notice it. Even the smoke from the chimney seemed to be swallowed by the trees as if the forest itself conspired to hide him. And no visitors dared challenge the rumors by knocking at his door. The alchemist liked it that way, as time was short to complete his research and the consequences severe if he didn't.

Yet even his aversion to visitors had the exception of one particular filly.

Over four years ago, on the way home from one of his visits to the town, the alchemist saw a pack of colts who had cornered a young unicorn filly. He recognized the filly by her light blue-green coat and long dark red mane and tail. She was always present for his performances in town. She had been missing that day, and he now suspected this was the reason.

As he drew closer, he could hear the taunts. Following the noise, he looked down into the shallow gully that ran parallel to the road. The incline was sparsely covered with scattered underbrush, giving him a view of the small creek at the bottom. The water had eroded the far hillside, forming a steep face. The filly was perched on an outcropping about halfway up.

Several earth pony colts had her boxed in. They scampered around, barking and howling like wolves on the hunt. They teased her with talk of how she was a cornered fox they would soon get. He had to admit that crouched on the outcropping with her red mane spread over her shoulders, she did have a certain fox-like appearance.

Unfortunately, he could see where this was going. The pack was moving beyond simple taunts. Small branches and the occasional rock were striking the hillside around the filly. A rock crashed directly above her, showering her face with dirt. She shook her head. He winced as a colt bucked another rock. This one would slam into her. At the last moment the filly deflected it with magic.

He left the road and moved down the incline. Each measured step brought him closer to the pack. The colts were still fully focused on the “fox”. With their backs to him, his approach was unnoticed. The new spring grass made his approach as silent as a stalking predator. As he drew closer, he levitated a small paper-wrapped ball from his satchel.

He was close enough to touch them when he stopped, and yet he had still not been noticed. He reared up, towering over them. “So, you like being wolves? Perhaps as timberwolves you can fully enjoy the experience,” he boomed. Multiple pairs of eyes, wide in terror, stared up at him. Slapping his front hooves together, he crushed the paper ball. A thick gray smoke spilled out and quickly enveloped the colts. Using magic, he pulled vines and brambles from nearby bushes and wrapped them over each colt. A couple dropped to the ground and covered their heads with their legs. The rest kicked and bucked as the brambles poked at them. They then turned tail and ran, yelling in panic.

The alchemist turned his attention to the two colts still frozen in terror before him. Dropping to all fours, he looked directly at them. “Flee, you foals!”

The brambles scraped and poked them as they made their escape. The calm of the day broken with their shrieks of pain and terror. They were soon lost from view as they fled through the underbrush.

There would soon be a new rumor about the time he turned a pack of colts into timberwolves, temporarily, to teach them a lesson. Of course, the vines and brambles would fall off by the time the colts reached the town, so there would be no evidence of their transformation. A brief, almost invisible grin passed over his face.

He looked up at the filly. She was wide-eyed, but no longer afraid. It was an expression of wonder and awe.

The threat was gone, yet he didn’t feel he should leave her alone. He knew the farm where she lived with her family. Seeing her home would put him behind schedule. Still, the last few minutes spent teaching those colt bullies a lesson was worth a small delay.

"You may come down now," he started. "I will not harm you and see you safely home."

The filly climbed effortlessly down from her perch and trotted across the stream to where he was standing. Her ears went down as she craned her neck to look up at him towering over her. She lifted a hoof to step back, then changed her mind. In a soft voice she asked, "Would you have really turned those colts into timberwolves?"

"What do you think?"

She glanced at the ground and pawed at the grass a couple of times. After a moment she looked up again.

"No. You are an alchemist, not a wizard. You could scare them, but not change them." After a short pause, she added, "Thank you."

He allowed a slight smile to cross his face and gave a single nod. This girl was no fool and might have some potential. Without saying another word, he turned and headed towards the road. She followed, and they walked in silence until they reached the farm.

As they turned from the road and headed towards the rustic house, the alchemist looked down at the filly and asked, "What is your name?"

