Deus Necros

Baltimore barked a laugh so hard it made one of the horses whinny. “Hah! Still sharp as ever. But no, my friend. That’s called a debt—and one you incurred. I’m just here to collect what’s mine. Lawfully.”

He leaned further out the window. “Still, I’m no villain. Come, ride with me. The road to Mira is still a few hours on foot—and I imagine your legs could use a break.”

Timur glanced at the others. Gorak shrugged noncommittally. Robin looked unbothered. Melisande already seemed halfway convinced.

“We shouldn’t trouble a baron,” Gorak rumbled.

“Nonsense,” Baltimore waved him off. “I insist. Besides—” His eyes roamed the group. “Where’s Fredrick? Thompson? And the rest of the gang?”

The question landed with a thud.

Timur’s jaw clenched, and for a moment he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

The look in his eyes—the shadow behind the scowl—was answer enough.

Baltimore’s smile faltered. “Ah…” he said, softer. “I… see. I apologize.”

There was a pause. Then the Baron straightened, clapping his hands once with practiced pomp.

“Then more reason to ride! Come, come.”

“My lord!” one of the knights tried to intercept.

“They are my friends, I know them before you even joined my house, so don’t meddle in this,” Baltimore replied sharply.

The Knight simply nodded and backed off.

His gaze finally landed on Ludwig.

And held.

“Oh? A new face,” he said, his voice lifting with curiosity. “And who might you be, young sir?”

No one answered.

Not immediately.

Ludwig’s bearing didn’t invite introductions. His eyes were steady, his presence measured and closed. He gave off the impression of a man standing behind a locked door, the key dangling just out of reach.

Robin hopped up lightly onto the top of the carriage with a casual grace. “Pilgriming noble,” he said, stretching out across the roof like a lounging cat.

The Baron raised both brows. “Ahh, a pilgriming noble, is it? Then all the more reason for me to offer aid.”

His gaze returned to Ludwig. “What should I call you, sir?”

Ludwig met his eyes and answered plainly, “Davon.”

Baltimore’s smile returned. “What a fascinating and rare name. Sir Davon, please—my carriage is at your service.”

He tapped the roof, indicating the doors. “As for you, Timur—I insist. We’ve got things to talk about.”

Timur grunted, but the fatigue in his bones finally outweighed his stubborn pride.

“…Fine.”

The group climbed in.

The doors of the Baron’s carriage swung open with a gentle click, revealing what should have been a cramped, modest transport—if appearances were to be believed.

But as Ludwig stepped inside, his senses whispered something else.

The air shifted the moment he crossed the threshold. What should have been a single compartment opened into something vast. Elegant pillars of dark-stained oak framed the interior like a noble hall, with cushioned benches lining the walls and golden lanterns affixed overhead, shedding a warm, flickering glow that never quite cast a shadow.

A spatial distortion.

Ludwig recognized it immediately after all he’d seen it before at Rima.

The inside was several times the size of the carriage itself.

He didn’t comment on it, but his eyes swept across every inch—cataloguing the slight delay in the light’s reflection on the left wall, the mana thread woven under the carpet, the central rune-laced brace in the ceiling that regulated the fold. Not quite royal quality… but close.

Melisande flopped down onto one of the benches with a tired sigh, kicking off her boots and stretching her arms above her head.

“Finally,” she groaned, “somewhere I can feel my spine again.”

Timur followed last, his boots thudding with a heaviness that betrayed his mood. He took a seat opposite the Baron, arms crossed, brows drawn low.

Robin remained atop the carriage. Of course.

Gorak settled next to the door, not sitting, just resting one palm on the overhead brace. Always alert.

The Baron waited until everyone was in, then tapped the wall twice with his knuckle.

The door closed soundlessly behind them, sealing the enchanted chamber in a cocoon of plush silence.

“Right,” Baltimore said, leaning forward, one elbow resting against his thigh. “Tell me, Timur—last I heard, you lot were back in Portova. What brings you all the way back to Mira?”

Timur grunted. “That was six months ago, Baron. You’ve got good ears.”

“Well-paid ears,” the Baron corrected, smiling.

Timur rubbed his temples. “We took a contract.”

