Fifteenth day of the fourth month, year 1021 (present day).
Princess Calandra Alpin strode through the courtyard in her castle at Avalonesse, the capital of her kingdom, Vallin. Everywhere around her was dewy and green. It was mid-spring, and the birds were overjoyed because winter had already begun its slumber. Vallin tended to be damp, cold, and windy in the winter, although not as drastic as the winters of their northern neighbors. Besides the chilly winter months, the weather was mostly temperate. They had four distinctive seasons, but it never got too hot nor too cold. Vallin was a green kingdom, from the willowy green riverside in the north to the moor and swamp in the south.
She celebrated twenty years since her birth two weeks earlier at the beginning of the fourth month. Her look was regal and solemn and never was it said that she smiled, although she never frowned either. Even though she had a somewhat serious demeanor, this did not translate to apathy. In fact, she had many interests and concerns, and most of these involved the plight of her kingdom.
As for her beauty, it was well known, and not just in Vallin. Her face was small and oval-shaped with a button nose, large inquisitive eyes, and blossom-shaped lips. She had pale green eyes, even paler porcelain skin, and golden brown hair with bangs that framed her face. It did not take long for her father, the king, and her stepmother, the queen, to find her a prince to wed. However, she did not take kindly to this proposition and the reason why was what led her to walk across the courtyard gardens this mid-spring morning so she could take the door that led to the highest tower of the castle.
The crisp, clean air from the gardens turned into a different smell, that of burning ash and acrid smoke, the higher she climbed up the spiraling stone stairs. She loved these smells. Surely, most people would think the opposite, but for Calandra, they represented discovery and freedom.
She opened the doors to the laboratory at the top of the tower. It was circular and spacious with arched windows that let in muted light. To the back there was a large and impressive furnace, and along the walls, raw materials were categorized neatly into glass paned cabinets or in labeled bottles stacked on multitiered shelves, and in the middle sat two parallel rows of tables full of the tools the alchemists could readily use such as bulbous glass beakers, mortars and pestles to grind the raw materials, copper alembics for distillation, and charts posted with all the alchemical symbols for reference.
Alchemists worked at different stations or gave lessons to their apprentices.
The sulfurous smell coming from the furnace meant a new apprentice was trying to transmute lead into gold. Amateur, they'd learn soon enough. At one workstation, an alchemist dipped a piece of parchment into a vat of what he called "potash alum." Then, he set the parchment on fire and showed his assistants the result after putting it out. There were no burns, and the parchment remained undamaged. "We can use this on the codices in the library to preserve our knowledge, saving them from fires," the alchemist told his assistants.
These were all fascinating projects, but what took her primary attention was Court Alchemist Nicoli Flamelli with his three researchers in the back, where the materials were kept, discussing two specimens. One was a quite peculiar potted plant because half of it had turned black and its leaves drooped downward, yet the other half remained a healthy green color and still flourished as it craned its leaves upward toward the sunlight that came in through the blue paned windows.
The other was a rat completely covered in black down to its whiskers. It was unresponsive and showed no signs of life.
"Black rot" was a curse first identified in the kingdom of Vallin almost two decades ago. Sightings were scarce at that time as people had not caught on to its dangers and horrors yet, but recently, cases were becoming more widespread than before. The black rot curse could happen anywhere to anything or anyone and could not be predicted. Black rot did not spread through touch and could not be contracted as an illness. No one knew where it came from or how to get rid of it. It simply occurred in some plants, animals, and, as ghastly as it sounds, humans. It would start as a simple black patch, but a black so dark it seemed to absorb all light. The black rot grew until it encompassed every part of its unfortunate victim, and everything down to eyes, hair, nails, leaf, root, snout, and tooth turned a black color devoid of light.
The name "black rot" did not come from the actual death of the subject but because there was no other way for people to describe the phenomenon. Black rot was not death because the subject would not decay and wither away, as was the natural cycle of life. They could not be considered alive either, as all subjects proved unresponsive to external or internal stimuli. No one knew where the curse came from or who or what inflicted it upon the kingdom of Vallin, but cases were still rare, and the people were largely indifferent as they went about their daily lives unconcerned with its threat. For now, it remained merely a curiosity for the alchemists.
