Servant

I remember the day my father took me to see the Dead.

In the holy crypt under the city, they watch with unseeing eyes. We walked past the pristine corpses, sitting on their thrones.

My father's head was unbowed. "When I am elected Speaker, all this will be gone. The money that flows into these pits would be better spent on aqueducts and roads." He was always a practical man.

I tugged on his sleeve. "But Pater Keel says the Dead know many secrets. They would be a powerful ally."

My father slapped my hand away. "Foolish boy."

There was a soft shuffling, and I turned around. It was one of the dark robed Servants of the Dead. He had finished anointing one of the corpses with oil, and had placed a basket of fresh fruit in front of it...for even though the Dead no longer eat, they still hunger.

The Servant shuffled up to my father and pointed a finger, and said two words that made the color drain from my father's face, so he looked like one of the Dead.

"You too."

It was that day that I decided to Serve the Dead.

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