“Would you kindly set out a tea service for our guests. I’ll have a cup of the Hemwick black, and I believe we can serve our guests the Ulan green, yes?” the Lady Blackwicke waved the girl away when she was done.
“Yes, miss,” the maid turned and walked back toward the serving room nestled off the brief hallway that led into the library.
“The Hemwick black is a bit harsh, but it has a heavy kavv content, much like elderblack, though not quite as bitter” she smiled. “You’re welcome to try it, but I think you’ll prefer the Ulan.”
“Your hospitality is much appreciated. Would it be possible to speak of business now?” Rory asked her.
The young woman’s expression soured almost imperceptibly, but it was instantly replaced with an indulgent smile.
“I shall never understand the impatience of Hunters, but I shall also never grow tired of the great verve you all seem to possess. What business would you like to address, Master Poole? And since I have been remiss as a hostess, would you kindly introduce your companions?” she replied.
Layla: That big dude in armor puts on a diving suit and a drill and I’m out of here.
Erin: Shh, you’ll spoil the twist ending where the old man turns out to be… he’s not really the good guy, is he?
Jack: He is not.
Rory: He is not.
The two shot each other a quick glance and shared a subtle smile, which Rory noticed the Lady Blackwicke didn’t miss, but was too polite to comment about.
“We need the services of a stitcher,” Rory announced.
“I prefer the proper name for my specialty, Mast-” the Lady Blackwicke’s arrogant response died, stillborn, on her lips, as Jack pulled back the hood of his cloak.
Her eyes widened, fingers clutching the edge of her chair, then she rose with none of the decorum she had demonstrated up until now. She took two faltering steps, then rushed to where Jack sat and took his face in her hands.
“Signs above and Depths below…” she whispered. “Night Eye of the Sepulchre.”
A black pattern of Night mana flared briefly, turning the Lady’s eyes the same stygian black as Jack’s, then she turned his head to look at the good eye. Finally, she pulled the patch off his face, murmuring to herself as she went.
“Magnificent. Self-reinforcing mana pattern converts ambient mana into Night aspect. Conversion penalty rate is the lowest I’ve ever seen. Standard daylight aversion. No notable weakness to fire. Marvelous. Some new species. Or perhaps an old one. Pattern damage here. Some galvanizing already worked. We’ll have to compensate for that when we rebuild the corpus.”
She suddenly turned to Rory, “Where did you learn the spell to raise this?”
Jack slowly, but firmly, grasped Vysanna’s hands in his own.
“I’m awakened, thank you,” he didn’t smile.
The Lady of the house looked down at Jack, with a dawning expression of horror.
“Oh, Depths,” her hands dropped away, then clutched themselves over her stomach.
The Chosen watched as several thoughts passed over the Lady Blackwicke’s face, each one apparently horrifying her more than the last. She fell to her knees, her hands on the floor and her head down.
“I beg your forgiveness, dark one. My father will be home soon. He can negotiate whatever recompense you feel is appropriate for my violation of your person,” she gasped out.
“I’m not a noble from the Necropolis, Vysanna. I just came here to see if you’d fix my eye,” Jack replied.
Her head shot up, meeting Jack’s eye. She took in the nightbringer’s smirk, and an expression of slighted rage washed across her delicate features.
“How DARE Y-” she started.
“No. How dare YOU,” Erin pushed into Vysanna’s space, forcing the smaller woman back. “We come to you for help, and you manhandle my partner, insult him like he’s some piece of furniture, then when it turns out you’re not in THE DEEPEST SHIT IMAGINABLE, YOU WANNA GET BITCHY?!”
The armored giant took several steps toward the two women, and a crimson wash of power flooded out of Erin, pushing Vysanna back a step.
“You wanna fuckin’ go, tin man?” she stared up at the giant as it continued to close on her.
“Devrahn, stop,” Vysanna called, and the armored creature froze mid-step. “Go back to the fireplace.”
They watched the warrior walk back to his previous place and resume his position.
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“It’s an undead, isn’t it?” Jack nodded at the warrior.
“Yes, my bonded servant, a death knight. Devrahn was one of my father’s most loyal friends. He requested his body be allowed to continue to protect our family for as long as possible, so I raised him and took him as my familiar,” her expression was wistful.
“I… am sorry… to all of you. Our father has raised academics that do their best to behave as nobles, but curiosity and fervor are ever the enemies of decorum,” she looked down at the floor.
