Another flash of the woman, this time gently sweeping a promenade. Renner stepped through.

I cannot help but wonder how these ‘doorways’ work. ‘Thresholds’? It seems an entirely separate mechanism from Evileye’s practice. Her manner was to rip through with a circle, but he seems to have made no exertion whatsoever. Even teleportation is a petty feat. Fantastical.

Alighting, she found herself in the center of a bare, hunched room, one that gave her the nauseating sense of a dungeon. Grim brick walls made of a sickly, pallid stone, illuminated by a single hissing magelight above. There were metal doors on all sides, dried tears of rust streaking from the points that had been bolted. Jaldabaoth was there, his tail gently swaying in a way Renner found enthralling. The heat that had hung over her had vanished, wherever she had been taken apparently a much cooler part of the netherrealms. A bang. Renner started, jerking her gaze forward to see what had just entered.

“My Lord! Oh, how wonderful it is to see you!”

A white and red thing waddled in through the front; it was round, with a figure more corpulent than she had ever seen. Dressed as a physician, it was thrown over in thick linens: a coat, a hood, a bulging apron - full of rusted or bloodied tools; all having been splattered with vital reds and browns. Its head was even more distended than the rest of its form, and she spent a few instants registering its long beak as a mask instead of a face. Spying its livid feet exposed between loose bandages, she supposed this was for the best.

“My gizzard has been quivering in anticipation since you messaged ahead! I beg of thee, what task have you called me for tonight?”

How oddly cheery this thing is. It adds to the effect, no?

“Pulcinella, I need you to assemble a vessel.”

“A vessel? Of course, my Lord! For whom?”

“Her.”

A ‘vessel’ for me? What could they be speaking of? Considering this ‘Pulcinella’s’ getup, I’d hazard this no work of pottery; rather, that of a surgeon - or a butcher.

“Oh! Quite right. Pray tell, what accoutrement would you desire? I recently harvested a most supple set of stomachs from a-”

“I expect fidelity.”

“A render true to form? Capital, my Lord! Absolutely capital!”

“We’ll be taking a tour, so collect what you need now.”

Collect?

Pulcinella nodded lightly, paused, and then did so again. The thing seemed to search itself, and faster than Renner could track, had produced something she hadn’t accounted for on its person. It held the box-like object between both hands, before raising it and peering through it like a spyglass.

“Set, go!”

A flash brighter than the sun, Renner blinking a few times to clear the wound in her vision. A whirring noise came, she missing its source as she fought to keep her balance. The thing broke forward, lumbering toward her while drawing a long and bloodied pair of sheers from its smock. She stumbled back, but its strides were quick, outpacing her and raising its implement as it did. A fetid hand reached round to snatch her from the back of the head.

“Pulcinella, do not take more than necessary.”

“Hm? Yes, yes! Quite right!”

The blades snapped shut, severing a lock of her hair which it caught in its other hand. Then, as quickly as it approached, it spun away, throwing open the opposite door.

“Oh, Lord Ulbert, bless this joyous work!”

It slammed shut with a hollow, wavering bang, the monster’s singsong fading away on the other side. Renner felt her chest unwind, quelching her imaginings of a violent remake by the rotund abomination, taking the opportunity to wipe the cold sweat that had appeared on her brow. Jaldabaoth gestured mirthlessly at the door to the left.

“Your dress is inadequate. Strip, don the outfit inside, and exit out the other door.”

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

Renner made her way to the left door, the floor stinging anew with every step. Gently working the handle, she slipped through into the next room, and upon closing the door, nearly collapsed.

Chardelon, stay yourself. Jaldabaoth has eyes folded up in the air, you have no quarter to swoon now. What in the name of the empty divine was that thing? Another demon? Of what class? What was that light? Why hair? Too many questions. I have no sense for witchcraft, nor the foul magics of demons. Another point. This “Lord Ulbert.” I’d name it a fel God, but considering the material existence of these creatures, perhaps it is yet another individual of power. No matter. Clearly, I have remained useful to Jaldabaoth. Whatever this ‘vessel’ is, it is yet another expenditure; development for me. Stay yourself, and carry on.

