Razlok had to admit that they were incredibly curious about how Gwenllian planned to ingratiate this complete stranger to the Guild as a whole without revealing the whole deity thing.

It would certainly be easier to command respect and authority by means of their title, but that wasn’t really how Razlok preferred to socialize. They didn’t have to be friends with everyone, not necessarily, but they wanted to be thought of as a person first, not a figurehead of a theocracy.

Back to Gwenllian — would she tell half-truths? Omit certain details? Or, Auron-forbid, would she lie?

That sentiment amused Razlok.

They knew exactly how the world ended up conceptualizing Auron as the god of truth and honesty. When whispers of his name were paired with The Truth, Auron simply didn’t stop the rumors from spreading.

He was a god of knowledge and communication; nothing he ever conveyed on the subject indicated otherwise, nor did it specify that these concepts disallowed lying and falsehoods. If Razlok was thought of as mildly evil for their dualism, then Auron was more than a little naughty.

While Gwenllian and Razlok were conducting their supposed interview, a number of the Guild members had elected to leave the front hall.

It was mid-afternoon, more than an hour ago Razlok was just getting to know Silver. But an hour was a long time for people to grieve in public.

Eventually they needed to leave, to move to their own private spaces and adjust to this new, Auron-less world. Only ten minutes had passed between now and first speaking to Kian, but many tables and chairs were left empty.

The shock was fading, now the sorrow would linger. Even Silver seemed to move slowly behind the counter as he collected glassware to clean.

Predictably, Kian was resting exactly as they left her. She was more slouched now, prosthetic leg propped up on the low table and her head leaning against the back of the armchair. Razlok had sympathy for how much she must be aching, both literally and emotionally.

“Bangaram,” Gwenllian chided softly, with much affection in her voice. “You shouldn’t fall asleep there, or you will hurt your back.” She stepped to her friend’s side and squeezed Kian’s arm to rouse her.

Kian opened her eyes with a sheepish look toward Gwenllian, who was older than her by only a few years.

Then the Seat of Earth caught sight of Razlok and toughened her gaze in the presence of a stranger.

The Dark Deity was none the wiser, thinking about the pet name Gwenllian used. The divines inherently knew all languages, and Auron knew all written language.

Razlok could easily parse the meaning of bangaram. Gold, a precious thing to be treasured. The two Seats were close companions too, it seemed.

“I spoke to Razlok,” the shorter woman said, leaning her hip against the armchair and speaking casually to Kian. Such a stark contrast to her initial rigidity, when the unknown about Razlok was still a tense topic.

“They are more than capable of repairing your leg and I expect they can finish the task today.” That would be a great relief to Kian, if possible.

”Thank the Divines,” Kian murmured, her attitude toward the stranger softening instantly. She directed her words towards Razlok, this time: “Or, I’ll thank you, rather.”

Same thing, Razlok mused silently, as Gwenllian avoided looking their way.

The Seat of Water cleared her throat and continued, half-truths flowing readily from her tongue. “Our new friend is being quite humble, actually. I request that Razlok be allowed to stay for a few days, Kian. They have skills in arcane systems that Elias would find helpful, if not fascinating.”

She leaned closer to Kian to whisper; the reclining woman pushed herself upright to hear the forthcoming secret. “You saw how distraught Elias was, yes? And Rose, too. I think Razlok would get along well with them both. A benefit and a distraction while we wait for Auron.”

Razlok pretended not to hear this part of the conversation, fishing around inside their waistcoat for a small roll of tools which materialized at their convenience.

Hearing the soft-spoken conversation wasn’t a matter of the fiction of blindness somehow strengthening other senses, no. It was a careful application of sound magic while the two women were whispering, as if Razlok turned up a hearing aid momentarily.

Soon, Kian was back to normal volume, gesturing at her lower half as she reclined. “How do you want me?”

The deity blinked behind their glasses, face blank, as their divine knowledge of languages processed the slang. Oh, she was asking what to do in order to facilitate Razlok’s work. Right. Of course.

“I think I can work as ye are if I kneel–” This clarification was failing to get Razlok’s mind out of the gutter. “–but would it hurt if ye propped up the leg on a chair?”

Razlok paused, thinking a little quicker now that the subject had thoroughly moved on to work and work alone. “Hrm, better solution.”

They dropped to a kneeling position irreverently, carpet padding their fall.

