Lamb to the Slaughter – 6.5

Previous                                                                                                                    Next

“The man driving the carriage was Mr. Percy,” Mary said.  “Not exactly him, the hair was a little different, but I recognized him.”

“Appearances can be easily changed,” Hayle mused.  “If anyone would recognize him, it would be you.”

“Yes, professor,” Mary said.

The Lambs were assembled in Hayle’s office.  We were lined up in front of his desk, while the old man sat, arms folded in front of him.  His hair was shorter than it usually was, more neat, and his lab coat was immaculate, without wrinkle or speck.

The Duke’s presence reached even this far, from Claret Hall.

Hayle glanced at me, then back to Mary.  “Mary.  Not to put too fine a point on things, but Sylvester reported to me at the time of your recruitment that you have a command phrase.  If he utters it, you might be a liability?”

A dark look passed over Mary’s expression, not that she’d been bubbles and sunshine a moment before.  “Yes sir.”

“Perhaps it would be best to keep you away from this altogether,” he said.  “You’re collectively overdue for your appointments, which have been sporadic at best while you’ve been away, and I know there are places where we could make use of you, once those are done.”

I wasn’t Hayle’s friend, I didn’t even necessarily like him, but I respected the man.  In this, right here, he was proving he had the right to that respect.  I’d communicated the situation to him, I’d asked him to take Mary on as one of the Lambs, and he’d agreed, after a long evaluation period and some research.

I’d told him the truth.  That Percy had escaped, leaving a note for Mary.  Where she’d been led to think it was a command phrase to turn her into a reckless killing machine, with me doing some of the leading, it had been a genuine goodbye, meant to express to her how fond he was of her.  The command phrase hadn’t existed.

Now the man was back in the picture.  He now knew, presumably, that she was counted among the Lambs.  If those feelings still held true then the man posed more problems than his penchant for cloning alone.

Hayle knew, and he was steering us away.

“There are stirrings of a cult in the Capitol.  If we-”

“No,” Mary said.

Hayle raised his eyebrows.  “Beg pardon?”

“I want to see this through.  Please.  I have to.”

Again, he glanced at me.

I wished he wouldn’t do that.

I parted my lips to speak.

“Why, Mary?” Gordon asked, before the sound had left my mouth.

No, don’t give her a chance to justify her position!

“Because he made me.  He can unmake me, if we let him.  I can’t let someone else handle this and know that if he gets away, I’ll have that hanging over my head forever.  We know now that they’re slippery.  These women are his new clones, with the same idea as before.  Except… less intimate.  Unless there’s a trick we haven’t caught on to, the only way we’re going to catch them is if we bait them.”

“Believe it or not,” Hayle said, “the Academy has invested a lot in this project over the years.  Time, effort, energy, mine above all.  I would rather not have it go to waste by sending Lambs in as bait against a threat we do not totally understand.”

“We understand!” Mary said.  “That’s what we do.  You’ve sent us in against worse, with frequency.  We assess threats, then we devise solutions.  How is this different?”

Well.  That was a problem.  Mary was emotional about this.

I had a horrible sinking feeling in my gut.  Things had shifted to the point where, no matter what path we took, there was either a general sort of awful or a risk of a worse sort of awful.  Hurt feelings and confusion, or danger of white lies being exposed.

“Dog and Catcher can track them down.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Gordon said, “But Dog and Catcher just came back from the field.  This is their time to rest.  They’ll be fatigued, hurt, distracted, they’re not approaching this fresh.”

“It’s your time to rest,” Hayle said.

Gordon shook his head, “It’s been a while.  We’ve rested.  We’re raring to go.  You can’t deny that this is important.  This is big, if our instincts are right.  I agree with Mary.  I don’t share her reasons, but we can do this.  We should.”

“It is important.  That’s why that I don’t want a possible liability in the field,” Hayle said.

Mary tensed, flinching as if she’d been hit.  Hayle noticed.

