Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if a thread of thought had pulled taut in his mind. “Wait…”

Arslan raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“There’s someone else who’s already investigating the ties between the Empire and the Velis League,” Ludger said. “Someone who will be of use if something happens..”

Arslan frowned. “Who?”

“Maurien,” Ludger replied. “The Lone Terror. He’s been tracking bandit routes and trade channels connected to the League’s smuggling networks for months now. He knows their patterns better than anyone.”

Recognition flickered across Arslan’s face. “Your old magic teacher.”

Ludger nodded. “He’s not a politician either, but he’s got more experience than most of the ones pretending to be. And if this summons is a trap, he’s one of the few people who could cover for me.”

Arslan leaned back slightly, weighing the idea. “You really think he’d agree?”

“He doesn’t owe the Empire anything,” Ludger said simply. “But he hates their games. If this negotiation’s tied to whatever’s been moving under the surface between them and the League, he’ll want to see it firsthand. We can also use it as a clue to find answers to the other incidents.”

For a long moment, Arslan said nothing. Then he gave a quiet sigh. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

“Someone has to move while everyone else hesitates,” Ludger replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Arslan studied his son, the calm, the focus, the same dangerous resolve that reminded him too much of himself at that age, and finally nodded. “Alright. But you don’t leave without contacting everyone first. It might be better for you to have some other people backing you up..”

“Understood,” Ludger said.

As Arslan turned to head back to his office, the tension in his shoulders was still there, but lighter now, like he trusted the decision even if he didn’t like it.

Ludger looked toward the open gates of Lionfang, the faint mountain haze in the distance marking the road eastward.

Maurien would be somewhere out there, hunting shadows, chasing the truth in the cracks between nations. If the Empire and the Velis League were truly making moves together, then whatever lay ahead wasn’t just politics. It was the start of something deeper.

Ludger stayed behind in the courtyard long after Arslan left, staring at the faint mountain haze that framed the horizon. The evening air carried the scent of dust and iron from the training grounds, but his thoughts were already miles away — tracing lines of politics and trade routes that stretched far beyond Lionfang.

The summons made too much sense in all the wrong ways.

The Empire… negotiating with the Velis League.

He could almost see the pieces moving behind the curtain,  whispers about froststeel shipments, the mana cores from the southern bridge, and the Lionsguard’s sudden rise in influence. Ever since their founding, Lionfang had grown from a battered border town into a functioning hub of trade and magic. Too fast, too well.

And that kind of success always attracted eyes. He exhaled quietly. “So it’s about the froststeel,” he muttered. “And the cores.”

Those two resources alone could fuel entire cities, arm legions, or power forbidden research if handled wrong. And both were tied to one man, Lord Torvares. The old grumpy had taken risks protecting the Lionsguard’s independence, even shielding Ludger’s operations from the capital’s scrutiny. But that protection also meant Torvares was now entangled in whatever the Empire wanted from the League.

This wasn’t just a diplomatic meeting. It was a test. If the Lionsguard handled this poorly, they’d either become a convenient scapegoat… or a leash. Ludger rubbed his chin, thinking it through. “I’ll need to make sure Torvares isn’t walking into that room alone.”

Viola came to mind, sharp, bold, relatively politically educated. She’d inherited her grandfather’s cunning, and his hot temper, alongside Arslan. She could handle negotiations, yes… but not the vultures that prowled the capital halls. The noble families there didn’t play fair. They didn’t duel with swords or spells, they gutted reputations and used etiquette as a weapon.

She’d need someone beside her who saw through that.

Still, he couldn’t just waltz into the capital as a eleven-year-old vice guildmaster and expect anyone to take him seriously, not without leverage. And that’s when another possibility crossed his mind. Gaius.

The old earth mage, his mentor, and one of the few people who could silence an Imperial room just by existing. If Ludger arrived alongside both Maurien and Gaius, two high-tier mages from different schools, it would make an impression. A clear reminder that the Lionsguard wasn’t a band of lucky frontier adventurers, but an organization backed by the kind of talent the Empire couldn’t easily replace or intimidate.

