Deus Necros

“You drive a hard bargain, Van Dijk, indeed…they are,” the Emperor said. “Everything under this land is my subject. But as my subjects have rights, they also have duties. Their right is for me to protect them from external forces and to guarantee them good living.”

Van Dijk drew breath to remind him, succinctly, how that had gone; the raised hand-shadow behind the veil stilled his tongue.

“And their duty,” the Emperor continued, “is to guarantee the safety of the empire. As you know, we are upon a great war with the Kingdom of the Sands. We have recognized that Tulmud’s royals have been in cahoots with the enemy. Thus their elimination.”

“Fair,” Van Dijk conceded, grudgingly, “if that’s what your intelligence is telling you. Still, too many died.”

“More would have if things were left as they were.” The words did not harden, but they did not bend. “The Holy Order was actively undermining Imperial law by converting the masses. They meant to ride the terror sowed by the Apostles of Necros to burnish their image and erode our protection.” ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novelFɪre.net

“And you ended up flipping it over their heads.”

“Indeed,” the Emperor said. “Though sacrifices were made, it was for the greater of the Empire.”

“You know well that things would have gotten incredibly out of control if the Wrathful Death made it to the capital.” Van Dijk explained.

A breath; a concession. “I must confess,” the Emperor said, “I didn’t expect them to be that insane. At best we thought they’d create enough trouble that it would not need our intervention. But once we realized that the thing you call… Wrathful Death had appeared in the capital… things went haywire.”

“Your Majesty,” the Gray Tower Master interposed smoothly, with a glance at Van Dijk that carried both apology and reprimand, “it would have been solved regardless of manifestation. Do not be too concerned for what my colleague is saying; he is agitated due to some personal loss.”

“So I’ve heard,” the Emperor said, voice mild, “the one who destroyed the Bastos noble house had appeared.”

“That’s something I’ll take care of by myself,” Van Dijk answered, and there was no flex in it.

“Still, I heard something else,” the Emperor went on, “that your eldest sister still lives. I must congratulate you for that. If you wish, I can return the Bastos land to your control.”

“No need,” Van Dijk said. “My place is at the academy.”

“A shame that you were captured by the Holy Order,” the Emperor observed. “Not much I could have done there; they had you under suspicion of dark magic practice.”

“Just the ramblings of fools and those who do not understand…”

“Still, what’s more is the shame that your disciple was branded a dark one. I would have been able to protect him if not for his sudden disappearance. Not to mention, news of his exceptionalism reached even my ears…”

Something small and bitter sparked in Van Dijk’s eyes; the click of his tongue was quiet but sharp. The Emperor knew too much; or perhaps, as ever, only what he needed to move the board.

“It is fine,” Van Dijk said, tamping the ember flat. “He can manage. Otherwise he won’t be my disciple. A little hardship is a good forge.” His chin lifted, a fraction. “Still, Your Majesty, this isn’t why you called all five of us, is it? Talking about family matters could be done over letters…”

“No. It is not.” The silhouette shifted for the first time, slightly. “As you all know. It’s nigh time the Tower of Trials opens.”

“Ah yes…” the red Master said, with a wolfish curve of the mouth. “That damned thing again.”

“We’d like you to manage it this time,” the Emperor said. “All five of you.”

“I suppose the imperial forces will be too busy with the Kingdom of the Sands to handle it, like always,” the Gray Master said, with courtly blandness.

“Indeed,” the Emperor replied. “It is but a request. You’re free to decline. Though I would encourage you to take it under heavy consideration first.”

It felt more like a velvet-wrapped threat than a favor. None of them remarked on that. They were old in this game.

“Regarding… the boy,” the Emperor said.

“I believe you speak of the young man who pushed the Guardian back,” the Red Tower Master offered, tone amused as if at a card drawn unexpectedly from the bottom of the deck.

“Indeed.” The Emperor’s voice thinned with irritation at the memory. “Though I find it vexing that all my investigation teams have led nowhere. He seems like a ghost, appeared out of nowhere, earned an adventurer’s merit, then did us all a great favor by sacrificing himself to clean up the mess in the capital. A shame… we could use more of his caliber.”

“I can organize a search party to head to Solania,” the Gray Master said promptly. “After all, my tower is quite capable in stealth and illusion. Even if it’s the domain of the Wrathful Death, as my colleague calls it, it shouldn’t be able to spot us.”

“There is no point in doing all that,” the Emperor said. “After all, the fall alone would kill anyone, not to mention the frigid environment of those mountains. Unprepared, one would die from the cold alone. He should long be turned to a frozen statue. It’s only a shame, however.”

Van Dijk’s fingers tightened, just once, inside his sleeves.

“Seems like I’m missing something, why mention that young man? Though sad as it may be, erecting a statue for him or commemorating his feats would bring little value, as he has no family to receive his honor.” the Gray Master murmured, the question polite.

“It isn’t about that, in fact, I already had him looked at for a different reason…” the Emperor said, almost idly. After a pause he continued “It’s Just that a brigade of my own guards stationed at a dungeon he was last to visit was found completely dead. So I wanted a word or two with him. Since he was seen accompanying your sister, she should know a bit more about the subject, right, Van Dijk?”

The hall did not change, and yet everyone felt the edge of it. The incense kept its steady slip toward the ceiling; the braziers breathed. Van Dijk lifted his gaze, slow as a man choosing which hill to die upon, and the air between the curtain and the masters took on the thinnest sheen of frost.