More gently, he said, “I respect the work you do, Mary.  It took some convincing on Sylvester’s part for me to bring you on board.  That you’ve worked out as well as you have has been to your credit and Sylvester’s.  I’ve never been quite so glad to have my doubts banished as they were on this.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, relaxing a bit.

I reached out for her hand, to hold it.  She pulled away as if I’d stung her.  She clasped her hands in front of her instead.


Hayle continued, oblivious, “That said, there’s a danger, I want to keep you with us, and that means treating this situation with care.  If we acknowledge that the Lambs are the best way to handle the task, we might need to compromise.  I want you to sit this one out.”


“No,” she said, not an eye’s blink after he’d finished speaking.

Glancing at her, I could see her expression.  Stricken.  Scared?

This was Mary laid bare.  Defenses stripped away.

I knew why, and my heart fell.

Mary is and always has been afraid of being alone.  It’s the fulcrum point I used to leverage her into the Lambs, and right now, right here, she’s isolated.  She’s been reminded of our mortality, that she might lose any of us.  To take her now and make her sit this out, it could drive a wedge in, if she even listened.

She was disconnected, at risk of detaching from the group, breaking ranks or losing faith and friendship.  With our recent interaction, I wasn’t sure I was in a position to bring her back in.  She’d pulled her hand away.

“Sir,” I said, and I hated saying it.


“She should participate.  She knows Percy better than anyone.”

The old man stared over his desk and across his office to give me an unwavering, cold look.  I knew he was weighing odds and considering all the factors.

To trust Sy, or not to trust Sy?

He’d been trying to keep her out of this because of the details I’d shared.  Now I was telling him to do the opposite, and I wasn’t in a position to explain.

“Alright,” he said.  “I’ll let people know what you’re doing.  We have birds going out to other Academies.  We’ll ask for them to keep an eye out for anything that looks like this.”

Jamie spoke up, “If it’s Percy, then it’s very possible that the women will meet the same physical descriptions.  It’s easier to make more of the same than to make individuals.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hayle said.  “I’m taking you all at your word when you say you can do this.”

I didn’t miss the momentary, pointed look that he gave me, as he said that last bit.  The message was clear.

“Keep me up to date,” he said.  “And check in with your supervising doctors.  Remind them about your appointments.  See if they can make the time.”

We turned to go, exiting Hayle’s office.

The upper portion of the Tower had no stairs.  The hallways sloped, something I’d always considered to be a nuisance.  Stairs could be taken two at a time, going down, while the gentle slope only made walking difficult.

Little white birds had settled on branches that framed the windows, moving and fluttering as we made our way down to the next available floor with a stairwell.

A young woman in a white lab coat hurried past us, head down, clutching books and papers to her chest.  She looked at us, almost stopping, eyes wide, then seemed to change her mind, heading up the hall.


I craned my head, looking back, to see if there were any clues.

“What was that about?” Gordon asked.  He was looking, too.

“I’ve seen her before,” Lillian said.”

“Her name is Anne,” Jamie said.  “She works downstairs.”

“Of course you know that,” Gordon said.

“And in the bowels,” Helen said.  “She turns up a lot here and there, because Hayle supervises her.”

I cast another glance upstairs.  With anyone and everyone, I now had to think in terms of Percy’s work.  Whether she was a danger.

But the others were vouching for her, and, everything else in consideration, it didn’t make sense that there would be clones this deep in the Academy.  If things were that bad, we’d already lost.

“She was scared,” I observed.

“Thought it was something like that,” Gordon said.  “Going up, only person she could be going to would be Hayle.”

“She works on the tree structure,” Jamie said.

“Ashton’s old project?” I asked, suddenly spooked.

Jamie nodded, silent.

“I didn’t think that was a project which would have emergencies,” I said.

“It’s not,” Jamie said.

“There was one with me, once,” Helen said, smiling.  “My first time out of the vat.  I was only half as tall as I am now.  I opened my eyes and wanted to give someone a hug.  They shot me.”

“Charming,” I said.

“The tree structure is different.  This would have to be something else,” Gordon said.