Renner rose herself from her brace, observing the room beyond. It was similar to the previous - the same thick, interlocked brickwork so polished it shined - though not bare; instead, it had many hooks sunk along one wall, slightly graded floors that lead to a drain, and a single bench as furnishing, upon which was folded an indistinguishable black mass. Mindful of the cold, she rushed over and began doffing her clothing, shivering under the light of more buzzing bars. Setting the rings down on the bench, her dress fell away quickly into a crumpled mass, and despite her better judgment, she shuffled onto it as a way to shield her feet from the bare floor below. Leaning over gingerly, she undid the stack of garments, trying to make sense of them. It was a combination of several pieces: linen trousers and tunic, both dyed; thick leather overcoat that looked fiendishly heavy; a cowl, also leather; two gloves and a belt; a pair of boots and socks; a stiff flat-brim hat; and, most confusingly, a leather mask with darkened glass eyes in the shape of a bird’s beak, much the same as Pulcinella's, though without its whiskers. Renner looked at the set queer-eyed, puzzled on how she was to wear it. Eventually, she decided to start with the tunic, slipping it up and over her head. It was overlarge, and as Renner was about to quietly bemoan unfitted garb, it suddenly began to tighten on her form, shrinking down to bind against her.

That means it’s… enchanted, yes? I suppose this whole set makes a little more sense that way. Not that it’s a reasonable outfit; rather, that magic things are strange as a rule anyway.

Satisfied, she grabbed the trousers next, and after a moment spent making sure they were the right way down, plunged either leg down into them. After a moment, it too shrunk, Renner mildly surprised at how boyish the pair made her figure. The socks went after, blessed protection from the chill, followed by the boots done slip-fashion. Throwing over the overcoat, she buttoned its length, and after a moment’s debate, fit the cowl over herself, yet did not pull it over. Grabbing the mask, she observed its innards for a moment, before bringing it up and strapping it to her face, the faint smell of flowers drifting in as she finished her tie. Fighting her hair back behind her head, she slowly drew the hood over, and then capped herself snuggly with the hat. Her gloves went next, and as she slipped the last over her right hand, she realized she was completely obscured, none of her flesh exposed to the world beyond.

Similar to the one worn by the fat demon, but more protective. I’m to see gore, aren’t I?

Shifting a little under the weight, she winced at the creaking leather, before gathering up her dress and setting it somewhat askew on the bench. Unsatisfied, but unwilling to right it further, she snatched up the rings, pocketed them, and made for the exit. Working it, she stepped out into a long, grime soaked corridor, doors spaced every twenty paces lining the wall to her right, finding her master waiting for her. He began to walk, Renner in tow.

“Tell me, what do you think of mankind?”

Renner lurched. The question was much more open than any he had asked previously.

Estimation of capability? The inertial manner of social behavior? Insult? Praise? Or perhaps my personal distaste? Something more utilitarian? That seems best. What are humans to me? Why…

“They are implements, my Lord.”

“Partially correct answers are unacceptable. Do not make me issue this warning again. What uses do humans have?"

An even more absurd question! How am I even supposed to answer that?! This is beyond seeming. He is a fiend; he plausibly possesses a perspective far and above my own on this matter, in the yonder distance. I may guess at it, but I then risk running afoul of mockery. I do not wish to give a non-answer, either. Ah, I’ve been silent for too long. Admit failure and hope the devil merciful.

"Too many for me to name, my Lord."

"That answer is to be expected. You are inundated with humans, part and parcel with them. For you, an elaborate, multifaceted understanding of men was necessary for your very existence. The subtleties of expression, the ways in which they flicked their tongues, the method by which their minds worked, their analytical capability, the sorts of emotions they were capable of embracing and those they were capable of suppressing, the way they registered others in their thoughts, the sorts of realities they assembled in their minds, how information propagates amongst them.”

He has an inkling, doesn’t he?

Renner’s eyes bore through the back of his head, caged lights illuminating the pair in crimson glows as they passed.

Yes, I showed myself to Zanac and to Raeven, and yes, he surely saw that, and all the many discussions we had that day and night, but there is more to his words here. More to his understanding of me.

“Then, too, the particularities of your own culture, your own politics. Questions on if you are to finish your plate, the etiquette of breaking etiquette, scandal and gossip, what colors match and when, the allure of music and of song, the ways in which you may refer to others, what causes would be fruitless in their advocacy, the bartering and jockeying in the making of war.”

