The Alchemist's Practice Chapter 2

The road from Sybold was well travelled because it was one of the central towns of the Julaein continent. After reaching the next town over and switching to another wagon headed to Mayel, things became quieter. And, in the quiet, often bandits struck. Thankfully Edric was spared such circumstances. His journey was unexpectedly uneventful, and he arrived in Mayel unharmed in two weeks and a few days.

The village of Mayel was a stop in a trade route that led from Sybold to Tishani, but not a significant one. Traders and merchants stopped for the night when it was convenient but often passed through after selling some goods. The village was small, only home to little over two hundred, and the majority were farmers.

The village and main road were blessed by thick forests, mostly level terrain suitable for farming, and clean rivers throughout the countryside. The main thing Edric noticed was how clean the air smelled the closer he got to Mayel and the farther he got away from Sybold. Over time he grew accustomed to its… unique smell, but when he first moved there, the smell was overwhelming.

From his time working the family farm, Edric was no stranger to foul smells. Still, Sybold held thousands of bodies within its walls, which caused a thousand times more potency to the odours. Poor airflow and poor diets meant everything was on a magnitude worse than he could have ever imagined.

Being back in the idyllic landscape of the country was refreshing in more ways than one. The smell of fresh grass and the sounds of chirping birds seemed to clear Edric's head of all troubles. It brought him back to those warm summer days reading outside at the edge of the forest—the faint smell of a warm meal wafting to him, beckoning him back home.

Those days are gone.

The dark thought brought Edric out of his reverie. He looked up to see his village off in the distance. Across the gentle roll of the hills, he could see the various farms dotting the landscape and the village's extended territory. In the center of those farms, there sat the village proper: Edric's home, Maybel.

Edric had thought that in the years since he was last home, it would look a bit different than it had when he left, but he was wrong. As the horses pulling the wagon sauntered towards the village, Edric counted the homes and buildings and only noticed two that hadn't been there before.

On one end of the village, he noticed the church, standing tall with a blooming rose at the top of its spire representing the mother goddess Yynndal. The second-largest building, the courthouse, was on the opposite end. The courthouse wasn't used much for legal proceedings and instead was used for village meetings. In between were small businesses that thrived on the traders and travellers and homes of Mayel's villagers. And, in the center of it all, was a small village square which the main road crossed through.

The two new buildings that Edric noticed were two guard outposts on either end of the village on the main road. Mayel hadn't needed guards before. Or, at least before he had left. The sight of the outposts and the thought of why they were necessary prickled at his neck.

The wagoner waved to the guard of the outpost as he pulled in the horse's reigns. "Ho, Allard," the wagoner called.

The guard named Allard nodded as he looked inside the wagon. Edric smiled and waved when they locked eyes, but Allard didn't return the gesture.

"What's the business today? Any trouble on the roads?" The guard asked.

The wagoner shook his head. "Safe travels this day. The queen's army has begun patrolling the main roads. Only fools and the Hend risk the back roads these days."

Allard nodded again. "Only fools and the Hend care little for their lives," he said flippantly. "That explains why our taxes were raised again."

"Aye, that would be it," the wagoner said as he mimicked Allard's nodding. "I'm just passing through to Tishani and dropping this young lad off here on the way."

The wagoner gestured to Edric, drawing Allard's eyes to him once more. Edric sheepishly waved again, but after Allard didn't return the gesture again, it made him feel foolish.

"And what is your business here, and your name?"

"Edric, sir. Edric Foster." After saying his last name, Allard's eyes softened a touch. He knew why Edric was here without him saying more. "I'm Allaine and Dina's son."

Allard nodded again, possibly a tic of his. "Aye, Wynn said you'd be coming," he said. "Terrible shame what happened. Allaine was a good man. He and your mother have been sorely missed. A white rose to you, friend."

Edric gave a customary bow to accept the offering. "Yynndal's many blessings on you and your family."

Allard stepped aside and let the wagon continue into the village square. Inside the village proper, it was immediately apparent that more tragedies than his parent's passing occurred in the years since his departure.

Edric noticed a few of the buildings, generational homes, in disrepair. Though it may be tinged with nostalgia, he also thought Mayel was more lively. He remembered playing in the town square with Wynn, Garrick, and Kennard, but he saw and heard no children nearby.

Perhaps it's the time of day? Edric thought as he peeked out from behind the wagoner's shoulder.

The large square held a few stalls selling produce from the nearby farms, and some men and women Edric recognized milling about and talking. Other wagons, merchants and travellers, no doubt, were in the square as well, but once more, it seemed less than what it had been when he was younger.

Could his memory be playing tricks on him? No, all the signs were there. The rise in banditry must have taken its toll on Mayel as well, and perhaps in ways Edric would only find out about when he reunited with old friends.

Edric pointed to the one inn for Mayel. "Behind there is a stable. Would you be so kind as to stop there?"

The wagoner turned sideways in his seat to eye Edric. "You afraid of being seen?"

"Just for today," Edric replied with a gentle smile. "This was a rather long journey for me, and you've heard of my reason for returning here. I'd rather be spared reunions if but for one night."

"Aye," the wagoner said. "Meant nothing by it, young master."

The inn, Nuumad's Blessing, was as old as the village itself and as rich with history as it could be in a small settlement. It wasn't always called by the same name, but after surviving through two fires and being visited by one of the Julaein nobility, it was renamed after the God of Luck, Harvest, and New Moon: Nuumad.

The wagon was brought to the back of the inn, and after Edric paid the man, he gathered his things.

"A white rose to you," the wagoner said with a wave.

Edric gave the man a bow and returned the blessing as he had to the guardsman before he pulled his cloak up. He entered the inn from the back, farthest from the inn's bar, and closed the door behind him quietly.

The inn smelled as most taverns and inns did, stuffy bodily odours, cheap ale, and muck. Still, it was far and away better than the taverns Edric, and his colleagues frequented. The mud smelled more like fresh dirt than horse slop, and the ale smelled like a high-quality stout than watered-down piss like in Sybold.

Edric couldn't help but take in the sight of Nuumad's Blessing as well. Just as with the village itself, everything was so familiar and yet just slightly different. Most of the tables and chairs were well-worn, but clearly there were some new ones mixed in the bunch, and the bar itself looked brand new and made of the local walnut polished to a dark chocolate colour.

It made Edric a bit sad to no longer see the old bar, broken and stained and fulled of life and laughter. His father, giant hands gripping an equally giant mug of ale, a great grin on his face as he told the same tired story to his friends as he and his mother watched on. His mother with a glass of wine and her favourite book, a wistful smile on her lips and deep within her eyes as she gazed upon the man she loved.

He was too young to appreciate those moments, too young to recognize and appreciate the love they shared as a family. And now, it was gone. Now, it would never ha—

"Edric?" A voice called.

Edric looked up, and he nearly took a step back. "Wynn?"

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Thank you for reading chapter 2 of The Alchemist's Practice! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did then be sure to heart it, share it, and check out my other stories on Vocal as well as my novels at www.mcleansnovels.com.

This may seem odd down the road, but there's some real life stuff happening across most of next month. Hopefully I can keep up my deadline of a chapter per week. Wish me luck!