Chrysopoeia

chrysopoeia - the transmutation of common metals into gold

 

It is a simple science, turning common straw into gold. Not that many would know that, of course. Alchemy is a field not many can grasp. It is an art most consider complex, and truly gifted alchemists can be exceptionally hard to come by. Thus, it seemed only natural that he offer his services to that poor miller’s daughter for an exorbitant fee.

 

Oh, the news had been upsetting, of course. The mere idea that a lowly peasant had inadvertently condemned his daughter to death, now that was simply tragic. But personally, he’d been more amused by the king’s reaction than anything else. “My daughter can spin straw into gold!” Ha! The king had been desperate for a new alchemist, that much was clear, else his lust for gold had fully overtaken his senses. He was foolish to take such a bold claim from a stranger at face value.

​

Once he’d had a moment to get over his initial reactions, however, he’d seen the whole mess for the brilliant opportunity it was. You see, he had been the royal alchemist before there had been an… incident, at the castle. It’s not worth getting into the details, honestly; they are rather dry and uninteresting. The facts of the matter were thus: the king blamed him for it and loudly dismissed him from his service before publicly denouncing him and his personal practice of alchemy.

 

Overnight, the kingdom’s opinion of him soured like curdled milk.  He was scorned, ridiculed, and looked down upon by the masses, among other nasty things. In essence, he was left with no choice but to become a pariah, taking up shop in the woods on the kingdom’s outskirts in order to be left undisturbed.

​

But now… now the king was dipping his hand into alchemy once again, or so he believed. The girl had as much chance of being a properly trained alchemist as he had of being the pope. But perhaps he could fool the king into believing she was one. 

​

After all, it has been previously established that turning common items into gold is, to a man of his talents, quite simple. He would do it for the girl…for a price. 

​

He had nothing against the miller’s daughter. Her necklace and ring were just payment for services rendered. To put it quite plainly, that kind of trade was a steal. His talents were worth much more than a peasant girl’s jewelry, and normally he would have mocked anyone who insulted him with such compensation. However, given that that was all the girl had to offer as payment, and that she was unwittingly part of his scheme, he was willing to overlook such things. After all, she would soon be paying a much higher price. He knew, after all, that the king would never let a gold-spinning girl go, and naturally, he would want his heir to have the same power she does.

​

That was why he named the price he had.

​

“I have nothing left to pay you with,” the girl had cried when he had returned that final night, and he had assuaged her:

​

“There, there, now. No need to fret. I will spin the straw for you one last time, if you promise me your firstborn child with the king.”

​

And the poor girl, foolish in her desperation, had agreed. 

​

The baby fussing behind him in his makeshift cradle shook him out of his thoughts. He shushed the child with as gentle a smile he could muster before he finished penning his letter to the king: 

​

Your Royal Majesty,

It is today you know that I have tricked you. You have married an impostor, for it was never the girl who spun that straw into gold. It was I. 

​

The day you dismissed me from your court is a day that will haunt you ‘til your dying breath. 

​

I was promised your firstborn child as payment for my services. Do not bother seeking him out, for I have already collected him. He lays sleeping behind me as I pen this letter.

​

This, your highness, I guarantee you: you will never find your son. Do not try to locate him, for it will be futile. I will take him on as my apprentice, teach him everything I know. I will shape him in my image, and there is not a thing you can do about it. You will die knowing that you lost your crown prince to the alchemist you disgraced. That will be your legacy.

​

Your Ever Eternal Servant,

R. Stiltskein 

​

With one swift stroke, a grinning R. Stiltskein signed his name. That night, after he delivered his letter, he absconded into the night with the child, and no one in the kingdom ever saw them again.