That evening, Ludger made his way home. The twins tackled his legs as usual, but today his mind wasn’t on impromptu training drills or their excited chatter. He waited. Patiently. Quietly.

Arslan returned later than usual, shoulders slumped, eyes carrying the same tired determination of a man slowly drowning in paperwork. He dragged himself inside and groaned.

“By the heaves… finding work for dozens of kids that isn’t dangerous, isn’t illegal, and doesn’t put stupid amounts of responsibility on their shoulders is impossible.” He tossed a stack of papers onto the table. “You’d think with a whole town and an entire guild, we’d have more options.”

Ludger didn’t respond.

Arslan narrowed his eyes. “…What is that look?”

Ludger leaned back in his chair. “Did Torvares tell you anything about the new recruits?”

Arslan blinked, confused. Then frowned.

“No. Not a word.”

That wasn’t normal. Torvares informed Arslan about every batch of recruits, names, origins, training status, strengths, weaknesses. Always. Without exception. So why keep quiet this time?

Why bring them personally? And why hide details from both Ludger and Arslan? Ludger’s gaze darkened slightly.Something was wrong. And Torvares knew it. But he wasn’t talking.

Ludger didn’t drop it. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on his father with that calm, dissecting stare he used during interrogations.

“Did you notice anything odd about them?” he asked.

Arslan scratched his chin, thinking back. “Odd? Hm… they introduced themselves normally. Polite. Disciplined. Good posture. Good manners.” He shrugged. “Nothing out of place.”

He paused a moment longer, then added, “They looked fine to me, Luds.”

Ludger didn’t respond right away. Fine? Fine how? The tall girl’s discipline was too perfect. The lean boy’s nerves were masked but sharp. And the final girl, she had avoided his eyes like looking at him would burn her. Fine wasn’t the word he’d use.

Arslan raised an eyebrow at Ludger’s silence. “Are you being paranoid? Seeing threats where there aren’t any? Or… is this about politics?” He gestured vaguely toward the air. “Because with the Lionsguard’s sudden fame and nobles crawling around like ants, I wouldn’t blame you. Perhaps you are too tired, you never take breaks, after all.”

Ludger exhaled slowly. Was it paranoia? A side effect of handling nobles and underworld scum for months? Or was it instinct, the same instinct that kept him alive in labyrinths and bandit dens? He couldn’t say for sure.

Arslan leaned forward. “Son, is something bothering you?”

For a brief second, Ludger considered telling him the truth, about the girl’s strange behavior, about Torvares coming personally instead of sending a guard, about the feeling that the trio weren’t recruits but pieces in a larger game. But he stopped himself.

Speaking that aloud would plant seeds of suspicion. In Arslan. In the guild. In the recruits themselves. If Ludger was wrong, he’d risk paranoia spreading through Lionfang like wildfire. If he was right… those seeds needed to be planted carefully.

So he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to know what to expect from them. So I know how to deal with training.”

Arslan nodded slowly, accepting the answer without pushing further. “Fair enough.”

Ludger leaned back as Arslan stood to sort papers, his thoughts swirling beneath a calm expression. He realized then that he should keep his suspicions quiet. At least for now.

The last thing he needed was panic, mistrust, or whispers among guild members, especially the newcomers. That was how factions formed. How problems grew. If Torvares was hiding something… he would find it out. But he would do it quietly. Carefully. Without stirring the waters. Because sometimes, loud problems could be crushed with earth and stone. But the quiet ones… Those required patience.

Ludger decided, reluctantly, to let a few days pass before making any moves. Observing the trio quietly would tell him more than any direct question. The tall girl with amber eyes, the runner boy, and especially the quiet one… if there was something Torvares hadn’t said, it would surface eventually.

He’d watch. He’d wait. He’d unravel it piece by piece. That was the plan.

And, of course, nothing in Ludger’s life ever went according to plan. The very next day, chaos arrived early.

Ludger had just finished sorting through a stack of documents, logistics for shipments bound for the Velis League: mana cores sorted by grade, froststeel bars stacked by purity, delivery routes checked twice for bandit activity. Arslan had nearly passed out from relief when Ludger took the paperwork off his hands.

With the last seal stamped, Ludger pushed the chair back and stepped out of the guild office, just in time to hear a violent CRACK echo through the entire entrance hall.

Ludger froze. He knew that sound. Someone had kicked the guild door.

Not nudged. Not knocked. Kicked. Which was impressive, considering the door was open.

He stepped forward just as the wooden frame finished rattling from the impact.

Every Lionsguard member present turned toward the entrance.

