Jack led Aleximus on down the road., which, like all the stone buildings of the Imperial City, was coloured dark blue by the night. Torches and lamps made pools of orange light, so that the Necromancer was vaguely aware that he was perceiving alternations of colour as he walked. Jack was holding up an arm, and smiling in a different way to the Breton. Finally, Jack led Aleximus down a garden-girdled path and sat them down on a park bench of wrought bronze. There were pools of torchlight a little way on either side, but the pair were more or less in the blue semi-darkness of moderately late night. A piece of Aleximus' mind was dismayed that for all his knowledge of anatomy and Restoration he did not possess a spell to dissipate drunkenness, for at this rate the Necromancer was looking like he would be hung over something fierce.

Fortuitously, Jack began to speak on the very subject. 'Don't worry, Alex. Lotus is perfectly safe- you can't overdose. Funny thing about the wine is the way it's prepared helps with eating the fruit. That pink cloud won't last for more than an hour.' The last part was spoken particularly archly. With that, Jack settled himself on the bench and closed his eyes, resting to the sounds of insects among the plants. Aleximus was still smiling serenely, and continued to float around in his head, occasionally giving a quick little turn of his head and laughing at the way the universe seemed to lurch in that direction.

Max was bored. The issue of the young Imperial battlemage- for that was surely what he was, what with wearing Imperial Legionnaire armour, and casting fireballs and such- was thorny, but it would be Aleximus' problem in short order. After imprisoning the boy and personally watching him swallow his dinner, the lich had been left with little to do. He could open the letter that had been sent to Aleximus via courier, but that would only be in nosiness. Letters were quite common, and were either enquiries on his master's work, very politely worded requests for sponsorship, or the ramblings of acquaintances, which were the most tedious of all. He read a bit in the study, turning the pages with telekinesis so as to avoid staining them, and was disheartened, for most of the books were pretty heavy reading. The books on Necromancy held no fascination for one who was already undead, and a mage in his pervious life to boot, unless you were morbidly curious as to what exactly the ritual circles had looked like, or wished to ponder if your grave's plunderer had pulled out the nails of your coffin or went at the wood with the shovel directly. In fact the only interesting thing which came of reading the various books on Necromancy was the insight into Aleximus' mind regarding the handbook he was writing- such a tome, were it broad and coherent enough, would be a useful one indeed, because it would consolidate otherwise disparate pieces of information and advice. The moral aspect of trying to perfect the process of training new Necromancers did not much concern Max.

Max finally decided that since the veritable prison riot wouldn't look too good on his record, and Aleximus would probably be too horrified that he had kidnapped a battlemage (oh, how Max did look forward to telling him), then the least he could do was ensure all the other subjects for his master's research on vampirism were in good condition. He had one last look over the small library to ensure that the books were in order, and opened the door of the study to the corridor of cells.

Aleximus opened his eyes, and wondered where he was until his brain caught up. Jack was awake, and at the far end of the bench. Jack grinned on meeting Aleximus' eye. 'They've got good food and drink, haven't they? It's like the Bretons. The Empire has culture, but not the cooks.' Aleximus was beginning to rally, at least enough to give a reply. 'They have culture, but not cuisine. It is my position that Imperial food has not advanced beyond what you can get in an inn.' Jack did not say anything, only smiled. 'But tell me, Jack, surely you can't do this with all your clients?' Jack laughed then. 'Rugdumph is one of the only ones. He wouldn't complain or make a fuss, and is a good sport that way. Lovely house, loyal customer, and bags and bags of gold.'

Aleximus began to colour, for Jack was being very open with him, and after all they were seated on a bench at twilight in a small garden. Surely this wasn't another way Jack entertained clients of his bank? Hadn't he, Aleximus, given away that he had a lot of gold, enough to invest, anyway, at the start of dinner? Jack had also noticed his fine clothing! Such thoughts raced through Aleximus' mind. Jack noticed him puzzling and said breezily, ' And in case you're wondering, yes, I have tricked you out of your inheritance. You signed it over after dessert.'

There was a moment of utter silence. A breeze ruffled the bushes across the bench. Aleximus was considering: fire, ice, or lightning? Jack's façade cracked, and he burst out laughing.

