Book 3, Chapter 12: The Hard Way

The jewelers were easy, mainly because what I’d asked them to do was well within their comfort zone. Make a bracelet out of iron, no gems added? No problem! Craft a plain ring? Sure! And a plain necklace? Ok, but are you really a princess? Don’t you want diamonds? Nope, ok, we’ll have this done for you in three days. That was a nice change of pace after all the fighting I had to do to implement every other idea I wanted.

Then it was time to visit the alchemist. Visiting him was like going to a horror show. I knew what to expect, but nothing could prepare me for it. Tread had been right, he was the castle’s craziest man, who had assured me he could work with the equipment I’d provided him – distillation equipment – and divide the alcohol distillates in the way I wanted. He was, after all, used to working with all matters alchemical. I should have listened more closely to Tread and Morry.

“I have worked out the device,” the elderly-appearing man said, his hands shaking, and passing me a cup. “Here is the first batch of what you called ‘whiskey.’ It’s much better than Duke Bechalle’s alejack.”

I took a sip. Notes of barley and vanilla, with an odd apple flavor. I took a mouthful, swished it around, downed it. “Not bad, needs time to age. Though it’s pretty sweet for a first distillation.” Not that I’d ever had distilled ale before it had been aged.

“I discovered your error, my lady. The heads, as you called it, aren’t poisonous at all, but very tasty.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I don’t know why you instructed me to toss out the tastiest part of the separation, but with my vast skills, I quickly caught onto your ruse. This,” he held up his glass of yellowish fluid, “is the result.”

I stared at him in horror. That explained the apple taste. He’d just given me mostly methanol. “You absolute moron!” I didn’t know how much methanol it took to go into organ failure and I didn’t want to find out. Rushing over to the wall, I tried to induce vomiting.

“Whatever are you doing?”

Coughing, spitting, “The heads are poisonous! You’re such an idiot, I have no words. Where’s the ale? The mead!”

“It’s not poisonous. I’ve had quite a bit of it myself, today. Quite sweet on the tongue. Very palatable.”

“You’re going to be blind soon and go into liver failure if you don’t also drink a lot of mead. Where is your mead?” This is what happens when you appoint someone whose been dosing themselves with mercury their entire adult life to carry out experiments. I was a fool. And I needed to get alcohol in my body as quickly as possible. Ethanol prevents methanol metabolism by monopolizing the metabolic process, thereby protecting you from the toxic byproducts of methanol and saving your organs. Unfortunately, it’s a lot of alcohol you have to drink to ensure this. Sigh. Here was my black-out drunk experiment.

“How dare you doubt me,” he shook his white-haired head angrily, “I’ve been doing alchemy longer than you’ve been alive!” Then he barked out a laugh and drank more of his methanol laced alcohol.

“You have serious frontal lobe damage to change emotions so quickly,” I couldn’t help myself but say while I searched the room for alcohol he didn’t poison. I held up what appeared to be unopened bottles of mead, “These? Have you used these?”

“Not yet, though I have added a stabilizer to them.”

“What . . . stabilizer?”

“The distillation. I’ve done it multiple times, just today. The first thing I can tell you is that the entire, ahem, alchemical process works best with the addition of quicksilver. As a stabilizer.”

“Excuse me? You are adding mercury to the ale before you distill it?”

“Before I simmer it, yes. As a calming agent, on the tempers of the barley malt extract.”

I stared at him for several moments, wondering if I should have him arrested for his own safety. Clearly, I’d have to toss out these distillation kits. I shouted, “Guards! Help!”

The door burst inward and they rushed in, “My lady?”

“Quickly bring four bottles of mead! And get the head nurse! And you two, dump out all these bottles. They’re poisonous.” I suddenly felt tipsy.

“You can’t dump out my work!”

“Listen, you just poisoned me. And yourself. We have to, I know this sounds weird, drink a lot of normal alcohol now. Mead! I mean mead.” Yeah, I decided, time to have him arrested. I wanted to yell at him, but what was the point? He was full of mercury and probably flavored his dinner rolls with lead sugar. Also, his liver was in the process of shutting down and he was going to enjoy the unconsciousness of a coma soon if I couldn’t get him very drunk on normal ethanol immediately.