Mary remained silent, one hand moving to her side, thumb hooking under the side of her skirt, no doubt to touch one of the knives there.  Reminding herself it was there, being prepared and primed for danger.

Lillian reached out with one hand, touching Mary’s.  Mary flinched, then let Lillian take her hand.

Walking behind her, I could see muscles in Mary’s shoulders relax.

Jamie elbowed me.

I glanced at him.

His expression blank, he didn’t say or do anything else.

I elbowed him back, and he smiled a little.

Then we rounded another corner, and I could see people clustered outside the door of a lab.

Again, the attitude was spooked.  One of them was brushing at his coat with his hands.

In another section of Radham academy, a doctor being very scared about what they had on their coat would have been a reason to start running.  Here, it was only very concerning.

“What’s going on?” Gordon asked them.

“Anne didn’t tell you?” the doctor nearest us asked.

“Tell us what?” Gordon asked.

The echoing tramp of footsteps made the doctors turn, backs straightening.  I connected the dots in the last possible second, not fast enough to do anything about it.

He rounded the corner at the far end of the hall.  As he reached the window, he extended a long arm and rapped the window, startling the birds just outside the window, scattering them to the air.  A smile touched his lips.

He was taller than a man should be, and he was beautiful.  His overall appearance made me think of the face cards of a deck of playing cards.  All of the pieces put together could have and should have made him look inhuman, but they only barely toed the ‘human’ side of the line.  Shoulders and upper chest broad, waist narrow, legs lean, features sharp, with long arms and legs.

His blond hair was parted sharply, the majority of it tumbling down one side of his face and down one shoulder, more extending straight back behind him.  His clothes were as fine as clothes got, with a decorated jacket in black and gold, the tail of it extending behind him, nearly to the ground.

Despite the heavy clothing, he had alabaster skin, without the slightest shine of sweat.  He could have been sixteen or thirty, none of the usual indicators were there, but he carried himself like a sixteen year old might, while logic and what I’d heard of the man told me he was much older.  He loomed, slouching just slightly, as if under the weight of the golden spill of hair and the heavy jacket.

My assessment of him was interrupted somewhat, as I was falling to one knee as soon as he appeared.

“Hm,” he made a sound, amused.  The voice was deep.  Altered, augmented.

I stared only at the ground, kneeling, head down.

Only years of training my poker face kept me from flinching as his fingers touched my head, running slowly and absently through my hair.  It was still damp from my trip over to the Tower, a little tangled.  I felt stabs of pain as very strong fingers tore past one or two snarls.

The hand disappeared.  There was a long pause.

“Stand,” he said.  “Let me get a better look at you.”

As one, we stood, straightening.

It was the eyes that got me.  They were eyes that made me think of countless people we’d gone after and killed.  People who’d been pushed too far, or who’d gone over the edge before we even found them.  A little too much in the way of whites around the edges, they didn’t blink enough.  Tension did it, adrenaline pumping hard and fast through the veins for too long, muscles too tight in the face.  People under a deep, profound, long-term sort of stress and those with mental illnesses often had those eyes.

He didn’t strike me as someone who was under any stress.  His movements were too languid.

“The Lambs,” he said, voice quiet and tender, yet still deep enough to reverberate, nearly musical in tone, “I was looking for you.”

We’ve been actively avoiding you, I thought.

The Duke of Francis was accompanied by four doctors.  All four stood behind him, waiting for instruction.  We were frozen.  There was no talking without being asked to speak.  No moving without permission to go.  From the time he’d been born to now, his world had revolved at his whim.  Only his family members would be able to gainsay him or check his conduct.  As far as I was aware, the next member of the Crown was on the other side of the Crown States.

Long, strong fingers touched the side of my face, stroking me as if I was a pet.

His index finger slid under my chin, then lifted it, turning my face up, not so I could look at him, but so he could look at me.

Wearing the wrong expression could be dangerous.  If I looked like I was frowning or sullen, he might take offense.  If I smiled, he might be pleased with me, which could be worse.

