XX.

XX.

After working nonstop on remaking the Crown Princes body for almost an entire day after preparing the materials he needed, Jakob found a corner of the study-turned-laboratorium and slept for a few hours.

When he awoke, the Prince still lay unconscious on the workbench and the remains of the people whose muscles, bones, skin, and hair that had been used to remake him crowded the floor near one of the large mosaic windows.

As he stood watching the sunrise through the window, munching on a gooseberry tart and sipping calendula tea, he wondered if Sirellius would actually let the Daemon go hungry.

The minutes passed and the blazing orb cast its light across the metropolis as it followed its ponderous journey through the sky. He concluded that the Advisor had dutifully fed Guillaume a gallon of blood, when the Princes remade body continued drawing breath, albeit shallowly. Whether out of self-preservation or loyalty to the royal family, Jakob could not say, though his bet would be on the latter.

While he stood in his own thoughts, there came a knock on the door.

Enter, Jakob answered.

After a few hesitant moments, the door to the room pushed open and Sirellius entered. His flawless white-and-purple robe was now adorned with a splatter of crimson droplets on the sleeves and skirt.

Your future King yet lives, Jakob announced amusedly. I see that you personally fed the Daemon.

You said yourself the duty was mine, he replied sombrely. His once-haughty expression was now one of defeat and resignation.

Our deal has now concluded.

I did not ask you to practise your heresy on my Prince.

Consider it a gift, Jakob replied, though, from the expression on Sirellius face, he clearly did not. He is stronger than ever and will be able to pass on his genes.

What do you mean?

Given the circumstances of his death, procreation would not have been possible without my intervention and correction.

A look of surprise crossed Sirellius face. I did not realise Thank you.

May it ameliorate the enmity between us, so that the urge to track me down will not compel you in the future.

The Old Advisor laughed, but there was no humour in it. If I had known I was making a deal with a Demon, I would have considered my contract more thoroughly.

Jakob grabbed a jar he had prepared the day before and passed it to Sirellius. The syrupy brown soup within sloshed as he took it.

Once he drinks that he will awaken. I will take my leave before then.

Immediately, the Advisor leant over the body of his Prince and forced the concoction down his throat. Jakob had already left the study when the sound of coughing-and-sputtering could be heard from within. Moments later, the unmistakable voice of the Crown Prince was scolding the Old Man.

With his hood drawn and a hand on Tchinn within his pocket, Jakob quickly left the castle behind and sought out the quickest route to the Noble Quarter.

Kabel wiped blood off his cheek, though it only smeared his dirty face more. A spindly hand-like creature lay before him, its midsection rent with the force of one of his attacks with the bone gauntlet. It unsettled him that this creature of nightmarish design had moments prior been vaguely humanoid in shape.

These are nothing like the ones in the sewer, he commented.

Sig kicked the creature with a gold-embellished boot. The Underking seems to really want the Giant returned to him.

Heskel? Why?

Why should I know?

Kabel shrugged. He had found a strange kinship with Sig the Golden, though friendship was not the right word for it. He had no illusions that she would not gut him the moment the Demon Lord believed his usefulness had reached an end.

I seemed to have traded ownership without being informed he mused to himself. Of course, he could always make the attempt to escape, though his intuition told him that way lay only death. Kabel had been called many things, but suicidal was not one of them, in fact, he had most often been likened to a roach or rat, given his proclivity for self-preservation at all costs.

Did he give you that weapon?

I think its more on loan than anything, Kabel answered. Im generally better with a bow though. This is the first bit of magic Ive been able to use, and I feel like even a toddler could use this thing

Why dont you ask Lord Mammon to gift you a bow then?

Are you suggesting I ask a Demon for a favour?

Sig laughed, realising the insanity of her advice. We are doomed either way. You may as well, I figure.

My soul is still my own, Kabel replied.

Are you entirely sure?

Now it was Kabels turn to laugh. Not exactly

Golden glitter suddenly rained down in front of them and a demon manifested itself in a haze of shiny mist.

Salutations, Hoardlings! it called cheerfully as its full visage stepped from the obscuring mist. It had a static smiling mask of grey stone as a face and a lopsided body with thick legs and skinny arms and torso. Its body was made of spongey orange gelatine that was partially translucent and twin cores shone with an orange glow where its belly and heart would normally have been located, had it been human. It seemed neither male nor female, though Kabel already had seen enough of Lord Mammons cohort to know that such was the norm.

New orders? Sig asked.

Indoodily! My name is Sarll, follow me or Ill eat you!

