The Weight of Legacy

"No."

"But I'll behave!"

"Still no. I'm sorry, but it isn't safe for you to be in here."

Matilda's pouting grew in its intensity, but Anselm gave Hanne a pointed nod. In a smooth motion, she effortlessly pulled his sister up and carried the child past the door, heading further down the hall.

He didn't wait for her return, instead resuming his work. Tipping what was best described as their miniature cauldron over the funnel, he cautiously filled the opalescent phials. It was enough for five doses, all but guaranteeing he could make more attempts when the inevitable happened. The likelihood of unlocking anything on the first try was low to begin with.

Anselm's only hope was that it wouldn't be overly unpleasant.

"I warded the rooms," Hanne said, inching closer. Her hands were behind her back. Anselm squinted in her direction, not having noticed her return. She just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Shaking his head, he handed her the mini cauldron. Having a colleague who could cleanse implements through mana manipulation alone was quite the perk, though he could do without the ubiquitous urge to look over his shoulder. The fact that she'd no doubt claimed to have 'only spiked concoctions once or twice' in jest did nothing to alleviate his nerves. If she didn't wish for him to be suspicious of her playing pranks, then perhaps she shouldn't have said that.

Still, they had worked in tandem for years now, unofficial as their education was. Anselm trusted her to not do anything actively malicious, which was more than he could say even for certain family members. In fact, none of them were aware of the extent to this little… project. They didn't know of Hanne's calling, either.

He usually didn't have the heart to turn the little ones away while they brewed, just limiting their work to simple things when they lingered in the workshop, but today required privacy. Even if everything went according to plan.

"How are the pearls going?"

Hanne let out a long, wistful sigh. "Still haven't caught any, but I know it's just a matter of time."

He arced an eyebrow at her, but made no comment. For all he knew, she might turn out to be right someday. Anselm still didn't know how or where she'd gotten veritable bags of dried venaroot. The root wasn't hard to dig up so much as it was difficult to move without scrutiny if you weren't a healing mage. A pinch was enough to temporarily render someone's very blood almost hyperconductive to mana, excellent for permitting the healing of people without mana channels of their own—but dangerous in most other contexts. Mismanaged, it could unwittingly lower someone's resistances or even open them up to an otherwise endurable attack.

"Ready?" Hanne asked while opening a random drawer and all but tossing the small cauldron in.

Anselm nodded, sitting back on the leather armchair next to the cot Hanne pretended was where she slept every night, while she dragged a work chair closer. He sent all but one of the phials to inventory, eyeing the remaining one as Hanne handed him a second tonic. He'd be a liar to deny the hesitation.