The Breton blinked before joining in the laughter, though his heart was still beating quickly. It had been a near thing, after all. 'In all seriousness though, I do have a proposition.' Jack said. Aleximus arched his brow. 'Switch from Imperial Construction to our bank in Cheydinhal?' Jack looked off to the side, but smiled wickedly. 'Actually, I was thinking switching from this bench in Elven Gardens to my suite at All Saints' Inn'. 'Oh…Oh.'Aleximus definitely coloured this time. Jack chuckled lowly. 'I'm not always a gentleman…don't worry about it, though. Plenty walk into my little café. Just thought I'd give it a shot, you know.' Aleximus tilted his head and gave a superior little smile. 'I haven't said no, you know. All the same, I think I'll milk the Tiber Septim hotel for all it's worth'. 'Ha! The Tiber Septim? No wonder then- I'd have chosen the same. It's a lot of gold to be leaving the bed empty. All the same, here's my card. Mail me?' he said with a smile. Aleximus promised to do so; no, no, he exchanged plenty of mail with his associates, it would be no trouble.

The two of them stood up and prepared to take their leave of each other when Aleximus did some quick calculation. 'Actually,' he said abruptly, just as Jack turned to walk away, 'why don't you join me at the Tiber Septim for some drinks?' Jack turned to face him, grinning. Aleximus hoped his blushing would not be visible in the dark blue of city night. 'They have an open bar after dinner; we could take some brandy up to the study'. Or to my suite, the back of Aleximus' mind said, sniggering. 'That does sound nice. I'd love to. Very proper of you, taking brandy in a private room with your guest after a good dinner.' Jack said this pleasantly, though Aleximus wondered if the young banker was being glibly ironic. Surely he knew that what Aleximus was proposing entailed things which would be highly improper indeed?

Max inspected each captive with placid leisure. The tags on the cells reflected that all of them had been on a treatment of mild poisons, which reduced them to a state of lethargy. Those among them with any significant spellcasting ability had to be given additional poisons to restrict their capacity for magic. Silence poisons, the most expensive and difficult to make, were reserved for the couple of hedge wizards that had been brought in chains to the fort by the good men of the Blackwood Company. Max had also seen to it that the young battlemage's gruel had been laced with the same.

The tags also revealed that most of the captives had been intentionally infected with a more magickal disease. Astral vapours and vampirism were the most common. Most of Aleximus' research was connected in finding a way to allay the symptoms, if not actually cure, vampirism. To Max's knowledge, however, while Aleximus was practically an expert in porphyric haemophilia after such protracted study of how it might be transferred, and how it progressed through its stages both in gestation and in full vampirism, the necromancer had run into many dead ends with regard to finding a cure for the state of vampirism. Frustratingly for Aleximus, access to the Arcane University, the one place which might have given him any new leads, was out of the question, and Caranya was unapproachable.

Caranya…Max pondered a moment. Hadn't Aleximus mentioned that he would be doing something for her? It was probably nothing, though. Caranya would never risk her position at the University; it was how the Order of the Black Worm stayed ahead of the authorities. Besides, Aleximus could never have refused her.

Max looked at his hand. The flesh was a light brown and bloated, the skin papery. The horror had long since worn off. How strange was lichdom. Wasn't it every necromancer's dream of becoming some sort of lich? Not what he was, though; one that would never rot or decay: able to live and wield magic forever. Was that what drove the wealthy Breton, with his time clearly running out? Certainly mages tended live longer if they were careful; but to truly cheat death one had to turn to higher powers. Conjurors and daedra-traffickers might seek earthly might, but what motivated a necromancers? The black chill of terror? Max felt a strange scorn; he had already passed through the eye of the needle and back. Did he see Aetherius? Oblivion? The Soul Cairn? He could not remember anything. He had closed his eyes in his bed and woken up on a stone slab. His memories were retained, but his raw magical power, if anything, was increased. It had been a pleasing discovery.

His eyes raked the row of cells. Cowering bandits and criminals huddled in corners to get away from him. They would all surely perish. Who knows? The hedge mages might be brought back as liches, though Aleximus seemed to have more than enough for his purposes. They would be the lucky ones; they would retain intelligence and magical power. The rest of them, if brought back, would be mere zombies. Leashed by Aleximus' practised magic, and set to manual work. Still, would it not be better than oblivion? He, Maximillian, would forever be grateful for his gift of immortality. He hoped that if Aleximus were somehow trying to wrest the secret of eternal life between the fascinating but wasteful research, he would be successful.

Author's note

Stuff's going down in the next chapter :P