Melaxander Panov, Co-Owner and Operator of Melaxander's Alchemy

Starting at sundown, Melaxander and Melandra started to prepare the cauldrons to be used for the affinity changing treatment. There was his typical large black one off to the right. And then, a much smaller bright pink cauldron that Melandra had given her brother as a joke when they were teenagers that he secretly cherished beyond any other possession.

That one specifically was for the much more concentrated version of the potion to be used on the small, annoying bond. Melaxander was glad for the beast's size as otherwise, he would have been worried about not having enough ingredients to deal with the giant that was Goran, who had been an unexpected arrival. He was so large, even two regular helpings of paste might not fully cover him.

Luckily, Terry and Aras had put their proverbial feet down and said the giant wasn't an acceptable choice for some reason or another and they wouldn't allow things to go forward. The titanic man was quickly swapped, though he waited around menacingly until his replacement showed up.

Could have done without the screaming. At least the Tier 3 was somewhat comported. Ugh, children and their politics.

Both men seemed to calm down into a huffy silence once the massive man was gone, which let the master alchemist and his moderately helpful assistant/sibling focus on the craft.

The first parts were the easiest as it was about creating a potion consistency that would eventually be spreadable with a tackiness that made it stick to skin without causing issues. Too runny and it would slough off and not work. Too dry from the start and you were baking instead of brewing. Adding water late in the process was a complete gamble so best to start with a bit too much water instead.

He knew how terrible most spreadable potions smelled so they started with some scents that would soften the impact on the nasal passages of his patients and not damage the efficacy.

And that is how he viewed them, as 'patients' – he needed to consider the 'before' as someone with an illness that he was treating in order to leverage his Innate Capability to the fullest. While his Cap probably would have been more useful for a healer, Melaxander much preferred to deal with the cauldron rather than the children. And delvers ever were the spoiled children.

After creating a base scent rue, something his sister endlessly teased him about but which made their potions far more palatable – both literally and figuratively – his sister Melandra started bringing out the rare ingredients that made up the base of the potion.

The star of the show, the Affinity Alteration Amaryllis, would come last.

First, they needed to focus on enabling a change to the essence channels. This was actually the hardest part of the entire process – other than stomaching the smells – as any miscut in harvesting the Eglite Thistle could mean at best ruining the rare ingredient and more likely, if unnoticed, causing significant damage to the most important aspect of a delver.

His sister, as always, performed her part brilliantly if annoyingly. The extremely vibrant specimens Melandra pulled from her custom storage pouch were perfect as she prepared them for his final inspection and dissection.

Three whole thistles went into the larger cauldron and one and one tenth of a thistle went into the smaller. Melaxander was sad to waste so much but the formulas called for extremely exact amounts and he wasn't about to play around to save a few silvers.

Melaxander pretended it was about the principle but really, cutting corners meant his Innate Capability might not function for weeks as he wasn't using everything he could on his 'patients'. Melandra had convinced him early on in their business journey to scrimp and it almost ruined them so they agreed never again.

The scent from the Ever-Dying Daisy was heady, smelling like a mix between a compost pile and the sweet undertone of decay. It was necessary for heavy transformations within the body, though usually when dealing with poisons or removing some unwanted issue like a genetic defect. For this specific concoction, it was all about relaxing the body's ability to fight off the change. It was laying one's defenses into a gentle repose.

Altogether, it had taken almost two bells just to gently add the juices and actual plant matter in such a way that it would break down just right. Melaxander's arms were getting tired from the intricate knife and heavy amount of pestle work.

Luckily, the Demon's Dandelion, named for the sharp black horns on its leaves and bright crimson flower, was incredibly easy to harvest though it was slightly tedious to add one seed at a time every twenty seconds over a quarter bell span.

The Affinity Alteration Amaryllis was the real belle of the ball. Melandra took it from her ring reverently, handing it to her brother as the moon started to reach farther into the sky, almost hitting its zenith. The ever-shifting colors of the flower turned into a cornucopia of scents as well the millisecond his knife pierced the stalk.

A peaty bog, mixed with a roaring fire, that transformed into the smell of copper and freshly tilled soil. A faint hint of a wildflower meadow transformed into the smell of fresh baked cookies and a hug from his mother – which almost made Melaxander miss his next cut, lost in nostalgia – to the cloying scent of decay. As he cut deeper and deeper into the Affinity Alteration Amaryllis, making a spiral out of the stalk, the change in smells started to shift more and more quickly.

But one smell, one Melaxander had trouble identifying, started to emerge more and more as he angled his cuts into the petals in very exacting spiral patterns. It was like the smell of an electrical spark but also clean.

This was where Melaxander made his magic. Following a recipe was one thing but when dealing with the final mixture, the rate of adding the coup de grâce ingredient that gave the concoction its actual purpose, that was where the real skill came into play.

It was what separated the potion makers from the alchemists.

The smell reached a crescendo before quickly dissipating.

Oh no, not like this!

