13. First Experiment (2): Why Is This Happening?
Why is this happening? Sure, sometimes you make a mistake during an experiment and end up with something even better. Or you try some insane stunt no one's ever attempted before and luck out with unexpected results. Is this one of those cases?
Thinking back on the atrocities Arienael committed while running this experiment, I doubt anyone else has botched it quite this badly. But if you break down each of her actions individually, it's hard to believe no one's ever done any of them. Has really no one ever ground their ingredients finer? Or pawned off the tedious work on a spirit because they were too lazy?
If I can't pinpoint the cause in any single element, things get complicated. There could have been an error in the analysis or measurements. Or maybe it's a combination of multiple factors. The biggest problem is that the experiment was such a mess—there are way too many variables.
Arienael herself might not even be able to replicate it. Off the top of my head, I can think of six variables already, and that's not even counting combinations of two or more. You want me to test all those? With repeated trials for each one? That'd mean me and Arienael devoting the entire year to this single experiment. We'd be lucky to squeeze out a report, let alone a paper.
Damn it, this is exactly why you need proper controls. First things first—let's check reproducibility.
"No idea why. Make it again, exactly the same way."
"Exactly?"
"Yeah. Forget everything I pointed out earlier and replicate it just like before. Actually, not just once—do it twice. Make three in total and prove the repeatability."
Arienael nodded and reached for two unused pots.
"No. Leave one here."
"Pardon?"
"I need it."
It's not just the procedure that's sloppy. The control sample's condition is suspect, and I can't fully trust the equipment or materials either. After watching her process once, I need to make one myself right beside her.
"Start with the first one on your own. I need to see it from the very beginning."
"You're going to watch?"
"Ignore me standing here and do it exactly like before."
"Ah......."
Arienael started slowly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. She summoned a spirit and filled the pot with water...
Hold on.
"The water—you made that with spirit magic too?"
"Yes."
"The recipe clearly says 'fill with water creation magic'... Never mind. Keep going."
I wanted to sigh deeply. That damn spirit magic was driving me nuts. If I nitpicked every little thing, she might start hiding steps on purpose later, so I let it slide for now.
More importantly, what was she doing?
"What're you up to?"
"Picking ingredients."
"Picking? They're all the same ingredients."
"No, they're not."
I had no choice but to go look myself. What Arienael had been staring at for ages, comparing back and forth, was the red herb—the main ingredient for this batch. As I approached, she held one in each hand and showed them off like, see?
"Different?"
"Yes. The one in my left hand is off. The color's a bit dull, and the mana doesn't flow right, don't you think?"
I had no clue. Now that she mentioned it, maybe it looked that way, but if she'd handed me two random ones and said the same thing, I'd have nodded along anyway. No confidence here.
"I can't tell. Did you learn this in herbology class?"
"I've known since I was little."
"Some elven secret technique passed down?"
"It just shows if you look."
Arienael said it without frustration or reproach. She'd expected I wouldn't see it. Probably something humans can't sense—knowledge or instinct unique to elves. Maybe not visual, but smell or mana sensitivity.
Either way, I couldn't see it.
"Honestly, I have no idea what the difference is. Can you explain?"
"Not really. They just feel different."
She must've tried explaining to classmates or professors in natural sciences. They probably didn't get it no matter how she put it.
"That's a problem. Can you definitely tell them apart?"
"Yes. It's not super clear-cut, but a difference this stark..."
That's stark?
"Why the difference?"
"Depends on where they grew. Different trees or grasses nearby, soil type... even which animal spread the seeds, how long spirits lingered around, what season they sprouted in, what time of day the flowers bloomed..."
"Hold up. So you can tell all that just looking at a bunch of plucked herbs?"
"No way. I heard most of this. I can sense a rough idea, though."
"From other elves you lived with?"
"Some from my parents or village elders, and a lot from classes here."
"Didn't you say human natural science knowledge falls short of elves'? That's why you switched majors."
"Herbology helped a ton. Elven tribal knowledge is too fragmented and scattered."
You don't always need someone superior to learn from. Even from those less skilled, you can pick up things—especially from the type who 'knows how to explain well.' It systematizes vague intuitions. Might lack depth, but it sketches the big picture across a wide range. For elves with tons of experiential knowledge but little structure, it was probably just what she needed.
"Wh-why are you looking at me like that?"
Suddenly, I saw Arienael in a new light. Elves pursuing human education are rare to begin with. Even rarer for them to specialize in certain fields. And if that field is one elves typically ignore?
Natural sciences—one of the few where elven knowledge outpaces humans. Potions, useless to most elves. And herbology, their overlap—studied from humans at a magic university, no less.
I might've just landed a talent rarer than a unicorn.
Arienael took ages picking the other ingredients too. Mushrooms got as much scrutiny as the herbs. Animal materials she sorted quickly after a glance.
"Fast on those. Easy to distinguish insects?"
"Opposite. Can't tell short-term glances, so I grabbed roughly earlier."
Right, I told her to do it exactly like before. Skips the recipe but follows this to the letter.
"There is a difference, though?"
"Some."
"Fine. Skip it and keep going like before."
The rest unfolded about as expected. Dosing by feel, ignoring quantities. Spirits meddling constantly. Measurements roughly matched by eye, like "potions are all about hand-feel." Endless details if I listed them.
Normally I'd blow up and lay down the law, but today every quirk charmed me. Gotta treat a precious talent right.
Of course, I still meticulously noted every procedural error—without saying a word.
Arienael found my hovering intensely awkward. By the third batch, when I stopped observing and prepped to brew beside her, she lit up with relief.
"All clean? Especially the pot—it needs to be spotless for immediate use."
"Spirits okay? It's clean."
With how sloppy the process was, I'd worried about cleanup, but she handled it fine. Washing has no fixed steps anyway.
"Good enough. You take one, give me the other."
"Making two?"
"Three total. We'll do two at once first, then you demo the last one."
"Need three? Time okay?"
"It's the first experiment—gotta set an example. Can't trust the guild stuff either. I prepped while watching you, so it'll be quick. Worry about your potion."
I'd brewed plenty. Even secretly on my own. This one's straightforward with experience—shouldn't take long.
As expected, I was the one waiting. By the time I finished prepping two pots, intermediates, and splits, Arienael was still grinding with a wind spirit.
She'd figured less volume plus spirits meant faster—and panicked a bit. Of course it's slow if you pulverize what just needs crushing. No technique.
I got bored, washed the next pot, and then she bottled her last one.
"You're fast."
"Speed comes with practice—no helping it. Check the contents."
Heading to the herb box to demo selection, Arienael stopped me.
"I picked extras earlier—use these."
"You picked them?"
"Yes."
"No. Yours and mine would differ."
"Mine are better, right?"
"Even if they are, no. Think about the experiment's goal. I'm making a control to compare with yours. Not chasing the best potion."
"Oh, right."
"Besides, I picked for the first two anyway. Unless you want to start over from scratch, stick to exactly like before. Remember I told you to replicate every step, mistakes included."
She nodded—gets the point, at least.
I followed the recipe obsessively after that, even "mistaking" on purpose to demo.
"Gotta redo this."
"That? Problem?"
"Read: 'Before slicing dried mushrooms, cut vertically first.' Needed cutting, but I crushed it in my hand. Tore along the grain."
"Really that precise? Gonna slice anyway."
"Yes. They specified it for a reason—experimenter discretion wouldn't include direction otherwise."
I skipped minor stuff but hammered this home. Elves need it spelled out. Can't have her half-assing every experiment forever. This success was hindsight.
Finally, my last potion finished. Explaining midway stretched the time, but now—results.