Picking the bottle out of the water and uncorking it, the violently herbal smell of the primordial fluid assaulted her nostrils. Its vapors briefly obscured her vision before she pressed the bottle to her lips and took a swig, then sealed it shut.

Even now, the brunt of it tasted like nothing more than a vaguely herbal essence, but there was something new in the aroma. Something new, yet distinctly familiar.

“Viriditas. What’s it taste like?” Zel asked, absent-mindedly admiring the designs of the seals as she basked in the warmth of this impromptu embrace.

“Mint, lemon balm, sometimes thyme...” Zef trailed off, resting her head on the small area of her back that had neither gashes nor stab wounds. “Also you.”

“Me?” she chuckled, blindsided by that answer. “In which way?”

“Both of ‘em. Depends on my mood.”

Pages upon pages of philosophizing on the nature of Azoth, of alchemy, of the Fog itself - Aether by its alchemic name - filled the journal, interspersed with nuggets of real meaning, as if the journal was written all in one go as a stream of consciousness. Makhus was just about ready to believe that when he reached the fifth page of seemingly meaningless philosophy in a row, only to be hit in the head like an anvil by a simple, apparently meaningless paragraph.

If this experiment turns out successful, I believe my theoretical homunculus will be capable of Fog-breathing from the moment it comes out of the tank. I have purchased a piece of land in the southern swamplands, and should everything go to plan, I will be able to begin the growth process within the month. I only hope the tissue and blood samples I have obtained truly do belong to members of the great heroic families.

Despite its potentially revolutionary nature, my method of growing a fully-functional homunculus will not differ from the traditional method in base execution. I will, however, require a colossal quantity of pure Viriditas to fuel the process and a truly grand support mechanism to ensure at least one embryo is grown to the full extent, even if it means the premature termination of other embryos.

The next page had a date several months after the previous. He thought it must be missing pages, but it didn’t seem to be so.

It appears my research has attracted the attention of the Sage himself! He just showed up at my doorstep yesterday with one of those gaudy gift-baskets he’s known to be so fond of. I was more than happy to play the host, but he just handed over the basket and left!

There was a glyph-sealed letter buried amidst the confectionery, containing a set of coordinates I think are located within the southern territories and an instruction to burn the letter atop a marble slab that I am to find at the location.

I suspect I may have just been offered a research facility.

The more he read, the more he felt the need to cross-reference the journal’s contents with the alchemist’s other notes.