The next day was supposed to be simple, routine, even.

Ludger was juggling two problems at once: the manual dilemma that refused to leave his head, and the recruits who were in the middle of their daily drills. Between correcting the kids’ stances, and mentally calculating how to convert theory into practice, his day was full enough.

Then he saw someone he hadn’t seen in months. A broad-shouldered man in worn armor was making his way across the training yard, his stride steady and formal even off duty. His presence carried that familiar quiet authority that made green recruits straighten their backs instinctively. Captain Darnell.

The man was supposed to be the official leader of Lionfang’s city guard. In practice, though, he had spent more time in the northerners’ camp lately, handling patrols, diplomacy, and keeping the rougher northerners in line. That had left most of the town’s order under the Lionsguard’s quiet management.

Ludger stopped his pacing as Darnell approached and gave him a crisp salute, like they were on a military parade ground.

Ludger just nodded. “Captain.”

“Vice Guildmaster,” Darnell greeted in his gravelly voice. His tone carried a mix of respect and awkwardness, like he wasn’t sure if the boy in front of him should be treated as a soldier or a commander.

“What brings you back to Lionfang?” Ludger asked.

Darnell hesitated for a heartbeat, then straightened his posture. “This isn’t a critique, sir,” he began carefully, “but I’ve been hearing some… complaints in town.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “Complaints?”

“Yes,” Darnell said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Apparently, there’s been a woman causing some problems lately. Loud, brash, draws attention wherever she goes. The merchants say she disrupts business, the guards say she distracts patrols, and a few of the wives have been saying she’s an ‘unholy menace to public decency.’”

Ludger’s expression didn’t change at first. Then it did, his hand slowly dragged down his face in the most exhausted facepalm the guild had seen that month.

Darnell blinked. “That bad, huh?”

Ludger lowered his hand, his voice flat as stone. “Let me guess. Wind mage. Cloak. Looks like she lost a fight with a tailor who hates fabric.”

Darnell coughed into his fist to hide a chuckle. “That would be the one.”

Of course it was.

Ludger sighed deeply, staring at the sky like he was asking the heavens why his life couldn’t stay normal for more than forty-eight hours. “Kaela.”

Darnell nodded grimly. “That’s the name being tossed around, yes. The townsfolk say she’s been making a scene in the markets—flirting with merchants, boasting about her magic, and—”

“I don’t need the details,” Ludger cut in. “Trust me, I already know what kind of disaster she is.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Lionsguard is

doing its job, Captain. Some problems just can’t be contained with regular patrols.”

Darnell raised an eyebrow. “Should I assume this particular problem falls under your personal jurisdiction, then?”

“Yes,” Ludger said with a long-suffering sigh. “And if you see her again, kindly pretend you didn’t.”

That got a rare grin from the captain. “Understood.”

Ludger didn’t even get a full minute of peace after Darnell left.

From the top of the training yard wall came a familiar, sing-song voice:

“Oh? I heard my name. Someone talking about me?”

Ludger froze mid-step, already knowing the exact flavor of chaos that voice carried. Slowly, he turned his head.

Kaela was perched on the wall again, one leg crossed over the other, cloak fluttering lightly in the breeze. She grinned down at them like a cat that had just wandered into a room full of mice.

Captain Darnell followed Ludger’s gaze, and his entire posture stiffened. One glance, just one, and the man seemed to instantly understand every word of the conversation that had just taken place.

“…I see,” Darnell muttered under his breath. “Say no more.”

He gave Ludger a half-sympathetic nod, the kind one veteran gives another when seeing them trapped in a hopeless battle, and quietly turned on his heel to leave.

Kaela waved cheerfully after him. “Nice armor, Captain! You ever need a breeze to cool off, I’m your girl! As long as you pay for the ale!”

Darnell didn’t even turn around. He just walked faster. Once the poor man was out of sight, Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kaela,” he said evenly, “I just got an earful from the guard captain. Apparently, you’ve been, how do I put this, causing problems around town.”

Kaela gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Me? Trouble? Impossible.”

“Sarcams isn’t even that good of a skill… People are complaining,” Ludger continued, voice flat. “Merchants, guards, families. I’m not asking you to change your personality, but I am asking if you plan to keep causing commotion for long.”

Kaela tilted her head. “Why? You planning to banish me or something?”

“No,” Ludger said, tone measured. “People can wear whatever they want. But you should at least be mindful of where you are. There are kids everywhere in Lionfang. Maybe try not to be… a walking distraction.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, studying him with mild curiosity. “You’re lecturing me about public decency now? You really do sound like your mother. I got an earful from her the other day… my ears are still ringing.”

Ludger’s expression didn’t even flicker. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Kaela sighed, dramatic as always. “Look, it’s not like I can afford new clothes. I’m broke. I spent every coin I had on taverns trying to make connections and ended up with, surprise, no connections and a hangover.”

“Shocking,” Ludger muttered.

She smiled innocently. “So… since we’re on the topic of finances, how about this, why don’t I teach you more about wind magic? You pay me a gold coin per lesson, and I promise to keep my brilliance confined to the training yard. Everyone wins.”

Ludger stared at her. “No.”

Kaela blinked. “No?”

“No,” Ludger repeated. “Absolutely not.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, then returned twice as wide. “You’re really going to turn down the chance to learn advanced wind techniques from a master?”

“From you? Yes.”

