Vanitas understood well enough that those who were at the pinnacle of power often harbored with them a certain… eccentricity.
It was the nature of those who bore immense strength. Some sort of odd detachment that separated them from ordinary men.
But even so, Friedrich's reaction unsettled him. To lose his only son and not shed a single tear, to stand there without so much as a tremor in his voice, Vanitas couldn't help but find it cold.
Though he had seen the brief hesitation on the duke's face upon witnessing Sigmund's headless body, that was all.
Just hesitation.
Beyond that moment, Friedrich had moved on. He faced forward as though the death of his heir was no different from the death of any other man under his command.
Nevertheless, it wasn't Vanitas's business to pry.
"I still have much to learn."
Because unlike Friedrich, he was still soft inside. No matter how much was taken from him, the wounds of losing those he loved never hardened into calluses.
