Chapter 45
Huh?
…
"Okaaay…" Eilor murmured, letting out a long sigh as he lifted the sheet in front of him.
He turned it a couple of times, tilting his head as if that would help make sense of it, but it was useless.
The paper looked like a tangle of crooked lines, crossed-out arrows, scribbles, symbols that only made sense to him, cramped paragraphs, and notes squeezed into the margins.
"What the hell…?" he muttered, bringing it a little closer. "I definitely need more paper…" he grumbled under his breath.
Eli, who was still chatting with one of the newly awakened, glanced at him and let out a barely audible chuckle from the other side of the table.
"That," she said, pointing at the sheet with a finger, "is the most illegible summary I've ever seen in my life."
Eilor arched an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off the mess.
"Yeah, well… it has its own system," he replied dryly.
"System?" she repeated, laughing softly. "If that has a system, I'm a librarian."
Eilor snorted, setting the paper down on the table.
"Don't make fun," he said, though the corner of his mouth curled into an involuntary smile. "There's logic in there."
"Uh-huh…" Eli nodded with feigned seriousness. "It's just written in a language even you don't understand."
The nearby group laughed softly. Some leaned over to look at the sheet and made joking comments:
"Is that a note or an incantation?"
"It looks like a map of a mental crime scene."
Eilor just raised an eyebrow, defeated but amused, and sank a little into his chair.
He sighed and leaned his elbow on the table, holding the sheet up to the light, but a slight smile remained on his face.
He bit his lip, silent.
"Well…" he finally said, lowering the paper. "I admit it might be… a little illegible."
Eli laughed softly, the sound breaking the stillness of the place.
"'A little,' he says," she repeated, imitating his tone. "That's not writing, it's a battlefield."
She rested her chin on her hand and added, with a barely contained smile:
"You should put a sign on it: 'Here lie the victims of coherence.'"
Eilor let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
"Very funny. Next time I write something, I'll leave the calligraphy to you."
Eli leaned on one arm, tilting her head slightly while pointing at the sheet with a finger and a half-smile. "Can you even read it yourself?"
Eilor looked at her for a second, then looked down at the paper as if analyzing an abstract artwork.
"Mmm… yes." He leaned forward, frowning.
Eli let out a small laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
Eilor watched her with feigned indignation.
Eilor turned the sheet, looking for an angle that would make it more legible, and murmured:
"Maybe if I look at it upside down…"
Eli laughed openly this time, lowering her arm and leaning back against the chair back.
---
The alchemist woke with a slight start.
He blinked a couple of times, his eyes still heavy, until the murmur of the place cleared his head.
He sat up slowly, bracing himself with one hand on the mattress, stretching until his back cracked.
As he did, he noticed the change in the atmosphere: there were no more silent corners in the room.
Behind him to his left, a group had gathered around the table where everyone was talking. Voices mingled with laughter, cross-talk, and the occasional yawn.
He turned his neck, stretching with a faint crack, and his gaze stopped at the other end of the hall.
There, another group was sorting weapons and equipment.
Metals clashed together in an irregular rhythm, and voices were beginning to mix into a friendly argument.
There, some young men were lifting a spear and asking loudly:
"Whose is this? I'm not carrying it again if it's not mine!"
"Leave it there, it's Jan's!" another replied without even moving.
"Are you sure? Because Jan swears he didn't bring it!"
"Whose dagger is this?" one asked, holding it up by the hilt.
"Not mine!" another replied without even looking.
"Of course it is, yours has the broken hilt," a third voice chimed in.
"Mine was broken from the start!" the first one protested.
The alchemist allowed himself a half-smile.
The din increased little by little, amid half-asleep arguments and loose jokes.
Around him, the few who were still lying down weren't really sleeping anymore: some had their eyes half-open, listening to the conversation; others simply refused to move, with blankets pulled up to their necks.
The alchemist got up from his corner, stretching with a yawn so long it seemed to drag the weariness of the whole night.
He stretched a little more, searching for something with his gaze.
He found it in a corner, crushed under a coat.
He approached with a sigh and pulled it out, shaking it.
A small cloud of dust rose as he did so. It was a satchel.
"Ugh…" he huffed.
