“Why. In the Goddess’ name. Do you want. A Shaping Potion???”

It’s at least an hour past sunrise and I’m trying to fall asleep when the princess’ yelling jolts me awake. True to her word, Mina had left shortly after the sunrise and taken my request with her, although it seems that she’s only just recently passed it along.

“Well? Answer me!” the princess hisses, and one of her fists pounds a bar of my cell.

“Who says I want a shaping potion?” I shoot back, suppressing a groan. It’s a straight bluff, I’d asked for all the ingredients to make a shaping potion, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Are you kidding me? I may not have been the best alchemy student, but I distinctly remember that sphinx’s tear mixed with deer antler are the active ingredients of a shaping potion,” she insists. “So why. Do you. want it?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Maybe a different tact will work at denying her requests for information but still actually getting me potion ingredients, but she just shakes her head.

“Hm, let’s see,” she pretends to think for a moment, “you’re my prisoner. I captured you after you tried to kill me. Before I give you anything, I need to make sure I won’t die as a result! Does that make sense?” Alright, she does have a point there. Doesn’t mean I have to tell her all my deepest secrets, though.

“Fine,” I huff, turning to stare at the wall, “if you really must know, it’s so I can keep this form.” 

“I don’t understand, can’t you just change between this and the form of a bat at will?” she asks, but I shake my head.

“Not like that. That’s a vampire thing, this is… more personal,” I have to choose my words carefully. “This isn’t my ‘normal’ body, I guess you could say; I’m under the effects of a shaping potion right now.”

“And it’s running out,” the princess concludes. I refuse to look at her face with how hostile she’s been this morning, but there’s a different quality in her voice now. Is it understanding, pity, some combination of those, or something else entirely, I don’t know, but quite frankly I don’t care. “But why is it so important to you? Mina said you’d answer anything if you got this potion. If it’s not to escape in some way, one potion, shaping or otherwise, shouldn’t be so heavy of a bargaining chip. Do you really prefer this body that much?” 

“My ‘normal’ body makes me want to kill myself, so…” I tell her, watching her reaction out of the corner of my eye. It’s hard to see her face, but I can see from how she takes a half-step back that she catches the hidden meaning in what I’ve said. I don’t get the potion, she doesn’t get any information from me. Does she even know I can kill myself in here? Whatever, I doubt she wants to take that risk.

Sure enough, after a few seconds she huffs in resignation.

“Fine. I’ll do my best to get you your potion,” she says, pointing a finger at me. “But I make no guarantees; if I can’t get any of your ingredients, that’s it.” Without waiting for an answer, she turns and stalks off.

“Thanks, I guess,” I say to the now empty hallway. Whatever, fuck her.

“Your Highness, forgive me, but you’re not seriously thinking of giving her a shaping potion?”

“I am, actually.”

The pair are walking through the streets of Furia, the castle at their backs as Madeleine takes them through wide throughways and narrow alleys alike. With the hood of her cloak up, no one pays the Princess any mind and she’s happy to keep it that way, gesturing for Mina to lean in closer and speak more quietly.

“But Princess,” she whispers, “it’s an incredible risk, too great of a risk.” Mina herself is drawing more attention than Madeleine, with her stature and build. This is despite her efforts to blend in, which consist of swapping plate mail for a simple tunic over chainmail.

“Is it, though?” Madeleine persists. “A shaping potion isn’t going to get her past the enchantment on the cell. However she changes her body, she’s still going to be ‘alive’ in some way, and if the cell holds her now, it’ll hold her then. If she turns into a rock or something inanimate, then she can’t exactly do anything. I can’t really see any downsides to giving her what she’s asked for.”

“Perhaps not physically, but have you considered the mental ramifications?”

The Princess leads them through a crowded marketplace and the conversation halts as the surrounding noise level increases, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have an answer. What ‘mental ramifications’? On her? How could someone else taking a shaping potion affect her mind? Or does Mina mean the vampire’s mind? Why would she even care about Valeria’s mental state? Maybe she worries that Madeleine wouldn’t be able to get anything if the potion somehow damages her brain. But a shaping potion shouldn’t affect the user’s mind at all.

“What mental ramifications?” Madeleine asks once they’re through much of the mass of people.

“I’m just saying, you don’t know how she’ll shape herself,” Mina says. “If she shapes herself to look like you, could you handle watching you hurt yourself?” Madeleine doesn’t have a response to that, only striding ahead deep in thought. When she doesn’t get a response, Mina continues. “Furthermore, you said she knows how you feel about me. Could you bear to watch me hurt myself?”

“I… I don’t know,” the Princess whispers. Could she? Could she stand to watch someone that looked like her torture themselves? Even worse, could she watch someone she loved torture herself? Was the information worth that? “This morning, she didn’t say how long the potion would last, did she?”

“No, ma’am.”

Madeleine thinks for a moment before finally deciding.

“Hmm, okay. That’s something we’ll have to ask Miss Rejo when we see her today, then.”

The two walked in silence for a few more minutes before approaching a relatively large two-story building with a pale wooden second floor above a gray stone first. A stone chimney rises up to a sloped roof tiled with blue and weathered green shingles and at its base is an open forge, glowing with heat but rapidly cooling. Madeleine pulls her cloak tighter around herself and moves to the door of the blacksmith. A bell above the door rings when she opens it, and a voice calls out from deeper into the shop.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!”

