When Ludger got back home, the faint scent of soap and herbs was already in the air—Elaine had clearly been preparing for this exact situation. She met him at the doorway with that calm-but-knowing look only mothers possessed.

“Let me guess,” she said, arms crossed but smiling faintly, “the twins decided to remind you what real responsibility smells like?”

Ludger gave a tired nod. “Both of them. At once.”

Elaine chuckled softly. “They’re consistent, at least.” She took charge effortlessly, lifting the twins out of the stone stroller and laying them on the table covered with soft cloth. Ludger assisted by conjuring a thin stream of water—precise, steady, and warm—to help clean them up.

Elaine raised an eyebrow as the stream hovered perfectly under her direction. “You’ve gotten better at that.”

“Control’s fine,” Ludger said, focusing on maintaining the spell’s temperature. “But I should probably train my Rain Sorcerer skills too. Been using too much rune magic lately.”

“Mm.” Elaine hummed, approving but distracted as she wrapped the twins in clean blankets. “Water magic’s gentler for this kind of thing. Earth’s too… blunt. Wait, Rain Sorcerer?”

Once the twins were asleep again, she wiped her hands and gestured toward the desk where his manual sat. “I finished reading your book, by the way.”

Ludger perked up. “And?”

“It’s… impressive,” she admitted. “Detailed, organized, and probably more useful than half the manuals out there. But I don’t really understand why.”

“Why what?”

“Why write it at all?” she asked, genuine curiosity softening her tone. “You already know how to heal. You don’t need this for yourself.”

Ludger leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I wanted to see if I could teach others. If I can break down Healing Touch into something reproducible—something even people without talent could learn—then we can train healers faster. That could save lives when the guild expands.”

Elaine blinked, studying his expression—the calm conviction that always looked too heavy for his age. “You’re trying to make such a rare knowledge out of instinct,” she said quietly. “Turn magic into something anyone could learn.”

“Exactly,” Ludger said simply. “If I can do that, then we don’t have to rely on luck or lineage.”

Elaine sighed softly but smiled. “You really don’t know how to take it easy, do you?”

Ludger shrugged. “Working on it,” he said dryly, earning a small laugh as the room finally settled into a peaceful quiet—just the sound of the twins breathing softly, and the faint drip of conjured water still hanging in the air.

After a while, Ludger leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as he watched his mother place the manual neatly on the table.

“I’m planning to add some simple exercises next,” he said. “Things to make people feel how mana flows when healing. The kind of drills that teach your body before your brain catches up.”

Elaine looked up at him, intrigued. “So, not just Healing Touch?”

“Not just that,” Ludger confirmed. “I’ll make variations—something to help others grasp magic in general. I don’t want to spread it too much or water it down, but if enough people in the guild can use even basic healing or support spells, we’ll be able to grow our influence fast.”

He said it plainly, but his tone carried quiet conviction. “We wouldn’t have to rely on outside mages or the Empire’s goodwill. We’d have our own structure—our own foundation.”

Elaine smiled faintly at his seriousness but then seemed to remember something. “Speaking of the guild,” she said, setting down her cup. “It looked like they received an important message earlier. Your father left right after breakfast—Yvar called for him.”

That caught Ludger’s attention. “Yvar?”

“Yes,” she said. “He didn’t say much, but it looked urgent.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly, the familiar spark of curiosity lighting behind them. “Alright,” he said, pushing off the wall. “I’ll check what’s going on.”

He turned to leave but stopped at the door. “Keep the book,” he added. “Try practicing some of the simpler exercises in it—it might help the twins settle down when they start crying.”

Elaine raised an eyebrow, a touch of humor returning to her voice. “Are you implying healing magic works as a lullaby now?”

Ludger shrugged, already halfway out the door. “Worth testing. Well, the feeling of the spell when receiving its effects aren’t half bad. It can help with upset stomachs at least.”

And with that, he was gone—boots clicking lightly on the stone path, the morning calm replaced by the faint hum of anticipation as he made his way toward the guild.

The guild looked exactly the same as always—same heavy doors, same banners fluttering gently in the draft, same faint smell of metal polish and coffee lingering in the air.

