To magi-kind, the sharing of information had always been vital to the furthering of their craft. Asrael and Thomas, alike, could name the magi who had presented the research behind every letter of the Alphabetica Demonicae and the ones who had construed the basic outlines of runes had been known to all- magi and non-magi alike.

The two magi staring at one-another from across the table were, however, of a different breed of magicians- a new generation. Spells such as the ones fueling them both were precious beyond gold and glory- their lives depended on it, after all. Revealing this information would put them in harm’s way, should the other party decipher and decide to counter the magic currently animating the other.

Asrael used his thumb to crack his index finger and pondered aloud: “Your rosy cheeks tell me that you are still alive. I take it you’ve found some concoction or snake-oil to at least make it appear as if you are still young?” Thomas’ apprentices were as varied in their reactions as Asrael’s own. Nota responded by glaring, whereas Marlena seemed to enjoy the mild-mannered prod.

Thomas- still smiling that infuriating, slight smile, leaned forwards on his hands and chuckled. “And you, I take it, are not?” Bastard! Again, he had succeeded in fooling Asrael- without having truly ever asked.

“I-I never said that. Fine... then I suppose we will have to keep our secrets to ourselves. On the topic of secrets...” Asrael looked down at the fine, reflective table, before looking up at the equally impressive chandelier. He continued: “You certainly seem to have done well for yourself. Tell me, Thomas- how is it that you are allowed to flaunt your wealth, power and magic, when the rest of us are put to a stake if the Inquisition ever find out about our nature?” Aside from Thomas’ apprentices, none were surprised with the off-handed question, including the Alchemist, himself.

With a forced, solemn expression, Thomas responded: “It has not been easy- despite appearances. We may appear free, but we are, in essence, as restrained as any other prisoner. We have no choice but to serve the Emperor and the Inquisition- as I expected they would of you, should the find you.” Asrael expelled a bitter scoff. He had not expected truth from his nemesis’ lips, but an outright lie- as if he would ever fall for such a thing, was inexcusable.

“Then you must have forgotten when they carried me through the city as the uneducated, foolish masses flung feces at me.” Asrael stood from his seat to glare over at his companion.

“You must have forgotten when they burned my Master- when they burned them all...” Asrael coldly cocked his head and paused, before bitterly snapping the air and continuing: “Oh, how forgetful of me. When their fat fed the raging fires- when their eyes popped with the conversion of vitreus to steam, you were nowhere to be seen... Tell me, Thomas, where were you hiding when they killed us all?” Asrael’s companions all looked up at him with wide eyes- somehow still surprised with his lack of manners.

Thomas looked down on the table and sighed. He leaned forwards on his elbows and stared into his palms- nodding. “You are not wrong, brother. I scampered and hid. At the first sign of trouble, I ran, but please believe me when I say that I have been looking back ever since. I know what happened and ever since that day, I have questioned whether I might’ve done things differently- whether I could have helped calm the Inquisition and have spared us this fate.” Nota reached over to lovingly rub her Master’s back and glare at Asrael. She spoke:

“If you had not chosen that day for your fiendish display, then Master Thomas would have presented his method first.” Asrael blinked in silence. There were precious few in the room who knew the ramifications of this scheduling-error, but Asrael was quick to piece it together. Whatever was keeping Thomas alive could, potentially, have been ready- already back then. If the alchemical wonder had been presented on the eve of Asrael’s slip-up, then-

“Nota, please... Asrael. Let us not dwell on the past. What is done is done and there is nothing we can do about it...” Thomas shone a hopeful smile over towards his open-mouthed, staring companion. Neda had never seen her beloved necromancer in this state- the shock and regret had truly overwhelmed him. The alchemist stood up from his seat and bowed down low with a plea: “Please, old friend. Let us go forth- together- and we let bygones be bygones.”

Asrael was unable to move- his every muscle and joint were frozen still. If Thomas spoke the truth, then he had truly damned his own kind to exist in this shell of existence- he and he alone was guilty... and all because he had-

Asrael swallowed and turned on his heel. “Cease your dramatics, Thomas... you seem to be doing well without me. Come. We are leaving.” He had only taken a single step forward, when he heard Thomas’ hurried footsteps behind him. A strong, heavy hand landed atop his shoulder and urged him around, where he looked into the glistening eyes of his academic nemesis. The alchemist pleaded through his forced smile: “P-please. Your companions- you, must be exhausted from your trip. You will not make it far out there in the dark- at least spend the night here, with us. You may make use of the facilities as you will- you are free to wander, just... do not leave. Please.” Asrael narrowed his eyes. Suspicion scratched at the back of his mind like nails to Yurgen’s chalkboard, yet-…

Asrael had to regain his focus. He had been caught for a reason- he was seeking knowledge. The very same knowledge that stood stacked in the tall shelves surrounding their table...

“Why are you so desperate for us to stay? Are you going to send word to Capita so that Gustav and the Emperor can come fetch me for themselves? Is that your ploy?” The desperation in Thomas’ eyes as he tightened his grip on Asrael’s shoulders revealed that, if nothing else, he was passionate about having him as a visitor. The alchemist’s black tail of hair slapped Asrael across the cheek as Thomas spat on the floor and shouted: “Fuck Gustav! Fuck the Emperor- Asrael, we are the only two left! You are my oldest friend- I cannot, in good conscience, let you go out there and be eaten by the creatures in the mist. P-please... all I ask is that you stay here and grace my ears with tales of old- if only for the night.”

Unless Gustav’s arrogance had changed, cursing him in such a manner would’ve landed anyone an execution. Asrael wished to leave- to be alone, where he could think and inevitably rationalize how it was Thomas and not he who had been at fault for the doom that had been cast upon their kind. To everyone’s surprise, Neda stood up in support of the alchemist to fold her arms and demand: “Well, I’m not going anywhere until we’ve eaten together. You said you would, remember!?”

He met her icy glare over Thomas’ shoulder and felt a moment’s discomfort. Thankfully... the wild, lusty blightlander had a way of grounding him, when he needed it the most.

“Fine. Fine! We will stay the night, but only if you find my busty-… partner... something less white!” He raised an accusing finger towards his companion’s chest and saw a relieved smile creep across Thomas’ lips.