Tamara's POV
The Guild of Alchemists is an esteemed organization consisting of skilled practitioners of the ancient and mystical art of alchemy. They are a community for alchemists to share knowledge, conduct research, and collaborate on outrageous experiments. They follow strict standards of ethics and conduct, ensuring the responsible and ethical practice of alchemy.
Alchemists within the guild dedicate their lives to unlocking the secrets of the universe, exploring elements, creating potions and elixirs. The guild provides resources, education, and mentorship to its members, and I am one of them or I was.
I stepped out of the alchemist guild, with the heavy doors slamming shut and I immediately understood that was the closing of that chapter in my life. Years of dedication, of near-obsessive study, all thrown away because of a jealous old woman who couldn't handle being outshined.
I yearned for a memory just out of reach. It was that very yearning that had driven me to the guild in the first place. A missing piece, a fragment of myself lost to something. I knew, with a certainty that defied logic, that mastering alchemy was the key to unlocking my forgotten past. My unconventional methods, unorthodox approach to the art – these were the very things that had ostracized me. The guild valued tradition above all else, their balanced formulas and outdated practices confined my creativity.
I had already packed my things from my workshop, and with a sigh, I shouldered my satchel. Time to head home, to lick my wounds and re-evaluate. As I entered Bamford's busy marketplace, a commotion caught my attention. A group of well-dressed merchants surrounded a young boy, no older than seventeen. He was small, agile, and possessed a quick wit that anyone could see in his eyes. He was arguing them off with a verbal knowledge far beyond his years, dodging their accusations of petty theft.
Intrigued, I watched as he outsmarted them, leaving them talking amongst themselves with frustrated rage. I saw something in him I had never seen before in any kid his age. Seizing the opportunity, I approached him as the merchants went away, "Fucking peasant boy!" One of them cussed at him.
"Well done, young man," I said, offering him a warm smile. "You handled that very well."
The boy was startled then he turned to face me. His clothes were ragged, his face smudged with dirt, but his eyes... "Who are you?" he asked.
"Tamara," I replied, extending a hand. "And you?"
"Elias," he mumbled, taking my hand.
"Well, where are your parents Elias?" I softly asked.
Sadness crossed his face and he looked away as he said, "I'm an Urchin."
In Bamford, orphans were called urchins, a daily reminder of their place at the bottom of the social ladder.
"From this day forward," I declared, "that name is lifted from you. You are Elias, and you are my little brother."
Elias's jaw dropped. "But… you don't even know me," he stammered. "Why would you…?"
"Because," I interrupted, looking him in the eye, "a good heart doesn't need justification. And spending the night on the cold streets is an indignity no child deserves."
I could see hope in his eyes, and I could also see that he was battling with to trust me because of his life lived on the streets.
"I'm not a bad person, Elias," I continued, my voice was gentle. "Just a woman who recognizes potential when she sees it. Come, let me show you a warm bed and a hot meal. You can decide your next step in the morning."
Hesitantly, he followed me as the evening came close. "You should know how the streets are for us ladies by this time of the day." I said to Elias as we walked away from the market.
We arrived at my cottage, a modest home tucked away on a quiet lane on Bury street. Inside, the air scented like old books and brewing potions. "It's not much," I apologized, ushering Elias inside, "but what I have, you're welcome to share."
His eyes shifted around the room, looking at the concoctions on the worktable, the quite dusty shelves overflowing with books, and the diagrams adorning the walls. As he looked around I busied myself making tea and setting out a plate of warm biscuits. Then I put by the side freshly baked bread straight from Baker Abernathy's oven.
"Thank you," Elias mumbled, taking a sip. "No one's ever… served me like this before."
My heart ached for the life he'd clearly never known. "Well, then it's high time someone did," I replied with a smile. "Now, tell me, Elias, what did you do to earn yourself such a harsh accusation from those merchants?"
"I'm urchin, of course I receive such accusations every now and then at the marketplace."
He continued to munch on his biscuit as he kept on looking around the room once more. Then, a realization hit him. "Are you… an Alchemist?"
I chuckled. "Used to be," I corrected. "I was ostracized from the guild."
He was shocked, "But… how? Why would they kick out someone like you?"
"Let's just say," I paused, "they weren't too fond of my unconventional methods."
"Unconventional?" He said. "So they were scared to try new things."
I chuckled, "You could say that."
His curiosity piqued. "What exactly did you do that got you kicked out?"
There was a hesitation in me, a reluctance to revisit the painful memories. But something about Elias's genuine interest made me give in.
"For the past eight years," I confessed, "I've been haunted by a missing piece of myself, a memory just out of reach. It became an obsession, and I dedicated myself to creating a potion, a way to restore lost memories."
Elias's eyes widened. "A memory potion?"
I nodded. "At the guild, I experimented, pushing the boundaries of traditional alchemy. I was getting closer, I could feel it. But then… the head alchemist, she grew jealous. She couldn't handle the fact that a new approach might be superior to her outdated methods."
I became angry, "They don't even know what they've lost," I muttered. "This potion… it could have incredible applications. But because it doesn't fit neatly into their codes of conduct…"
"They shut you down," Elias finished.
"Exactly." I sighed. "And what's worse, I can't even talk about it to anyone. The other alchemists wouldn't understand, and the head alchemist… well, she'd stop at nothing to see my work destroyed."
Elias leaned forward. "If this is a secret I can assure you no one will know of this," he vowed. Then he continued, "but you can't stop now," he declared. "This potion… it's important to you."
"It is," I admitted.
"Then we'll find a way," he said with a determination. "We'll finish it together."
I was in complete awe. "You… you would do that?"
"Of course," he said. "You took me in, gave me a roof over my head and a warm meal. The least I can do is help you with your life's work."
The smile on my face began to fade, "The thing is," I began, "every project at the guild is funded. Right now, I have no resources to continue."
"Don't worry," he said. "We'll figure something out. You just focus on the potion, and I'll focus on getting what we need."
And just like that, the smile on my face returned. The guild may have ostracized me, but here, in this unexpected turn of events, I had found an unlikely ally.