The sun dipped low beyond the jagged outline of the mountains in the distance, painting the plains in muted orange and gray. The two carriages finally slowed to a stop near a stretch of open land surrounded by sparse trees and wind-flattened grass.

They’d been traveling for nearly a full day, and Ludger didn’t bother pretending he wanted to hunt for an inn in the next village. He stepped down from the carriage, rolled his shoulders once, and slammed his hand against the ground. The earth trembled, softly at first, then with steady precision as walls of packed stone rose from beneath the dirt like a fortress being unearthed. In less than a minute, a two-story shelter stood solid and complete, its smooth edges and carved windows glowing faintly with geomantic stability.

Kharnek let out a low whistle. “Still freaks me out when you do that, kid.”

“Cheaper than a tavern,” Ludger said, dusting his hands.

The Velis League envoys, Linne and Dalan, stepped closer, looking half impressed and half uneasy. They had traveled the whole day without guards, which Ludger found odd. They were either very confident in their runic tricks or had backup watching from the distance. But around the Lionsguard group, they seemed relaxed, too relaxed. Linne even hummed while examining the structure.

She circled the house once, pressing her gloved hand against the wall. The faint pulse of mana under the stone made her eyebrows lift. “This is… geomantic stabilization?” she asked, half to herself. “You shaped and compressed it directly from the ground?”

“Yeah,” Ludger said, already walking toward the entrance.

Dalan crouched near the foundation, squinting through his runic lenses. “If the density’s uniform, that would take precise control. But if it’s not…”

He turned to Linne. “It might collapse.”

She nodded gravely. “Yes. And if it collapses, the weight distribution would crush everything inside. A fast, messy death.”

Ludger stopped in the doorway, his jaw tightening. The vein on his forehead began to throb visibly. “It’s not going to collapse,” he said, each word clipped.

Linne gave him a disarming smile. “We were just discussing the structural risks of magical constructs, Vice Guildmaster. Nothing personal.”

“Sounds personal,” Ludger muttered, stepping inside.

Kaela followed, stifling a laugh. “If it does collapse, I’m haunting both of you,” she said cheerfully.

Dalan looked at her with mild alarm. “You sound disturbingly calm about that.”

“Occupational hazard,” she replied, closing the door behind her.

Inside, the shelter’s stone walls were smooth and cool, the air steady and fresh, no cracks, no leaks, no creaks. A compact hearth had already formed in the corner, flickering to life as Ludger snapped his fingers.

Linne lingered at the threshold, scanning the interior one more time. “Still,” she murmured to Dalan, “I don’t understand how he maintains mana flow across that much surface without runic anchors. The energy should bleed out.”

Dalan shrugged, jotting notes in his book. “Either he’s bluffing with brute mana control… or the Empire’s letting a genius rot in the frontier.”

From inside, Ludger’s voice carried out dryly, “If you’re going to gossip, at least do it somewhere the house can’t hear you.”

The two engineers froze. Kharnek’s laugh boomed loud enough to shake the windows. “Told you! Don’t poke the geomancer.”

As dusk settled, the faint hum of runes and the low crackle of fire filled the open air. The camp had come alive with quiet, methodical movement.

Kaela stood a short distance from the stone shelter, eyes half-lidded as faint ribbons of wind coiled around her hands. Each gust carried fragments of sound and scent, the tremor of movement in the tall grass, the quick flutter of small wings. With a snap of her fingers, the air rippled outward. A few minutes later, the sound of her boots crunching over dirt returned, and she tossed a pair of rabbits and a wild fowl onto a nearby log.

“Dinner,” she said casually, brushing her hands off. “They were hiding downwind. Not smart.”

Kharnek, on the other hand, had decided that chopping trees was a matter of principle rather than necessity. His axe swung in wide, brutal arcs, each strike splitting logs with a thunderous crack that echoed through the plains. He was humming, no, singing. something deep and old, a northerner working song, its rhythm somewhere between a war chant and a drinking tune.

