Deus Necros

“Are you sure about that stunt?” Redd asked.

The office smelled of ink and expensive paper, the kind of smell that suggested decisions were made here that killed people far away.

Redd stood with arms crossed, still carrying the faint restlessness of someone who didn’t belong among polished desks and silk banners.

Both he and Tull were in a large office-like room, with the third prince smiling from ear to ear as he was signing some documents.

The third prince looked entirely too pleased with himself, pen moving with easy confidence. Tull stood straighter than anyone else in the room, the stiffness of a man who believed posture was duty.

“What risk? That’s a calculated move,” the prince said as he looked at Redd, “You look pretty handsome in that… you should take the opportunity to socialize when the party is held. I know a few good noble ladies who would be interested in accompanying you.”

The prince’s voice turned playful, and the compliment landed like a trap disguised as flattery. Redd’s mouth tightened immediately.

Redd was now fully decked out in Royal Knight armor. Prestine, red and gold quite matching to his hair.

“I will decline,” Redd said as he felt a terrifying aura behind him; his sister in spirit form seemed to be on the jealous side. Brother-complex type. Even he realized that.

The refusal came fast, and his eyes flicked sideways as if he could feel her hovering even without seeing her.

“I also need to figure out this first,” he said as he hinted at his sister’s accursed spiritual form, “Before I get to choose a lifetime partner.”

The hint was as polite as Redd could manage when referring to a curse that followed him like a shadow. He spoke carefully, like he didn’t want to provoke the thing behind him into doing something embarrassing.

“We’ll see how we can solve that, now that you’re a royal knight,” the prince continued singing. “Tull, how’s the preparation?” he asked.

The prince sounded delighted with every word, as if he could not comprehend why anyone would be tense. Tull’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sing-song tone, but he answered anyway.

“Everything is going as planned, the security has been maximized, three times over. Everyone who was sent an invitation was vetted several times over. The only issue is…”

Tull’s voice was crisp, the kind that made lists sound like weapons. His gaze tightened on the last line, and the hesitation before it suggested he already regretted saying it aloud.

“Don’t say it, don’t even think it,” the prince said as he continued signing, “Ludwig is a man we need right now, we can’t simply alienate him. Think about it, if the Sand Kingdom truly did give him an offer to join them…” he looked at Tull, “Do you think you can stop him?”

The prince’s pen didn’t pause, but the question landed heavy. “Stop him,” was said like it was a real possibility, not a hypothetical.

“I… myself, no, but we have a lot of powerful people in the empire.”

Tull’s pause betrayed honesty. The admission tasted bitter even in the air.

“And where are they right now?”

The prince’s question came immediately, sharp enough to cut through Tull’s attempt at reassurance.

“Exactly my point, so why are we inviting him when all the powerful people in the empire are at Solania!”

Tull’s frustration rose. The words came out more heated than usual, the crack in his discipline showing.

“You seem to have forgotten one thing,” the prince said.

He set the pen down with care, as if the document itself was no longer important compared to the reminder he was about to deliver.

“What?”

Tull’s voice was controlled again, but wary.

“Who’s my father?”

The question was simple. The implication was not.

“Ah…yes, though…”

Tull’s hesitation betrayed the uncomfortable truth: the Emperor’s presence was its own deterrent, and relying on that power was both reassuring and terrifying. He wasn’t merely a man with a crown; he was a powerhouse where it belonged.

The prince smiled as he signed the final paper, “This should be all for the work I have today. Redd, how about we go and have some fun?”

The smile returned, bright as ever, as if the conversation hadn’t been about containment and risk.

“I’m down.”

Redd answered too quickly, eager to leave the office air behind.

“I’M NOT! We’re in the capital, have some sense of decorum!”

Tull’s protest snapped out, horrified, as if Redd had suggested stripping naked in the palace hall.

“Tsk, such a tight-ass. We earned our break.” The prince said as he stretched his back, “Though I’ve been having a bit of worrisome premonition lately…”

The stretch was lazy, confident, yet the mention of a premonition put a shadow at the edge of his cheer.

“I would too, you gave Ludwig way too much attention with that statement of yours…”

Tull’s voice carried accusation, the kind that came from a man who could already see consequences rippling outward.

“Ah… the most competent servant of the empire, one who would fight gods if need be to protect us… well I didn’t exaggerate, you saw it yourself… that thing had the power to change causality with her words alone. I’m still surprised we lived…”

The prince’s tone softened, a rare seriousness threading through the playfulness. The memory of surviving something that could rewrite reality by speaking it still tasted unreal.

“Well, anyway, now he probably has too much attention on him… good and bad,” Redd replied. Redd’s voice carried a grim note beneath the casualness. Attention was a spotlight. A spotlight made you a target.

“Yes, but it’s good to build character…”

The prince smiled again, as if character was something one could safely build without paying in blood.

“More character than what he had?”

Redd’s question carried genuine disbelief.

“Ah… well, surely it’ll be alright, I mean, who’d dislike being popular?” the prince smiled.

While in another part of the empire, someone who was, albeit undead, seemed to be having very negative feelings for the living right now.

The smile lingered, easy and blind to the irony.