Deus Necros

The princess led Ludwig to the upper floor, where they walked out of the palace’s internal halls and onto a large veranda that overlooked the garden. The daylight was almost gone, but it was still there. Lantern light from the vernada were lit up to both set a specific kind of mood and also ward off the creeping night.

The transition was immediate. Inside, the air had been thick with perfume and heat from bodies packed too close. Outside, the day was cooler and cleaner, carrying the faint scent of trimmed hedges and flowers that only bloomed for nobles. The garden below looked carefully arranged, paths and bushes shaped into beauty the way the court shaped people into roles. Even the wind felt trained here, moving gently through leaves as if it had been instructed not to disturb the palace.

The music was barely audible here.

He could still hear it, the muffled pulse of strings and laughter, but it was distant now, not pressing against his skull. Out here, the silence had room, and room meant he could think. He could plan. Even sitting was another kind of battlefield.

There was a table set already, as if expecting two people to sit in.

The arrangement was too perfect to be accidental. The chairs were placed at the exact distance that allowed intimacy without impropriety, close enough to speak quietly, far enough to keep posture formal.

The wine was already poured, and the salted dishes were the kind meant to make you drink more. Ludwig noted all of it the way he noted traps. Not because he thought Celest was his enemy, but because palaces did not create “private” moments without witnesses somewhere and purpose everywhere.

“Let us sit,” she said.

A servant came and pulled the chair for the Princess while Ludwig sat down after her.

The servant’s hands were practiced, silent, and then the figure retreated quickly, leaving them with the illusion of privacy. Ludwig waited until the footsteps were gone before he spoke, because even walls in palaces listened.

“What is it that you want from me?” Ludwig asked.

He didn’t pretend this was a casual meeting. If she had requested him, there was a reason. If the Emperor had ordered it, there was a reason stacked behind her reason. Ludwig’s voice stayed even, not hostile, just direct.

“Rather blunt,” she replied as she held her cup, “I want to hear… stories. Of you, of who you fought, and what you went through.”

The way she told stories was almost childish for a moment, like she was asking for something forbidden that she could only get by asking the right person. Yet her eyes were sharp, not dreamy. She wasn’t requesting a bard’s version. She wanted the raw thing. Ludwig respected that more than flattery.

“I’m afraid that I’ll bore you.”

He lifted his cup, letting the scent of the wine rise without drinking. He didn’t trust gifts that came too easily, and in this palace, even a cup of wine could be a tool.

“What you’re doing right now is boring me, Ludwig. Tell me of Solania, of the Wrathful Death, the Envious Death, the Lustful Death, and I suppose many more… I want to know. Hearing it from others is definitely less entertaining than hearing it from the source.”

There was impatience, but it wasn’t petulant. It was hunger, the kind that came from living surrounded by polished lies. Ludwig could see it clearly now. Celest was suffocating in a palace where everything was rehearsed, and he was something unscripted. That made him valuable to her, at least for tonight.

Ludwig had to give her what she wanted, after all, there was no reason to make her feel rejected. And if he played his cards right… ’I can get her to facilitate the meeting with Andre and leave this place.”

He didn’t smile at the thought, but the practicality settled in. Celest was not just a princess; she was access. If she wanted stories, he could trade stories for convenience. That was how courts worked, only the currency was different.

“Sure. Who do you want to hear about first?”

“Hmm, the one that caused you the most worry… as in the most dangerous one of these enemies you’re fighting.”

“Most worry, huh.” Ludwig leaned a bit on his chair as he grabbed the wine.

He let the glass turn slightly in his hand, watching the liquid catch sunlight. Worry was a strange word to hear in a palace, as if danger were a tale and not a daily reality. Yet the question wasn’t stupid. It was a way to gauge his world, and perhaps gauge him.

“It’s none of the ones you mentioned. It’s one you probably won’t know…” Ludwig said.

“And who might that be?” she asked, eyes sparkling with expectations.

“Among all the Deaths I’ve met. It’s been the Glutenous Death that still causes me to worry.”

The name carried weight in his mouth. Not because he feared it in the way mortals feared death, but because he remembered what it meant to be dismissed as nothing. Wrath and envy could be fought.

Hunger was a law.

“Oh, tell me about him.”

“Do you know of Tibari?” Ludwig asked.

“The fallen empire? Its domain is within Lufondal, but it’s almost impossible to visit.”

“Yes, I’ve been there,” Ludwig said.

Her eyes sparkled more, “Tell me.”

“I will,” Ludwig said and began telling her the tale of how, when he was far too weak, too pitiful to even be considered a threat. Had walked the land of the forgotten empire of Tibari. Ruled once by the Knight King, who now became his own Death Knight.

He spoke in the same tone he used when describing monsters, practical and unsentimental. Tibari had not been a heroic pilgrimage. It had been rot, silence, and a hunger that lingered in the air like a curse. He described streets that felt abandoned by time, the way bodies moved with empty purpose, the way the world itself seemed to have forgotten what warmth was.