“Isn’t that a bit too much wood?” Kaela asked, watching as he stacked another log as tall as herself.

Kharnek grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Wood warms twice. Once when you chop it, once when you burn it.” Then he split another log with unnecessary force.

Maurien stood quietly by the tethered horses, cloak fluttering in the evening breeze. He fed them dried oats from a pouch while tracing faint glyphs in the air, small spells to keep the beasts calm and rested. Every so often, he glanced toward the treeline, eyes half-narrowed, as though searching for threats that hadn’t yet shown themselves.

Meanwhile, Ludger crouched near the edge of camp, palms pressed to the dirt. The ground rumbled softly, the vibrations spreading outward in an even pulse. He was flattening the terrain, pushing down roots, smoothing uneven stones, compacting loose soil, turning wild field into something level and solid enough for comfort. When he was done, the camp looked like it had been planned, not improvised.

The two Velis League engineers, Linne and Dalan, stood side by side, watching the whole operation unfold like an open-air workshop demonstration. Linne folded her arms, voice low but tinged with curiosity. “They really are… diverse.”

Dalan nodded. “A geomancer, a northern warrior, a bandit-hunting archmage, and a wind mage with no discipline. Not exactly a uniform company.”

Kaela shot him a side glance. “Excuse me?”

He lifted his hands. “Just an observation.”

Kharnek chuckled as he tossed another log onto the pile. “Observation’s right. That’s the Lionsguard, one big mix of troublemakers who somehow get the job done.”

Ludger looked up from his work, expression dry. “You’re not wrong.”

Linne studied him closely, her tone thoughtful. “And yet, it works. No chain of command… no visible order… but everything still moves.”

Maurien gave a tired smile, voice rough but calm. “That’s the trick. Chaos under control. The Lionsguard way.”

As night deepened, Kaela’s wind stirred embers into steady flame, and the scent of roasting meat filled the camp. The two League engineers exchanged another quiet glance, half admiration, half unease. For a mercenary guild, the Lionsguard looked more like a small, self-sufficient army.

The fire crackled softly, the smell of roasting rabbit and fowl mixing with the faint metallic scent of mana still lingering in the air. Kaela was crouched near the fire, turning the spit lazily while Kharnek leaned back against one of his chopped logs, arms crossed, face flushed from both drink and effort. Ludger wondered where he was hiding booze enough to last the whole trip, but he didn’t bother to ask. The rhythmic hum of his half-forgotten tune had quieted, replaced by the low murmur of conversation.

Across the fire, Linne and Dalan were observing him with thinly veiled curiosity. Their plates sat untouched in their laps, eyes tracing the broad-shouldered northerner like they were dissecting some new species.

Finally, Kharnek grunted without looking up. “You two plan to stare all night, or are you trying to learn how to swing an axe?”

Linne blinked, caught off guard. “Apologies. It’s just… we’ve heard of your kind beyond the Empire. Northerners. But we’ve never actually seen one.”

Kharnek smirked, a flash of white teeth under his beard. “’Heard of our kind,’ huh? Sounds like you’re talking about snow bears.”

Dalan adjusted his glasses, looking unbothered. “You’re not that far off. The records describe your people as large, enduring, and… temperamentally straightforward.”

Kaela snorted. “That’s a polite way of saying hot-headed.”

Kharnek took a long drink from his flask before answering. “Straightforward, eh? That’s a fancy word for honest. We fight, we drink, we build our homes where others freeze to death. If that’s all your ‘records’ say, they’re missing the fun parts.”

Linne tilted her head, intrigued. “And you’ve never been beyond the Empire’s borders before?”

Kharnek’s grin widened, and he jabbed a thumb toward the mountains looming faintly in the distance. “ I’ve never heard of the Velis League until this little trip, and I’ve never seen anyone from beyond the Empire either. Guess we’re both seeing curiosities tonight.”

Dalan chuckled softly, though there was something calculating in his tone. “Then you must be quite proud, being the first northerner to cross two imperial borders.”

