That made Ludger frown deeply. “Me?”

Arslan nodded. “Yes. He was clear about it — said it had to be you. Didn’t explain much beyond that.”

Ludger crossed his arms, his brows furrowing as he stared off toward the icy plains. “That doesn’t sound like the Maurien I know.”

Kharnek grunted. “Your teacher, eh? The one who taught you magic?”

“Yeah,” Ludger said, still thinking. “And that’s exactly why this doesn’t make sense. Maurien’s a master mage. If he’s asking for help, it means it’s something big. But what the hell could I do that he can’t?”

No one answered. The cold wind whispered through the camp, carrying a low creak from the frozen trees nearby.

Elaine stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. But if he asked for you, then it means he trusts you.”

Ludger gave a small, half-hearted smirk. “Or it means he’s desperate.”

Arslan chuckled quietly. “Either way, you’ll have to go see him.”

Ludger exhaled, staring toward the far horizon where the gray clouds met the endless snowfields. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess I will.”

But inside, the thought kept circling like a hawk:

What could possibly make Maurien ask for help… from me?

“Maurien’s up in the mountains to the east,” Arslan said. “If you go, it’s not going to be a quick trip.”

Ludger exhaled slowly. “Figures. Nothing important ever happens next door.”

His father ignored the sarcasm and continued, “You should take a few people with you. Not just for protection—use the opportunity. Out there, the guild doesn’t have much presence. Treat it as a field lesson in delegation; you’ll need to learn how to manage people and problems outside your comfort zone.”

Ludger tilted his head, unimpressed. “You make it sound like a vacation with paperwork.”

“Good practice,” Arslan said, tone firm but amused. “And maybe you’ll learn that not every fight has to end with you breaking a boulder in half.”

Ludger sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I’ll think about who to bring.”

He hesitated, then glanced up again. “What about the letter from the capital? You sure I can just walk off while the Empire’s busy writing invitations for my neck?”

Arslan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there was confidence there. “No one’s going to touch you in broad daylight, not yet. They’re watching, but they won’t act so soon—and definitely not if Maurien’s nearby.”

That made Ludger raise a brow. “He’s that risky to mess with?”

His father chuckled softly. “You could say that. Back in his prime, his nickname was Maurien the Lone Terror.”

Elaine frowned slightly. “That’s… dramatic.”

Arslan nodded. “Dramatic, but earned. He used to hunt bandit groups alone. Not with soldiers—just him and his staff. When the Empire sent patrols afterward, all they ever found were broken weapons, burned camps, and survivors who couldn’t even look at fire without shaking.”

Ludger’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Arslan said flatly. “He traumatized half the border’s outlaw population. Even now, most brigands won’t camp near the eastern ridges. They think his ghost still walks there.”

Ludger gave a low whistle. “Great. So the guy who taught me a bit of magic is apparently a one-man horror story.”

Arslan smirked faintly. “Makes you think twice about skipping his assignments now, doesn’t it?”

Ludger sighed. “Yeah, well… at least it won’t be boring.”

He looked east, where the faint outline of jagged peaks cut into the gray sky.

Whatever Maurien needed, it wasn’t going to be simple. And that—annoying as it was—made Ludger’s pulse quicken just a bit.

Kharnek, who had been quiet for the last few minutes — suspiciously quiet for a man who usually laughed loud enough to scare snowbirds — suddenly stepped forward, a grin spreading beneath his beard.

“I’ve got an idea,” he rumbled. “Why don’t you take the new recruits with you?”

Ludger blinked at him, already wary. “…Come again?”

Kharnek’s grin widened. “A journey like that would be good training. Long march, relatively dangerous territory — perfect for testing their grit.”

Ludger raised a brow. “You mean the same recruits who almost froze to death on their first labyrinth run?”

“Exactly!” Kharnek boomed, like that was somehow a compliment. “They’ll toughen up fast.”

Ludger stared at him for a moment — then squinted, his tone perfectly deadpan.

“Kharnek… did you drink something strange this morning? Maybe swapped your ale for a dumb-dumb potion?”

That made Arslan chuckle quietly, but Kharnek just laughed, unfazed. “You wound me, boy. No, no — listen. It’s logical. You said yourself they need experience outside the guild walls. You’re heading east anyway; take them along. See who’s cut out for more than bragging.”

Ludger crossed his arms, still skeptical. “And Freyra? Don’t tell me you’re throwing her into the mix too.”

