“We shall need a donor. Any body will strictly do, but preferably a woman’s, moderately muscular and fairly lean,” the flesh lord said as they removed their coat. Underneath were bare shoulders, with a sleeveless silk top, as well as a multi-layered skirt enclosing a pair of slim, pale legs.

A more foolish man could describe them as ‘petite’ or even, if they were spectacularly stupid, ‘dainty’. Such a person would quickly learn that Carnes’s relation with anatomy was fluid at best. In fact, Efrain was confident that they could’ve easily crushed his skull with just one of their hands. The coat slithered away as it’s user pulled back their hair into an impressive pony tale, huddling in the corner of the room.

As Carnes began to examine the paladin’s body more thoroughly, Efrain departed back to the undercroft. At the clack of his hands, two attendants sprung from the dark to come to his side. Simple grey robes with face cloths covered the stitched together limbs and the toothless mouths as they waited for orders. Efrain unlocked one of the compartments, sliding out the body of a thief that hadn’t treaded quite quietly enough.

Deciding that the body met Carnes specifications, he let the barest huff of magic flow into the ghouls, who stooped down in silence and lifted the tray up, proceeding to shuffle down the corridor. Efrain strolled behind them, following through the doors out to the veranda as the ghouls’ face masks fluttered in the breeze. By the time they managed to walk to the back of the cell block, Carnes had already amassed impressively organized piles of half-frozen chunks.

“Thank you,” they said as the servitors slowly lowered the body onto a cold stone slab jutting from the cell wall, leaving the trolley free. The two left to stand outside, flesh automatons awaiting their next set of orders. On the other end of the cart, Efrain laid the contents of the bag out - the steel blades, needles, and hooks shining in the pale light of the lamps. Carnes began to gather what limbs they could and placed them in a configuration resembling a human body.

“Oh, those are-” Carnes gave him a quick smile before bending over to retrieve a leg that didn’t exist above the knee.

“You’ve taken loving care of them,” they said as they laid the limb down upon the metal surface, “those must be over a century old by now.”

“Somewhere around there,” Efrain said, though that seemed oddly long, as he picked out some of the relevant shears and scalpels, “they’ve been very useful.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Carnes, sifting through the unrecognizable chunks and picking ones they deemed appropriate, “they were of premium quality.”

“They’ve certainly shown it,” said Efrain, hefting one of the saws from the pins on the side of the trolley, “thank you again, by the way.”

“As much as they were a gift, you earned them. That being said, you might want to look for an updated set the next time you set foot in a town,” said Carnes as he fiddled with position and angles of the gathered appendages.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it. Can’t do much until the castle’s fixed, though.”

“Hmmm. Now I wonder how long it will last this time?” said Carnes as they picked up a polished saw and eyed the edge.

Both beings turned toward the donor, resting without complaint on the slab.

“And what happened to this poor woman?” Carnes said as they gazed upon the remains of the thief’s shredded face and neck.

“Ran afoul of some of my security measures,” Efrain responded, eyeing the damage.

“Those ‘measures’ have some very big teeth,” Carnes chuckled, bending over to examine the stomach and sides.

“They do,” Efrain said.

“Well, in any case,” they said, standing and giving the saw a twirl, “thank you for your contribution, my dear.”

Carnes was nothing if not polite, even to corpses.

The hours following were filled with something that, assuming a permissive code of law, resembled a form of taxidermy. The reconstruction of paladin’s abdomen proved to be the most time consuming procedure, as there was little, if any, that wasn’t smeared across his throne room.

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Carnes methodically disconnected muscles and sheared through bone. Fortunately, the chill of the under croft had proved to freeze the body, both helping its preservation, as well as keeping the innards more-or-less in place. For the parts that weren’t iron pins and wires were connected to draw then sutured them together. After considerable time had passed, they finally had something that could maybe pass for ‘acceptable’, minus the extensive stitching, mismatched skin and muscle tone, and the general curve of the abdomen.

After this, they turned to the limbs, repeating the process with the extremities. The only mage-craft being Carnes regrowing areas of cartilage or sealing tissue to retain regular looking function and shape. After bones were connected, the muscles threaded around them, and the skin stitched closed, Efrain sat on the chilly slab by the donor body.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Efrain said as watch Carnes straighten limbs into a neutral alignment.

