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“Ah! No, no, Manfred. That’s not how you hold a knife. Must we go over this again?”
Knives were pretty tricky for Manfred. He didn’t like how they slipped out of his hands whenever he picked them up from the non-pointy part, which apparently was very, very dangerous for anyone with skin on their bones.
Once he cut four of his fingers clean off while trying to chop an apple with a butcher's knife. Manfred chose that knife because it was big and blocky and he could see his reflection in it. Emmrich had searched for his longest finger all afternoon, which had somehow rolled underneath the stove in the Lighthouse.
Manfred was upset at first because he thought he’d need to get a new one. He really, really liked that middle finger. It had been a painter's finger, and Manfred knew almost everything about painting. It’s pretty colours, and how Emmrich’s face brightened like one of his fancy spells whenever Manfred showed him a new picture. But the day he cut off his fingers, Emmrich huffed and puffed the entire time until he found it, his nose doing the funny thing that made him look like a dragon.
Emmrich asked Lucanis to hide all the big knives after that. Sometimes, the assassin still lets Manfred see them if he asks politely, and especially if he’s absolutely sure Emmrich has gone to bed. It's their own little secret.
Emmrich carefully took the knife away from Manfred, positioning it the correct way around. He stared at the pile of Manfred’s squashed tomatoes for a long time, rubbing the middle of his nose.
“Again?” Manfred asked, reaching for another tomato. He could almost see the bottom of the basket now. When they had started, the different vegetables were stacked higher than Manfred and he had to stand on his tippy toes just to reach one.
“Perhaps, Manfred, it's best if I cut the rest of these? They may still be salvageable but I will have to rethink the salad. I’d hate for them to go to waste… especially after Neve’s valiant efforts to acquire them.”
Manfred rested his elbows on the table, leaning in as Emmrich sliced the tomatoes. Emmrich cut them so fast and so perfectly they soon turned into tiny squares. Manfred needed to get a good look, needed to get every detail so he could copy his master the next time he picked up a knife.
He got so close to the chopping board he could barely see the knife move at all anymore. That’s when Emmrich froze, looking down at him. His mouth was in a straight line, and he tilted his head back. This told Manfred two things: that he might be in trouble, or maybe he was about to get another lesson, so he better pay attention.
”Manfred?”
“Yes!”
”What's the most important rule when dealing with sharp objects?”
Manfred brought a hand to his chin, placing the other on his hip, pretending like he was Emmrich thinking long and hard when someone asked him a question about the Fade, or necromancy, or even about Rook.
“Sharp? Knife.”
”That’s correct.”
”No running… No throwing. No… putting in mouth.”
Emmrich let out a long sigh, like he was releasing all the air from his chest. And Manfred suddenly found himself thinking about breathing, wondering why people needed to breathe in the first place. If they were surrounded by air all the time, then why did they have to keep putting it ‘in and out?’
Manfred tried to make the same sound he heard from Emmrich, of what he thought everyone at the Lighthouse sounded like when they breathed. His ribs started rubbing together in a weird way that made him tingle all over.
“Manfred. Whatever are you doing?”
Manfred’s sounds got crunchier, louder, his jaw rattling.
“Practicing. Breathing.”
“That’s quite enough. If I ever had the misfortune of hearing someone breathe like that, well, I’d send them straight to the infirmary. And administer their last rites while I was at it. Now, back to our aforementioned topic…”
“Knives!”
”Yes. It‘s imperative we keep our distance, Manfred.”
“Oh! Distance… Stay. Away.”
“Precisely. It’s hazardous.”
“Hazard. Danger. Emmrich hates.”
“Indeed, to a certain degree, but it’s entirely for your own good. I shudder at the thought of any more damage happening to your form, Manfred, seeing as I’ve only just gotten you back.”
Emmrich moved his nicer chopped tomatoes to a separate bowl, then lifted up Manfred’s dripping ones. He carried them over to a small pot on top of the stove, dumping them inside.
“And it’s ‘I hate danger’, never ‘danger I hate.’ We are not speaking in riddles, Manfred. I will have to increase the number of our elocution lessons, it seems we’re not making as much progress as I hoped.”
“Class now?”
Emmrich shook his head, instead giving Manfred a big wooden spoon.
“We must make haste and finish cooking before Rook arrives. Now, could you kindly do me a favour and start mixing the soup?”
