Rhonda
Bradai's first reaction was that the boy was faking it. It was a horrendous display, to be sure, but it was one that instinctively inspired pity. He didn't trust it. He didn't hide his concern as he ushered two of his men to get the boy up to his feet.

"Get vhis boy some water n' food. Somefing light. I..." He turned his attention to his notebook, taking his quill and making notes of the visitor. "Where are you from, boy? Why 'ave vhey sent you?"
Kyle
He lifted his eyes away from the ground to match the gaze of the Pirate King. He picked himself up and stood on shaky legs. "My village is to the north, s-sire. I can't read nor write, so I could not tell you its name. The rest of my people are either sick or dead, sire, and I fear for them greatly." He shut his mouth and once again lowered his gaze to the floor.
Steven
Anyanka once more found her lips pursed. She didn't know yet if she trusted any of this, and she certainly didn't trust _anyone_ with Mikhail anymore besides herself and Bradai. The redhead stood, moving towards the door as he reached into his bag to pull out a notebook and quill. Stopping before the door, she pushed it open a crack, and asked the guard at the door to summon her son. Mikhail was in the library, as he normally found himself, and arrived quickly. He paused at the door, looking to his mother then the guard, and stepped into the room. 

When she'd first seen him when she arrived, he had been excited. Now that the excitement had faded, and he was back to his 'routine' of his life in the Isles, she could tell the difference. He walked heavily on one foot more than the other, and the tired look in his eyes was more glossy than exhausted at this point. He entered the room and stood with his hands at his side by the table they had been discussing around. 

"Mikhail, I know you've spoken to King Maith about a necromancer in Azarya-"

"But you've brought your own." Mikhail finished, and turned his gaze to Danico. What had once been a shining silver was now a murky grey gaze, and he almost regarded the man with a bored expression. "Are you here to heal me, mister Danico?" He asked, and Anya blinked. 

"How did you know his name, Mikhail?" 

As answer, the boy gave a shrug, his attention not moving from the man before him.
Michael
Danico turned his gaze to the boy as he entered, raising a brow at his obvious condition- pale skin, red-tinged eye lids, he even noticed the glossy eyes as Mikhail turned his gaze back at the Alchemist. *Intriguing* He thought to himself, finding himself to be fascinated by the boy's general state. He had seen living corpses before, even summoned one or two himself, but there was something fundamentally different about a child who was not dead, but not alive either. Still, the politics of a child un-dead was not a topic he thought himself getting into, so he instead walked over to the boy, examining his skin closely before opening his notebook to a blank page, writing down the condition of his skin, his hair, and eyes at first glance. 

Once he had finished writing, he put the book down on the table and pushed the goggles back down over his eyes, adjusting the smaller lenses to best suit taking a close look at detail. "So how *Did* You know my name?" He says somewhat quietly as he concentrates, not even asking the boy for permission as he pushes a thumb onto the boys eyelid, lifting it up so he could take a closer look at his eye, taking in every detail before doing the same to the other. He then moves to the boys nose and pushes the tip side to side- *"No decomposition of the septum.."* He says quietly to himself before finally using his thumb again to push the boys lips back in the corner, examining his teeth. 

Danico goes back to his book and writes down everything he had examined, turning his back to the boy. "By the way, child." He says through muffled mask "I'm not a necromancer, nor am I a magician.-" He turns back to the boy as he talks- "Necromancers typically summon spirits and raise the dead for ill purposes, but you can rest assured I'll have none of that." Danico pushes the goggles back up off of his eyes, taking a look at him once more without the super-focused lenses.
Steven
The man moved across the room to him, and without asking placed his thumb on Mikhail's eyelid. The boy flinched, and jerked his head to the side before the impulse died, and he stood completely still for the rest of the alchemists examination. When he was finished, a hand moved to his nose, finding it now tickled after the touch. 

"I saw you come in with the guard. Not soon after I saw my mother lead to the same room, so I asked the gateguard your name." He explained, his voice flat as he spoke. "I am not a magician either, mister Danico. I'm just observant." He turned his head, his chopped blonde locks moving with the motion as he looked to his mother. 

"So does this mean we're not going to Azarya?" He asked, and Anya made a face as to say 'not exactly'. 

"We are, but Danico will be traveling with us, in case Bradai's man can't help you, he's here to double our chances of success." 