He talked about the lands around it, the people starved for food that could fill their hollowed souls.

Bodies that moved and talked, but wills forever bound to a king who ruled with hunger.

Then he talked about the massive Library, and how he met the crazed Knight King. How he obtained Salem. And how he went face-to-face with the Glutenous Death, who merely dismissed them.

Ludwig told her of his own futility and inability to do anything when he realized the scope of power he had to match to even be worth looking at by the Glutenous Death.

He didn’t call it fear. He called it understanding. The kind that arrived like cold water poured down the spine. The kind that made ambition feel stupid.

He told her how even his master had no tricks up his sleeves to get them out. And if it wasn’t for the Glutenous Death’s own lack of Hunger for how weak Ludwig was. He wouldn’t have been here talking to the princess.

“And that was the first one I met…” Ludwig said.

The Princess had long since leaned back on her chair, listening and imagining the trials Ludwig had gone through. She sensed that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, and he made sure to be pragmatic and direct when recounting. She realized that he could have lost his life many times over back then. And that alone was enough for any other knight to brag about for a lifetime.

But now, this story, this was untold. No one from Lufondal Knew of it. Only she did, a story for herself and hers alone.

“Can I see him?” She said.

“Who?”

“Salem. From what you said, and what I saw before, it seems that it was that creature that’s attached to your shadow.”

“It’s an Umbral hound… though calling it a hound is a bit…” Ludwig looked at his own shadow, “Salem, come out.”

The command was quiet, almost casual, but the shadow beneath him thickened as if it had been waiting for permission. The light seemed to dim slightly around his feet, not from magic flaring, but from something dark stretching itself in comfort.

The feline creature emerged from Ludwig’s shadow, revealing its head alone.

Black as the night, and gold of eyes, the ’cat’, looked at the princess with lazy eyes, blinking slowly.

“Stop being shy,” Ludwig said.

And the creature emerged. It jumped up the table and looked at the Princess, who seemed mesmerized by the color of its eyes.

“What a magnificent creature,” she said as she slowly got her hand closer to Salem.

Ludwig worried that if Salem acted like a real cat, he would scratch the princess’s hand off. But thankfully, the Umbral Hound simply surrendered to the hand and allowed the princess to pet him.

“So soft and fluffy,” she said as she seemed more eager to rub his head. And once she heard the purring of the beast, she fell head over heels for it.

The purr sounded wrong coming from something born of shadow, deeper than any normal cat’s vibration, but it clearly pleased Celest. Ludwig watched carefully anyway. Salem was loyal, but Salem was still Salem. He did not like assuming anything was harmless just because it looked harmless.

Without hesitation, she plucked one of the ribbons from her own dress, a long blue stripe of silk and what felt like gold. She then placed it around Salem’s neck and managed to somehow create a ribbon tie that fit him like a glove.

“Perfect, now you’re black as night and handsome as your master.” The princes gave Ludwig a grin that could give a man diabetes.

Salem seemed pleased with the new addition, and instead of removing it as any normal cat would, it swooned over the princess and jumped on her lap, purring and snuggling into a round ball of fur.

Celest continued petting the cat as she talked to Ludwig, “I know you’re in a hurry,” she said.

“How did you know that?” Ludwig asked.

“Anyone else would put their entire fortune for a meeting with me. To be part of the Lufondal imperial family not only would secure their future, but also give them power. Kings and princes from other countries would willingly hunt down dragons for my sake. But you, you’re guided by something, a duty. And the fact that you’re giving the princess of Lufondal little regard, not a single glance of courtship, means either one of two things.” She said.

“And they are?”

She smiled, “Either you’re impotent and like men, and you don’t look the type…” she smiled.

“or?” Ludwig didn’t fall to her taunt.

“Or you’re tied to something as dangerous as the Glutenous Death.”

Ludwig was impressed by her insight.

He had met plenty of nobles who only saw what they wanted. Celest, for all her sheltered life, had eyes that worked. She had watched him in the hall, watched what he ignored, watched what he refused to chase. She had reached the correct conclusion without needing him to confess anything.

“You’re correct on the second one. I have another to take down…” Ludwig said.

“And who is this one?” she asked.

“The Prideful Death. This one is a bit tricky,” Ludwig said.

“Tricky as in?” she asked.

“I need to prepare for him, and it starts with learning how to handle metal.”

“I don’t understand how those two are related… but I’ll help you achieve what you want.” She said.

“Why are you doing this for me?” Ludwig asked.

He wasn’t accusing her. He was checking the shape of the deal. Even kindness in palaces had contracts hidden inside it.

“Because it sounds like it would be another story to tell. I’d like to hear it from you once you’re done.”

Ludwig nodded, “Then I’ll oblige. Pride should be more than just a mere Chapter. And honestly, I believe he might be my biggest challenge yet.” Ludwig said.

“Then it will be a good story.”