Kaela pouted, folding her arms. “Cold as ever, Vice Guildmaster.”

Ludger added the situation with Kaela to the mental list of problems already cluttering his mind. He could solve it easily, just buy her some decent clothes, and stop the rumors before they spread further.

But the thought alone made him wince. If he bought her new clothes, Kaela would never let him hear the end of it. She’d probably parade through town declaring that the Vice Guildmaster was trying to “reform her style.” And worse, if his mother found out… He didn’t even want to imagine that conversation.

So he filed the idea under temporary stalemate. For now, he’d just watch the wind mage and hope she didn’t set the market on fire or made people cause a bloodshed there, particularly the housewives.

He was still mulling over that headache when movement caught his eye at the edge of the courtyard, a courier, sprinting full speed toward the guild entrance. That alone wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was who it was.

The man was one of the elite messengers, rarely used except for emergencies. His light armor was built for mobility, and his form blurred slightly as he moved, his wind-aspected mana boosting every step. Ludger’s Seismic Sense barely even caught him; the man’s movements were that fast.

He had something strapped to his belt, a single scroll, sealed with the Torvares insignia and reinforced with a mana lock. Ludger’s brow furrowed. Scrolls like that weren’t rare, but that particular type of courier was only used for one thing: urgent messages meant to reach their destination immediately.

The courier didn’t linger long. He delivered the sealed scroll straight to Arslan’s office, saluted, and then stepped outside the guildhall to catch his breath—hands on knees, air gusting around him from the mana still burning in his lungs. The man was fast, but even he looked winded from whatever distance he’d crossed to bring that message.

Ten minutes later, Arslan emerged.

His steps were brisk, his expression serious, the kind of look Ludger had learned to recognize over the years. It wasn’t the face of a commander ready for battle; it was the one that came before it, the quiet tension before everything changed.

Arslan’s eyes immediately caught on Kaela, who was lounging on the wall again, watching the recruits spar. He raised an eyebrow. Kaela, halfway through waving cheerfully at him, froze mid-motion as a single name flashed in her mind. Elaine.

Her smile stiffened, and she slowly turned her head away, pretending to study a cloud like her life depended on it. Arslan smirked faintly but said nothing. He turned to his son instead.

“Ludger,” he said, his tone all business.

Ludger stepped forward. “What’s the message about?”

Arslan held up the opened scroll. “It’s from Lord Torvares. He received a notice from the capital.”

That alone made Ludger’s brow furrow. “From the capital? What kind of notice?”

Arslan’s expression hardened slightly. “A summons. The Empire wants to bring in the Lionsguard leadership, to negotiate a potential deal with the Velis League.”

That made Ludger’s eyebrows shoot up. “The Velis League?”

He knew the name well. The eastern lands beyond the mountain border, an alliance of city-academies built on runic craftsmanship, magical engineering, and ruthless independence. They were innovators, yes, but also opportunists. Their artificers produced machines that rivaled Imperial magic, and their runic engineers were said to weave enchantments into steel like poets weaving verse. But diplomacy? That was another matter entirely.

The Velis League rarely reached out to the Empire, never peacefully, at least. Their relationship had been defined by distrust and silent sabotage for decades. After all, the League and many of its neighbors had once been Imperial provinces before rebelling.

Ludger frowned, his mind already spinning through the implications. “That doesn’t make sense. The League and the Empire barely acknowledge each other’s borders. Why reach out now?”

Arslan folded his arms, the scroll still in hand. “That’s what Lord Torvares wants to find out. The summons are legitimate, Imperial seal and all. He’s already preparing to leave, and he expects us to send a representative.”

Ludger’s gaze drifted toward the horizon, his thoughts heavy. “A deal with the League…” He exhaled slowly. “That’s not a negotiation. That’s a warning dressed as politics.”

Arslan nodded once, quietly agreeing. “Exactly.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The sounds of training filled the background, children sparring, mana bolts echoing softly off stone, but the air felt heavier now.

Ludger finally looked back at his father. “When do we leave?”

Arslan didn’t answer right away. He stood there with the scroll in his hands, staring at the wax seal like it held more weight than gold.

A trip to the capital wasn’t impossible—weeks at most, not the months it had taken to build the southern bridge—but it came with its own set of problems. Leaving Lionfang so soon after stabilizing the town, the recruits, the shipments, the new mana core storage—it would throw the entire chain of command into disarray.

He finally exhaled through his nose. “If we both go, things will fall apart here,” he said quietly. “But if we ignore the summons, it’ll look like we’re defying the capital.”

Ludger nodded slowly, reading his father’s hesitation with ease. “Then I’ll go alone.”

Arslan’s gaze snapped up immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Ludger’s tone stayed calm. “I’m not a diplomat, but I can represent the Lionsguard. You’ll hold the guild together here, and I can travel faster without a convoy.”

“That’s exactly why it’s a bad idea,” Arslan said sharply. “You’d be traveling through Imperial territory without escort. No one knows what this meeting actually is, or who’s really behind it. You could walk straight into an ambush.”

Ludger met his father’s stare evenly. “You’re not wrong. But if we wait, the capital will send their own ‘representatives’ to speak for us. You know what that means.”

Arslan’s jaw tightened. He did know. If the Empire picked who spoke for the Lionsguard, they’d end up with some career bureaucrat twisting their words to fit Imperial interests. The silence stretched between them, heavy with mutual calculation.

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