I first arrived in northern Germany in 1722. I was on my way to Italy, with hopes to see Leonardo da Vinci’s laboratory myself – how I wish I was two hundred years older, that I may have met him in person. It would have been easier and faster to sail all the way around to Rome or Naples, but also more expensive. I barely had enough money to get me on a ship to the mainland. So it was that I set foot in northern Germany, an Icelandic peasant girl with aspirations of a scientific world. I could read three languages – one of them Latin – so I was sure that if I could only find other scientists like myself (not that I was a lady of science yet), I would have no trouble learning.

Three weeks into my trek through German forestlands he found me. The first thing he said was that I was going the wrong way. This offended me greatly, as I have a sense of direction which is both impeccable and unerring, and in any case he didn’t know where I was headed. I introduced myself with my amazing name of Zylphia Sophia Skuldsdottir; he merely gave me a title, the Count of St. Germain.
He said he was an alchemist, a scientist, and a man of the world. I said I was travelling to Italy to see where da Vinci worked and become a scientist myself. He said nobody would take a woman seriously, and even if they did it wouldn’t be an underfed, dirty woman in a skirt and bare feet (about four days prior one of my sandals wore out and I didn’t have the money to replace it, besides it’s rather warm in Germany). He said, though, that he would take me in and teach me. He said I was just what he was looking for. He even said he’d get me food and a proper suit to go along with the knowledge. So it was that we headed not east to Italy, but west to France, where he kept his home and scientific laboratory.
It was fascinating, studying with the nameless Count. Science was much more wonderful than I had thought. We started with basic tenets of the chemical structure of all physical things – now called chemistry, but we had a more elegant name for it, alchemy. Alchemy was a bit different than chemistry. It was more fantastic and beautiful. The ability to metamorphosise other objects and, even, oneself gave a lot of alchemists a sense of power. It gave the Count and me a sense of purpose. Due to his alchemical arts we were quite well off, which was another exhilarating experience for me. And I shan’t even mention pants. As you’re wearing them, I must presume you are perfectly cognizant of their wondrousness. It wasn’t really overt until the end, but I think he put something in the food I ate. We studied the sciences and travelled the world for nearly a century, and the whole time I seemed to remain twenty-two years of age, not a day older than when I met him. Not a day older than I am now. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, as I was too caught up in our adventures to pay attention to my own appearance; as well, the Count strayed away from mirrors. I never really learned why, but I suspect he feared them for some reason.

We also studied natural sciences and mathematics. This lead into astronomy and the still-young science of physics. I’ve always loved astronomy the most, although basic Newtonian motion has always captivated me for some reason. It’s simple and pretty. It was about 1810 when he left; we were right in the middle of reviewing Dalton’s New System of Chemical Philosophy, volume the second. I came down to breakfast one morning, I think it was early September, to find a note, some gems, and a full beaker of an unfamiliar potion. The note said that the potion would sustain me until he saw me again, and the gems would help keep me financially stable until I made my own arrangements. I spent the next two centuries searching the world. I’ve heard many leads and hints over the years, but never managed to catch up with him.