Chapter 38 - The Farm in Irttat
Chapter 38: Visitor from the Royal Capital 04
After paying over five hundred silver coins, Lucita finally obtained the precision balance and set of laboratory equipment she had long desired.
She temporarily placed these on the large cabinet in the hallway, planning to move them all to the study once it was built.
That very night, Lucita began her first magic potion experiment.
"The Complete Guide to Magic Potion Preparation" gave the simplest formula for beginner apprentices—a nutritional potion that could significantly restore physical strength and strengthen the body. Usually used on people just recovering from long illnesses, the recovery speed would visibly accelerate.
Of course, she also chose this formula to experiment with because the materials needed were simple and easily obtained.
Things like fragrant orchid stamens, black false hellebore juice, and hollow thistle powder were all the most common materials, all available in her humble little medicine garden.
Stamens could be directly collected. Black false hellebore juice was slightly more troublesome, cut the thick leaves of black false hellebore, put them in a mortar to crush, and filter out the pale green juice. Hollow thistle required one more step,put the ground hollow thistle paste in a crucible over an oil lamp to burn. After burning into a solid block, grind it with the mortar again.
The prepared materials were weighed to the formula's amount using the new balance, put into a beaker containing half a cup of milk, and after boiling became a light purple viscous liquid. One nutritional potion was successfully prepared.
Among these, the most important component for supplementing bodily functions was black false hellebore. The book described that this common magic herb living by water was very magical, eating it alone had no effect, but paired with hollow thistle it would produce large amounts of energy, helping the body rapidly self-repair…
It was said that successful nutritional potions were light purple, glossy, viscous fluids with a slightly sour smell that tasted sweet and sour when drunk.
Lucita shook the beaker, very satisfied with her results. She felt this quality didn't look like a failed product at all. She originally wanted to taste it, but remembering she couldn't taste anything now, she had to set it aside for later verification.
She sealed the nutritional potion in test tubes, filling two tubes total and inserting them in the test tube rack.
The last day of the festival had Linnea's performance. Lucita absolutely had to go support her child.
It was said that after the festival ended tonight there would also be an open-air ball. Lucita fittingly put on her most respectable brown riding outfit from when she first arrived. Violet and Linnea also changed into new clothes. The whole family went out neat and tidy.
The final day’s celebration made the square even livelier than before. Everyone wore brightly colored new clothes. Even the usually unkempt neighbors looked much tidier.
What was surprising was mill owner Aurora's attire.
She wore a deep green halter dress. This dress was outstanding both in fabric and workmanship. The swaying skirt hem was light and smooth as flowing water, displaying soft luster among the plain cotton.
Such green was also very rare—rich but not dark, very eye-catching in the crowd, like a gleaming emerald.
Lucita looked at her somewhat surprised and murmured to herself: "Silk?"
"Yes, that's silk. A formal dress left to her by her mother. The fabric is human craftsmanship. Such fabric is very suitable for summer. You can't find more than a few pieces in all of Irttat." Durani came beside her and interjected.
Lucita turned her head to look at her questioningly.
Durani met her eyes and added: "Her mother was the previous mayor. She loved showing off since childhood. Everyone's used to it."
But Lucita's focus wasn't there. Remembering Aurora's mocking attitude toward Javena, she realized: "So she... doesn't get along with Aunt Javena?"
Durani shrugged: "The two of them haven't gotten along since childhood. In the election when Javena was elected, she lost to Javena. After that, even their surface politeness seemed gone."
"Lucita! Haven't seen you wear this outfit in a long time. Very characteristic of the human world." Javena's laughing voice suddenly interrupted.
Turning back, Lucita saw Javena and Anastasia walking toward them together, smiling.
Lucita and Durani exchanged a quick glance and fell silent like guilty conspirators.
Like Mavis, Anastasia had also moved here from the human world.
This surgeon was born into privilege. She was a friend Javena met during her travels in earlier years. A few years ago, unable to bear the clamor of war, she accepted Javena's invitation and came to Irttat.
Stasia was a blonde woman with a very distant temperament, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Under the glasses, her emerald eyes seemed covered with a layer of thin mist.
She dressed very meticulously. Even in the summer heat, she didn't expose her arms and calves like the townspeople. The creases of her shirt and pants were neatly folded. She even wore a top hat and held a silver-mounted cane in her right hand.
Durani subtly tugged her slightly rumpled shirt straight and whispered to Lucita uncomfortably: "Every time I see her I feel like my clothes are indecent. Tsk, the 'upper class' of the human world… obsessed with appearances."
Lucita laughed softly.
This Doctor Stasia didn't seem to socialize much with people. She kept to herself in town. Lucita had been here over three months and hadn't run into her.