This was an easy task, it was just moving the spoon in circles, like the paint brushes he used before. Manfred tilted his head one way, and then the other, trying to decide where he would put the spoon first.
“Let it simmer, just like I showed you. Vigorous stirring will only ruin the consistency. We don’t want to make another mess either...” Emmrich said this a bit quieter, but Manfred could still hear him, “And I can’t afford to change my garments a second time.”
“Slowly. Stir. Stir!”
Manfred stared at the liquid, at the chunks of food that floated in the pot, until he saw bubbles forming, and then more and more appeared.
“Simmer!” Manfred shouted, pointing the spoon towards it.
Emmrich grinned from ear to ear as he looked at Manfred, nodding. He liked when his master smiled at him, at his books, and at Rook too. That’s how Manfred knew he was doing a great job, and that Emmrich was happy. And when Emmrich was happy, so was Manfred, even though he didn’t really understand what that meant either—just like breathing, people's emotions were confusing, but he knew it meant nice. It meant safe.
Manfred finally found the perfect spot to place the spoon, right in the middle of the soup and started stiring.
“Brilliant work, Manfred. Now can I trust you with this as I finish assembling the other dishes?”
Manfred stopped and pointed his arm towards Emmrich, turning his hand into a big fist. He then stuck his thumb up really tall, like a gravestone. Rook had taught him that one, and some other fun hand gestures, but she told him those were ‘inappropriate’ to do around Emmrich.
“What kind of…? Agh, I’m almost afraid to ask.” Emmrich shook his head and left him alone at the stove.
Manfred focused long and hard, counting to 10 and then stirring. And then counting again, and stirring some more. He wanted to stick his finger in the liquid and put it in his mouth, like he’d seen Emmrich do once or twice before. But that would only get his fingers dirty, and it wouldn’t taste like anything. Plus, the food would fall right out of his chest and onto the floor. And Manfred did not want to spill even one more drop of soup today.
While Emmrich was busy preparing the other food dishes he made a new, buzzing noise, like he was singing, but without words. His master did this a lot lately, especially when he started spending all his free time with Rook—almost as much time as they spent together with their lessons and tasks. The buzzing reminded Manfred of those small toys he’d find around Emmrich’s study. Those box-shaped things that played all sorts of songs, but only if you twisted the handles round and round. Sometimes Emmrich would even play a song for Manfred before the day was over.
“How is the stirring coming along, Manfred?”
Emmrich came back to the stove, looking into the pot.
“Yes, it looks nearly done. May I?” Manfred handed the spoon to Emmrich. He scooped up some of the soup, blowing on the liquid before he gave it a taste.
“I wonder… maybe it could use a little… oh! Yes, Manfred! I’d like to try some of that new spice from Lucanis. Would you be able to fetch it for me?”
Manfred approached where the spices were normally kept in the dining hall, right by the fireplace, but he stopped. He needed Lucanis’ spices, not the normal spices. And Manfred had seen where Lucanis kept his very special spices, because it was also the same place he kept the knives.
Manfred peeked over his shoulder, triple double checking Emmrich did not see him walking away. His master was too busy looking into the oven now, poking at some more food, to bother noticing him.
He opened the door to Lucanis’ room like he was sneaking around the Lighthouse at night, or walking around the Memorial Gardens while Emmrich messed with roses. Quietly and slowly. Very slowly.
Lucanis was snoring, talking to himself in his sleep again. He slept way more than usual since becoming closer with Spite. Manfred didn’t have time to stop and listen though, so he walked right up to the wooden shelves. He went straight for the big chest that was hidden underneath all the other boxes and sacks. It was so big Manfred could fit inside it. He tried it once, and Lucanis said it could hold at least two more bodies if he ever needed it to.
Manfred found the spices at the bottom of the chest, after moving through the knives he loved so much, and the other interesting shaped objects and papers that were hidden in there. Lucanis had a lot of spices, and Manfred was unsure which one Emmrich wanted, so he picked the jar that looked the most interesting.
He returned to Emmrich as fast as he could and gave him the spice.
“Ah, thank you, Manfred.”
Emmrich looked at the jar and turned it around in his hands, lifting one of his eyebrows in confusion.
“Turmeric? Is this what Lucanis was raving on about?”
“Orange! Like soup.”