But something was off.

The front steps were empty. Normally, Harold, Aleia, Selene, Cor, and sometimes even Aronia would be there, lounging around the entrance like it was a tavern patio, chatting about random things or bickering about whose turn it was to buy lunch. Their absence made the place feel wrong—quiet in a way the Lionsguard guild never was.

Inside, the entrance hall wasn’t any better. No clatter of boots, no distant laughter from the training room. The front desk sat unattended, Yvar’s usual mountain of papers stacked neatly in place—but no Yvar.

Ludger frowned. At this hour, the man should’ve been planted there like a decorative statue, grumbling about requisitions and complaining about ink shortages. Sometimes Ludger joked that they’d get more contracts if they replaced Yvar with a pretty woman in the reception. Yvar had laughed once… then spent a week pretending to consider early retirement.

But right now, the desk was empty.

Ludger rubbed his chin, eyes scanning the hall. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “Either everyone got eaten, or something’s happening out back.”

And knowing this place, either option was possible.

Ludger made his way through the guild’s quiet hall, the stillness so out of place it prickled at the back of his neck. When he reached his father’s office, he found the reason for it—Harold, Aleia, Selene, and Cor were all gathered outside the door. None of them were talking.

Selene noticed him first. Her eyes widened slightly, and she immediately began making hand signs—quick, sharp motions meant to pass some kind of message. Ludger frowned. He didn’t understand most of it; Selene’s gestures weren’t standard signals, just her own shorthand, and he’d never bothered to memorize her “silent mode.”

Still, he got the gist. She wanted him to leave.

Which was strange. Selene never told him to back off unless something was serious.

Ludger glanced at the door to his father’s office, then back at her. She pressed her finger to her lips and flicked her hand toward the hallway again, urgency in her eyes.

He sighed quietly. “Fine,” he mouthed, and turned away.

He slipped into one of the adjacent empty rooms—an unused briefing space lined with old maps and cracked wall charts. From there, he waited. The guild was so quiet that every small sound carried: the low hum of a lantern, the faint shuffle of boots against stone.

Then came footsteps. Slow, heavy, and clear. They approached from the far side of the corridor, paused near Arslan’s office, and lingered for a moment before receding into the distance. The air seemed to loosen once they were gone.

A few minutes later, Selene’s voice broke the silence, low and firm through the door. “You can come out now.”

Ludger stepped back into the hall, his expression flat but curious. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t routine.

Ludger stepped out into the hall, still frowning slightly. “Alright,” he said, brushing some dust off his sleeve. “What was that about?”

Selene folded her arms, her usual playful grin absent. “You’ll want to ask your father. Not me.”

That answer did nothing to ease his curiosity, but she was already walking toward Arslan’s office, so he followed.

When they entered, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Arslan and Yvar were inside—both standing near the desk, both wearing expressions that could curdle milk. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste.

The moment Arslan noticed him, the Guildmaster let out a quiet breath. “Good. You didn’t come in earlier,” he said. “That’s… a small blessing.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “Visitors?”

Arslan nodded once. “Another guildmaster. Came all the way from the southern routes to see you. Wanted to request your services personally.”

Ludger blinked. “My services?” He frowned deeper. “That’s not how guild work operates. I’ve never heard of that kind of thing.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Arslan replied. His tone was steady but carried a weight that told Ludger he wasn’t exaggerating. “It’s rare—happens only when one guild formally petitions another for outside expertise. Even then, it’s usually handled through intermediaries, not personal visits.”

Yvar added, his hands still clasped behind his back, “And definitely not when the one they’re asking for is ten years old.”

Ludger tilted his head slightly. “So this was… special.”

“Uncomfortably so,” Arslan said. “He didn’t just come for help—he came for you by name.”

Arslan let out a low breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I told him you were busy,” he said. “Between guild work, the labyrinth, and the town’s expansion, I made it clear you didn’t have the time.”

Ludger crossed his arms. “And?”

“And he said he could wait.”

That pulled a small frown from Ludger. “Wait? For me?”

Arslan nodded. “Apparently, the request was specific. He didn’t want any mage—he wanted you.”