But his worry was misplaced as it slowly returned, though only emerging when he vigorously stirred either cauldron. As he felt the lingering magic in the ingredients finally give up the ghost and release into the mixtures, he knew he was done, slowly bringing the heat down.

He gestured to his sister to deal with the actual people part and slumped to the ground, exhausted, taking out a bucket to wash his hands before bringing out a sandwich and greedily filling his depleted energy and stomach.

Good show. As usual. Now, to see if it actually works.

He perked up as he saw the silhouettes of his 'patients' writhing in discomfort through the cloth enclosures and sensed the magic once again in the air.

***

Aras Burba, Third Son of Olena Burba, Tier 3 Delver

Melaxander had been stewing a strange concoction that smelled of decay and life in equal measure since sundown, creating great wafting scents that rolled over the seven people there. Or six and one small and grumpy animal.

Terry had at least insisted on private stalls for when the affinity altering paste was to be applied and no one had any real objections. Delvers were usually not modest but it was still improper to be stripping naked for all to see just outside the city gates.

The guard required the brewing and treatment were done outside the city once they learned of it lest multiple homes be assaulted for hours on end by smelly fumes. Aras had to agree it was a sensible policy.

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Melaxander was clearly in his element, mumbling to himself as he added various ingredients between either consulting with or yelling at his sister. Whether it was a chant that was necessary or just something the odd, toady alchemist did was hard to ascertain.

But the three-bell wait was over as the full moon continued its climb further into the sky. They were each apportioned out some of the affinity altering paste along with some herbs to chew on to increase its effectiveness.

Goran's replacement – Danut Karklina – still had to be given the biggest bucket but not the two they needed for Danut's awfully-chosen predecessor. The large man gave Terry an odd look as he grabbed his metal pail. Vesna was quiet and almost resigned, the girl being far more introverted than just a few weeks prior. Milda also grabbed her bucket, giving Terry a firm nod and heading into her curtained stall.

The sickly green and still faintly frothing liquid smelled slightly different with each waft of air that pushed vapors into his face. Aras could pick up the underlying scent of the lavender and garlic the siblings added early in the process but mostly he smelled the strange Affinity Alteration Amaryllis.

The second Melaxander started to harvest it with the help of his sister, the scents in the area kept changing wildly, one second that of a meadow, the next of pure blood, sunshine creeping through the clouds after rain, and the ocean. However, as they continued, it started to smell more and more of a deep scent that reminded Aras of nothing. Or more correctly, not the absence of smell but the unknowable scent of destruction, of the end. Not even decay could compare in the slightest to the scent.

Well, here goes nothing.

Aras began to smear the thick paste on his body, starting at his legs. They made him shave everything below his neck to make the paste more effective. His wife had laughed merrily while helping him.

The sickly goop felt like a warm hug that slowly turned icy, starting to cool like when the sun crept behind the clouds on an early spring afternoon, turning to a colder, late-fall day and finally an icy winter morning, cold and sharp. The feeling seemed to permeate to Aras' very cores.

Makes sense. Supposed to modify them. Still feels bad.

He continued to smear more and more across himself, glad that reaching Tier 1 so long ago increased his flexibility enough to reach his mid back, though Melaxander said they didn't need 100% skin coverage.

The feeling of a deep chill turning to numbness started to spread throughout his body and the metaphysical feeling of his essence channels. As a Tier 3, he was shocked that the same concoction was being used for the Tier 1 and Tier 2 women in the cloth enclosures to either side given the potent effect it was having on him.

Not great. Wouldn't recommend.

Aras started to feel his body interact differently with the air itself, the low null essence concentration this far from the center of the zone no longer feeling like a slight nuisance but instead a nice fresh breeze.

And then it happened.

Really not great.

Aras had always been at least wary of his Innate Capability. One that increased his personal power the more excited he got sounded great when he first read it. Except it was viewed as detrimental for a reason: the more his power increased, whether through his Cap or just in general, the less in control of his emotions he was.

As a low Tier 1 teen, that hadn't seemed like such a bad thing. Being wild and rambunctious as part of the training program simply meant he was able to overpower his opponents. The same for when he was in a rift, always letting everything impact him emotionally as much as possible. When a teammate was in danger, he let the fear and anger surge, literally ripping monsters apart with his bare hands.

And then, the incident.

Even thinking about it at all sent a wave of sadness, regret, fear, and loneliness through him.

A wave he had to crush mercilessly, lest it put others in danger.

His teammate Erol missed a throw with his dagger and grazed their other frontliner, Larisa, dosing her with poison and distracting her at a key moment. It cost her her life, at least indirectly, the teeth of the giant weretree clamping on to her shoulder and ripping her arm clean off before it swung a stump into her gut.

Aras went berserk, killing everything in the field as he watched his best friend from childhood slowly bleed out, too incensed to even think about giving her the potion he had that would save her life.

