Aengellania tries to make Eresh comfortable, insofar as she thought an Ossiarch could feel comfort. Eresh’s soul had been knocked out of alignment with her body by the daemon’s magic, but Aengellania has confidence that the Soulmason regain consciousness within an hour or so. Perhaps sooner, with just the right push of magic…
Before she can finish that thought, a plodding sound grabs her attention, and she looks up from Eresh to see the Soulmason’s Mortek throne wandering aimlessly about without its rider. Gashes split its osseos surface, and the way it moved put her bizarrely in mind of a wounded animal. She is no expert in ossification, but it seems to Aengellania that Eresh would need quite a bit of bone to repair the throne.
Not far away, she spies Sir Hrantinel of the Valourous Heart feasting on the remains of the Marauders. Though she has seen more gruelling sights in her considerable lifetime, it still makes her stomach a little sick to see him gulp down what used to be a human being. But it gives her an idea.
Sir Hrantinel looks up at Aengellania as she approaches, and grins widely through bloodstained fangs. He bobs his head in a small bow.
“Milady Heartmender, you bless me with your presence.” He gurgles in a wet, rumbling voice.
Aengellania curtsies back, careful to play into the delusion. She had no idea how he had found out about her first name, but she isn’t about to tell him that.
“Sir Hrantinel, I assure you the pleasure is entirely mine.”
As she stands upright she gives sir Hrantinel her brightest smile.
“Might I inquire what you are doing, at the moment?”
Sir Hrantinel shuffles backwards a little, arms protectively circling around the body he had been feasting from.
“Oh milady, you should not concern yourself with such business. It is meagre and hardly worthy of your attention, especially for one as delicate as yourself.”
Did some part of him recognise what he was doing, and resists having to confront him, Aengellania wonders privately. Outwardly, she lends her voice a slight pleading tone, one that she has heard many times before in the courts of the nobility.
“Nonetheless, sir Hrantinel, I find myself possessed with curiosity. And should we not endeavour to better know each other if we are travelling together? Surely it could not be as dreary as you describe.”
Hrantinel stares warily up at her from his crouch, instincts warring in his eyes. Then he reaches a decision and smiles up at her again.
“Could I refuse the request of a lady, especially one possessing of such gace as you? I do not believe I have the will to do so.”
He lifts up a hand and runs it along the side of his steed, a skeletal pegasus.
“I am feeding my mount Peggy, lady Heartmender, with the spoils liberated from the enemy camp. I shall have to thank them for their generosity, next I cross swords with their ilk again.”
“And do you feed him a carnivorous diet, sir?”
Sir Hrantinel laughs aloud before quickly stifling his mirth, ashamed.
“My apologies, milady. I beg forgiveness if I have mocked you with my humour.”
Aengellania smiles beatifically and bows her head, trying to put out of her mind the sound of the ghoul laughing.
“I have taken no offence, sir. I understand that I can be ignorant of the duties of knights.”
“Nay, milady, I would never describe you as ignorant!”
Sir Hrantinel tears off an arm and shows it to Aengellania.
“I have been feeding Peggy fruits and grains, milady. Watch.”
Rather than offering the arm to the pegasus skeleton, sir Hrantinel bites into it and rips off a chunk, swallowing it whole. Aengellania forces herself to keep her eyes on Peggy’s naked jaw and smile.
“You treat him well, sir Hrantinel.”
“I treat him as he deserves, milady.”
Sir Hrantinel looks up at Peggy and rubs her ribs gently. His voice softens, becoming more human and filled with affection.
“He has been the truest companion I have ever had, so close that oft-times it seems like he knows exactly what I am thinking. The hearts of mortals can be fickle, and swords may break in my grasp.”
Peggy turns his head and rubs it against sir Hrantinel’s chest. Though Aengellania suspects that there was just enough necromancy to animate the bones and not the soul, Hrantinel’s joy is very real as he hugs the pegasus.
“But Peggy shall be true to me as I shall be true to him.”
Hrantinel pats Peggy’s skull, and the jaw falls off.
“Peggy!”
Hrantinel ducks down and grabs the jaw before it hits the ground, mortified. He stands upright and waves an admonishing finger in front of the pegasus’ snout.
“You shouldn’t stick out your tongue at a lady, Peggy! That was very discourteous!”
It is a scene that struck Aengellania as morbidly humorous , even as she tried to suppress that feeling. It isn’t right to find the ghoul’s delusion funny.
“I must beg forgiveness once more, lady Heartmender, Peggy has an incorrigible cheek sometimes.”
“There’s no need to apologise, sir Hrantinel.”
She reaches out and pats Peggy’s flank, more for Hrantinel’s benefit than anything else.
“I find it rather endearing, actually.”
Hrantinel smiles and visibly calms down again, just as she had hoped. When he’s fully calmed down he rubs Peggy’s head again, smiling widely
“What else did you wish to know, milady?”
“Well, if you don’t mind me asking…”
Aengellania kneels down next to the corpse and taps an exposed rib.
“What is this?”
Hrantinel kneels down next to her, expression momentarily contorted into confusion.
“That… That is…”
His face lights up as the answer comes to him.
“The seeds! Of course, those are seeds.”
“Oh, interesting!”
Aengellania waves a hand towards Eresh’s Mortek Throne, still pottering about aimlessly.
“I had been hoping to find feed for Eresh’s steed, and seeds would do perfectly.”
Hrantinel’s grey face knots into a look of confusion as he looks at the throne.
“Are… Are you sure that horse can subsist on seeds?” Hrantinel asks her doubtfully.
Aengellania shakes her head. When she talks she puts gentle though greater conviction and authority into her voice, and nudges his illusion with a little Grey magic. She dislikes the idea of manipulating the ghoul using his own delusion like this, but if it keeps him from perceiving reality too soon…
“You might be mistaken, sir. Eresh’s steed is no horse, but a large flightless bird. It’s a remarkable creature, able to travel very far with very little sustenance, but they prefer seeds.”
Faced with Aengellania’s quiet certainty and magic, Hrantinel’s reality realigns until it is in accordance with that suggested by the Cathallar.
“A bird! How could I have ever mistaken it for a horse, honestly. You must think of me as a poor knight, milady.”
He begins ripping into the bodies around him, until finally he presents Aengellania with a small mound of gorey bones.
“Please milady, take these to the noble Eresh. And if her steed requires more nourishment, then I shall be all too happy to provide.”
Aengellaina curtsies again, keeping her expression one of gratitude as the smell assailed her nose.
“My thanks, sir Hrantinel. You truly possess a valorous heart, just as your name suggests.”
When she looks back up again, she blinks… And sees a tall, strong and handsome man beaming proudly at her, a beautiful pegasus with knowing eyes standing behind him. But the image only lasts for an eye-blink, and the horrifying reality returns. As Hrantinel bobs his misshapen head, Aengellania’s pity for him heightens as she realises just how much of a twisted creature he’d see himself as.
“Anything, for one as virtuous as you.”