The Hand That Mocked Them

Hieronymus approached it, drawing back the blanket a little to get a glimpse o the beast.

It had paled and become greasy, shining in the light.

Hieronymus wrinkled his nose. It certainly didn't look well preserved. He'd have to make some recommendations to Kivvien.

Kivvien returned a few minutes later with one of the smaller chests.

"You really should have salted this thing, or packed something cold in with it," Hieronymus said as he entered. "It's rotting; can't you smell it?"

"It hardly matters for what we need it for. Regardless, enough salt to preserve something of this size would take up too much space and weight to be practical. I wasn't supposed to run into any demons on this leg of the journey."

"My master always says to be prepared," Hieronymus replied. "That way you aren't caught unawares."

Kivvien grit his teeth and quietly got to work.

"May I help in some way?" he asked.

"No." He finished applying oil to his gloves and unwrapped the demon.

"I've assisted my master in dissection and vivisection before; I'm quite capable."

"Then prep the containers." Kivvien gestured toward the chest, then returned to his work. Several were already prepared, very possibly enough to host the demon's body.

He nodded and set about doing so.

Kivvien worked quickly, dissecting and placing various organs into jars filled to different levels with different liquids.

Hieronymus glanced at Kivvien every now and then but kept oiling the empty jars in case he needed them. "What will you do with this?" he asked, pointing to an unfamiliar gland.