VII.

VII.

Heskel looked up from the work he and Jakob had been engrossed in.

The young boy noticed this. Has he returned?

The Wight nodded.

Four days had passed since the Thief had gone on his errand. Jakob was not sure which part surprised him most: that he had returned at all, or that he had taken so long. By now, he already knew something had happened in the Mage Quarter, given that it was all people talked about when Jakob snuck out under the cover of dark to observe the Market.

Limping through the door into the former Thieves Den, came Veks, left arm swollen and purple, and right leg and foot no better. But the Thief wore an uncanny grin and patted the satchel slung over his shoulder.

I got you your Blood, boss.

You did well to bring me this, Jakob said with a pleased smile, hidden beneath his scent-mask. Not only had the Thief brought him over four litres of the rare Demons Blood, he had also brought two tomes of immeasurable value.

The first, a blood-rag-bound piece, was a nameless in-depth thesis on high-level Demonological summoning rituals, and it also contained many useful spells that surpassed the Ritual of Abeyance in terms of complexity and efficacy, such as one aptly-named Ritual of the Loyal Spawn. There were also some quite peculiar rituals and spells that he yet had no use for, as well as an extensive list of named Demons.

Named Demons were those that had been summoned and bound by a name, giving the Summoner direct control over them and allowing them to resummon the Demon, should they be slain or banished. There were a rare few Demons who, from birth, had been named by the Seven Saints of Vice, such as Karrmeig, Duke of Devastation, whom Raleigh often talked about in the past, given that he was subservient to him. Raleigh had seemed to take pride in serving a Demon born with a given name.

The second book, a flesh-bound tome, was what really made Jakob grateful to his Thief. Branded onto the skin, above the forehead of the face that covered the front, was the blocky letters of Necroscript, and after a quick study through the pages of the tome, with the aid of Heskel, he could actually decipher what the title said.

The scent of Misty Reminiscence vented from his mask, the floating particulates swirling about his face before vanishing into the air.

Of Undeath and Bone, he muttered in reverent awe.

Heskel grunted approvingly.

You have done well indeed, Jakob repeated to the Thief. The coins are yours, as well as anything else you might desire of me.

The Fleshcrafter looked Veks up-and-down.

I can fix those injuries. I can even make you stronger. Remake you beyond the limits of your beastly flesh.

Gripping the mirror-blade tightly in his fist, Veks face distorted into a huge grin.

I have some ideas in mind.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

By the Seven Veks muttered. He had fallen off his chair at some point.

Jakob affectionally patted his construct on its head.

Now we simply wait for the others to return.

Heskel and Holm found their way back into the basement laboratorium sometime before dusk, dragging behind them two men and a woman. Given Market Wests clientele, slaves were quite easy to acquire without needing to provide permit or identification.

As well as the slaves, Heskel carried a sack full of tools and miscellaneous materials.

Veks observed them sceptically when they entered. Where did you get the coin for all this? Were you holding out on me, little boy?

Heskel is resourceful, Jakob replied with a shrug, ignoring the jab.

Perhaps sensing the need to placate the avaricious Thief, the Wight pulled a coin-laden pouch out of his bountiful sack and tossed it to where he was once again balancing on the back legs of a stool.

Veks caught it in the air without even flinching, before quickly rifling through its contents with apparent child-like glee.

Jakob smiled at his simplicity. Blame not the beast, he muttered, venting spent vapour into the stagnant basement air.

One of the slaves shrieked when they noticed the Fleshcrafter and what he was sitting on. As the man tried to run, the bone centipede shot out from under Jakob, skittering across the floor on its forty bone legs, seizing the attempted runaway in its powerful mandibles and bringing him to the floor.

Before the slave could brain himself on the solid stone, Heskel caught him by his unkempt hair, arresting his momentum.

Break not, he scolded the construct. It struck Jakob as peculiar that the Wight had not even acknowledged its presence until now, but perhaps he was used to seeing constructs, having long served under Grandfather, who was fond of chimeras.

It will learn in time, Jakob commented.

Heskel looked at the construct, as he pulled the slave upright, his fist a vice about his neck. Then he grunted somewhat-approvingly.

What are we gonna do with them? the Thief asked, pointing at the three frightened people with his mirror-sword.

Jakob sent Holm back out on guard with a curt gesture, then brought the centipede back to him with a thought, sitting back down on its coiled body where it gathered beneath him.

We disassemble them, obviously.