Asrael had listened intently to Thomas’ study of the Capitan Rift. He had innumerable questions, but found that it soured his tongue to imagine asking Thomas for anything. Still... he had little choice but to lean back on his chair and question:

“And are you certain the Arch Magus’ spell opened the Rift? Who’s to say it was not already open?” Thomas raised an eyebrow and saw right through the question beyond the question.

“This world cannot be compared to the one we lived in before the opening of the Rift, old friend. Magics are pouring forth from Capita to revitalize our world. The other hypothesis pertains to the Rift somehow being suppressed by magic, but not even the Ancients had such power. No- Yurgen opened it, undoubtedly.” Asrael knew as much as there was to know of the Rifts- his Master had studied them and insisted on teaching him all that he knew, after all.

Asrael motioned his hand calmly through the air as he spoke: “Your claims are, however, preposterous. Only Demons and their ilk can exist within the Rifts and they cannot walk our realm.” Thomas hummed a laugh and shrug.

“I never saw it, myself. But I am told it was a being beyond our understanding- construed of human-like bodies, writhing and protesting as it walked-” Asrael’s eyes shot wide-open- he sat forwards on his chair. He had heard of monsters such as those before- he had seen them in the mirror. Before Thomas could question this curious reaction of his, a set of hurried footsteps broke the comfortable silence and from the hallway, they could hear Marlena’s voice: “Master! Master, we’ve received a communique per bird.”

The confident sadist that had led Asrael to his bedchamber earlier had transformed. Her feet moved hurriedly, her lips had contorted into a frown and in both her hands, she carried a golden envelope reverently. Asrael’s stomach churned as he lay his eyes on the red paint atop the letter- the symbol of the Pyre, complete with a Demonic form.

“Not now, Marlena- I-…" As soon as Thomas saw the envelope, his demeanor changed. It seemed to Asrael that, despite his skill and apparent stature, he was still little more than a dog to the Inquisition. Thomas grabbed the letter from Marlena’s hands and hurriedly opened it to read its contents with a grave expression- seemingly irked by the contents.

“Well, this is most unfortunate... Titus Sargerrei has fallen sick with an unknown ailment. Magical in nature, by the sound of it... It will require my attention, but-…" He looked up from the paper wistfully to stare at Asrael.

The Necromancer- now aware of what needed to be done, shrugged and offered: “Well, then. It seems the ones holding your lead requires your air. What then, will Thomas- ever the obedient pup, do?” Despite his goading, Thomas smiled a genuine grin and chuckled.

“Your disapproval aside, old friend, I remind you that I am still alive in a world where most magi have been hunted to near-extinction. Naturally, they require my aid...” Thomas laid the letter down in his lap and bit the inside of his cheek ponderously. Asrael knew the man well enough to know that he was displeased, but as was usual for Thomas, he took it with a stride and continued: “A shame, as I was hoping we could get to work immediately. It would be... difficult... to bring you to Capita. Your death was highly symbolic of this new world of ours- I do not believe the High Inquisitor would look kindly on your continued existence.” Asrael waved the man off nonchalantly.

“I have no intention of meeting Gustav for anything other than to kill him, but it is not yet the time for it. I’ve my own work to do before that day comes... But your offer of co-dependency intrigues me. It is something we will have to discuss in the future, once we both return here.” Asrael failed to see jerk of Thomas’ hand that signaled his disapproval. Instead, he saw only the forced smile:

“O-oh, please, Asrael. There is no need to leave here- I will be gone for three weeks, at most. You may stay here and make use of all our facilities- I insist.” Asrael raised a flat palm.

“That will not be necessary. I and my companions have work to do, elsewhere. We’ve plans in Skum that cannot be delayed.” He neglected to tell his ancient colleague that these plans were made as recently as the beginning of their conversation.

Thomas was displeased and he allowed it to show, but in the form of a forced melancholy. “I wish you would grant me some more time with you, old friend. I cannot allow you to leave- not so soon. Perhaps, if your study permits it, you will return when I do? As I said, we’ve much to exchange, surely you must see it, too?” Asrael drummed his fingers against the armrest. The thought of being alive again had some merritt. For one, he would not be so dependent on Neda’s heat, but that aside... he would also be more confident with his durability if he had an extra life to go on. Actively producing bodily fluids like tears and saliva was becoming tiresome.

“I will consider it. My-… partner... seems to enjoy your palace. Besides, I’ve yet to find out why they allow you to live. When the opportunity permits it... I will hear their reasoning.” Thomas seemed relieved to hear it and neatly folded the letter back into the pocket of his robe. A whisper from out in the hallway signaled that the conversation had come to an end and a new- far more tiresome process was about to take place. Marlena recovered from her indignancy to straighten her back and assume her beautiful smile once more- her teeth a white, shining beacon in the dim study’s lanternlight.

She playfully informed: “Dinner... is served.”