Chapter 12: The Alchemist's Guild
Ylmare was never truly quiet. Even before the sun had risen, the streets began to echo with the sounds of carts, hooves, and the occasional shouting of early vendors setting up stalls. But in the aftermath of the Black Dune's exposure, the city felt different — like a wound that had been cut open to let out poison.
Farhan stood by the second-story window of his shop, sipping a mug of strong tea as he watched a city in slow recovery. The Merchant's Hearth had become more than just a novelty shop; it had become a symbol — a place that dared to stand against shadowy forces.
And that meant it was under more eyes than ever.
"Word is spreading," Denel said, stepping into the room with a parchment scroll in her hand. "The Council has declared the Black Dune operation officially dismantled… at least in this district."
"Good," Farhan said, taking the scroll. "But they'll be back. Or someone worse."
He unrolled the scroll. The seal was unfamiliar — a coiled serpent around a flask. The script was elegant and careful.
To the Esteemed Merchant Farhan Rahman,
The Ylmare Alchemist's Guild requests your audience at their central chapterhouse on the matter of trade integration and magical innovation.
By the Order of Senior Alchemist Caldra Rin.
Attendance: Urgent. Noncompliance will be noted.
Regards,
Guild Envoy.
Farhan raised an eyebrow. "Caldra Rin. Isn't she the alchemist who—"
"Once turned a forest purple during a potion experiment? Yes," Denel said. "She's eccentric. But she's also the chairwoman of the guild now. That makes her dangerous."
"Sounds like someone I should meet."
—
The Alchemist's Guild headquarters was nothing like Farhan expected.
While most buildings in Ylmare were a mix of stone and wood with steep roofs, the guild stood as a circular tower of shining greenstone, with copper piping crawling along its outer walls like vines. Small bursts of steam hissed from vents, and the smell of burned herbs and sulfur clung to the air.
He was escorted inside by a silent, robed apprentice who barely looked up from the glowing orb he was scribbling notes into.
Farhan couldn't help but glance at it. "A memory sphere?"
"Classified," the apprentice replied without breaking stride.
Inside, the walls were lined with glowing ingredients in floating crystal jars. Bright powders, dark ichors, and one jar that seemed to whisper faintly. Farhan kept his hands firmly to himself.
Caldra Rin waited in a chamber filled with copper instruments, bubbling alembics, and an array of magical apparatuses that looked like a science lab and a wizard's study had collided in midair.
She was younger than he expected — maybe in her thirties — with short-cropped silver hair, golden spectacles, and a lab coat stained with what looked suspiciously like soot and glitter.
"Farhan Rahman," she said with a grin, removing her gloves. "The man who brought fireless lanterns and self-cooling potions to Ylmare."
"You've done your research."
"I never ignore disruption. Especially when it affects my potion sales."
Farhan inclined his head. "I assume this isn't a friendly visit."
"Oh no, it absolutely is," she said, waving him to a seat. "It's just… dangerous."
She leaned in, her eyes gleaming. "I want to work with you."
Farhan didn't hide his surprise. "You do?"
"Let's not pretend," Caldra said. "Your wares aren't alchemy. They're not magic either. But they work. And the people love them."
"They're… foreign imports."
"Exactly," she said. "You're opening doors. And while half the guild wants to burn those doors down, I want to open them wider."
Farhan was silent for a moment. "You want a partnership."
"I want a trade agreement. You bring in devices and compounds. My guild studies them — with proper oversight, of course — and in return, you get access to classified potion formulas, state licenses, and exclusive ingredients."
He considered this. "What's the catch?"
She smiled sweetly. "You'll have to deal with the Guild Elders. And they don't like outsiders. Especially ones who don't wear robes and brew things in beakers."
"I assume they'll try to block it."
"Oh, they'll fight it tooth and nail. But if you impress them, you'll gain something even rarer than profit in this city."
"What's that?"
"Legitimacy."
Farhan leaned back. "I'll do it. But on one condition."
Caldra raised a brow. "Which is?"
"I get to pick what I show. No full access to my world's tech. Just samples, chosen by me."
Caldra tapped her chin. "Agreed — as long as they're interesting."
Farhan smiled. "Oh, they will be."
—
The Guild Trial was held three days later in the Alchemical Grand Hall, a massive dome filled with tiered seats, glowing sigils, and a central podium that looked suspiciously like a sacrificial altar.
Eighteen Elders sat in judgment, each in colored robes signifying their school — Crimson for combustion, Emerald for growth, Sapphire for mind, and so on.
Farhan stood alone at the center, three devices on a small velvet table beside him:
1. A packet of instant cold packs.
2. A battery-powered water purifier.
3. A spray bottle of Earth-brand insect repellent.
Whispers filled the hall.
Elder Grum, a stocky man with burns on both hands, scoffed. "These are toys."
Farhan picked up the cold pack. "This? A toy? Watch."
He snapped the inner pouch and the packet instantly turned ice-cold. He passed it to Grum.
The man flinched. "It's freezing!"
"No spells. No ingredients. Just chemistry."
Next, Farhan lifted the water purifier. He poured a cup of foul swamp water Caldra had 'helpfully' provided into the top. After a short hum, crystal-clear water trickled out into a cup.
He took a sip.
"Clean, filtered, safe. No boiling. No distillation."
Elder Sira, a sharp-eyed woman in a dark sapphire robe, narrowed her eyes. "That's impossible. There's no runes, no chant, no glyph—"
"Just engineering," Farhan said. "And mass production."
Finally, he held up the insect spray. "This one's for practical use."
He spritzed the air.
Nothing seemed to happen — until the ceiling rafters erupted in a rain of squealing, fleeing cave-mites, scattering like ash.
The alchemists gasped.
Caldra clapped delightedly.
Elder Grum coughed into his beard. "And what do you call these… marvels?"
Farhan met their eyes. "Just the beginning."
—
The vote passed — barely.
Ten for. Eight against.
Caldra approached him after the trial, beaming. "You've made history."
"I've also made enemies."
"Then you're doing it right."
—
Back at the Hearth, Denel met him with a stack of letters.
"Two more nobles want private orders," she said. "Also, a courier from the University of Mystech left this."
Farhan opened the letter.
It was an invitation — sealed in golden wax.
° To Farhan Rahman,
Your recent demonstrations have intrigued our faculty. We invite you to deliver a lecture on 'Foreign Mechanisms and Magical Alternatives.'
We'll pay handsomely. And ensure full protection.
Sincerely,
Dean Halvaric Graymist, Mystech Division.°
Farhan smiled slowly.
"Things are moving fast," Denel said cautiously.
"They always do when revolution starts," Farhan replied.
He looked at the window again, the city sprawling beyond.
The Black Dune was gone — but now the real game was beginning.
And Farhan? He had just drawn his opening hand.