Volume 4 - CH 1.5

“Victorique!”

It was about ten minutes later when a breathless Kazuya arrived at the conservatory, panting, partly due to the heat. Wiping off his sweat, he sat down next to Victorique in a familiar manner.

“Are… you bored?” he asked, gasping for air.

Victorique lifted her head up wearily. Kazuya gave a jerk.

A tiny face framed by bright golden hair. Green eyes holding a mysterious sparkle that he had never seen before.

Victorique was silent for a while. Kazuya waited with bated breath.

“Not really,” she said finally.

Kazuya sighed.

“Why do you ask?” Victorique said, smoking her pipe idly.

“Nothing. I learned something interesting, and I thought you’d be happy to hear it. You know, if you’re bored.”

“That so,” she said curtly.

Kazuya felt a little discouraged, but quickly lifted his spirits back up. “I’m gonna tell you anyway. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there used to be a mysterious alchemist in this academy.”

“A bizarre coincidence,” Victorique replied.

“Hmm? Coincidence?”

“I have actually just accepted the alchemist’s challenge.”

“You what?!”

A breeze blew through the skylight, stirring the flowers and leaves in the garden. It was hot outside in the summer sun, but here it was pleasantly cool, as though completely unaffected by the heat from the world outside.

Victorique, smoking her pipe languidly, was reading a book spread open on her lap.

Kazuya waited quietly for a while, but when he realized that Victorique had no intention of answering his question, he asked, “What do you mean by a challenge?”

Victorique ignored him. The wisp of smoke rising from the pipe quivered each time she shifted. While waiting, Kazuya took some of her macaroons and tossed them into his mouth, and organized the books scattered all over the floor.

“Kujou, did someone invite you to the movies?”

“Yup! Wait, how’d you know?”

“There’s a movie ticket stub peeking out of your pocket,” Victorique said in an impassive tone. “I can see the title a bit, and it doesn’t seem to be your cup of tea. I could therefore surmise that someone invited you.”

“Wow… You hit the nail on the head. There’s a new movie theater in the village, so we went there. And it turned out that the movie was based on the story of a mysterious alchemist who lived in this academy.”

“Ahuh…”

Victorique immediately lost interest in the topic and continued reading. Kazuya was doing his usual tidying, picking up the macaroon wrappers and putting all the scattered books in one place, while talking about the movie theater and what he had seen in the village. Victorique was puffing on her pipe without uttering a single reply, but after a while, she suddenly raised her head.

“Do you know what a Meissen porcelain is?” she asked.

“I do,” Kazuya replied, baffled. “It’s German tableware, right? It’s white and smooth and pretty. Why the sudden question?”

“I thought I’d tell you about alchemy.”

“Will it take long?”

“Of course.” Victorique nodded. “Very long. As long as a never-ending dream. Long as the life of a dragon. Come here and listen.”

Kazuya made a sour face, but reluctantly sat back down beside her.

“Kujou,” Victorique said, a cold expression on her face, “I don’t know how much you know about alchemy, but I would guess that you are mostly ignorant.”

“Yup, I know nothing about it. Sue me.”

“Allow me to explain, then. Alchemists are people who study the art of rewriting information in matter and transforming it into another substance. The techniques vary, but historically, there are three main things that people have sought from them. These are gold, immortality, and homunculi. These were believed to be created with the help of a special substance known as the Philosopher’s Stone, so powerful alchemists were thought to possess one. According to one theory, the stone had a rich red color like pomegranate. Kujou, if you fall asleep, we’re done.”

“I’m not sleeping! I just closed my eyes.”

Victorique snorted. “Alchemy is generally misunderstood as a demonic field that has been passed down from ancient times, but its history is actually brief, surprisingly enough. And I mean really brief. Did you know that?”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Now a young man makes his entrance. Germany, the beginning of the 17th century. His name was Johannes V. Andreae, the son of a pastor, and a blockhead. He wandered about during the day and attended religious circles at night. It was in that circle that Johannes met a young, unusual man who called himself Christoph. He was an enigmatic, unemployed dimwit who knew nine languages, including ancient Hebrew, and knew all sorts of useless trivia.”

“Speaking of useless trivia, I’m pretty sure you know just as much, if not more. Ow! Why’d you kick me?!”

