Deus Necros

Once the carriage arrived to the gate, the guards went first to open the carriage door for Ludwig.

The gesture was practiced and quick, the kind done for people who mattered. Metal clinked as one of them moved the latch, and the door swung open with a smoothness that screamed preparation rather than courtesy.

Ludwig stepped toward it and paused for a fraction, not because he needed help, but because the change in treatment was too obvious to ignore.

The last time he had used gates like these, he had been another traveler with a weapon and a face no one remembered.

Now he was being handled like a piece of state business. Ludwig’s mouth tightened slightly, the kind of expression that wasn’t anger, just annoyance.

The coachman noticed and said, “The last time you came here, you were a young warrior; today, everyone knows of you, Viscount Ludwig.”

’Ah, nobility…’ Ludwig shook his head and moved out of the carriage.

He didn’t correct the coachman or accept the compliment.

Ludwig didn’t even need to inform the guard, as he was already done setting up the port to Politia. The portal frame hummed low, runes faintly lit, the gate division here already prepared as if they had been warned that their “guest” would not tolerate delays.

Once Ludwig walked through the gate, the familiar sensation of his vision changing and the scenery simply switching happened again.

The shift always came the same way, a moment where distance became meaningless, and the world decided to be somewhere else. Ludwig’s eyes steadied quickly, his undead composure treating displacement like an inconvenience rather than a threat.

Unlike the bright lit plaza of the capital, Politia was a city that was full of tall buildings that shaded the streets below.

The contrast was immediate. The air smelled different, less perfume and ceremony, more stone dust and old ink. The streets were narrower, the architecture pressed inward like the city was trying to lean over its own people. The noise was quieter too, not because the city was calm, but because sound didn’t travel the same when it got trapped between walls.

The sun was nowhere to be seen because of how tall the buildings were. Though they were nowhere near skyscrapers, they were still several dozen stories tall.

The height made the city feel like a canyon built by human hands, the sky reduced to a thin strip above, pale and distant. Shadows clung to the lower streets even at midday, and the few lanterns that hung from iron brackets looked like they had been lit out of habit rather than need.

But the most impressive building of them all was the one that Ludwig came to see.

A spiraling tower structure that protruded from the ground in the center of the city. Or perhaps, the city itself was built around the tower.

It didn’t look like it belonged among the buildings. It looked older, not simply by age, but by presence. The spiral rose with an arrogance that ignored the city’s geometry, and the stone of it didn’t match the stone of Politia.

The city felt like an afterthought, a protective shell grown around the real thing. Ludwig could sense it without needing magic. Everything here angled toward the Tower. Streets, walls, patrol routes, even the way people avoided looking directly at it for too long.

“Welcome to the tower city,” the guard said when he noticed Ludwig’s solo arrival.

The guard’s voice carried a rehearsed politeness, but his eyes watched Ludwig’s hands and posture the way gate men watched potential threats. Politia wasn’t a place where travelers wandered in casually. Anyone arriving alone and well armed was either foolish or dangerous.

“You’re the noble from the capital, right?” the guard said.

“I guess… I wasn’t informed of anything, though. Why are you acting like you were expecting me?” Ludwig asked.

He didn’t sound hostile, but the directness was blunt enough to make the guard straighten slightly. Ludwig hated being treated like an event. It made him feel like a piece being moved rather than a man walking.

“We were told that someone of great importance was arriving soon. We have a guide to lead you to the tower, Sir Ludwig.”

’They even know my name.’

The thought came with irritation rather than pride. Names spread. Names became handles. Ludwig preferred being unknown. Unknown allowed freedom.

“Sure,” Ludwig turned his head a bit to try to find this guide.

After all, the whole area around the gate was packed full of knights and guards.

Politia’s gate wasn’t like the capital’s. It wasn’t built for a ceremony. It was built for containment. Lines of guards held steady positions, spears angled, armor maintained, faces tired. The density of manpower was its own warning. This city guarded something that ate people.

One young man, barely in his twenties, was holding a book to his chest and had glasses on; he was hunching a bit over, as if he had been studying for his entire life and it affected his spine the wrong way.

The young man looked like he belonged in a library, not near a structure that erased memories and swallowed challengers. His fingers gripped the book too tightly, knuckles pale. The glasses sat slightly crooked, and his eyes kept flicking up toward Ludwig, then down again as if eye contact itself was dangerous.

“S-sir,” he muttered.

“Lead the way to the tower.””

The young man looked surprised and began skimming through his book. As if Ludwig’s bluntness made all of his preparation go to naught.

His lips moved silently as he searched for the correct paragraph, his whole body radiating the panic of someone who had rehearsed a script and just watched the actor ignore the stage directions.

“I thought you’d at least rest from travel, first at an inn, one second,” he continued, flipping the pages and landing on one he was looking for.

“Sir, do you wish to know about the history of the tower?” he asked.

“Talk while we walk,” Ludwig said.