“Hm!” he made that amused noise again.  His hand dropped away from my face.  “Look at you.”

I didn’t know what to do, so I kept my chin at the angle he’d raised it at.

He moved over to Helen.  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he stroked her hair, took the collar of her dress in hand and adjusted it, before bending down to tug at her belt, straightening out wrinkles in the fabric.  He touched her face, running a thumb over her lips.

“Beautiful,” he said.

Helen smiled.

The Duke smiled back.  “Those doctors that accompany me back there, they’re the best at what they do.  They create art.”

He gestured at himself, as if to demonstrate.

“They made me immortal, or close enough to count.  They made me beautiful, strong, and quick.  They made me dangerous enough to dispatch anyone who might seek to take my life.  Yet here you are, and you could pass for a cousin of mine, with the same treatment.”

Helen bowed a little, a coy smile on her face.

My heart pounded in my chest.  The Duke’s thumb pushed its way between Helen’s lips, then lifted one up, making her sneer.  Looking at her teeth, as one might the proverbial gift horse.

I clenched my hand at my side.

“You look like you want to say something,” he said.  “Speak.”

“I was crafted by Professor Ibott, lord,” Helen said, demure.

“Hm!” the Duke made that noise again.  It was probably a tic, or he didn’t realize he was doing it.  Or maybe he didn’t care.  “He’s made noises about wanting to dine with me.  I had a glimpse of him and I soured on the idea.  But seeing the work he does… hm!”

Of course Ibott wanted to secure a spot in the inner circle of the Crown’s elite doctors.  It was the next best thing to being royalty.

To secure him for the Lambs project, Hayle had pricked Ibott’s pride.  Helen might well have been made to prove that Ibott had what it took to earn a place in the inner circle, and now things were coming full circle.

Helen was undoubtedly a pawn that Ibott would sacrifice for the sake of his aspirations.

“I’ve been homesick,” the Duke said, as quiet as he was capable of being, with a voice and lungs modified to give him the ability to effectively address crowds.  “Having you nearby might be like having family close at hand.  You’d be little more than a toy, but wouldn’t that be fun?  You could play at being a noble lady.”

“Yes, lord,” Helen said, smiling.

There was no other answer to give.  The Duke had his own gravity.  Nothing went against it.  He’d grown up in those circumstances, and he’d been shaped by them.

I heard footsteps behind me, but I couldn’t turn to look without turning my back to the Duke.  Anna?

The Duke straightened.  “Professor Hayle.”

“My lord,” Hayle answered.

“I’ve been admiring your Lambs.  This one in particular.  Do you imagine Professor Ibott would let me keep it?”

“He likely would, lord,” Hayle said.

My blood ran cold.

“But I wouldn’t advise it, lord,” Hayle said.

“Why not?”  Vaguely reminiscent of the tone of a toddler who just had a treat snatched away from in front of them.

“She’s a praying mantis, lord.  Professor Ibott could explain.  She draws targets close and then kills them.  Ibott’s work is exemplary, but it would be improper, and there’s the outside chance that it might pose a danger, in strange circumstances.”

“Oh.  I don’t want her for that,” the Duke said, cavalier.  His hand cupped Helen’s face as he stepped past her, his arm extended behind him, as if to keep hold of a prize he wasn’t about to release.  He was moving closer to Hayle, as if challenging.  His tone was jovial, “But just in case, my doctors here will remove the danger and render her harmless.  Knowing what I do about Professor Ibott, he’ll assist in the process, to curry favor.”

“As you wish, lord,” Hayle said.

I watched as Gordon nudged Mary, who was standing behind Helen.

Mary had a knife in hand.

Having a knife in hand this close to the Duke, of all people, could be a death sentence for her and all the rest of us put together.

Casually enough that it wouldn’t draw attention, Mary extended the knife forward, and pressed the point against the back of Helen’s dress.  She pressed with enough force that it penetrated fabric and sank into flesh.  A spot of blood welled around the cut.

Helen didn’t move or jump.