Ah, he understands the anger of my younger self. My rage. The useless fetters that bind my people and render them powerless.

“Further, beyond that immediately available to you was only more men and women of your kind; you submerged not merely within the morass of a human nation, but of a world of them. Your Kingdom’s prime rival, both that which work openly against you, and that which moves in secret, are both of the same sort: composed almost entirely of your kind, beings that - even if they did not speak the same language - you could reckon in the same manner you reckon those near you. It is an understandable flaw, but a flaw nevertheless.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Jaldabaoth slowed, and came to a door. He reached into nothingness, retrieving from the air the same lapis and gold mask as had been described to her.

“You lack, in a word, perspective.”

Donning it, he opened the door, and bid Renner through into a room walled with empty metal cages. She cast her gaze side to side, inspecting the gaols. They were squat, rusted things, stacked four high; almost all were dirtied with foul reds and browns - she realized only now that her outfit was likely shielding her from the stench. A metal beam sprouted somewhere overhead, hooks and rings attached to gantry carriages, one of which held a hanging cage. A single imp-like thing was in the room, prodding one of the cages with a long stick. Renner jerked when she realized it was occupied, spotting the pale, soiled flesh of what she spent a moment piecing together as a woman. She was balled, exhaustedly fighting off the imp’s prods with a hand covered in open sores, shielding her face with the other. Jaldabaoth lashed his tail against the ground, the imp suddenly jerking to attention as it turned to him. He flitted a finger, the demon rushing away from its play to open the door on the opposite end. It did, bidding the pair through with a deep bow.

Renner stepped out onto a banistered catwalk, her footsteps changing from dull thuds into a clanging. Dropping her gaze, she searched for the bottom through the holes in the grate, stiffening as she realized she was nearly seven stories off the ground of a large pit. Backing up slightly, she let the imp run ahead. The creature scurried along the thin walkway, past Jaldabaoth, until it reached what appeared to be a free-hanging platform supported by cables that lead up to mechanisms embedded in the ceiling above. Fighting her sense of vertigo, she tentatively followed after, stepping out from the fixed scaffold to the detached element, its gentle sway threatening to upend her last meal. Satisfied she was aboard, the creature threw a lever, the platform steadily descending.

“As you can see-”

His tone of voice has changed. This is his performance.

“-we have made fine lodgings for our guests.”

Jaldabaoth, now in a much more jovial spirit, made a grand wave of his hand, proudly presenting the furnishings in the pit. It was square, four structures in each corner, that stretched to just under the height of the catwalk, each of which had five levels and a ground. Stairways snaked up the sides of each, leading to thin landings attached to doorless entrances.

“With four tenements in a chamber, six floors per tenement, and four rooms fit for a family on each, we generously allow up to sixteen-score of their fellow men and women to live in a shared community.”

How many doors did we pass again? I don’t think it was more than six, and the corridor seemed to have gone on another four. Four-thousand in total? That number is low, less than half of their total take. There must be a great many more humans elsewhere; perhaps more of these, but plausibly something less hospitable. Those tight cages above, backfill? It would make sense.

Hollow, beady eyed faces stared out at her from barred windows, dozens on each floor, none speaking.

“Of course, we provide the basics. Sanitation, a well from which they may draw, lights which brighten and dim on the twelfth hour, and a recurrent opportunity to obtain plentiful, filling, and nutritious food.”

‘Recurrent opportunity’? What a grand piece of language. There is a stinging cruelty in those words, a combination act, threat, and biting mockery. I almost have the urge to laugh; though, I suppose I ought to delay it until at least I know what he’s referencing.

The platform reached the bottom, jerking to a halt. The imp wrenched the lever back, and her master stepped off onto the stone floor beneath. The bottom was bare, though plenty lively; there were a few stragglers huddled on the floor, several women watching over a flock of children, and a band of men clustered by the far wall. All were silent, and almost all were still - the only exception being a pair of men feverishly working the aforementioned well. One raised his head, exhaustedly marked the pair, before returning to his crankshaft. Renner suddenly realized her outfit had the effect of making her appear distinctly inhuman, and that, to the people beyond her, she seemed to be just another fiend.

“As you can see, we provide a commons to allow an intermingling between our many guests. Social interaction is something to be encouraged.”