“Damn right you are,” Erin huffed, then collapse back into her chair.
“It’s fine. Can you fix my eye?” Jack asked.
“Of course. It is a trifle, really, though it would have been even easier if someone had not galvanized the flesh already,” she replied.
She seemed to hesitate, then curiosity and fervor overcame decorum once again.
“If... I may be so rude… what is your species? I have never seen your kind,” she asked timidly.
“Nightwraith. They were apparently pretty much wiped out by the Brothers,” Jack replied.
“Nightwraith… Do you remember anything about your first life? How you were raised?” she pushed on.
“Yes, and yes, but I’m not prepared to share that,” he frowned.
“Ah, I understand. Thank you… for your patience. And once again, my deepest apologies for taking liberties with your person,” she made a shallow bow.
“It’s fine. What do you need for this?” he gestured to his face.
“The process will likely be painful. We can retire to my lab if you wish?” she looked at the door to the library and suddenly started.
“Roshana, how long have you been standing there?!” she exclaimed.
“Since you were begging for forgiveness, my lady?” the girl replied, her face carefully absent any expression.
Vysanna looked like she had some choice words in response to that, but she held her tongue and turned back to Jack.
Rory: Did you hear her come in?
Jack: No, I didn’t even smell her. But I smell the tea now.
Erin: Super weird.
Layla: I’m gonna have tea.
Layla bounced up and walked over to the maid.
“Roshana, right? Could I have a cup, with sugar? And cream, if you have it,” she smiled at the maid, with just a touch more eye contact than was really necessary.
“Of course, miss. I’ll bring it to you,” the girl set the tray down and began pouring the cups.
“I’ll pass on the laboratory, Vysanna. We can just do it here, if that’s alright,” Jack resumed the previous conversation.
“Very well. Please remove your armor and your tunic. We will likely spill a good deal of ichor during the process. Devrahn, fetch some linens from the serving room, please,” she smiled indulgently at the giant warrior.
The plated giant stomped to the library door and disappeared for a moment, then returned with a handful of towels. Vysanna laid several out on the floor in a square pattern.
“Please lie here, then use this one to cover your chest,” she gestured.
“Is it really necessary for him to strip in here,” Erin glowered at her.
“No, but I assumed he would not wish to travel back to Moryven covered in ichor. It tends to disturb the common folk,” she replied.
“It’s fine, Erin,” he smiled at her and began to unbuckle his armor.
She walked over and helped him undress, then kissed him on the cheek and patted his butt as he walked toward the layer of towels on the library floor.
Jack winced as a beam of uninterrupted sunlight passed across his skin, but when he passed under one of the crosswalks, the shadow momentarily revealed the drumbeat pulse of his dark heart. The Lady Blackwicke sucked in a surprised breath.
“Magnificent,” she stared, until Jack passed out of the shadow and made to lay down.
Erin huffed, and the sound of her gauntlets crunching together echoed through the library.
“We can move the towels if you’ll be more comfortable,” Vysanna hastily offered.
“That would be great, thanks,” Jack replied.
They shifted the makeshift bedroll a few feet, then Jack laid down. Vysanna knelt at his head and began to channel dark mana, gloom filling the room’s shadows and seeming to dim the sunlight filtering in through the great skylight.
“This will almost certainly be exceedingly unpleasant,” she explained.
“I’m ready,” he replied and closed his eye, readying himself.
“Greater Mortuous Reconstruction,” she invoked, and the pattern of Night mana that had been building between Vysanna’s hands rushed into Jack’s body.
The leather of Jack’s gauntlets creaked as his fists tightened, and the muscles of his jaw and neck bunched and writhed under the skin. A nearly inaudible grunt escaped from his clenched teeth.
The other Chosen watched as the flesh of Jack’s face softened, like melting wax, before flowing together, streaming with glowing lines of black mana. Black ichor poured from the wound, and from Jack's eyes and nose. Vysanna’s hands moved in subtle patterns, directing first the fractured bone beneath the skin to mend itself, then the flesh of the face and eyelid to flow together, perfect and unharmed, and finally for the tenebrous black orb of Jack’s eye to regenerate, as dark and deep as it was before he was maimed.
As the mana faded, he blinked both eyes, clearing away the black blood.
“Whew… that was… well, it beats getting my leg set on fire, but not being disintegrated and rebuilt from scratch,” he groaned and pulled himself upright.
“I’m sorry… disintegrated?” the Lady Blackwicke quirked an eyebrow.