The Prince

Soloman was reading Machiavelli's 'The Prince' in his chamber within the Temple. It was a dull day in here, no services, no gossip, nothing of interest. God, he needed to get back out investigating. He liked being a freelance detective. His role as a Head Cleric in the Temple had to be one of the most boring occupations there were. He could empathise with Catholic priests for getting bored with their religious duties...almost.

A giggling interrupted his reading and he looked up in time to see Miridien Nox and Luna Morose collapse against the frame of his open door, mouths clamped together. Soloman waited for a moment, watching as they practically ate each other, then finally cleared his throat loudly. Miridien broke away first and looked at Soloman, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey Soloman," he greeted, stepped back off Luna as she brushed her black robes down. "Sorry, did we interrupt you?"

"Oh no, not at all Cleric Nox," Soloman said, marking his book and shutting it for the moment. "No, renaissance literature gets dull after a while. Watching you and the lovely Miss Morose grind each other against my doorframe is just what I needed."

Luna giggled and pulled Miridien to her. "I think your friend's jealous, sweetie." she muttered seductively into his ear. She turned to Soloman and smiled. "If let us in you could join us, if you like Soloman."

Soloman raised an eyebrow. They both had jet black hair, pale skin, and black eyes. They could have been brother and sister, they looked so alike.

"Thank you for the offer, Luna, but I prefer twosomes." He shrugged. "It keeps things simple."

Miridien seemed to look at him thoughfully for a moment, then prised himself away from Luna and moved over to Soloman. He sat on the edge of Soloman's bed, as Soloman sat in his armchair. Soloman was slightly worried.

"Soloman," Miridien sighed sadly. "When was the last time you got laid?"

Soloman sat, stunned. He had to struggle to keep himself from blushing, but even at that he felt he failed. "What?"

"Sol, people have been talking," Miridien said slowly, glancing at Luna.

"What people?" Soloman asked, and right on cue, Craven stepped into the doorway beside Luna, a grin on his blandly good-looking face.

"Every other Necromancer in here, Soloman." he said in that annoyingly pompous voice of his. "The word is that you're either gay or frigid."

Soloman's silvery blue eyes glared at him, outraged. "I am certainly NOT gay, Craven. Sorry to disappoint." Craven turned pink and glared back.

"And if you're all so interested," Soloman continued, lending his glare to all of them. "I got 'laid', as you say, last week."

"Was it a hooker?" Luna asked. Soloman stared her out for a momnet, then looked away. "Yes."

"Thought so," she said happily. Craven shook his head in mock sadness.

"Soloman, Soloman, prostitutes are all very well for one night flings and for keeping loneliness at bay. But when are you ever going to find yourself a nice Necromancer girl?"

"When are you going to find yourself a nice Necromancer boy, Craven," Soloman replied with a cold smirk, receiving another glare off him. Miridien cleared his throat.

"We just think you'd be happier if you found someone, Soloman," he said, sounding genuine, though annoyingly so. "Practically everyone else has paired up."

"I prefer my own company," Soloman muttered. Luna giggled again.

"I always though you were the type to cry your own name at night," she laughed and Craven joined her. Even Miridien sniggered slightly. Soloman fumed.

"Alright, out," he snapped. "All of you. I do not need relationship advice or snide remarks. Get out. Craven smirked and glided out of the door way, while Miridien gave Soloman and apologetic smile and left with Luna clinging from his arm.

Soloman was left alone with his thoughts. There used to be a time when the other Necromancers respected him, when they wouldn't dare look sideways at him, just because he was...well, becuase he was Soloman Wreath. Nowadays, he did notice the others whispering as he passed down the corridors, and becoming silent when he entered their company. Things were different, and he thought originally that it was because they were in awe. He was, after all, the trainer of their possible Deathbringer. But could it really be because he was lacking a girlfriend? Could it really be because of something that stupid?

He thought of the mentality of some of his fellow Necromancers, and thought that this was more than likely so.