Continued from here.
Ashan 43, Arc 711
For a moment as he stood there, on the meadow and felt the light Ashan breeze against his skin the Mortalborn could not help but wonder if he had finally begun to lose his mind after nearly four-hundred arcs on Idalos or if, maybe, his recent lack of sleep had impaired his sense of judgement. He would never let any of his normal students handle explosives until the second arc of their studies. Few were even been allowed to watch his experiments. In fact he had only recently begun to experiment with such substances himself, after having studied chemistry for decades and taught it at an academic level for almost as long.
He had never picked favourites in all that time, but treated all his students the same, somewhat condescendingly and harshly, but largely fairly. But then he recalled how Sintih and he had talked about the possibility of using phosphorescence to deceive the enemy during a battle, of regrowing limbs and combining biology and alchemy to grow alchemical ingredients rather than painstakingly gathering them. Sintih was different from the insufferable teenagers that sometimes sat in his classroom because they mistakenly thought they had what it took. He was like her, the woman that he had secretly loved for arcs.
He was willful and disobedient, and his wording often left something to be desired, but somewhere behind that somewhat lacking exterior lay genuine talent. It had taken him seasons to admit that and to forgive Beira for the fact that she had chosen another man. Sintih, he had realized, was more Beira’s son than Rudi’s. Rudi was a warrior, but Sintih was physically weak. He was a mage. He had the mind of a scientist, and he was creative, like her, and unless he found a way to free her from that strange crystal city and bring her back to Idalos, Sintih was all he would ever have, the only thing that was left of her.
Besides, he realized, if he involved Sintih in his experiments and guided him, he would likely be able to keep him from running off and practicing alchemy on his own which would almost inevitably result in his death. Beira would never forgive him if something happened to her son. He had stood on the battlefield, he had faced mortals and Immortals alike, but the wrath of that one Yludih with the face of an Eidisi was one of the few things that he feared, to some extent.
<><><>
“This is the last one, Sir,” the servant said and put another box down in front of him. The Mortalborn nodded and dismissed the man before he walked over to a table that had been placed in front of the wall. A special, fireproof box stood on it. He opened it for a moment and inspected the black powder within before he abruptly closed it again. Everything that he needed was there. All that he would have to do now was to wait for Beira’s son to arrive.
When Sintih came, he would find the Mortalborn standing there, completely straight, with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting.
The box on the table was likely not the only thing that would catch his attention. Another, smaller container had been placed a safe distance away from the door. The piece of rope that extended from it would likely give the Yludih an idea as to what he was looking at. Besides that, there were also a number of wooden boxes filled with a seemingly random collection of items as well as several strange metal contraptions, a mortar and pestle – and what looked like arrows.
Ashan 43, Arc 711
For a moment as he stood there, on the meadow and felt the light Ashan breeze against his skin the Mortalborn could not help but wonder if he had finally begun to lose his mind after nearly four-hundred arcs on Idalos or if, maybe, his recent lack of sleep had impaired his sense of judgement. He would never let any of his normal students handle explosives until the second arc of their studies. Few were even been allowed to watch his experiments. In fact he had only recently begun to experiment with such substances himself, after having studied chemistry for decades and taught it at an academic level for almost as long.
He had never picked favourites in all that time, but treated all his students the same, somewhat condescendingly and harshly, but largely fairly. But then he recalled how Sintih and he had talked about the possibility of using phosphorescence to deceive the enemy during a battle, of regrowing limbs and combining biology and alchemy to grow alchemical ingredients rather than painstakingly gathering them. Sintih was different from the insufferable teenagers that sometimes sat in his classroom because they mistakenly thought they had what it took. He was like her, the woman that he had secretly loved for arcs.
He was willful and disobedient, and his wording often left something to be desired, but somewhere behind that somewhat lacking exterior lay genuine talent. It had taken him seasons to admit that and to forgive Beira for the fact that she had chosen another man. Sintih, he had realized, was more Beira’s son than Rudi’s. Rudi was a warrior, but Sintih was physically weak. He was a mage. He had the mind of a scientist, and he was creative, like her, and unless he found a way to free her from that strange crystal city and bring her back to Idalos, Sintih was all he would ever have, the only thing that was left of her.
Besides, he realized, if he involved Sintih in his experiments and guided him, he would likely be able to keep him from running off and practicing alchemy on his own which would almost inevitably result in his death. Beira would never forgive him if something happened to her son. He had stood on the battlefield, he had faced mortals and Immortals alike, but the wrath of that one Yludih with the face of an Eidisi was one of the few things that he feared, to some extent.
<><><>
“This is the last one, Sir,” the servant said and put another box down in front of him. The Mortalborn nodded and dismissed the man before he walked over to a table that had been placed in front of the wall. A special, fireproof box stood on it. He opened it for a moment and inspected the black powder within before he abruptly closed it again. Everything that he needed was there. All that he would have to do now was to wait for Beira’s son to arrive.
When Sintih came, he would find the Mortalborn standing there, completely straight, with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting.
The box on the table was likely not the only thing that would catch his attention. Another, smaller container had been placed a safe distance away from the door. The piece of rope that extended from it would likely give the Yludih an idea as to what he was looking at. Besides that, there were also a number of wooden boxes filled with a seemingly random collection of items as well as several strange metal contraptions, a mortar and pestle – and what looked like arrows.
