Deus Necros

Celest listened attentively while the emperor spoke to Van Dijk saying nothing.

Her gaze kept sneaking toward Kaiser.

The descriptions she had heard were incomplete, distorted by rumor, court whispers, and frightened soldiers. The dark mage who had called the Necropolitis to appear before Solania. The one connected to dead walls, undead armies, and the salvation of a city through means the church would rather burn from history. She had imagined someone old, robed, skeletal, perhaps half-rotten beneath a hood.

Instead, he looked like a pale young noble with an arrogant face and one grotesque red finger.

The finger drew her eyes more than once.

Kaiser noticed.

Of course he noticed.

”How are you feeling?” he asked.

Celest startled slightly. ”Ah... a bit exhausted. But other than that, not sleepy at all.”

”Good. The exhaustion is part of recovery. You should be good after having some special water.”

The hint was clear enough for the men in the room. The curse had reduced her vitality and lifespan, and the elven pond water would restore much of what had been lost. Celest did not fully understand the cost, but she understood enough to glance at her father.

The Emperor took a small vial from his desk, where it rested inside a velvet-lined box. The liquid within shimmered faintly.

”From the elves?” Celest asked.

”Yes,” he said. ”A gift.”

Her eyes softened with surprise. ”From the Elven Queen?”

”Through Ludwig.”

That made Celest look toward Ludwig again.

He shrugged, uncomfortable beneath gratitude that had not even been spoken yet.

The Emperor watched that exchange, and something sly entered his expression.

”Are you sure you do not want to join the imperial family?”

Celest’s eyes widened.

Ludwig closed his eyes for one brief second.

Kaiser’s face lit with malicious interest.

”I’m still far too busy for such matters, Your Majesty,” Ludwig said. ”You know I have four more of that thing to hunt down.”

The Emperor leaned back slightly. ”Your dedication is truly impressive. I am almost tempted to force your hand in this matter.”

”Father!”

Celest’s embarrassment burst out of her so sharply that it almost sounded like the cry of someone physically wounded. Color rushed into her newly recovered face, which, given how recently everyone had been worrying over her paleness, was at least medically encouraging.

The Emperor looked perfectly unrepentant.

Ludwig looked like a man facing an enemy for which no spell had prepared him.

Kaiser smiled. ”This is the best part of monarchy.”

Celest stood far too quickly for someone recovering, realized it, grabbed the chair to steady herself, then gave her father one furious, embarrassed look.

”I will return later,” she said.

”Celest,” the Emperor said, amusement still in his voice.

Then she left the study with as much dignity as a blushing princess could salvage.

The door closed behind her.

Van Dijk remained quiet.

Only someone who knew him well might have noticed the wariness in his posture. He knew how his sister felt about Ludwig. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, how complicated the boy’s existence had become. Van Dijk himself had long closed his heart on matters of love and relations.

He said nothing.

Ludwig rubbed his forehead. ”I really do not have time for this.”

The Emperor’s amusement faded. ”No?”

”No.” Ludwig leaned back in his chair. ”Right now, I’m at a crossroad I need to path.”

”Meaning?”

”I’ve been feeling it for a while now. Ever since Pride.” Ludwig’s gaze lowered to his own hand. ”Something has been watching me. I can’t shake it off. I feel like an even bigger event than what we just faced will trigger soon. So I need to grow stronger.”

The Emperor studied him. ”More than this? More than what you are?”

”Yes.”

The answer came without hesitation.

The room shifted again, away from courtly teasing and into the shape of war.

”Right now,” Ludwig said, ”I’m unable to even bring down Sloth. I damaged him. I made him retreat. That is not the same as winning.”

”No,” Van Dijk said quietly. ”It is not.”

”And if my feeling is correct...” Ludwig paused.

His skin crawled before he said the name.

Not fear exactly.

Revulsion.

”The Gluttonous Death is making a move right now. That disgusting feeling is sounding like an alarm in my head. Just thinking about that thing makes my skin crawl.”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. ”How strong?”

This time, Van Dijk answered.

”I saw it directly.”

He moved closer and placed one hand on Ludwig’s shoulder. The gesture was brief, almost restrained, but it carried weight.

”It is currently stronger than me with all my limits removed.”

The Emperor went still.

That was not a statement men ignored.

Van Dijk without limits was already a thing kingdoms should fear. Van Dijk admitting something surpassed him was not humility. It was a warning carved in black stone.

The Emperor walked slowly around his desk. ”There are too many monsters hiding in our world, and you keep stirring the beehive.”

”It’s my task from my patron,” Ludwig said. ”I can’t go against it. My reason to live and exist right now.”

”You mean Necros?”

”Yes.”

