text: Esur looked out into the gloomy sunrise over the harbor’s waters and wondered aloud. “Would life be easier if I were a fish?” It made sense to him the more he thought about it. Fish didn’t have to worry about things like a job. They didn’t have to think about a slave-tasker of a boss yelling at them to unload a ship’s cargo faster. All he’d have to think about was swimming. The fish didn’t need to worry about scraping enough coins together to cover bills from the landlord or the tax collector. Anything below the water's surface just had to worry about their next meal or avoid becoming something else’s meal. In fact, being a fish meant that all he needed to worry about was swimming, eating, and surviving. The more he thought about it, the more Esur liked the idea of becoming a fish more and more. There was a quiet simplicity to it. A life where problems seemed straightforward and their answers even more so. The first hurdle in Esur’s idea was the whole part of turning from a mortal man into a fish. He couldn’t just strip naked and take a dive into the waters. That was a half-assed solution to the problem at best. After all, he’d have to come up for air at some point. Esur was a decent swimmer, but that didn’t preclude that he still needed to breathe. There’d probably also be people with questions like ‘what are you doing?’ and ‘why are you naked?’. Plus, he didn’t have any previous experience as a fish. Knowing his luck, he’d probably swim around for five minutes before sinking his teeth into a baited hook. The fisherman on the other end would probably be excited for a few minutes before dragging Esur out of the water. He could go to a local alchemist and see if they had anything that could turn him physically into a fish. Something that he could down and get to the water’s edge before he couldn’t suck down pure air and needed to start breathing water. Maybe he should wait until he was in the water before drinking it. That seemed sensible. Or maybe he could go and find a potion that just gave him gills. His fingers ran over the nape of his neck, where he imagined a set of gills sucking in water and air. He frowned. Would that be weird? He wondered. Or would it be worth it to completely turn into a fish? If he took a potion to become one, would he be able to pick out the type he could become? He’d hate to go through all of this effort to become a sardine. There was an alchemist not too far from where he lived that his co-workers said they always went to whenever they needed a potion. Apparently, she had a little bit of everything that could cure a little bit of anything. He’d never heard a bad word about her treatments. Esur had never been there since the spare coin in his pocket was usually enough to weigh nothing. If he had ever gotten sick, he’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and slowly working through whatever gods he could recall praying to. By the time he got through the third or fourth rotation, he’d feel better. Either the hours of bedrest would do the trick, or one of those dozens of deities was listening. If this alchemist was good, maybe she could help him solve his problems. Throwing on a pair of trousers, boots, and a motley patched tunic, he emerged from the hole in the wall that he called an apartment and onto the city streets. Men, women, and children were already emerging from their little apartments to do their own business. Heading to the docks to unload ships, fishing for actual fish and not people trying to be fish, opening up their little shops next to their apartments, and things outside of what Esur knew. Down the street, he saw a dozen children gathering for their morning pickpocket meeting. The oldest, Old Brian, was in charge at the grand age of twelve. Esur had learned to avoid their morning meeting lest he became an easy target. Instead, he went a long way around them down several side streets, up a ladder, across a rooftop, and back down half a block away from the pickpockets. It was the only way to be sure. Heading deeper into the city, Esur tried his best to follow along with the traffic flow. It was easier said than done. The foot traffic in the city of Weido was dancing, if the band playing the music changed tempos and genres of music every few minutes. There was an ebb and flow to it, much like the harbor's waters, that you had to pay careful attention to. A shuffling pace could quickly become a hustle to escape tourists. Skimming sideways around a pothole could quickly back away as the pothole turned into a sinkhole. A simple walk down an empty street could turn into a full-on run for your life as a troll rampaged towards you. Unfortunately, Esur had two left feet. It was a medical condition, born with both feet hooked slightly to the right. The condition didn’t