Regardless of how old they looked, Razlok didn’t suffer from bad joints or worn cartilage since they didn’t age, and with their domain over physical actions, they were as lithe and robust as someone in the prime of their youth. It only added to their impulsive, sometimes reckless nature.

“Touch,” they warned Kian before their hand gently grasped the woman’s thigh close to her knee. They held her leg up a little for easier access to the panel on the prosthetic’s socket.

Prior to the invention of arcano-mechanical prosthetics, there were devices that were constructed much more simply. A socket for the limb, various joints or hinges, a shank or two that paralleled bone, a prosthetic foot or hand that closely resembled the shape of their fleshy counterpart.

They functioned as they should, and Razlok was sure Kian still owned a simpler device, just in case of situations like this. But the arcano-mechanics felt more natural in how their connections mirrored human bodies, in how they connected directly to the nerves and responded.

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The socket was bound to Kian’s thigh, and it was engaged with and locked to the prosthetic itself, which began from the knee downward.

Razlok fished two tools out of their case, holding one between their teeth while they used the other much like a lockpick, slotting it in a hitch between two parts that functioned as a keyhole.

After a practice motion, there was a click and Razlok could feel binding between the prosthetic and the socket disengage.

The deity was fully focused on the task at hand which meant the world around them could have been non-existent for all they knew.

They had narrowed their magical perception in on this prosthetic and nothing else. It allowed them to perceive every single component all at once, but functionally shut out Razlok’s ability to pay attention to their surroundings.

They could still hear, of course. Gwenllian remained nearby. There were others in the front hall, talking but too distant to understand. Kian was quiet, likely watching Razlok work. Nothing important needed the deity’s attention other than this repair.

“Bear with the weird motion; it’ll be quick.”

This particular angle was not the best for doing this repair work. Ordinarily, the patient would be on some form of gurney or a specially outfitted chair.

But, Razlok could work with it, and it would be weird for a moment, as promised.

See, the issue was that if they disengaged the other side of the socket’s locking mechanism, the leg would fall to the floor.

Which would be both rude and bad.

But the deity only had two hands. Even using metal magic to hold the prosthetic leg in place would be dicey, as it might bend or damage the socket as Kian’s leg was removed.

So… Razlok ducked under Kian’s raised leg, propping the bent knee of the prosthetic on their shoulder and quickly using the same tool to find and disengage the bindings.

Since Razlok was leaning forward, the leg simply rested along their back while the deity dealt with the arcane components between the socket and outlet of the prosthetic.

There were no remaining hinges, but the unlocked bindings had revealed a compartment that held the lightning crystal that powered most of the leg and the glowing arcane pathways that stretched through the empty space to connect human to machine. Razlok memorized the structure of the magic before dispelling it.

They were able to sit up now, letting the prosthetic roll off their back and catching it against their side with their elbow. “There we go,” they muttered around the tool in their mouth.

Very carefully, they shifted a guard cage out from around the lightning crystal so it could be removed as well.

They heard Kian exhale, as if she was holding her breath. The, uh, awkwardness of what just happened was not lost on Razlok, but the deity had been far too busy to focus on that.

Besides, if Razlok was honest, having their head between someone’s legs wasn’t all that embarrassing for them.

“Apologies, but now I can use the table instead ae hindering ye.”

Razlok set about this task, shuffling to the low table near Kian to lay out the prosthetic and disassemble the entire thing for a check-up.

They crossed their legs and got to work, only speaking to make a request or two. Gwen still lingered, so Razlok had her take the lightning crystal to the dark shrine. It would charge there, the deity asserted.

When she returned, Razlok overheard some phrases about arranging for a room for the engineer while Kian was more or less stuck and Razlok was preoccupied.

The Seat of Earth and the deity didn’t speak after that, not for some time.

By the time Razlok heard conversation restart, they had pored through and tested every arcane pathway, every joint, and every individual piece of metal for issues. It didn’t seem like the prosthetic itself was causing issues.

It had been well-maintained, which given that there was light magic lingering across the outer surfaces of the leg, Razlok could only presume the longevity of this prosthetic was due to warding magic from Kian. It was a specialty of Earth magic, to create barriers that prevented or limited access by certain things or people.

To place that magic over a potentially fragile prosthesis was genius.

