The crushed crown underneath Necors's foot pulsed faintly, as if complaining, which won't serve it much.
Ludwig's memory of Pride in the Tower was that of a person standing naked in the palace, with only the crown of thorns. No armor. No robe. No shield. No weapon of his own unless he created it from authority. He had thought it arrogance. It was arrogance. But now it had shape behind it.
"He died in that prison," Necros said. "But death did not lower him. His pride endured without crown, without kingdom, without name, without witness. In death, he rose with more than his brother could ever steal. The Tower accepted him, for all life had become too lowly for him to rule. He no longer desired to lord over men. Men had become beneath the concept of his gaze."
Ludwig exhaled slowly.
"That's… unpleasantly impressive."
"It is why you struggled."
"Yeah, no shit."
Necros turned slightly toward him. The motion made the darkness lean closer.