The Emperor’s gaze sharpened at the name.

For many, gods were theology. Prayer. Statues. Doctrine. For Ludwig, the name sounded like contract and chain, debt and purpose. The Emperor seemed to hear that difference.

Kaiser, who had been poking the ugly quill again, spoke without looking up. ”Well, the Gluttonous Death won’t move from his spot for the time being.”

Ludwig turned toward him. ”How would you come to that conclusion?”

Kaiser set the quill down. ”Because I went there once.”

The room became attentive.

”With the Fanged Apostle,” Kaiser added.

Van Dijk’s expression sharpened.

Kaiser shrugged. ”He was... quite satisfied with Tibari. Comfortable. Fat in the spiritual sense. Not planning on personally moving, at least not yet. But that does not mean he is inactive. He can still act from behind his glorified throne.”

”As in?” Ludwig asked.

Kaiser looked toward the Emperor. ”Has there been any unusual news spreading around lately?”

The Emperor thought for a moment. ”Nothing more than the usual. Small riots...Lack of rain and famine striking some places near the central region. Solvable and manageable matters.”

Kaiser’s expression flattened.

”That definitely tracks then.”

Ludwig’s jaw tightened. ”Famine?”

”Gluttony does not always need to walk,” Kaiser said. ”Hunger is one of the easiest doors in the world to open. Deny rain. Spoil grain. Increase appetite. Reduce satisfaction. Make people store food, steal food, kill for food. A famine can become a prayer without anyone calling it worship.”

The Emperor’s face hardened.

Kaiser continued, ”That feeling you have been getting was probably you sensing Gluttony moving. After all, you ate three of his siblings.”

Ludwig stared at him. ”I did not eat them.”

”You absorbed pieces of them.”

”Not the same.”

”Close enough for old monsters that think in essence instead of table manners.”

Van Dijk’s hand remained on Ludwig’s shoulder a moment longer, then withdrew. ”If Gluttony is influencing famine, the matter is larger than provincial relief.”

The Emperor turned toward his desk and began sorting through reports with new urgency. ”The central region has had three failed rains in succession. Storehouses were opened two weeks ago. Merchant houses requested emergency transport permissions. There were also reports of grain rot in two towns.”

”Rot?” Kaiser asked.

”Unconfirmed.”

”Confirm it.”

The Emperor looked at him.

Kaiser’s young face had lost all mockery. ”Confirm it immediately. If the grain is rotting from the inside without normal mold patterns, he has already touched the supply chain.”

Ludwig stood.

The movement was slow, but the decision behind it was not.

”Then I go there.”

”No,” Van Dijk said.

Ludwig looked at him.

Van Dijk’s voice remained calm. ”Not blindly. Not tired. Not while Sloth, and whatever remains of the church’s collapse are still moving in the background.”

The Emperor nodded. ”I agree.”

”You need information first,” Van Dijk continued. ”And allies. If Gluttony is acting through famine, then fighting him will not simply be a matter of finding a body and striking it.”

”That is the problem with these bastards,” Ludwig muttered. ”They never stand somewhere convenient and wait to be punched.”

”Sloth did,” Kaiser said.

”Sloth ran away.”

”Skill issue.”

Ludwig glared at him.

Kaiser smiled.

The Emperor picked up a bell from his desk and rang it once. A servant entered almost immediately.

”Summon the agricultural ministers, the treasury steward, the grain inspectors, and the courier office. Quietly,” the Emperor said. ”I want all reports from the central region gathered within the hour. Send officials to confirm grain rot, rainfall patterns, food riots, disappearances, and any unusual cult activity.”

The servant bowed. ”At once, Your Majesty.”

”And,” the Emperor added, ”summon Titania if she remains within the capital.”

The servant hesitated only long enough to process that, then bowed again and left.

Ludwig looked at him. ”You move fast.”

”I rule an Empire,” the Emperor said. ”Slow concern is how emperors become footnotes.”

Ludwig’s gaze drifted to the door Celest had left through.

At least one problem had been solved.

Not cleanly. Not beautifully. But solved.

Celest would wake properly. She would live. The Queen had not lost her daughter. The Emperor had been forced to allow dark magic in the heart of his palace. Van Dijk had gained an opening for controlled research.

Ludwig exhaled.

”One crisis at a time,” he muttered.

Kaiser looked at him. ”You keep saying that as if the crises are listening.”

”They might be,” Ludwig looked at the crawling of his skin and sighed.

The Emperor closed his hand over the reports on his desk.

”Then we begin with hunger,” he said.

And for the first time that day, Ludwig felt the alarm beneath his skin sharpen into something clear.

Somewhere in the central region, people were starving.

And something ancient was smiling through their empty mouths.