She nodded, setting her fork down. “He said we could use the manor freely for as long as we needed. His staff’s orders were clear—feed us, house us, don’t ask questions.”

“That’s generous,” Selene said dryly from further down the table. “Almost too generous.”

Harold grunted in agreement, still eating like nothing could ever bother him. “Either he’s trying to look polite or he’s making sure we take the blame if something happens while he’s gone.”

Kharnek leaned back in his chair, his massive frame making the wood creak. “You trust a man who vanishes when guests arrive?”

“I don’t trust him,” Viola said evenly. “I just don’t care. We claimed oversight on the bridge. The Hakuen family can pretend that means distance.”

Ludger stabbed another piece of fish with his fork, frowning. While wondering why everyone was comfortably bashing the family of the house while eating on their table. Did Ludger miss something?

A moment of silence passed over the table, the crash of waves filling it.

Ludger leaned back slightly, looking around at the immaculate room, the polished silver. Something about all of it—the emptiness, the too-perfect hospitality—felt wrong.

Morning came bright and sharp, the sea breeze cutting through the manor’s open windows and carrying the clean scent of morning. Sunlight spilled across the long breakfast table, turning the polished silverware into streaks of gold.

The staff moved quietly around them, setting out trays of food. Ludger sat near the middle of the table, arms folded, watching as the rest of the group filtered in one by one—Arslan with his usual half-awake calm, Elaine already immaculate as if she hadn’t slept at all, Kharnek and Freyra both looking like they’d been up since dawn doing laps out of guilt.

Viola sat at the head of the table, her expression unreadable as if she went through a few reports from Ironhand’s ledgers.

But someone was missing.

Ludger noticed it immediately. “Where’s Luna?”

Viola didn’t look up. “She’s around.”

“‘Around’ meaning…?”

“Probably,” Viola said. “You know how she is.”

Ludger nodded. “Yeah. Subtle as always.”

Viola said, “Rathen will likely stay stationed near the bridge. He’ll have heard of our arrival by now.”

“Smart,” Arslan said. “Ironhand will behave as long as he’s watching.”

Viola nodded, then turned her gaze to Ludger. “What do you think of the bridge?”

Ludger glanced up from his plate. “What do you mean?”

“If you could build anything there,” she said, “how would you do it? What would make it last?”

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. The question wasn’t casual.

“The sahuagins are a problem,” he said finally. “They’re not random attacks—they’re drawn to the mana being used in the construction. The cores Ironhand’s trying to embed in the pillars are the source. They pulse like bait.”

He crossed his arms, expression hardening. “Even if I replaced their work with raw stone, I couldn’t make it last. My geomancy can harden rock well enough for fort walls or short-term defense, but not against constant pressure from the sea. Not for years.”

Viola tilted her head slightly. “But Gaius could.”

“Yeah,” Ludger said. “He can infuse permanence into the shaping. Probably sealing the mana inside the stone instead of letting it leak into the surroundings.”

Viola rested her chin on one hand. “So if he joined us…”

“Then the bridge could actually hold,” Ludger said. “Without attracting half the ocean to tear it apart.”

Kharnek grunted from the far end of the table. “You speak like the sea itself wants war.”

“It doesn’t,” Ludger said. “But if Ironhand keeps feeding it mana like that, it’ll get one anyway.”

A quiet fell over the table.

Arslan broke the silence with a low sigh. “Then we wait for Gaius. When he arrives, we rebuild the foundations our way—not Ironhand’s.”

Viola nodded once, decisive. “Agreed. I’ll stall the syndicate under the pretense of a resource audit. That buys us a few days.”

Ludger pushed his plate away, gaze distant toward the cliffs. “Good. Because the next time those things crawl out of the water, I don’t want to be patching someone else’s mistakes.”

The table chuckled quietly, and for a brief moment, the tension eased. But outside, the roar of the waves carried the same promise as always—something old, something angry, waiting just beyond sight.

And soon, Gaius would arrive. Then they’d see what the bridge—and the sea beneath it—were truly made of.

They were just finishing preparations to head back to the bridge site when the sound of approaching wheels broke the calm morning.

The courtyard outside the Hakuen manor filled with noise—hoofbeats, creaking wood, the low shouts of guards calling for space. Everyone turned toward the gate as a carriage rolled into view, its lacquered frame catching the sunlight.

The crest on its door was unmistakable: a silver falcon, the mark of House Hakuen.

Ludger felt his stomach tighten as the carriage came to a stop. Speak of the devil.