“Yes, nice observation, Manfred.”
Emmrich opened the jar and measured a large amount of the spice he called turmeric, putting it into the pot. He stirred it a couple times, then gave it another taste.
“Hmm, perhaps they do turmeric differently in Treviso? A slight variation… but I suppose this’ll do.”
Emmrich placed a lid on top of the pot and moved it off to the side. He then bent down, removing a pile of dishes from a crate.
“Manfred, the dinner plates, please.”
Emmrich gave Manfred two big plates and he placed them towards the end of the dining table, where Rook and Emmrich usually ate together. When he was done, Emmrich gave him another set of plates, these ones were smaller and a different colour.
“And where do the salad plates go, Manfred?”
Manfred glanced at Emmrich for a moment, instantly remembering all the old lessons they had about properly setting the table.
“On top! On top of big plates.”
Emmrich nodded and Manfred stacked the plates on top of each other. His master gave him more plates and bowls and glasses that he set down around the others in a circle. When Manfred was finished, Emmrich handed him all the forks and spoons and boring looking knives. He laid those out as he had been taught, bigger to smaller. The last step was laying down the napkins, which Emmrich had folded into something that looked like a bird.
“Hey Manfred!” A familiar voice called out to him, “I see you’ve been hard at work. Don’t tell me Emmrich is giving you a hard time again?”
He turned around and found Rook standing at the entrance to the dining hall, waving at him. She was almost as tall as Emmrich, with pointy ears that sprouted from her cropped purple hair. For some reason, Manfred didn’t hear the doors open. Maybe it was because he was too focused on making sure everything was perfect, and that no fork or spoon or glass was crooked. Or else he would’ve greeted Rook with a big bow, maybe even another ‘high five.’
“Oh come now, Rook. You make it sound as if I’ve forced some sort of arduous labour upon Manfred. He is simply assisting. He does love being involved, even if he can’t partake in any of the fare.”
“Rook! Table is ready!”
“Oh wow, super impressive, Manfred. Thank you!”
Emmrich stood beside Rook, with his hand on her lower back. He slanted towards her and they pressed their faces together in what Manfred had recently learned was a ‘kiss.’ His master then led Rook to the table, pulling out a chair for her.
“Emmrich, I told you this didn’t need to be another fancy meal.”
“It’s no bother, really, dearest. Besides, it gave me an excellent excuse to dig out this old crockery from my residence in the Necropolis. It would’ve continued collecting dust otherwise.”
“The skull designs are a nice touch though, I’ll give you that.”
“I’m delighted you think so.”
Emmrich poured some wine into their glasses and took his seat at the table. His master never stopped looking at Rook, his eyes twinkling like stars and his lips growing bigger every minute Manfred stood there watching him. They held hands as they talked, playing with each other's fingers and laughing at jokes Manfred didn’t really think were funny at all.
Manfred wasn’t sure how much time passed before Emmrich turned to him and nodded. He knew what that meant, what he had to do next: it was go time, he would serve them food and refill their glasses whenever they got too close to being empty. Never keeping them waiting . Manfred brought over the bread first, the appetisers, and then the salad. After that he brought over the soup and the main dish. He was about to serve them the dessert, a fluffy cake Emmrich had spent all morning baking, when he heard Lucanis scream from his room.
“Who’s been—no! Where is it?”
Lucanis burst into the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own feet. When his eyes found Manfred he rushed towards him, putting both hands on his shoulders.
“Manfred! Did you take the po—”
Emmrich opened his mouth as if he was about to ask Lucanis a question, just as Rook unexpectedly fell out of her chair and onto the floor with a loud THONK.
“Rook! Are you alright?”
Emmrich jumped from his chair, but before he could even reach her he stumbled backwards, holding onto the table to balance himself. His face was scrunched up, like he had just dropped a book on his big toe.
“Spice!” Manfred pointed to the jar near the stove. “Borrowed!”
Lucanis’ head slowly moved to where Manfred pointed, his eyes getting wider as they stared at the jar. He practically flew towards the stove, picking it up.
“My word… my head. What’s… what’s the meaning—?”
“Please don’t tell me you used this?”
Emmrich looked up at Lucanis, his face covered in sweat.
“The turmeric? Of-of course, I only put a s-smidge into the soup.”