Kharnek’s grin only got wider. “Of course! She’s got fire — and by now, she should’ve figured out you’re not someone to mess with. Traveling together will be good for her. For all of them.”

Ludger exhaled slowly, massaging his temples. “So let me get this straight — you want me to march across the east with a pack of rookies and your muscle-headed daughter who thinks sarcasm is an insult to her ancestors?”

Kharnek nodded firmly. “Exactly. Builds character.”

Ludger muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘builds migraines’ under his breath.

Still, he didn’t dismiss the idea. There was some logic in it — annoying, dangerous logic, but logic nonetheless. The recruits needed real-world experience, and Freyra… well, keeping her close was better than letting her start another shouting match at camp.

Ludger took a deep breath and folded his arms, glaring at Kharnek like the man had just suggested replacing armor with snowflake-patterned tunics.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, tone flat as ice. “You want me to cross half the country, drag along a bunch of half-trained recruits who can barely stand after three hours in the labyrinth, and also bring your daughter — the human avalanche — with me? Did I miss anything, or is this some kind of northern hazing ritual?”

Kharnek opened his mouth, but Ludger didn’t stop.

“Let’s go down the list, shall we? The recruits are green, they panic when they see a skeleton, they don’t pace their mana use, and one of them—one

—still thinks ice magic works better if you shout the spell name in order to look cool.”

That earned a snort from Darnell somewhere in the back, but Ludger was already building momentum.

“Then there’s Freyra,” he continued, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Who may or may not try to punch me before we reach the first mountain pass. I was finally free of Viola’s reckless behavior since she decided to grow up a bit, and now you’re telling me I have to look after someone even worse?”

Elaine gave him that calm, motherly look that could silence a blizzard. “Ludger,” she said, tone edged with warmth and warning. “Be nicer to the new recruits. And your sister.”

Ludger sighed, rubbing his temple. “That’s not the point, Mother.” He gestured vaguely toward Freyra, who was pretending not to listen but clearly was. “She’s not even a recruit. She’s a northerner with the subtlety of an avalanche and the diplomacy of a frost boar.”

Kharnek barked out a laugh. “All true, but she’s my avalanche. And if she’s going to lead people someday, she might as well start by not breaking yours.”

Ludger gave him a look that screamed I regret everything about this alliance.

Still, deep down, he knew arguing was pointless. Kharnek’s grin said he’d already won. Elaine’s smile said she expected him to accept it. And Arslan was too busy pretending to focus on the twins to intervene.

He groaned under his breath. “…Fine. But if we all end up buried in a snowdrift because of this, I’m haunting every single one of you.”

Kharnek clapped him on the back hard enough to make his teeth rattle. “Then it’s settled!”

“Yeah,” Ludger muttered, adjusting his scarf. “Settling a disaster.”

The dawn before departure was colder than usual—thin mist crawling along the cobblestones, muffling the usual market chatter. Ludger stood in the yard of Lionsguard guildhall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. The recruits were supposed to be gathering by now.

He could hear Yvar’s voice somewhere beyond the stables—steady, patient, that rare tone that made even Rhea shut up for a moment. He was explaining the mission again: escort, observation, and whatever fresh hell Maurien had stirred up in the Eastern Mountains.

Meanwhile, Kharnek had gone the other way—straight toward the northern lodgings, where his daughter was probably pretending not to hear the summons. Ludger didn’t envy him. Convincing Freyra to “join the mission” was like convincing a storm to wait until you’d put the roof on. Still, she had come to the border town despite her many reservations, so she probably won’t back down now.

He leaned against a post, watching his breath fog. Every tick of time was another throb in his temple. He could already see the future: six recruits bickering, Freyra breaking formation, and at least one near-death experience he’d have to fix with healing magic.

Then came the real migraine.

“Wait,” he muttered, glancing toward Arslan’s office. “Who’s covering expedition pay?”

A voice drifted out through the open window. “You are,” Arslan called back, far too cheerfully.

Ludger turned his head slowly. “I am?”

Arslan stepped into the doorway, mug of tea in hand, wearing the relaxed grin of a man who knew exactly how much this would hurt. “Vice Guildmaster’s purse, vice Guildmaster’s mission. Builds character. How about that?”

“That’s not character,” Ludger said flatly. “That’s extortion.”

“Semantics,” Arslan replied.