Five minutes later, four more weretrees drawn by the noise also lay in pieces, torn asunder. But so did Erol and Larisa. Larisa had further wounds that looked like they were inflicted by a serrated short sword – his weapon of choice – and then bare human hands rather than the monsters of the rift. Erol was decapitated, clearly by a sword swing.

From that day forward, he vowed to never allow his Innate Capability out of its cage. Aras kept himself in check, learned to fight with a bow – only resorting to his short swords when necessary – to maintain a better sense of calm, and married an ebullient woman to do the feeling for him.

But the null now invading his body was starting to change that. It was eating away at the cage in a way he couldn't have anticipated. It was like he could take the emergent feelings he didn't want and push them into the disgusting essence, essentially nullifying them.

I guess that's why they call it that. Heh.

His chuckle, one of the first times he'd allowed himself to feel mirth on purpose in over a decade, felt foreign but delightful.

Maybe this isn't only my penitence but also my salvation.

He had a lot to make up for but things were looking up. And he could finally give his wife the grief she'd been giving him for almost a decade. And I'll give it back tenfold.

***

Steve Carver, Pugilist, Unchallenged and Unrepentant Leader of The Order of the Ever-Consuming Glider, Goodest Boy

Gross, no put on me. Taste bad.

"Steve, stop trying to eat it. I know you think it tastes bad. Learn the lesson, take the loss," Terry said exasperatedly.

Best way to get rid of gross is in my tummy. Silly bond.

Steve eventually acquiesced to not eating the gross paste in exchange for Terry pulling out food every twenty seconds or so to distract him.

Ugh, cold but feels right. Still, maybe this lick will taste better?

***

Huh, smells like ozone. I guess ozone kills off a lot of things – organic right? – so makes sense null and ozone are related.

I was actually rather proud of Steve for sitting relatively still and only taking about ten licks of the paste before deciding it was better to not eat. He was clearly not pleased by being covered in a slowly hardening smelly substance but I sent calming feelings through our link. He was mostly mollified with snacks and pets.

Luckily, Melaxander assured me that getting a bit of the paste on my hands as I applied it to Steve was fine though I didn't think to ask about the little bugger eating it. Sending the alchemist a message rather than yelling out from my own cloth enclosure – which I thought was slightly funny to give Steve his privacy – Melaxander assured me it was non-toxic at that dosage level, especially for any Tier 1 creature, but that he'd probably have 'severe stomach issues' for the next few days.

Great. I wonder how the bathysphere is to clean out… should have gotten self-cleaning enchantments on it… Maybe it's not too late?

I felt Steve's wonder and curiosity at the changes happening to his body and cores. He was pulsing feelings of being uncomfortable but based on the noises the others were making, slight as most were, I guessed he was taking it better than anyone else.

My earlier rage at the Council selecting Goran had mostly subsided. It felt like something had truly snapped while yelling at the man – who only responded with a knowing smirk – while sending off messages to the Council. All I received back was confirmation from Lurka about fifteen minutes later that a replacement would arrive shortly.

I had to do some major breathing exercises and even asked Tiesa to deliver some tea for me – she was smart and brought enough tea and the exact right number of cups for everyone but Goran as we awaited his replacement.

Said fury was now just a small but extremely hot ball of anger, like the core of a star. It burned brightly on whoever thought selecting Goran was a good idea: they would regret it.

I did get a small amount of satisfaction that the Council caved so easily but that also made it seem like it was merely a test, one I very much did not appreciate. I literally had two people I wouldn't want getting the treatment that were reasonably possible: Goran and Dahlia and they tried to choose one.

I have been using a bad assumption that literally anyone is operating under good faith in the slightest. Why? They really have been screwing me over every chance they get.

I need to stop negotiating like we are building something together. Adversarial mode and have Nikolaj look over all agreements for loopholes. Should have done that with the vendors Uros set up… Hopefully I can even trust Nikolaj in that.

[Task Added: Figure out who on the Council tried to pull some shit]

[Task Added: Get far deeper on AAI guarantees and contract agreements with Nikolaj]

[Task Added: Self-reflect on why I've been so trusting]

Steve stirred restlessly at my roiling thoughts through our bond so I had to put my anger and worry off for later.

It took about 40 minutes for the change to complete and it was now past midnight. Luckily 'Mama Tiesa' had thought ahead about the need for further cleaning, bringing a few buckets with clean water creation and soap enchantments. And she 'just happened to only be able to get four', giving one to me, Vesna, Aras, and Milda.

She really is good at the quick little jab. No wonder she fights with her fists.

After all of us were clean, I took pity on Danut – he hadn't done anything to me yet and was presumably an unwitting pawn in dickhead machinations – and let him use my bucket. His grumpy stare softened slightly and I hoped we could reach an accord.

With a big few days of delving near Struva ahead of us, we headed back to the inn to try to get what sleep we could.

Looking to Steve, I muttered, "Hopefully we can get that circlet going. Right now, you are literally a paste eater…" It wasn't my best insult but it still had me smiling as I drifted off for my few hours rest.

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