"Seems like it from where I'm standing."

"I am being honest in my praise. I had simply wanted to note that I believe I have an opportunity for you to further your ambitions - and you must forgive my old habits, as I'm quite thoroughly trained in very indirect manners. I suppose the directness of the youth is something to get used to, for me."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"Power. Equivalent exchange is the chain that binds us all, unseen, heavy. Many alchemists throughout history have speculated on the Philosopher's Stone, a mystical gem that breaks equivalent exchange."

"I found some texts from Xerxes, some time ago, and translated them. I believe they reveal how that lost civilization made the stone - they describe an enormous array carved around an entire city, to fold the souls of its inhabitants into a usable form. That act was too great for the alchemists involved, but I have found evidence smaller stones can be made with fewer, more efficiently used sacrifices. These small stones, unlike their grand predecessors, are safe to make and use."

"...What evidence?"

She pulls a small ruby from within her coat.

No, not a ruby -

It shines, glimmers, moves like water in its depths, casts its own light on her hand -

It's off-putting, almost, dark and heavy and there.

"Sometimes in my travels, I encounter others who have found this secret themselves."

El's gaze is captivated by it.

"A mere ten people," she says. "Certainly not a city's worth."

"...No..."

"I've been cautious with establishing its true limits so far - overuse does drain what it has for exchange - but there is no ingredient it cannot fill in for in at least small amounts."

"That's incredible."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Would you like to know the secrets to making them?"

"What's the catch?"

"Because nothing can be gained without sacrifice, hm?"

"I would like you - and your sister, if she's interested - to make them for me. Alchemy is difficult, when your vision fails, and your hands shake, and your mind slows. I can perform most transmutations still - but this requires a far more delicate touch than heating tea. You'll get a portion of the ones you make, of course."

"You don't seem that old." And she doesn't believe for a second Dante's mind has slowed.

"I'm older than I look," she says, like this is some great inside joke.

"Do the stones have anything to do with that?"

"You're a clever girl."

"They do. Unfortunately, using them wears you a bit thin. Exacerbates the natural problems of old age. I expect in another century or three I'll be quite unable to use alchemy at all."

"Another century or three?"

"I was born in May of fourteen ninety four. It's been just over four centuries, now. I haven't often found students I'd be willing to risk carrying along with me, but you don't seem the type to develop surprise qualms."

"...I'd have to talk with my sister."

"Of course! I wouldn't dream of splitting you two up."

She nods.

"How about I let you go talk to her?"

"Yes. I'll- go do that." And so she does.