The doll's voice was clear and bright, melodic in the way only a cheerful little girl's could be.
Tom figured if he was going to make dolls, he might as well make ones he actually liked. He wasn't particularly drawn to children, but a well-behaved, clever little girl had a way of putting people in a good mood. The idea of crafting a perfect older-sister type through memory imprinting was far too complicated anyway - regardless of personality or skillset, they were all going to be working for him eventually, so it wasn't worth burning that kind of effort and time.
Besides, alchemical creatures were malleable things. Growing from a cheerful little girl into a composed, capable young woman wasn't out of the question at all.
"Hold on for now. Wait until your sisters wake up, and I'll sort everything out together."
"Yes, Master." The doll answered in her bright, crisp little voice, then turned her attention to her own limbs with open curiosity, flexing and moving them through a series of fluid motions, tracing magical rune circuits through the empty air.
Tom watched her and gave a satisfied nod.
Due to differences in spiritual quality, even identical dream experiences could yield varying degrees of adaptation among alchemical creatures. The fact that this particular doll had been the first to wake meant her aptitude was the highest of the entire batch. By extension, whoever woke last was, without question, the dunce.
...
Another half hour passed before the last drowsy, blank-faced doll finally stirred awake. The whole group immediately swarmed around Tom, chattering and chirping "Master! Master!" from every direction at once.
"Quiet, quiet - let me give you all names first."
The dolls settled down at once, tilting their heads up toward him with wide, expectant eyes, each one eager to hear what name she would receive.
Tom pinched his chin in thought. "You're the founding members of the Alchemy Division... so let's go with Lucy. Starting from Lucy Number One, assigned in the order you woke up. Do you all agree?"
"Lucy?" The dolls blinked in collective puzzlement, and then the first one to have woken raised her voice and led the charge: "I'm Lucy Number One!"
"I'm Lucy Number Two!"
"I'm Lucy Number Three!"
"I'm Lucy Number Seven!"
Tom caught that last one and turned to look at the dopey little straggler at the tail end of the line. He couldn't help it - he laughed. Lucy Number Seven? Actually, that tracked rather well. She just happened to come with two extra arms.
It's a widely acknowledged truth that the youngest child of any family tends to be the most pampered, and Tom found himself genuinely taken with Number Seven's endearingly vacant little face. Under the envious stares of her sisters, he reached out and ruffled her head affectionately.
The lifelike fabrication techniques he'd acquired from Nicolas were really something else. Felt completely real to the touch - no different from an actual person.
"Alright. Everyone remember your names. Now - we begin the examination."
Tom raised both hands, and the ground rumbled and groaned beneath their feet. In the blink of an eye, seven rectangular stone workbenches erupted from the floor. He then produced a wildly varied assortment of materials - some useful, many entirely useless - and dumped them all together into one great indiscriminate heap.
"Make whatever you're best at. No peeking at each other's work. Understood?"
"Understood!"
With their orders given, the little Lucys got to work. Tom had deliberately scrambled the materials into a chaotic jumble specifically to test their ability to identify and sort what was relevant - as much a filter for discernment as it was a test of craft.
Number One chose to attempt the most difficult task: crafting a Guardian Necklace. Numbers Two and Three both opted to work on the decorative cover bindings for the Owl Post address books. The remaining few each selected one of Tom's various other inventions, all things that had appeared during their shared dream experiences.
Only Lucy Number Seven chose the simplest items on the list - an anti-curse cloak and an anti-slip bracelet.
All seven of them stood directly atop their workbenches, four arms apiece flying in every direction. Tom had briefly considered giving them more limbs, but experiments conducted within the learning space had made it clear that beyond a certain count, alchemical creatures simply couldn't mentally coordinate the additional arms - the extra limbs became a hindrance rather than a help.
Four was the sweet spot. Two as the primary working hands, two more in a supporting role.
Because she had chosen the easiest subject matter, Lucy Number Seven finished first. She lifted her completed work high above her head like a treasure offering, eyes bright and hopeful as she turned to Tom.
"Master, did I do well?"
"Not bad at all. Achieving this level of finish on your very first attempt." Tom gave an approving nod, deliberately saying nothing about the difficulty gap, offering only measured encouragement. Number Seven's smile bloomed even wider across her face.
"Keep working hard going forward," Tom added. "Learn from your sisters. Master more products. Understood?"
"Yes, yes! I understand, Master!"
Watching Number Seven receive praise, the other little Lucys were simultaneously envious and anxious. Their already-impressive pace picked up by another three notches, and one by one they came forward to present their completed works.
Each had chosen something within her own area of greatest confidence, so the results were largely free of major flaws - every piece had, at minimum, reached a marketable standard of quality. Tom went through them one by one with praise, then set them all to follow Number One's lead in learning to craft the Guardian Necklace.
This, in truth, was what made alchemical creatures so extraordinary. Their level at the moment of creation was merely their floor. They retained the full capacity to learn and to grow.
In some ways it was reminiscent of the artificial intelligence of future generations - capable of continuously enriching a knowledge base through self-directed learning. But the key difference lay in the existence of spiritual essence. While their raw learning efficiency couldn't compare to the mechanical relentlessness of AI, the Lucys possessed a far richer and more varied range of possibilities.
...
"How does it feel? Anything you think could stand to be improved?"
With the little Lucys dispatched underground to grind away on his behalf, Tom turned to Ravenclaw - though the question carried just the faintest undercurrent of smugness, subtle but unmistakable to anyone paying attention.
A problem that even a legendary witch of your caliber found daunting, cracked open by a third-year student. Never mind how many advantages I had working in my favor - you have to admit, that's something.
Ravenclaw felt the wave of self-satisfaction radiating off him with perfect clarity. She let out a soft laugh and didn't bother to rise to it.