The Alchemist Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I took the long organic molecule chains in crude oil and separated them out after cracking them. In one bottle I put the lightest, shortest molecules, and in the others I put molecules of varying weights and sizes.

Some of this could be used as lamp oil, as a substance called kerosene. It burned clean and readily, and produced no soot. I took a lantern down from the shelf and filled it with kerosene, and then I lit the wick.

Perfect, I thought. I showed it to Rachel.

She had her arms crossed. “I wouldn’t have believed this if I hadn’t seen it myself,” she said. “But you’re right. You can produce lamp oil from tar.”

“Also,” I said, taking the plastic precursor products, “I cam make this.” I turned the medium weight liquid into a solid.

Plastic.

I then formed an approximation of a water bottle. I handed it to Rachel.

“This has some of the properties of glass,” I said, “But it’s much lighter and more malleable.” I paused. “Oh, and you’ll need much lower temperatures to work with it compared to glass.”

“I am an accomplished glassmaker,” said Rachel, “But this is the first time I’ve seen something like this.” She frowned. “But this isn’t what you’ve brought me here for, is it?”

I shook my head. “Come into the back room with me,” I said.

Rachel followed me into the room where I had been working on the printing press.

I showed her how my prototype worked. I got a piece of the crude paper, spelled out a few sentences with the type, inked them, and then pressed the sheet.

What came out was rough by the best measures, but it was a good demonstration of what this machine could do.

Rachel was silent.

“Do you get it?” I said.

“This could change the world,” said Rachel. “How about this. Instead of you paying me upfront, I’ll collect royalties from the sale of this technology and its derivatives.”

“Great!” I said. “I’m glad someone gets what this is useful for.” I had enough money to pay her upfront—more than enough—but I figured if her payment were embedded in my project’s fortunes, she would work harder to realize this technology.

Rachel walked around the press several times. “I have many suggestions,” she said. “First …”

We spent the rest of the day refining the printing press and the process by which we inked and printed pages. When we were done, we had a solid product. A single sheet of printed material, reciting a poem. We created twenty copies by the end of the day.

“We’re going to need to build a workshop,” said Rachel.

I thought for a moment. “Will the back of this shop do?”

“I don’t think so,” said Rachel. “I have a spot in mind, though. As well as people who are trustworthy enough to help us.”

“Can I leave that to you?” I said.

“Of course,” said Rachel. “Now let’s get on with this … Plastic of yours.”

“Do you have any plaster?” I said.

“I can procure some,” said Rachel.

“Good,” I said. “As well as that, get me something to make a mold of.”

“Plastic is molded?” said Rachel. “Not worked like glass?”

“Plastic’s melting temperature is low enough that molding is best,” I said.

Rachel took out parchment and a pen. “Plaster of Paris,” she said, writing something down. She then signed it and sealed it. “I’m going to bring this materials order to the guild. While I’m at it, do you want to add your item shop’s stock?”

I sat down with a piece of parchment and wrote down about a dozen different items I thought I would need to run the shop, and then I handed it to Rachel.

“I’ll be back,” she said. She left and the door swung shut behind her.

Just as she left, the door knocker sounded. I opened it, and found Claude on the doorstep.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m here to put in a request. I would have gone to the blacksmith but they’re all busy with the requests for the ongoing crusades. Nobody seems to care about our incursion.” She paused. “Anyways, I know how powerful your alchemy powers are. Can you create an order of weapons, armor, and equipment for us?”

“Sure,” I said. “What do you need?”

Claude handed me an order form, the same kind that Rachel had just left with.

On it were a number of requests, ranging from shields to spears to shovels.

I placed the order on a table. “You can count on me,” I said.

Claude sat down in a chair facing the shelves. “I think we need to tell you what we’re up to. After all, we’re spending money that you earned for us.”

I sat down across from Claude in another chair. “I personally don’t think you’re obligated to me,” I said. “In terms of hours and effort, I’ve put in a fraction of what you’ve put into your goals.”

“But you’ve made the biggest contribution,” said Claude. “Without you, this year’s incursion wouldn’t be happening.”

I shrugged. “I suppose. I’m not going to ask you guys for anything other than the occasional favor.”

“You’re pretty relaxed about this,” said Claude. “The people I know would milk this power like there’s no tomorrow.”

“I dunno,” I said. “All I want to do is make this world as cool as the one I came from.’

