"Very well, Jasmin," he agreed after a moment's thought. "Your discretion is paramount, remember? What you see, what we discuss, stays between us."
"Yes, my lord! Absolutely!" she promised fervently, relief and excitement washing over her face.
"Good. Then gather more empty buckets – sturdy ones, preferably wooden – and meet me near the weeping willows by the secluded pond in one hour. We have ash to collect."
Leaving Jasmin scrambling to find suitable buckets, her mind buzzing with bewildered excitement, Lloyd headed towards the estate's numerous fireplaces. He needed ash, specifically from hardwoods like oak or maple, burned cleanly. Softwoods like pine contained too much resin, producing a weaker extract unsuitable for his purposes. He spent the next hour moving discreetly through quieter sections of the estate, collecting cooled ashes from hearths, carefully sifting out chunks of unburned wood or debris, explaining his actions vaguely as 'soil enrichment experiments' to any curious servants he encountered. It was dirty, mundane work, a far cry from commanding lightning wolves or manipulating steel, but utterly essential.
An hour later, several buckets heavy with fine, grey hardwood ash sat beside the tranquil pond. The weeping willows trailed their green tendrils in the still water, the air peaceful, disturbed only by the chirping of birds and the low murmur of Lloyd explaining the next step to a wide-eyed Jasmin.
"Now, Jasmin," Lloyd instructed, gesturing towards one of the buckets. "We need to draw out that hidden potency from this ash. Rainwater is best, but pond water will suffice." He indicated the rudimentary setup he was constructing: punching small holes in the bottom of one bucket, placing it over another empty bucket, and layering straw or small pebbles in the bottom of the top bucket to act as a filter.
"We layer the ash carefully over the filter," he demonstrated, scooping handfuls of the fine powder. "Then, we slowly pour water over it." He took a dipper of pond water and began trickling it gently onto the ash bed. "Watch closely. The water passes through the ash, dissolving something hidden within it, something powerful. This liquid that drips out," he pointed as the first cloudy, brownish drops began to seep through the drainage holes into the collection bucket, "carries that power."
Jasmin watched, fascinated, her eyes fixed on the slowly dripping liquid. It didn't look like much – just dirty water. Yet the Young Lord spoke of it with such seriousness, such caution. "This… this is the special water, my lord? The hidden fire?"
"In a weak, impure form, yes," Lloyd confirmed. "This is the essence we need. But it's not yet strong enough for our purpose. We'll need to pass this water through the ash many times, letting it dissolve more and more of that hidden substance. Or," he added thoughtfully, "we might carefully boil some of the water away later, concentrating the potency."
He met her gaze, his expression serious. "But listen carefully, Jasmin. This liquid, even now, is not like normal water. It's… aggressive. Caustic. It can irritate the skin, and if it were stronger, it could cause burns. Never touch it directly. Handle the buckets with care, avoid splashing. Understand?"
Jasmin nodded solemnly, her eyes wide with a newfound respect for the seemingly innocuous dripping liquid. It wasn't just dirty water; it was something potent, something requiring caution. "Yes, my lord. I understand. Extreme care."
She watched him work, slowly, patiently adding water, monitoring the dripping liquid accumulating in the lower bucket. The process was slow, tedious.
"But why, my lord?" she finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do we need this… this strong, burning water? You mentioned the fat…"
Lloyd paused, looking up from his work, meeting her curious gaze. He offered a small smile. "An excellent question, Jasmin. It comes down to transformation. A kind of alchemy, perhaps, though simpler than what the Guild masters practice."
He picked up a small twig. "Think of the fat," he drew a simple chain shape in the dirt, "like this. Long chains, greasy, content on their own, unwilling to mix with water." He then drew a small circle next to it. "And think of this special ash-water as this – energetic, eager to react, to change things."