Rufas didn’t linger after giving his report. Before leaving, he turned back one last time and granted the Lionsguard full permission to leave the capital whenever they wished, the kind of official clearance that would prevent any noble or patrol from interfering. It was a generous gesture, too generous, given the chaos, but Ludger didn’t take advantage of it.

Instead, he told everyone they would remain in the capital for a few more days.

Part of it was recovery. Everyone had been stretched thin, physically, mentally, politically. The recruits were still shaken from their arrest, Viola was overseeing a dozen political fires, Maurien hadn’t slept properly in days, and even Gaius looked like he needed a moment to breathe. Staying put would give the entire group some time to settle their nerves.

Another part of it was caution. Ludger wanted to hear news, any news, about the fugitives. A trail. A whisper. A hint that Verk or the Rodericks had been spotted. But none came.

Not a rumor, not a suspicious sighting, not a single damaged carriage leaving the capital in the dead of night. The Empire’s information network was one of the best in the world, yet it had turned up exactly nothing. Days passed quietly, and Ludger refused to waste the time.

If the Lionsguard was going to be dragged into political warfare, then they needed more than tunnels and allies, they needed presence. Influence. A foothold in the capital that didn’t rely solely on the Torvares family. So Ludger began scouting properties.

He wasn’t looking for a mansion or some noble estate, just a small commercial space that could serve as a Lionsguard outpost and cover. A shop front. A forge. A supply point. Anything that gave them a place to operate discreetly in the heart of the Empire.

The problem was that this was the capital. Affordable property didn’t exist.

Every building they inspected was either too expensive, too run-down, or “historically significant” enough that the owners charged absurd prices. More than once, the real estate agents seemed genuinely intimidated by Ludger, who, despite trying to be polite, radiated the kind of energy that made people instinctively take a step back.

The recruits who accompanied him, Derrin, Mira, and Rhea, watched the entire ordeal with growing dismay. Mira struggled to hide her shock at the prices, Derrin mumbled about how a whole district of Lionfang cost less than a single storefront here, and Rhea suggested knocking down a wall in one abandoned building to reduce the “renovation fee.”

By sunset, Ludger stood outside yet another overpriced shop and rubbed his temples. The options existed, but none were ideal, and every single one drained money like a wounded ox. Still, he didn’t give up.

He couldn’t afford to. The storm around the Empire was only getting darker, and if the Lionsguard wanted to survive what was coming, they needed more than strength.

They needed more roots,  right here, in the capital, before the enemy struck again.

Ludger eventually found a shop he could tolerate, small, sturdy, tucked between two larger buildings, and close enough to a main street to attract attention without drawing crowds. The owner quoted the price with a nervous stutter:

“Ten… ten diamond coins.”

Derrin almost swallowed his tongue. Mira’s jaw dropped. Rhea looked like she’d been stabbed in the wallet. Ludger didn’t blink.

He pulled out ten diamond coins and set them on the counter with the same expression he used when setting down a cup of tea. The coins clinked lightly, glowing with that unmistakable brilliance that only the extremely wealthy, or extremely dangerous, held so casually. The shopkeeper almost fainted, his dream was finally coming true. The recruits definitely swayed. Diamond coins weren’t just money. They were life-changing.

Ten diamond coins could buy a comfortable home in the countryside, fund a business, or allow someone to retire early and never work another day. Ludger’s recruits earned a respectable ten silver coins per day transporting froststeel and mana cores, and even with labyrinth runs, none of them had come anywhere close to touching the kind of wealth Ludger had just tossed on a dusty counter like loose pocket change.

Rhea whispered, “Boss… you sure you didn’t mean to give him one?”

“No,” Ludger said flatly.

Derrin whispered back, “We work for a monster.”

Callen, who had followed to meet them, quietly nodded in agreement. Once the deed was signed, Ludger purified the interior with a sharp surge of wind mana. Dust flew out the windows in a swirling burst, the old wooden floors cleared, and the air shifted from stale to crisp in seconds. It wasn’t a grand place, but it was functional, and more importantly, it was theirs.