“Anyway, the two idiots hit it off, which ultimately led to the advent of the long alchemy boom. They holed themselves up in their room and crafted a grand imaginary tale about a fictional character, despite their parents and brothers telling them to get a job or find a wife. In other words, they had a peculiar way of passing time. The hero of their story was Christian Rosenkreutz, a diabolical man born in the 14th century. The two idiots gave the fictional man various abilities and made him the leader of a group of alchemists called the Order of the Rose Cross. They came up with the Order’s enigmatic pavilion, their strict code, and their history, which they compiled into a book of fantasy literature titled The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz. Not content with that, they wrote two more books, the Fama and Confessio. In short, they had a lot of free time on their hands. But the three books they wrote in just a few years became bestsellers in Europe during the Middle Ages, and imitation books and people claiming to be members of the Order of the Rose Cross appeared. In just a short time, the imaginary tale that these two blockheads crafted was edited by society, and eventually became a reality in the course of subsequent history. Perhaps at a rate that even the two men could not stop.”

“I see…”

“They were a perfect match. Christoph was a fountain of all kinds of mystical knowledge from ancient times to the Middle Ages. But he himself could not do anything with his vast knowledge. That’s where Johannes came in. He browsed through Christoph’s vast knowledge, gathered only the interesting parts, and edited them. The talents of these two men brought the Order of the Rose Cross into life. Various books were published about the Order, creating a post-medieval frenzy.”

Victorique set the book down and chewed on a macaroon.

“So about the Meissen porcelain,” she continued.

“Change of subjects already, huh?”

“Not at all.” Victorique tossed the macaroon wrapper aside. Kazuya picked it up and put it in his pocket. “Now we go to 18th century Germany, where there was a young blockhead named Friedrich Bottger.”

“Another blockhead?”

“Yes. The history of alchemy is, in essence, the history of these blockheads. Friedrich was an apprentice apothecary, but he went around telling everyone that he was a great alchemist and that he had a Philosopher’s Stone. One night, the Polish king’s army kidnapped Friedrich. There was something the king really wanted.”

“Money?”

“No. There are these beautiful porcelain plates in your country, no? I believe it’s called Imari1.”

Kazuya nodded. “Yup. They’re white, smooth, and pretty. What about it?”

“The King of Poland was very fond of the porcelain plates he received from the Orient. At the time, Imari ware were precious items, valued at the same price as gold. The king wished to create exactly the same thing using alchemy. Friedrich, imprisoned in the royal workshop, was at a loss. He wanted to go home so badly, but he couldn’t. The king had believed his lies and pestered him day and night to use his Philosopher’s Stone. If he confessed, he would be executed. Friedrich drowned himself in alcohol while kneading and baking clay, and after ten years, he finally produced beautiful, white, smooth porcelain, similar to the Imari ware. Delighted, the king built a factory for mass production. That’s how the Meissen porcelain came to be.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Kazuya remarked. “So what happened to this Friedrich guy?”

“He died of stress and heavy drinking. A portrait of him is on display in the Meissen Porcelain Museum, with a pale face, gulping down a cup of wine. What I’m trying to say is…”

Victorique seemed irritated for some odd reason. Her cheeks were flushed. Kazuya studied her face curiously.

“Alchemists say enigmatic things to bewilder others, but the fact is that alchemy’s history is fraught with fraud. What I have just told you is only a small part of that history. Some men went too far with their lies, and some wrote fantasy literature to pass the time. Over the course of centuries, the people who wanted to believe their lies, and time itself, turned their fantasy into reality.” Victorique snorted. “In other words, the alchemist Leviathan, who lived in St. Marguerite Academy, was just one of those frauds. Needless to say, he did not create something out of nothing. He was just skilled at deceiving people. They’re eternal pranksters, so to speak. Unruly children who won’t come down from the tree even when their mother is angry.”

“But apparently that alchemist became quite famous and ended up meddling in Sauville’s politics.”

“Utter nonsense. Had I lived in the same period as Leviathan, I would have exposed his trickery. With my Wellspring of Wisdom, I would have picked up the scattered pieces of chaos from behind his mask, reconstructed them, and choked the life out of him in no time at all!” Victorique’s face was red. “I will speak for the fool and reveal his secrets!” she declared, her face filled with rage.

Kazuya regarded her small face. “Hmm…?”

A breeze blew through the skylight, tousling Victorique’s long hair. A wisp of smoke billowed to the ceiling from the pipe sitting on the shoe-shaped pipe rest. Birds chirped in the distance.

“Sounds like you’re having a lot of fun,” Kazuya said.

“Fun? Me?”

“Yeah. Because for once you’re not bored, thanks to that alchemist.”

Victorique’s cheeks puffed, and she fell silent. Kazuya watched her with a smile.

White smoke continued rising toward the skylight. Birds chirped once more.

The dazzling sunlight spilling through the skylight announced to the conservatory that it was already summer outside.