A core tenet of Alchemy was that if the conditions were the same, the results would be too, no matter the Alchemist.
The right disposition was necessary to become a good Magus; the quality and quantity of their mana affected which spells they could use, as well as their power. Alchemy was different. Considered to be a melding of science and magic, the unending trial and error by legions of average Alchemists and a handful of geniuses had slowly but surely developed the field.
Lacking the high adaptability and power to break out of danger, Alchemy was a bad choice for hunters, causing Alchemists to be gravely overlooked. But its history stretched back far, and it was no stretch to say that Alchemy had built the foundations of modern society.
With such a long history, it was natural there were some results that had been erased. For instance, the thrall potion, Strawberry Blaze. Named for its strawberry scent, this potion was one “result” that had been scratched out.
The potion acted on the brains of living beings, a single drop being enough to rewrite any creature’s mind. Due to its powers that defied the known rules of potions and the many nations that had been driven to conflict by Strawberry Blaze, the potion’s recipe, inventor, and the inventor’s family had all been wiped from existence.
All that was remembered was its name and its distinguishing traits. Rumors of its re-creation regularly popped up, but they were never accompanied by genuine proof. If Strawberry Blaze remained unreplicated even after hundreds of years, it was fair to assume it had been made with fairly rare ingredients, or its inventor had been a real genius.
Imperial law prohibited even attempting to re-create it, but within the empire’s chief alchemical institution, the Primus Institute, there probably wasn’t a single Alchemist who hadn’t considered giving it a try. Though not all of them necessarily intended to use said potion, for most Alchemists, the process was more important than the results. Their true desire was to pioneer greater understanding and obtain the truth.
Chief Nickolaf Smoky of the Primus Institute looked at the potion brought in by a panicking former apprentice. If this were the real thing, it would shake the world. Just like in the tales, the liquid in this metal water bottle was an opaque pink and smelled of strawberries.
“Impossible.” Peering into the bottle, he gulped. “I didn’t think any of it was left. I don’t believe it.”
“A Magus at the Zebrudia Academy of Magic was keeping it in secret.”
“A Magus, huh? I don’t know about creating it, but I suppose storing it would be feasible for one of them...”
With how unique Strawberry Blaze’s effects were, the potion was believed to have been brought about through a combination of magic and alchemy. Looking at the metal bottle, he could tell that it, too, was specially made, with an interior enchanted to preserve quality. If nothing else, this wasn’t some cheap thing you’d use for a joke.
Then, above all else, there was his panicking former apprentice, Sitri Smart. A former member of the Primus Institute and prodigy who had been involved in a number of projects, she was also a known treasure hunter who had established her own laboratory in just a few years.
A certain incident had earned her the loathsome title “Ignoble” and caused her expulsion from the Primus Institute. However, she visited the institute from time to time, staying in touch with the various laboratories.
Her hair and clothes were disheveled, suggesting she had run as fast as she could. Her face was pale, like she might pass out any moment. Nickolaf knew she was a dedicated Alchemist who could carry out morally objectionable experiments without batting an eye. He had never seen her like this. That, however, only increased the potion’s credibility.
“I need an antidote! Krai accidentally drank it undiluted!”
I see. Her affections still cause her to lose her cool.
Nickolaf kept these thoughts from showing on his face as he let out a deep breath. Even if this was her old stomping grounds, he had found it strange that she wouldn’t keep such a legendary potion to herself. But if love was involved, then that would explain it.
It was the singular, and fatal, flaw of the otherwise perfect Sitri Smart. If not for that fault, her place as the Prodigy would have been unshakable. While it may not have happened too often, one could hardly be a good Alchemist if calls from their lover repeatedly caused them to shove important experiments onto others and dash off somewhere.
The normal Sitri’s top priority would be replication, not an antidote. No, that went for any Alchemist. Even for a mythic item that had gone hundreds of years without being replicated, an analysis of a sample was bound to reveal a hint or two about how it might be replicated.
If Sitri had brought the potion without hesitation, producing an antidote would have likely been more difficult than replicating it. It would require time, facilities, and manpower, thus leaving her nowhere else to turn. She did this regardless of the fact that reproducing the potion would make her name a legend. She was willing to throw away a chance at glory.
“You’re an Alchemist, you can’t let your composure slip!” Nickolaf shouted at her. She was trying to stay calm, but she couldn’t conceal her unease. “Get a hold of yourself, Sitri!”
“But...”
In her state of panic, Sitri was forgetting something important. If she had her usual presence of mind, she definitely would have noticed it. Seeing her acting so disgracefully, Nickolaf felt compelled to chide her.
Strawberry Blaze had a unique trait found in no other potion. According to the legends, you could fully control anyone you gave a thrall potion to. This, however, raised one problem: how did the potion tell someone whom they were to obey? It didn’t just choose whoever happened to be standing nearby. Something so unreliable wouldn’t have been able to bring about so much tragedy.