58th Day of Frost, 350th Year of the Age of Sundering
Arthur was a mahogany skinned ghoul, thick of shoulder and wide of face. He bore the unmistakable strength of a life spent at hard physical labor. Distinctly dissimilar from the other Bonecasters in that regard. Masagh’s brother Cyran and the rest of his necromancers were thin and reedy compared to the broad Arthur. Masagh stood in the doorway to the laboratory and watched as he pulled the runes head of hammer from within the forge and plunged it into the basin nearby. Across the room, Cyran and another Bonecaster were working on some arcane circle.
Masagh stepped inside. “Hello Arthur, anything interesting for me today?”
Arthur glowered up at him and huffed a snort of laughter that was bitter and without humor. “Hello Creth boy. Am I to serve as entertainer as well as Runeforger?” He pulled another piece of rune forging out of the forge and set the glowing metal atop the larger of two anvils. “I think such a task too cumbersome, even for my dedication to my oath.” His gaze darted up to Masagh briefly before he began measured strikes with the hammer in his hand.
A prickly sort, Arthur had treated Masagh’s attitude in their lessons as a nuisance and a childish indulgence others might have the time for, but he certainly did not. The youngest son of the Matriarch straightened and sat down at the table. “No need for entertainment. I just hoped perhaps I could make something myself.”
“You are not skilled enough to make anything of worth on your own, and you are not experienced enough to be trusted with the forge…yet.” Arthur said matter-of-factly. Masagh darted a glance towards where his older brother Cyran and the other were working. They were absorbed in whatever necromantic workings they labored at.
After a moment, Arthur went on. “But, you showed decent improvement with the fine metalwork yesterday.” He hammered a few more times, not rushing his point. He prioritized the craft over everything. Arthur had even been known to keep Emerande waiting for a response in a conversation in order to finish some piece of artifice. It was tolerated by her because his work was impeccable. It was tolerated by Masagh because he had no choice. Finally Arthur finished and placed the piece on the small anvil as it cooled. Then he set the hammer carefully in its rack and turned to Masagh.
“I’ve decided you will start with the chisel today, and runes.”
Masagh’s eyebrows rose as he glanced around. “Thank you. I-“
“Yes, yes.” Arthur said moving over to the desk. He pushed a squad disk of metal towards Masagh and an scroll etched in runes. “These are Nio Uvverece. This is the rune work for a binding enchantment that will keep the power of an Animus shaping within the amulet. Useful, somewhat simple, and sellable to the goblins.” Arthur said, rapping a knock against the parchment.
“Will I be enchanting it too?” Masagh asked quickly.
“No, but perhaps next week after you have practiced a few hundred times, maybe I will let you assist me by modeling the animus shellwork while I enchant it.”
Masagh picked up the amulet and tilted his head on confusion. “This isn’t iron, its pewter.”
Arthur nodded once. “Yes, you will practice the rune work on this. One hundred times.” Masagh felt his heart sinking as Arthur turned back to the forge. “Then we will enchant and see if it works. If it is a success, I will have you etch the runes for some in iron.” The Tunesmith turned and glowered at Masagh then. “Master the fine details of the runes then I will allow you to carve them on hot metal.
Arthur returned with an ornately carved chisel and fine hammer. “The pewter will allow for many attempts and the same level of control is required. Hammer it smooth on the anvil if you make a mistake. Bring to me each time you complete it.”
Masagh nodded, taking the chisel and hammer. The Runesmith stepped away and paused. He turned and held a finger up in the air. “This rune work is old, Creth boy. Older than you know.” He was glowering again, his skeletal visage dark and angry. “A simple enchantment true, but an ancient one that goes back to the empire even. Probably this compound has the only pieces of Nio Uvverece in a thousand miles… Do not damage the scroll.” Arthur said the last bit leaning down and staring into Masagh’s face.
“Right.” Masagh said. “I won’t let any harm come to it.”
Arthur grunted, a granite rasp. Then he went back to the forge.
Picking up the chisel Masagh pulled the scroll carefully closer. Nio Uvverece was the ancient and almost lost script to the language of the Undead Empire. Uvverece was the spoken form, still spoken today by groups like House Creth, though bastardized by the majority of undead.
