Asrael looked down on his freshly clad body. It was no dark robe- not like the one he had proudly worn around the Tower to display his rank as the High Magus of the School of Necromancy... but it would do. His black shirt, black pants and most of all: the black, long coat served to calm him and remind him of his past glory- all it lacked was to have his school’s insignia embroidered into its front and back and he might as well have been wearing his robes again... but those days had long since passed. Those robes were meant for academics- magi whose pursuits had led them to a life of study, rather than manual labor- setting him apart from the peasantry and the plagued. Now, he wore a different garb that better suited his new life as a commander- a man of action, rather than study.

The cellar was darker than ever. The cobwebs in between the rafters were as full of hapless insects as they had been the first time he had stolen his way into its musty depths, yet... something in between the ancient, carved bricks was-… different. More homely, somehow. He looked down on the improvised table he had used for his studies. A pestle-and-morter, a stack of disorganized papers and scribbles- a pair of... he reached down to grab what appeared to be a piece of cloth in between his thumb and index finger. He raised it to the light of the shelved alembic’s flame and looked it over in between his hands. The piece of clothing was small- very small. It was scarcely more than two, see-through bands of silk bound together with a decorative pattern.

He threw a glance over towards his packaged clothing, but the receipt had spoken nothing of a hair-band or a belt- not that he would ever wear either if they looked like what he currently held in his hand. Against his better judgement, he brought it to his face to study it closer, but before he could sniff it, a voice spoke from under the dark stairs: “That’s... Neda’s underwear.” He had thought himself alone, first and foremost, but the sneaky child’s appearance was not, despite the looks of things, why he jerked backwards with terror and dropped the piece of clothing to the floor with a yelp.

“That lusty harlot- when next I get my hands on her I-” Before he could finish expressing his shock at this treasonous depravity, he saw the girl in his peripheral vision. Like him, she had opted for clothing herself in the black. As opposed to him, however, she had chosen what many would considered to be a lengthy dress- not at all unlike his earlier robes, but he imagined they would not serve the same purpose.

He rubbed his hands on his coat to clean the theoretical filth away and met her determined stare to say: “Good. Now, we both look presentable.” He took a step to the side to motion for his claimed desk, where something small and black lay atop a cleared surface amidst the clutter.

“Sit.” He ordered and took a step towards the shattered hole in their wall to glare into the darkness as she seated herself to look at-… a small, black, leather-bound book. She opened the first page and read; “Grimoira Eleanorae”. He nodded agreeingly- satisfied that she, as opposed to his other female slave, could at least read without applying her finger to the word. She continued flipping through the book with confusion to see that the first two pages had been filled with what appeared to be an alphabet of runes with short, one-worded explanations beneath the grid, whereas the rest of the book was blank.

“S-Sir... is... is this a journal?” Asrael jerked his head around to growl at her; “You can read, but it seems you’ve not the mind for retention! It is a grimoire, foolish girl! Any self-respecting academic should have one in which they track their teachings. This one initiates your training- it is the one in which you will note the basics. The second grimoire will be used to dive into a school of your choosing and the third is the one in which you will note your own creations.” What had been a notebook to her only a moment previous was now something far greater. Now, it was her gateway into another world- another life under Asrael. Her lips split apart into a teary grin as she looked back at the first page with excitement to study the many arcane words and-… four listed names. He stepped over behind her shoulder to look at the first page and explained;

“As I am the one overseeing your advancement, I am your Master. Yurgen- the name listed beyond my own, was my Master. As you can see, there is a name listed next to yours and although it pained me to do so-…” He grabbed for his forehead and sighed.

“She is a magus under my tutelage, as well... No, no, no! Why are you doing that!?” He shouted as he saw the tears running down her cheeks. She quickly raised her hand up to wipe away her tears and forced her grimace back under her control.

“I-I’m sorry... Master... please ignore it. I’m just...” He growled and nodded agreeingly- at least she understood that her weaknesses were better left ignored.

“Good. Then let us move on... we still have time before Kester and my men return, so our first lesson will begin. Magic- true magic is not the act of throwing shards of ice or flailing about metal. It is very much a discipline of intellect and it requires you to learn vast amounts of precision. The alphabet drawn on your first pages are syllables of the Demon tongues. You will study them- you will learn them by heart and there will be tests. They are the basics of all proper magic and what will ultimately transform your useless fleshmancy into something that may actually kill. You understand, yes?” She tremored with excitement atop her chair, but bit down her excitement with a jerking nod.

“Y-yes, Master. When-” A stern hand at her shoulder preceded a dark warning into her ear: “you begin now. You’ve the week to learn it. In between our work.” And so it was that she wordlessly grabbed the ink and quill to her left along with some of the empty papers atop the disorganized pile and began intermittently looking to her journal and the paper in turns, while Asrael took solace in some well-deserved silence.