Chapter Three

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Richard

“What does the data say? The numbers tell the story better than we can.”

Richard gave a gentle smile to the small gathering of young people who were staring at him with looks ranging from concerned to confused.

“Inconclusive,” Rowland, a final year student said.

“Inconclusive… as of this moment,” Richard corrected.

“There is no noticeable effect on the subject.”

“Again, not as of yet. After data, patience is our strongest ally. We mustn’t forget optimism as well,” Richard said. He was standing at the back of the herbalism laboratory, speaking to a small gathering of students. To his side were half a dozen wire cages, each one housing a small animal with gray fur and exaggeratedly large ears. Sunlight entered the room through multiple rows of windows, the yellow light reaching just short of the cages, a point which Richard had insisted on. The animals were not pets, but the heat of an Oslidorian afternoon was oppressive, and he would not countenance unnecessary suffering.

He leaned over to take a closer look at the subject. The animal truly did appear unaltered. He also knew the data showed nothing. Nevertheless, he had no lack of patience or optimism. Not anymore. Not after the dramatic success of the past season.

He stood up, and wiped his palms, the grin he had worn for the majority of the past week plastered to his face. “We shall check again next week,” he said. “In the meantime-”

Who? Someone was standing in the doorway, a woman he had never seen before. The air she gave off was one of cold contemplation and supreme confidence. How long has she been there? The enthusiasm which had carried him through the day had blocked his sense of time, and he had no feel for how long he had been speaking, or the possible duration of the stranger’s presence at the entrance of the laboratory. He shook his head and turned his attention back to his students. “In the meantime, you have reading to complete. I will be available tomorrow afternoon if you require my assistance. You are dismissed.”

As his pupils exited, Richard felt unease rush through his body. The woman did not move as the students shifted themselves to slide past her. Her eyes had been surveying the equipment, the animals, the windows… now they were firmly locked on him. She looked him up and down. Her expression unchanged, she stepped forward.

“I am here on behalf of his Excellency, the Divine King, Oslian Vinredor,” the woman stated.

Richard swallowed. They know? Impossible…

“Now that you are aware of who you have arrogantly made wait, what say you?”

“I… apologize,” Richard tried.

“Yes. I see your regret. Understandable. Is this the only location you have where we can speak?”

“My office. Follow me. Please.”
The walk through the hallways to the atrium was torturous. Richard’s mind raced at the possibilities of this encounter. Whatever the directions his thoughts took, they returned to one likelihood; his discovery had been compromised. It would be taken away from him. He had full confidence that the tonic was ready, but he wanted it revealed and applied on his terms. He knew the implications which would be drawn from what he had created, and the revolution it could spark in his field.

A tonic which gifted the imbiber a boon for not just a few tolls of the bell, but for a lifetime. As a singular entity, it would be a wonder. As a concept, the revelation that herbalism could give lasting enhancements, it was perhaps the world’s greatest hope.

Had he delayed sharing the information because of pride? Was that an inherited curse? No. Grandfather was a man of action. I am not. Do I shame his legacy?

Opening the door to his office, he wondered whether the last few weeks had been a dream. The euphoria that had accompanied him now felt completely foreign, as though it had never been a part of his life, the joy and pride of his discovery erased and viciously replaced with dread.

The instant that the door opened, the woman stepped passed him and into the office. She moved directly to the end of the room and seated herself behind Richard’s desk, taking his chair. He was left to sit on a stool, which he only did after sensing that he had been granted permission.

“You are Richard Dosple. You are the head of the university’s department of herbalism.” Delivered as statements of fact.

“I am.”

“My name is Councilor Yara. I speak with the Divine King’s voice in matters of the state. Do you realize the burden that maintaining this department places on the nation?” A pause for breath. “My estimation is that you do not, or else you would have adjusted your expenses, or your output. I have not spoken with the university head yet, but she will be hearing from me promptly. My analysis of her wastefulness is increasing with every conversation with department leads that I have. Professor Dosple, the Divine King graciously founded this university nearly thirty years past. Evidently, that act of generosity was interpreted as an act of charity. This university, and this department in particular, are not but a drain on the finances of The Crown. Having said that, I am open to being persuaded that your department should continue to receive funding. What say you?”

Richard felt as though the air in his lungs had left him. He was woefully unprepared for the monologue delivered by this royal official. His tonic was seemingly safe for the moment, but his career and, in fact his life, were under assault, the accusations and insults blindsiding him completely. Yet what could he say? The university’s achievements in the field of herbalism were as those of a child’s when compared to the body of work of the royal family’s master herbalist, Esther.

“The value of educating future generations of herbalists is difficult to judge in the present,” he said, hopeful that his words sounded as though he believed them as badly as he wanted to.

Yara’s eyes seemed to shift, becoming sharper. “I heard the speech you delivered to your pupils,” she said. “The data. What story does it tell us?”

“We have done important work in regards to improving the nutrition derived from Esther’s tonics. Even you would admit the job of feeding the people of the nation has been made easier by our labor.”

“I asked for data. Numbers, professor.”

“A twenty-percentage point increase in the vitamins released.”

“As that is the first accomplishment you have mentioned, I will assume it is your department’s greatest. There are individual herbalists throughout the world who have achieved more than your entire department has, and in less time.”

“There are projects in various stages of development. We do not publish our findings until we have completed our experiments and have had our findings reviewed by others.”

“Is there a tonic your department has been developing which would make me change my mind?”

“As I said, our research will be published when it has been completed and reviewed. These advancements take time.”

“You are quite skilled in the art of giving excuses, professor. Were that you were more skilled in the art of herbalism.”

With each barb she shot at him, he could see in her eyes the satisfaction that lowering another’s perception of himself gave her. She had been enjoying her time at the university, making unrealistic demands and foisting an outsider’s ignorant perspective on an educational institution.

“I will let the Divine King know what I have learned here,” she said. “He will not be pleased, I assure you.”

“Is the Divine King planning changes for us?”

“Oh yes, I do believe so. Significant changes. Permanent changes.”

“Such as?”

“The Divine King does not present his plans until he is ready,” she said with a smirk. “Now, if you have no other excuses, I will be on my way. There are still many of your self-absorbed colleagues with whom I must speak.”

A final opportunity to save the department still clung to life. All that was required was the revealing of his grand work. The price would be, he well knew, a permanent transfer of ownership of what he had worked so long to create, of what would place his name among the deities of the field.

He said nothing. Pride, Grandfather. It shames me.

Now the smile which had adorned his face belonged to another. And she made sure it was recognized as she brushed by him on her way out of the office.