“The Lambs won’t suffer unduly for the loss of one?”

“They’ll be less effective, of course, but no, not unduly, lord,” Hayle said.

I knew it was what he had to say, but I went from thinking the best of him to loathing him in the time it took him to finish the sentence.

Mary twisted the knife.  Helen didn’t budge a hair.

I couldn’t figure out the point or intent behind the action, if Mary had intended a different result or not, but Mary quickly resumed a normal standing position as the Duke moved, turning.

He still cupped Helen’s face.  He looked down at it.

She’d changed her face.  Not so much it was definable, but tension here, relaxation there, a fractional shifting of features, a smaller scale version of what she’d done to emulate Melancholy.

The Duke’s expression was haunting, or perhaps haunted.  Looking at him, I fully believed he saw through the ruse.  That Helen had made herself just a little bit uglier or stranger.  He wasn’t a stupid man.

He let her head drop down to its resting position, from where he’d moved it.

She relaxed her features.

He lifted her chin again.  She added the strange tension, even less than before.

“Perhaps not,” he finally said.  There was a long, tense pause.  “Professor Hayle.”

“My lord?”

“Are the Lambs at my disposal?”

“Always, lord.  They’re preoccupied with a task, but I can reassign them at a moment’s notice.”

“What task are they preoccupied with?” the Duke was all business now, Helen seemingly forgotten.

“A possible cell in the city, lord.  Someone the Lambs are intimately familiar with.  He’s creating augmented women to infiltrate our defenses.  He may be active elsewhere.”

“I haven’t heard of this.”

“I just received the report from the Lambs in my office.  You were the next to know, lord.”

The Duke looked down at Hayle, and I wondered how sharp he was.  He’d lived a lifetime with people dancing around the truth, trying to convince him to do things without outright saying such.  It would make anyone paranoid.  Whether it made him an effective paranoid was up in the air.

He turned, stepping back, studying us, evaluating us.  There was a coldness in those wide eyes, this time.  If he’d liked us before, I didn’t feel like he did anymore.

“Keep them on that task.  Have them finish it sooner than later,” he instructed.  That said, he swept his coat back and turned to leave.

I didn’t miss hearing what he told one of his doctors.  The acoustics in the hallway were too good.  “I want every file on the girl, and a meeting with Professor Ibott before the day’s end.  Verify-”

And then he was around the corner, out of earshot.

A simple fact check could be a devastating weapon.  If Ibott was uncooperative, if anything we said or did or implied was proven to be a lie, the Duke could end us.

A full minute passed before anyone felt safe to move.  The moment the tension was broken, the doctors in the hallway with us disappeared into their office.

“You stabbed my butt,” Helen said.

“I wanted to communicate that this was serious,” Mary said.  “I wasn’t sure how else to do it.  Sometimes you go along with things without thinking them through.  I was worried you would go along with him.”

“I like my butt, and now it’s got a hole in it!”

“Another hole,” I said.

“You’re gross,” Lillian told me, before telling Helen, “That’s fixable.”

“I hope so!”

“On your way,” Hayle said.  “Stay out of his way.  Check in with your doctors.”

We headed down, taking a more leisurely pace, to be sure we didn’t catch up with the Duke and his retinue.

“I like how he knows I have a perfect memory, but he insists on reminding us of things,” Jamie said.  “Also, can we not ever meet that man again?”

“Unavoidable, probably,” Gordon said.

“Nice play, Helen,” I said.

“Thank you very much.”

“We can’t afford to get on his bad side,” Gordon said.

“We already are,” I pointed out.

“All the more reason to wrap this up, neat and tidy,” Gordon said.

“I’m not disagreeing,” I said.

We made our way down several flights, taking the long route around the circumference of the building before we reached the top of the stairwell, leading down the rest of the way.

Once we hit the third floor, we began splitting up.  Each of us to our individual labs and doctors or teams of doctors.

I found my way to the small room where I so often had my appointments.  It doubled as a research area and a storage area for books and records.  Really, all I needed were regular doses of the Wyvern formula.

