Deus Necros

“Then please enlighten us, Master Ludwig, on how one should eat,” one of the noblewomen said with a carefully measured tone, her words laced with polite curiosity but thinly veiling a challenge.

Ludwig didn’t miss the subtle condescension but maintained a calm smile. “Of course,” he replied. “However, I’ll need a few items to demonstrate. Please bring me a large carving knife, a serving plate larger than that one,” he gestured to a fruit platter nearby, “and a basin of water.”

Hoyo and Kassandra exchanged glances, both visibly puzzled by Ludwig’s request. Yet, they stayed silent, trusting him to handle the situation. They know Ludwig is pretty capable, and though he never told them of his origin or family, he showed nothing that would indicate that he comes from a poor background. So perhaps he might be able to navigate through this ordeal.

“We believe that noble customs often evolve, and some of the current ones are… outdated” Ludwig began as the servants scurried to fetch the requested items. “In our traditions, emphasis is placed on cleanliness, efficiency, and presentation. The way a meal is served reflects the host’s refinement and care for their guests.”

“And how do your traditions differ from ours?” the Urbaf patriarch asked, his tone curious yet faintly skeptical.

“The difference lies in attention to detail,” Ludwig replied, arranging the utensils before him. “For example, utensils are laid out in the order they are to be used, starting from the outermost and progressing inward with each course. Meals are served in stages, ensuring that the table remains organized and the food fresh.”

“An interesting notion,” the eldest son remarked, his voice tinged with scorn. “But is such meticulousness really necessary?” he tried to jab at Ludwig for being overly complex.

“Only if one values dignity and decorum at the dining table,” Ludwig replied smoothly, his tone polite but firm. “It prevents unnecessary mess and ensures a more enjoyable experience for all.”

The servants returned with the requested items. Ludwig rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands in the basin, and dried them with a clean cloth. “Cleanliness is paramount,” he explained. “One should always clean their hands before handling food, as unseen dirt can lead to illness.”

Ludwig then picked up the carving knife and stood, moving to the roasted pig at the center of the table. He inspected it briefly before expertly carving a piece, ensuring each cut was precise and presentable. The room fell silent as everyone watched his deft movements.

After plating the meat, Ludwig returned to his seat and added a selection of vegetables and bread to his plate. Picking up a fork and knife, he began cutting the meat into small, manageable bites. His movements were deliberate and graceful, exuding a sense of effortless refinement.

The Urbaf patriarch observed intently, his gaze flicking between Ludwig’s plate and his own grease-smeared hands. “I must admit,”

“I see, there is truth to what the boy says, using a knife and fork seems far better than using one’s hands or even bread… seems like we’ll be adopting your folk’s method, it does appear more… dignified. “he said.

The eldest son’s smirk faltered as he noticed his father’s shift in demeanor. “It’s certainly different,” he said weakly, attempting to save face.

“It’s more than different,” the patriarch corrected. “It’s practical and far more presentable. Bring me a fork, a knife, and a basin of water,” he ordered the servants. “I’d like to try this method myself.”

Which directly translate to, ‘everyone should do the same’

The command set off a ripple effect across the table. Each of the Urbafs followed suit, requesting utensils and water. Even the skeptical noblewoman who had issued the initial challenge now appeared curious.

Hoyo gave Ludwig a slight nod of approval, though his expression remained serious.

To Ludwig however, this was far from the more stern and complicated way of eating that was ingrained in him since young.

Ludwig returned to his meal, suppressing a smirk. The dynamic at the table had shifted—what began as a subtle attempt to mock him had turned into a lesson in refinement, with Ludwig firmly in control of the narrative.

This should be enough to drop the haughtiness of the nobles a bit. After all, for them appearance is everything, and the one they brought to their table though looked like a couple of ignorant students showed them a new way of life. They couldn’t help but respect them whether they liked it or not.

As the table settled into an uneasy civility, the patriarch leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. “Now that we’ve attended to the meal, I’d like to discuss what happened with Alva yesterday.”

Ludwig carefully placed his utensils to the side, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Certainly,” he said. “Though it is generally impolite to discuss grave matters during a meal, a father’s concern for his daughter takes precedence.”

This is what Ludwig calls a compliment sandwich, it is something his father taught him. You insult someone or point out their error but at the same time you point out something good. They can’t take it as an insult but can’t take it as a compliment either and will feel unable to react to it properly.

The eldest son scoffed, he felt that his father was wronged, but the father having lived longer and experienced more snapped him a sharp glare that silenced him.

“Please continue,” the patriarch said. “You will not be interrupted again.”

Ludwig nodded. “Alva displayed remarkable courage and strength yesterday. She fought alongside me against the Djinn and played a crucial role in ensuring the safety of many lives.”

The eldest son couldn’t contain his disbelief. “Strength? Alva? Surely you jest—”

“Enough,” the patriarch snapped, cutting him off. “Master Ludwig has earned the right to speak without interruption. Do it once again and you shall be moved from the table!”

The eldest couldn’t help but lower his head in shame.

Ludwig’s tone remained steady, but his words carried weight. “It’s easy to dismiss the actions of others when you weren’t there to witness them. But I assure you, Alva’s bravery was real. She took down three Djinn herself and proved invaluable in combating the threat.”

The patriarch’s expression softened, though his sons exchanged uneasy glances. “You speak highly of her,” he said.

“Because it’s the truth,” Ludwig replied. “As for what happened yesterday was unfortunate. As a member of the Black Tower academy I realized that there was a profane ritual going on, so I had to act, especially after one of my friends was affected, Alva saw the need to assist everyone and came with me.”

“I see,” the patriarch said thoughtfully. “Still, it is surprising to see someone so young as yourself involved in such matters. Aren’t those the robes of a freshman? One would think such tasks would be beyond your station.”

Ludwig didn’t miss the subtle insinuation. He met the patriarch’s gaze evenly. “Ordinarily, you’d be correct,” Ludwig said, “But I’m not someone else. I’m Ludwig Heart, the Only Disciple of Bastos Van Dijk, the Tower Master of the Black Tower… killing a few terrorist Djinns and saving a city is the least I can do. And I’m not being gallant or proud, if I didn’t have the ability, I wouldn’t be worthy of being his disciple after all…”

At times, one needed to be arrogant especially when with nobles.

The table fell into stunned silence. The name Bastos Van Dijk carried immense weight— Bastos Van Dijk, the Fiend, and the immortal mage, an Eight Tier mage that everyone in the land of Lufondal know of, the most mysterious yet most prominent of mages on this land, a man that could be called a national deterrent adopted Ludwig as his disciple? Then the value of Ludwig immediately soared up.

The patriarch recovered first, his tone shifting to one of reverence. “Well, that changes everything. Ludwig Heart… I heard rumors about Van Dijk being present and speaking to you, but now that the rumors are confirmed, I have to say what I needed. So, Ludwig, what do you think of my daughter? I’m willing to wed her to you if you wish.”

The proposal landed like a thunderclap. Hoyo spat his drink across the table, while Kassandra choked on her water, her coughs echoing in the stunned silence.

Ludwig raised a brow, his calm demeanor unshaken. “I believe,” he said slowly, “it would be wise to finish discussing yesterday’s events before entertaining such… ambitious propositions.”