With that handled, he returned to the Torvares manor and immediately sought out Viola. He found her reviewing documents with Luna shadowing the corner.

“Do you know any good merchants in the capital who might work for me?” Ludger asked without preamble.

Viola blinked, lowering her papers. “That depends. What exactly are you planning to sell?”

“Sculptures.”

She stared at him.

“…Sculptures.”

“Yes.”

Her brows lowered. “Ludger, selling random statues in the capital sounds, how do I put this kindly, utterly pointless. You’re not a guild of artists.”

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about random sculptures. I’m talking about commissions.”

That made her pause.

Ludger gestured vaguely toward the window facing the garden. “A lot of nobles saw the bull sculpture out there. And nobles love two things: spending money… and showing off that they spent money.”

Rhea leaned in behind him and whispered, “He’s not wrong.”

Ludger continued, “If we have a merchant to handle commissions, orders for personal sculptures, clan emblems, mythic beasts, decorative mana-infused statues, it becomes a steady income stream. And a reason to stay in the capital. Nobles will pay obscene amounts for something unique.”

Viola’s expression shifted. First skepticism, then curiosity, then a small, impressed smirk.

“Huh,” she said, leaning back. “You might actually be onto something. If nobles started fighting over who gets a custom Ludger sculpture first… that would be a spectacle.”

Kaela popped her head in from the hallway. “Oh, I love this plan. Make rich idiots fight each other with money. Perfect.”

Maurien nodded thoughtfully. “It would also give the Lionsguard strong connections among noble households.”

Gaius folded his arms. “Practical. Profitable. And harmless. A good cover.”

Viola finally sighed and set the documents aside. “Alright. I’ll see who I can contact. I know a few merchants who handle noble commissions. But Ludger…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Make sure your sculptures don’t accidentally blow up if someone taps them wrong.”

Ludger grunted. “No promises.”

But there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The Rodericks were still out there. Verk was still missing. The Empire was on edge. But while waiting for the next storm to break, Ludger had just taken the first step toward rooting the Lionsguard firmly in the heart of the capital. And with that came something he hadn’t had in weeks, a plan.

The next morning, Viola personally escorted Ludger down to the manor’s reception hall to introduce him to the merchant she had selected. Ludger expected a refined, calculating noble merchant with a sharp gaze and a polished voice, someone who radiated business.

What he got instead was… a round-bellied, energetic, grinning man in his mid-forties wearing a slightly crooked vest and boots polished to the point of blinding.

He looked far too excited for someone meeting a geomancer who could level a building.

“Master Ludger! MASTER LUDGER!” the man practically shouted the moment he saw him. “By all the ancestors and spirits, it’s an honor! An absolute honor!”

Before Ludger could answer, the man seized his hand with both of his and started pumping it up and down with the enthusiasm of someone drawing water from a well.

“My name is Fendrel Marson, proprietor of Marson Exhibits, best supplier of curated goods this side of the capital, oh gods, your sculpture! That sculpture!”

He didn’t stop shaking Ludger’s hand; in fact, he redoubled his efforts.

“The bull in the Torvares garden, magnificent! Absolutely magnificent! Exquisite shaping! Perfect tension in the muscles! The posture! The balance! The raw presence! By the heavens, how old are you again?”

Ludger, who had maintained a stone-faced composure during assassination attempts, political interrogations, and battles against runic monsters, could only blink.

“…Twelve.”

“Twelve! TWELVE!” Fendrel practically vibrated. “Prodigy! Genius! A sculptor blessed by the earth itself!”

Viola pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, “I told you he’d be enthusiastic…”

Kaela stood at the top of the stairs snickering. The recruits watched from behind the doorway with wide eyes. Gaius pretended to meditate but was very obviously smirking.

Fendrel finally released Ludger’s hand, though his entire body still quivered with pent-up excitement.

“To think such craftsmanship came from someone so young! The nobles will go mad for your work! Simply mad! We’ll need a catalog, a demonstration room, display pedestals, oh, and lights! Special mage-lights to highlight the angles!”

Ludger raised a hand slowly, stopping the torrent of words.