Mikhail tilted his head a bit, and looked back to Danico. "And what exactly defines your success?"
Michael
Danico let out a soft chuckle at the boys mention of magicians. "We are the same then, you and I" He continues as he takes his gloves off, placing them down on the table. "Can you please lift your shirt for me?" Danico requests after Mikhail had asked about Azarya, squatting down to meet the boys level. "I am an alchemist, a man of study." He continues as he look up at Mikhail's eyes. "It is my job to understand these kinds of things. I understand necromancy and how it works, and by extension, how to perform it." He looks back over at Durkhan momentarily before looking back to the boy. "And well, someone like your mother would be wise to place their trust in someone who has no biased notion on the use of black magic and necromancy. For me, it is merely a tool, you could say. Much like how reading a book is a tool to learn, necromancy is a tool for me to learn."
Steven
Mikhail didn't oblige immediately, and instead watched as the man crouched before him. He exhaled, though the movement barely caused his chest to rise or fall, and he moved to raise the hem of his shirt for the man. 

For the first time since his burial, Anya saw the wounds that had caused this whole affair. Four white scars on his chest. A pure white that even the snows in the Witherlands couldn't match. Amalthea had struck true when she'd run the blade through him, but the others were for good measure it seemed. Anyanka paled, and had to lower herself into her seat, her hand moving to cover her lips to keep herself from saying anything as the two conversed. 

"So you measure your success in learning something." Mikhail stayed still, and his head tilted once more. "By those standards, you'd consider learning that your practices were fatal a success. A creature like myself can't stand up to _this_ type of experiment, or _that_ type of magic. Surely you'd find more use in examining my corpse than what I am now." 

"Mikhail." Anya spoke, her voice firm. "Please, we're trying to help you." 

"You're wasting your time, mother." He sighed, and released the hem of his shirt without asking Danico if he was finished with whatever he had wanted to examine. "This man can't save me."
Michael
Danico was certainly taken aback by the large scars left on his chest, he didn't know how the boy had gotten to this state, but this certainly helped paint a picture. Danico just prodded at the boys chest and stomach, watching for any reaction he might give before returning his hands to his lap. 

"No no, it's okay" He says to Anya as he rises once more. "I don't measure my success by what I learn. Success *Is* Defined by the outcome. If I learn something, then good. I've learned something, but I didn't agree to take this request based on the possibility of learning alone. I'm not here to poke and prod you with with strange and unknown materials to see what reaction I can get from you. I'm here to help you because it is my job." He turns back to his book and starts writing down the things he had examined before writing down a couple extra bits. "Look-" He says before turning and squatting to his level once more. "You're clearly a smart kid, I can tell. Hell, I was just like you once upon a time. But this-" He points to the kids body, referencing his condition "This isn't going to get better on it's own. So I can't force you to let me help you, but you've a better chance with me then some hack necromancer with an agenda."
Steven
Mikhail straightened when Danico prodded at his chest, and only winced when he came close to the scars. Danico turned to jot something down, and the blonde boy furrowed his brow, smoothing his hands over his shirt before Danico turned once more to address him. Something about it was reassuring, but he wasn't letting himself get fooled. He'd trusted his mother, his aunt, his father, and the poppies; and yet he still ended up in a tomb. Some stranger with a mask wasn't going to change his mind into thinking he would be _safe_.

"You say that as if you've got an idea as to how to help me. And yet you haven't asked what symptoms come with this. Does that mean you've seem someone like me before?"
Michael
"I've seen plenty of people like you." He says, looking into the eyes of the boy, a white lie wouldn't hurt, after all. "You feel tired all of the time but you cannot sleep, you're always hungry but never satisfied, you find yourself occasionally feeling rather clumsy for no apparent reason." He stands and pulls the chair on the end of the table out for the boy before sitting down on one next to it, gesturing for him to take a seat. "You know you love your mother, but you are unable to feel that emotion." As he mentions that last line, he focuses in on the boys eyes, speaking directly to *Him*, not just at him. "Am I wrong?" He questions, fully aware of the territory he's treading, if this was the kind of un-death he was thinking of, then he knew exactly what must be done, and conversely, if it's not, he also knew what must be done- either un-death in body or un-death in spirit. Each one with it's own unique set of symptoms.
Rhonda
The Pirate King leaned over the desk that had been placed before his throne and looked the boy over. "Is vhere anyfing you need right now? You look close to deaff. 'ow far 'ave you traveled?" Bradai Maith was hardly ever confounded by anything. This was absolutely out of the ordinary. How long had he been waiting in line? Who would send this boy this far? Why was _he_ the one to receive the visitor? Surely the boy had another leader to speak of. This entire experience had taken him off his guard. "What's your name, boy?"
Steven
The masked man started to list off symptoms, and his shoulders relaxed, a bit surprised at how the man was describing all the things he was feeling. Well, feeling wasn't the word. _Experiencing_ was. At mention of his mother, the boy turned to look at her, and was met with concerned eyes. "No, you're exactly right." Mikhail answered, and looked back to him.