affect his living badly, except for dancing and convincing bootmakers to sell him two left boots. Esur did his best to follow along with the crowd, but that had quite never been something he’d ever been good at. Frequently he bumped into other people, apologizing as he tried to keep up with the forward momentum. He almost shoulder-checked a lamppost as the crowd surged to the right to make room for a few of the city guards riding horses down the street, smug looks on their faces as the crowd cleared for them. By the time Esur had traveled for four blocks, a hefty sweat had already begun to build upon his brow. The morning was still quite cool, with a gentle breeze blowing from the sea, but Esur had a habit of sweating like a pig at the drop of a hat. He pushed on, fighting through the crowded streets, until he finally arrived at the alchemist’s shop. It had been set up in a quaint little corner between two smaller streets. A steady traffic flow was already passing it by, and Esur nearly walked right by it. When he got a good look at it, he was surprised he could miss it at all. Hanging vines cut like bangs over the clear, clean windows of the shop. On display shelves, odd bottles filled with even odder liquids were presented to passersby. A door that seemed a little too tall and narrow was the only way in or out, with a tiled roof of deep muddy reds pulled to a tall peak. He was amazed that he had never seen this place before. Most of his time was spent going between the docks and my apartment, with few occasions going beyond those handfuls of streets. The shop stood out, not like a sore thumb, but more like a hypnotic creature drawing prey. Hanging over the vines themselves was a simple sign, red paint on a light oaken board Primrose’s Poultices. Esur shuffled into the alchemist's shop, and his nose was immediately filled with a hundred different scents. Plenty of smells were down at the harbor, but those were mostly seawater, seabirds, and dead fish. He immediately sneezed into the crook of his arm as his nostrils were assailed with things he didn’t know where to begin describing. The air was sweet, spicy, soft, hard, salty, and so much more. Wiping his nose, he saw even more shelves filled with strange bottles. All of them were neatly organized in a way that Esur assumed made sense, as from his perspective, it looked like they were haphazardly placed next to one another. There was even one that appeared to be empty. He picked it up and found the label simply said *Invisibility Potion. Warning- Do not consume with alcohol. Not because they don’t mix well, but because it is a bad idea. Trust me from experience.* A polite cough from around one of the shelves made Esur nearly drop the bottle. He placed it back onto the shelf when a woman he assumed was Primrose came around the corner. She was a hair taller than he was, with a significant quantity of red hair draped down over her shoulders and back. There was a tilt of her head as she examined him through a pair of wide, round glasses. She was quiet for a few moments that seemed to drag on for minutes before she finally made a sound. “Hm,” She said. “Hm?” He said. “Huh,” She continued. “Huh?” He replied. She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before, have I?” “No, this would be my first time here,” Esur said, wondering if this would be the last time he was here. “I knew it. I never forget a face. Names, I’m terrible with.” She offered her own. “Primrose.” “Esur,” He introduced, giving her hand a shake. Her pale hand was far stronger than he would have guessed. “I apologize in advance if I mispronounce or forget your name, Esur,” She said as she went over to a nearby counter, stepped behind it, and pulled a large, leather-bound book from behind it. “So, are you just window shopping or here for something specific?” “Something specific,” Esur said, following her and standing on the other side of the counter. “It’s actually a bit odd, but I was hoping you’d be able to help.” “Believe you me, Mr. Estur, there is no shortage of strange requests that have come through that doorway,” She said, flipping through a few pages to get to a clean one. She took out a bright white feather and an inkpot from beneath the counter. “I’ve seen all sorts of maladies and troubles. Heart problems, broken bones, missing bones, troubles of the mind, and many, many more. Tell me what bothers you, and we’ll see what I can do.” “Esur,” He corrected. “Well, I’m just going to come right out and say it- I want a potion to become a fish.” Primrose paused. Slowly, she looked up into Esur’s eyes with a quirk on her eyebrow. Her quill hung over the page, a droplet of black ink dripping onto the now-stained paper. “A fish?” “Preferably not a sardine.” Her head tilted to the side once more, and