Huey was there.  A thug of a man, he was scribbling something down.

“Huey,” I said.  His pen scratched on the page as he jolted in surprise.

“Don’t do that,” he said.


“No.  Busy.”

“Okay, good,” I said.

I walked away.

Postponed for weeks, with no sign of letting up.  All hands were on deck with the war underway, and our teams were preoccupied with other tasks and responsibilities.

The others would take longer.  Their doctors weren’t as efficient as Huey was.  I went up a floor, instead, and made my way to Anna’s lab.

She was absent, still probably hiding in Hayle’s lab.

The lab was dark and surprisingly cool.  It smelled earthy.

The tree structure was growing at one end of the lab.  Roots stretched across part of the floor, wood stretched up the wall to the ceiling, and branches extended along the wall and ceiling.

I touched the bulge in the center.  It was cold to the touch, but the image it evoked was a warm one, a pregnant woman’s belly, fluid within and within that fluid…

It would have been nice to feel a kick.

A few minutes passed.  I told myself I needed to go down and meet the others.

I stayed where I was.

“I remember,” Jamie said, behind me, “Back in the day, I’d find you sleeping on the floor in here.”

I smiled.

“Do you remember?  I sometimes lose track of how far back other people’s memories normally reach.”

“I wouldn’t forget,” I said, still smiling.  “That tree was dead, back then.”

“Yeah.  It was sad, but it wasn’t…” he said.

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Wasn’t a bad thing?

A minute passed.  I managed to turn away to go.  I reached out for Jamie’s hand before I realized I was doing it, and he took my hand in his, book tucked under his other arm.

“See you, little brother,” I said.

Previous                                                                                                                    Next

91 thoughts on “Lamb to the Slaughter – 6.5

  1. Interesting… We finally get a glimpse of the crown behind the crown states. I feel this is some foreshadowing of sorts.

    Also, the arc title… “Lamb to the Slaughter”. Not lambs. I think this is important.

  2. Can’t wait for Mary to find out Sy’s a lying asshole and tear him a new one.

    I also would love it if Percy and his new crew assassinated the Duke on their way out of town. He’s one creepy dude.

  3. The Aristocracy were always going on & on about “proper breeding”, inbred streaks of piss that they are, not surprising they went the Can’t Argue with Elves route.

    • I was about to say he reminded me of the elves. Those fucking elves, with their depravity, callousness and glamoured-up looks. It’s interesting to see how the elite live in Twigland, but I hate this guy already.🙂

        • That’s kinda like saying that a shape with four corners and equal sides is a square, not a rectangle. You’re technically correct in that they were referred to as fae in Pact, but they’re really just different words for the same thing with origins in different language families. Fae entered English from French, while Elf is a proper Saxon (Germanic) word.

          • Even ignoring the Word of God, in modern parlance there is some difference. Fae are the tricksters who want amusement above all else, like in Pact, while elves bring up the high fantasy type more.
            This may just be a distinction I’ve made myself, but it is still slightly confusing.

        • Personally, I could do without the constant comparisons to older Wildbow characters, every time someone new is introduced. I think it detracts from the new characters while adding nothing of value. However, I so realize that getting what I want here is about as likely as me stopping reading the comments altogether🙂

  4. Place your bets here, people! Sy, Mary, Gordon, Percy, and now this foppish duke, someone’s gonna be on the cutting room floor by the end!

    Who’s gonna live and who’s gonna be recycled for their parts?

    (Percy’s making pretty women. The Duke wanted to take a pretty Helen. Think about that. Maybe someone tipped Percy off about him being here? Make more murder-suiciders, but for royalty, not teachers.)

    • Regicide is always a popular bet. Can i have the odds for Mary being implicated in the regicide even though it was one of Percy’s pawns due to the same DNA or whatever?

      • Pretty sure DNA evidence means nothing in the Twigverse. Cloning and genetic engineering is so trivial that your DNA could honestly be anywhere and no one would blink an eye…or in some cases, they wouldn’t blink your eye.

