"Sir," a knock echoed behind the door to Ludwig's room. The sound carried clean along the grain of the wood, a polite firmness that did not try to hide its nerves.
Ludwig's reply was immediate. "What is it?"
"His majesty has woken, and wishes to meet you." The servant's voice hovered at the edge of a whisper. He measured each word as if the wrong one might cost him his tongue. Everyone in this wing had heard the story about a single sentence and a severed head. Fear travels faster than gossip inside a palace.
"Wait there for a minute. I will come with you."
Ludwig turned to the Knight King. This was a situation that required more than strength. It required tidiness. The palace would not appreciate a giant of ebony iron stepping through its corridors beside a foreigner who already alarmed half its guard. He looked at the broad black helm and at the tower shield that swallowed lamplight, then at the book on his side. Where was he going to put this massive knight of ebony.
