85th of Ash, 4621
It was a peculiar thing, recognizing the power he wielded. Over the past couple of weeks, Arkash had taken the time to practice his blood magic under Raphael's supervision. He wasn't allowed to overdo it, in case of overstepping. Any time the beginnings of fatigue or hesitance to use his abilities stirred, he packed it in for the day, and tested for some time before he resumed use of his abilities. He'd become very proficient at Razor, an ability that allowed him to tear through people with just a graze of his blade. It was especially useful that he was able to keep his distance and annihilate those that opposed him.
He had the potential to cause such destruction with Hemorrhage, and could fuel his abilities to such a degree that he almost didn't need to spend Ether if he held a sufficient Ether Leech. Despite his lack of skill in the arcane, Arkash was a force to reckon with. He, the pitiful newt from Nivenhain's worst slum, lowborn nameless trash that wouldn't amount to anything, could so easily cut through swaths of enemies with just his one sword. He felt dangerous, truly powerful, and terrifying. His weapon was the blood in people's veins, and with his exceptional swordsmanship, anyone against him would end up bleeding.
Did he recognize those angry flashes? Those moments in which he found his jaws tensed and fists clenched, the undeniable urge to set off and break whatever was in arms reach. To some extent, but they'd always been there. It was only in recent days that they'd grown as bad as they were. The intensity of his anger went unnoticed, or even the fact that it had started up again. More than they regularly did, his thoughts drifted to violence. He thought of attacking people that he passed whenever they struck... But showed the restraint necessary to hold himself back.
Thankfully, not all of his time was committed to training in Blood Magic. He spent time in the Lab, watching Raphael work and providing him the tools he needed while operating on fallen mages and Halamire. Those that were too badly wounded from whatever Archetype had struck them down were in turn fed to him in place of being euthanized. The ones that had expired before hitting the operating table were also recycled in a similar fashion.
The lack of new material meant that Arkash was to use up the broken pieces of the old, rotting Druskai prisoners for Sinew Foam. Raphael did need it for his operations, and Arkash was tasked with making more. So, he stood there in the dark of the dungeon, grinding up scraps of flesh in the mortar and pestle until they were their sufficiently milky white, then emptied the contents of the bowl into the designated gallon-sized jar. He'd filled three already but had two more to go.
Arkash took note while he ground up the rotting meat, of how it all turned out the same. No matter, if there was puss dripping from the cut, or the blood ran a rancid brown, it would produce the same material. He'd noticed such with Reiss, and how her rotting skin became fresh after processing it through the same mortar and pestle. His plan to renew her would have worked if he'd known more about nerves and the like. Who would have known about that, anyway?
He rolled his eyes as he scraped off the bowl-shaped instrument again, dropping its contents into the jar with a wet plop. He set the mortar and pestle down, then, collected his blade, and severed another cut of meat from the rotting Druskai with a flick of his wrist. Deciding to save some time, he took the opportunity to cut up even smaller chunks and totally tore the cadaver to pieces. It ran the stink of decay in the small flood of brown blood around the epicenter. He could only be thankful that the heart wasn't beating, and the bleeding was only by cause of gravity.
Another scrap of rotting meat was thrown to the mortar and pestle, and he began to grind it again. The purpose of Sinew Foam was to replicate the organic material it first made physical contact with, which was to say it could replicate bones, muscle, skin, hair, nails, eyes, and much more. Curiously, it did not turn to glass when he poured it in the jar, and it didn't turn to the metal lids that Raphael had commissioned to be custom-made. 'Probably because glass and iron aren't biological', he thought. That trait made it so that Sinew foam could be stored for later use, which Arkash thought was clever. Even so, he hated standing there, just grinding up meat. But what did he expect when he was made the Necromancer's assistant? He was at least well-fed, he supposed. And any cuts of meat that didn't look completely rotten were at least a kind snack.
By the time he'd complete the fourth jar and started on the last, the heavy iron door opened, and Arkahs looked to the lamplight in the doorway. Raphael stood there in his morning attire, gloves adorned and neck covered. He was going out? "My favorite reptile!" The mage called eccentrically. Arkash cringed.
"Yes, my Veir?" He asked as he scraped off the sinew foam again. "I'm almost done. One jar left," he began to explain with a gesture of the tools he carried, but Raphael shook his head and waved a hand in response.
"Don't worry about that, the elf isn't going anywhere. I have a gift for you! Come along now, don't dally."
