Deus Necros

“Right, and you’re telling me that the skies will break, the monsters will come charging all the way to Politia if not more. My sister will die. And not one of the Archmages of the towers would be able to do a thing about it? Wait, let’s not forget you beating something on the level of that Glutenous death. For the third time?” Van Dijk’s voice came through the communication crystal with a calm that made his irritation far more dangerous than shouting would have been. His face flickered in pale blue light, eyes narrowed behind his dark glasses, each point laid out like a charge in court.

“Right, saying it like that does make it sound a bit far-fetched… but you must believe me…” Ludwig answered while walking through the snow.

His boots crunched into the pale crust beneath him, and the wind came down from the northern slopes in sharp bursts. Kaiser walked beside him, indifferent to the cold, his deathly mana carefully restrained beneath a traveler’s disguise.

“It’s not about believing, you Ludwig. I never doubted a single word you said. It’s the scope, this is huge. In fact, if anyone else hears it, it’ll be inconceivable… Regardless of the matter, you said you’re heading to Solania?” Van Dijk replied, and for once, there was no mockery in his tone. That alone told Ludwig enough. If Van Dijk believed him, then the man’s mind was already cutting the catastrophe into risks, resources, probabilities, and probably several morally questionable contingencies.

“I’m almost there. I didn’t want to use a gate; you never know who’s controlling the portals.” Ludwig glanced toward the horizon. Solania’s holy structures were barely visible through the falling snow, pale towers rising against the gray sky like blessed bones. Portals were convenient, and convenience was one of the oldest traps in existence.

“Good then, you’ll be meeting someone… close to our family… soon, then, if you head to a small village near Solania, Celine is there. For training.” Van Dijk’s tone shifted slightly at Celine’s name, not soft exactly, but focused. The crystal pulsed, and a faint set of coordinates appeared in Ludwig’s vision.

“The Uncle I heard about from Celine.”

“Well, he isn’t a Bastos, but yes, an Uncle. Regardless, don’t be rude to him. I’ll upload the coordinates to your crystal, head there. I’ll go and have a few words with the emperor.” Van Dijk spoke as though having a few words with the emperor was the same as knocking on a neighbor’s door. The coordinates settled into place, pointing northwest with a steady blue marker.

“You’ll think you can convince him of the shit fest that’s about to happen?” Ludwig asked, stepping over a half-buried stone and adjusting his cloak mostly for appearances.

“Thing is about telling the future, the moment you speak of it, it will change. I also have an inexplicable urge to split your head open to try and understand how you did so, but unfortunately, you’re too useful.” Van Dijk said it with such casual honesty that Ludwig almost appreciated it. Almost.

“Thanks, I guess?” Ludwig replied after a short pause. Van Dijk’s comments mostly confirmed that murder was being postponed for efficiency reasons. Still, better than being useless. Probably.

Van Dijk snorted, “Get to the coordinates first, talk with the person of interest.”

“Any picture or name?” Ludwig asked, looking down at the marker as the path curved away from Solania’s grander approach and toward colder land.

“You don’t need to do any, if Kaiser is with you, the person will show up on their own. I’ll have to handle a few things. Seems like Solania is preparing something. The Holy Order just finished an expedition into the Dark Continent. Speaking of which, that friend of yours, what was her name, Alva Urbaf, she’s making waves in the north.”

Ludwig’s frown deepened, “With the hero?” The question came colder than he intended. He had not forgotten Hiro. Hard to forget someone whose ego could probably be seen from orbit if the clouds moved aside.

“Well, that’s things for you to experience. Go on now, my sister’s safety is in your hands now, Ludwig. I trust that you won’t let what you saw in that ’vision’ of yours come to pass.” He said and stopped the call. The crystal dimmed before Ludwig could ask more, leaving him with too much information, not enough explanation, and a responsibility dropped in his lap like a live bomb wrapped in family ties.

“What a nasty personality,” Kaiser said. His tone was almost appreciative, like he was identifying an unpleasant predator from a safe distance.

Ludwig frowned when he heard Kaiser say that, after all, he was far worse. Still he didn’t comment. Some arguments were not worth having, and “which undead-related disaster had the nastier personality” was definitely one of them.

The two of them followed the crystal’s path northwest. Solania wasn’t too far off, its thin holy towers visible through the snow, pale banners snapping in the wind. But the marker led them away from the main route, toward colder land where the snow grew deeper and the air carried the smell of salt.

And right next what looked like a large glacier, a small hamlet seemed to be surviving in the harsh cold. The glacier stood beside the half-frozen sea like a crouching beast, blue-white and ancient. At its base, the hamlet clung to existence with stubborn misery. Smoke rose from crooked chimneys, thin and wind-torn. The houses were low, built from salt-darkened timber, their roofs weighed down with snow and old rope.

A few sailors were pulling out large fish nets onto the wooden bridge where the small boats would park. The bridge creaked beneath their boots, its planks slick with ice and old fish scales. Men clad in thick coats pulled together, breath steaming as they dragged nets up from the dark slush between broken ice sheets.

But the nets themselves seemed void of anything that could be called a catch. A few fish, here and there, barely enough to feed a family. Definitely not enough to sell and make a profit off. One fisherman cursed under his breath as he untangled a single fish from a knot. Another simply stared into his empty net before letting it fall at his feet.

Most of the nets were like that; the fishermen were looking depressed, annoyed, and quite defeated. No one needed to say what a bad catch meant. Less food. Less coin. More debt. More taxes paid from stores that did not exist.

