The atmosphere in the manor had grown heavier, not from conflict, but from the kind of tension that fills a room when too much is left unsaid. Even after the meeting with the Baron, the group remained quiet—each member retreating into their own thoughts. The storm had not yet arrived, but its wind was already whispering between the words.
Ludwig’s silence lingered long after the rest had turned to idle chatter. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw gave him away. He wasn’t just thinking. He was calculating. Preparing. Ready to stand up before anyone else could open their mouth.
That Quest window was nagging and almost assaulting his brain, the worry of losing the Codex Pages much was too much of worry for him to keep still. The risk of losing the Knight King wasn’t worth taking.
Baron Baltimore, watching him closely, was the first to speak. “You don’t look so good, Sir Davon,” he said, his tone carefully measured—somewhere between curiosity and concern.
Ludwig didn’t respond at first. Then he exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing. “Of course I don’t. Whenever the Holy Order gets involved in something, it’s bound to turn into a clusterfuck of problems.”
The words came out dry, edged with restrained frustration. It was the kind of language not often expected from a noble, and for a moment, the Baron blinked in mild surprise. He cleared his throat delicately, masking his reaction with the soft cough of someone used to navigating dangerous conversations.
“I wouldn’t say such things too freely,” the Baron cautioned, lowering his voice just enough that it stayed between the two of them. “Even here, in the comfort of my manor… blasphemy tends to echo in the ears of those who wish to hear it. And we both know where that road leads.”
Ludwig nodded, but it wasn’t agreement. It was resignation. He already knew. The weight of secrecy was something he carried daily.
“I’ll need to head out to the Dawn Isles soon,” Ludwig said, rising from his seat.
Timur’s voice cut in, sharper than usual. “Wait. We haven’t even rested yet.”
The words hit Ludwig like a reminder—strangely distant, as if he’d momentarily forgotten what exhaustion even meant. He looked at Timur and remembered, for just a breath, that the others were still bound by the laws of mortality. His own body, dead but animate, moved without the burdens of fatigue. He no longer grew tired. No longer burned through energy or breath. What they called exhaustion, he knew only as silence. Undeath didn’t give him strength—it just removed the limits.
“I know you’re exhausted,” Ludwig said calmly, eyes flicking between the group, “that’s why I’ll move ahead of you.”
The room grew still.
The Baron leaned forward slightly in his chair, voice firm. “Don’t be foolish, Sir Davon. You too must be worn out from the fighting. Especially you.”
Ludwig didn’t reply right away. Not because he was searching for words, but because the conversation itself felt like friction. He wasn’t trying to be reckless. He simply couldn’t afford to wait. The longer he stayed, the closer the Order would get to the Isles—and the smaller his margin for movement became.
“I can handle myself,” Ludwig said.
There was no bravado in his voice. No pride. Just certainty.
Melisande’s voice rose next. No smile. No teasing. Just a sharp clarity that cut through the room.
“Davon.”
He turned his gaze toward her, and for once, she didn’t look away.
“You’re only human,” she said.
The statement was simple. Honest. But so far removed from the truth that Ludwig almost corrected her instinctively. Still, he didn’t. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. And it wasn’t her fault.
“You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger every time something feels urgent,” she continued. Her brows drew together, the heat in her voice giving way to something closer to worry. “The Baron said the Holy Order won’t be moving for at least a couple of weeks. We have time. You have time.”
She stepped closer, her tone firm but not confrontational. “There are still things we need to take care of before we go. Supplies. Information. We’ll go with you, all the way to the Isles if that’s what it takes. But give us a couple of days. You deserve at least that much. You pulled us out of a place most people don’t return from.”
Ludwig held her gaze a moment longer. Then looked away.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t push.
He simply sighed and gave a small nod.
“I’ll excuse myself, then.”
As he turned to leave the room, he paused at the threshold, then pivoted slowly.
“Where will I be staying?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if the edge of departure had already dulled.
The Baron smiled, his earlier sternness melting back into familiarity. He clapped his hands once, and the head butler appeared from the hall.
