As they walked deeper into Veyra, Ludger’s mind catalogued every pattern, every enchantment, every misplaced rune glowing faintly on the walls. He didn’t say it aloud, but the truth was clear in his expression—the League’s progress impressed him, even if the smell of mana smoke and hot metal made him feel like he was standing inside a forge that never cooled.

By the time the sun began dipping low behind the copper-lined roofs, Dalan exhaled and said, “It’s a bit early, but we should find an inn and rest. We’ll make better time if we leave at first light tomorrow.”

Ludger nodded, scanning the crowded avenue ahead. “Fine. But tell me, will it be all right for us to stay here? Don’t academy cities like this have… rivalries?”

Dalan chuckled. “They do. Every city swears their theories are the pinnacle of enlightenment and everyone else’s are a century behind. But it’s not the sort of rivalry that spills blood. They won’t do anything stupid, we’re scholars, not barbarians.”

Ludger gave a small grunt of acknowledgment, though his eyes stayed wary. “If you say so.”

The streets grew busier as they moved closer to the inner district. Runic streetlamps buzzed faintly, casting spirals of soft green light onto the cobblestones. Vendors sold charms that made quills write faster, belts that stored extra stamina, even shoes that whispered the wearer’s steps to avoid disturbing the scholars. Despite the convenience everywhere, Ludger couldn’t shake the faint discomfort under his skin.

It wasn’t the noise. It was the air. The smell of mana residue was sharper here, acrid, metallic. The hum of power lines running through the stone beneath his boots vibrated faintly up his legs. Every invention was burning something, even if it wasn’t coal or wood. Still, what truly caught his attention were the people.

At first, he barely noticed them among the crowd, workers unloading cargo, shop assistants sweeping steps, messengers carrying scrolls sealed with wax. But then, under the steady glow of a rune lamp, Ludger saw the faint shimmer of silver inscriptions etched around a man’s neck. Another across the street had the same, glowing rings of containment runes linked by thin chains of light.

Collars. Runic ones.They weren’t decorative. They pulsed faintly with control glyphs binding marks that carried obedience effects. Slave collars.

The two collared workers didn’t look beaten or terrified, they just looked empty. One was carrying crates into a rune shop while the other was repairing a mana conduit under the guidance of a bored apprentice who didn’t even glance at him.

Kaela noticed the tension in Ludger’s jaw. “Something wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I thought the League prided itself on progress,” he muttered finally.

Dalan followed his gaze, his face tightening just a fraction. “Ah. That…” He hesitated, then sighed. “Yes, some League cities use bonded labor. Convicts, debtors, technically not slaves, but the difference doesn’t comfort anyone with a conscience.”

Linne crossed her arms, her tone defensive but quiet. “Ours doesn’t. Not anymore. Those collars are outlawed in the central academies. Here on the border… traditions die slower.”

Ludger kept walking, expression unreadable. “Traditions. Right.”

He didn’t press further. But the faint grinding of his teeth said enough. The so-called bastion of knowledge and progress had just shown him its chains.

After dinner, the group retired early to their rooms. The inn was clean enough, though the faint buzz of nearby rune generators made the walls hum like a living thing. Ludger sat by the window for a long while, staring out at the dim glow of the city’s runic lines tracing across the streets below like veins of blue fire. The world outside never truly slept, someone was always hammering, chanting, or testing a prototype that hissed and sparked in the distance.

Eventually, he stood, buttoned up his coat, and stepped into the hallway. The floorboards creaked softly under his boots as he stopped in front of Kaela’s door and knocked twice.

The door cracked open a few seconds later, revealing Kaela in her usual teasing smile, one shoulder lazily leaning on the frame. “Vice Guildmaster,” she said with exaggerated formality, “to what do I owe the honor of a late-night visit? Don’t tell me you’ve—”

“Did you pick up anything?” Ludger interrupted flatly.

Kaela blinked, thrown off balance for once. “Pick up what?”

“With your wind magic,” he clarified, lowering his voice. “Any whispers. Any disturbances. Anything… strange.”

She let out a small sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. “The air’s too dense here,” she admitted. “Smells like burnt copper and mana fumes. It interferes with the flow, half my reach is gone, maybe worse. The runes everywhere make the wind… stiff, if that makes sense.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, testing his expression. “Why? Expecting trouble already?”

“I just want to know if anything weird stirs,” Ludger said. His tone stayed level, but his gaze was sharp. “If you catch even a hint, tell me first.”

Kaela smirked faintly. “You want me to be your early-warning system now?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

She paused, tilting her head. Then, with a soft shrug, she said, “All right. No weird breezes, no ghost voices. If something moves, I’ll know.”

“Good.” Ludger nodded once, already turning away.

As he walked back to his room, Kaela leaned on her doorway, watching his back disappear down the hall. “You really are all business, huh…” she murmured, half to herself, before closing the door.

Ludger returned to his room, shut the window, and sat on his bed again. The hum of the city filled the silence. Between the polluted air, the collars, and the whisper of unseen runes, the entire place felt wrong

to him, but at least someone would be listening to the wind while he slept.

Lying in bed, Ludger couldn’t fall asleep right away. The low hum of the city’s runic grid seeped through the walls, making it feel as if the whole building was breathing. He turned on his side and stared at the faint light leaking through the curtains, blue runelight, pulsing steady like a heartbeat.

