A Butler!

In the murky depths of his lair, the malevolent dragon Lance glowered through crimson, vertical pupils that shimmered with disdain. He scoffed at the absurdity before him, how could he, an imposing figure likened to a deity of the netherworld, be burdened with such a fledgling spirit of the afterlife?

"Which God of Death harbors a wish for their acolyte's swift demise?" Lance muttered, his voice thick with contempt. "If he can't live, then let him hasten his end. Yet, to imbue his departure with significance, no ge have proposed a journey to him, a venture to the heavens itself."

"I speak only truths," Solomon continued, his tone shifting to a rare sincerity as he addressed his trainee. "I've secured a heavenly exchange, a privilege not easily granted. For you, I specifically requested inclusion. The celestial council, acknowledging my tales of an exemplary partner in the mortal realm, has consented, contingent on your advancement and elevation in rank."

"Join me on this divine expedition as the next sovereign of souls. Upon our return, I shall ascend to a quasi-secondary deity of the dead, while you will rise as a primary deity, inheriting the realm I oversee."

"However," Lance added, a cunning gleam in his eye, "you cannot simply assume control over the souls I've mentored. You'll need to seek out potent humans yourself, to cultivate your own lineage of death's disciples."

"Moreover," he revealed, "Hell's stringent decrees have loosened. No longer must one master necromancy to apprentice with death. Should you possess the requisite prowess, you may forge pacts with the clergy or even other exceptional mortals, expanding your dominion of apprentices."

"Lance," Solomon's voice deepened, emphasizing the gravity of the opportunity, "the resources at the disposal of a newly-minted sovereign of souls are vast. I assure you, upon your ascension, your resources will rival those of the finest incumbents in Hell's extensive territories."

The vast dominion of Hell continually birthed formidable deities of death, each vying for supremacy through accruing power and influence. Lance, already a notable figure among them, was poised to ascend even higher in this relentless hierarchy.

With Hell's recent policy relaxation, the ranks of potential apprentices were set to swell, potentially including clergy coerced into allegiance by a persuasive death deity.

"If Lance were to rise as a primary deity of death," Solomon pondered aloud, "his innate charisma might very well make such scenarios commonplace."

Feeling a genuine connection with Death God Solomon, Lance contemplated whether these new, lax policies were a harbinger of a deeper trust, or merely a strategic reveal to hasten his progression and promotion. Could Solomon, in his impatience, one day emerge from the depths to claim him with a reaper's scythe? In this ever-evolving game of power and deceit within Hell, such possibilities were all too real.

"Next time you ascend to the heavens, take me along for the journey," Lance half-joked, his voice tinged with yearning.

"You've barely scratched the surface of living," Solomon retorted dryly.

"Is this why you've reached out? To nudge me towards my own demise just so we can tour the celestial realms together?" Lance asked, skepticism coloring his tone.

"Indeed," Solomon admitted, his voice softening with persuasion. "There are angels in heaven, and I promised to show them to you, to broaden your horizons. Yet, you cling to the mortal coil. You're a lifelong bachelor, no ties of family to bind you. What earthly attachments could possibly weigh so heavily on your heart?"

Silence hung between them before Lance softly uttered, "Solomon."

"What troubles you?" Solomon's voice was tinged with concern.

"You've come to claim my life; perhaps it's time I embraced my destiny and became the God of Death," Lance stated, a mix of resolve and mischief in his eyes.

"Really?" Solomon's response was tinged with delight.

"Yes, but let's be honest," Lance chuckled, "you probably think I just want to spar with you."

Solomon knew Lance well, understanding that beneath the surface, there might be a desire to challenge him. "Despite your growth, you view me without reverence, as if I'm still just your mentor and not a deity of death."

Their relationship had evolved significantly since Solomon first recruited Lance as a trainee. Initially, Lance had shown nothing but respect and diligence. However, over the decades, his attitude had soured; he grew complacent and even defiant, frustrating Solomon who had expected more progress and perhaps a transition to higher responsibilities.

Solomon sensed the tension in their conversation and was ready to end the call. "If there's nothing else, I'll close this projection."

"Wait, don't disconnect just yet. There's another matter," Lance quickly interjected.

"What now?" Solomon's tone was a mixture of curiosity and impatience.

"Do you recall the lich we pursued recently?"

"Yes, I remember," Solomon replied, his interest piqued.

"I've detained the soul of that lich in the [Prison of the God of Death]," Lance continued. "This lich, while on earth, slew a steward from the city lord's mansion, trapping the steward's soul within his own, then masqueraded as him. After your intervention, both souls were brought to Hell."

Lance's voice grew more enthusiastic. "I discovered that the steward's soul not only qualifies for heaven but also possesses remarkable administrative skills. With proper guidance, he could become an invaluable assistant to the god of death. I propose we train him here in Hell. By the time you descend, having him as your assistant could significantly ease your burdens."

Solomon paused, considering Lance's proposal. It was an unconventional idea, yet it held promise; an opportunity to harness a capable soul for the underworld's intricate machinations.

"However," Lance continued, his voice softening, "this butler's soul harbors a profound longing, a final wish unfulfilled. Before he departed the mortal coil, he couldn't bid farewell to those he cherished. He has requested my assistance in fulfilling this last desire, promising in return to forgo his passage to heaven."

"He wishes to remain in Hell, serving as an assistant to the god of death. Would you be interested in meeting him?"

The rarity of heaven-bound souls in Hell piqued Solomon's interest, as such souls were a testament to the god of death's influence and benevolence. "A soul destined for heaven?" Solomon queried, his curiosity evident.

"Yes," Lance confirmed. "I'd like you to meet him."

Lance wondered what characteristics a heaven-qualified soul might exhibit, given that such souls were typically escorted directly to paradise upon death.

As if summoned by their discussion, a soul appeared beside Solomon, emanating a gentle, white luminescence indicative of its heavenly eligibility. Dressed in a spectral suit, the uniform of the celestial realms, the soul bowed respectfully.

"Brandon," Solomon introduced, "this is Lance, my counterpart in the human realm. Share with him your last wish. Whether he chooses to assist you is his prerogative."

"Thank you, Lord Death," Brandon intoned, bowing deeply before turning to Lance. "And thank you, Lord Lance. Without your intervention, I would still be ensnared within the lich's malevolent grasp."

"Tell me about this wish of yours," Lance prompted, intrigued by the soul's noble aura.

"Lord Lance, my final request is that you visit the City Lord's Mansion in Lionheart City to inform Miss Joanna of the true circumstances surrounding my demise," Brandon began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I was akin to family for Miss Joanna, having cared for her in her father's frequent absences. My sudden death must be an unimaginable blow to her, one that could seed bitterness in her heart."

"My hope is that you might prevent such darkness from taking root. Perhaps, you could even assume the role of a temporary steward at the mansion, posing as a distant relative to lend her support during this turbulent time."

"As for compensation," Brandon continued earnestly, "Lord Solomon has promised me a stipend upon my appointment as an assistant to the god of death. I am prepared to dedicate my earnings for the next decade to express my gratitude should you fulfill this task."

Lance, moved by the soul's selflessness and sincerity, inquired, "And what deeds granted you passage to heaven?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Brandon admitted, "but throughout my life, I adopted many orphans and devoted much of my earnings to their welfare. Perhaps it was these acts of kindness that merited such grace."

Lance nodded, impressed. "Your actions truly define you as a beacon of virtue. Consider your last wish granted, I accept your offer."