Not too concerned about possible looks, he began to remove part of his clothing.
He started undoing the clasps of the blue uniform, one by one, with slow, almost automatic movements. The fabric, stiffened by moisture, gave way with a rough sound, like old paper tearing.
The uniform fell away in parts: first the outer jacket, then the cross-straps holding the side pockets.
Underneath, the loose shirt still clung a bit to his torso, marked by pale stains of salt and dried sweat.
He shook the sleeves a little, ran a hand over his neck, and then walked toward the group gathered near the table.
The murmur of conversations mixed with the metallic noise of the weapons the other group was still sorting.
He crossed the hall, dodging a pair of discarded boots and an open toolbox, until he reached the main table.
Eli noticed him first and looked up, greeting him with a slight gesture.
"Good morning, or whatever this is," murmured the alchemist, rubbing his eyes.
Eilor nodded, still seated, with the sheet in hand.
"Almost everyone is awake now."
"Yeah, I noticed," said the alchemist, looking toward the group still arguing over the weapons.
One of the young men from the back group raised his voice:
"Hey, alchemist! Your bag was about to be used as a pillow!"
"Then it at least served a purpose," he replied without turning, which provoked a few scattered laughs.
Meanwhile, Eilor stretched his arms and rubbed his face, letting out a long sigh.
Eli watched him out of the corner of her eye.
The alchemist dropped the satchel on the table with a dull thud and turned around.
The alchemist moved suddenly, almost as if a spring propelled him.
In the blink of an eye, he was no longer by the table: he had returned to the bed where he had woken up.
The mattress creaked under his weight, and the young man next to him jumped back, letting out a choked sound.
"What…?!" he managed to say, fright evident in his voice.
The alchemist didn't even look at him.
His hands were already moving, pushing aside the crumpled blanket.
The gesture was quick, almost impatient.
He found what he was looking for.
He bent over and, with a dry movement, picked up the jacket from the floor.
The fabric fell with a heavy, damp sound.
He held it for a second between his fingers, assessing it.
Then he shook it out with one hand.
The young man who was still watching him took another step back, unsure whether to offer help or let him be.
The alchemist, however, had already finished inspecting the uniform.
Without wasting time, he retraced his steps.
He walked back to the table at the same speed he had left, crossing the space in a couple of quick strides that made the heads of those nearby turn.
The group's murmur cut off for a moment, confused by the abruptness of the movement.
He reached the chair, stopped precisely, and hung the jacket over the backrest with a naturalness that contrasted with his earlier speed.
The fabric settled slowly.
The movement revealed the marks of his equipment: leather belts, small sheaths for vials and tools, and a row of glass tubes that tinkled softly as they were released from his belt. Some still contained liquids of different shades that vibrated slightly upon contact with the air.
Eilor looked up from the paper and watched him out of the corner of his eye.
"You get used to this quickly," he said, his tone somewhere between curious and casual.
The alchemist shrugged as he adjusted his shirt sleeve.
"It's not my first time. As a first-grade, I've been in similar situations before," he replied naturally, as if talking about the weather.
Eli nodded slightly, still with a small smile.
"Good line."
"Thanks," the alchemist replied. "I use it to impress people."
Eilor let out a discreet laugh, and the rest of the group continued organizing without paying him much attention.
The moment had a peculiar calm: that shared pause where everyone kept moving, but without urgency.
For an instant, the entire hall seemed to synchronize: the footsteps, the crossing voices, the rustle of dry fabrics, the metallic click of a weapon fitting into its sheath.
The echo mixed with loose murmurs, with brief laughter, with the routine beginning to feel familiar.
The alchemist stretched one last time, letting out a deep sigh.
"Right…" he said, giving himself a couple of pats on the shoulders, as if concluding an invisible task.
Then, he noticed the sheet in Eilor's hands.
He frowned slightly and leaned forward.
"Can you read that?" he asked, crossing his arms as he moved a little closer.
Eilor looked up, feigning a confidence that fell apart in the same sentence.
"Of course I ca… I… can?" he murmured, dragging the words as he brought his face closer to the paper, squinting as if that would help.
The alchemist arched an eyebrow, suppressing a smile.