“My lady, I am aware you were saving the heads for yourself, and I do apologize for drinking what should have been your first sample, but it was for the good of alchemy. And I am on to you.”

“It’s a wonder you are breathing.”

***

I was getting more than tipsy when Reese showed up. “Your Highness? Your man here took me at haste from my rather urgent appointments . . . ?”

“Reese! Lovely to see you again.” I swayed a bit, tried to keep her in focus, “I apologize for my . . . inebriated condition. The alchemist here, sorry, the Master Alchemist out in the hallway, well, we’ve been drinking methanol. But mostly him, all day. I need you to wheel him off to the hospital and fill him up with ethanol.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, methanol? Ethanol?”

I breathed in, out, concentrated and tried to think like a person unfamiliar with those terms, “Poisoned alcohol. I mean, poisoned water of the gods. A bad batch! You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I understand the word poison. I’m not sure how it relates to mead.”

“Reese, I can explain this to you,” I gestured at the equipment, “but this one time, can you take my word for it? With this equipment, he created a poison that can only be cured by heavy drinking. Mead, wine, ale, nonstop, until tomorrow afternoon.”

“You want me to keep that man drunk, for twenty-four hours?”

“That’s correct.”

“I can do this. But wouldn’t your soldiers be better suited to the job?”

“Huh. Maybe. I always thought of poison as requiring hospitalization.”

She folded her arms across her chest, sternly, narrowing her eyes, “For normal poisons, yes. But when the treatment is insobriety, a bunch of off duty soldiers might be better.”

“You make a good case. It shall be done!” I tossed back another glass, tossed it behind me to crash against the wall, picked up another and repoured.

“Princess Cayce!” she gave me a stern look. “I expect an answer when you sober up! A reasonable one.”

I bowed, somehow not slurring yet, “Thank you, my lady. I will give you an explanation,” and somehow making it to the door, opened it to shout at the soldiers, “Gentlemen! Can you keep this man drinking mead until tomorrow afternoon? At least one glass an hour.”

Two guards were keeping the elderly man sitting in the hallway. Their leader gave me an odd glance, “Your Highness?”

“You guys, too. As long as you keep him drinking till sometime tomorrow, feel free to drink with him. It’s your, it’s your solemn duty. Tonight, throughout the night and tomorrow morning!”

The guards on the ground broke into smiles, the lead guard coughing and covering his mouth as he bowed, “As my lady wishes. Come on boys, you heard the princess. Off we go!”

The soldiers took away the protesting, insane man. No idea what I was thinking trusting him. He seemed like the right choice at the time – next best thing to a chemist, right? Nope. Totally crazy, doesn’t listen. Looks like I’d have to distill my own alcohol going forward. Or train someone in the technique, but then they’d have to believe me about the dangers involved.

I shut the door, mostly walking, somewhat stumbling, back down to where Reese was. Sitting at the table, I poured myself another drink.

She watched the entire exchange. Then sat down in front of me and poured herself a glass. “Your Highness, why don’t you start at the beginning.”

“Sure Reese. You see these?” I gestured at the distillation equipment behind me.

“Yes.”

Finishing another sip of the mead and assuring myself I had to drink a lot of it, no matter how awful it was to relinquish responsibility of the kingdom for one day. I said, “This equipment is used for distillation. If you simmer ale or wine or mead in them, you can separate the alcohols out. Well, the first ones to come out are quite dangerous . . .”

***

Reese got me back to my apartments well enough. By that time, I was wrecked. Part of the problem was that I didn’t know how to calculate how much ethanol to drink, or how long to drink it, to get the methanol out of my system. I knew a bit about alcohol metabolism, but nothing about methanol excretion.

And anyways, I don’t know, sometimes you just need a good old day spent drinking. The liver, remember, is evil and must be punished.

No one was in, so she set me down in my bed. I remember that much. And imploring her to stay away from methanol. She agreed, good nurse that she is.

I woke up to Brin, sounding frightened, “Cayce! Cayce!”

“What is it? Why are you in my bed?”

She backed up until she almost fell off the large bed, eyes wide, look of horror on her face, her skin reflecting blue and yellow light.