The door swung open, and a young man stepped down with the easy grace of someone used to being watched.

Lucius Hakuen.

It had been almost four years since Ludger had seen him—back during the youth tournament in Torvares territory, where Lucius had been more interested in showing his confident smile than actually fighting. The kid still carried that same sharp elegance, though time had softened him. His blond hair was tied back neatly now, his once-crisp uniform replaced by light traveling clothes.

But what stood out most was how relaxed he looked. His usual self-importance had been replaced with something closer to charm—or at least the performance of it.

He spread his arms wide, smiling as he approached. “So it’s true, then. The infamous Ludger has come to my shores. I had to see it for myself.”

Ludger tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. “Infamous, huh? You make it sound like I burned your manor down.”

Lucius laughed lightly. “Not yet, I hope.”

The Lionsguard and northerners gathered near the steps, watching in cautious silence. Viola stepped forward, calm but alert, while Arslan stood a few paces behind her, his expression unreadable.

Lucius’s gaze shifted—first brushing over Arslan, then Kharnek, then finally landing on Viola. And once it did, it stayed there.

“Lady Viola,” he said smoothly, his tone gaining a hint of reverence. “I must apologize for my absence yesterday. Affairs in the southern ports demanded my attention.”

“Your staff took good care of us,” Viola said evenly. “You left clear instructions.”

Lucius bowed slightly. “I trust they did not offend. I decided to return as soon as possible. And to find you here this early in the morning” His smile widened faintly. “It seems fortune favors the south today.”

Ludger exchanged a look with his father that said, I already hate him.

Lucius continued, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. “Tell me—does your presence mean that the Lionsguard has officially joined the project? That House Torvares will be overseeing construction alongside us?”

The courtyard went still for a moment.

Viola’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “That depends.”

“On?” Lucius prompted.

“On what we find,” she said. “We’ve begun our inspection of the bridge and Ironhand’s methods. Until we’re satisfied with their work, there’s no confirmation either way.”

Lucius’s polite smile flickered for just an instant before returning. “Of course,” he said, voice smooth again. “I only hope your findings will favor progress. The south has waited too long for this bridge.”

“Progress without stability collapses fast,” Arslan said quietly.

Lucius inclined his head with that practiced noble diplomacy that said I heard you but I don’t care. “Naturally. Still, I trust House Torvares and its… associates will bring the wisdom to ensure this venture succeeds.”

“Associates?” Ludger muttered under his breath. “He makes us sound like mercenaries. I guess we are”

Elaine’s lips twitched faintly. “Don’t pick a fight with him already.”

Lucius turned back to Viola, his tone almost light. “Well, I won’t keep you from your duties. But I do hope, Lady Viola, that you’ll honor my estate again tonight. We can discuss how to make this partnership… smoother.”

Viola’s expression didn’t change. “We’ll see.”

He bowed low, smiled a touch too long, and finally retreated toward the manor’s entrance, his guards moving to follow.

When he was out of earshot, Ludger exhaled and muttered, “Still the same pompous ass. Just better at hiding it.”

Viola didn’t disagree. “He’s cautious now. That’s worse.”

Arslan gave a quiet grunt. “Then we inspect the bridge before he has time to clean anything up.”

Ludger nodded, already tightening the straps on his travel cloak. “Fine by me. If Lucius is this eager for us to ‘partner,’ it’s because Ironhand’s hiding something big enough to scare him.”

The group mounted up, the sound of hooves and creaking leather filling the courtyard once more.

Behind them, the Hakuen crest fluttered on the manor gate—a silent reminder that even allies smiled with knives in hand.

The carriage rocked gently as it rolled down the coastal road, the morning sun spilling through the curtains. The sea glimmered outside—bright, almost blinding—and the rhythmic clatter of wheels over uneven stone filled the space.

Inside, it was oddly peaceful.

Ludger sat across from Viola, while Elaine occupied the seat beside her, a book open in her lap that she clearly wasn’t reading. Between them lay the twins—Arash and Elle—resting in a padded cradle that swayed with the movement of the cart.

At least, they were resting until Ludger leaned forward.

Two small heads turned at once.

Wide green eyes blinked up at him, curious, unblinking. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, both tiny hands reached upward, fingers twitching. Little noises followed—half squeals, half whimpers—insistent and strangely expectant.

Ludger froze. “…You’re kidding.”

Elaine glanced up from her book, one brow lifting. “They’ve been like that since we left the manor. I think they recognize you.”

“They’re not supposed to,” Ludger said, bewildered. “Babies this young can’t even see properly yet. Just shapes and shadows.”