After exchanging greetings, they chatted casually.
Durani was always well-informed. At this time she brought up Palmer: "When she arrived this time, there was someone else in the carriage behind her. Seems to be a wandering bard who heard rumors about Irttat and specially came to gather inspiration and tour."
Javena was somewhat worried: "There have been more and more outsiders these past few years. Haven't the wars outside stopped yet?"
Stasia knew this kind of thing best: "After jointly swallowing Eaton, the war between the Spring Kingdom and Kenting Kingdom, having eaten their fill of benefits, is a long tug-of-war that won't stop for a while."
Durani wasn't interested in these "big matters" and turned her head to look at the high platform: "That wandering bard seems to have joined in the fun and gone up to sing."
Everyone looked in the direction of her gaze.
Since Lucita’s vision had once been lost and regained, it had become sharper than before. She could see farther and in greater detail.
That was a woman who looked very casual. A dark red hood hung behind her head, showing traces of weathering.
She wore an old-fashioned robe. The fabric was ample, layers of folds piling around her body, hanging naturally.
Her blonde hair was somewhat withered, hanging messily at her shoulders, flowing down strand by strand along the robe's folds.
Her dark green eyes were narrow in shape. At this moment, her eyelids hung naturally as if covered with a layer of hazy mist, looking somewhat languid.
Her lips were slightly pale, looking somewhat dry with deep lip lines.
Her features were well-defined, her wheat-toned skin bearing the marks of long travel. Though her expression carried a trace of fatigue, there was a wild, arresting beauty about her.
The woman held her old viol, her bony fingers plucking once, producing a "zing—" sound.
This sound—one could tell she was a skilled player of many years.
Lucita listened with interest—since her arrival, Irttat had never seen this kind of instrument.
The viol originated in the human world, but at first, those respectable musicians looked down on it.
Later, due to its portability and excellent range, it became the top choice for the vast majority of wandering bards.
In the prosperous prehistoric era, a viol was almost standard equipment for wandering bards. They traveled through mountains and rivers, passing through kingdoms and towns, spreading the viol's music throughout the entire world.
And the post-disaster human world, due to civilization's regression and resource competition, people were much poorer and security was very poor. Even basic needs could hardly be met. Almost no one was willing to spend money listening to roadside poets play anymore. The tradition of wandering bards gradually faded.
The erudite townspeople were interested in the rare viol. Those unaware of the circumstances were also curious about the instrument they'd never seen.
The noise in the square softened.
Amid the low buzzing sounds, Lucita's recovered hearing keenly caught a few low, hoarse syllables: "Kel... sey..."
She looked toward the voice. It was Anastasia.
Anastasia looked at the stage. Her usually impassive expression seemed to crack open, revealing a trace of drowning-like bewilderment, trembling all over in a way that wasn't obvious.
This time, Lucita heard clearly, a trembling breath that overflowed from her throat: "Kelsey."
Stasia's heart kept buzzing. Tidal waves of intense emotion pinned her in place.
At their last meeting thirteen years ago, Kelsey was still an elegantly mannered, graceful youth. The roughest thing she'd done was probably accompanying her in horse races on the plains.
But now—
Stasia's throat seemed blocked by something. She trembled for a long time but couldn't utter another word.
On stage, Kelsey's gaze seemed to fall on Stasia.
Her right hand suddenly gathered the strings, stopping the prelude that had already begun spilling out.
After pondering for several seconds, amid the audience's somewhat puzzled murmuring, she adjusted the instrument body, faced the audience sideways, and said: "I'll switch to a more fitting tune."
A string of low, gentle, meandering notes poured forth.
This song had a comical, childish name: "The Wind Chimes in the Backyard Are Laughing." It used to be a lullaby passed down by word of mouth in the Eaton royal capital, sending blessings of happiness and peace to every child.
Everyone had once fallen asleep listening to their mother sing this song, then sang it to their own children when they grew up.
And the first time Stasia learned this tune was on that afternoon full of climbing roses when Kelsey held her in her arms, wiped away her tears like soothing a baby, and sang this blessing song for her in a low voice.
She had said seriously in a voice that was still clear then: "Anna, let's make up."
How had she answered at the time?
Stasia couldn't remember clearly. She only remembered sunlight falling through the shade of trees onto Kelsey's face in mottled shadows, making even her expression blur in the light and shadow, leaving only a trace of subtle gentleness.
That face, suspended between light and shadow, had remained in her memory ever since, like her earliest impression of the mortal world.
"Let's make up," Stasia looked up at the travel-worn woman on stage and said silently: "Your Highness."
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