“That’s no problem, take your time,” the Princess calls back. There’s no one else in the shop besides her, Mina, and the shopkeeper, so she feels comfortable removing her hood and gesturing for Mina to do the same.

“Oh, Princess, my apologies!” he exclaims, lifting his goggles and pulling down his mask to expose his face. “I wasn’t expecting you today, your father’s new hunting blades aren’t quite ready yet.”

“That’s alright,” Madeleine laughs, “I’m not here for those; I’m here on more… personal business.”

“Well, then what can I do for you, Your Highness?” the shopkeeper, a man with soot-stained skin and close-cut grey hair, asks as he leans against a workbench. He pulls a rag from the pocket of his heavy apron and wipes his hands a couple of times before stashing it again.

“I need a set of shackles made, different from those purchased by the crown.” At this, the shopkeeper raises an eyebrow, but nods anyway.

“Aye, I can do that for you,” he says. “Taking over for your uncle the dungeonmaster, are you?” It’s asked as a joke, but Madeleine would have to be blind to miss the legitimate question buried in it.

“No, not at this point,” she answers carefully. “These are more… for study. And I need my father to never find out about them.”

“And what’s so special about these shackles?” the blacksmith asks.

“I need them to be made of a mix of iron and silver. Pure silver,” Madeleine explains. “Your standard shackles, but the outside of the bands, the part that doesn’t contact the wearer’s skin, is made of silver. I can provide suitable payment,” she pulls out a pouch full of gold coins, “and there’s another 20% if this stays between us.”

“Materials will be expensive,” the shopkeeper says, rubbing his chin. “Full set, or just manacles? And what should the chain be composed of?”

“I think iron is fine for the chain?” Madeleine guesses, sharing a glance with Mina. Iron would be stronger than silver, but would they mind letting Valeria grip the chain? The silver on the cuffs should already make her getting out unlikely, but do they want that extra level of security? Would that extra level compromise the strength of the chain? She didn’t know enough about metallurgy to make that comparison. “And yes, a full set would be good, more secure. How soon could you have them made?”

“Hmmmm, two weeks, three tops,” the blacksmith muses. “I can have them done sooner if the castle would provide some of the necessary silver; I bet it’s purer than most of the stuff merchants bring through.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Madeleine smiles, and holds out the coin pouch. The blacksmith takes it, and she pulls her hood back up. “I’ll double that on delivery of the product, and remember; an extra 20% if you keep this from my father or any of his men. And I’ll have someone bring the silver by in the next couple of days.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the blacksmith dips into a slight bow before pocketing the pouch. “I’ll be in touch when the items are ready to be picked up.”

Though the Royal Alchemist’s house/workshop was technically within the walls of the castle, it was also detached from any of the surrounding buildings; a short, squat tower surrounded by gardens of ingredients. The top floor of the tower acted as a greenhouse as well, and that was where Madeleine and Mina found Lady Ariane Rejo, the Royal Alchemist.

“Your Highness!” she exclaims, setting aside a bottle of green liquid and closing a recipe book. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good morning, Lady Rejo,” Madeleine smiles, though it’s already well past noon, “I’m afraid I’m in need of a potion.”

“Certainly! What kind would you like? Athleticism? Beauty? Confidence? All things you have in spades of course, but sometimes everyone needs a little push.”

“No, nothing like that,” Madeleine laughs, examining a nearby plant with red leaves. “Truth be told, I don’t know exactly what the potion does, but I’ve got the recipe here.” She fetches the list of ingredients from her dress and unfolds it, handing it to the alchemist, who takes it and begins looking it over. “I… found this in an old book of my mother’s. The book claimed it was for a shaping potion, and I’m inclined to believe it given the sphinx’s tear, but you would know better than I.”

“Yes, well,” Lady Rejo muses, pulling out a pair of glasses and balancing them on her nose. “This should have the effect of a shaping potion alright, but this isn’t a recipe I’ve seen before. I mean, goat’s blood and bat wings? The usual ingredients in their place are water and heron feathers, so this must be an older recipe. Most alchemists have been using feathers for decades, they’re more sustainable.”

“But it is indeed a shaping potion, yes?” Madeleine presses.

“It should be, yes. Why?” Lady Rejo’s tone hardens instantly as she peers over the rim of her glasses. “Your Highness, you’re not thinking of making this potion yourself, are you?”

“Of course not,” Madeleine says, hand to her chest in mock indignation. “I want you to make it. As soon as possible. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course, but–”

“Wonderful. I’ll let you get to work then.” The Princess turns to leave, but stops just shy of the stairwell. “Oh, and how long should the potion last, with those ingredients in those quantities?”

“About a week?” Rejo guesses after doing the mental math. “Ten days, tops. But Princess, I must caution against you taking this potion, I don’t know what any side effects might be. Especially with an unusual recipe like this, it could be catastrophic for your body.”

“I appreciate your concern, Lady Rejo,” Madeleine answers, “but you needn’t worry; this potion isn’t for me. Good day.”

With that, the Princess disappears through the door into the stairwell, her errands for the day complete. Things had been set in motion, and now she could only hope the vampire would uphold her end of the deal.