Kharnek, red-eyed and grinning, raised Harold’s mug in victory before downing what was left.

Across the fire, Ludger dragged a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

He tried to stand—maybe to go make sure Harold wasn’t dead—but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Sit,” Elaine said gently.

And before he could protest, she’d already pulled him down, guiding his head into her lap.

“Mom, I have a reputation of a badass to keep and—”

“Shh.”

Her fingers slid through his hair with practiced ease, soft and rhythmic, the same way she used to when he was younger. The noise of the campfire faded for a moment—just warmth, the scent of smoke and home, and the quiet hum of her voice.

Ludger exhaled slowly. “You’re really doing this here, in front of everyone?”

Elaine smiled faintly. “You’ve looked exhausted since I arrived. Let me be a mother for five minutes.”

He was about to argue—then didn’t. The warmth was disarming, embarrassingly so.

Naturally, that’s when Kharnek stumbled over, ale sloshing in hand, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well, look at this!” the chieftain bellowed. “The mighty builder of the north, tamed by his mother’s hand!”

A ripple of laughter went through the nearby Northerners. Ludger didn’t even open his eyes. “Careful, Chief. You’re drunk enough to start digging your own grave.”

Kharnek laughed harder, nearly spilling his drink. “Ha! I’ve seen men slain for less comfort than that. You sure you’re not just pretending to be her obedient son so you can nap in peace?”

Elaine chuckled softly, unbothered. “Let him talk, dear. He’s harmless.”

“Until he headbutts someone,” Ludger murmured.

Kharnek threw up his mug. “To scary mothers! The only force in the world more terrifying than wars!”

Half the camp cheered, raising their drinks.

And despite himself, Ludger smiled faintly from his mother’s lap, eyes half-closed. Between the laughter, the flames, and the faint hum of peace in the air, it was the first time the north actually felt… alive.

The laughter had begun to fade into tired murmurs and low conversation. Most of the warriors were either sprawled beside the fire or halfway to sleep, their mugs still clutched in hand. The night had gone quiet — save for the soft crackle of the flames and the low hum of the northern wind.

Lord Torvares sat across from the fire, posture still impeccable even with a cloak draped over his shoulders. His sharp eyes were fixed on Ludger, who sat nearby, still pinned comfortably under Elaine’s calm but immovable maternal authority.

When the moment finally felt right, Torvares spoke. “Your reports were… thorough,” he began, his voice steady and cutting through the crackle of the fire. “But you have a habit of condensing miracles into footnotes, Ludger. I’d like to hear the details.”

Ludger glanced up, half amused, half tired. “Which miracle, exactly?”

“The one where you supposedly changed the weather,” Torvares said dryly. “Don’t think I missed that line in your last letter.”

That got everyone’s attention. Kharnek tilted his head, Viola stopped mid-sipping her juice, and even Yvar looked up from his sketch of the terrain.

Ludger sighed, rubbing his neck. “Right. That.” He sat up a bit straighter — or tried to, before Elaine’s hand on his shoulder reminded him who was still in charge of his posture. “It wasn’t intentional, first of all. But yeah, as I expanded the fields, I noticed… something.”

He gestured vaguely northward, beyond the firelight where the mountains loomed. “The snow and frost started pulling back. Not melting, not just fading — moving. Like the cold itself was retreating.”

The murmurs around the fire quieted completely.

Torvares frowned. “Moving how far?”

“Hard to measure,” Ludger said. “But definitely further north than when I started. Maybe a few meters at least.”

That earned him a few stunned looks. Even Kharnek blinked. “You’re saying the winter itself ran from you? I didn’t notice at all”

“Not from me,” Ludger corrected. “From the mana. My work reshaped the topsoil, right? I used Earth mana to stabilize it. But when I pushed deeper, the mana flow in the area started syncing to mine. I can’t blame you for not noticing, it took me a few days to realize it.”

He leaned forward slightly, tracing a circle in the dirt with a stick. “The northern cold’s been thick for decades because of all the frost-aspected labyrinths leaking mana into the atmosphere. So if I changed the balance here — if I filled the land with earth-aspected mana strong enough — the local weather would start adjusting too.”

