Deus Necros - Chapter 595: Reminiscence

Chapter 595: Reminiscence

After leaving the palace gate, a new notification appeared in front of Ludwig.

[Your Death Point has been saved to: Sand Palace Gate exterior]

Ludwig let the lines fade, feeling the quiet pull at the back of his mind that comes whenever Necros pins a thread of him to a place. A small weight, almost like a ring settling on a finger. He realized the investigation was moving along its intended road if Necros had chosen to save progress here rather than inside. It meant the next misstep would not drag him too far backward.

Looking ahead, a horse carriage waited for them beyond the shadow of the high wall. Torches ran along the avenue like a necklace of coals, their light catching on harness buckles and the lacquered flank of the coach. The horses stamped and huffed white through the night’s desert chill, silver bits ticking against teeth. Next to the carriage stood the guard captain, helm tucked under an arm, greaves dusted, hair still damp from a hurried wash.

Just as he saw the group he ushered them in with a short tilt of chin that belonged to someone used to giving orders without making a show of it.

Ludwig nodded and headed toward the captain who said, “I’ll be taking you to the port. Kasim is waiting for you there.”

“Good, I was thinking of how we’ll be navigating the desert in search of something we can’t locate,” Ludwig replied as he stepped inside. The interior smelled faintly of cedar shavings and clean wool. Cushions were overstuffed in the way of nobles who fear feeling the road.

Tull, Alex and Redd followed after, boots knocking once on the carriage step, then the door closed and the world grew smaller. Leather straps creaked. The wheels grumbled and then caught the smoother runnel stones that lined the first stretch from the palace. Once everyone settled in the slightly over luxurious carriage, Tull was the first to speak, his tone half idle, half weighing a blade in his palm. “Who’s this Kasim guy? Anyone trustworthy?”

“Sorta,” Ludwig said. “He’s a good driver. He’ll take us where we need to without a hitch.” He let the words finish and leaned back, eyes on nothing for a breath while he thought on what happened earlier.

The Lustful Death was in her terrain, and territory. The very stones listened for her footfall. Fighting her here would probably be the worst scenario. She would not need to win to ruin. Not only would she cause mass destruction and deaths, little that Ludwig cared about that in the private ledger he kept for enemies, but he was not mean enough to let innocent people die needlessly because of his own mission. There were lines even Necros did not demand he cross unless the book itself turned the page. And he realized, beyond the quick taste of fear that any sane man keeps, that he was not powerful enough to take her on as he was now.

That was the first knot. The second was uglier. The order was to take down the Envious Death. If that one was even half as strong as the Queen, the hunt would drink years. He thought of the Wrathful Death and felt the old exhaustion climb his bones like cold water. For the Wrathful Death, it took five years of dying to finally be able to beat it down. Five winters of snow in his ribs. Five summers that were as cold in his skull. And even then he had not killed it clean. He had stacked odds. He had tricked a mountain into being a weapon. After having taken out a majority of its health points from the fall damage by dropping it from the top of the highest mountain range of the empire. Dishonorable, a knight might say. Efficient, a survivor would answer. And necessary Ludwig would think.

The Queen would probably have less health, but far more destruction, because she could think. A thinking enemy in an intact city. Five years of fighting would probably be an understatement if he were to fight her now. Not even ten years of constant battle would be enough to bring her down if the battleground remained her home, and only god knew how much devastation she would cause while he learned the rhythm of her breath. If he could take her down in the first place. He did not enjoy the taste of that if.

The problem was not the Lustful Death. The problem was the thread that tied all of this to his own spine. The order to take down the Envious Death, if she had stitched herself into the same cloth here, meant time he did not have. It was tied to his Eternal Quest, and he needed to achieve that no matter the cost.

Without reaching his upper Existence level, he could not touch [Nightbreaker]. The word itself felt like a weight when it crossed his thought. Nor could he claim the armor that had a name like a verdict, [Lord of All that is Metal].

There was another wall. Metallurgy. He had no idea how to raise what the system named as craft. He was a mage and a swordsman at once, but he had never worked a bellows or married iron to carbon with the patience of a smith. He could learn, but the world did not pause its breath while men picked up new trades.

“What’s on your mind?” Redd asked. “Thinking about…”

“Shhhu.” Ludwig cut him off without turning his head. “We’re still not safe, wait until we’re outside the city range.”

Redd’s mouth shut and his eyes went to the window slit. The prince said nothing, reading the air. Tull placed two fingers on the inside wall of the carriage, as if to feel whether the wood itself had ears. Everyone understood that Ludwig had a coil of ideas he would not lay out on palace stone. They were full of doubt and suspicion about why he stood the way he did in front of the queen, but if the man who slew the Guardian of the Northern Peaks of Solania could be called timid by any watcher in that room, then that watcher had never met a hunter choosing the time to set the hook.