Marie dragged the still-howling Gideon toward the house, the chemical stench following them like a personal storm cloud. The garden was finally quiet, save for the faint hissing of the evaporating compound.
Jean Alef turned his full attention to Thomas, who was still holding his ledger like a shield. The Archmage's expression was no longer one of disgust, but of sharp, academic curiosity.
"That was... remarkably quick thinking, young man," Jean said, his gaze appraising Thomas. "Your 'failed experiment' was dangerously precise. You said your passion is medicine?"
Thomas visibly swallowed, his bookish, meek persona warring with the sudden, terrifying opportunity. "Y-yes, Lord Archmage. Alchemy. And... and medicine."
I stepped forward, placing my hand on Thomas's shoulder, a gesture of public, sisterly support. "Thomas is brilliant, Mr. Jean. He's the real prodigy in this house. He reads all the old texts and practices every day. He just... hasn't had a proper teacher."