"So if you've met others like me, you know how to fix this? I haven't felt a thing since-" He paused, trying to recall the last time he'd felt normal. "Well, since Wingsway. I felt okay for a while, genuinely _felt_ in Vivayn's keep. When we left it just got worse."
Michael
"Indeed" Danico says in response to Mikhail's question, glancing over at the duchess's pale face. "Unfortunately, as I'm sure you're already aware, though, we will need to head to my Lab in Azarya to be able to continue." Glancing back at Mikhail, he takes the book and places it back in his pouch, as well as the alchemists quill. "Tell me, Mikhail-" He starts, giving the boy a curious glance "Are you interested in strange creatures?"
Steven
"Very much so." Mikhail answered, and Anya stood. The conversation had made her uneasy, and she was very much aware that she was about to find herself without a choice anymore. She'd have to accompany Mikhail to Azarya. No one else could be trusted with this, Bradai was correct in that. Her hand found his shoulder, the good one, and she squeezed a bit. 

"Danico before we can depart we will need to make some preparations. I will have to return to Astoria, inform my council of the decision. I'll need at least a week to return home, prepare, and get back to the Isles. In that time, I'll be more than happy to set up accommodations for yourself in the Isles."
Michael
"Then I'm sure this trip won't be so bad for you. I've plenty at my lab that I'm sure you'll find of interest." Danico stood too, adjusting his satchel and pulling down his shirt. "I appreciate the offer, Duchess, but I have other matters to attend to in South Feyshore. I was going to make a quick stop on the way past, but since you've got some time to prepare, I shall go attend to that and wait for you in Astoria, if it would please you?" He adjusts his shirt and jacket, making sure he has everything needed and not missing anything. "Is there anything else you would like to ask, Mikhail?"
Steven
Anyanka nodded. She didn't mind if Danico traveled to South Feyshore and met her in Astoria. Mikhail, however, was a different story. She looked to him. 

"Will you be joining me on-" She paused, thinking better of it. Mikhail's mind was already turning that way as well, and they gave each other a look of mutual understanding. 

"A trade ship. From the Isles to South Feyshore, I'll send 

"I'll be waiting." He confirmed, and looked to Danico. "I look forward to the possibilities of this journey, mister Danico." He told the man, and with a nod, took his leave.
Michael
Not entirely sure what the two were thinking, he decided against asking just in case it was personal. "I look forward to meeting you then, Miss Durkhan, and you too, Mikhail." Giving the boy a nod back as he takes his leave. "I will send ahead of time for food and drink to be prepared for our arrival. If nothing else, I at least want the boy to be comfortable. I also suggest you advise him of the possible dangers ahead of time. It is important to remember that although I *Can* Do this, I cannot guarantee it will be painless." He stands with his arms crossed, watching the duchess from his position, ready to make his leave as soon as they're done.
Steven
Anyanka watched as Mikhail left, and a sickly feeling overtook her as she pressed her fingers into her temple, the other arm crossing over her stomach. "I'll talk to him as soon as he's arrived in Astoria. I don't want to go about filling his mind with things that he doesn't need to worry about right now. He's already agreed to the trip, whatever dangers it might hold have yet to be determined, but I want him to at least come home." She mused, and lowered her hand from her temple, offering it to the man. 

"Thank you for meeting with me, Danico."
Michael
Danico nodded to the Duchess as he took her hand, giving it a solid shake. "It's better to prepare him than for him to be thrusted into pain, confused and unaware." He stepped away from the Duchess, taking a deep breath once again, puffing thick plumes of smoke out the side of his mask once more. "I'm just doing my job, Duchess." He continues as he steps up to the door. "I look forward to getting my hands on that Owl-griffin kitten. Don't forget the deal." Danico nods once more as he steps outside the room, walking off into the hall as the guard follows along, watching him as he leaves.
Kyle
"M-manfred, sire. My name is Manfred." He returned to being on his knees, even the act of standing was too tall a task for him. His breathing turned heavy as he knelt. His vision started to fade, slowly getting darker, darker, and ever darker until he feinted in the hall of the pirate king. A little more than a *Thud* Could be heard as he collapsed.
Rhonda
"I..." He watched the boy fall, crumpling into a emaciated heap. "Send 'im to tha Infirmary." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Send for tha nurses to look after 'im." 

"Next!"