It had been nearly one hundred years since he had knocked on someones door, but manners were not something he had let himself forget. And though it had been some time since he had seen the hearth temple of Builend it looked much the same as it always had; perhaps slightly more scorched in some places, but fire was a natural element in places like these and it was no surprise that someone might have been careless with it at some point. The nostalgia almost overshadowed his objective and he nearly forgot to knock at all.

Two strong, but not too strong, taps would do it. And they did. Within mere moments the latest in a long line of orc priestesses answered the door.

“You smell like death. What do you want?” Cheska growled at the strange elf in front of her. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, but something told her that that meant he was dangerous.

Theihdow attempted to smile but the expression didn’t quite come to fruition. “My apologies lady… Devo? Is that still the family line that keeps the hearth here?”

The question made the pieces of information Cheska was being presented with click into place, but she still had to be sure. “What’s your name then, since you know mine?”

“Are all hearth temples so inquisitive about their potential guests now?” Theihdow wasn’t entirely sure if this was a normal interaction or not, and his question was genuine. “Though if you must know my name, it is Theihdow. I am looking for a… an acquaintance.”

“So you are the vampire,” Cheska hummed. “And you’re looking for Flip?”

“Flip?”

“My brother?”

“Your brother?”

“Hammer my tongue…” Cheska groaned in frustration. “Faengil? The wizard? The one that nearly killed you in the wastes?”

Theihdow remembered vividly the attack that the priestess spoke of. “Yes, him. You call him Flip? He’s an orc?”

“He’s adopted.”

“That seems to explain everything.” The vampire attempted to grin again, but merely managed to reveal his fangs. “May I come in?”

Cheska narrowed her eyes at the elf in front of her and nodded slowly. “You can come in. But should you harm anyone here, your entry shall be revoked and Haemer will blast you from the face of this country.”

“I accept these terms.” The vampire nodded politely in agreement and then just as quickly pushed his way past the priestess.

There were only two other people within the main hall of the temple. An elf with a mixture of shorn hair and tribal braids, who seemed to be cooking something by the hearth. And the second person seemed to be even stranger, a human man sitting on a stool near the elf with a plate helmet on and no other armor. It took a moment for Theihdow to recognize Selian, but the second that the vampire laid eyes on the helmet he had to restrain himself from addressing its wearer as his friend.

“Where is Faengil?”

“Out back, working on a project he won’t tell us anything about.” Cheska grunted as she brushed past the vampire as unceremoniously as he had brushed past her. “He said he was waiting for someone to complete it, and I suppose that was you?”

“He didn’t prompt me to come… though I suppose he would expect my presence. I came to confirm the destruction of Helbrin Velsaffe.”

“He’s not dead.” Archimus answered loudly, causing Jimothy to twinge as the sound caught him off guard. “But he has been dealt with. Faengil dragged him to the obscure along with a heretofore undocumented demon.”

“So you have survived your time in the tombs, Archimus.” Thiehdow muttered. “I wondered for a moment if that helmet was nothing but a husk.”

“And what causes you to wonder that?” The helmet retorted.

“I ventured through the tomb after I felt strong magic and realized that I could enter without permission. I found traces of destruction, death, and your very own body strewn about.”

Thiehdow released his concentration to reveal a large canvas sack that he had carried into the temple with him. He had kept it concealed during his travels to avoid the greed of opportunistic travelers, preventing stray eyes from perceiving what it was he carried with him. The sack had once been the fabric of his tent, but its sacrifice had enabled him to transport much more than he had been capable of without it.

“What in the vast light is that?” Cheska exclaimed as the large parcel was revealed.

Rather than answer, Thiedow began to untie the cord that held his tarpaulin together and dig through the mess within. The vampire first produced a series of what appeared to be human bones, but the collected observers in the room quickly realized whose bones they were; they matched the ones that were stowed in the crate by the hearth perfectly. Then a number of books were produced, all well cared for and wrapped carefully in protective cloth. A number of other odd items were then produced and laid out carefully on the floor; a dagger with a jeweled hilt, a series of ornate rings, a thick braid of violet rope wound in a coil, and a satin lined hat with a pointed top and a wide brim. Finally, the very last clattering contents of the sack were laid out on the floor.

Jimthoy had turned to watch, though he still kept a close eye on his spear in case he needed to dart there at a moments notice. As Archimus watched the vampire lay out the scattered remains of his body, however, Jimothy could not withstand the relieved and excited humming that was echoing through the helmet that sat upon his head. Jimothy removed the helmet and held it out with his good hand so it could see the arrangement of plate armor on the floor before him.

“You have returned my body.”

“Affirmative.” Theihdow answered, a hint of sarcasm evident in his voice. “I am sure the damage can be repaired, likely here, but if you like you may attempt to reassemble yourself as you are.”