        • Unless they have a method of detecting clones. For example, today it’s currently possible to buy a centrifuge, separate white blood cells from red blood cells, and put in DNA (possibly from a hair) into the red blood cells, which don’t contain DNA in and of themselves. However, there are tests to detect these methods even if they aren’t commonly used in criminal investigations.

  5. I both like and am terrified of the Duke.

    He’s got a real sense of Nilbog on him, but with the experience of say, a more dedicated Regent or that Fae from Pact.

    A veneer of humanity, just enough that it makes his inhuman side all the more distressing.

    • Yes, that Duke is fucking scary. Scarier than any of the monsters, save only Sub Rosa. It’s the feeling that all control is out of the Lambs’ hands; their lives depend entirely on someone else’s desires.

  6. Man, the Duke! I like him. I took the whole “Crown taking direct control of the Academy” as placing some doof in charge so that they could remind themselves they are in power and mess everything up. But this Duke certainly is no doof.

    Is it me or Sy’s been very oblivious recently? And would his lack of appointments have anything to do with it?

  7. Oooh, ouch. That moment there with Helen, you could just feel the fear that the Duke would take her away forever. He’s a creepy dude. And Helen would have gone along with it-she’d have had to, she follows Ibott’s commands.

    The bit at the end with Sy saying hi to his little brother…that’s fascinating. He’s only ever really acknowledged family relationships with…I think Frey and Helen before, and Helen was him joking around and imitating the Bad Seeds. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Ashton and Evette 2.0, even if it does mean that the Lambs can’t all run away from the Academy.

    • Jack of spades?

      That made me think of two possible characters. It could be Jack slash, witch would be bad. Or Jack noir / Spades Slick, witch would be worse, and hilarious.

      • Well, depending on the incarnation, the homestuck runner Jack could be both weaker and easier to negotiate than Jack Slash (though if spades slick is the norm, equally smart)… its just that the Jacks we’ve been shown are kinda non indicative because of a certain billiard eyed being’s meddling.

  8. Hi everyone. I’m new to commenting but definitely not new to Wildbow. I read Worm as it was nearing completion. Finished just as Pact started and decided to wait until Pact was finished to read it. When i heard Pact ended, I reread worm, read Pact, and Ive just now caught up to Twig, which im gonna follow as it goes. Worm is probably one of my favorite books of all time and I recommend it to everyone I can. I also very much enjoyed Pact (especially after the huge leap in quality around halfway through. The girl in the checkered scarfs arc is one of wildbows best arcs overall, and after that the story really improves). Im excited to follow Twig as it progresses along with any future writings of j.c. mccrae 0u0

      • I think it would be that he is not used to having someone actively try to displease him. Everyone around him are yes men / servants, or at worst, trying to please him in order to get something they want. But people who can take action to displease him… probably only a few relatives, and most of them would be back over the puddle.

    • Well, he liked Helen because she reminded him of his family. Maybe altering her face to look ugly tilted her over from “amusingly familiar” to “Ibott is directly copying Secret Crown Techniques”?

  9. I feel like that bit in the previous chapter where Sy was briefly disturbed by Jamie being able to emulate actions he remember was significant.

    Wasn’t there someone who said that every time a point-of-view character puts some revelation by the wayside due to distractions, that revelation is significant?

    My guess is that Jamie becomes the Lambs. He may not have the right body for it (though with the Academy, bodies can be made and remade), but his ability to learn has clearly surpassed what his handlers expect.

    I kind of want him to visit Frey. Get a new body, wreak havoc through the Academy. Avenge his fallen siblings, taken from him by combat or “expiry” dates.

    The grace of Mary, the athleticism of Gordon, the manipulation of Sy, the charm of Helen, the knowledge of Lillian. Jamie could become the best of all of them.

    Of course, that’s too happy an ending. It would have to be far more bittersweet. Perhaps he dies before that potential is realised, perhaps the transformation kills the essential Jamie personality.

    Perhaps he doesn’t end up on the same side as Sy.

