60th Day of Searing, 124th Year of the Age of Steel
It had been excruciating, lying to his mother. Those old, burning eyes saw too much. It hadn’t even been the close call with the Kinvaren ambush earlier in the season, but this Runeforging project he was finishing. He sighed and brushed away flakes of metal from the thick sheet of metal that was the lion’s share of his current project. Arthur had told Masagh he needed a well versed Scrivener to aid in the runic circles and glyphs needed to build a Runesmith’s workbench.
The only Scrivener he knew of that caliber was… his mother. Normally she would be over the moon to aid him with a project in one of the magics she had so doggedly bullied him into pursuing for years. However, this particular workbench was being created to be mobile and collapsible, something a son under house arrest would not need. Not to mention, she was still infuriated with him.
That is the thing about ancient ghouls, their perspective on time is quite different. A few months might be enough for a younger person to cool off and get over something, but it was hardly any time at all for a woman who still reminisces about the Undead Empire, which collapsed centuries ago, over dinner.
In a stroke of brilliance, he had used his most recent failing with the reinforced armor to his advantage. “Arthur thought I had been complacent, so set me to build something complex but with extra challenges. It is to teach me the importance of fine detail.” He had tried to look as miserable as possible when speaking to her over dinner. “So I decided on a compact workbench of sorts, in order to motivate my creativity.” It is most definitely not because I want one that I can bring with me when I abandon the family to pursue the very thing you confined me for.
Emerande Creth had scowled and searched his face, but in the end had conceded to aid him. She could never turn down a good project. His idea had been to build a sort of half length workbench for small projects. It would not support the type of Runeforging that required an anvil or forge, but small rings and talismans. He had got the idea for glyphs to control the metals flexibility from the axe he had created. It allowed aether to travel through two pieces of enchanted metal when mirrored and flush against each other.
The workbench was a flexible pane of metal he could roll up and latch closed, but when unfurled he could slide the base under the bottom rim and latch it closed. When closed, the negating glyph on the base blocked the flexibility glyph on the underside of the pane. The base had a set of small drawers that could hold tools also.
Right now those drawers could barely hold the smallest of his chisels. That was what he was finished today. The runework and enchantment of the drawers to give them a bit of featherlight enchantment so they could hold more. His mother had already laid out and supervised his etching of the cardinal workings functionality of the workbench. By the end she had been quite enjoying being as economical with the space as possible to provide the most functionality.
In the end, however, it was only a fraction of the size of a real workbench. They had to sacrifice many things, including a large portion of the aether stability. He would have to be very careful not to make any mistakes using it with any large amount of aether.
“I think she liked working on something with you.” Indira said from where she lounged, sprawled out in mid air. She was reading a book from the library and twirling one of his small hammers in her hand.
“She just likes the magic.” Masagh said dismissively. He was bent so close to the tiny drawer he was carving that his nose was only an inch away.
“No, she probably likes her son too.” Indira said conversationally. “Maybe that’s the way you get her to forgive you and let you follow your dreams. You know, quality time.” The sarcasm registered a moment later.
Masagh blinked and turned to her. “I’m two hundred and three. I’ve spent all those years here, in this city with her. That’s a lot of time.” He turned back to his work. He was just finishing work on the tiny glyphs that would harness the pocket dimension he had coaxed out of the Viscerite with his Traversion enchantment. It was the size of the glyphs that was the real challenge here.
The tiny set of glyphs had to be carved into very hard to reach angles. The lining of runes tethering the Traversion dimensional space to the drawers etched perfectly in order to avoid the whole space slipping away into Slipspace forever.
On the bright side, he had accomplished it with the left and center drawers, and was now finishing the final one. He was halfway through the runic lining when there was a crash a few benches over. A Bonecaster had spilled the acidic concoction they were trying to add to their thrall anatomy. It was a large digger type meant to excavate blocked sewers and burrow. The result when the acid hit the thing’s internals was a sickening explosion of meat.
Masagh had glanced up at the exact wrong moment. His chisel slipped slightly and he could feel the dimensional magic twisting inward already. Cursing, the Tunesmith bent back to his work, thinking quickly. The pressure of the magic was building and now he was beginning to regret working on the drawer on the same workbench as the rest of his project. His shoulders tightened as he diverted the runic line. It was a bit sloppy, and would perhaps limit the size of that drawer, but it allowed him to stabilize the magic and rein in the dimensional space again.
Once he had continued along the new path with his etching for a few more inches he was sure the magic was well in hand again. Bones popped in his spine and muscles bulged under slightly rotten flesh as he leaned back and rolled his head from side to side.
“I have the rest of the items you paid for.” Arthur said, stepping up to Masagh’s workbench and setting a small Aether Kiln down. He rolled his shoulder and then set down a sack next to it. It clinked softly. Masagh’s eyes shifted from the sack to Arthur’s face.
“Thank you.” He said, cracking his fingers.
Arthur grunted and examined his work. He leaned over close to Masagh to see inside the small drawer. “You should put them away before someone comes in and puts two an two together.” The big ghoul nodded his chin first at the miniature kiln and then to the mobile workbench.
“Oh, I know.” Masagh smirked and showed him the featherlight bag by the table leg. He lifted it and Arthur helped him place the small kiln inside with the other supplies he had purchased. Arthur nodded a few times after, his face as impassive as always.
“Be careful.” He said, but his gaze made it mean more than the immediate task. “My master used to have a family that spanned an Empire, now she has only her four children. Do not rob her further when the world has taken so much.”
What could he possibly say to that. It had been almost more than Arthur had ever said at one time outside of instruction. He picked up his chisel and turned back to his project. “I’m going to make it so we can think about growing, not just avoid diminishing.”
“That’s a long road to walk alone, Masagh.” Arthur said. Again, it had the tone of a warning. As though the Bonecaster understood him more than his own mother had, but was making sure Masagh knew the risks.
“What what I hear,” Masagh said. “We used to all be walking it.” He bent back to his work. After a moment Arthur gave a soft sound of ascent and walked away.
The rest of the drawer gave him no issue. He was able to open all three and slid all of his tiny to medium Runesmith’s tools into the featherlight spaces within. He grinned in victory as he lifted the workbench and found it only weighed what it had before the tools. Perfect.
The metal flopped out over his workspace like leather. Masagh slid the base underneath the workbench on the sliding grooves and then fastened the latches. The metal stiffened to its normal unyielding form. He lifted one corner and still it didn’t bend. He had done it.
“So we’re ready… if anything happens.” Indira said in a hushed tone. She watched as Masagh rolled the workbench up and placed it inside his featherlight bag. The space was more full than it had ever been. Between the Aether Kiln, the new workbench, the few references she had copied out for him and all the dragon shards he had purchased from Arthur’s stocks throughout the season, he felt better about the idea of leaving.
Indira also meant that he wouldn’t be alone. Arthur had been wrong in that at least. Perhaps there were other undead across Ransera who wanted what he wanted. He might even be able to convince them.
Runeforged Item
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Ledger
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