“Jimothy…” Archimus hummed. “Place my helmet on you head, hold your right hand to the temple and your left hand out towards the armor.”

Though Jimothy was unsure of exactly what would happen, the trust that had grown between him and Archimus in the short time they had been acquainted was enough to prompt the boy to do as requested. He placed the helmet back on his head, held his good hand to the temple and held out the stump of his other arm towards the armor on the ground. And though no spell was cast and no direct command given, the pieces of armor lifted off the ground and began to swirl around Jimothy. One by one they clamped themselves into place and cinched themselves tight to his figure. All except the gauntlet for the left hand; which, upon finding no hand clattered back to the floor. And as soon as Jimothy attempted to walk, he found that his peg leg was not fitted properly and the armored boot clattered to the ground as well. The rest stayed in place.

“Wow.” Jimothy whispered. He was overwhelmed by the strength that he felt well within him as Archimus moved with him and eased every motion into a near fluid movement that seemed to defy gravity.

“I have not felt whole in some time,” Archimus hummed. “And though I still feel the pain of decay in my body, it is refreshing to be able to relax it for once. I feel as though I have been clenching that beast into submission all this time.”

Thiehdow smiled—properly this time, his prior attempts had given him the practice he needed—and gave a nod of approval at the fully clad knight in armor before him. “It is a good fit. Your father would be proud.”

“Thank you.” Archimus and Jimothy answered in unison, though Jimothy quickly gathered that the comment was not meant for him.

Selian snickered at the mistake, but offered a gentle smile to the boy that had helped save her life. “It suits you, sir Tim.”

The name rang familiar for the vampire, but he resisted the urge to comment. He still had much work to do and he still had not spoken to his intended audience. “Lady Farwysher, I have no gift for you. Though if you like, you may lay claim to any of the rings I procured. They belonged to Archmage Gmid, but he has no use for them now.”

With a nod, Selian set aside the vegetables she had stopped cutting some minutes prior and ventured closer to inspect the jewelry.

“As for the bones of your friend, I do not know where they should be laid, but I assumed that you had taken the rest.”

There was a general nod towards the crate by the hearth, which Thiehdow understood easily enough.

“I will leave them as they are for now, then. And if you will excuse me, I must speak privately with Faengil.”

No one stopped the vampire as he made for the back door to the temple. The sound of a hammer clanging against metal had been penetrating the interior of the temple the whole time the vampire had been there. But with the back door open he could now properly see the source of the noise.

Flip was leaning over a small anvil with a small sledgehammer in one hand and a short pair of tongs in the other. There was a small piece of white hot metal being held to the anvil and stamped into a form that the vampire could not discern.

As soon as the door opened, Flip looked up from his work and Thiehdow immediately saw a different person than the wizard he had met in the pale wastes. The wizard’s beard had grown silver white around the roots, his bushy eyebrows had begun to silver as well, and his sparse hair seemed to be mimicking the same changes. But his face looked younger, less troubled, less worn. His brow was not so set, his eyes not so nervous. And it took the vampire a moment to notice that there was no longer a heavy cloud of psychic static swirling around the wizard’s head. If he had to guess the wizards age before, he might have said he was nearly eighty at the youngest. But now, Flip might have passed for fifty.

Beyond all the physical changes and the lack of otherworldly interference, there was something different about the wizard that Theihdow could not identify. And the mere fact that he could not troubled him.

“Thiehdow, you’ve finally made it. Did you bring the bones?”

“There’s something different about you, Faengil.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t like it.” Flip frowned. “Did you bring the bones?”

Thiehdow was uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than he had ever been in his hundreds of years of life. “I left them in the temple…”

“Good.” Flip nodded slowly as he picked the white hot metal up off the anvil with his bare hands and quenched it in a bucket of fluid. “I’m almost ready.”

“I never suspected you of necromancy.” Thiehdow said as he took a step back from the wizard. “That is what you plan to do with the bones… yes?”

“No.” Flip said with a mildly offended huff of air. “No. Look.”

The wizard gestured to a workbench under the awning of the forge and Thiehdow’s eyes followed.

“I’ve no intention of meddling with the forces of life and death!” Flip slapped his hand down on the workbench as he talked. “But we will need all the help we can get in the coming season. It will be a dark winter, and the spring to follow will be treacherous.”

Thiehdow ran a finger across the pile of tanned leather and metal bands on the workbench. The form was still obscured in the process of construction, but he saw the armor in progress. It would be silent and agile, but strong a heavy.

“He won’t like this.” Thiehdow muttered. “He’s too selfish to follow whatever design you’ve laid out for him.”

“And what if I tell him he can slay his murderer?”

“I know Dovhran only as well as I know you, but I felt his mind at work in the wastes,” Thiehdow said in a quiet and contemplative tone. “And I think that motivation might work too well.”