There was a long pause. So long, Manfred was about to ask Emmrich and Lucanis if they wanted some of the cake he was still holding or if he should maybe put it away.
“Mierda.”
“Why do you look…”
Emmrich’s face turned white, whiter than Manfred’s own body or any skeleton he had ever seen walking around in the Necropolis. His mouth fell open and his eyebrows crawled to the top of his forehead.
“Ah. Th-That’s not turmeric, is it?”
Lucanis shook his head.
“No! Special spice!” Manfred shouted, just in case they were still confused.
“Curiosity. Killed!”
“Spite. No.” Lucanis immediately cut in.
Emmrich fell to his knees, reaching for Rook. “Darling… C-can you hear me?” He put his hand on her neck, searching for something and sighed with relief when he found it. “She’s still breathing.”
Manfred wasn’t sure why Emmrich was getting so upset. He had seen Rook fall a few times when she drank too much of the wine, and they had gone through almost two bottles of it already tonight. Manfred knew why the assassin was mad though, because he took something from him without asking permission.
“Lucanis, might I-I suggest you mark your spices accordingly?”
“How could I call myself an assassin if I left my poisons so obviously labeled?”
“You didn’t think for a second one of us might've accidentally used it?”
“Of course not! None of you know how to cook.”
“What impudence! I’d like you to kn-know I am a perfectly f-fine cook.”
“Spices. Too hot?” Manfred cut in, putting down the cake. He poured some water into a glass, handing it to Emmrich.
“Manfred… oh my dear, Manfred. T-thank you. Pl-please put it on the table there. This is not… you could never have known...I mu—!”
Emmrich squeezed his eyes shut, still on his knees as he swayed back and forth. He placed one trembling hand on his head, his chest moving faster and faster. His breathing was starting to sound a lot like Manfred’s.
“I’ve doomed us all.” Emmrich whispered.
“Curiosity has hands. Hands that kill. Kill!”
Lucanis sprinted back to his room and returned in a matter of seconds, holding a small vial.
“Here, I have an antidote, but I must warn you… it’s very potent.”
“Rook… first, I insist.” Emmrich gasped.
Lucanis knelt by Rook, tilting her head slightly and pouring a few drops of the antidote into her mouth. She still didn’t move, but both Emmrich and Lucanis seemed to relax when she swallowed it—the assassin loosening his shoulders and his master falling onto his backside.
“Now you, drink.”
Lucanis quickly handed the vial to Emmrich. He grabbed it with both hands and finished it in one big gulp. He instantly started coughing, shivering even, throwing the vial away from him.
“Positively ghastly.”
“I’ve never actually tried it myself. I don’t usually hand out antidotes to poisoned victims. I’ll make sure the next one is more to your liking, when you inevitably get yourself poisoned again.”
“Very amusing, Lucanis.”
Emmrich held onto the table as he tried to pull himself up. He staggered dramatically as Lucanis caught him. His master leaned on the assassin for support as he walked him towards the doors.
“How about we take you back to your room, yes?”
Emmrich’s movements were a little stiff now, almost like that one time when Manfred skipped a ‘joint rotation day’ on purpose. He wanted to see what would happen and could barely bend his knees or move his arms. It was like he turned into a statue, which was fun, but he wasn’t going to do that again any time soon. Especially since Emmrich lectured him for hours on the importance of ‘routine and structure.’
“Yes, a-an excellent idea… but wait! What about Rook? She—I cannot leave h-her…I must… if anything were to happen, I wo—”
Emmrich pushed against Lucanis, trying to turn around but Lucanis held him in place.
“Manfred will watch over Rook until I’m back. Isn’t that right, Manfred?”
“Yes! Watch. Rook safe.”
“Thank you, Manfred.” Lucanis and Emmrich seemed to say together as they promptly walked through the doors, leaving Manfred alone with Rook.
Manfred sat on the floor next to Rook and rested his head against her body. He could hear her heartbeat thumping slowly and his head rose and fell along with each of her small breaths. He’d watch over Rook just like Emmrich did, that way his master didn’t have to worry. And he’d make sure no one woke her. As Emmrich said, it was ‘imperative to get a good night’s rest if one was to face the next day with success.’
As Manfred listened to Rook’s heartbeat, he wondered about the spices. When Lucanis got back he’d ask him about the others in his chest, and if that’s what usually happened when people put them in their soup.