Bastion 2 - Chapter 14

My heart thudded injustice in my chest. I hadn’t stolen anything. I had only looked!

Sung-ki went on, “That was how I wanted to deal with the situation, but the Grandmaster felt differently. The offender will be confronted, scolded, and returned on their way with a strike on their record.

“In addition to that minor slap on the wrist”—he laughed with disgust—“we will be locking the classroom every day, much how the ma antiques room is locked. You will not be able to access the lab after hours without explicit permission from me.”

I glanced around to see the other students looking at one another with confusion and suspicion. Shin-soo caught my gaze and held it for a second that seemed to stretch into eternity. He didn’t look his typical angry, or arrogant, but he was perturbed. There was fear etched into the lines of his forehead. His eyes flickered toward Ko-nah, then he averted his gaze.

Ko-nah adjusted his posture, shrinking in his seat as I looked down at him. He shrugged with a face that feigned innocence. He knew something he wasn’t telling me. Shin-soo did too.

“I’ve got it!” Mae’s excited voice blasted over my thoughts and I nearly jumped off my stool.

‘Got what?’ I asked as I calmed my racing heart. I turned my attention back to the front of the room where Sung-ki droned on about the consequences of stealing from Bastion.

“I opened enough space to start more critical analysis of your mother’s data,” she said with glee, then her tone dampened as she added, “But I can only focus on either fixing the rest of the device, or processing the data. And I won’t be available to monitor your surroundings while I’m processing the data, it’s too complex to lose focus on distractions.”

‘I leave it up to you, but would prefer to have your eyes and ears on the lookout while I’m sleeping.’

“I’ll start working on the data now,” Mae said with plucky enthusiasm. She was really enjoying herself. I was happy she had something to be excited about.

Sung-ki moved to the first shelf next to him and plucked a few leaves from the nearest plant. “Today we will be learning the importance of preparation. Some substances are toxic when raw, others become corrosive when they’re turned into extract, and some still can be made into powerful battlefield aids when powdered.”

He held up the green leaf with fat purple freckles for us to see. “This is Sayuki Basil. Delicious when raw in soups and fried rice. It’s known to have mental wellness benefits, increased clarity, and calmness. However, when the leaves are dried and burned, the smoke can induce hallucinations, sometimes permanent psychosis.”

He popped the leaf in his mouth and chewed. “So, you can see why after several incidents of these plants going missing—and others—why we will be locking the room. This is the last I want to hear on this matter. Let us begin today’s lesson.

“Extracts are an essential preparation process. You can’t always know what potion you will need on the battlefield. You must bring a host of raw ingredients with you, and mix in the heat of combat. You must be poised, skillful, focused, and accurate. One misstep could be your death, or the death of your allies.”

He retrieved a dolly from the back that was loaded down with equipment. Seven tall, glass vials were held upright in a wooden construct designed to prevent vibrations from jostling the tubes. Sung-ki walked the rows, passing out the trays of vials.

“Extracts allow you to compact the essential munje in a plant or animal required for crafting your positions. You can then heat them until they’re ash, chill them to sub-zero temperatures, or agitate them into action.

“Extracts is how you will build your foundational knowledge for all potion making,” he placed a tray on my desk.

“Mr. Law, do you know anything about potion making?” he asked with a smirk.

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t some li munje dunce… but then he would make me create something. I could end up like one of those yearly incidents—one of the bad ones.

I shook my head with embarrassed heat in my cheeks. “No, master.”

His smirk changed to something more respectful, and he nodded. “Make sure, then, you pay close attention to this lesson. No one here has mixed extracts like we will in this class, save for me.”

It was a trick! He wanted to see if I’d be truthful. And I had. His smile wasn’t one of gloating glory, but acknowledgement of my morals.

Sung-ki moved on, until he made his way back to the front. He took to his dais with his own vials. “I will be leading you through these exercises by example. Theory will not do in Alchemy. You must be precise—measured—all things accounted for. Li Alchemy is all about controlling your environment.” He spoke the words with reverence.

“You’ve learned in primary to create slurries, less refined and therefore less potent. Extracts is all we use on the battlefield. Measurements are memorized by all combatants, so anyone on the field can craft a cure, or an aid. Extracts are compact, a little goes a long way toward saving lives.”

“This is not easy to accomplish, but I know you are all up to the challenge. Do not fail me,” he said with warning, and I feared what the consequence of failure was? He didn’t let on, and I was too nervous to ask. I would just have to succeed.