“I have a policy against eating food while I work. Sometimes I’ve gotten them confused,” responded Carnes with a glib smile as they assumed a position at the head of the body.

“Fair enough,” said Efrain, as he watched the flesh lord closed their eyes and the buzz of magic filled the room.

One could say many things about Carnes’s mental idiosyncrasies, but no one could deny their skill. The flesh shuddered and twisted as it fused and spat out the stitches that they had laid in. Orange-yellow fat bubbled and oozed from the skin and solidified on the icy floors. Colours merged and softened as Carnes ran their hands across the body, long fingers drawing paths for skin tones to pool and mix. Efrain was engrossed like a student attending a lecture, watching a master at their craft. He’d learnt almost everything he knew of flesh-work from Carnes but despite his years of practise, compared to this he may as well still be an apprentice.

Once they had finished with that level of detail, they moved to the sculpting of the muscle, stiffening and shaping it, enhancing it to hold its shape. Carnes looked much like a craft lord at a potter’s wheel, hands pushing, pressing, and pulling the flesh like clay. A little twist of the fingers smoothed the obliques into the abdominis. A flick of the wrist and the ribs shifted into definition, all while Carnes sang a set of tunes with an unnaturally clear and resonant hum.

Finally came the changing of the skin, pores stretched, compressed, and joined together. Scars darkened as they spread and faded, the border between the donor’s torso and the paladin’s body blurring. Just as Efrain was starting to desire another cup of tea as Carnes bent over this section and checked this and that, they stepped back to observe their work with a smile.

“I think that will do, no?” they said, gesturing to the ‘refurbished’ corpse on the trolley.

Efrain nodded. Carnes took pride in their work, and it showed. The body could be snatched the moment before the pendulum fell, with only customary scars and not a hint of stitching.

“Well,” Carnes said, “I will be taking her, then. Let us find out whether the Church of Heart is in a forgiving mood.”

After they both had laid a series of charms to ensure decay would not advance, the body was wrapped in bandages and fine cloth. Efrain began to pack up the tools and thread while Carnes’s coat slithered back onto their shoulders.

“You know, I have a rather good feeling about this,” they said, gently tugging the coat into place.

“A flesh lord walks into the Church with an altered corpse. When asked, they inform the clergy that it’s a battle-sister has been killed in the castle of a necromancer.” Efrain said.

“You make it sound like the setup to a frankly atrocious joke. Have a little faith Efrain,” said Carnes as they brushed ice crystal off the fur around their shoulders.

“Faith didn’t do her a lot of good, now did it?” said Efrain as he looked at the now quite peaceful face of the paladin.

“A fair point,” Carnes said as they laughed, then bent over. With inhuman ease, they picked up the body with one arm and hoisted it over their shoulder.

“You seem very comfortable with the idea of walking into the lion’s den,” Efrain remarked as they passed out of the cell. A wave of the wrist and a pulse of magic, and the ghouls went to clean up the mess.

“Indeed. But that’s because I have an easy scapegoat for once.”

Efrain hissed, the flesh lord chuckled, and both of them walked through the cell block and out onto the veranda. Carnes stopped to let the breeze send their hair to flutter as they glanced around at the valley walls.

“You know, I feel oddly optimistic about this whole affair,” they said.

“I think that’s yet to rub off on me,” said Efrain as they walked past into the under-croft. He waved his hand at a shadowed alcove, and a ghoul shuffled off to retrieved the paladin’s armour. A pity - he was looking forward to a more in-depth examination of its forgery. He was certain, however, that the Church would look unfavourable on the body being returned without its armour.

After trailing up several sets of stairs and corridors, they emerged out onto the steps leading down to the courtyard. In the middle, pawing the earth and snorting stood something that Efrain hesitated to call a ‘horse’. It had a thick, shaggy coat and a long head that flattened into into a wide, diamond-shaped mouth. The frame was similarly shaped to that of a horse, but was bulkier and with a few extra legs to boot. As Carnes began to fasten straps over their prizes, it tossed its mane and snorted.

“This one’s new,” said Efrain as he mulled reaching up to stroke its fur. He quickly reconsidered as a heavily lidded eye turned to eye him, the slitted pupil within dilating. The low hissing growl that escaped its snout cemented Efrain’s hesitation as wise.