I put my hand in front of my face. It was pulsing with blue energy, a little white here and there. Shit. The secret is out.

“Your eyes, Cayce! What is happening to you?!”

I exited the bed. Someone had stripped me of armor, probably Brin, maybe the ladies in waiting, maybe Reese. Damnit, I should have been more careful and not trusted that crazy self-poisoner. Oddly, I didn’t feel drunk. That would be bad unless the methanol was out of my system.

In the mirror, my hair was sparkling, lines of white and blue, my eyes were glowing lavender and purple, little jets streaming from them, energy all around my body. No wonder she was panicking. Hell, I started to panic, thinking about what would happen if I accidentally blasted her.

Carefully, I walked over to the window. Slowly opened it, pointed both my hands outside and dumped a thick laser across the night, the distant rooftops reflecting blue at the sky. Hopefully no one noticed. Or, if someone had, maybe magic being normal here wouldn’t raise any alarms.

“Brin, it’s ok. I’m sorry. Brin?”

“Are you a devil? Was the dowager right about you?” She, rather uselessly, held a pillow in front of her.

I sat at her feet, pulled up against her as they were, put my hand on her leg. “No, Brin, I’m no demon. This . . . this is why I’ve been hiding out alone. Ever since your uncle . . .” I lowered my voice, “I think it’s the pattern he cut into my back. Only my armor keeps the energy away. When I take it off, it’s like lightning. I’m too dangerous to be around people, Brin.”

“Oh, Cayce!” she grabbed me into a fierce hug, pulling me up into the bed. I shortly found myself sobbing on her shoulder. All the tension, keeping everything to myself, not knowing what to do. Her, too, tears.

In time, she pushed me back a bit, looking into my face, “He was a monster! But you need help. You have to tell one of the wizards. The grand magister!”

“Not him, Brin. Not him.”

“Then Etienne? You trust him, right?”

“A little. You don’t know what they’ll do. The grand magister said they don’t allow nobility to have magic. He’ll kill me, Brin. He stole your uncle’s knife, the one used to make these scars.”

“My uncle’s knife? Cayce, you need help. You looked like you were going to explode. You’re going to kill someone or worse.”

“Worse?”

She looked at me like I was stupid, “Yourself. That’s worse, isn’t it?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell Etienne. But let me do it, ok? Don’t go telling him or anyone else.” I took her hands and held her gaze carefully, “Brin, we can’t have ladies in waiting. The energy, it’s too dangerous. Plus-”

“Plus, their tongues might waggle.” She nodded, “Alright, only for special occasions.”

“No, I’m serious, it’s dangerous enough having you here. But three more girls running around? I blasted a dresser into splinters last week!”

“So that’s where it went! You said your armor stops the magic?”

“It seems to. Or bottle it up.”

“What if we turn some of it into jewelry? Bracelets that you don’t have to take off when you sleep! Rings, maybe. A necklace!”

“That’s a great idea. I’m having the jewelers make some right now because I need my armor resized, but you’re really just trying to get me into a dress again, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Cayce. You have suitors coming up. And you can’t go around exploding them.”

“I don’t know. That might be my preferred option.” She looked a little too happy and I knew she was making plans. “Brin, I really don’t want to cause one of the girls to explode. I mean, sometimes when they’re dressing me or putting make-up on me, but-”

“Cayce!” Brin gave me a stern look, “Those are my cousins!”

“You should think about their safety then! This energy is very dangerous, and I can barely contain it, let alone control it.”

“Maybe the jewelry will prevent the magic. If it works, then can we have the ladies in waiting move back in?”

I tilted my head, “Only if it works perfectly. Wait, no, they can’t. I need to release energy almost every night and morning and I try to practice daily to get a handle on this. If they’re in these rooms, they’ll eventually see.”

“You have more rooms outside in the hall. They could stay there and stay away from you until their duties. Dressing and make-up and,” she wagged her index finger in front of my face, “No blasting the little girls!”

“You better make sure they don’t touch the perseidian iron or take it off.”

“Deal. I’m going to go talk with the jewelers and make sure they’re designing something proper for a princess.”