Somewhat surprising, though I still feel unsure as to his objectives, I’d have figured he was to use his take for slave-labor, or for some fiendish purpose beyond my knowing, but this? Why go through the bother of taking them if they’re only to lounge and rot in the bottom of some pit? I’m missing something, I wonder what?

Jaldabaoth strode forward, approaching the group of men on the opposite side. Many cast there gazes away, the mass shuffling apart to reveal two doors set side-by-side in the wall. Both had more of the gantry rail protruding out from them. The left was bare, but the right had several carriages, each bearing a large, spring loaded pincer.

“Daily, at noon, we offer food, measured out to be the exact amount necessary to provide for the needs of all in the chamber for one day. In return, we modestly ask for ten of our guests to be provided to us, and for both our and their convenience, that they be set on this rail for ease of transport.”

The last of the men cleared away, revealing a single individual hanging upside-down on the rack. The man - or perhaps a boy - had been hooked through his ankles, clothes drenched in what had flowed from it. His tunic sunk limpidly to his shoulders, torso exposed. He had been thoroughly contused, bruises and other marks on his stomach and chest, ribcage slightly misshapen. His body, despite the abuse, had an allure, and Renner couldn’t help but imagine Climb in the same position, lightly blushing under her mask at the thought.

“Of course, mankind needs more than stomachs filled and thirsts quenched, so we have made changes further in consideration of their needs; specifically, the human desire for choice. We have happily accommodated this, and in most gracious fashion, allow them to select amongst themselves who they shall send in return, something which we enforce no restrictions on, be it in selection, or collection. No matter who is placed on the rack, once it is complete, we joyfully provide food in exchange.”

Ah, I understand; this is a typical ultimatum. Cram in families and a few spare, restrict a need while providing an objectionable way to meet it, provide the cover of night in which to do so, and make the whole thing a daily affair. Extreme circumstances to force extreme behavior. It’s a bit trite, isn’t it?

“Likewise, distribution is in the same fashion. We provide ultimate freedom in this respect. Our guests are free to take from that which we provide whatever they desire.”

It is trite. Why bother with this at all? The particulars of this - in his words - ‘chamber’ are unique in the details, but the capacity for such base, violent acts has always been a latent aspect of mankind. Why else do we fear a siege of E-Rantel? Would not family turn on family, food a thing to be taken and devoured at all costs? Had I not known better, I’d have marked this cruelty for cruelty’s sake. No, there’s more here.

The pair approached the body, Renner tracing the little details of the boy’s form up close. There was a certain fascination the dead gave her, the same experience she had felt upon seeing Teloran’s corpse. The way painful positions were held without care, in this case, the awkward bent of his lower body from the mismatched way he had been hooked from his ankles. Renner was lost in his spell, her reverie only broken when Jaldabaoth took hold of the body by the arm and began to pull it forward. Pausing, he turned to the whole chamber, raising his voice as he did.

“To my many honored guests, I do pray that you will let me make the most humble of impositions upon you. If you would have it, I will be taking this individual… a little early. Do not worry, he will still count to your total.”

No responses came, the place almost silent were it not for the continued labor of the well workers.

He’s certainly instilled an acceptance in them, or perhaps compliance is a better word. Is that what this is? A test in doggedness? Obedience without loyalty? Surely it plays a part, but perhaps there is more. He mentioned my grand understanding of my kin. Perhaps this is that for him, a way to wrench all the subtleties from humanity they know not how to yield.

“Ah, speaking of which.”

Jaldabaoth, satisfied, turned to the right.

“The door.”

His voice was at once layered a myriad more voices, as if a dozen had spoken at once. A man in the pack suddenly went stiff, then marched over and opened it. Renner felt a mild shock at its having been unlocked, then realized that there was no reason for it not to be - only fools would subject themselves to the maw. It opened, Renner finding the gantry continued down a bare corridor wide enough for walking.

Compulsion magics? Just how many supreme works have these beings wrought? Even more surprising they have brought none of this to bear on me.

“I must say, I am quite proud of this room. They were the first to embrace our system. With luck, they will do so again tomorrow.”