Claude looked out the window. “Well, I know we do need some fresh blood out there.” She crossed her arms. “The Guardians are an organization as ancient as The Realm,” she said. “In the past, our members were in the hundreds. But after the Spell Flare, less people were able to use powerful magic. Since then I’ve been in charge—for about four hundred years—and all that time I’ve been fighting the demon lord.”

Claude unfolded her arms. “But now the demon lord is growing in power,” she said. “And you arrived just in time to help us grow in power as well. I hate to ask more of you,” she paused, “But are there weapons from your world that will help us defeat the coming storm?”

“Guns,” I said. “And cannons.”

“Tell me more,” said Claude.

“A gun is a tube that uses an explosive compound to hurl small pieces of metal at high speeds and high accuracy,” I said. “And a cannon is just a bigger version of a gun that fires huge balls of iron.”

“Can you teach us how to make such weapons?” said Claude.

“I think so,” I said, “But I would need some more master craftsmen to help me. I’ve learned that my ideas of my world’s technology are not enough to actually get them working in reality.”

“That reminds me,” said Claude. “How has your work been going with the printing press?”

“Do you want to see?” I asked, getting up.

Claude got up as well. I led her to the back room where the printing press was located.

Claude rubbed her chin when she was it. Walking around it a couple of times, she ran her hand along the wooden rails.

“And you use this to produce … ?” she said.

“Lots of books,” I said. “And fliers and anything with written words on it.” I picked up one of the prototype pages Rachel and I had made.

The door to the main show room opened and Rachel stepped in. She entered the back room carrying a large bag of plaster, which she dropped on the ground in a puff of white dust.

“Claude-win,” said Rachel. She bowed. “It is an honor to see you.”

“Win?” I said.

Claude shook her head slightly. I understood and backed away from the conversation.

Rachel stood back up from her bow. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’m the leader of the Guardians,” said Claude. “It’s only natural that I would visit one of my members for a chat.” She looked at the printing press. “Are you the one who worked on this?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes. I’ve done everything to my utmost capacity.”

“I commend you,” said Claude. “Your help is greatly appreciated. Markus here needs all the help he can get to create the things he has in his mind.”

Rachel bowed again. “You flatter me,” she said.

Claude turned to me. “Well, it’s best that I get going. I have high hopes for you and I’ll be visiting again soon.” She walked past Rachel and left the room.

Rachel frowned. “Do you realize who Claude-win is?” she said.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “All I know is that she is an angel.”

Rachel sighed, and then rubbed her temples. “In this case, the less you know, the better.” She turned to the bag of plaster. “So, what are we going to do with this?”

I knelt down. “Can we make a mold with this?”

“I can,” said Rachel.

I noticed the jade brooch on Rachel’s clothing. “Can we make a mold of that?” I said, pointing to it.

Rachel took it off. “Of course,” she said. She took a bowl, mixed up some plaster with water, and formed a mold around the brooch. I guided her to make the mold suited for plastic injection. When we were done I melted a bit of plastic and injected it into the mold with my alchemy power. I also cooled it—one of my abilities involved turning solids into liquids and vice versa.

Then I cracked open the mold. An almost unrecognizable copy of the brooch model fell out.

Rachel picked it up. “As a proof of concept …” she said. “But it needs a lot more work.” She looked at it under the light. “But, this is light! Much lighter than ivory!”

I grinned. “We’re getting somewhere, right?”

Rachel nodded. “I’ll get some opinions from people who know molding better than I do.”

“And while you’re doing that,” I said, “I’ll go extract some more oil. Do you have a cart and horse that I can borrow? And some watertight barrels?”

“I’ll procure those before I go,” said Rachel.

Half an hour later I was driving a horse-drawn cart through the streets towards the oil fields. After exiting the gate, I followed the country road towards the farm house where I had extracted my first gallon of crude oil.

The farm wife was out tending the garden when I arrived. She looked up and frowned.

“What’ya want?” she said.

“I’m back for more of what I gathered last time,” I said.

The farm wife huffed. “I’ll sell that dirty patch’ah land to yoo fa twenty cris,” she said.

I took out twenty small silver coins and handed them to the farm wife. She looked surprised.

“You must be a rich’a,” she said. “Many t’anks!”

I drove the cart past the house and to the fallow field under which the oil was concentrated. I had about a hundred gallons worth of barrels to carry the liquid gold back to the shop. It took me about an hour to fill everything. When I was done, I surveyed the barrels and then climbed back onto the carriage.

Mission accomplished.