But the thought didn’t sit quite right. He’d already made Gaius work with him for half a year straight during the bridge and labyrinth projects. The man had earned his rest, and more importantly, he wasn’t part of the guild’s formal structure. Calling him back into political dealings would be asking for another favor Ludger hadn’t earned yet. He sighed, folding his arms as the wind brushed past.

“Too many options,” he murmured. “Not enough guarantees.”

The best move would be to contact Maurien first, confirm his position, then reach out to Torvares directly through Yvar’s channels. He’d need to know exactly what the capital wanted before walking into that nest of courtiers. For now, though, all he could do was prepare.

Lionfang’s future, and the balance between the Empire, Torvares, and the League, was about to tilt again. And Ludger intended to make sure it didn’t tilt against them.

When Ludger returned home that night, the air already felt heavier. Elaine was in the kitchen, calmly stirring a pot of stew, the faint scent of herbs and roasted meat drifting through the house. She didn’t turn when he stepped inside, she didn’t have to.

She always knew. Without looking up, she said quietly, “Something’s happening, isn’t it?”

Ludger paused in the doorway. “You could say that.”

Elaine finally turned, ladle still in hand, her expression calm but sharp, the kind of look that had once made grown soldiers flinch. “When do you leave?”

He hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. “…Soon.”

“And when will you return?”

He gave a faint, crooked smile, the kind that wasn’t really an answer at all. “Depends on how cooperative the capital decides to be.”

Elaine studied his face for a moment longer. Her eyes softened, but only a little. “That’s what I thought.”

Ludger rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just a negotiation, nothing dangerous—”

She raised an eyebrow, and he stopped mid-sentence. They both knew that was a lie.

After a moment of silence, Elaine set the ladle down. “You’ve grown into your father’s habits,” she murmured. “Always trying to protect everyone by keeping the details to yourself.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Just… promise me one thing,” she said, walking closer. “Don’t take unnecessary risks. I don’t care if it’s politics or monsters, if something feels wrong, walk away.”

Ludger nodded once. “I’ll try.”

Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You never do. But it’s nice to hear it anyway.”

Ludger let out a quiet chuckle — tired, but genuine. Then, as he moved to wash his hands for dinner, she added softly, “We’ll be fine here. The town’s stable, the recruits are learning, and your father can handle a few weeks without burning the place down.”

“Optimistic,” he said dryly.

Elaine’s smile widened slightly. “Faith, Ludger. I like to think I taught you that, too.”

He didn’t answer, just kept that faint, forced smile on his face as he sat down at the table. Because deep down, they both knew the truth. He wasn’t sure when he’d be back.

By dawn the next morning, Ludger was already prepared to leave. His travel pack was light but efficient—rations, mana stones, a few maps, and the sealed copy of the summons from Lord Torvares. The air in Lionfang was still cool, the mist just beginning to lift from the rooftops when he gathered everyone in the training yard for one last meeting.

The recruits stood in a line, their postures straight but their eyes uneasy. They’d all heard the rumors by now, that something big was stirring beyond the mountains, and that their Vice Guildmaster was heading out to face it.

Ludger looked them over once before speaking, his tone calm and steady. “I’ll be gone for a while. During that time, you’ll be under the supervision of Yvar.” The scholar raised a hand slightly, looking both honored and exhausted.

“He may not use magic,” Ludger continued, “but his word carries the same weight as mine or the Guildmaster’s. If he gives you an order, you follow it. Understood?”

The kids nodded immediately, their voices overlapping. “Yes, sir!”

Ludger gave a small nod in return. “Good.”

Then he gestured toward the far end of the yard, where several stone blocks stood neatly arranged. Carved into their smooth surfaces were lines of text and diagrams, his handwriting etched into the stone itself by geomancy.