Across the fire, Cor — the robed, scholarly sage who had been silent most of the evening — nodded, eyes glinting with interest. “It aligns with elemental theory. Mana imbalance can distort local climate, especially near labyrinth zones. If you saturated the land with enough earth-aligned energy, it could displace frost-aspected currents. However, this shouldn’t be permanent since labyrinths keep expelling mana.”

Aronia, sitting near the edge of the firelight, rested her chin on her hand. “That makes sense,” she said softly. “In the southern forests, when a dryad awakens, the woods around her flourish faster than natural. The mana spreads through soil and root — reshaping everything it touches.”

Ludger gave a faint smile. “So basically, I made some of the north allergic to frost.”

Kharnek laughed, deep and proud. “Then keep doing it, boy! Make the whole damn tundra sneeze!”

Viola rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

Torvares, however, remained thoughtful — gaze steady, mind clearly running several steps ahead. “If that’s true,” he said slowly, “then you’ve done more than just restore farmland. You’ve begun shifting the very foundation of the northern climate. That kind of change will draw attention — both from the Empire and from whatever forces control those labyrinths.”

The fire cracked sharply.

Ludger met his grandfather’s stare without flinching. “Then we’d better be ready when they come.”

The wind rose again, sweeping through the grasslands — and for a moment, the air carried a faint warmth that didn’t belong in the north.

Elaine had stayed quiet through most of the technical talk, smiling faintly as the men debated mana density and weather flow. But when the conversation began to drift toward politics again, she reached over and gently placed a hand on Ludger’s arm.

Her voice was soft — the kind that carried even over firelight. “You’ve been working yourself ragged again, haven’t you?”

Ludger blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you think that?”

She gave him the look

— the one that had silenced him since childhood. “The circles under your eyes. The way you breathe when you sit down. And,” her hand brushed his sleeve, “the fact that you’re thinner than when you left.”

He looked away, pretending to poke the fire with a stick. “I’ve been busy. Nothing new there.”

Elaine frowned slightly. “All this snow and cold—this isn’t a place meant for comfort. You’re sure you’re keeping yourself warm enough?”

That got a faint grin out of him. “I am. I even built a bathhouse.”

That earned a few surprised glances from the others. Viola raised an eyebrow. “A bathhouse? Out here?”

Ludger shrugged. “Had to. The temperature drops a lot at night. A hot soak was the only logical solution.”

Elaine smiled, clearly pleased. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

Ludger hesitated. “…Yeah, about that. I’ve only used it once.”

She blinked. “Once?”

He grimaced, expression flat. “Because it’s always full of naked and burly northerners men now. Loud ones. They treat the place like a sauna tavern.”

Across the fire, Kharnek nearly choked on his drink laughing. “It’s a blessing, boy! Nothing bonds men faster than steam, ale, and frozen air biting your arse!”

Ludger gave him a long, weary stare. “My eyes still haven’t forgiven me.”

That broke the fire into laughter. Even Lord Torvares smirked behind his mug, trying and failing to hide it.

Elaine covered her mouth, half amused, half horrified. “Oh, Ludger…”

He exhaled through his nose, tone dry. “I built a place for relaxation, and it turned into a northern spa. My life’s achievements are… mixed.”

He leaned back a little, his gaze softening as it shifted toward her belly. “Speaking of achievements… how’s my future sibling doing?”

Elaine’s expression melted into a quiet smile. “Restless.”

Ludger reached a hand forward — hesitant, as if handling something sacred — and rested it gently on her stomach. The warmth of her aura, faint and pulsing, brushed against his palm. Then, a small kick.

He blinked. “…Was that—?”

Elaine chuckled. “Yes. They’ve been getting stronger each week.”

Ludger’s mouth twitched upward. “Already kicking before being born. That’s either a good sign… or a warning.”

Arslan, from across the fire, grinned. “Runs in the family.”

