Necromancer had seen the room many times before and was not
impressed. “First you disturb my work with that imbecile you sent
to fetch me,” he called out. “Then I come all the way over here to
find out just what insignificant thing has you disturbed, and you
are hiding in steam you created yourself. Waste no more of my
time, Master.” He turned to leave.
“I don’t believe I like that tone of voice,” said a man through
the mist. The sounds of water sloshing back and forth in a bath
echoed through the room.
“What difference does my tone make?” Necromancer barked.
“No one said I am required to be polite to you. Now get on with
your reason for bringing me here.”
“Come closer.”
Necromancer drew nearer to the voice until its origin came into
view. In the largest bath of all sat a man of great size being washed
by several female servants in the water and out. In all, there were
six of them cleansing the man.
Though a broad man, he did not appear extraordinarily
muscular. He had perhaps 10 years, several inches and many
pounds on Linvin. The weight was not well distributed. It
concentrated in his belly, which was decorated with stretch marks.
A large and hideous scar highlighted the region. It was indeed
Lord Mandrean the 13th.
“Are you sure you have enough women to bathe you?”
Necromancer asked sarcastically.
“Actually, one of my servants is not here. She is with child. But
the baby will be here soon. It will not be long before she returns to
my service.”
“I’m sure she would be moved by your excitement at becoming
a father…again. Your concern for her is indeed moving. And your
Grace continues to demonstrate his concern by bouncing back
quickly from such a troubled heart.”
Mandrean was visibly angered by Necromancer’s attitude
toward the transgression. He gestured for his bathers to leave and
spoke once they were gone. “You are a fine one to lecture me on
such things. My concubines mean as little to me as all of humanity
does to you. I will forgive your insolent tone for I have business to
discuss,” Mandrean sneered.
Necromancer found the statement to be humorous in the way
one would when being scolded by a witless child. He did not point
that out, however, as he chose his battles wisely and saw nothing
to gain from an exchange of barbs.
“What can I do to be of service, Sire?”
impressed. “First you disturb my work with that imbecile you sent
to fetch me,” he called out. “Then I come all the way over here to
find out just what insignificant thing has you disturbed, and you
are hiding in steam you created yourself. Waste no more of my
time, Master.” He turned to leave.
“I don’t believe I like that tone of voice,” said a man through
the mist. The sounds of water sloshing back and forth in a bath
echoed through the room.
“What difference does my tone make?” Necromancer barked.
“No one said I am required to be polite to you. Now get on with
your reason for bringing me here.”
“Come closer.”
Necromancer drew nearer to the voice until its origin came into
view. In the largest bath of all sat a man of great size being washed
by several female servants in the water and out. In all, there were
six of them cleansing the man.
Though a broad man, he did not appear extraordinarily
muscular. He had perhaps 10 years, several inches and many
pounds on Linvin. The weight was not well distributed. It
concentrated in his belly, which was decorated with stretch marks.
A large and hideous scar highlighted the region. It was indeed
Lord Mandrean the 13th.
“Are you sure you have enough women to bathe you?”
Necromancer asked sarcastically.
“Actually, one of my servants is not here. She is with child. But
the baby will be here soon. It will not be long before she returns to
my service.”
“I’m sure she would be moved by your excitement at becoming
a father…again. Your concern for her is indeed moving. And your
Grace continues to demonstrate his concern by bouncing back
quickly from such a troubled heart.”
Mandrean was visibly angered by Necromancer’s attitude
toward the transgression. He gestured for his bathers to leave and
spoke once they were gone. “You are a fine one to lecture me on
such things. My concubines mean as little to me as all of humanity
does to you. I will forgive your insolent tone for I have business to
discuss,” Mandrean sneered.
Necromancer found the statement to be humorous in the way
one would when being scolded by a witless child. He did not point
that out, however, as he chose his battles wisely and saw nothing
to gain from an exchange of barbs.
“What can I do to be of service, Sire?”
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