Deus Necros

Inside the largest tent of the imperial forces a heated discussion was ongoing.

The invitation came from the prince to the high figures of the Holy Order that were camping next to them.

“I’ve said it before, that guy is nothing but a traitor, why are we even discussing this?! Let me go to the sand kingdom, and I’ll bring his head!” Hiro said as he raised his sword up in front of the royal prince.

Titania almost facepalmed, not for the absurdity of what was going on alone, but also the fact that Hiro was so far up his own ass he didn’t recognize the prince for who he was. Indeed, he was a double, but he looked exactly like the young man that met them earlier. But the hero was completely oblivious to this fact. The tent lamps threw steady light over silk and canvas, making the resemblance even harder to miss, yet he managed to miss it anyway. The murmuring of aides and guards dulled for a breath as the sword lifted, a small tide of held air that made the canvas walls feel closer.

“We have yet to fully understand the scope of the matter. So far Ludwig in the heart and eyes of the people was the savior. Regardless of what you believe, I am here in this forsaken place to meet them. Don’t do anything foolish, and stay put.”

The Hero’s eyes seemed to want to cry bloody murder, but seeing how every soldier and guard next to the royal prince were far beyond what he could currently handle he simply sighed. His knuckles stayed white around the grip a heartbeat too long, then loosened by degrees. Somewhere behind the ranks a buckle clicked and a scabbard settled, a quiet warning that did not need words.

“Don’t come begging me for help when he turns his sword against you!” the hero said.

“Don’t worry about that, we have the best the country has to offer when it matters to dealing with rioting brats,” the double said. And that felt like a stab at the hero. A couple of veterans coughed into their collars to hide grins. Hiro’s jaw worked, but he swallowed whatever answer wanted to leap out and burn the tent down.

From the side, the prince, was about to burst from laughter, he was completely inconspicuous as he was wearing his normal soldier clothes, and the hero didn’t even take note of him yet. The shadow of his helmet brim hid the amusement at the corners of his mouth. He shifted his weight like any other guard who had stood too long.

Next to the prince, Tull spoke, “Sir, shouldn’t we… you know, not be here.”

“And miss all the fun?” Alex giggled. “I wanted to see how this hero is acting. But unfortunately he is too predictable.” His voice rode low under the other conversations, easy to ignore if you were not looking for it.

“That’s what makes him easy to use, and the Holy Order is abusing that fact.”

“Still,” Alex said, “I’m glad my double is handling this in a good way. I was worried that he might be too lenient with him.” He watched the double’s hands. The posture, the little pauses, even the angle at which the man listened. A mirror trained from childhood.

“Sir, he was raised in the palace alongside you from birth, he will always act as you would.”

Alex interrupted, “Seems like we need to remove ourselves soon, Titania’s men are looking at me and back at the double, I might get exposed.” The glances were growing too curious. A paladin’s brow had creased twice now, and twice was one too many.

Alex gestured to the double who immediately noticed, “You there,” the double said, “Bring us some wine.”

“As you command!” Alex said as he gave a salute and immediately dipped out of the tent before anyone could put two and two together. The flap fell behind him and cut off the bright wash of lamp light, trading it for the colder blue of the night beyond.

Tull followed him shortly after as they headed outside the tent and into the cold desert night. The temperature had dropped like a thrown stone. Canvas snapped on tent lines. Stars bit down hard and close, unblinking. The breath that left a mouth came back as a thin veil of white.

“What now, sir?” Tull asked looking over his shoulder to make sure no one followed them, or had too many questions to ask.

“How are you feeling about heading to the Kingdom of the Desert?”

“I’ll be calling your father right now sir.” He already pictured the route of messengers and how much trouble could be packed into a single hour.

“C’mon Tull, don’t be such a boring person.”

“Sir, your father will skin me alive and hang me to dry next to my own skin if even a hair on your head is harmed.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle my father.”

“That’s how trouble starts, sir.”

“I’ll be going to the capital of the sands, and you’ll follow that’s an order,” Alex said, his face was both a mix of seriousness and a hidden smile at the same time. He enjoyed giving orders that sounded like dares.

Tull couldn’t help but release a sad smile, “Sir, you’ll be the end of me.”

