IV.

IV.

The following week, Jakob worked diligently in his laboratorium. At night, he and Heskel would venture out of the basement in search of materials to add to their steadily-growing supply of flasks, alembics, needles, saws, knives, vessels for storing organs and other harvested material, miscellaneous parts, plants for alchemy, and, most importantly, new subjects.

All while bolstering their new base, they awaited the return of Holm. They knew from observing the guards and utilising their servants in the bakery, that the Wrought Servant had yet to be caught. Thus far, Jakob was pleased with his ingenuity, though he grew restless waiting.

In the meantime, he experimented with new ideas. He was limited by his lack of Demons Blood, as it remained the core catalyst for most Demonological rituals and spells. But working around such limitations was something he had long since learnt under Grandfathers tutelage. At the age of twelve, he had been sent out into the sewers alone to find a place for a new laboratorium that he had to build from what he found within the sewer. He had been at a loss for the first couple of days, until he came upon the idea that, in the absence of wood and other building materials, he could scavenge the local wildlife and utilise their bones and hides. Though crude and wretched-smelling, Grandfather had been quite pleased with the result.

Jakob thought back fondly on that moment. Praise was hard-won from his surrogate parent, so every instance was one he cherished.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his reverie by a commotion upstairs.

Unhand me, you cretin! came a voice slick with conceit.

There followed a bustle, as the whatever-it-was came down the stairs to the basement.

A man in fancy clothes was tossed before Jakobs workstation, where a half-dissected cat lay open, its skin pulled aside on needles hammered into the tabletop.

Holm. Jakob was simultaneously furious and elated at the development. I told you that you should first see me, before you acted!

The Wrought Servant looked him in the eyes, then down at the man slowly lifting himself off the floor. The bone blades and claws sprung out of his right arm, but, before he could act, Heskel put a firm hand on his shoulder. Though Holm was tall, he was still beneath the towering Wight.

Thank you, Heskel. Holm, you may leave us. Ensure that we remain undetected, and then stay within the bakery until I call on you again.

YES LORD

As the Wrought Servant retreated upstairs, Jakob regarded the man kneeling before him. Though Holm had failed to fully comprehend his instructions, he had brought him exactly what he was seeking. The man, though haughty by the looks of him, had a build that spoke of untapped acrobatic potential.

Who are you! I demand you let me leave!

Jakob let out a puff of spent breath from his mask, his eyes sparkling with ideas.

Heskel continued and drew three words along the circle that confined the serpent, and which in turn confined the appendage. Each was written in the phonetic Block-Script of the Necromantic Cult, from whom Grandfather had long ago obtained the many rites and spells he had passed on to Jakob and which Heskel had naturally absorbed in his long service to the Fleshcrafter. He wondered just what sort of price Grandfather had paid in return.

The Wight stood up from his task, and then pointed to each of the strange words in succession:

Servant. Protector. Extension of Self.

To Jakobs knowledge, Necroscript, as was its shorthand, was similar to Chthonic Hymnals, in that it could be modified to suit very specific tasks, though, in Necromantic rites, this was in the form of adding the block script to the ritual circles or vessels for the spells. He knew that, if he became proficient with the script, he would be able to modify many of his most-commonly-utilised rites. It was on his list of things he still needed to learn, though it seemed to be a list that grew exponentially with every new fragment of knowledge he obtained.

After the Necroscript came the tallow candles of human fat. These were candles that, just by their heretical nature, contained potent magic, though they were arduous to produce. Fortunately, they had prepared several in the previous week. Without needing the Wight to tell him, Jakob placed one at each of the six corners of the hexagram. He first assumed that he needed to light the candles, but Heskel stopped him with a hand.

Kneel. Repeat spell.

A bit confused, but compliant nonetheless, Jakob knelt before the hexagram, the stitched-flesh apron cushioning his knees on the hard stone floor. Heskel then took Jakobs hands, placing them on two of the six corners, so that the candles there sat between his thumbs and index fingers.

Then the Wight started chanting, with Jakob repeating in a sort of canon-singing. The words were meaningless to him, but he made sure to enunciate them clearly, and, before long, the air became charged with potential energy. Suddenly, the six candles all lit up with a pale flame that was a hazy blue at its fringes and a pure white within.

The flames of the candlewicks grew-and-grew, reaching near to the ceiling and then curling inwards, like serpents seizing the still-laying appendage within. The flames struck the coiled appendage the exact moment Jakob intoned the final verse. Immediately, the flames disappeared, leaving not even smoke nor the smell of burnt tallow. Shortly after, the appendage within unfurled like the imitation snake that it was, squirming anxiously, before slithering to where Jakob knelt and coiling about his body.

Its perfect.

After sewing the new appendage to the back of his flesh apron, he now had a tail that moved around and could hand him tools with a single thought, or helped hold whatever he needed it to. It was easily the single-most important thing he had ever created, though much of its design had been possible only with the help of Heskel.

What do you think? he asked the Wight, as the tail coiled around his waist, which seemed its preferred resting place when not in use.

Heskel nodded solemnly. A man is no more than the tools in his belt.

It was yet another of Grandfathers many sayings, but Jakob knew it was meant as a compliment.

Now. How about we try to find some way out of this district?