The gel demon took off in a merry skip as it moved down the streets and alleyways that snaked around Mammons demesne.

Sig and Kabel followed closely behind in a steady jog.

Has Kabels body been retrieved?

Yes, dismantled already, but brain cannot be salvaged.

Jakob frowned. No matter, we will make use of him nonetheless, though I would have loved to study his grey matter.

The Blood-Witch was the one to blow out his flame. It seemed to be out of compassion, Mammon explained, the latter sounding like a half-formed accusation.

Sig once declared herself Eyeless, and though you say you have reformed her and returned her to the fold of the Watchers grace, an ember of perfidy is sure to still smoulder in her chest.

The Demon Lords eyes narrowed at the implied scepticism in Jakobs words. You are my guests, Jakob, but do not forget your place.

I believed we spoke as equals.

No Proud Demon am I, but I am above your kin, this is obvious to all observers. You are useful to me, but, ultimately, I am indulging you and your craft. Call it fascination with a lower species.

Look around you. This is a sanctuary for all that ails and hunts you. Without me, where would you be? You are beholden to me until our contract has concluded. Do not forget that.

Jakob weighed the benefit of retorting, but ultimately conceded the point in favour of staying on good terms with the Lord of the Shining Hoard and lowered his head.

My apologies Lord Mammon, I shall learn to bite my tongue when my words are of no benefit to my betters.

When he lifted his head, the expression on the Demon Lords face marked satisfaction that his status was secure. After all, within Helmsgarten, he was perhaps the most powerful entity present, bar the Crown in its totality.

Mammon turned on the spot and evaporated into golden mist and Jakob breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank the Watcher that Demons are such gullible fools.

Heskel grunted disapprovingly, but knew enough to not give words to his thoughts as well.

We must play nice, Jakob told him. Patience is a virtue, didnt you know?

Frustrated, the Wight kicked a pile of coins, sending them clattering down and away from their estrade upon which their makeshift laboratorium was erected.

You are honest like a Demon, Jakob noted with amusement.

He grunted in what could only be described as offended outrage.

We are the heritors of this world, Heskel. The pen of history will be in our hands, not theirs, rest assured.

Jakob finally had the time to look through what tools they had to deal with. Unsurprisingly, every blade, saw, needle, and thread was of the purest most-brilliant gold. Given that the tools were infused with the essence of a Demon, a powerful one at that, they would not break nor chip, but he thought the level of ostentation was frivolous.

As for their materials, they had a healthy sampling with half-a-dozen men and seven women, though he could already tell that they would require more, since the Flesh-Hulk had required eleven adult bodies and the Dragon corpus that they aspired to make would dwarf even that monstrosity. Also, they were starting to turn gold instead of decaying, which he found an irritating challenge.

Where is Loke?

Hunting materials.

Excellent. We will require thirty bodies, split two-to-one between men and women.

Thirty-five, the Wight argued back. Fifteen men, twenty women.

Jakob considered it, but did not understand the logic. Explain.

Women possess flexible lighter bodies, better for large construct.

You believe that will be necessary?

Heskel grunted affirmative, as though his verbosity had suddenly rendered him mute.

We could counteract the weight of male muscle-mass with expanded skeletal support.

No. Mobility essential.

Very well, Ill concede in favour of your experience.

The Wight regarded him coolly.

Alright, fine! Its not just your experience, clearly youve given it more thought than I.

Heskel nodded once and that was that, the debate had ended. It was a nostalgic feeling to Jakob, who could not help but relax as he recollected similar arguments from before they ventured out of the sewers. It was the rare few arguments that were settled in his favour, but he always felt like he learned more from every time he was showed the flaws in his logic.

And now that he considered it more dutifully, there was a simple irrefutable sense in focusing on making a lithe dragon for a Greed Demon to inhabit, as opposed to a heavy well-armoured corpus. If a soul shaped the vessel it occupied, then surely a vessel must fit the shape of the soul it intended to inherit.

While we await the return of Loke, I have another task Id like to complete.

His Lifeward tilted his head with an unspoken question.

I need new trousers, apron, gloves, and boots. As he saw Heskel turn to the pile of bodies yet to be disassembled, he grinned beneath his scent-mask. Not of human flesh, Heskel. You see, we find ourselves in a Garden of Plenty. If our Host is willing to lend us his subjects, we may make for ourselves robes of their durable pelts.

A gruff pulsating thrum was elicited from the Giant of sown-together parts. Jakob had never before heard such a sound. It was unsettling and dangerous, making his bones ache and heart quake.

Heskel was laughing.