A Novel
The Alchemist of Goreau — Chapter 4
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The Alchemist of Goreau is a fantasy novel set in late 1800’s in a mountainous Central European country with magic, incredible and unbelievable situations, and a healthy dose of humor. The story follows Donwillo, a mid-twenties alchemist struggling to make a name for himself in the world. When the world starts to crumble, he’s the most likely suspect. Follow his journey as he seeks to clear his name.
Are you ready to join Donwillo on a fantastical journey?
Chapter 4 — Introducing Mr. Holloway!
The Absolutum was gearing up for a game of Pressure Hat with his financial advisor Mr. Holloway in the decadent palace located in central Schlussen, where it sat proudly upon the highest peak.
The granite castle with sky-scraping spires was reachable in three ways. By gondola, by the long trek up a winding, treacherous path, and by the cannon-based wizard flight, though nobody except the insane ever traveled that way.
The Absolutum was the ruler of all Schlussen. Anything the Absolutum declared was law, and any law he made was carried out without question.
The people of Schlussen had long ago agreed upon this system of government. No other populace hated arguing quite as much as Schlussens. Political discourse was akin to rubbing chalkboards on chalkboards to their ears. Having a ruler with complete power eliminated political discourse, for better or worse. And sometimes things were bad. But at least when things were bad, nobody went around debating how things could be better. They knew that was impossible.
Sometimes, the Absolutum made excellent decisions, and that’s when the system really shined — the Schlussen people did not have to hear a million politicians vying for credit.
There was no accountability for the Absolutum outside of his advisors, and his advisors were encouraged not to question him. Most, being good Schlussens themselves, we’re fine with this, as the position paid well. But a few, like Mr. Holloway, his financial advisor, had learned he could get the Absolutum to do what he wanted by clever means of self-humiliation, such as playing the game Pressure Hat.
Mr. Holloway loathed Pressure Hat. It was the worst game ever invented, he thought.
The rules were fairly simple. Two players stood in circles 15 feet apart. Each wore a large brimmed hat that was carefully fit to their head just above their eyebrows.
Outside the ring were the supporting players called broomers.
Broomers used broomsticks to keep the player’s hat from falling over their eyes while the opponent tossed bags and tried to land them on the brim of the hat.
The broomers could not enter the circle, and the players could not exit the circle.
Broomers could use their broomsticks however they saw fit. They could correct a tilting hat by lifting it with the end of the broomstick or even jab the player in the back to correct bad posture.
If enough bags landed on a player’s hat, eventually, the hat would fall over the player’s eyes. That counted as one point for their opponent. Whoever scored 50 points first won.
Mr. Holloway only played the game when he wanted something from the Absolutum.
“Ahh, politics,” he thought, standing in his circle, surrounded by browned, while wearing a 30-gallon hat.
The broomers took up their positions, readying their broomsticks like they were in a sword duel.
“Don’t go easy on me,” said the Absolutum.
“I am incapable of that,” replied Mr. Holloway.
Mr. Holloway put on his most charming smile, one that would cause him to purge his lunch later. It was so warm, so authentic, only a fool would fall for it. He felt this was the right occasion to be obscenely gregarious.
The game went back and forth, allowing Mr. Holloway the chance to toss his own ideas at the Absolutum.
Mr. Holloway’s first throw landed on the brim of the Absolutum’s hat, whose boomer steadied it.
“These guys the best,” said the Absolutum.
“Know what else is the best?” asked Mr. Holloway, dodging a high arcing heave.
The Absolutum started to answer, but Mr. Holloway cut him off.
“Your kingdom.”
“Why did you wink at me?” asked the Absolutum, annoyed.
“Did I wink, sir?” asked Mr. Holloway, landing a bag directly on top of the Absolutum’s hat.
“I’ve seen a lot of kingdoms,” said Mr. Holloway. “And yours is definitely, without a doubt, one of them. In fact, it’s nearly perfect,” said Mr. Holloway.
“Nearly?” asked the Absolutum, beaming Mr. Holloway in the face. It seemed intentional.
“The vault could use some improvement.”
The Absolutum reached into his high boots and pulled out some non-regulation bags.
Mr. Holloway pretended not to notice as several of his broomers were knocked out cold by the barrage. It was considered improper to acknowledge broomer injuries.
“What’s wrong with the vault?” asked the Absolutum.
“It’s a bit low.”
“How is it low?” asked the Absolutum.
“Oh, you know,” said Mr. Holloway.
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”
Mr. Holloway concealed his annoyance.
“The nature of vaults is that, on occasion, they get low.”
“First I’ve heard of that,” said the Absolutum. “I thought vaults grew. You put stuff in them, they grow.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” said Mr. Holloway. “But don’t worry. I have it all sorted. I’ve located a vast and untapped source of gold and silver laying about your kingdom.”
“Is that so?” asked the Absolutum skeptically.
The Absolutum lobbed another illegal volley. You were supposed to toss one bag at a time. The Absolutum rained bags down upon Mr. Holloway.
The broomers kept his hat on by jabbing brooms here and there.
“Yes, it’s just there waiting to be seized.”
The Absolutum issued a time-out. The broomers stood by at the ready.
“For too long, the Schlussen people have been burdened with hauling around their cumbersome gold and silver. Gold and silver are heavy. Their poor arms! They shouldn’t be subject to such physical stress just to buy cheese.”
“Get to the point,” said the Absolutum.
“I propose a new currency! Made of paper! We’ll call it Grunbuckers, and any citizen could easily carry it around without exerting themselves. It’ll be a literal weight off their shoulders.”
The Absolutum thought about this.
“No,” he finally said.
“Or maybe,” said Mr. Holloway, “maybe yes?”
“Hmm,” thought the Absolutum. “Fair point. But why?”
“It’s simple. We collect the people’s gold and silver and use it to refill the vaults.”
“Ahh,” said the Absolutum, finally getting it. “I finally get it,” he said.
“How do we get them to give us their gold and silver?”
“Don’t worry about the details. Just say the word, and it’ll be done.”
The two resumed the game of Pressure Hat.
Mr. Holloway sent a few bags wide right. His own hat had seven or eight bags on it and was dangerously close to slipping over his head.
“So, is that a yes?” asked Mr. Holloway.
“This won’t make me unpopular, will it?”
“It hardly matters, sir. Besides, popularity is totally immeasurable. It’s like trying to collect footprints in the sand.”
“That’s a weird and somewhat beautiful analogy,” said the Absolutum.
Mr. Holloway donned the most fabulous version of his charming grin.
It made him sick to his stomach.
The Absolutum had more tricks up his sleeve. He produced a slingshot, loaded a bag, and fired it high into the air.
It missed.
“I have the perfect city to roll out the plan. It’s a place called Goreau. Word has it the people are flush with gold and silver — enough to fill your vault and more. Having a full vault will be very useful for trade.
The Absolutum had added a new rule to the rule book this morning and used it now. The rule allowed a broomer to step in and throw a bag. The broomer did his job perfectly. The bag landed on Mr. Holloway’s hat, causing it to engulf his face completely.
Mr. Holloway’s muffled voice came from underneath the black brim. “So, what do you say?”
The Absolutum was celebrating with his team.
Mr. Holloway hung his head, a sorry sight.
“Go ahead then,” the Absolutum finally said. “But you must beat me at Pressure Hat. I’m up 1–0.
Mr. Holloway reluctantly agreed. He was committed to his scheme.
The hat covering his face made it hard to breathe. Once the Absolutum finished celebrating he collected his bags and reset Mr. Holloway’s hat.
Mr. Holloway did not go easy on the Absolutum. He ended the game as quickly as he could. It took eight more hours.