he could see that she was momentarily lost in thought. “That’s a new one.” “I thought you said you’d seen everything?” He said. “I said I’ve seen and cured many things, but a person requesting to become a fish is a new problem. One man wanted to live as a merman for a week, but never just a plain old fish.” She said as she began to write on the page. Esur leaned over to see what she was writing down, but he could not distinguish the words on the page. Some kind of alchemist code, he presumed. Or maybe her penmanship was terrible. Both were likely. Both could be true at the same time. “Then it sounds like you already know where to begin,” Esur said, feeling a twinge of hope for the first time since he woke up that morning. “Just take whatever you did with making that man a merman, remove the man, and make it permanent.” She shook her head. “Why does everyone assume that potions are anything alike? There’s a reason why your average person doesn’t get into the alchemy business. It takes a lot of work to develop a potion that works the same every time, usually with a lot of failure along the way. Anything worth doing right is worth working hard towards.” She gestured out to the shop. “Every single potion on the shelf here took a lot of sweat, other people’s blood and tears to get right. Some were passed down to me by my mentor, and some I cooked up on my own. If you’re looking to become a fish, then it will take a bit of trial and error to make it work right. And that’s a lot of work on my part and coin on your part to make that happen.” Esur winced. His mouth had gotten ahead of his mind once again. The hope that he had for a whole minute was already feeling further away than before. “My apologies. I didn’t understand.” He took a breath to collect himself. “I will be honest with you- I don’t have much to coin to my name. There’s little in my pocket, and as soon as my landlord finds me, I probably won’t have much else. Becoming a fish seemed like a good idea to just have those problems not be something of mine anymore.” Primrose frowned. She set down the quill beside her book and steepled her fingers before her lips. Esur saw a glazed look in her eyes, utterly unfocused on what was in front of her. He waved a hand in front of her face with no response. Esur wondered if he should just go. This seemed more and more like a dead end to him. Whatever she had in mind sounded expensive. He frowned, feeling foolish. This was just a waste, wasn’t it? He thought to himself. All this really did was make him late for work at the docks. Maybe being a fish just wasn’t in the cards for him. As he started for the door, Primrose’s hands slapped the top of the counter. “I’ve got it!” She said before turning to face him. “I think I’ve got a plan that can be mutually beneficial.” Esur paused. That flicker of hope was threatening to start burning once more. “I don’t have much money, so I’m not going to be able to pay.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Forget about money. You can work off what you’d owe me in exchange for the potion.” “Truly?” “As true as blue,” Primrose said. “I need to do some research and figure a few things out. Components I’ll need. Tests I’ll need to run. It won’t be easy, but I think we can come to an arrangement that will benefit us both- you’ll get to become a fish, and I’ll get my hands on some ingredients I’ll need for other potions. Do we have an accord, Mr. East?” “We do,” Esur said, putting out his hand again, not minding her getting his name wrong. She gave him another hearty shake. “Don’t worry about coming back here. I’ll find you. Now, get out of here. I need some peace and quiet so I can focus.”He nodded and headed out the door. Being thrown out didn’t bother him either. Standing outside of the shop, he took a moment for himself. He breathed in the cool, salty breeze. The sun felt warm and inviting on his face. Even the crowd around him seemed lively over annoying. For the first time in a long time, Esur felt himself smile. It was an odd sensation, an unfamiliar one, but far from unpleasant. As he began returning to the docks to get to work, he briefly considered whistling. The idea was quickly squashed. Esur had never been musically inclined. The one time his mother had requested he try to sing for her, the wince on her face had told him all he needed to know. He was content to smile as he headed down the street for now. Where to go? What to do? He wondered. There was no telling how long it would take Primrose to make the potion. It might be a few hours or a few days. Til he got his hands on it, he still needed money. Somewhat reluctantly, he began his way back to the docks to head to work. The smile still stayed on his face, despite the ear-lashing he was about to get from his overbearing boss.