Deal with Dylerun

Passing by Dylerun, the Adjudicator turns his gaze towards the blacksmith, a single gesture from underneath the cloak- it beckons to follow. After all, the things he was about to ask cannot be spoken about in public, not by any means.

"Come along, Dylerun."

"There's something I needed to ask you about."
(Arthur Rowan)

Soon he would understand why exactly this cannot be spoken about in public. Such things simply are best kept away from publicity, even if assuming that most of them wouldn't speak about it anywhere else - the secret that's about to be heard is a question of Life and Death, nothing else.

Or rather, the weakness for it.

"I'm unsure if Cho shared that with you or not, but I do intend to become a Lich. For that, I would need a station where my phylactery is located, along with runework surrounding it - that's something I can do on my own."

"However... the receiving end of the mana and influence, something that I would wear at all times, it's something I cannot do."

With that, he reveals metals that he's been carrying to Dylerun. As renowned blacksmith, he probably would have no difficulty telling at all that it's Arcanium- though, as for the other pack, it's Soulsteel, but... somewhat different, as if blessed by something. Perhaps something even better?

"I would need you to craft a bracelet for me. It must be wide enough to fit runes on it, and fit my arm good enough so it stays hidden beneath my clothing at all times."

"The runework and any other parts of it, I will handle it all on my own. I only need you to craft something that could receive the... 'signal', if it makes sense."

"Could you do that?"

Obviously, the drafts and measurements were already prepared, but... while Arthur seems to be holding onto something else, he doesn't show it to Dylerun just yet.

For all he knows, he might even refuse.
(Arthur Rowan)

There was a visible annoyance in the mans visage. Too long had he, much like those in the Adjudicator position, dealt with items that were best spoken 'in private'. Most times, they were hardly something that had cause to be private at all. Like an angered dog he followed along behind Arthur, hissing through his teeth all the while as they reached the apex of the small throneroom of the academy. Cane clenched in strong, aged hands.

Ah. There it was.

More often than not, much like a necromancers work, his had revolved around the soul. Several times has he had to shape a metal whilst transference was involved, or make a housing for such. Serpentine and mechanical silver eyes would gleen over the metal he presented, a light huff from his nose. "Of course I can make it, but this alone would be meager. Unless you have a Spire-shard or an equivalent to house yourself, it'd mostly be fornought. Trust me, I know how to make something that recieves the signal of the soul."

His own ring would fizz gently on his finger as he tapped it against his cane once, twice. "Mmmmh. I could do it."
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

Unfortunately, that's not something that could be avoided.

If he were to speak about this in public, a lot of potential spies or people that simply talk too much could reveal the secret that the Rowan is working on his own immortality, and that cannot be allowed. What if someone would find out and attempt to stop him? At very best, that would be rather... inconvenient.

It's also inevitable that he would desire for such immortality. All this work with preserving the bodies, all this work with defeating the rot, now it's time for him to take care of his own body. Considering that he's already in his forties, there's not that much time left until the age begins catching up to him.

And even if he does not defeat the Death entirely, at least, he will be mostly immortal.

"So I've heard. And yes, I'm fully aware that Spire Shard or an equivalent would be required to house my soul. In fact, I intend to have nothing less than that."

"But... you could do it, which does not imply that you would do it... I assume that you want something in return, then, or is there anything else you need?"

"Am I correct?"
(Arthur Rowan)

Undeath. It was a prize that most in their life had aimed for, and few had succeeded. Dylerun was one, though in its own sad way. He wondered that, if he hadn't taken the literal bullet for Tepi, if he hadn't died all that time ago if things had changed. No, he wouldn't be what he was today. A nearly perfect being, flickering rieka lines intense on his body. And they would grow even more intense with the last of Arthurs words spoken.

Offense was immediately taken. Eyes becoming slits, the pupil of the serpentine eye a barely perceptible horizontal thinness."Did I ask for something in return? What am I, some peddling whore who asks for handouts for my work?" Perhaps, for Arthur, he had chosen a good wording. He had poked the small mans pride, and even now he was almost visibly puffing up, posturing towards the younger man.

Crooked finger like a gnarled root would just towards the Adjudicator, hand steady. Far steadier than what it should have been, for a man his 'age."The gaudy little bracelet you're asking for will get done with what you bring me. My passion is the work, not the reward. I'm not Iosefka." A bite towards his apprentice, her eyes on her own monetary gain as much as they were on the work she took to.
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

It's almost bizarre how different the master and pupil were.

Perhaps it's because he forgets who Dylerun is, or because he's grown used too much to the outside world, where people deal in favours to one another- though, it pleases him to hear that he wouldn't need to waste even more time looking for specific thingy that he might've requested.

If it weren't for who he is.

"Mm... no, you did not. I'm used to the fact that people deal in favours, and by default, I'm curious as to what they will ask in return. It's a rare thing someone wants to do something just because they enjoy doing it."

