Deus Necros

Once the ceremony was over, Van Dijk noticed his father and sister Celine speaking in hushed tones near the edge of the grand hall. The two of them had a serious air about them, their expressions tight and focused. Curiosity piqued, Van Dijk made his way over to them, his polished boots clicking softly against the marble floor.

“It’ll take a week,” Celine was saying, her voice low but firm. Her military uniform, though pristine, seemed to carry the weight of her responsibilities.

“You can handle them, then. You’re the most reliable out of all your brothers,” Dante replied, his deep voice carrying a note of confidence. His eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of concern.

Just as Van Dijk approached, the two of them seemed to shift, their expressions softening as they turned to face him. “Van Dijk, I’m glad nothing went wrong with the wedding,” Celine said, her tone light but her eyes still sharp.

“It’s almost as if you mean you hoped something would,” Van Dijk replied with a teasing grin, though his gaze lingered on his sister’s face, searching for any hint of what they had been discussing.

“The other way around,” Dante interjected, his voice carrying a rare warmth. “She was actually about to start swinging her sword if any of your brothers objected. But they were sensible enough not to.”

Van Dijk chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “Still, Father, I’ll need to head to the capital tomorrow. Though it’s sad I can’t stay a while longer with my wife,” he said, his gaze drifting across the room to where his new bride stood. The silver-haired, blue-eyed woman in white was surrounded by well-wishers, her laughter carrying through the hall. Van Dijk’s eyes softened, filled with longing and genuine care. “I’ll leave her in your hands,” he added, turning back to his father.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Dante said, his voice steady. “Go do your thing in the capital. Once you’re secured, I’ll send for you.”

Van Dijk nodded, though a shadow of concern crossed his face. “Just be careful. The disappearances are weighing on me.”

“No need to worry,” Dante assured him. “Since last week, I’ve already tripled the guards and improved security. I’m also planning on mentioning this to the Duke.”

“He didn’t come today, did he?” Van Dijk asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“He sent one of his sons, but I didn’t see him since he first showed up. I guess he already left,” Dante replied with a shrug.

“He did the bare minimum of showing up, so it’s fine,” Van Dijk said, his tone dismissive but his mind already moving on to other matters.

The three of them continued their pleasantries, the conversation light and filled with the warmth of family. But as the majority of the guests began to leave, Van Dijk felt the weight of the night settling over him. He soon took his wife’s hand and left for the night, the echoes of the celebration fading behind them.

Come morning, Van Dijk stood outside the Bastos Palace, the crisp air carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. A carriage, so luxurious it could easily be mistaken for a royal one, was stationed at the entrance. For the Bastos family, wealth and luxury were an everyday thing, and this carriage was no exception. Its polished wood gleamed in the sunlight, and the horses stood tall and proud, their coats brushed to a shine.

Among the servants tending to the carriage, Van Dijk noticed a familiar face. The old man from that time—his face covered, his posture slightly hunched—stood near the back, his hands busy with the straps of the luggage. Unlike before, where he wore nothing but a rag for pants and was full of grim and filth, he was now in a presentable shape.

“Oh, it’s you,” Van Dijk said as he approached, a smile tugging at his lips. “The old man from that time.”

The blind man turned at the sound of Van Dijk’s voice, his expression calm and composed. “Master Van Dijk, congratulations on your wedding,” he said, his voice steady and respectful.

“Seems like you found a job at the residence,” Van Dijk remarked, his tone warm.

“It’s all thanks to you,” the old man replied, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a clean handkerchief. He handed it back to Van Dijk with a slight bow. “You inviting me to your home had allowed me a new opportunity.”

Van Dijk took the handkerchief, his smile widening. “I’m glad things are working out for you. Though I wonder, how do you do servant work with damaged eyes?” he asked, his curiosity genuine.

The old man’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I don’t need the eyes to see. As I mentioned back then, one can have better use of his other senses once one of them is gone.”

Van Dijk nodded, impressed. “Good then, keep up the good work. I’ll come back in a month from now. If you’d like, I can take you with me to the capital then. They can take a look at your eyes there. I’ve heard they have incredible healers. If it’s not too late, they might even fix them for you.”

The old man hesitated, his expression unreadable. “You’re too kind. I wouldn’t dare impose.”

“No, that’s the least I can do,” Van Dijk said, his tone firm. “You’re one of the reasons why I got to meet my wife from that day. At least let me help you this once.”

The old man bowed his head slightly. “Then I’ll take you up on your offer, Master Van Dijk.”

Van Dijk clapped him on the shoulder before turning to the carriage. He climbed inside, waving to his family and the household staff as the carriage began to move. Little did he know, that would be the last time he would ever see them.

A couple of months in the capital had gone by absurdly fast for Van Dijk. In that time, he had managed to obtain full control of the business sector he was stationed in. Perfumes, makeup, and luxurious silk wear were in high demand, and thanks to the Bastos family’s backing, he had been able to secure the most expensive and sought-after items. His store quickly became the talk of the capital, with noble ladies sending their servants—and sometimes even coming themselves—to see this young man who brought materials from well beyond the empire.

Satin and silk, powders that could be worn on a woman’s face without causing irritation, and a blood-red rouge that drove women wild—Van Dijk had it all, and in bulk. While his competitors tried to undercut his prices, Van Dijk simply introduced new, exotic items that didn’t even exist in the empire. Within a month, he had recovered two-thirds of his investment, and by the second month, he was already turning a profit.

“Should be about time,” Van Dijk said to himself as he prepared to return to the Bastos March. He had mentioned in a letter that he would return for his family today, and the anticipation was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. He was eager to see his wife and daughter, but he couldn’t shake the worry about how his newfound success might change things.

He knew that once his wife and daughter joined him in the capital, his sales might drop slightly. After all, Van Dijk had become something of a sensation among the noble ladies, and his bachelor status had only added to his allure. But he was confident that his business would remain strong, even if the gossip died down.

Van Dijk’s carriage was already waiting for him outside, though it was a rental—nothing compared to the one his family owned. The journey to the portal gates would take longer than a day, but Van Dijk didn’t mind. He was too focused on the thought of reuniting with his family.

The day passed slowly, the monotony of the journey wearing on him. But the thought of seeing his wife and daughter kept him going. Letters had been a poor substitute for their presence, and Van Dijk longed to spend a real day with his new family.

When the carriage finally arrived at the Bastos March, it was the dead of night. The city was eerily quiet, the streets empty and the windows dark. A strange feeling permeated the air, heavy and unsettling.

It was dark… too dark.