Nio Uvverece was an elegant language designed for such arcane uses. As Masagh bent to the work with hammer and chisel he recalled a lecture his mother gave back when he was a young boy. She had taught him their histories herself, and had told him the language had been a way to record the teachings of the great mage Quetharax.
Now, Creth was probably one of the only libraries to house more than a few scraps of it.
It was good for magic enchantment though. The entire script when written in together had a single, unbroken line running through it. All meaning came in deviations from the line. Elegant swirls or points arrayed around that unwavering line as if it carried there weight of the message. It was a beautiful script, though as Masagh found, challenging to scribe.
The Tassu rune in particular was the first that made him stop and frown down at his work. There were a tough series of swirls and stars that after attempting he saw were clearly not correct. Masagh clenched his teeth. Would it be better to finished the rest and then batter it back smooth, or reset now?
He glanced at Arthur. The ghoul’s flesh hung from his body in places, and the decayed muscles spasmed under his skin as the Runesmith worked with the forge. Arthur would not appreciate being interrupted for such a question.
Instead Masagh thought about what Arthur valued. Time, he valued time and honest effort. Masagh looked down at the mistake. He set the chisel across the rune and hammered a single stroke. It slashed the rune and broke the chain. Then he set about continuing the work. It meant he had caught his own mistake and then continued. If he reset after each mistake he would not practice the entire thing. Letting Arthur think he was sloppy and unobservant would be equally bad. So he marked his mistakes and simply continued. He’d give it to Arthur for review and point out where he made mistakes then let the Runesmith point out the rest.
It was oddly pleasant, working with his hands such and leaving his mind to wander. Around him more Bonecasters came and went. Masagh hardly noticed them as he tapped away at the circle of runes. When he finally finished the first attempt, he had only slashed out five runes.
Arthur glared down at it with a deep frown when Masagh called him over. “These circles and stars here would not hold the aether. Too sloppy.” Arthur pointed a thick, leathery claw at the beginning.
“What about these?” Masagh asked, pointing out others. “These were some of the later ones.”
“Better, still won’t do.” Arthur said. No praise, no anger. Just the fact it was not good enough. “The line is straight and the flares here… and here are good. Do more of that with the next attempt.”
Masagh nodded, squinting his red eyes at the parts Arthur had praised. The Tunesmith took the amulet then and went to hammer it smooth again.
When it was returned to him, Masagh began again. It was easier this time. Perhaps it was that he was familiar with the bones of the process now, or that he had some idea of which parts gave him the most trouble, but the prospect was less daunting.
“You seem a natural to me.”
It was not Arthur’s voice. Masagh looked up and met Emerande Creth’s gaze. She looked down at him with a small satisfied smile. He rolled his eyes and returned to the work. “I doubt Arthur would say so.”
“He hasn’t kicked you out.” He could hear the smile in the words. “Fun isn’t it?”
“It was peaceful, at least.” Masagh conceded.
“Oh well I wouldn’t want to ruin your peace son.” The Matriarch of House Creth said sarcastically. “Perhaps after you master this craft you will come across the room and learn Necromancy.”
“Why?” Masagh carefully set the chisel down and looked up at her. He heard the steady hammer beats as Arthur worked a piece of metal on the anvil. “Why do you want me to learn all this and not Sabrione or Parthena? Why was Cyran not made to take the Reaving? Am I to be the perpetual student?”
Her brow furrowed. “You show aptitude in the blade so you receive the Reaving, you show aptitude in other areas also. Why are you so ready to be confined to one role?”
He opened his mouth and did not speak. He was about to say something childish, like he didn’t want to be stuck in the laboratory while there was excitement above. But he had been enjoying the process here. Such juvenile sentiments were unlikely to impress anyone here in a compound full of the ancient corpse-mages.
“The Reaving Rune is a great tool.” Emerande said. “But the arts we practice in this room have made and broken empires.” She raised her chin. “Perhaps I make you partake in it because I see that aptitude in you.” Then she stepped away to go speak with Cyran…