"What happened?" he said, leaning over the table a bit more until the sheet was within his view.
Eilor held it, offering no resistance, and the alchemist tilted his head to see it better.
As soon as his eyes focused on the content, his expression changed completely.
The crooked lines, the scattered symbols, the words crammed into the margins… it was as if every part of the sheet told its own chaotic story.
He let out a sound between a laugh and surprise, a half-snort that broke the group's calm.
"My god… what is this?" he exclaimed, not holding back entirely.
Eli turned her head immediately, and some of those nearby also looked up.
A couple of them leaned in discreetly, trying to look over the alchemist's shoulder.
Eilor pressed his lips together, slowly lowering the paper.
"Notes," he said with almost theatrical seriousness, raising an eyebrow. "Important notes."
The alchemist blinked a couple of times, as if expecting the paper to rearrange itself.
"Important, he says," he repeated quietly, then let out a brief, resigned chuckle.
Eli laughed too, covering her mouth with one hand.
One of the young men in the back commented mockingly:
"Are those notes or a crime scene map?"
Eilor sighed, defeated, but the smile that formed on his face was inevitable.
"You're all very funny," he said, dropping the sheet onto the table.
The alchemist looked at him, incredulous.
"Didn't you have more paper?"
Eilor stretched over the table, grabbed another sheet, and held it up to show the alchemist. The sheet wasn't in much better condition compared to the other one.
Laughter spread around the table.
Even those further away turned their heads for a moment to look at the scene before returning to their tasks.
Eli observed the sheet from where she was, with a slight smile.
"Still… it's your handwriting," Eli commented, tilting her head a little, resting an elbow on the table and pointing at the sheet with a slight gesture. "Even if it's illegible now, at least you should understand most of it… or the minimum, right?"
Eilor grabbed and lifted the pen, scratching his temple with a nervous smile.
"Yeah, well…"
Before he could finish the sentence, a hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched the pen from above.
"Huh?" Eilor exhaled, blinking.
The movement was so fast he barely registered the glint of the metal before feeling the emptiness between his fingers.
The sudden movement made everyone nearby turn at the same time; the air tensed for a second. Even Eli straightened up a little, instinctively.
The owner of the hand—a young man with messy hair and an alert gaze—froze, surprised by the general reaction.
"Hey… easy," he said, raising his other hand in a peace gesture. "I just wanted to see the pen, it looked weird from over there."
Eilor looked at him with a mix of surprise and annoyance before noticing his long blue coat and thus his identity. The young man who had taken the pen while he was sleeping.
Eilor blinked a couple of times, his heart still racing.
"…Warn me next time, you almost gave me a heart attack," he said, intentionally ignoring the situation.
The young man smiled nervously, holding the pen between his fingers. Realizing his intention.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just that…" he turned it a little, observing the gleam of the bronze under the light, "I've never seen a pen with engravings like these."
Eli moved a little closer, curious.
"Engravings?"
Eilor narrowed his eyes, surprised.
"…that wasn't there before."
A brief silence spread as the metal's gleam seemed to intensify slightly, pulsing faintly with the ambient light.
Eilor turned to the alchemist, still watching the strange glow of the bronze.
"So… what's up with this pen?" he asked cautiously, pointing at the object in the owner's hand.
The alchemist, seated with his body slightly tilted, raised an eyebrow slightly.
His reaction wasn't immediate.
First, a fleeting glance at the object; then, a silence that seemed deliberate.
He crossed his arms, exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes.
The entire room held its breath without knowing why.
The background buzz—laughter, footsteps, the scrape of metal—seemed to fade a few degrees, until only the rustle of the paper on the table remained.
Eli glanced at him curiously, and the others exchanged brief looks, waiting for the alchemist to say something.
But he said nothing.
He just maintained that air of someone measuring the exact weight of a response.
Three, maybe four seconds passed. Long enough for someone to cough nervously.
Then, with an almost theatrical calm, the alchemist straightened up.
He coughed softly into his closed fist, cleared his throat, and opened one eye.
"Alchemist's heartblood," he said.
The phrase fell with the same sound a heavy object makes sinking into water.
A dry silence.
And then—
"Huh?" several voices said at once.