Kharnek lifted his flask in mock salute. “Proud? Maybe. Depends if I survive long enough to brag about it back home.”

Linne exchanged a glance with Dalan. “A practical philosophy,” she said. “I see why the Lionsguard keeps you.”

Kharnek gave a booming laugh that echoed through the camp. “They don’t keep me. Nobody keeps a northerner. I just stick around ‘cause it’s more fun than sitting on a pile of ice. Plus the kid has some interesting ideas.”

Ludger, who had been quietly cleaning his gauntlet nearby, didn’t look up. “That’s not untrue.”

The fire popped. Kaela turned one of the spits, sending a fresh wave of rich aroma into the air. The two engineers continued their quiet study of the northerner, but the glint in their eyes had changed, less scientific now, and more cautious respect.

For the first time, they realized that beyond the Empire’s reach and the League’s machines, there were people like Kharnek—living proof that strength didn’t always come from runes, empires, or titles. Sometimes, it comes from the cold.

When the fire had burned down to a mellow orange glow, Dalan reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a thick, rune-stitched map. He spread it open on a flat rock, the parchment gleaming faintly under the fire-light flickering above their camp.

“This,” he said, tapping a line that twisted along the eastern border, “is the official route to the Velis League. We’ll need to circle around the western mountain chain and follow the trade road along the closest river. It’s longer, but it’s safe.”

Ludger leaned over the map, his eyes scanning the path in silence. The inked line snaked around the base of the mountains in a lazy arc that nearly doubled their travel time. He frowned. “That’s not a route, it’s a detour. We’ll lose at least four days this way.”

Dalan gave a small, helpless shrug. “It can’t be helped. No carriage can move through those slopes. The terrain’s too rough, sharp stone ridges, sink cracks, and unstable layers. Even the League’s vehicles would break their axles trying to pass directly through.”

Ludger leaned back, gaze sharpening. “What if the terrain wasn’t that rough?”

The two engineers blinked. Linne looked at Dalan, then back at Ludger. “What exactly do you mean?”

Ludger’s tone stayed level. “If the ground was flattened, reinforced, maybe bridged where necessary, could your machine handle it?”

Dalan hesitated, then looked toward their mana-powered carriage parked a few meters away. Its wheels still glowed faintly, humming with the quiet pulse of residual energy. “It’s strong enough to climb shallow grades and push through loose soil. But not cliffs or unstable stone.”

Kaela smirked, lounging near the fire. “He’s not asking about cliffs. He’s offering to fix the ground.”

The two engineers exchanged another long look, realization dawning. Linne’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean… you’d reshape the terrain itself?”

Ludger shrugged like it was nothing. “A few hours of work. A stable trail through the base of the range. If you’ve got the power to pull both carriages, I’ll make sure there’s a road to pull them on.”

For a moment, neither engineer spoke. The crackling of the fire and Kharnek’s low humming filled the silence. Then Dalan chuckled under his breath. “Unbelievable. You make it sound like building a mountain road overnight is a casual favor.”

Ludger gave a faint half-smile. “It is if you know how to dig straight.”

Linne’s analytical curiosity flared again. “If you can really do that, Vice Guildmaster, then we can modify our engine. A few recalibrations, some additional stabilizers, maybe a pressure rune layer. It might just have enough power to haul both carriages through your… handmade pass.”

Kaela laughed softly. “Look at that. The geniuses from the Velis League are starting to like our boy.”

Linne folded the map and gave Ludger a more measured, almost respectful look. “You’re unconventional, Vice Guildmaster. But I think traveling with you might turn out to be far more productive than we expected.”

Dalan nodded, his tone thoughtful. “Yes… perhaps even profitable.”

Ludger didn’t respond right away. He was already studying the dark outline of the mountains against the night sky, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Then tomorrow,” he said finally, “we make our own road.”

The engineers exchanged another glance, half excitement, half disbelief. They’d started the day thinking they were traveling with mercenaries. Now, they were starting to realize they might be crossing the border with a walking construction miracle.

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