“Oh?”

“Vampire Hunters.”

Baltimore’s expression soured instantly. “Ugh. Those festering relic-hounds. Why in the hells would you work for them? All they do is chase shadows and get decent men killed over myths.”

Timur gave him a long look. Then answered, dryly, “To pay back your debt.”

Baltimore chuckled, not unkindly. “Fair enough. Still, I already told you—you come work under me, I’ll clear it. Just like that. It’s hard finding men who can swing a blade without pissing themselves when things get weird.”

Timur didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the floor for a beat. Then looked up, voice tired.

“Honestly? I’m considering it. After what we saw… what we went through… weird is the least of it…”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s enough adventuring for two lifetimes.”

Baltimore raised a brow, interest sharpening. “Now that’s saying something. Considering you’ve survived five years with the same crew and only now come back with… what, a third of your original party?”

The words dropped like stones.

Melisande looked down.

Gorak didn’t move.

Timur leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We saw things,” he said, voice quiet. “Things that… shouldn’t be.”

Baltimore nodded once, slowly. “I see.”

“I’ll be demanding compensation from those Hunters. With interest.”

Baltimore allowed the moment to sit in respectful silence.

“I suppose,” he said at last, “you can’t share too many details about what happened.”

“I didn’t sign any blood-seal,” Timur replied. “So no.”

And then—he told the tale.

Piece by piece.

The ambushes. The relentless pursuit. The descent into the Bastos manor… and what followed. The beasts that shouldn’t live under this sun, the frenzied moon, and the great monster that came from it …

He avoided mention of Ludwig directly. Never lied—but carefully weaved the truth into shapes that kept Ludwig on the periphery.

Still, Baltimore wasn’t easily fooled.

As Timur finished, the Baron shifted his weight, turning to Ludwig with an inquisitive glint in his eye.

“So,” he said, tone casual, “Sir Davon. From what I’ve gathered… you’re a rather capable young man.”

Ludwig didn’t reply.

Baltimore tilted his head. “I’m no high lord, but I am nobility. So let me ask—during your pilgrimage, are you open to a bit of… contracted work? I’d pay handsomely.”

Ludwig’s eyes flicked toward him. “I have matters to tend to in the Dawn Isles, so I’ll have to apologize,” he said.

Baltimore’s grin widened.

“Well, I’ll be damned. What fortune. The job is in the Dawn Isles.”

Ludwig’s brow twitched faintly.

“Go on,” he said.

Baltimore leaned forward slightly, hands steepled. “From Mira, there’s a small fishing hamlet on the coast—the only way to get to the isles. I’ve sent some of my people through there to the Isles to do recon. Something foul is stirring in the Isles. Magic. Dark, twisted stuff. But the Vampire Hunters—bless their paranoia—have sealed the area.”

He tapped his index finger on the table. “They’ll only allow passage with a noble endorsement.”

He met Ludwig’s gaze directly.

“I can give you that. In return… I need you to find my men.”

Timur straightened instantly. “Don’t push the lad. He’s been through enough.”

“I’m offering him a job. Not chaining him up.” Baltimore gestured with one palm. “And if he accepts—your debt? Wiped clean. No questions. No contracts.”

Timur hesitated.

He looked at Ludwig.

Ludwig didn’t answer at first.

Then—a faint chime.

A pale-blue screen blinked into existence in front of his vision, visible only to him.

[Dawn Isles Quest Update!]

There is a possibility that Baron Baltimore’s people have knowledge regarding the situation in the Isles.

Assist the Baron in reaching his contacts.

Ludwig lowered the window with a blink. Then looked up.

“I can take that job,” he said.

Timur blinked. “Davon! We agreed—no more throwing yourself into danger.”

“I’m not,” Ludwig said. “It’s an investigation. I’m not looking for danger. But I have to go there either way. And if it helps clear your debt, I don’t mind.”

Timur opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Melisande, smiling softly, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I think Davon’s right,” she said. “And besides… let this be the last one.”

She looked down at her lap, expression distant.

“I have Tanya’s kids to look after. I can’t be on the road forever.”

Timur’s jaw tensed. But in the end—he nodded.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll discuss the details in Mira.”