Jaldabaoth lightly pushed the boy forward, both he and Renner slipping in, door shutting behind them. Jaldabaoth continued to prod the body, the two eventually coming to a junction where the rail above merged with several others. At that point, the carriage seemed to be caught by some mechanism in the line, jerking forward from Jaldabaoth’s palm and joining the others flowing along it. That there were others on the gantry at all seemed to challenge Renner’s initial math, and she took this as confirmation that only four-thousand had been set aside for the chambers, the rest sent directly to their killing. The regular, thin slits in each neck seemed to be evidence of this, blood dripping out into a long, grated channel that ran underneath the main gantry rail for the collection of fluids.

“The human body yields a number of useful materials.”

Renner turned her attention away from a flume in the channel - frothing with vital foam - to see that Jaldabaoth had doffed his mask.

“In terms of raw commodities, the average individual contains roughly thirteen tenths of one of your standard weights of blood; the total weight of bone is on average around twenty-four tenths of a standard; fats, thirty-two tenths.”

Rounding a corner along with the tracks, Renner watched as they stepped out into a much larger space, in this case, a full-scale abattoir. Something on the order of a hundred demons occupied the space, the main line splitting into four snaked pathways, bodies being split each way evenly by whatever mechanism propelled the carriages. Renner and Jaldabaoth followed along the leftmost track, she marveling at the sight of a gently swaying curtain of corpses.

If my memory does not fail me, during the Vampiric Crisis, I suspected some fate like this for mankind. It was a wild madness at the time, but now it seems I was wholly correct. Why, in point of fact, my dear Chardelon, humanity is indeed nothing but chattel.

“In addition to nutritional value - something shared with the meat and organ tissue - these materials have some utility in the domain of agriculture - as fertilizer, or as slow burning fuel.”

The first of the lineworkers was a demon not much larger than her, using a large pair of shears to swiftly sever clothing along the torso, sleeves, and legs, before grabbing and yanking down quite forcefully to disrobe individuals. Renner absently watched the process done on a man roughly in his thirties, and before she could think to react, saw him stripped bare before her.

Eh? Between his legs… is that what men have? It looks so… so, different from my expectations.

Renner’s mind was set aflame, and she resisted the urge to approach the body and inspect its sex more fully. By the same token, her bold thoughts were at once met with shameful ones, leaving her cheeks suddenly a little warm. She quickly realized just how wrong many of her imaginings about Climb were, this bringing about its own feelings of embarrassment to top of the rest. The sight was scandalous, and she flitted her gaze away, doing her best to set herself back on Jaldabaoth’s words.

“Bone is of special note, being critical in the necromantic arts, serving as a physical catalyst for the creation of many undead beings. However, the most valuable component of the human body is its skin.”

The now naked bodies continued on to a large, rectangular oven, a gyre of flame only barely contained within. At the speed of the line’s movement, they only spent ten to twelve seconds inside, exiting slightly bronzed and without hair.

“The average individual possesses almost one standard weight of skin, something which amounts to thirty-eight square handspans of area.”

A team of demons set upon what left the kiln, dragging long gashes through flesh with stout and serrated blades. Different patterns were performed on different bodies, most of the men having their chests serrated down the inner sides of the breast, while most women were cut straight down the middle.

“From this area, twenty-two patches sizable enough for our purposes can be easily cut.”

Skin now flapped, the next set of fiendish laborers served to sever it from what was bound too underneath. Reaching between the cuts, they plunged in knives more akin to those used for paring, ripping the outer layers from the flesh below. When that work was done, their long, thin hands reached in and ripped away large patches, dropping what they harvested into what Renner could only reckon as being a mechanical channel. Jaldabaoth reached down into it and grabbed a sample, a bolt of flesh that had been part of a woman’s thigh a moment prior. Folding it in half, he handed it to Renner, she idly squishing it between her fingers as he talked.

“That patch of skin will be tanned and processed into parchment, where it will then be used in the crafting of low-tier spell scrolls. That patch, and others like it, will thus be transformed into a persistent and non-volatile store of mana, something that will allow casters in our service to transform idle reserves into magic to be used at a later date, reducing pool minimums and avoiding regeneration wastage. This is a material from your world that can be reliably and sustainably harvested, and represents a major advancement in our ability to create useful, practicable substitutions for previously limited consumables.”

Renner clicked her tongue, the error in her previous answer revealed.

Humans are not implements; rather, a resource.