We spent the entire duration extracting the essence of seven plants; sayuki basil, maggot-rot mold, purila’s tail, lychii seed, yellow juniper, poh-pah berry, and witch-weed. I struggled, trying to hide my failure, but Sung-ki noticed.

“Troubles?” he asked with a helpful tone.

I furrowed my brow. “Some, yes. I’ve never been good with li flow.”

He put a hand to his chin. “You mean to say, your li flow has been an issue at all times, not just in my class?”

The eyes of neighboring students looked to me and my cheeks reddened. “Yes, master.”

“Why haven’t you said something?” he asked with concern.

I did not want to keep answering truthfully, for the truth was so, so embarrassing… but I knew if I didn’t, I would lose what little respect I’d gained from Sung-ki. Bastion was also about making connections—create a network that could help me move my family into the city.

“I was worried you would make me feel like a fool for having li flow issues,” I said with a wince. Hushed murmurs bubbled up around me, some of them jeering.

Sung-ki pulled down a deep breath. “Look at me.”

My face felt like it was on fire. My flushed cheeks must’ve been visible from outer-city, but I met his gaze.

He didn’t break eye contact as he spoke. “I will never turn away an honest, eager learner. Speak the truth with me, and I will reveal the wonders of the li munje around you.” He turned and looked to the rest of the class. “That goes for every last one of you. No lies in this room. Lies create errors.”

He turned to a girl two seats up. “Ms. Zho, what happens if you lie, putting the maggot-rot mold label on the witch-weed vial?”

The short, round faced girl shrugged. “I don’t know.”

His voice was stern and he projected for the whole class to hear. “I could misuse those extracts on the battlefield. Extracts are stored in insulated, reflective vials to protect them from the elements. You cannot see the color of the extract, or the viscosity. You cannot see it until you begin to use it, and by then it could be too late. The fumes from one extract could come into contact with another and you could create an explosion that rips off half of your face.”

The room gasped collectively.

Sung-ki nodded. “I’ve seen it happen. Labeling is important. Lying will cause death.

“Now, let’s get back to it,” he said as he returned to me.

Sung-ki guided me through the process of unblocking my li munje by visualizing the vibrance of life in the plant I held. I was to imagine its smell, taste, or color with clarity, until I knew the plant from the inside out.

And just like that—my li was flowing freely.

I didn’t feel embarrassed as other students in the class experienced their own struggles and needed help. Sung-ki attended to every one of them, answering questions and helping them visualize the munje they were looking for, until they were successful.

Even when Ko-nah whined and complained, Sung-ki told him he’d need to suck it up and try another option, because failure wouldn’t be accepted. He pushed, but he was there by his side the whole time, making sure it got done right. Maybe that’s all I had to do for Ko-nah. Be more relentless.

Sung-ki made his rounds until everyone was working away at their assignment with ease. He returned to his podium looking satisfied. Perhaps his only true love lay in the teaching of Li Alchemy. If he’d just loved potion-making, he would’ve got a job at an apothecary, or hospital.

But he’d chosen Bastion. No. His passion was clearly for teaching new generations how to accomplish these wondrous feats.

A spark of hope warmed my chest. I had thought Sung-ki hated me because I was from outer-city. Sure, he had a bit of a prejudice since he assumed I’d lie straight out of the gate—

“You did lie the first time you spoke to him,” Mae reminded me.

I rolled my eyes. ‘You can pipe down. I was having a fleeting feeling of true wonder to receive respect from a man I thought hated my guts for no reason.’

“You can still have it, just remember that you earned his distrust first.”

‘Thank you, I remember now.’

En Manipulation II came before I knew it, and I was moving rocks within a few minutes. After all the practice with water the previous year, rocks were a breeze. The principles behind moving the elements were the same from water to earth, which was as surprising to me as it was the other students—except Yuri. By the end of class, she had her stones piled up in a huge construct that looked like the greatest structure of Busa-nan; Insig Palace.

By lunch, I could see the entire group was worn-thin from Ko-nah’s relentless complaining. I didn’t share all his classes but knew Cho would frequently offer to help. It seemed that was wearing on him worse today with the news of the alchemy lab being closed off.

I wondered if Ko-nah was trying to force the secrets from us by annoying us, as if I would grow tired of him and say anything to send him away. The joke was on him; there was no secret. Only more work.