    • Something that I thought of about Jamie. His expiry is that one day the vat brains won’t give him back. Well if his mind is intact in there, then could he not be transferred into a new body?

      • Well he uploads EVERYTHING in his brain to the vat brain database thing (brain-base?). They reorganize, compact, and give the information back to his brain, which probably involves literally recreating the neural pathways of the lifetime’s amount of memories and details.

        If something goes wrong and the vat brains don’t reissue the information back out, there’s no way to get “Jamie” back. He’d be lost in the tiny details of everything he’s ever experienced, seemingly impossible to separate his personality and thought process from the other data going around.

        If they cant put him back in his body, it means he’s gone for good and can’t go into any body

    • Well, he IS project caterpillar…. makes sense for his final form to be the perfect Lamb.

      I mean think about it. Helen can become anyone in any situation almost perfectly, even freaking sy out with the degree and quickness of the personality changes.
      Sy can understand and control anyone and any situation, given enough time and information.
      Gordon is meant to have the best parts of anyone and anything, to be a Griffin and have the best qualities of the best creatures around.

      Mary is a literal perfect killing weapon with insane aiming ability that would make sanguine impressed, since she has normal ish eyes.

      Lillian knows a little bit about everything and while she isn’t a Lamb, her knowledge at a young age and skill even though she’s a child is amazing.

      To be able to remember everything about all of them and recreate their skills is probably the end game for the lambs.
      Think about it. Sanguine and his three palls were told at the end, the various senses of each would be combined. Why would this project be any different?

      Jamie would be able to recreate the skills, ability, knowledge, and techniques of all of them, while Gordon would have the perfect body but need a new mind, and Helen could provide new parts, as she can reconfigure her body structure, theoretically she could change other things like her gender (perfect for Jamie the perfect super spy), and Sylvester’s formula can be given to anyone….

  10. After meeting the Duke, I fear for the future of the crown states, the lambs, and the planet in general. Hopefully the remainder of the Crowns nobility are a bit less… Uh what would be a term here. Prize Rooster?

    At this point I think the Penguins taking over the earth would make it better.

    • From this chapter:
      Huey was there. A thug of a man, he was scribbling something down.

      From 1.12:
      My two remaining team members were Dewey and Alton, puffing away at cigarettes.

      Did Sy gain another team member, or is it supposed to be Dewey?

  11. I really wonder what’s so special about Ashton. He seems to be totally lab-grown, like Helen, but he’s not grown in the bowels so he shouldn’t have been tailored as a physical threat. Information gathering like Jamie, maybe? The network of branches in his room reminds me of what was in Jamie’s caterpillar room.

    • Maybe a vegetal-animal hybrid lifeform ? Would be able to interact with flora, or at least to interpret the various chemicals they emit correctly, and maybe ‘order’ how to grow.

      In a world where buildings are made of trees, that could be quite useful for spying, or locking people inside their home.

      • Oooh, that’ll be interesting. It seems unlikely to me though; the Academy seems to dislike creating experiments that can be scientists in their own right, like how Jamie is forbidden from reading Academy texts. But who knows, he’s grown in a tree for a reason and might very well be a plant-animal hybrid. Such hybridization is shown to be possible through the plant-rat the Lambs saw earlier.

  12. I’m curious as to how the royals keep their enhancements from being more widely used. I’d think there’d be at least one scientist who’d be willing to risk their life for being practically immortal.

  13. You know, I wondered why more doctors didn’t go in for serious self-modification. We’ve seen them take performance enhancers and do cosmetic work, but not major refits. Maybe that is the prerogative of royalty.

    Man, the Duke is scary. Immortal, resistant to injury, and well on the way to being completely inhuman. By keeping multiple doctors he significantly lowers the chance that one can control him. The future looks very bleak with things that in charge.

    • It’s also possible it’s not strictly a royal perogative, but it actually takes a dedicated team of doctors to make it work and most people can’t afford it.

Leave a Reply. No spoilers for other Wildbow works!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s