"As you can plainly see here. The plant is still healthy and growing on the non-cursed side because the black rot has not completely overtaken it. Yet in the rat, the black rot has finished spreading throughout the organism." Court Alchemist Flamelli showed the specimens to his researchers, some of them newly appointed thanks to the former queen's decree that every two years a grant be given to her court of alchemical research, even after her death, ad infinitum.
"The black rot spreads until it fully overtakes the specimen. And although the victims do not die, they cannot grow or act on their own." The alchemist paused for a moment and then said, "Think of it like a blink in time. Those cursed are frozen as if stuck in stasis."
"How long does it take?" a newly appointed researcher asked, sounding a bit nervous.
"It depends," said another researcher in a haughty voice because he had been there since the last grant and was hoping to make it to apprentice. "For some, like this rat, only a few days. But we have been observing the change in this plant for weeks and the black rot progress has been much slower."
"If you can come closer." Court Alchemist Flamelli drew the researchers in. "If you please." He handed a small scalpel to the researcher with more experience.
The researcher who hoped to make it to apprentice this year seemed very pleased with himself and proceeded to cut open the rat's stomach. Expecting to see red, they were met with black. Everything was black, the organs, and blood, and it hadn't coagulated, meaning the rat was not dead yet, but at the same time, the blood was not flowing, nor was the heart beating.
"Is the rat still alive?" the nervous researcher from before asked. He then looked at the contents of the rat's insides on the table and added, "Or was alive?"
"That we don't know," Court Alchemist Flamelli answered, cleaning his hands even though he did not touch anything. "All we can say is that those afflicted with the curse are not dead, yet not alive. They exist as a sort of absence."
"But that's a contradiction," another newly appointed researcher claimed.
"Yes," Court Alchemist Flamelli responded again. "That it is, but that is the very nature of the black rot, and one we must work hard to understand and eventually find a cure for."
"We need prima materia and the Philosopher's Stone. Without these, I fear our work will never be done." Court Alchemist Flamelli said this to the others, but loud enough for the princess to hear, and perhaps for her to hear.
"But surely they are myth!" the princess exclaimed, now joining in on the conversation she had been spying on before.
He turned his attention to her. "No, they exist as much as life itself. For they are the very essence and soul of life."
"I don't understand." The princess walked with the alchemist to a quiet corner of the laboratory. The alchemist's assistants dispersed and went about their work.
"The prima materia is pure life in its essence. It comes from the void from which all of creation was made. It was born from nothing and to nothing it will return," the alchemist who had made potash alum earlier chimed in. He had been listening to their conversation. No corner of the laboratory was that quiet.
Court Alchemist Flamelli smiled. It was a famous lesson from the greatest work of alchemy ever written on the prima materia. Every alchemist had studied this work, searched for meaning within its convoluted text, and yearned for divine revelation to give an answer to it all. "And the Philosopher's Stone was a gift from the all-creator; a conduit for mortals to channel the divine."
"How can such things ever be found?" Calandra asked. These were myths at best, right?
"They have been found and even used before."
Princess Calandra stared at him in disbelief. She could not believe such things existed, but she wanted to. She had to believe in them for the survival of her kingdom.
Court Alchemist Flamelli took the princess aside to speak in hushed voices so as not to be overheard this time. "Princess, I have heard distressing news, and I am not absolute of its validity or not, but very recently, there have been rumors of more cases of black rot spreading throughout the towns and villages. You no doubt remember Lucy."
Calandra shuddered. Of course, she remembered Lucy. How could she forget?
Her nanny went missing when she was eight years old. She asked around for her, but was told Lucy had gone back home to live with her family. Calandra knew Lucy was unwed and her parents were long since deceased, so even as a young child, she questioned this. Shortly after her eighteenth birthday, after she had begun her alchemy studies in earnest, Court Alchemist Flamelli took her to the dungeons. She had to promise him to keep what she saw there a secret.
