Deus Necros

The palace had a rhythm, and he had just stepped into it at the wrong beat. Servants slowed mid-step with trays half lifted, and even the knights in the inner corridor looked briefly unsure what protocol applied when a man was supposed to be gone for days and returned in less than one hour.

Whispers started immediately, not loud, but fast, darting between mouths like a contagion. Ludwig didn’t feed it with a glance or a pause. Palaces lived on stories the same way slums lived on hunger, and he had no interest in being their evening’s entertainment.

Ludwig could hear the music beyond the inner hall’s closed gates. And when the massive-sized Knight who failed to move Ludwig’s mace earlier noticed him, he pushed open the doors to the main hall.

The doors swung outward with a weighty scrape, and the ballroom’s warmth spilled into the corridor. Light, perfume, roasted meat, expensive drink, and the steady hum of practiced laughter rushed out as if the hall had been holding its breath.

The music and chatter of the people inside seemed to die down a beat when every head turned to see the person coming in the hall.

Ludwig was back, far too soon.

It wasn’t silence, not fully. It was that collective pause nobles did when their curiosity won over their manners.

Conversations thinned into half sentences, fans stopped mid-flutter, and a few smiles froze in place as if the faces wearing them forgot how to move.

Ludwig walked straight through it, measured and calm, giving them nothing they could call panic and nothing they could call shame. He let his composure do the talking while he saved his actual words for the only person here who mattered.

Not even the emperor expected something like that to happen. He was standing talking with someone when Ludwig walked back in, the wine cup in his hand hadn’t even begun to warm yet.

The Emperor’s attention turned with the precision of a man who noticed everything. There was a brief, controlled pause in him, not surprise, but assessment, like he was adjusting the shape of the evening in his head.

Returning this quickly either meant the task was trivial or Ludwig had forced it to be brief. In front of witnesses, the Emperor would assume the second until proven otherwise.

“You returned rather fast…” The Emperor said.

“I’ve caught the perpetrator of the attack. And found out their liaison, one have been terminated. The other should be apprehended by now by your majesty’s forces.”

A word like terminated didn’t belong in a ballroom, which made it land harder than shouting ever could. Ludwig felt the room’s attention sharpen because nothing attracted nobles like violence delivered neatly.

“I find that difficult to believe…”

“Salem, spit her out,” Ludwig said.

From Ludwig’s shadow, two eyes emerged, gold, feline, and malicious-looking, but there was no killing intent behind them.

A mouth opened up, and the body of a naked woman shot out to land on the floor of the hall.

Gasps broke out in uneven bursts. Some recoiled on instinct, others leaned forward before remembering where they were and what they were supposed to be. The body hit marble with a wet impact that didn’t match the silk and music around it, hair spread out, skin too pale under chandelier light.

A couple of guards hurried to place a cape on the body of the woman, leaving nothing but her face visible for all to see.

They moved quickly and without discussion, because the court’s first reflex was always to restore presentation, even when faced with proof. Ludwig watched them work with the same detachment he used on most things. The Emperor’s reaction was what he cared about.

The Emperor looked at it and back at Ludwig, “Impressive…this feels more like a body than the one that committed suicide earlier.”

“It’s her original one; she uses clones to do her bidding. I found the original and took it out.”

He kept it short on purpose. The longer he spoke, the more openings he gave people to pry into methods they weren’t meant to understand.

“It’s rather too convenient for you to find her that fast.” The Second Prince said as he approached Ludwig.

The prince’s tone tried to sound reasonable, but Ludwig could hear the familiar envy under it, polished into suspicion because that was safer to display in front of the Emperor. Ludwig turned his head just enough to acknowledge him.

Barely acknowledged him in fact as he continued saying, “It’s competence.” The words were spat as if Ludwig meant that the second prince knew not the meaning of such a word.

A few nobles stiffened at the bluntness. Others pretended not to hear it while still storing it away. Ludwig didn’t care. The prince had asked in public, so he got an answer in public.

“Good, good, it left a sour taste in my mouth for you to leave earlier without even enjoying the ball,” he said.

“I have matters to tend to, your majesty.”

“I will not accept no, this time. Or are your matters more important than the throne?” the Emperor asked.

Ludwig had an honest answer ready, and it would have been a disaster to say it.

After all, Necros’s tasks were far more important than what the entirety of Lufondal could ever amount to.

He swallowed it where it belonged and chose the useful path instead, because pride wasn’t worth making enemies inside a palace.

“I shall oblige.”

“You make it sound like I’m forcing you,” he turned his head, “Celest, come and entertain our guest.”

The words were addressed to a woman who turned to meet Ludwig’s gaze.

Among the many women Ludwig had seen in his lifetime, this was the only woman who ever seemed to match Celine’s beauty. A tall stature, golden locks that looked too perfect to be accidental, a thin waist, and an ample chest held with effortless confidence, and emerald eyes that didn’t just shine, they measured.

She moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who had never needed to ask for space; people simply made it for her.

“Sir Ludwig, I’ve heard many tales of your bravery and heroism. I felt rather saddened to not have had the chance to speak to you in private.” The woman said as she approached Ludwig, more like floated than walked.

Ludwig grabbed her extended hand and gave it a light kiss.

He returned to lock gaze with her, “I apologize for not allotting time for you, your highness.” Ludwig said as he was now face-to-face with the empire’s crown jewel.

The fourth and last child of the imperial family. Celest Lufondal. The princess of the Lufondal Empire.