“Please take Sir Davon to our guest suite,” the Baron said, then glanced back toward the rest of the party. “As for the rest of you, I’ll send a letter to the Guild. There’s always a Vampire Hunter or two hovering around. They’ll find you with your reward before the week’s end.”
The butler inclined his head slightly and gestured to Ludwig to follow. Together they moved through the dimly lit halls of the manor, their footsteps soft against the carpeted floors. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was practiced. The butler had the kind of presence that didn’t ask questions unless ordered to.
When they reached the guest room, the butler opened the door and gestured inside. “If you require anything, please ring the bell. We will respond immediately.”
Ludwig nodded once, wordless.
The room was spacious. A desk. A reading corner. A tall bed carved from deep oak, layered with blankets far too warm for someone who didn’t feel the cold. He sat down near the window, placing his gloves on the nearby table, and exhaled slowly.
The quest pressed at the edges of his thoughts like nails. He was running against time, and the knowledge that every hour might cost him dearly gnawed at his calm.
He didn’t know how long he sat like that—thinking without thinking—before a knock came at the door.
Not loud. Just three knocks, evenly spaced. Intentional.
Ludwig stood and opened it.
Baron Baltimore stood outside, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses pinched in his fingers. His coat was open now, shirt slightly loosened, and the look in his eyes wasn’t that of a merchant or noble.
“May I?” the Baron asked.
Ludwig stepped aside without a word, letting him in.
The Baron moved without fanfare. He set the bottle down, poured wine into both glasses, then passed one across to Ludwig, who accepted it with a nod. Still, he didn’t drink.
The Baron took his seat across from him, letting out a quiet breath.
“I had a feeling you didn’t want to go with Timur’s party,” he said.
Ludwig’s eyes stayed on the rim of his glass.
“They’ll die,” he said.
The Baron took a slow sip from his cup before responding. “Given what you described, I don’t even doubt that for a second. If I send them with you, there’s no question they’ll lose someone. Maybe more. They’ve already lost enough.”
Ludwig looked up. His voice didn’t shift, but there was something colder in it now. “I don’t need more people to watch over. I’m already doing everything I can to stay alive. I’m not a leader. Not a protector. I’m not here to save anyone.”
The Baron nodded once, neither disagreeing nor offering sympathy. “You’re humble, and you know your own worth. That’s rare among adventurers. Even rarer among nobles.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed letter, placing it on the table between them.
“This will get you into the Dawn Isles,” he said. “The Vampire Hunters are restricting access right now. But my name still opens some doors.”
Ludwig didn’t reach for the letter, not yet.
“What about them?” he asked. “Timur and the others.”
“I’ll clear their debt,” the Baron replied without hesitation. “It’s not much, and they’ve earned more than that. They’ll also keep the Guild reward. I’ve worked with them for years—I won’t let them die in a random ditch, not when I can help it.”
Ludwig exhaled softly through his nose. He didn’t thank the Baron, but his silence was less sharp now.
“You’ll leave tonight. Midnight. My butler will come for you and take you through a side route. You’ll reach a hamlet near Mira’s edge. There’s a boat waiting there—one of mine. It’ll take you to the Isles.”
The Baron leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter.
“There’ll be a few Vampire Hunters aboard. Keep your distance. They think they’re divine gifts to the world, and if they find an excuse to act, they will.”
Ludwig nodded once.
The Baron withdrew a small silver insignia—a boar framed in blue enamel.
“Show this to my people if you find them. Tell them to return immediately. I don’t want the Holy Order purging civilians.”
He stood after that, straightening his coat again.
“As for what you do on the Isles…” he met Ludwig’s eyes. “That’s your business. I won’t ask questions.”
Ludwig raised a brow slightly. “And Timur?”
“The less he knows, the better. He won’t be able to follow you without the letter. If he gets angry, I’ll deal with that later.”
With nothing more to say, the Baron moved to the door.
“Good luck,” he said. “And if luck won’t have you—survive.”
He stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.
Ludwig sat alone again. This time, the silence didn’t settle.
It coiled.
Midnight was close.
And so was the sea.