Deus Necros

Came midnight, and the manor had long since grown silent. Only the muffled rustling of trees and the distant hoot of an owl broke the stillness of the hour. A knock echoed across the guest corridor, three steady taps against wood that didn’t startle Ludwig in the slightest. He had been standing there long before the sound ever came.

He opened the door without ceremony.

Outside stood the butler, ever composed, his frame bathed in the pale silver of the moon filtering through the window. His posture was firm, eyes respectful but emotionless. “Master Davon, please,” he said with a slight bow.

Ludwig gave a small nod and followed. Their footsteps were soft against the carpeted floor of the manor’s halls. Not a soul stirred. The household, including his companions, remained comfortably asleep, unaware of the silent departure unfolding in the depths of the night.

Outside, the air carried a chill. Moisture from the distant sea gave a damp edge to every breath. The garden, so lively in the day, seemed subdued now. The scent of roses had faded, replaced by the earthy cool of freshly turned soil and dew-slicked grass.

A modest carriage awaited beyond the gate. There were no insignias, no embellishments—only plain wood and sturdy wheels. A vessel not meant to be remembered. Ludwig stepped inside without hesitation. The butler, surprisingly, climbed in after him and closed the door behind them.

Ludwig arched a brow. “I thought I’d be going alone on this trip.”

The butler glanced sideways but didn’t face him fully. “And you shall, Master Davon,” he said in a low voice. “I am only here so that the guards won’t be a problem to you in your clandestine adventure.”

There was no smugness in his tone, just quiet assurance. A man doing his duty.

Ludwig settled near the narrow window and leaned his arm on the wood frame. Outside, a sliver of a crescent moon clung to the sky, barely visible behind a mass of drifting clouds. Its pale light struggled to escape, swallowed more often than not by the sluggish gray masses above.

The carriage rumbled to life and began its quiet journey.

Down by the port of Rima, the night air turned sharper. Salt and brine clung to every surface. The village, half-asleep in slumber, bore the look of a place that had forgotten what time meant. Faint glows of lanterns flickered against the wind, casting long shadows of rickety wooden houses and swaying nets left hanging on posts.

At the dock, activity contradicted the quiet. Cloaked figures moved with purpose around a mid-sized merchant vessel. Orders were barked, crates were hauled up wooden planks, and sailors cursed as they tried to balance fragile goods with heavy steps.

“Faster,” barked one of the cloaked men, his voice thick with disdain. He spat to the side as a hunched fisherman passed by with a crate that nearly crushed him under its weight. The man’s face was lined with exhaustion, but he didn’t respond.

Another figure, similarly cloaked, flicked open a pocket watch with a metallic click. “Ten minutes. If they’re not here by then, we depart. With or without them.”

“Good,” said the first, crossing his arms. “I’m tired of being at the whims of nobles. They know nothing of our glorious purpose. They think coin solves everything.”

“They know how to survive,” murmured the second. “And how to make others depend on them. Ants though they are, ants build empires.”

“Bah. Their empires are built on the backs of our dead,” growled the first. “Our ancestors fought and bled to free this world from the rot of Vampires and monsters, and they were forgotten. Their bones feed the dirt while the nobles wine and dine over our legacy.”

The third figure, taller than the others, stepped closer. His voice was laced with fire. “It is because of that legacy that we must endure. The final seal is close. Once the last barrier falls, we shall reclaim our true inheritance. The ancient art of the Hunt. The old rites. The power of the first slayers.”

He raised a fist, subtle but firm.

“When that day comes,” he continued, “no nation, no king, no Order shall bind us. The world shall remember the name of Vampire Hunters. And they will tremble.”

Before any could respond, a dull clatter of hooves echoed across the dock. The carriage pulled up to the edge of the pier, its arrival drawing immediate attention.

The cloaked men straightened. One squinted at the new arrival. “Seems the Baron kept his word. Finally.”

The door opened, and Ludwig stepped out. Immediately, a stillness overtook the dock.

He looked out of place—royal, severe, and unbothered by the harsh smell of fish and sweat and salt. His robes, though practical, were too finely tailored for the grime of this world. The way he walked, calm and deliberate, as if this filth beneath his boots was of no concern… it unsettled them.

“Lad,” one of them called, hand casually resting on the hilt of a long falchion. “Who are you?”

Ludwig met his gaze without pause. His hand reached inside his coat, slow and measured, and produced a folded letter bearing the Baron’s seal. He handed it to the nearest of the cloaked men with a slight tilt of his chin.

“I was sent in his stead,” he said.

One of them muttered, “Thought the Baron’s Knight Captain would come.”

“The Baron gave me the letter so I could go instead,” Ludwig replied flatly.

The cloaked trio exchanged glances, uncertain. The man with the falchion broke the seal and used a soft flicker of magic to illuminate the parchment. He read it in silence. When he finished, he grunted and gestured toward the ship.

“Get on.”

Ludwig obeyed without question. He stepped past them without a single word of gratitude. The wood beneath his boots creaked faintly as he climbed aboard.

The ship was still being loaded, but there was no designated place for him. No welcome, no instruction. He moved to the side, leaned his weight against the ship’s railing, and stared into the black water below.

The sea rippled gently beneath a sky choked by clouds. A faint starlight shimmered behind the veil, but the wind dragged more clouds in its wake. The world felt dim and blurred. But to Ludwig’s eyes, everything was clear. The darkness had long since become an old companion.

The three cloaked men eventually boarded. One barked an order at the crew. “We move now. The sea waits for no one.”