“Windflower. But everypony calls me Ann.”

“Why Ann?”

“I once asked my dad about my name. He said that windflowers are actually a number of different plants that grow in the forests and meadows around here. They’re my mom’s favorite, so that’s why I was named after them. He said they’re also called anemones.

“My brothers found that word funny, but they couldn’t say it correctly. So they started calling me Ann just to tease me. At first it made me mad. My mom told me that teasing only works if I let it. So I started answering when they called me Ann. It bugged them so much.” She laughed. “But I decided I liked the nickname. My parents still call me Windflower, but I’m Ann to everypony else.”

"Ann then. So be it," he said with a nod.

Ann’s father spotted them as they approached. He called out to the house, and soon her mom and siblings emerged. Ann was prancing with excitement as she and the alchemist got closer. She almost exploded as she told the tale of how the bullies chased her. As if doing a one-pony show, Ann played each of the parts as she described how the alchemist almost turned them into real timberwolves. She even hinted that some may have started to change as they escaped towards town. A glance at the alchemist told him she was even now playing into what would soon be a new rumor. Smart and clever.

He was invited to stay for dinner as thanks for his help, which he accepted. Pleased by his compliments on the food, Ann’s mother made an offer. For a weekly payment, she would prepare a little extra dinner each evening which Ann would deliver to the alchemist. This would save him precious time, provide him better meals, and give the family some sorely-needed extra income.

The next evening Ann showed up at the alchemist's house and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she knocked again. What should I do? This is the right time. Is he gone, or perhaps too busy to answer? After another pause, she carefully opened the door just a bit and leaned in. "It's Ann. I have your supper."

The alchemist was sitting at a large table piled high with books, papers, and a variety of containers. A number of spider webs suggested the piles had been undisturbed, perhaps for years. A book lay open in one of the few clear spots. A quill rapidly scratched on the page as he wrote. He did not look up. "Punctual, I see. That is good. You may place it on the table, and I shall eat presently."

Cautiously, she stepped into the room, walked over to the table, and placed the bundle in a small open area. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she looked around.

The front part of the house was one large living space, although it looked more like a library filled with bookshelves and cabinets. Every open area she saw was piled high with books, parchments, bags, flasks, and items she couldn’t identify. There was dust everywhere. She glanced down and noticed that even her hoofsteps kicked up small clouds. She looked at the ceiling and saw an abundance of cobwebs stretched from the support beams down to the high shelves. Even the cobwebs were dusty. To the back of the room were three darkened doors. Probably a kitchen and bedrooms, she thought to herself. She stifled a sneeze brought on by the dust and a number of strange odors in the room.

Ann startled when he broke the silence. "Thank you for bringing my dinner. If there is nothing else..." He did not look up from his work.

"No. I will pick up the crockery when I bring tomorrow's meal."

With that Ann carefully returned to the front door and softly closed it as she exited.

---

As time went by, Ann got in the habit of bringing her dinner too so she could eat with the alchemist. They seldom talked, but she felt comfortable in the house in a way she didn’t at home. Home felt like family. This felt… different.

Dinner was done, and they each sat at their respective tables. She decided it was time to ask a question that had been on her mind for some time.

She cleared her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

He looked up from his journal. “Yes?”

“All these books.” She gestured around the room with her hoof. “They show you can read. And I see that you can write. As an alchemist, you would be able to do numbers too."

He nodded. "Yes, that is all true."

“Will you teach me? Please?” She stood up from a small table where she ate and took a couple steps closer to the alchemist. “I want to read and write, and be able to do numbers. Please."

He shook his head. “I am very busy with my research. I have little time to spare to teach you.”

“But you do have some? A little? And I could pay you. Not with money, but with chores. I could do some dusting, or run errands, or do your weekly shopping. I could do things that would save you time, time you could use to teach me. I’ll work hard.”

He sat back in his chair. “And what of your parents?”

