Deus Necros

With a wave of his hands, the two of them found themselves back at the top floor of the Black Tower.

Ludwig however was far too preoccupied with the letter in his hands, and after contemplating a bit he asked “I guess this isn’t negotiable?”

The words slid out of his mouth with that habitual dryness he carried into any order he disliked. He stood, close enough to the wide window that gray afternoon light drew long shadows across the floorboards and shelves. One hand toyed with the grip of the lich’s staff, tapping it against his palm as though testing the weight of an answer he already knew. His voice did not rise, but the tension in it showed.

“Unfortunately, no.”

Van Dijk’s sigh was deliberate, a steady current drawn from somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t look at Ludwig immediately. His gaze lingered instead on the spines of the tomes crowding the wall, as if the cracked leather and faint glyphs written on their sides could supply a different answer than the one he gave. Only when the silence threatened to thicken did he turn, crimson eyes fixing sharply on his student.

“The emperor himself is taking an interest in this. That means the decision has already been carved in stone. There is no path out of it, not for you. You’ll have to go.” He clasped his hands behind his back, the leather of his coat giving a faint creak. “But be careful. The people in the Kingdom of the Sands will not be your only enemies.”

Ludwig’s lips drew into a flat line. His eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest twitch pulling at the grimace along his jaw. “I already know that,” he said. His voice lowered, almost a growl. “The so-called hero is also supposed to be there.”

The word hero

left his mouth like a stone spat into still water. No reverence, no respect, only the brittle edge of distaste. For that manchild he deserved none from Ludwig, not even recognition of existence.“Yes,” Van Dijk replied, pacing a few steps across the rug, his fingers twitching in the folds of his sleeves. “Still, from the reports, you’ll be placed in different battalions, under different leadership. That should keep him out of your shadow, at least for a while.”

“For the time being,” Ludwig muttered. His staff thumped once against the floor as if to punctuate the thought. “What about the mission details?”

“It’s a deployment.” Van Dijk’s tone turned clinical, stripped of any color. “Six months. Then you return.” He glanced at Ludwig again, a faint wryness creeping into his expression. “Earn some achievements… but not too many.”

Ludwig’s mouth pulled into a smile that wasn’t a smile, more the tightening of lips over unspoken thought. “I see. Get attention, but not too much. Enough to be noticed, not enough to be chained.” He leaned back against the edge of the desk, exhaling softly through his nose. “It’ll become a hassle otherwise.”

“Yes, that’s one way to see it,” Van Dijk agreed, though his eyes glimmered with a harder light. He let the silence stand, his gaze pinning Ludwig until at last he tilted his head, a sharper edge curling his mouth. “Unless…”

The word lingered like the shadow of a blade yet unsheathed.

“Unless?” Ludwig echoed. His brow arched, his voice carrying both interest and suspicion.

Van Dijk’s smile widened by a fraction, pale lips bending into a crooked shape. “Unless you turn the whole damn thing over its head. Make noise. Make waves. Enough that even those who think of pulling you into their schemes will hesitate. Twice. Ten times. Until they weigh the cost and find it far too heavy.”

Ludwig chuckled low in his throat, the kind of laugh that carried no warmth but plenty of satisfaction. “Ah, now you’re speaking my language.” He lifted the staff slightly, let it settle again with a soft knock. “Although…” he paused, eyes narrowing, “there’s something else I should mention.”

“What is it?” Van Dijk’s voice did not shift, but his body stilled. He leaned forward just slightly, as though scenting prey.

“There’s an issue with the frontline. I don’t know if the emperor knows it yet.”

That caught him. The silence that followed seemed to soak into the wood of the chamber, into the long lines of shelves and the cluttered desk. Even the floating dust motes slowed, caught in a current of attention.

“What is it?” Van Dijk’s words cut the quiet. “You’re making it sound very interesting. Something even the emperor doesn’t know?”

“They have two Usurpers over there…”

The air grew heavier at once, as if the name itself pressed weight against the lungs. Van Dijk’s brows knit together; he did not speak. He let the silence stretch, demanding more.

“The Lustful Death,” Ludwig said finally, his tone grave, “is controlling the King of Sands. And the Envious Death… I don’t know what she is doing there, but she’s there.”

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, red irises burning sharper. “How would you know that? That is not information passed in taverns, or something shared by common people. So tell me…”

“I had the opportunity to talk with the Witch of the Mare.” Ludwig’s gaze fell for an instant before snapping back to his master. “She was the sister of the Envious Death before she became what she is today.”

That stirred even Van Dijk’s composure. His eyes flickered, and a line formed at his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, weighed. “That information carries a great deal of weight. A human transforming into one of Necros’s Usurpers…”

“Well, technically they aren’t human anymore. But yes.”

Van Dijk’s silence stretched again. His face gave away little, but his crimson eyes had gone distant with calculation. When he finally spoke, his tone was lower, iron underneath. “Then you will need to be cautious. The Wrathful Death, as you well know, is not the strongest.”

Ludwig’s mouth curved bitterly. “In raw power, none of the others come close to him. But his mind was gone, burnt out by rage. He couldn’t wield it properly.” His eyes fell briefly to the floor, then back up with deliberate calm. “I’m not foolish enough to tempt fate twice. And besides…” he tapped his chest with two fingers, where beneath flesh a heart pounded too loud. “The Heart of Wrath is already killing me. Odd complaint, coming from an Undead.”

For a heartbeat, something flickered in Van Dijk’s eyes. Pity? Admiration? It passed too quickly to name. “As long as you know,” he said at last. His tone smoothed back into command. “I’ll let Joana know of your departure. She will prepare what you need. Good luck out there, Ludwig.” His back turned, cloak brushing against the floor. “And don’t die.”

Ludwig’s response was a brief nod, the faintest curl of lip that might have been a smile or simply a grimace. He shifted the staff to one hand and turned for the door. Salem slipped down from the sill in a coil of dark fur and padded after him, tail curling high. The cat’s golden eyes caught the lamplight once before vanishing into the stairwell shadow.