“Many men wish to die for their emperor.”

“You said it, Emperor, sir, you’re still a prince, the second prince…”

“Ok, that hurt, and I deserved that, still you’d come with me, right?”

“I will, sir.” The answer had the weight of oath and the resignation of a man who knew oaths were sometimes ropes.

“Good, report to the double via letter. Although he works to be and act like me, he is still an agent of my father, if he were to know that I left, he’ll probably send message immediately. We’ll leave a letter for him to read tomorrow morning, we’ll leave this hour, get prepped up.”

“I’m already ready, sir.” Tull shifted the strap of a small pack at his shoulder that had not left his side in months.

“Good, then wait for me, I’ll go and grab a few of my belong…”

“I already have everything you own in here, sir,” Tull said as he held a small holing bag in front of the prince. The mouth of it yawned like a magician’s hat.

“And here I thought you’d actually try and hide my stuff so we don’t go.”

“I know better than to do that sir, not that it would stop you.”

The prince smiled. “Then, give me a moment to write him a letter. And we’ll head to the nearest oasis. I’m pretty sure that there was a report of a ship having docked there. I always wanted to ride on a Desert Ship.”

“As you command, sir.” Tull glanced back at the tent. Voices rose and fell, then steadied. He exhaled. The night stretched around them with its long patient silence.

******

Far ahead in the western regions of the Kingdom of the Sand a small ship with four people abroad was standing in the middle of the desert. The sound of metal being struck and the sighs of disappointment were the only things that could be heard alongside the low whistling of the desert winds. Heat left the deck in little breaths. Grease shone on knuckles, made little constellations on the captain’s forearms.

“D-don’t worry, just a small overheating of the engine. I’ll get her back on her feet in no time,” the captain said as his face and arms were covered in grease. He used a rag that only moved the black around.

Ludwig couldn’t help but be both amazed and stupefied. Amazed at how this small ship managed to cross such great distance in such a short time, and how they had to stay here for almost all day long because the engine overworked itself. The hull still thrummed faintly from remembered speed. The sand under the keel had packed itself like a road. But the smell off the engine was the hot copper tang of a thing that had run past safe.

The Guard Knight wasn’t impressed however, he was too uptight and was far too worried about invisible enemies. His eyes kept drawing a slow circle along the dunes, counting places a man could lie down and become a shadow.

“Hurry up, we’re like sitting ducks, if a sand worm were to come here we’ll be torn to pieces.”

“No sand worms come here in this place,” the captain said after he struck something and a crack sound immediately echoed after. Ludwig had the feeling that he broke something, but the grin on the captain’s face suggested otherwise. The captain listened to the echo as if it answered a question.

“How come? Aren’t sandworms migrating this time of year?”

“They do, but not this location, too many heavy rocks at the bottom here, it makes it hard for them to hunt.”

“He’s right,” Ludwig said, “There won’t be any sandworms here, I can’t sense their life force…” however his eyes weren’t looking at the sand like the guard and the priestess, his were looking far behind them in the darkness of the desert night. The horizon wore a thin silver edge. Their breath went white and then vanished. He tasted the shift in the air the way he tasted magic, a small metallic thread that did not belong to wind.

“But looks like we’ll have company soon,” he said.

Just then, the guard knight turned to the same direction Ludwig was gazing at. A couple of lights seemed to be approaching from the distance, and just as they got close enough, the lights turned off. Darkness closed like a curtain. Something low thunked once, as if a hook had touched wood far away.

“And that company isn’t looking too friendly,” Ludwig rubbed the bottom of his ring calling out Durandal. The ring answered with its soft familiar weight, the unsheathing sound tucked into the night so neatly it felt like part of it.

[You are in a Hostile Environment]

And that confirmed it. The message hung in front of his vision with its indifferent clarity. He shifted half a step to put the priestess behind the line of his shoulder without making a show of it. The captain set down a wrench with quiet care and wiped his palms again, then failed to find any cleaner spot on the rag. The Guard Knight angled his body between the deck light and the priestess, turning his sword just enough to let the blade catch a sliver of starlight.

The desert breathed. Somewhere out there sand sighed against leather. Somewhere metal spoke to metal and fell silent. The night waited to see who would speak first.