Ludger exhaled, counting to three in his head before answering. “This mission better end with Maurien signing his guild papers and single-handedly doubling our profit margin.”

“Think positive,” his father said, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. “If it fails, you’ll still gain experience. In debt management.”

Ludger stared after him for a long moment, then rubbed his eyes. “Perfect. I can already feel my lifespan shrinking.”

Across the yard, Yva finished his briefing, sending the recruits toward the gate. Kharnek emerged next, massive silhouette beside a much smaller but furious one—Freyra, still arguing mid-step, but walking in the right direction at least.

Ludger straightened, squared his shoulders, and muttered under his breath, “Let’s get this over with before my wallet starts bleeding.”

He pushed off the post, meeting them halfway, already preparing the measured tone of command he’d need for the next few weeks. The headache would stay—he’d accepted that—but if the mission brought Maurien into the Lionsguard, maybe, maybe it would all be worth it.

Maybe.

The recruits assembled near the eastern gate—six of them in all—standing just straight enough to pretend discipline. Their breath misted in the crisp morning air, half from cold, half from nerves.

Freyra towered among them like a misplaced mountain, arms crossed, and unbothered. She looked like she’d just won a tavern brawl instead of being conscripted temporarily into a formal guild expedition. The others—Derrin, Mira, Taron, Rhea, Callen, and Yvar—watched her like someone had dropped a bear into their formation and told them to treat it as a colleague.

Ludger, of course, ignored the tension entirely. He stood before them, hands behind his back, posture military-clean despite the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

“All right,” he began, voice carrying through the courtyard. “You’ve all been briefed, so here’s how it’s going to work.”

He stepped once to the left, drawing a formation in the snow with his boot. “You five will act as proper guards representing the Lionsguard guild. Derrin, front left. Rhea, front right. Callen and Taron, middle line. Mira , you stay near the rear.”

He tapped the center of the diagram. “Freyra and I will stay here—middle of the formation. If we meet anyone on the road who insists on wasting our time, you show them this.”

He raised a folded parchment, the wax seal of the Lionsguard pressed over the Torvares bull emblem. It caught the morning light like a quiet threat.

“Guild and House both stand behind this mission. That means no one has the right to detain or question us beyond formalities… unless they had a lot more power than the baron. If they try, you walk past. No shouting, no fights. Save the aggression for things that actually bite.”

The recruits nodded quickly, eyes sharp now that orders had structure.

Then Freyra spoke. “And what exactly am I supposed to do?” she asked, voice half a challenge. “Besides walk around and make you look shorter?”

Ludger didn’t even look up from his parchment. “Your job is not to cause me more problems. You’ll find that’s a full-time occupation if you take it seriously. It will be difficult, I know. But with enough perseverance, you will be able to pull it off.”

She frowned. “And how much do we get for ‘not causing problems’?”

He glanced at her, deadpan. “At your rank? Three silver coins per day of work.”

That made Rhea blink. “Wait, rank?”

From the sidelines, Yvar raised his hand a little. “Vice Guildmaster, I was actually tasked with designing the rank system for payments. The paperwork’s still under review—”

“Too slow,” Ludger interrupted. “We’ll improvise.”

He turned to the recruits, tone dry but steady. “Effective immediately: entry-level members—‘Iron Rank’—earn three silvers a day. ‘Steel Rank,’ five. ‘Bronze Guard,’ eight. ‘Silver Guard,’ twelve. Senior or special assignments—‘Gold’—start at fifteen and scale with risk.”

Rhea whistled softly. “That’s… surprisingly organized for something you made up right now.”

“I had time to think while realizing I’m the one paying all of you,” Ludger muttered. “Necessity breeds accounting.”

Freyra crossed her arms, unimpressed. “So you made a whole system because I asked one question?”

“Yes,” Ludger said flatly. “That’s how command works. You complain, I make rules to stop the next complaint.”

That earned a few snickers from the recruits. Freyra only scowled, but her pride softened a touch under the chorus of half-suppressed laughs.

“Any more questions?” Ludger asked. Silence. “Good. Form up. The sooner we leave, the fewer headaches I’ll have by sundown.”

They shuffled into formation as ordered—weapons, bows, and cloaks in place—while Ludger adjusted his scarf and took one last steadying breath.

If this mission didn’t collapse under its own weight, it’d be a miracle. But miracles, in his experience, only happened to people too stubborn to expect them.

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