Like clockwork, Kath took Graft's prompt and let loose the floodgates. At once she began a nonstop torrent of description, relaying every pertinent detail and an abundance of irrelevant ones. If the rabbit she described typically inhabited wild areas, any facsimiles endowed with Salem's eyes would be out of place in a civilized setting, thereby being useless for the Director's purpose and good for little more than biomass. Admittedly Graft needed a lot of it for everything he had in mind, but in business efficiency was everything. No point in taking pains chasing after little rewards when better resources could be found elsewhere. So Graft attempted to steer the conversation toward fauna Kath might have spotted while in the village, creatures equivalent to the rats, pigeons, and other such tolerated vermin of Yggdrasil. It took the patient, dedicated effort of redirecting a raging river, but he managed to get her on track. After a few more minutes it seemed to Graft that the stream of information had devolved to more of a circular whirlpool, going nowhere and devouring his time, so he chose to cut it off. “Alright, that should suffice. Thank you for your cooperation.” He paused for a moment to hear her offer, smiling. “Ah, I would greatly appreciate that. Have a pleasant journey. Farewell.” 

Going quiet, he made to dispel the Open Line, but on a spur of the moment impulse decided to leave it open. Almost immediately he heard the recognizable voice of Ashara. From the exchange that followed between her and Kath, he garnered that there had been some sort of unwelcome presence about. The way they talked about it, specifically its aura, made it seem significant. To hear uncertainty and a little alarm in the tones of beings whose strength rivaled Graft's own was disconcerting. “Such power not only exists here, but reared its head so soon after our arrival?” he murmured to himself, his end of the Open Line muted. His duty to ensure the success and safety of Chateau Gothika demanded that he treat any potential threat with utmost seriousness, and this event kickstarted an explosion of possibilities in his mind. It could be that the region the Chateau appeared in was under the watch of some sort of authority, and that already eyes and ears hastened the guild's way to gather information about the intruding anomaly. 

An unlikely possibility, to be sure, but Graft could not afford to brush it aside. As one of if not the most intelligent denizens of the Chateau he harbored a responsibility to explore possibilities that others couldn't so much as dream of. [i]That[/i] was what it meant to be the Director. The Overseer of Operations. [i]He[/i] should be the one standing at Rodias' right-hand, not that trigger-happy flibbertigibbet. 

Of course, to prove it he needed results. Until now, he'd been tinkering and experimenting out of his own passion, filling time while he waited for the data he needed to accomplish the task given to him. But now he felt fire flooding through his veins, the drive to achieve a higher station and be able to accomplish more. The drive to be recognized, appreciated, and rewarded. Graft bent to his work, and his genius began to flow.

The machine of industry whirred to life once again. Graft barked orders as he labored at his table. His manufactories received new schematics and configurations, groaning and grinding into action, and deliveries started to pile up at his tableside. He sank deeply into his table's interface, moving its myriad arms as extensions of his body. Filaments and pincers smaller than a grain of rice manipulated flesh and technology on a minute level. Tissue and bone, muscle and nerve. Artery, organ, tooth, and claw. Circuit, diode, coil, transistor. He pulled apart, stitched together, and made new. A picture lay in his mind, clear as day, and like the sculptor freeing his vision from the block of stone he worked steadily to bring what he imagined into reality. Graft was in the zone. When speech came through the Open Line attached to Kath, he listened without breaking his focus. 

All the while, his dutiful guards patrolled the Chateau's entrance and the various floors, watching in eerie silence. They knew not to delve too deeply into Enderall, but what little they saw they stored neatly away.

[hr]

At last, Graft pulled his claws free from the table. They gave resistance, [i]shlorp[/i]ing wetly as he pried free of the connecting neuron-filled tendons that had sunk into his nanoflesh and joined him to the table to make one organism. He sighed in contentment, looking out over the smorgasbord he'd created. An Open Line connected him to his assistant. “Papillary, bring me some food and water. Prepare to show me what you've achieved with Tabula.”

A few minutes later her assistant found him reclining at his desk in his office. She approached quickly, placing the trey on his desk. Behind her, following her like a shadow, was the nightgaunt. Something seemed different about her. As he picked up and bit into his sandwich, trying not to accidentally catch mustache-hairs in his mouth in his hunger, Graft affixed her with the gaze of his mask's special lenses. Just one of his many achievements, it sported updated firmware able to run diagnostics like his operating table, taking stock of a target's attributes to return fairly accurate approximations of level, HP, and MP. With more testing and fine-tuning it could improve a lot, but he knew that a better option would be to procure enchantments from Oz. A visit to her domain occupied a lofty position on his massive mental life of things to do.

Then again, why go in person? He held up a finger to his visitors to tell them to hold on, swallowed his sandwich, then created an Open Line to Oz. “Hello? Hello? Oz? This is Director Graft. I'd like to place an order. Two glass lenses, an inch and a half in diameter, both enchanted. The enchantments I desire are Life Essence, Mana Essence, and Statistic Essence. We can discuss compensation at your leisure. I will send a Supervisor to pick up the items once they are ready.” A few moments later the Line went out, and Graft turned his attention to the others.