Ludger smirked, still resting his hand there for a second longer. “Do they have a name yet?”

Elaine shook her head gently. “Not yet. We wanted to see them first. Let the name come naturally.”

“That’s fair,” Ludger said, leaning back again. “Just… please don’t let Father name them. Last time he tried naming a horse, we got ‘Steel-Breaker the Magnificent.’”

The fire erupted in laughter again — even Elaine failed to hide a giggle.

“Noted,” she said warmly.

And for a moment, the chaos of politics, frost, and alliances faded away — replaced by simple warmth, laughter, and the flicker of firelight reflected in his mother’s calm eyes.

The entourage stayed for three more days — long enough to see that Ludger’s reports hadn’t even scratched the surface of what was happening in the north.

Every morning brought new movement across the plains: more fences raised, irrigation channels dug, and the faint hum of mana lingering in the thawed earth. Northerners and Imperials worked side by side now — awkwardly at first, then with the easy rhythm of shared exhaustion. Even Lord Torvares, who’d come expecting to supervise, found himself quietly impressed.

On the second day, they rode out toward the camp near the labyrinth. The icy winds grew stronger the closer they got, and the land shifted from green to white again — a sharp line between rebirth and frozen age.

The labyrinth loomed in the distance, around it stood a ring of new structures — watchtowers, storage sheds, large houses — all carved with the same earth magic Ludger used to stabilize mana.

Viola’s eyes widened. “You’ve practically built a town here.”

Ludger nodded. “It’s becoming one.”

And indeed, word of it had spread. That very afternoon, a small caravan appeared from the northern horizon — a mix of fur-clad warriors and families carrying everything they owned. They were from farther north, clans once thought too stubborn to deal with. Yet here they were, drawn by rumor and hope.

Kharnek greeted them personally, but when they saw the grasslands and the construction, the hesitation in their faces softened.

“They’ve been living half a lifetime under blizzards,” Kharnek told Torvares later that night. “Now they see green. You can’t imagine what that means to them.”

Torvares nodded slowly, eyes following the torchlight flickering over the growing settlement. “I can. Hope spreads faster than conquest.”

Still, not everyone was convinced. There were whispers — some Northerners muttering that the Empire’s hand always hides a chain, others that no field could last long against the frost. But each day, more of them came to look, to ask questions, to help. And little by little, suspicion gave way to curiosity.

By the third evening, it was time for the visitors to depart. The wagons were repacked, banners folded, the air filled with the mixed scent of horses and snow.

Elaine stood beside Ludger as the sun sank low, wrapping her cloak tighter against the wind. She didn’t scold him this time, didn’t ask him to come home every month like before. She only looked at him — a long, soft look that carried pride and worry both.

“You won’t have much time for rest, will you?” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “Not until this place can stand on its own.”

She smiled faintly. “Then promise me just one thing.”

“I already know,” he said before she could finish. “I’ll come before the baby’s born.”

Her expression eased, the corners of her eyes softening. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He smiled — small, tired, but real. “You’re getting better at not lecturing me.”

Elaine’s brow arched. “Don’t tempt me.”

Kharnek’s booming laugh broke the moment as he bid farewell to the Imperial convoy, shouting something about saving ale for their next visit. Lord Torvares clasped his Ludger’s shoulder, offering a rare nod of approval.

“Keep sending reports,” the Baron said. “The court will need to see proof of progress, and I want to be ahead of the politicians.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Ludger replied dryly.

Torvares allowed himself a ghost of a smile. “Just make sure the north stays standing.”

As the carriages rolled south and the torches dimmed into the distance, the borderlands fell quiet again — only the wind, the crackle of distant fires, and the low hum of life returning to the land.

Ludger stood there a while longer, watching the trail disappear, then turned back toward the grasslands. The alliance still had cracks, the frost still waited beyond the horizon — but for the first time, the north didn’t feel hopeless.

He glanced toward the distant labyrinth, where faint blue light pulsed under the ice. “Alright,” he muttered, voice steady. “Let’s get back to work.”

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