In a dark area of the dungeons, concealed in a nameless cell, lying motionless in a glass coffin, was the body of a woman covered in black rot. It was like looking into an abyss, dark and empty, but it took the shape of a young woman, just as Calandra had remembered her. All this time, she had been there, frozen in that glass coffin. For ten years. The thought of how lonely that must be caused a tight feeling in her chest, and sometimes, when she would lie awake at night and couldn't sleep, it was because she thought of the woman she once knew to be vibrant and kind, hidden forever in that cold coffin, forgotten to the world.
"The same could be happening in villages and towns all over Vallin," Court Alchemist Flamelli told her. "Yet we are kept in the dark here at the castle."
True. Calandra had not heard of widespread cases of black rot. News that huge must surely have reached the castle, right? As she thought this, though, doubt crept into her heart.
Court Alchemist Flamelli continued his plea to the princess with insistence. "We need to find the Philosopher's Stone and prima materia to make a panacea to combat the growing spread of the curse, but we can't do it alone. You must find the one they call "The Hermit" because without him, we are lost. I fear he knows more about the Philosopher's Stone and prima materia than anyone else here, and he is the only hope we have left."
"The Hermit? I've never heard of him before."
The alchemist explained to her, "Magnus was his name when he was here at the castle."
"The former Court Alchemist Magnus?" Princess Calandra knew this name well. He was there the night her mother died, and he was also the one banished afterward. "He wasn't the one responsible for my mother's death?" she questioned the alchemist with uncertainty. She didn't want to have anything to do with her mother's potential killer.
Her father blamed Magnus, banishment being the most lenient punishment. No one had caught her mother's killer or knew if she had been killed in the first place. She might have died during childbirth. No one knew. The whole thing was a mystery, with its exact details kept secret from her. Her father never spoke of it. Bringing her mother's death up would always turn his mood sour, and Calandra learned as she grew older and more mature that some subjects should not always be poked and prodded at by others.
"I was just an apprentice at that time, but there was no way he was responsible for her death. Magnus loved your mother, as we all did." Court Alchemist Flamelli spoke honestly, and because he was also an older, wiser man whom she respected, this gave Calandra pause.
"I wish I could have known my mother." It's true, Calandra did not know anything about her mother except that she looked just like her, and they both shared a passion for alchemy.
"Bless her kind soul. Your mother was the biggest patron to alchemy the kingdom nay Myrrh has ever seen. If she were still here, we would already have a panacea for this cursed rot."
"Yes," Princess Calandra responded sadly. Her mother was her greatest inspiration and what turned her to alchemy. "As do we all wish she were still here. But she is gone, and I must take her place. I will find this hermit for you. Where is he?"
"It's said that he lives in the swamp to the southeast. It is difficult to navigate a passage through, and the journey will be dangerous. You should entrust a few knights to this task."
"No, I will go alone, and I mustn't let anyone know I am leaving."
"But Princess!"
"Pardon me, my lady. The queen requests your presence." A messenger arrived and interrupted their conversation.
Princess Calandra made a subtle gesture for the alchemist to stop talking. Of course, the queen knew to find her here, and just in the middle of an important conversation. The queen had many spies in the castle, so Calandra could never be careful enough with who she let privy to her secrets.
"Lead the way," she answered with reluctance. She turned to Court Alchemist Flamelli and whispered, "I will find you tonight and we will talk more about this."
The alchemist made a nod of acceptance and went back to his work.
The queen's chambers were on the other side of the castle. Princess Calandra stood up straight to address her mother, wearing an elegant gown of jeweled red that was cut high in the front, coming up well above her knees. She also wore ruby earrings and a ruby necklace, a small part of her late mother's dowry. Calandra liked wearing jeweled tones, especially red, but her stepmother set this dress out for her this morning just in case the prince showed up today.
Her kingdom had recently expanded trade with more nations, other than just with their traditional trade partner, the kingdom of Nachtnebel in the north. Old trade routes with Silla had just opened, primarily because of Calandra's upcoming wedding to its prince. This was sure to bring an influx of wealth between Vallin and Silla, although the roaming gangs of pirates on the Sea of Ys stymied trade along the faster sea routes and forced the usage of the ancient Great West Road, a slower and more tedious course as it passed through Kosala.
"Yes, my queen. You wanted to see me." Calandra curtsied, but not because she wanted to. Rather, this was a game she played frequently with the queen.