“I just need someone to take commissions,” he said flatly.

Fendrel froze.

Then he placed a hand over his heart and bowed dramatically. “Master Ludger, I will sell your sculptures. I will market them. The capital will learn your name in every noble salon and banquet hall, I swear it!”

Viola chuckled under her breath. “He’s a bit eccentric, but he’s the best at handling noble commissions. And nobles love eccentric merchants.”

Ludger wasn’t sure if this man was a genius or a walking headache… but he needed a merchant. So he nodded once.

“Fine. Let’s get started.”

Fendrel let out a triumphant shout that echoed through the entire estate.

And just like that, the Lionsguard’s foothold in the capital began to take shape, loudly, energetically, and with far more enthusiasm than Ludger had mentally prepared for. Ludger didn’t waste time.

Once the introductions were done and Fendrel had finished vibrating with excitement, Ludger headed straight to the garden, the same place where the red bull sculpture stood proudly. The air was crisp, the earth beneath his feet calm, and the entire manor watched with a mix of curiosity and awe.

He stood in the center of the garden, glanced back at the house, and then turned his gaze toward Gaius.

The old geomancer raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning, boy?”

Ludger didn’t answer. He simply pressed a hand to the ground. The earth stirred.

A rumble rippled across the garden path as a mass of stone rose from the soil, shaping itself, folding in, expanding outward like clay under an invisible sculptor’s hand. The recruits slowly gathered. Viola and Luna stepped onto the balcony. Maurien and Kaela leaned against the rails. Even the servants paused their duties.

Fendrel stood front-row, hands over his mouth, eyes sparkling like a child on festival day. Slowly, unmistakably, the shape emerged: Gaius Stonefist.

Not young. Not prettified. But exactly as he was, broad shoulders, heavy arms crossed, the kind of solid body that resembled carved bedrock. Ludger captured his stern expression, his grounded posture, the signature stance that had earned him his fame. The stone around the fists hardened, compressing until it gleamed with a texture resembling polished granite.

It wasn’t a statue. A living legend immortalized in earth. When it was done, Ludger stepped back, brushing dust from his hands.

Gaius stared at his stone doppelgänger, blinked twice, then grunted. “…Not bad.”

Coming from Gaius Stonefist, that was the equivalent of thunderous applause. Fendrel nearly fainted.

“BY THE GODS ABOVE—MASTER LUDGER, THIS—THIS—THIS ISN’T SCULPTING, THIS IS DIVINE ARTISTRY! The posture! The detail! The aura! You captured Master Gaius’ legendary stance perfectly! The nobles will DEVOUR this!”

He actually dropped to his knees in the grass. But Ludger ignored the theatrics. He turned to the merchant with a calm, serious expression.

“Fendrel.”

The merchant froze mid-rant. “Y-Yes, Master Ludger?”

“I need you to teach me the basics of business.”

Fendrel blinked. Then blinked again. His enthusiastic grin slowly melted into an expression of pure, unfiltered confusion.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to learn the basics,” Ludger repeated. “Pricing. Negotiation. Customer behavior. How commissions work. I don’t plan to be cheated.”

Fendrel’s mouth opened… and no sound came out.

Kaela leaned over to Viola and whispered, “I think he broke him.”

Viola smothered a laugh behind her hand.

Gaius chuckled. “Good. Every guildmaster should learn business. Especially one who throws coin around like boulders.”

Fendrel finally exhaled in a shuddery gasp, eyes watering like he’d just been proposed to.

“MASTER LUDGER WANTS ME TO TEACH HIM BUSINESS…!?”

He clutched his chest dramatically.

“It would be the greatest honor of my career!”

Maurien patted Ludger’s shoulder. “You’ve doomed yourself. He’s going to talk for hours.”

Ludger sighed, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The shop, the sculptures, the merchant, the foothold in the capital… it was all coming together. Because if the Lionsguard was going to stand against nobles hiding in shadows and conspiracies buried under smoke and runes, they needed power. They needed information. They needed allies.

And now, they needed business. Ludger was preparing for the future in every way that mattered.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep