David and Niala spent some time explaining the full extent of David's power to the three rattled spectators. Cornelius eventually admitted that maybe the young man was strong enough to protect his daughter, right before muttering something about a muscle brain mooching off her hard work.

  Angeline gave her father a few pats on his shoulder.

  “Dad, you'll just have to accept it. Your Niala is all grown up, and she's found a good man, from what I can tell. It's time to let go.”

  Niala nodded. “That's right! David is amazing! And he looks a bit scary and acts dumb, but he's actually a sweetheart and kind of smart!”

  “Hey-” David exclaimed.

  She didn't let him continue. “So we're going to get married! And I'll be a wife! And then we'll have babies! And then-”

  “Babies?!”

  “Babies?!”

  “Babies!”

  Cornelius/Mahala/Angeline shouted.

  David stared at his girlfriend, thin-lipped.

  Mahala's mouth hung open.

  Angeline's face lit up.

  Cornelius created a new facial expression, born out of despair, horror and disbelief.

  Niala blinked, staring back at everyone, freezing and turning red as her brain caught up with what her mouth had just said.

  Silence fell.

  Angeline dispelled it with a clap of her hands. “Sister! I can't wait to have nieces and nephews!” She turned toward her father, hands clasped over her chest. “Did you hear that, dear father? Grandchildren!”

  Cornelius, wide-eyed, rotated his head toward Angeline. “...Grandchildren?” He repeated.

  His youngest nodded. “That's right! Grandchildren!”

  “...grandchildren... Grandchildren!” Cornelius snapped out of his daze and turned toward his second in command. “Mahala! Come with me!” He instructed, swivelling and departing, his robes billowing behind him, as Mahala followed by reflex.

  Midway, she came to her senses. “Wait, Cornelius? Where are we going?!”

  The catkin swung open the door, shouting over his shoulder. “To amend my will! Call my lawyers and arrange a meeting! I will write up a draft! Niala and Angeline's children will not be omitted by their amazing grandfather!”

  Angeline blinked. “Hey, wait... dad? Wait! What do you mean, my children!?” She called, running after her father.

  David watched them go. He turned toward Niala, who still held her head low. He sighed and walked up to her, stopping one step away and opening his arms.

  She didn't move at first, but eventually shuffled forward, nestling herself into his chest, as he embraced her.

  “I'm sorry. I did it again.” She squeaked out.

  He planted a kiss on her head. “I'm not angry.”

  “I know, because you're a great guy, but I shouldn't be deciding your future like that...”

  He squeezed her tight, resting his head on top of hers. “Kitten...”

  They stood as one for a few moments before David took in a deep breath. “Tonight, let's talk about this. What you see in your future, and what I see in mine. Let's tell each other everything we've been thinking about. Would you like that?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled. “Then, let's do that.”

  He felt her tense up. “But what if... we're not thinking of the same things?”

  “Niala, believe me, I'm pretty sure we have been thinking about the same things. I just felt it was a bit early, and...”

  “And what?”

  “And, I wasn't sure if you were thinking that far ahead, with me, I mean. I'm still afraid I'll let you down, eventually.”

  She gripped his shirt, as if he was about to disappear. “No, not possible. You're the greatest. You'll never let me down.”

  “I'm just human, Niala...”

  She pulled her head up and stared up into his eyes with an intensity that made him flinch.

  “David, I know. I never said you were all-powerful and couldn't fail. I said, You could never let me down, because there's no way I'll ever be disappointed in you.”

  Her words drilled deep into him, and he could do nothing but feel them pierce straight through.

  “Oh,” his mouth said.

  She smiled and snaked a hand up and behind his head, pulling him down toward her.

  Their lips met.

  Something wet dripped down his cheek.

  Angeline and Mahale eventually managed to get Cornelius back under control, while David and Niala went on a stroll through the All Brew garden, letting their emotions cool.

  They reconvened for a light lunch, after which Mahala excused herself and returned to the business side of the compound to oversee its operations, leaving the All Brews and David alone once more.

  Cornelius and Angeline asked David some more questions about his powers and abilities. He told them about how he had many more imbuements on his body that he hadn't yet mastered, and that he had an immense reserve of mana.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Omitting how he had acquired his imbuements and just how “immense” his mana was seemed like a prudent choice. Even if he trusted them, not knowing all of his secrets was a form of protection for them.

  The discussion gradually turned to the couple's life in Riverwall; the renovation of their house, the investigation into the missing people, without mentioning the danger Niala had been in, the Landretti distiller, the weldtree and the fairies, Leandro's training, and so forth.

  They had to physically restrain Cornelius when Niala told of her dealings with Brenson, the catkin wanting to call in favours to have the man and his son declared national menaces and arrested.

  The topic drifted to Niala's alchemy shop, which reminded David of something: his puzzlement at her potion's grading.

  “Have her potions evaluated at the Alchemist Guild? Whatever for?” Cornelius asked.

  David scratched the back of his head. “Hmm. Niala's potions are just... She says they're high-grade according to the guild charts, but if you compare any other high-grade potions to hers, well...”

  Cornelius narrowed his eyes. “High-grade?” He turned to his daughter, “Niala, dear, you've been selling nothing but high-grade potions?”

  Niala steepled her hands and fidgeted. “Well, not just high-grade. I've brewed a lot of common ones too for a supply deal Linzy got me, but yeah, mostly high-grade.”

  “And, you have been restricting yourself to the guild chart, correct?” Her father asked.

  She blinked. “Restricting? Why?”

  Cornelius' eyes widened. “You... how are you self-grading your potions?”

  “Oh! Well, that's easy! I just make sure I meet or exceed the high-grade marks!”

  “Meet or exceed... have you not... limited yourself in any way?”

  She frowned, “What? No! You always told me a master alchemist should strive for excellence under all circumstances!”

  “No, Niala, that means to do your best at the task before you. It doesn't mean to brew nothing but the best potions you can!” Cornelius said, getting up and pacing, one hand in his back, the other gripping his chin.

  After a few cycles, he stopped and looked at his daughter. “Do you have some of your potions with you?”

  She nodded, bringing out her cargo cloth.

  Cornelius nodded. “Good, let's go to my personal lab. I'll grade your potions myself.” He said, turning and departing the room, as everyone got up and followed.

  Her father, ears lopsided, hair dishevelled, stared at her daughter's healing potion, his instruments beeping and wheezing around him as they returned numbers and data.

  Willing his hand steady, he deposited it next to the other twelve phials he had run through.

  He gripped his head with both hands. “Royal-grade, again, just like all the others. This is madness.”

  Niala, sticking close to David, looked at her father. “Is it... Bad?”

  Cornelius spun toward her. “Bad? Oh! No, my dear. These potions are... they could be considered minor national treasures, which you have been selling at guild rates for high-grade potions. This isn't bad, it's catastrophic!” He exploded.

  David furrowed his brow. “Cornelius, it can't be that bad.”

  The catkin pointed at the man. “It is! Royal-grade potions are meant to be brewed for the royal family! Their distribution is restricted!”

  David sighed, “And why is that?”

  “Because they're incredibly difficult to brew! They require the skill of a master alchemist and ingredients of the utmost quality! This makes them limited in number, and... “

  David quirked an eyebrow.

  Cornelius blinked as his neurons connected. “...And my daughter is brewing them by the dozens.”

  David shook his head. “Your daughter has been brewing high-grade potions, remember?”

  “What? No, she hasn't! She's-”

  “But she has, father!” Angeline cut in.

  “Angeline?! Did you not-”

  She rolled her eyes. “Father, Niala has been brewing high-grade potions because who would brew royal-grade ones by the dozen? You just said they're incredibly difficult to make! And, if someone had been brewing royal-grade potions and selling them to everyone, that would invite a host of complications, no?”

  Cornelius slowly nodded.

  His youngest smiled. “Right? So, how very fortunate that Niala has only been brewing high-grade ones of exceptional quality!”

