Observer

It was a very small thing, only one tiny change. The Observer almost missed it. Peering into the microscope at the latest draw of Wyrmwound sludge at the end of a long day filled with noxious smells was not the most pleasant experience, particularly for a Lightning-born. Even if the life of a Necromancer had been his own choice, not forced upon him.

But, moments like this made it worthwhile. He called to his lab partner, who hurried from her own microscope to see. She confirmed what he saw--a new strain of Wrymwound flu had developed.

Now came the hustle and bustle of carefully packing the new bacterium for transport to the Quarantine zone. Preparing the incubation fluid, calling the Necromancer designated to receive the new mutagen into their bloodstream for observation (provided they could safely transfer it between the container and themselves), separating all of the recognized strains from the new one, and finally getting it all placed in its own well-sealed transport.

Only Plague Couriers could be entrusted with such a pathogen, and only when they were accompanied by a Necromancer. The Observer waved goodbye to the two dragons, winging their way low to the ground to reduce their chances of being seen. Then he glanced at the clock, a habit from his Lightning upbringing. Still one hour left. He sighed, and hunched over the microscope once again.

Day 13: Necroservus

For all his Mancer's arrogance, she treats him as an equal. He appreciates that.

She know that his knowledge of the techniques they use is equal to hers, and he is even familiar with the manufacture and repair of the instruments from his youth in the Lightning flight. She recognizes his still-present tie to the flight of her ancestors, and she grants him that due.

Still, she is Mancer and he is Servus. If she says the Ghoul is to be Neutralized, the Ghoul is Neutralized. Is she says the Ghoul is to serve as a repository for Plague, it is done. If she announces from her Council seat that Mercies are an abomination and yet researches their creation on the sly, he is her Servus, and he must obey.

Even if the cognitive dissonance grows louder by the day.