The people here were… different.

He’d known that the Velis League and the Empire had once belonged to the same continental cluster centuries ago, fractured provinces that grew into separate nations. Still, he hadn’t expected the divide to feel this wide. Speech patterns were sharper, their gestures more abrupt, even their way of walking, like everyone here was balancing the hum of magic under their feet.

And their appearance… Even through the constant mist and heavy clouds, most of the locals had tanned or darker skin, the kind you’d expect under a blazing sun. At first, it didn’t make sense. Then Ludger thought about the endless rows of furnaces, smelters, and forge-chambers they’d passed, the glowing runes keeping heat flowing through entire districts day and night.

If you grew up surrounded by that kind of heat, by that constant fire, you’d adapt. He remembered seeing a line of children running through the steam of a public heating vent earlier that day, their laughter echoing between iron pipes and glowing sigils. Beneath the haze, this city lived like a massive forge, hot, alive, and indifferent.

Ludger exhaled slowly, his eyes half-closing. “So that’s what happens when a nation lives in the fire,” he murmured to himself. “They learn to burn brighter.”

The differences between the Velis League and the Empire ran deeper than language or fashion. He had assumed that after a few hundred years, the old fractures of the past would’ve smoothed over. They all came from the same imperial cluster, after all, once the same vast nation that had swallowed every border it saw.

But now, seeing these people, how they lived, how they thought, he understood. Maybe it made sense. When the Empire shattered centuries ago, the pieces didn’t just drift apart. Each fragment evolved to survive on its own terms.

The League, especially, had rebuilt itself from exiles, inventors, and dissenters, people who once lived under Imperial rule but refused to stay chained to it. The moment they broke away, they didn’t just reject the Empire’s crown. They rejected its entire way of life.

The Empire still believed in hierarchy, bloodlines, and training the body to serve the state. Here, in the League, strength meant imagination, the ability to bend magic, metal, and logic to one’s will.

It showed in everything. The average imperial learned how to hold a sword steady. The average League citizen learned how to make a sword float with runes.

And that, Ludger thought grimly, was why the Empire had begun to rot while the League thrived in steam and innovation. They’d traded muscle for intellect, sweat for spark.

Maybe that was what happened when an empire fell apart, you didn’t just lose land or people. You lost the balance that made you whole.

He turned onto his side and closed his eyes, but the image of the collared workers flashed in his mind again. No matter how advanced they were, people here still found ways to chain others. Intelligence didn’t erase cruelty, it just gave it prettier tools.

Ludger exhaled slowly.  “Brains over brawn,” he murmured to himself. “Let’s see where that takes them.”

And with that, he let the hum of runes lull him into an uneasy sleep.

Despite Ludger’s lingering unease, nothing happened in Veyra. No spies, no ambushes, no unexpected visitors in the night. Just noise, steam, and the soft mechanical groan of a city that never truly slept.

So when their stay ended without incident, the group departed early the next morning, heading deeper into the Velis League’s heartland. The further east they traveled, the more the land changed, less forest, more stone and metal, until even the soil felt faintly warm from the runic veins pulsing beneath it.

By the time they arrived at Linne and Dalan’s base, Ludger could tell this wasn’t an ordinary place.

The air here was cleaner, but still carried that strange metallic tang he’d started to associate with the League. The constant mist hung over the valley like a veil, swirling around the tall iron towers that rose from the earth like spears. Beyond them, pipes and conduits ran in every direction, across the ground, along walls, even arched above the roads.

And everywhere, there was movement. The heavy, rhythmic thud of metal feet echoed from multiple directions. Ludger slowed his pace as a shadow passed in front of them, a runic golem, easily three meters tall, with a glowing blue sigil carved into its chest. Its stone arms moved with eerie precision, lifting an iron crate that would’ve crushed a wagon horse. Another trudged past, dragging a loaded cart behind it, glowing chains of mana wrapped around the harness like reins of light.

More followed. A dozen, maybe more, all working in perfect synchronization. Some loaded materials into open furnaces, others moved parts between forges and smelters, the hum of enchantments keeping them in motion.

Kaela whistled low. “So… this is where your League gets its reputation for playing with toys.”

Dalan smiled faintly, his voice carrying a note of pride. “Not toys. Just craftsmen who stopped waiting for miracles.”

Ludger frowned, studying the runes etched into the golems’ cores. The patterns were tight, efficient, and layered, each sigil amplifying another. Not crude copies like the ones he’d seen on the smugglers’ constructs in the eastern mountains. These were refined.

“Controlled constructs…” Ludger muttered. “Not independent like dungeon guardians. But complex enough to think within their commands.”

Kharnek crossed his arms, brow furrowed. “Machines carrying their masters’ loads. Hmph. Don’t see the honor in that.”

Maurien’s eyes, however, were sharp with interest. “No honor,” he said, “but plenty of power. The kind that doesn’t bleed when the wars come.”

Linne turned back with a small smile. “Welcome to Coria Academy City, gentlemen, the place where we make the impossible useful.”

Ludger said nothing. His eyes followed the nearest golem as it passed, its glowing eyes flickering like twin lanterns in the mist. The sight wasn’t comforting. It was efficient, yes, but unsettling in its precision.

If this was what the League could build, then their ambitions reached far beyond trade. And Ludger had a feeling this was only the surface.

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