"I suppose you're that rarity."

Walking over, he hands the pieces of Arcanium and Soulsteel. By all means, it should be enough- if it were just a bit more, it could be used for something bigger, like part of the armor or even a sword, or a staff, but instead the task is bracelet. Though, you can never be greedy or unwilling to give even more than needed when your life and future is on the line, can you?

"Here."

"I assume this should be enough, based on potential size of the bracelet. Though, I'm no blacksmith myself, so if you actually need more than this, just let me know. And also--"

Then, he hands a draft. It includes the measurements of both Arthur's arms, and in fact, all sections- starting from the area near shoulder, going down the bicep and tricep, and ending up with forearm. It also includes the picture of the runes that would be included, all to make sure that it's created in a way that they all fit on bracelet's surface.

"Here's the needed measurement and draft of what runes will be on it."
(Arthur Rowan)

You pick up Touched Steel x2.

You pick up Arcanium x2.

A shot look of contempt was given, the perverbial hackles of the man settling. Not that there was much to him in truth, but the principle was there. "I've been doing what I enjoy for longer than you've been alive. Its the reason theres things like this building standing now." His own hands having helped quite literally lay the foundation of old Avalon and Dawn. Having fielded an entire armies worth of swords and armor. Not for money, and not always for enjoyment or reward. But because it was expected of him.

Old mentalities died hard.

Eyes would shift towards the arcanium and the apparent Soulsteel. Strong hands squeezing it, feeling it. Rough fingers feeling the traces of recieved mana in both the metals. For a moment, eyes would close as he muttered. Tapping the metals sharply with the tip of a finger, a gentle ring being heard for but a moment before a hand would rest to make it stop."Mmmmh. Mmmmh. Yes. Yes, this will do nicely."

Eyes would register over runes the man recognized, but mind was foggy. He could see them, he knew them, but it was like a horrible sense of deja vu. They remained unknown, incomprehensible to the man. Hands would brush over the paper, before slowly folding it into a pocket."Yes, there'll be plenty of room for work. We'll get started in a few days. Bang this out proper, allow the metal to...mmh. Rest before the allowance of a soul is thrown into it."
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

That was something he could not argue against.

He knows very well that Dylerun was among the first Valmasians to come here, and while he does not know most of his story, that fact alone is impressive; after all, Arthur was only born by the time Valmasian settlers have turned themselves to Gaiar, all to ensure that they survive.

A horrible, horrible childhood followed.

Yet, he can't imagine how it was like to arrive from the actual mainland of Valmasia, or how life in Avalon used to be. He simply nods once Dylerun acknowledges and confirms the fact that the metals should be enough for the bracelet, before he exclaims.

"That's good to hear."

Still, he watches as Dylerun folds the draft paper in his pocket, and listens to what else he had to say; Arthur had little to no actual knowledge on how to work with raw metal itself, and while he clearly had an idea what to do once the bracelet is ready, until then, he had no choice but to put absolute trust in everything that Dylerun does.

It's best that someone who knows what they're doing gets it done.

"Thank you, Dylerun. And yes, do let me know if there's anything else needed from me."

"This work is extremely important to me, after all."
(Arthur Rowan)

There would be a pause in the mans being as he looked towards Arthur. Not a simple glance, or a glare that he was prone to. But Dyleruns eyes truly looked at him. As if just now seeing the Adjudicator for the first time, for what he really was. Ill words were often spoked towards and about him, but that was simply the man the Oscuri was. He did that for everyone, an involuntary reaction. Even now he nearly spoke them, but held his tongue.

"You're welcome."

He was capable. Strong willed, resolute. He knew what he wanted out of the world, and instead of begging, he went out to try and make it happen. Something worth his respect, though no. Dylerun would never say it to his face. "Trust me, I know just how important this work is." Something to house the soul. No, it was far from his first rodeo. He had done it several times for his own person, after all.

"...Is there anything else, Adjudicator? Or am I free to go glare and wish death upon the children of this fine city?"
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

For a moment, he notices Dylerun's look, but on Adjudicator's expression was... pretty much nothing. His entire life he worked for so many things, and even now, this was something else he was planning out carefully, step by step inside his head - or maybe he didn't want to think what exactly Dylerun ponders about.

Could be something good, could be something bad.

"I'm glad that you understand. Truthfully, I was afraid that I'd have to ask anyone else... like Iosefka, in case you refused. And she's known to, hm..."

"...Wag her tongue. A lot. Too much, even."

"I imagine if she was responsible for this work, not only something would go wrong, but... it would quickly become known to everyone, too."

To a large degree, it's a huge relief that Dylerun agreed to it. The younger man of the two had confidence in his ability of a blacksmith, and his ability of simply keeping quiet. Such things cannot be told to everyone around.

"No, that would be all. You can return to anything you'd like to be doing."

"Thanks again." - with that, he walked towards the exit.
(Arthur Rowan)