She smiled and pranced in place for a moment. “I already asked them, and they said yes.”

Without any comment, he raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“No, really. My dad said it would have to happen during my free time. I still have to do all my chores at home. But he said an education might get me a job in the city, or perhaps marry a shopkeeper who needed a wife to help him run the business. He was totally okay with it.”

He raised his head, looking down his muzzle at her. Her enthusiasm faltered under his gaze. “That is a surprising reaction from one who works the land for his family’s livelihood. And what of those chores? In a family such as yours, everyone, even foals, work. It takes everyone, without exception. When will you have any time for lessons?”

A cautious smile returned. “He said he would shift our chores around so that all mine were in the morning. He would wake me up before dawn when he gets up. If I get everything done, I could leave after lunch. Even with my chores here, there would be plenty of time to learn. My mom said she would continue to pack two dinners so I could eat here and study after. As long as I’m home before sunset.”

Clearly she wanted this badly. The potential he had seen before was becoming more evident. But would that be enough after a few weeks of waking before dawn each day? “Very well. We will start your education and observe how it goes.”

Turning suddenly serious, she confidently declared, “I will not disappoint you.”

---

As the weeks went by, it was clear she consumed knowledge as a fire consumes dry grass. Although, sometimes, the grass fought back.

Ann growled and stomped a hoof. "What is it, child?" the alchemist asked as he looked up from his book. "Is knowledge resisting your conquest today?"

She rested her legs on the small table she used for study and sat up straight. "It's this problem you gave me. The answer is obvious, but I can't get the numbers to work out."

“Then ask for help.” He sat the book down on a side table next to his chair.

She replied softly as her gaze drifted down to her table, “I don't want to look like I'm dumb or not trying.”

The alchemist paused. “The point of learning is to be exposed to new things that you don't yet understand. There is no shame in asking for help as you learn.”

She glanced up. “Really?”

He chuckled. “If you never need to ask for help, then the lessons are not advanced enough.”

With a heavy sigh, she asked, "Master? Could you please help me with this?"

He stood up and walked over. He looked at her paper for a moment, then asked, "If you take twenty percent of something, do you end up with more, or less than the original number?"

"Clearly less."

"So twenty percent of ten is..."

"Two."

He pointed to a line on her paper. "So why is twenty percent of this more than the number you started with?"

It only took a split second for her to reply, "I forgot the point!" She scribbled some quick figures, then looked up with a large grin. "That's the answer I was expecting." She paused, and her grin fell away. "How did you see that so fast? Why couldn't I?"

As he returned to his own chair, he answered, "Familiarity with a problem brings with it a kind of blindness to errors. You see what you expect to see, not what actually is. Someone not yet blinded may see what you can not.” He sat down on his chair. “I believe you have more problems to do?”

Comments

[EverfreePony]

I have to say, getting this story edited wasn’t exactly easy. The pre-readers more or less praised it, though the nitpicky editor saw much more unused potential in some of the scenes and had to figuratively crack the whip to make the author give this story his best. (And he surely did. Meaning you’ll get a story that should feel much more livelier and gripping.)

Given the focus on different characters and settings, this story stands out from the rest in the series, and could easily pass for a standalone piece with some gentle tweaks here and there. In other words, if you're not familiar with the rest if the chronicles, you should still be able to enjoy this story just fine. Chances are, you’ll most likely want to see more of Ann after finishing this story.

[Airy Words]

“Flee, you foals!”

Channeling his inner Gandalf, I see!

[bkc56]

11012776
Yup. I just couldn't resist it.

[bkc56]

11012552

I have to say, getting this story edited wasn’t exactly easy.

Who are we kidding? None of the stories have been an easy edit. Over the course of the chronicles, whole sections, even chapters, have been trashed or re-written. I'd guess that at least half the content of this story is replaced/new from what the pre-readers saw.

But, the pain seems to be worth it. The stories are better because if it, and I believe my writing has improved. Those are good things.

[tsaukpaetra]

Look at the little bookworm go!