Arkash furrowed his brow. A gift? He almost didn't trust it. What on Atharen could Raphael possibly have planned? Uncertain, he cast leech on the blood that matted his clothes, and let the blight drop to the ground unused. He set the mortar and pestle down along with his gloves before he began to ascend the stairs, following up to walk through the door, which Raphael held open for him. "...Is it a surprise?" He asked, uncertain.
"Quite the surprise," the Veir returned.
"...So you won't tell me what it is then?"
"Well, no," the noble returned, and began to smile again. "That would defeat the purpose of a surprise, wouldn't it?" Smug, the noble led him through the fortress and out into the courtyard. Before he set foot out the gates, he put his mask on and pulled up a hood to cover his other features.
Arkash had to wonder if it was hot under that mask but didn't care too much. He followed the noble out the gate, further into the dryland, away from the fortress.
"Where are we going, for real, now?" Arkash asked after twenty minutes of walking in the sun. His basalt scales drank the heat well and loosened his muscles. Even so, he couldn't remain in the sun too long without water. Raphael knew that.
As if he'd read the rathor's mind, he produced a waterskin, and passed it to the lizard. Arkash looked to the noble with surprise but accepted the gift with careful claws. Was it drugged? "We're doing some more work on your blood magic. Enough time has passed since you last learned the Tier Three abilities. Let's see if you can handle Tier Four, otherwise known as 'Expert Abilities'," the mage declared with a nod. "You're feeling well, aren't you?"
Arkash swallowed a few gulps of the gifted water, then looked to the noble with a raised brow. "...I was a little thirsty, but I'm otherwise fine," he spoke in assurance. "I'll just leech a lot so that I don't overstep... If these ones are a bit more draining than the last."
Raphael nodded a bit with a grin. "They're certainly more destructive, and I think a bit more demanding on power... But yes, with leeching, you could theoretically perform all of them for free." The noble nodded, then squinted as he looked upon the horizon. "Being as destructive as they are, I opted to practice out in the open, away from walls and such. The dungeon repairs are almost complete, but I don't think we can so easily explain a second cave-in... Or a total collapse."
It made sense, Arkash nodded before he poured more of the water into his mouth, swirled it in his palette to distribute the coolness, then swallowed greedily. "Gotchya," he answered lately. "...So what am I practicing on?"
"Your next meal," the noble quickly replied, then looked to the Rathor with a knowing grin.
More prisoners, then. Arkash smiled at the idea. He knew they were fresh because there weren't any prisoners in the dungeons while he was working. That meant they were strong, that meant they were filling. With a little more bounce in his step, he continued on the path that Raphael guided him down.
Before long, they arrived at the scene; Five wooden posts had been erected, and to each of them, two Druskai were tied. Arkash could smell their strength from afar, the testosterone in their sweat. It ran shivers down his spine. Ascension was so close. But, the Halamire were gathered there. No doubt meant to transport the Druskai to the grounds. Six of them in total.
"Attention!" Raphael called as they entered the circle of posts. The Halamire stood up straight and saluted on the spot, robotic in their unison. Arkash furrowed his brow. "Form up in three ranks!" Came the next order, and the Halamire marched up in rows of three, extended their left arms, and positioned themselves accordingly. It was like clockwork to watch, Arkash stood impressed. There, Raphael produced his bag, then handed it to the Rathor in his company. His hood came down and his mask was removed. Raphael was red-skinned, sweaty underneath.
Arkash took the bag, then set it down. He faced the Halamire while they stood at attention, then looked at the Noble inquisitively. Raphael seemed to study their faces, as though he was trying to remember something.
"Rank one! Dismissed!" He called. The first column of soldiers turned sharply to their left, then marched three paces before they began to walk away, trudging through the wasteland in the direction of the fortress. Arkash watched them go... he couldn't help but flick his forked tongue as they left. "At ease," came the Veir's soft command, and the posture of the knights became a little laxer, but still in unison with the others. They were still in formation.
"I know the four of you are eager to be dismissed, to begin your retirement with your families and the like, but I wanted to take the time to thank you all for your services," the Veir began, then began to pace. "For your services to Ulen, to the Emperor, to the Pontifex himself. You have all served your duties to the letter, and your contributions to Daravin will never be forgotten... The four of you are an inspiration to the rest of us, of what hard work can achieve, and all the good it can do for the betterment of the people. Words alone cannot express my pride in you..." he continued, then came to a stop in his pacing to fully face them with both hands behind his back. Then, he gestured to Arkash with an open glove. "So, I offer you a chance at glory. Exterminate this vile blasphemer, who rejects Ulendreaism and all things we stand for in this proud nation. Sever his head and let the world know what becomes of those that do not bend the knee to his radiance!"
To be continued.
