CHAPTER 1: The Masks Monsters Wear
Cayden had a disgust for necromancy. He had a disgust for many things other than his books and his own thoughts, though now those had come to cause him disdain. Voices, even when your own, can become too loud. Ang'Fern, with all its beauty from without, had a horrid stench within. Like an corpse half buried in the desert sun but worse. This contract of his was not out of choice, even if Seph was enjoying the poor wretch of a man. Again he was reminded that he hated necromancy.
"Are you quite done playing with you're food?" he asked in his hushed tone. His voice was well mannered even when annoyed and his words were spoken with a refinement unfit for a commoner that he claimed to be. With the way their journey had gone so far though, neither had truly cared to inspect one anothers past. Such matters were of little meaning with the fracture growing by the day. Cayden simply waited, leaning on the stone wall just beneath the buildings roof as the rain slashed across the drains to soak his hide boots a moist black.