Deus Necros

“The White Raven,” came a soft, unmistakable voice. Thomas. The shade of the boy flickered next to Ludwig without warning, his spectral cloak curling against the breeze. “It’s time we finalize your quest. I still have the ring.”

Ludwig didn’t speak aloud. “You remember the passphrase?”

“Yes,” Thomas replied with a nod only Ludwig could see. “We’ll handle that when we get there. Hopefully no complications.”

Ludwig returned to the present and looked at Robin. “Looks like I have business in Peltora, what about you guys?”

“We’re heading to the capital,” Robin said. “We’ve got unfinished work for Lord Baltimore. And we’ll be settling there for the time being.”

Ludwig stepped down from the carriage and turned as Redd hopped down beside him without invitation. “What?” Ludwig said.

“I’m coming,” Redd said, brushing dust off his sleeves. “Got business in Peltora.”

“You have an awful lot of business for a bandit,” Ludwig murmured under his breath.

“It’s one of the few places I can disappear.”

“Fine.” Ludwig turned toward the gate guard. “We’ll separate here then.”

He looked back at the group. “If fate permits, we’ll meet again in Tulmud.”

“Godspeed, Sir Davon,” Timur said, saluting with his two fingers.

Gorak nodded once, the motion solid and final.

“Don’t go dying in a ditch somewhere, Davon,” Melisande added, softer.

“Let’s meet again soon,” she finished, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Celine stepped down last and without a word fell into step beside Ludwig. She didn’t speak, but her presence was sure.

“Please follow me,” the guard said, gesturing to the glowing gate. “We’ll send you three to Peltora first.”

The runes surged with light as they approached. There was a sound like wind rushing through a hollow place, and the air grew dense with mana.

Then, with a single step forward, Ludwig, Redd, and Celine passed through the circle of light and vanished.

Mana surged past them in a wave of burning cold, like stepping through the spine of a storm that refused to decide if it was made of ice or fire. Ludwig felt his boots leave solid ground for a moment, then land again on polished stone.

The city behind them fell away, and a new one bloomed ahead.

Peltora unfolded around them not like a city, but a tide. The first breath Ludwig took was thick with iron and incense, sweat and sizzling oil, the scent of old wood soaked with history and grime. The sounds came next, a clash of hammers, the shrill whistle of some steam contraption down a far street, the unending murmur of crowds moving in layered chaos.

The buildings climbed over one another like rival siblings. Some were two stories of clean stone and silver glass, guild banners flapping above their windows. Others leaned like drunks, made of patched timber and slanted brick, their rooftops tangled in ropes, drying linens, and the occasional black-feathered raven.

To the left, towering over the rest of the city like a fist raised to the sky, stood the headquarters of the Adventurer’s Guild, its walls clad in burnished black steel, the crest of the empire along with two swords crossed over itwelded together over its gates. It was the heart of the city, but not its soul.

The soul lived in the side alleys.

And it was there Ludwig heard it.

A cry. Sharp. Childish.

He turned his head. A side street, no more than four paces wide between the shadows of two mismatched buildings, revealed a cluster of figures. Four men, their clothes ragged but their movements quick, circled a girl barely past her ninth winter. She knelt on the stone, clutching something to her chest, a small pouch perhaps. One of the men yanked at her arm while another kicked at her shin, hard enough that her cry twisted into a sob.

Ludwig moved. Instinct more than choice. His hand fell to Durandal, his boots pivoted. Celine turned her head to watch him, her expression unreadable.

But Redd stepped in front of him.

A single arm out. Calm. Intentional.

“Don’t,” the bandit said.

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. “They’re mugging her.”

“No,” Redd replied, and his voice lost all of its usual bite. It was dry. Tired. “They’re not. She’s with them.”

“What?” Ludwig asked, his hand still hovering near his sword.

“It’s a scam,” Redd said, jerking his chin toward the scene. “Old as rot. The girl’s the bait. They act like they’re roughing her up to bait a do-gooder into stepping in. While you’re focused on them, she slips behind and picks your pockets clean. Sometimes it’s your coin. Sometimes your bag. Once, I saw a guy lose his ring, and his boots.”

Ludwig looked back.

Sure enough, he saw it now. The girl had shifted in her posture, not crouched in fear, but balanced lightly on the balls of her feet. Her fingers weren’t gripping the pouch desperately, but moving along the seams with practiced tension, waiting for the distraction. The men shouted curses, but none of them landed real blows. They weren’t even touching her anymore. Just loud. Flashy.

“Well,” Ludwig muttered. “That’s disgusting.”

“Welcome to Peltora,” Redd said, shrugging. “Adventurer capital. Full of power, gold, and ambition. Which means it’s full of people looking to grab it from the next idiot.”

Ludwig watched the girl for a few seconds longer, then let go of his sword.

Celine hadn’t moved once.

“Should’ve let me at least kick one of them,” Ludwig muttered.

“They’d just find another alley,” Redd said. “You want to fix this place? Sorry mate but you ain’t got the power to do so. Many better men tried, and they all ended up hung or food for the sewer dwellers.”

Ludwig exhaled through his nose and turned away.

“I guess I learned something new.”

“Yep, never trust anyone, especially someone feigning weakness, the weak tend to die first, and it’s rare to even meet them.” Redd replied.

The three of them stepped back into the street and walked toward the main square, where the banners of the Adventurer’s Guild fluttered in the smoke and sunlight. Behind them, the alley quieted, and the girl vanished.