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65 Searing 121
Jacun's Alchemical Goods
Jacun's Alchemical Goods
Transmutation was a thing, but it wasn't the thing that most people outside the realm of alchemy understood. The process for turning lead into gold, for example, was so energy-intensive and the return on one's energy investment was so small, that it was more cost-effective to just buy gold or go panning in a likely looking river. Master Jacun said there were some tricks one could pull—a mask for lead that made things react to it like it was platinum was one he mentioned. But now, Sivan had a task that was not easy, but should be possible even for a novice like him. He would turn iron into steel. This wasn't so wild an idea as his magic mirror, so he trotted around the supply bins to gather what he needed with at least a slim ray of hope that he might nail it on his first attempt. It would be nice to have an easy win for once, though that wasn't really his master's style.
So he put an iron ingot into the crucible and turned on the heat, muttering an incantation to enhance the phase change. Once it was liquid, he sprinkled soot over it. Frowning in concentration, he kept the sprinkle even so it would hopefully absorb equally, the carbon necessary for the transmutation. He wanted pure steel, not some monstrosity that was part iron and part steel and wholly unusable.
When he was satisfied that the ratio of iron to carbon was correct, he turned off the heat and unlocked the mechanism so he could turn the crucible and pour the iron-cum-steel out into the waiting mold. When he did, incanting the reverse to ease the transition back into a solid state, the liquid metal splashed and he yelped as some of it spattered on the floor, burning holes into the old wood. When it was safe to let go of the crucible, he hurried to the safety chest and pulled out four different powders to throw on the smoking spatter on the floor.
"Fuck," he said to himself.
Best wear gloves next time, Exael noted.
"Spirit of wisdom, no shit?"
The damage was done, though. Master Jacun wouldn't care. The workshop was warded against major damage, but he hadn't invested in fine parquet or anything. It was a workshop. So there would be scorch marks and metal on the floor around his workstation, but no real damage had been done. What had made it into the mold didn't look properly like steel, though.
He sighed and went through his calculations again, making several attempts. Nothing else tried to escape and burn the building down, but all he got were lumps of metal that didn't look like steel. Having hit a wall of frustration, he knew he had to set things aside and find a way to deal with his emotions or he would succumb to a black rage. It was just a Dratori thing he had inherited along with his ability to commune with spirits who existed on this plane.
After cleaning everything up, he locked up and left, seeking Torin's place of employment. He was a blacksmith. Perhaps he would have some light to shed on this particular bit of metallurgy meeting magic. It was late enough the forge was closed, so he went and knocked at the side door where he knew someone ought to answer. Perhaps Torin would come out for a drink.