Eventually a question was directed at Razlok, from Kian. “How… are you able to do that?”

“Do what?” the deity questioned, tilting their head to the side to hear her better. They let their perception spill out away from the prosthetic, flowing to the right and behind them.

To Razlok’s surprise there were three people present now. Shit, they’d really been focused. Too focused.

The third person was Itto, the Seat of Metal. The man had pulled up a chair to watch the proceedings.

Of course, he had.

Razlok the pretend human was showing some incredible aptitude for lightning and metal magic as they tested out the prosthetic’s parts, it was natural for Itto to be curious.

Gwenllian was perched on the armchair, her slight frame balancing easily next to Kian. She had something in her palm, something metallic and magic. A key? She said something about finding a room for Razlok, right?

“An audience? Sorry I wasnae putting on a better show.” Razlok kept reassembling the mechanisms as they listened to the trio, thinking that maybe they should pay more attention.

“That. Exactly that.” It was Kian asking, and she seemed terribly perplexed. “How do you- you’re not even looking.”

Razlok had to think about what she even meant, though they came to the realization eventually, just after a lingering silence and a lot of confusion.

Their face and gaze wasn’t directed at their hands or the places they were working on. Sighted people would have been watching because they were reliant on their eyes. But Razlok’s perception wasn’t based on visual cues but spatial ones.

They didn’t have to face anything to perceive it.

(To Kian, the whole ordeal had been wildly weird to watch. Even when Razlok was removing her prosthesis, they hadn’t once looked at what their hands were doing. The dark-tinted glasses only made it look like they were staring dead ahead, sometimes at Kian, sometimes at a wall.)

“Oh,” Razlok replied bluntly, halting their motions to think clearer. “Uh, right. I cannae see. Functionally blind.”

Kian let out her own little oh of acknowledgement, while Itto shifted his weight forward, clearly intrigued. The awkwardness only continued as Kian found holes in Razlok’s explanation.

“You said you saw me limping.”

Yes. That was the thing that Razlok said. The problem with lying was remembering to fill in the graves you’d dug.

“Mhm. Magic.”

There were some sounds that Razlok assumed was either acceptance or the Seats being confused, but the deity took charge of the situation and unsubtly changed the subject.

“Right, so about the arcano-mechanics. The machine itself is fit. All parts are in place. Yer wards do good work. If that’s the case, the last option is reset the arcane pathway fae your leg to the interface. Does that make sense?”

An answer didn’t come immediately, so Razlok continued to reassemble the prosthetic itself.

Itto chimed in, in a way that Razlok had to guess meant Kian looked to the Seat of Metal for answers.

“There is magic that causes your prosthetic to react to your thoughts when you want your leg to move.”

Itto gestured toward Razlok seated on the floor in front of him. “They cannot find any flaws or failures in the mechanical components themselves, so their conclusion is that the magic needs to be redone.”

Razlok nodded along, finishing up the reassembly swiftly. They’d always liked Itto. It was easy to like a man who prayed at the Dark Shrine daily and had done so for more than a decade.

The Seat of Earth let out an aggravated sound, and even Razlok turned their head to face her.

“Sorry. It’s- I remember that process hurting. Lightning shooting up my leg.”

“Aye,” Razlok confirmed as Gwenllian soothed the frustrated Kian with a touch on her shoulder. “It’ll hurt again. It’s minor surgery. But, if ye are still with me, I can do it as quickly I’m able. No tonight, though. If the leg hurt earlier, it’s likely tae be inflamed. Tomorrow, then?”

“We’ll make plans tomorrow,” Gwenllian cut in, not letting Kian second guess herself. “After breakfast.”

She stood and brought something from another part of the room. Razlok had to play a guessing game, as the thing was entirely mundane and the deity was running out of energy to spread around, but it was probably a wheelchair.

“Itto, do you mind showing Razlok to a room?” Gwenllian tossed the key she held to the Seat of Metal, who caught it easily.

It was a process to get Kian into the wheelchair, but soon enough she was holding the prosthetic, and the pair left the front hall together.

Razlok began uncrossing their legs to stand, grumbling as one foot turned out to be asleep. They felt a hand on their shoulder to help balance them as they shook it out. Itto.

The Dark Deity had a great fondness for this man, and it was going to be a task not to express those feelings openly. At least, not while Razlok pretended to be a stranger in the Guild.