(27) Bury Them

Nephthys stood, feet actually on the ground this time, staring at the carnage. Her mind was in turmoil, though her body was calm. Before her were dozens of skeletons, the bones picked clean, shining alabaster against the mute red glow from the sky.

This outcome was obvious. She had ordered a demon duke to take care of the attackers. What was she expecting to happen? Did she think Horemheb would have taken prisoners? Maybe she thought he would capture them and…what then? Present them for judgment?

Would Nephthys pass judgment on them? Just days ago, she had adamantly declared that Nemesis was not a nation to Ramose, so who was she to pass judgment on anyone? What would she have done, anyway? Would she have imprisoned them? Maybe done the NPC conversion procedure from Prelude and held them prisoner until they decided to join?

That was a game mechanic. Such a process was, in the real world, inhumane. ‘Join or die’ has seldom been a slogan for forces history remembers fondly. So, what would her options have even been? Let them go? Allow them to walk free so they might eventually launch another assault against Nemesis? Or, even worse, let them walk free so that they could enslave other innocents?

There were no good options here, but Nephthys had not even considered them. She had no thoughts about the consequences of ordering dozens of people’s deaths. She had been in guild master mode, and when a rival guild attacked, one must retaliate. That was just how things were in Prelude.

This is not a game.

Nephthys’s head throbbed. Her mind felt swollen, the thoughts slamming around inside her skull. Her impassive body refused to allow any emotions to externalize, and she felt like they were backing up, damaging her internally.

The beginnings of a portal began to manifest next to her, but with a stray thought, she dispelled it. Ramose had been attempting to portal to her location for several minutes, and she had shut him down each time.

These people died because of her, because of her orders. She might as well have held the ax herself. No, what she did was even worse, cowardly. She ordered someone else to kill them, even if she did not realize that was what she was doing at the time.

Pop!

She felt a sudden snap in her head, as if a small pressure valve had been released. The pressure reduced as tears ran down her cheeks, falling to the parched ground, which drank them greedily.

She had killed these people, without even the decency to look at them while she did it.

Nephthys collapsed to the ground, sitting on her knees before a skull. She picked it up, staring into its empty sockets. Who was this? Who had she slain? She felt obligated to remember them, but she never knew them to begin with. How could she remember them? How could she atone?

“My lady,” Ramose said quietly, standing a few feet behind her. He had flown all the way from the guild after his third portal was rejected. “If Horemheb failed to carry out your orders satisfactorily, please allow me to correct him.”

“No. He carried them out as instructed,” Nephthys whispered. “That is the problem.”

Ramose mulled her response over in silence, and Nephthys continued to stare at the skull, imagining what the person might have looked like. Was this a mother? A father? A brother or sister? Did this person have family somewhere out there, waiting for their return?

“My lady, it pains me to see you waste tears on such fiends. We both saw the condition of the slaves, yes? We both know what—” Ramose started.

“Stop,” Nephthys commanded, her voice loud, echoing out across the Crater. An ember of anger burned in her gut, but she snuffed it out quickly with a long exhale. Lashing out at Ramose would not solve anything, would not bring the dead back. It would not even make her feel better.

Ha, ‘make me feel better,’ as if I am the victim, here.

“I do not need you to rationalize on my behalf, Ramose, though I thank you for the thought. I firmly believe that every death is a tragedy, regardless of circumstance. It is I who brought this tragedy, and it is I who must dwell in it. It is the very least they are owed,” Nephthys said, her voice back to a whisper.

Ramose stood straight, mouth open as if to respond, but he closed it. He stood behind her, a silent sentinel as she stared down at the remains. Eventually, she stood.

“If you wish to help, I would appreciate it if you brought me a shovel,” Nephthys said suddenly, still staring down at the skeletons before her.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“A…shovel, my lady? Whatever for?” he asked, perplexed.

She turned around to look him in the eyes.

“I am going to bury them,” she said, tears gone, voice firm.

He nodded, a portal opening and swallowing him whole.

It is the least they are owed.

————————————————————

Akhenaten rose from the burbling red liquid as if floating, his blindfolded face pensive.

“Mistress, welcome. It has been some time since we spoke. Congratulations on your recent victory,” he greeted.