[ An invisible weight settles over his shoulders at the sound of that subtle rebuke, doubling when Vlad stands. It's not an overwhelming pressure, but a persistent one, nigh impossible to ignore. And Avicebron, accustomed as he is to the delicate balance of catering to patrons without compromising his pride, feels a strange thrill pour down his spine.
How easy it would have been, had all of his patrons felt this worthy of the praise and flattery they demanded from him. It's been a long, long time since his youth, when he last felt such an innate desire to take up the quill for another person. And this, despite his knowledge of Vlad's bloody past. Truly, the Black Faction may be destined to win this War, with this man as their leader.
Avicebron nods, confident, as he rises to his feet. ]
Gladly.
[ The click of his footsteps reverberates through the cavernous hallways as he leads the way towards the area he's claimed as his workshop. Inside, homunculi are already busy at work moving about heavy equipment and large vats of materials. A large table is piled high with rare jewels and parchments, scattered with notes scrawled in Hebrew.
In the center of the room, a single golem stands, lit from above. Even misshapen and rough, it exudes a magical energy far beyond what most human magi would ever be able to create. ]
This is only the prototype. [ Avicebron gestures with a hand, and the golem shifts to stand at attention, eyes glowing faintly. ] I've prepared to make further improvements to its strength and endurance.
[ There's a short pause before he adds, ] -- it would be presumptuous for someone of my standing to claim to know what a sovereign would find truly worthy. But I believe you won't be disappointed, at the very least.
[ Despite his modest words, his tone of voice is dry and confident. It's never been in his nature to easily admit loss when it comes to a matter of words; even coming from a King, that 'tease' from earlier isn't something he'll just let go without a retort. ]
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How easy it would have been, had all of his patrons felt this worthy of the praise and flattery they demanded from him. It's been a long, long time since his youth, when he last felt such an innate desire to take up the quill for another person. And this, despite his knowledge of Vlad's bloody past. Truly, the Black Faction may be destined to win this War, with this man as their leader.
Avicebron nods, confident, as he rises to his feet. ]
Gladly.
[ The click of his footsteps reverberates through the cavernous hallways as he leads the way towards the area he's claimed as his workshop. Inside, homunculi are already busy at work moving about heavy equipment and large vats of materials. A large table is piled high with rare jewels and parchments, scattered with notes scrawled in Hebrew.
In the center of the room, a single golem stands, lit from above. Even misshapen and rough, it exudes a magical energy far beyond what most human magi would ever be able to create. ]
This is only the prototype. [ Avicebron gestures with a hand, and the golem shifts to stand at attention, eyes glowing faintly. ] I've prepared to make further improvements to its strength and endurance.
[ There's a short pause before he adds, ] -- it would be presumptuous for someone of my standing to claim to know what a sovereign would find truly worthy. But I believe you won't be disappointed, at the very least.
[ Despite his modest words, his tone of voice is dry and confident. It's never been in his nature to easily admit loss when it comes to a matter of words; even coming from a King, that 'tease' from earlier isn't something he'll just let go without a retort. ]