  “...oh! Right! That's right! Ha ha!” He turned to Niala, “How very fortunate indeed! That you've only been making high-grade po-HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” He shouted, charging at his daughter and clamping his hands over her shoulders, staring into her eyes.

  “Doing what?!” She exclaimed.

  “THIS! Nothing but royal-grade potions! How!? Even I, Cornelius the All Brew, can only succeed half the time, taking me a few bells with each attempt!” He began shaking his daughter. “What secrets of alchemy have you uncovered!? I need to know! The knowl-EURK!” He belched out as Angeline grabbed him by the collar and pulled.

  She forcefully dragged him into a chair and patted his cowed head. “There, there, my dear father. I'm sure your Daughter does not need physical compelling to reveal her secrets to you, hmm?” She said, her smile sharp as a knife.

  He stared at Angeline, wide-eyed, nodding after a few seconds.

  David scratched his cheek. “There's something I don't understand. Wouldn't the guild chart have ratings for Royal and Saint-grade potions? Why would Niala's self-grading all fall at high-grade?”

  Niala coughed into her hand. David gave her a glance, prompting her. “The guild chart in the books doesn't go higher than high-grade...”

  David frowned. “Why not?”

  Cornelius sighed, throwing one hand up. “Because high-grade is the highest a common alchemist is expected to achieve. Do you...” He groaned. “Do you have any idea what the most-brewed potion grade is?”

  “Common-grade?” David guessed.

  “It's low-grade,” Cornelius explained. “The vast majority of alchemists are either self-taught or trained by an existing alchemist, before they go take the license test at a guild branch. The test is to brew one common-grade potion out of five attempts, and no more than one failure, or what people call a slop potion.”

  David glanced at Niala, “Really? That seems kind of low.”

  Cornelius scowled. “It is! That's why formally trained alchemists are so much better, being able to brew common-grade reliably, and high-grade with a good margin of success! But it also means that anything above high-grade is not expected to be possible outside of specialized installations run by recognized masters!”

  “Then, that means Niala is...” David said.

  Cornelius puffed his chest, “A genius alchemist, of course! I've taught her everything I know! And she's...” He deflated, “surpassed me.” He whispered.

  “I'm not that good...” Niala argued, blushing.

  David shook his head. “No, I think you are. Look at your father's face.”

  She did as instructed, and flinched.

  Cornelius' face was a battlefield, where the armies of fatherly pride warred with the legions of ego. Neither side was taking prisoners.

  Angeline sighed. “Sister, I do believe you have broken our poor father.”

  David, chin in hand, pondered. “Cornelius?”

  “Huzwat?” The catkin managed to say.

  “There's a grade higher than Royal, isn't there?”

  The catkin reasserted control over his features, focusing on the question rather than his existential crisis. “Ah, huh, yes. Saints-grade.”

  “Can you test for that?” David asked, both sisters snapping their heads toward him as he did.

  Cornelius blinked. “Saints-grade... testing?”

  David dipped his head. “Can you?”

  “I... yes, my personal instruments can go that high, but it's pointless. The exact process for making Saints-grade potion is unknown. A master alchemist might, throughout their career, produce two or three such potions, if at all.” The catkin explained.

  David smiled. “Could you humour me, please? Run the test on Niala's healing potion.” He said, walking up to the table, picking up a potion and handing it to the catkin.

  Cornelius frowned, accepting the potion and getting back to his instruments, all the while throwing dubious glances at David.

  The next day, the Majestic newspapers ran an article on the front page about one of the city's preeminent citizens. Newspaper sellers summarized it thus:

  “FAMOUS ALCHEMIST SEEN RUNNING THROUGH THE STREETS HAVING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN, SHOUTING HIS LIFE HAD BEEN A LIE, JUMPS OFF THE SOUTHERN BELL TOWER! WITNESS REPORT A BLUE COMET INTERCEPTING THE CRAZED CATKIN MID-FALL, SAVING HIS LIFE! FULL STORY ON PAGE TWO!”

  Most publications sold out within two bells.