Chương 177: Chapter 37: A Forest to Drown a King

Maya looked at her, observing the deep rumination in her eyes. She had expected an immediate reaction from her friend, but Selena seemed unable to break out of her state; meanwhile, the young alchemist, her eyes brimming with shared pride, continued to seek the countess's opinion. Selena forced herself out of the historical shock she had fallen into. —It is truly incredible —Selena said at last, her voice sounding genuinely impressed, because she truly was. The young alchemist smiled deeply at those words.

However, the countess continued, needing to articulate her thoughts and inquire further into what she had witnessed. —A beautiful way to give agency to alchemy. Very modern, as well. I am intrigued... —She paused, feigning innocent curiosity— Why so much protection? The suit, the mask, the lead, the ventilation... Bramis placed the glass onto a soft cloth, his expression clouding over with a shade of profound sadness, as if distant memories reflected in his eyes.

—Because when we first discovered it in the laboratory... —His voice gradually lowered, almost echoing with regret— A few years ago, based on notes from students who brought back data from some mines up north... many died through carelessness. They burned their hands to the bone handling it without gloves. Others inhaled the vapors and fell ill within hours, coughing up blood. When Anselmo examined them after they passed, he found their lungs turned to pulp. The girls remained silent.

In Selena's mind, images danced, men from another land, three of them French and one British, and her brow began to ache slightly. Bramis paused, looking directly at Maya. —Just as I told Maya, the alchemist's safety is just as important as the result we seek. An alchemist always faces danger, for we seek knowledge of strange sciences, with secrets unknown to us. That is why we take risks. Some die. Others learn. But in the end, we are all part of the same chain leading to the causality of the kingdom's progress.

Therefore, if we take proper care of ourselves, we achieve greater good: we preserve knowledge, rather than merely discovering it. Selena looked at him the man in the seafoam-green robe with sad eyes and a wave of genuine respect washed over her. There was no madness in him, nor the recklessness of the ignorant. He was a cautious pioneer, a man who had seen the price of progress and chosen to forge ahead, but with the lessons learned seared into his memory.

—You are a man to be admired —Selena said, and this time there was no pretense in her words. Bramis smiled, though at the corners of his lips, a concealed sorrow remained visible. Selena, however, continued speaking. —Surely, one of these days, you will grant us all a discovery so significant that it will allow us to advance centuries in just a few decades. That is the power of true human science... of the scientific method.

—She smiled; a warm smile filled with hope she rarely felt— I hope the treatise I collaborated on will also be of use to you and your department. After all, as you said, advancement is a service to an entire community. Bramis offered a knowing smile, raising his voice with a solemnity unique to instructors addressing students, and then spoke: —An interesting method. I sketched something similar ten years ago —he rubbed his chin with one hand— though I did not make it public.

Here in the department, when I was appointed head of the path, I instituted it, though it only had four steps: question, observation, result, and replication. Selena's eyes widened. The man before her was a genius, an absolute one. She then looked at Maya, whose smile was now pure happiness at her friend's praise for her professor, and turned back to Bramis. —It was good to see you, Professor. I was completely amazed. I did not expect alchemy to be so... impressive, especially with a friend as skilled in it...

—She wiggled an eye at Maya— Perhaps she will even find that metal that burns in water. Bramis looked at her, his pale green eyes fixed on her as if trying to decipher text in a forgotten language. It was clear an idea was rapidly swirling in his mind. —A metal that burns in water... —he repeated slowly, chewing on the words— I suppose it is not impossible. Though it sounds like imagination. It is interesting...

something like the opposite of what happens to iron with liquid, where it rusts, rots, and silently dissolves. I suppose the opposite must exist. Nature loves its symmetries, even the violent ones. Selena smiled broadly. The man's mind delighted her, though she could say no more. Bramis paused, studying her closely, almost seeing her in a new light. —You are interesting, young lady of Solendra.

I hope Maya catches some of those ideas—that she casts away the fear of the impossible and holds close to her heart a curiosity for the improbable. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Maya spoke this time, her voice lower, a tone of mild embarrassment coloring her cheeks. —I... I didn't think that could happen, Master. I assumed water extinguished fire, not... something else.

Bramis laughed, a soft, warm sound that seemed to dissolve the last chemical tension in the air. —We are all ignorant, Maya. Nothing is impossible until we prove it so. And even then, we might have been mistaken in how we tested it. —His eyes rested on the etched glass, which now lay like a scientific trophy upon a velvet cloth— That is why curiosity and persistence are good to have. Do not worry; at your age, I did not believe we could draw on glass, let alone conceive of the method I showed you today.

I thought glass was... complete. Immutable. He shook his head with a nostalgic smile, longing for other times. —There is always hope for progress, even if we, as young minds, blind ourselves through ignorance. The trick is not to let blindness turn into a wall. An hour later, in the main dining hall, the atmosphere was a hive of voices and activity.