How did I get cornered into being babysat by Brin again? And having her talk me into ladies in waiting again? “I’m sure it’s fine. Plain, normal, unadorned, that’s all I want. Listen, second thoughts, I know, sorry, but I don’t want ladies in waiting. I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself. Been doing it for months now.”

“In armor. You’ve been stuffing yourself into a gambeson and then pulling chainmail over your head. Well done, good job, you can dress like any old infantry man.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You’re the princess. Suitors are coming.” Brin looked at the floor, letting out a long sigh, “I’d best head over there first thing and get the designs sorted. Cayce?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

***

Though I’d gone to the jewelers myself, Brin took it upon herself to visit them, to ensure the product was befitting a princess. Really, she went to correct my errors in judgment, make sure I wasn’t getting thick manacles instead of graceful bracelets.

It took a few extra days, but from the irons, Brin expanded the jewelry to include not only bracelets and rings, but anklets, a necklace, and even earrings. To cover all the bases, she said. All the limbs, anyways. I was wary of the earrings since my ears hadn’t been shooting lasers out of them. Plus, I didn’t have piercings. So, that came first.

“This won’t hurt a bit, Princess.”

I shut my eyes as the elderly lady pulled out a long piercing tool. She roughly grabbed my ear, holding it steady, sharp pain, and inserted the stud. The other ear, repeat. I thought for sure I was going to wince, but it was nothing compared to Bechalle’s knife.

The lady nodded in approval at my lack of reaction. “You’ll want to keep these in overnight for the first month and,” she pointed her finger at me, waving it up and down with each syllable, “Wash them at night, check them every morning to make sure they’re clean and not pestilent. If they become sore, apply vinegar.”

“Will do.”

“My lady,” she did the appropriate body language and left us.

The jewelry gleamed in coal and gold, and all were thin, delicate pieces. Not a lot of metal to work with, spread amongst all this jewelry. I’d requested that no gems be added, and it took some convincing, because Brin wanted me all shiny and pretty, but in the end I got what I wanted: slim, unadorned bands. “After all,” I said to her, “what if gemstones magnify the magic?”

So, there they were. Attractive implements to cage the massive magical energy coursing around my body, unleashed by Bechalle, these symbolic chains imprisoning feminine bodies.

“Alright, alright,” I said, shutting the door, “I’ll try them on and if they work . . . “

“It’s just for a few days, Cayce. They need to resize the armor anyways.”

“Yeah, but it’s dresses. Again. Ok, stand back.” Normally, she’d help me with the armor, but I didn’t want to risk it. I was like a human battery and when the armor came off, liquid energy began pulsing around my body, up and down. Instead of shooting a beam out the windows like usual, I created a ball of energy between my palms and floated it outside. Off you go, don’t have spawn.

“That was different,” Brin said.

“Yeah. I didn’t know I could do that. I’m, uh, glad you’re still alive.”

Brin blinked twice, slowly, “Ok. Here,” she went down on her knees and slipped the anklets on. They were soft and thin chain link pieces that draped around my ankles. I barely felt them. As she did that, I put the bracelets on. Then, Brin stood and attached the necklace. I applied the rings. Applied, just like medicine and, in all likelihood, just as temporary.

“How do I look?”

“Much less manly. I’m kidding!” She threw her hands up and actually twirled around, “Like a princess again! Except we have to get you into proper attire.”

“Just wait a sec. Let’s see if . . . if it happens again.” I held my palm up away from Brin and toward the wall. No lightning danced on it. No sparks jumping from finger to finger.

“It seems fine. Let’s get the gambeson off you.”

“I could just swap to another set of armor! It doesn’t have to be perseidian chain now.”

“Cayce!” Brin was tapping her foot on the ground. “You have to meet the suitors as a princess, not a soldier.”

“I’m not so sure. I like the image I’ve cultivated. Warrior princess.”

“Ok, sure, fine, but aside from this,” Brin was smiling, with just a touch of sadness, inviting me to join her, “we don’t have any proper state armor for you. You can’t just dress in common soldier’s chain. It has to be pretty.”

“Ceremonial armor? Is that a thing?”

“Of course it is! Only not for women. But don’t worry, Cayce,” she pulled off the gambeson, “men don’t get to wear dresses, making us the envy of them all.”