As she had expected, her stepmother did not appreciate the "my queen" part. The queen was an imposing woman. She was broad-shouldered and taller than most men in Vallin and had striking pale blonde hair and pale skin, common for her people from the northern kingdom of Nachtnebel in the Black Mountains. Today, Queen Inga Alpin wore a white powdered face with red lips to go with her dark red and revealing dress. The queen had some rather interesting choices of wardrobe. Most of her dresses had dark colors, sharp lines, and lower cuts or higher slits, showing off a lot of the chest and leg, all the rage in Drachenblut, the capital of Nachtnebel, but not so much in Vallin where femininity, frills, and grace inspired its fashions. The queen was having her portrait painted and paid no heed to the artist as she gesticulated wildly as she spoke.
"Oh, 'my queen?' What is this? Calandra, you know that you should call me 'mother.'"
Calandra said nothing but bowed her head in feigned acquiescence.
"What have you been doing in the northern tower? I told you that is no place for a princess. I don't know why your father entertains your fantasies so much with this sorcery."
"It's not sorcery. It's alchemy, my queen," Calandra answered.
The queen glared at her, picked up a black fan with red lace fringe from the nightstand, and started fanning herself with her large hands. The portrait painter just stopped his work.
"It's unbecoming. No prince would ever want a princess who got her hands dirty." The queen inspected her, running her close-set blue eyes up and down Calandra's body, not liking what she saw. "Tsk-tsk. Have you lost weight? Your clothes seem to just hang on you these days."
Calandra stood still and did not talk back, even though she desperately wanted to.
"Remember, daughter, it is better to have a presence worthy of a man of respect, such as kings and emperors." She then chuckled to herself. "Also, men like something to hold on to at night."
Princess Calandra breathed in deeply to hold her tongue. The queen then turned to her maidservant. "Make sure to give the princess extra creams and cakes for her tea."
"Yes, Your Grace," came a swift reply.
Princess Calandra wore an undetectable look on her face, trying her best to hide her true thoughts. Castle life will get you good at that. How dare her stepmother talk about her like she was a sow at a market! Yes, she had lost a little weight, but that was because she was so busy poring over alchemical texts day and night. Was the queen unaware of the gravest threat to the kingdom? If you asked her stepmother, it would have been how skinny the princess was!
"If I may be excused."
The queen sighed in exasperation. It showed on her face that dealing with her stepdaughter was tiresome for her and perhaps the reason she was so insistent on marrying her off. "Yes, you may." She then added, "Make sure you finish your meals," as Princess Calandra left the chamber.
The princess hurried to see her father. She wanted to know how things were going with the campaign against the Dark Mother Cult. The Dark Mother Cult had grown in the past two or three years. Though the cult had been around for hundreds of years, it never really took off until recently and this coincided with the prevalence of the black rot curse.
The Dark Mother Cult worshipped the goddess Nyx, who was the goddess of death. Usually, these cults and their fanatics were easy to quell, but this one was different. Why it had grown so quickly was unknown, but the princess had a hypothesis and attributed it to the spread of the black rot.
Princess Calandra did not announce herself in her father's council chambers. She was used to walking in and getting involved in discussions. Of course, she was chastised about this every time it happened, but that did not stop her. She waltzed in through the heavy wooden double doors and saw her father, King Rolan Alpin, at a table with a map surrounded by his advisors.
"Many sightings around the ruins north of the village of Pict recently, Your Majesty," an advisor with a bald head said to the king.
The king was tall and dark. He was quite handsome in his youth, but the years and troubles weighed heavily upon him. He looked thinner, especially in the face, and his once glossy beard had become sparse and wired with gray streaks. Calandra had a wave of worry pass through her body, culminating in a lump in her throat, as she studied him. Her father had not been taking his meals frequently and had been spending a lot of time in his council chambers, sometimes alone. He had not paid visits to his family either, as they had not seen him for days. Only Calandra had paid him personal visits by seeking him here.
"Spies have spotted activity in the ruins. Cultists gather every fortnight," the captain of the knights noted. "Should we send soldiers?"
"Not yet," the king answered. "So far, they have done nothing wrong."
"But they worship Nyx. It is forbidden," another advisor chimed in.