Even without the reliability of magic made for the purpose, he could get a pretty good idea of Tabula's status. Data from the mask flowed through his skin and into his mind, allowing him to guess her growth. [i]Ten levels,[/i] he concluded, frankly amazed. Her health and mana had increased substantially. Of course, he'd enhanced her growth rate, and his setup for giving her experience was basically cheating—a higher-level Guard with its mental state switched to hostile but its body physically inhibited so that it couldn't fight back made for easy and bountiful experience. But this was a revelation. It was possible for those other than Supreme Beings to grow like they did. Entities not born, but made.

He rose and approached her, feeling her arms. Where before there had been nothing, he could tell there now existed some muscle, and his knowledge of biology told him which it was. Not the lean sort that lent itself to Dexterity, but the thicker sort indicative of Strength. “What weapon did you give her?” he asked Papillary.

“Um!” the assistant bubbled. “We didn't have any melee weapons lying around, and she couldn't figure out how to use one of the Guard's guns, so I gave her one of their gas tanks.”

“I see. Was there any change to her behavior?”

Papillary nodded. “She started out completely blank, just mindlessly doing what she was told. However, as she kept smashing Guards, she...well, got more into it. Enthusiastic, even.”

Graft thought about that. It explained the subtle differences in Tabula's manner from her arrival. When he touched her, she had jerked a way a little, as if angry. “Of course. Starting with a blank slate, her character is molded by her experience. If violence is all she knows, violence is who she is. If her opponents do not resist, she will acquire a taste for beating on the helpless.” Now [i]that[/i] would be ironic. Graft started rethinking his strategy. He did not want to make her into a killing machine. A far more impressive and revolutionary achievement would be to cultivate a sophisticated, intelligent individual. He considered what role she could play in the Factory, and the Chateau. A dark knight, maybe? A lady berserker? An elegant assassin? A malignant caster?

An idea came to him, and he knew in an instant it was the right one. Ambitious, risky, maybe impossible. But all the more glorious for it. If he could do this, he could do anything.

Graft thought about how to approach Tabula. She stood before him, tired and sore, addled into agitation by combat, maybe resentful. She stood at a fork in the road, and he needed to guide her the right way. [i]What would Rodias do?[/i] Well, he could guess. Graft stepped forward, put his arms out, and pulled the woman into a close embrace.

“Please forgive me,” he said. “I thought that I could just build you up, not thinking about how it would affect you. You will not turn out the same as your creator. Not lonesome, spiteful, distant, and brutal. Instead you will be righteous. Strong, but deliberate, and kind to allies, working for the good of the guild. A Paladin, and then a Bishop. We will train you in Faith in addition to Strength from now on, and in less cruel ways. It will be tough, but it won't be suffering, and it will be worth it. You [i]will[/i] soar on those black wings of yours.”

Tabula was confused. It was an information overload. But she felt Graft's warmth, and his intentions. With nothing to go on but his actions, she chose to squeeze him back. Pleased Graft let her go and stepped back, hurrying to make preparations for his grand presentation. Papillary, wrestling with feelings of jealousy, asked him, “Sir, if we're going to train her in Faith as a Paladin, won't she need some god to believe in?”

“Of course!” Graft exclaimed. He extended a single claw, pointing upward. “She will worship the same god I do, the one true deity that governs all, orchestrating the movements of nations, forcing hands and filling minds to the point of obsession.” An unsettling, wide grin dominated his features. “Profit!”

He then hurried to make the last of the preparations. “Tabula, drop by the lab,” he said at one point. “I made something for you in particular. The first and only of its kind. An easy task by my standards, but anything is more presentable than what you have on. I hope you enjoy it.”

One last task awaited Graft before departure. A number of Guards had assembled in front of his lab. Standing before them, he extended his tentacles to plug into their skulls. For a technoorganism, memories were ultimately mere fluctuations in the brain, data that could be accessed if housed in the right medium. In a matter of moments he assimilated the visual and auditory data accumulated during their patrols, adding their memories to his own. "Interesting." Over the course of the trip, Graft mulled it over.

[hr]

Some time later, after Rodias had awoken from his night's repose and found a Guard at his door requesting a meeting, the doors to the Final Chapter opened wide. In marched Director Graft, flanked on either side by Papillary and [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/monstergirlencyclopedia/images/e/e1/78992710_p0.png/revision/latest?cb=20200119151734]Tabula[/url]. Behind him marched three ranks of Guards, all of them carrying something, with a few of them working together to carry larger items. Rubbery veils covered them all, keeping the various items hidden from view.

After nearing Rodias, Graft and his aides knelt. “Good day to you, sir,” he said. “I am pleased to say that after many hours' slavish work in my laboratory through the night, I have accomplished not just your task, but a number of other things besides. It was obvious to me that the assignment you gave me, so simple and mundane, was really a test to see how far above and beyond I could push myself. Just the sort of thing one might expect from a true overlord. I can only hope that I met your expectations.” Head bowed, he gestured at the Guards behind him. “I have for you an array of prototypes, projects, and proposals, awaiting your inspection and approval. Shall I begin the presentation?”