Deus Necros

The contrast hit like a slap. Outside had been dead silence. Inside was life, loud, messy, warm. The smell of roast, bread, and ale rolled out first, thick and comforting, almost obscene after the stench of sulfur and fear. A festive atmosphere far different than the dreary one outside.

And then, houses, wooden houses, people. Ogres mainly. With a few lizardmen, a troll here and there, and even goblins and some orcs all inside this settlement.

It wasn’t just one tribe. It was a refuge, mixed races moving around as if they had agreed, somehow, not to kill each other here. Ludwig’s eyes tracked details automatically: weapons stacked rather than raised, laughter that didn’t repeat in the same cadence, lanterns burning steady, the relaxed posture of people who believed the walls held.

Once a couple of ogres noticed Ludwig and Dedal, they pointed their large mugs toward them, “Welcome to the safe lands! Congratulations on making it here!”

Ludwig frowned. That phrase sounded rehearsed, like a ritual greeting you gave to survivors who’d passed a test. Congratulations for making it here. Not “welcome home.” Not “who are you?” It implied that reaching this place was an achievement in itself.

This wasn’t something he expected. A place of joy and festivities?

“Seems like everyone is in a joyous mood… what’s the occasion?” Ludwig asked.

He kept his voice neutral, but his eyes didn’t stop moving. Safe places were often traps with better furniture.

“Follow me,” Dedal said, all serious.

Dedal didn’t relax the way the other ogres did. His jaw was still tight, grief still heavy, and the fresh shock of seeing his “brother” turn was still sitting behind his eyes. He moved through the settlement like a man walking through a celebration on the way to a funeral.

He walked ahead, and Ludwig followed after him. People congratulated Ludwig without him understanding why, and many creatures of other races were looking at him with pride.

The looks weren’t hostile. They were expectant. Like Ludwig had joined something the moment he crossed the ripple. Ludwig hated that feeling. It reminded him too much of quests and systems and invisible rules.

Some orcs even approached, “You, strong-looking orc, fight after?” one of them asked.

The orc’s breath smelled like ale and grease, his grin wide, his stance loose in the way only a fighter who trusted the place could afford.

“Sure, but let’s see what’s going on first,” Ludwig said.

The orc followed next to them with a drink in hand, speaking.

“Good, at least, you not coward, other Orc stronger looking, was coward. He said, no time waste needed. Orc fight is not time waste! It is honor!”

“Other Orc?”

“Yes, Orc came before you, with lizard people. Yes,” the orc said.

The description punched Ludwig in the gut with immediate understanding. Gale. Gale would absolutely refuse pointless brawls if there was a mission. And orcs here would absolutely call that cowardice.

“Was he a big orc?”

“Biggest I’ve seen. Big sword too, very strong looking, but weak heart. No honor, no courage.”

Ludwig shook his head, “He probably wanted to spare you the humiliation.”

The orc blinked at that, then laughed as if Ludwig had complimented him. Ludwig didn’t bother correcting the misunderstanding. He had bigger priorities: find Gale, find Akro, understand this “safe lands” nonsense, and figure out what role it played in the Tower’s cycle.

Soon they reached the middle of the settlement, where a large circular table with a bonfire in the middle rose.

The bonfire was real fire, warm orange, crackling, the kind that made shadows dance normally. Around it sat bodies Ludwig recognized immediately, relief tightening his chest for a second before he crushed it. Akro, two of the three young lizardmen, and Gale, who seemed adamant on not touching anything food or drink related, while the other lizardmen were stuffing their faces.

Akro looked battered, breathing steady but posture guarded. The two younger lizardmen ate like men who’d been starving for days, hands moving too fast for politeness. Gale sat rigid, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd like he expected the safe lands to stop being safe at any moment.

“Ludwig, you arrived…” Gale said.

“I just did, what is going on?” Ludwig asked.

“It is better to ask him,” Gale said as he pointed with a back-pointing thumb at an Ogre Ludwig saw before.

Damra, who was drinking from a bull’s horn.

Damra looked like a leader even while drinking, big enough to be unmistakable, relaxed enough to be dangerous. The bull’s horn in his hand made the scene feel tribal and ancient, and the way others glanced his direction before laughing told Ludwig exactly who set the tone here.

“Aie! THEY MADE IT! TONIGHT IS A NIGHT OF FEAST AND DRINKS!” Damra howled for everyone, and they began cheering.

The settlement responded instantly, mugs raised, feet stomping, laughter erupting in a wave that felt almost hungry. Ludwig hated how easy it was for a crowd to become a single organism.

“WAIT!” Dedal howled, stopping the cheers instantly.

The sudden silence was impressive. Dedal’s voice cut through the celebration like a blade. Heads turned. Even Damra lowered his horn slightly, eyes narrowing, attention sharpening into something more sober.

“We were festive for the newcomers who joined us,” Dedal said. “But there is one more thing I have to say.”

“Speak, Dedal, what is our brave warrior intending to say?”

He approached Damra and grabbed the horn from his hand and chugged it.

Dedal drank like he was swallowing courage and grief in the same motion, liquid spilling down his chin, chest rising with a harsh exhale when he finished. The act wasn’t disrespect. It was ritual, take the leader’s drink to speak with weight.

Once he was done, he wiped his mouth with his forearm and said, “Gdal joined the mother’s embrace.”

For a second, Ludwig thought that the mood was going to turn from festive to that of mourning. He watched shoulders tense, watched mugs pause halfway to mouths, watched the air shift as if everyone prepared for sorrow.

But the first to howl wasn’t an ogre, but an orc.

“BRAVE WARRIOR GDAL FOR YOU WE DRINK! YOU HAVE GONE FIRST! WE SHALL SOON FOLLOW! TO THE LAND OF ETERNAL REST! WE DRINK!”

The whole settlement all rose in one breath after the orc, “FOR THE BRAVE WARRIOR WE DRINK!”