“Your next lessons are already prepared,” Ludger said. “You’ll train in three new skills while I’m gone.”

He pointed to the first block.

“Mana Wall. Defense. Use your mana to reinforce your surroundings and protect others, not just yourself.”

Then the second.

“Spiritual Core. This one’s more advanced. It’ll increase your mana capacity and regeneration. Don’t rush it, it’s about discipline, not strength.”

Finally, the third.

“Healing Touch. You’ll learn the basics of restoring vitality through controlled mana flow. It’s the most difficult one to master, but it’s also the one that’ll save the most lives. Learn each of them per month and when I return, you will be recognized members of the guild where everyone will respect.”

The kids’ eyes widened, a mix of awe and nervous excitement flashing across their faces.

Yvar stepped closer, studying the carved symbols on the stone with a deep frown. He squinted at the diagrams, muttering to himself before admitting, “I… understand maybe one out of five sentences of this.”

Ludger smirked faintly. “You don’t need to understand it. You just need to make sure they don’t do anything reckless.”

Yvar gave him a flat look. “Reckless? They’re children, Ludger. The definition of reckless.”

“Then call Cor,” Ludger said simply. “He’ll make sure they don’t blow up the guild.”

Yvar groaned, but nodded. “Fine. Maybe the kids will learn fear before pride this time.”

Ludger chuckled softly, the sound brief but genuine.

Then, as he turned to leave, the recruits saluted him, awkward but heartfelt.

“Good luck, Vice Guildmaster!” one of them called.

“Bring us souvenirs!” another shouted, earning a glare from Yvar.

Ludger waved once without looking back. “Train hard. Don’t disappoint me.”

As he walked through the guild gates, the morning light broke fully across Lionfang, illuminating the carved lessons behind him, the foundation of what he hoped would become the next generation of the Lionsguard.

Behind him, Yvar sighed deeply, muttering, “He makes it sound so easy…”

And the kids? They just smiled, already running toward the stone blocks, ready to chase the footsteps their teacher had left behind.

When Ludger stepped out of the guild’s front doors, he was already planning his route — on foot, fast, and quiet. The kind of trip where he could move at his own pace, think clearly, and avoid unnecessary company.

So when he saw the wagon waiting outside, horses already hitched and supplies packed, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“…Of course,” he muttered. “Why would anything ever go smoothly?”

The wagon wasn’t just a simple merchant cart. Reinforced wheels, rune-etched axles, and a Lionsguard crest on the canvas — it was clearly meant for an official delegation. Which meant he wasn’t going alone.

The first figure he spotted leaning against the wagon was massive.

“Kharnek,” Ludger said, already knowing that grin anywhere.

The northerner chief crossed his arms, his bear-hide cloak shifting as he laughed. “The first northerner to ever step inside the Imperial Capital! You think I’d miss that? Not a chance.”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. “You do realize this is a political meeting, not a battlefield, right?”

Kharnek grinned wider. “Politics is a battlefield, lad — just with duller weapons and louder idiots.”

Before Ludger could answer, another voice chimed in — lower, more uneasy.

“Don’t remind me…”

Captain Darnell was standing by the wagon’s rear, double-checking a stack of travel permits with the look of a man who’d rather be anywhere else. His armor was polished, but his expression screamed stress.

“I still don’t understand how I got dragged into this,” Darnell said. “I’m supposed to be keeping order here, not babysitting a diplomatic circus.”

“Congratulations,” Ludger said dryly. “You’ve just been promoted.”

Darnell sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

And then — because the world clearly enjoyed testing his patience, a familiar voice joined the mix.

“Well, isn’t this cozy.”

Ludger turned just in time to see Kaela approaching. For once, she wasn’t wearing her usual scandalous excuse for armor. Instead, she had on proper travel gear, light leather coat, boots, and a long green cloak that actually covered her shoulders. She even looked… almost respectable. Almost.

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