“Perhaps,” Elaine said smoothly, “but they seem to recognize your shape quite well.”

Before he could argue, Elle started fussing louder, and Arash joined her in solidarity—two angry little fists flailing in his direction. Viola smirked.

“I think they want their not so smart big brother,” she said, tone dry.

“The irony is lost on you,” Ludger muttered, scooping Elle up first. She immediately latched onto his scarf, gripping it with surprising strength for someone barely able to lift her head.

Then it was Arash’s turn, the boy reaching forward until Ludger sighed and switched, passing his sister to Elaine and taking the other. Arash gurgled happily, grabbing a fistful of his sleeve.

“They do

remember,” Viola said softly, watching them.

Elaine smiled faintly without looking up. “Some bonds aren’t about memory.”

He blinked, glancing between the two tiny faces looking up at him with bright, wordless interest. The kind of trust that didn’t need to be earned.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

So he just sat there, holding them in turns as the carriage rocked and the sea wind slipped through the curtains.

Arash kept trying to chew on his glove; Elle wouldn’t let go of the green scarf.

“Guess I should’ve brought gifts,” he said under his breath.

“They seem content with you,” Viola said, voice teasing but gentle. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Elaine closed her book at last, smiling faintly. “Don’t worry. They’ll forgive you next time you vanish underground chasing criminals.”

Ludger sighed, leaning back in the seat. “That’s comforting.”

The twins cooed again, completely oblivious to the conversation, and the carriage rolled steadily onward toward the unfinished bridge—toward trouble.

For now, though, it was just him, his family, and the sound of the sea. The road back to the coast stretched long and sun-bleached, a winding ribbon of dirt that cut through the dunes and sloped toward the glimmering blue horizon. 

Three hours. That’s how long it took to reach the bridge again.

Three hours of creaking wagon axles, hot wind, and the occasional cry from one of the twins.

By the time they crested the final rise and saw the structure jutting from the surf, even Viola looked tired of the ride.

Ludger leaned his elbow against the carriage window, watching the distant cranes sway over the scaffolding. “If we have to go back and forth every day,” he said, “we’re going to waste more time traveling than working.”

Elaine looked up from rocking Elle in her arms. “You have a suggestion?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We build something near the bridge. A proper base—shelter, storage, quarters for everyone. It doesn’t have to be permanent, just enough to cut the travel time.”

Arslan, who was riding beside the carriage, turned in his saddle and raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“Everyone,” Ludger confirmed. “You, Viola, the Lionsguard, the northerners… Mom and the twins too. It’s safer than leaving them behind in an empty manor while we deal with Ironhand’s mess.”

Arslan snorted. “Interesting. I notice I wasn’t on the list of people you’re worried about.”

Ludger didn’t miss a beat. “You can take care of yourself, Dad. Have more faith on yourself”

“Flattery disguised as neglect,” Arslan muttered. “Truly, you’ve mastered diplomacy.”

Viola smirked faintly from her seat. “He gets that from you.”

Arslan sighed and gave up the argument, steering the horse closer to the road’s edge. “It’s a good idea,” he admitted after a moment. “A forward camp would make oversight easier. Ironhand can’t lie about progress if we’re watching every plank they place before we start working.”

Elaine nodded. “And if the bridge collapses, we’ll be close enough to see who’s responsible.”

That earned her a look from Arslan somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

Still, Ludger’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “It’ll work,” he said. “As long as the monsters stay quiet.”

Kharnek’s voice came from one of the wagons behind them, deep and steady. “And if they don’t?”

Ludger tapped his fingers against the window frame, thinking. “Then it becomes our problem. For now, they’re manageable. But if Ironhand keeps expanding the bridge and dumping mana into the water, it won’t stay that way.”

Arslan frowned. “You think they’ll start attacking further inland?”

“Eventually,” Ludger said. “If the bridge keeps attracting them like a beacon, they’ll follow the mana trail. And once they realize there’s more food than fear on shore…” He shrugged. “We’ll need something stronger than torches and flaming bolts.”

Viola’s eyes narrowed. “You have something in mind?”

“Not yet,” he said. 

The carriage creaked onward toward the beach, the sea wind thick with salt and the scent of wet iron.

Ludger glanced once more at the waves, watching the faint ripples that didn’t belong to the tide. For now, the sahuagins stayed hidden—but he could feel their presence below, or maybe it was his imagination.

“Manageable,” he murmured, half to himself. “Let’s keep it that way.”

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