Students crowded together during the final days before the month-long winter break, exchanging notes, making travel plans, and laughing with the nervous energy that precedes a long recess. The air smelled of thick stew, freshly baked bread, and the moisture of snowy boots drying beside the stone hearths. Selena headed to a quieter corner near a high window through which the grayish afternoon light filtered. Maya followed her like a faithful shadow.

There, at a worn coralwood table, they found Ren, completely absorbed in a game of chess with Zorn. It was Zorn; over time, Selena had learned through rumors that he was the heir to a border house more famous for its debts and perpetual decline than its power. He was leaned over the board, his long, pale fingers hovering over a piece carved like a war titanopod. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his dark, almost black eyes reflecting the room's dim light like pools of stagnant water.

Ren, sitting across from him, wore the expression of a man trying to tame a lanquirio with his bare hands: determined, but clearly outmatched. Selena observed them without interrupting. Maya, with a silent and practical gesture, went to the counter and returned with a pitcher of mushroom milk, foamy, warm, with a subtle earthy aroma along with a plate of thick oat and honey cookies. She placed them on the table without a word, and both began to eat while watching the match out of the corner of their eyes.

Ren lost and lost again. Out of five quick, tense games, he won only one. On the fourth defeat, a deep sigh laden with resigned frustration escaped his lips. He let his dune felis, serving as a king, dignified and powerful, topple onto the side of the board with a soft click. —It's no use —he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair— You're far too good, Zorn, or I'm far too bad. He greeted the girls with a tired gesture, and Selena offered the plate of cookies to both of them.

Zorn took one, examined it for a moment as if evaluating its tactical worth, and then bit into it delicately. That was when Selena spoke, her clear voice cut through the dining hall's murmur. —You have an innate talent, Baron Zorn of Tlakran —she said, smiling at him a smile not of condescension, but of recognition between players— But you are still a novice. She paused dramatically, letting the words settle. Unconcerned, she bit into a cookie; once she finished chewing, she spoke again.

—Would you like me to give you the same feeling you just gave Ren? Zorn looked up, and for the first time, a genuine, small smile appeared on his thin lips. His dark eyes flashed with a spark of restrained excitement. —I thought you would never know or remember that I am a minor baron from the Veridia border, under the vassalage of the great House Solendra. Truly, you are the only one in this entire university who has not looked down on me for coming from a declining barony shrouded in shame. Thank you, Selena.

—He remained silent for a moment, ate another cookie, and then, with a more challenging tone, added— I accept the challenge. I suppose the former heiress duchess of Solendra was trained in the art of bersh logic from the cradle. They reset the board. The pieces, carved from dark and light wood, returned to their starting positions. Once set, they faced each other across the board in the eternal back-and-forth of military strategy.

It was like watching two ancient rivals measure one another anew after learning fresh techniques. Then, Selena played. She did not lose a single time, but it was more than just skill; it was like watching a master fencer disarm an enthusiastic apprentice with movements that seemed to predict every breath, every intent. After all, one of her memories, one she held closest to her heart was having placed third in the national championship back on Earth.

It was a memory she had recovered bit by bit through the fog of unconsciousness when she first woke up in the Solendra manor. Zorn, who against Ren had been a patient predator, now found himself cornered, his strategies unraveling with cold, devastating elegance. Selena did not play to win quickly; she played to teach. Every move of hers was a lesson: a sacrifice that opened a lethal line, an advanced pawn that became a thorn in his flank, a nimora dancing across the board like a green ghost.

After the fifth game, which ended in another clean, unassailable defeat for Zorn, Selena left the boy's dune felis standing in the center of the board surrounded, yet unfallen. She exhaled, and the breath sounded like one thing alone: satisfaction. —I think you can improve —she said, her green eyes locked onto Zorn's. Ren looked at her in fascination, while Maya merely gazed at her, her eyes practically confirming what she had always thought of her.

Selena finished her thought: —Play better with your coralwood tree next time. Do not use it merely as a wall; let it breathe, let its invisible roots control the squares. Remember: the nimora is important, swift, and lethal, but an anurhy... She reached out her finger and pointed to a pawn she had promoted, transforming it into a second queen. —... can become any piece if it reaches the end of the board. Every piece matters. That is why reserve pawns... are often the most vital and the most underrated.

They are not cannon fodder; they are seeds. And from a seed in the right square, a forest can grow to drown a king. Zorn looked at her, and in his dark eyes, there was no longer mere frustration, but a new understanding, a respect that extended far beyond the board.

He nodded slowly, saying nothing, as his mind absorbed the lessons not only of chess, but of the woman imparting them: a countess who played like a general, who viewed the board not as a game, but as a map of possibilities a battlefield where thought was the sharpest weapon.