Ludwig approached the first one, who seemed to be smoking a long pipe, and resting up against a brazier from the cold. The old fisherman had his back against a post near the pier, boots close to the coals. His beard was stiff with frost, and his hands looked cracked from saltwater and winter. He glanced over at Ludwig and Kaiser with the practiced suspicion of someone used to strangers bringing taxes, trouble, or both.

He took a single look at Ludwig and Kaiser and frowned, “Damn it lad, aren’t you cold? Get closer to the fire.” The invitation came gruff, almost annoyed, as though their lack of proper winter behavior personally offended him. Still, he shifted aside to make room.

Ludwig had a small smile on his face. He wasn’t someone who’d care about cold and heat, nor would Kaiser. But seeing the hospitality of this man to a stranger made Ludwig’s mood much better. After towers, Sins, collapsing skies, and Van Dijk’s idea of friendly conversation, simple decency felt almost suspiciously pleasant.

“Thanks,” Ludwig approached the brazier and put his hands up toward it. The heat licked at his palms, more sensation than necessity. Kaiser remained silent as he also did the same.

“No catch today?” Ludwig asked as he saw another boat with the same situation, too big of a net with barely any fish.

“Been like this for a bit now. Ever since the guardian died…” the man sighed, “We haven’t had any good hauls.” He tapped ash from his pipe into the snow. The word guardian made several nearby fishermen glance over before quickly returning to work.

’Better not tell him I was the reason his ’Guardian’ died.’ Ludwig kept his face still. Kill a dangerous creature in one context, and somewhere else, a hamlet lost its fish. The world loved complicated debts.

“I see, the church wasn’t helpful in that regard, I suppose,” Ludwig said carefully, watching the old fisherman’s eyes.

“Nope, nor will they, they’re people who enjoy buying at cheap price, and taxing high on what we catch, but when we can’t find catch anymore, they won’t care enough to help. We even pooled enough money to hire a priest to check what’s going on. They said they couldn’t help us.” The fisherman’s voice roughened with each sentence. There was no rebellion in him, just exhaustion sharpened into bitterness.

Ludwig looked toward Solania’s towers, pale and proud in the distance, untouched by empty nets and hungry children. And back at the fisherman. “Unfortunate then,” he said.

“I hope you didn’t come here for fish.”

“Got some business to do here,” Ludwig answered.

“That’s a nice one, business in this hamlet. Hah,” he laughed as he took another puff from his pipe.

“Ludwig…” Kaiser spoke. His voice was low, just enough to cut beneath the creak of the pier and the groan of the ice.

Immediately, Ludwig looked in the direction Kaiser was looking at. A young-looking man, barely the age of Ludwig, was standing next to the pier. He wore light clothes for the occasion and situation. Sailor clothes. The young man stood too comfortably in the cold, hands loose at his sides, the wind tugging at his clothes without drawing even the smallest shiver from him.

The fisherman, noticing Ludwig looking at the kid, said, “Able, come over, what are you doing over there?”

“On my way,” the young man named Able said as he approached the sailor. His walk was casual, almost lazy, but there was nothing loose about his attention. The closer he came, the more Ludwig noticed the wrongness. Light clothing. No flushed skin. No stiffness in the fingers. No discomfort from the wind coming off the half-frozen sea.

He handed him a small pouch, the sailor grabbed it, smelled it and smiled, “Good stuff, here,” he said as he handed him a couple silvers and stood up. The transaction was smooth, practiced enough that neither man pretended it was rare. The smell that escaped the pouch was faint but distinct beneath the coal smoke and salt. Opium. Lovely. Starving fishermen, a dead guardian, a useless church, and a young, disguised immortal dealing drugs on a frozen pier. Solania was shaping up beautifully.

“I’ll have to excuse myself. Nothing’s coming today, so it’s pointless staying here. You can enjoy the fire, and once you’re done with your business, you should probably leave. We heard news that some of those creatures have escaped toward here… don’t get caught traveling at night.” The old man said as he went away, throwing and catching the small pouch full of opium in his hand.

The young man stared at both Ludwig and Kaiser for a bit. His expression gave little away, but his eyes were too old for the face he wore. They moved over Ludwig first, then shifted to Kaiser with a sharper stillness.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked. His tone was light enough to pass as curiosity, but there was a blade hidden beneath it.

“Came looking for you,” Ludwig said. No point pretending otherwise.

“For me? How? Why? Who are you?” The questions came quickly, but the young man did not step back. His body remained relaxed, though Ludwig saw the slight shift in weight, the way one hand lowered by a fraction. Ready to run, fight, or vanish.

“I’m friends with Celine and Van Dijk’s disciple.”

“I don’t know who those are.” Able’s answer came clean and immediate. Too immediate. A good lie if the listener was ordinary. Unfortunately for him, Ludwig had spent months picking apart Pride’s micro-reactions in a death loop. This was a much easier exam.

“Would have worked if not for that.” Ludwig pointed at the man’s lips.

He wiped his lips; there was nothing there. He frowned.

“They’re not purple. Humans have hot blood; in places such as these, they’d be freezing in no time. You’re Celine and Van Dijk’s uncle, are you not?” Ludwig said. The fishermen nearby had reddened noses, cracked lips, and stiff faces from the cold. Able had none of that. His disguise was good, but it had been made to fool magical inspection, not obvious physical details.

“Strange and impressive deduction prowess coming from an undead,” he turned to Kaiser, “And a lich.” Able’s casual mask finally peeled back at the edges.

His gaze became colder, older, and far more amused.

The hamlet continued around them, fishermen dragging nets, waves scraping against ice, wind moaning through the pier.

None of them seemed to realize that the polite conversation beside the brazier had just turned into three monsters recognizing one another in broad daylight.