The question cut sharply through the stale air of the cavern. "That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?" the man demanded again, his voice tight with suspicion, eyes flicking across Ludwig's frame for any sudden movement.
Ludwig exhaled, slow and deliberate, as though weary from countless confrontations just like this one. Without a word, he reached into the inner lining of his coat. The motion was casual, but every step of it was calculated, measured enough to seem nonthreatening, yet not so slow as to appear deceptive.
The knight's gauntleted hand instinctively gripped the hilt at his waist. His breath hitched, armor plates creaking ever so slightly as his muscles coiled. The brief flicker of tension hummed like a drawn bowstring, until Ludwig's fingers emerged, not with a blade or spell component, but with parchment.