Ludger’s brows knit together. “Alright, fine. What’s the job?”

Arslan hesitated for a moment, then finally said, “Construction.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “Construction.”

“A bridge,” Arslan clarified.

Ludger blinked. “…A bridge.”

His father nodded again, more heavily this time. “Not just any bridge. They’re planning to connect the continent to an archipelago roughly a hundred kilometers off the mainland. A joint project between several territories and trade guilds.”

Ludger stared at him in disbelief. “A hundred kilometers?”

“Give or take,” Yvar added from the corner, adjusting his glasses. “It’s one of those ‘grand vision’ kinds of projects. Half the people involved probably don’t believe it’s even possible.”

Ludger’s expression went flat. “No wonder they’re desperate.”

Arslan gave a tired chuckle. “Exactly. They want earth mages who can handle long-range stabilization and mana-based reinforcement. And apparently, someone mentioned your name in the mix.”

Ludger exhaled slowly, processing the scale of it. A bridge over the sea—one hundred kilometers long. Even with reinforced earth magic, the logistics alone would be a nightmare.

“…That’s not a job,” he said finally. “That’s a declaration of insanity.”

Arslan smirked faintly. “Which is probably why they thought of you.”

Arslan leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. “There’s another reason they wanted you,” he said. “They’re not just after your talent—they’re trying to use you as bait.”

Ludger frowned. “Bait for what?”

“Who,” Arslan corrected. “Gaius Stonefist.”

That name made Ludger pause.

Arslan nodded, confirming his thought. “They’re hoping that if you take the job, he’ll follow. You were his last pupil, after all. Word’s already spread that you picked up earth-shaping younger than anyone in any Guild Register’s history. They probably tried convincing him to join first and failed.”

Ludger’s gaze dropped slightly, expression unreadable. He remembered the old man vividly—gravel-voiced, temper like a landslide, and more scars than wrinkles. Gaius Stonefist wasn’t a nickname; it was a reputation carved into history. One of the greatest earth mage of his era, and one of the few who treated magic like craft instead of power.

He’d sent Gaius a few letters over the past year—updates on Lionfang, invitations to join the Lionsguard, a few questions about geomancy —but replies were rare. Short notes, if anything. Once, he’d gone months without hearing a word.

“Figures,” Ludger muttered. “He never liked working for other people. If they tried to rope him into a continental bridge project, he probably told them to shove it.”

Arslan smirked faintly. “That’s the impression I got too.”

Ludger sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So they thought I’d be an easier target.”

“Looks that way,” Arslan said. “But I think they underestimated how much you take after him.”

Ludger gave a small, humorless grin. “Then I guess I’ll have to disappoint them the same way he did.”

Arslan’s smile was thin—too forced to hide the tension behind it. He rested his hands on the desk and said, “The thing is… while their idea’s a bit insane, their offer isn’t bad.”

Ludger tilted his head. “Go on.”

“The islands they want to connect—the ones in that archipelago—they’re sitting on top of a labyrinth. One they already have under control. And they’re offering to share half of the resources from it if we help them build the bridge.”

Ludger nodded slowly. “Half the resources from a controlled labyrinth… that’s not pocket change.”

“No,” Arslan agreed. “It’s enough to feed an army—or build one.”

Ludger went quiet for a moment, then asked the question that always came next. “Can they be trusted?”

That wiped away the last trace of Arslan’s smile. He looked down for a second, then said carefully, “That’s the problem. The guild behind this has ties to one of the most prominent noble families in the south.”

Ludger’s brows furrowed. “Which one?”

“The Hakuen House.”

The name rang a faint bell somewhere in his mind, but he couldn’t place it. “I’ve heard that name before,” he muttered, “but I can’t remember where.”

Arslan’s tone went dry as the northern frost. “Probably because the heir of that family is the one Viola broke the nose of.”

Ludger blinked. “…Oh.”

Arslan nodded grimly. “Yeah. That Hakuen family.”

Ludger leaned back, rubbing his temple. “So not only is this job impossible—it’s also politically suicidal.”

“Pretty much,” Arslan said, finally allowing himself a chuckle. “Which means they’ll fit right in with us.”

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