14th Day of Frost, 123rd Year of the Age of Steel
Continued from here...
“Well maybe if you finish this project soon she will be pleased enough to return you to duties.” Sabrione said, a crooked grin crossing her features. “She always wanted you doing all that bookish stuff. Now you are grabbing it by the balls.”
It was odd to see Sabrione like this. Her normally dour and cynical attitude had been replaced with a bright sort of optimism since Masagh’s return. He had to repeatedly remind himself that for her and the rest of them, it had been a year of thinking him gone. So while she probably would have preferred him with the knights, alive and home was a very close second.
It was hardly as hard a situation in her eyes as it was for him. He was alive after all, and returned. Masagh smirked at her. It was nice to see his presence could give her so much happiness. “Maybe, although an auraglass is no great accomplishment for any Bonecaster worth their salt.”
“Well, got to start somewhere right?” Riah said, from right behind Sabrione. The new knight, Kern, was grinning bemusedly behind her.
“Yea, you just got to get some more ink on the ol’ nose.” He said in a deep voice. He was shorter than Masagh, but as broad as Cleon had been. “Look real sad and lonely for a bit, then boom back with the gang in no time.” He bit at a chunk of meat he carried.
“Not so sure.” Masagh growled, leaning against the wall outside the library. “But that’s no worry for you all. I’ll be relaxing while you go on your mission. Where are you off to?”
Sabrione shrugged a bit. “Just taking a cart to the King under the city. Standard fair.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Where’s your misty friend? Indira?” Sabrione asked with a keen sort of interest.
Masagh raised a brow and tilted his head. “Still finishing up in the library. Why?”
She shrugged again, smiling at him. “Oh I like the way she checks your grouchy ass.”
The other knights were appreciative of that. Masagh scowled at all of them. Sabrione’s laughter became a fraction more genuine. “No I think it’s good for you. I like her.”
“Well that’s very kind.” Indira said, appearing through the wall next to them. Everyone gave a startled jump and Sabrione hissed out a curse. “I like you too, Sabrione.”
Masagh’s sister gave the ghost a scowl and pointed a finger menacingly. “I take it all back, misty. Don;t go floating around scaring the shit out of people.” She curled her thumbs through her belt. “Alright, knights. Time to fuck off. Let’s go. Dinner later?” The last to Masagh.
“You know where to find me.”
When they were gone Masagh turned to Indira and smiled. He tried to keep his true feelings off his face, but he saw her eyes soften. “You ready to go finish this damn auraglass? Been long enough.”
She gave a small smile. “You know for an immortal corpse prince you are quite impatient.”
“Prince?” He barked a croaking laugh. “Do I look like a prince to you.”
Indira floated along behind him as he set out towards the lab at the end of the hallway. “Your mother does have a throne, and it sits on a dais.”
Masagh nodded as he pushed open the door and allowed her to pass in front of him. “Fair point, although I like to think that says more about her than me.”
As always these days Arthur was within conducting one casting or another. Today he was there with two of the other Bonecasters working an animation ritual for one of the thralls the house used for outer security. They were in the middle of a complex three person chanting, their ichor pulsing into the circle on the ground. The flesh altered horror in the center still dormant. Large boney claw-like protrusions sprouted from a muscled set of limbs.
Indira stopped and stared, her face a mask of horror. Masagh stepped up next to her, letting his shoulder brush her own. The cold chill of her ghostly form permeating through him. It was how he had attempted to provide comfort to her in the times the new environment seemed overwhelming.
“It’s not like how Lithicus did it.” Masagh said quietly. “Nothing living. Anything that went into that thrall was already dead.” He watched her as she stared. The necromancy seemed to be the the hardest thing for her to deal with. It was also the only aspect of life on the Creth Compound that was probably familiar to her. Which meant trauma. “We do own a mausoleum and cemetery.”
Indira visibly pulled herself away from the ritual, turning to the less gruesome Runeforging side of the laboratory. “Right, it’s just jarring.”
Masagh nodded and followed her over to their auraglass project. “You don’t have to take part in any of that.” He assured her gruffly.
“Do you?” She asked, looking up at him with a sort of worried apprehension.
Masagh thought about lying to her. She was in a precarious situation, pulled away from her home and placed in this foreign place full of undead. It may have been a horrible home, but at least is was familiar and safe for her. He was her only link to this new place. Recently he had become just all too aware how much trouble these self-serving lies could be.
“Yes, sometimes.” He said as he pulled the recently ground and polished auraglass lens out of the project shelf. “I helped replace my own arm when It was lost in battle.” He pulled the finished chain and bracket from the same shelf and reached up to unlace his sleeve and pull it up. The twin etched runic lines around the stitching scar were almost the only indication that the arm was not his original. The skin was a slightly different shade of greenish grey undeath, though it was hard to make out when one wasn’t looking at the scar.