The king, seemingly unconcerned about the law, answered, "What would happen if I policed every household in the kingdom for which god or goddess they worshipped? The people would call me a tyrant. We will watch for now and see what happens."
Calandra sighed. Her father sounded so defeated. He would usually be at the front and center of quelling these fanatical cults that did nothing but damage to the kingdom. "The black rot and the Dark Mother Cult are connected!" she exclaimed. "If you could just…"
"Lana," he said, cutting her off, his voice tired. "Lana" was the name that only her father and youngest half-brother were permitted to use for her. He turned to her, now addressing her presence. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be preparing for your departure? I heard the prince will be here soon. He's traveled a long way for you."
Usually, by ship, the journey from Silla would take less than two weeks by sea, but because of the dangers of pirates on the Sea of Ys, the prince and his retinue had to take the Great West Road, a journey of over four weeks. That would be more than two months round-trip for him altogether, which is a long time to travel for a marriage.
"Father," Calandra protested. "How could I leave my kingdom now when it needs me the most? How could I leave you?"
Her father gently placed his right hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I am the king. It is my duty to look after my kingdom and my family. You do not see me as such a weak man, I would hope not."
"Of course I do not," Calandra answered, but his reassurance did not quell her apprehension.
"Do not trouble yourself with rot and fanatics. This is for me to deal with. Besides, you have a bright future to look forward to. I heard the prince is as brave as he is handsome."
Calandra bowed her head. She could not care less about this prince, whoever he was. "I look forward to meeting him," she lied.
The king seemed pleased with her answer, even though she knew he knew it was a lie. "All will be in good hands, my dear." And with that, she was shown to the hall.
She walked down the corridor slowly, considering what was at stake if she left Vallin for her upcoming marriage. Why did her father not concern himself with the black rot curse? She knew he hated alchemy and only tolerated it because of her mother's patronage when she was alive. If alchemy was to be the solution to the curse, then she was the only one who could do it.
As she walked back to her chamber for a nap, she made a stop to meet her half-brothers studying with their tutor and interrupted their lessons. Her youngest half-brother, Jonas, her favorite, was only seven years old and had the pale hair of his mother. The oldest half-brother, and next in line for the throne, Cador, was thirteen and had the deep brown hair and brown eyes of his father.
"Lana," Jonas called out and ran to her.
"My little lark." Calandra reached out to hug him. "I hope you aren't giving your teacher too much trouble."
"Only a bit," Jonas answered a little too truthfully, as young children often do.
"Pardon my intrusion," she said to their tutor, who did not look so pleased with her, but being that she was the princess, he dared not insult her.
"You will come see me after my lessons, won't you?"
"I wouldn't miss it for all the jewels in the kingdom. We can go to the lily pond and see the ducks. There are some new ducklings, bright yellow ones."
Jonas got excited at this prospect, but Cador cut in. "Taking a prince to see ducks? Surely his time could be best spent elsewhere."
Calandra assessed Cador's demeanor. He was serious in nature, just as she. That is why they never seemed to get along. Maybe it was also resentment. She resented him for being born a boy and automatically next in line for the throne. And he resented her for, well, she wasn't sure yet.
"Not at all, brother," she retorted. "Exploration of the natural world can teach him much that books cannot." She glanced over at the book he was reading, a dry text on levies of imported goods. "However, I do agree that books are important. I find myself fascinated by alchemical texts."
Cador scoffed, "Alchemy."
"Alchemy, yes," Calandra continued. "If I do not put the knowledge gained from books to use by experimenting or finding the source in the natural world, how much could I hope to learn?"
"Touche," he answered dryly, not concerned with debating or conversing with her further.
"I will leave you to your studies, then." She took a bow and left.
Her heart hurt as she entered her bedchamber and started removing her dress. She lay down on her bed in her underclothes and stared at the canopied ceiling above her bed. She would have to leave all of them behind. Pangs of guilt lodged in her throat. Well, it did not bother her to leave them all behind, just her father and her little brother, Jonas. But she was not going to leave them for marriage. She was going to find The Hermit and, with his help, use the Philosopher's Stone to make a panacea. She had to leave before the prince arrived, and he was due any day now. Her mind trailed off as she began plotting her escape.