He did not draw a weapon. He did not cast a spell. He simply stepped out of the cell and caught the nearest guard by the back of the neck before the man had fully registered that death was standing beside him. Ludwig's fingers dug in, found the throat, and tore. The guard's body jerked violently, both hands flying up as blood spilled between his fingers. He tried to scream, but the sound came out as a wet choke.
The second guard turned fast enough to reach for his blade. Not fast enough to matter. Ludwig crossed the space and drove him into the wall with one hand clamped around his mouth and the other buried into the side of his neck. Bone cracked under his grip. Flesh opened. The guard's eyes went wide with animal terror as blood ran down his armor and soaked into the white cloth beneath. Ludwig held him there, watching the hope flee from his gaze one trembling second at a time.