Standing there like he owned the place was a young man, late teens, maybe seventeen or eighteen, lean but muscular, carrying a long sword strapped across his back in a showy diagonal sheath. On his opposite side hung a small traveler’s backpack, patched but well-kept. He wore a confident smile that hovered somewhere between charming and punchable.

His boots were dusted from the long road, but his steps were light, controlled. He walked like he’d been trained. Head high. Shoulders relaxed. Eyes scanning the room with amusement, mischief, and challenge rolled into one expression.

He cracked his knuckles.

“Well,” the young man said, grin widening, “so this is the famous Lionsguard, huh?”

Several members stiffened immediately. A few recruits blinked in confusion. Darnell groaned under his breath.

Ludger’s eye twitched. Of course. Of course

trouble walked in kicking doors the very morning Ludger promised himself a quiet observational period.

The young man looked around, sizing up every single person he saw… then his gaze landed squarely on Ludger. And the confident smile sharpened, like he’d just found exactly who he was looking for.

A low, exasperated groan rolled across the guild hall, one Ludger recognized instantly. Kaela.

She was sitting at her usual table with Harold and Kharnek, nursing a drink and a sour mood she’d been carrying ever since Viola’s birthday party, for reasons that Ludger still didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he wanted to. The moment the new arrival kicked the door, her whole posture screamed:

Oh no. Not him.

The young man’s smile brightened the instant he heard her. He pivoted smoothly, eyes lighting up.

“Well, well, well, Kaela,” he said, voice full of smug familiarity. “Long time no see.”

Kaela didn’t bother standing. Didn’t bother smiling. Didn’t even bother acknowledging him properly.

She just took a long sip from her mug and muttered, “Unfortunately.”

The young man only laughed, clearly delighted by her irritation. “I didn’t think you were actually serious about joining a guild. But then I heard the rumors. Lionsguard. New border town. Strong members. Some kid vice guildmaster terrorizing nobles.”

His grin widened.

“Oh, and you know how I love rumors.”

Ludger turned slowly toward Kaela, one eyebrow raised.

Explanation? Now.

Kaela felt the weight of his stare but didn’t give him anything useful. She just clicked her tongue and tossed her hair behind her shoulder.

For weeks she had been oddly moody. Ever since the birthday party, she’d been snappier, drinking more, and shooting Ludger occasional glares whenever someone mentioned his sculptures. He had suspected it was related to him not making a sculpture of her, but Kaela being Kaela, she refused to confirm or deny anything.

Now she snorted at the newcomer, making it clear she was not about to start explaining anything today either. The young man, completely oblivious or simply bold, strode into the hall like it belonged to him and plopped himself down right on the table where Kaela, Harold, and Kharnek were drinking.

Harold raised an eyebrow but didn’t move. Kharnek glanced at the kid once, judged him as “not prey,” and returned to his drink. Kaela’s eye twitched, but she didn’t kick him off… which meant she knew him well enough not to break his ribs.

Probably. The newcomer grinned around the table.

“So this is where you ended up,” he said, gesturing lazily at the guild hall. “Drinking with northerners, veterans, and apparently teaching kids. Quite the downgrade from hunting bandits, don’t you think?”

Kaela deadpanned, “Sit properly or I’ll break your legs.”

He held up both hands, unbothered. “Ah, there’s the Kaela I remember.”

Ludger watched all of this with a growing sense of annoyance, and curiosity. The room was buzzing. New kids leaned forward. Recruits exchanged looks. Even Yvar peeked out from behind the ledger room, adjusting his glasses like a nervous owl.

Whoever this guy was… Kaela tolerated him. Kharnek didn’t crush him. Harold didn’t throw him out. That alone was unusual. But what mattered most was the way he kept glancing at Ludger, evaluating him, measuring him, as if already deciding something important. And Ludger could already tell: This wasn’t a random traveler. This was another complication dropped in his lap. A complication with history attached to Kaela.

Ludger finally had enough of watching from a distance.

He walked toward the table, steps slow, controlled, and carrying just enough weight that the guild hall subtly quieted. Harold glanced up. Kharnek lifted an eyebrow. Kaela pretended not to notice him approaching even though her shoulders tensed like a cornered cat. Ludger stopped beside the table.

“Kaela,” he said flatly, “who is this guy? Or should I throw him outside first and ask questions later?”

Kaela didn’t even look at him.

She just snorted, loudly, like an annoyed child whose toy had been taken away. The newcomer laughed.

“Oh, come on, that’s rude. At least let me introduce myself before you punt me through the door.”

He swung one leg down from the table and gave Ludger a casual salute.

“Name’s Renvar. Random adventurer, occasional scout, impressive flirt, depending on who you ask…” Kaela groaned at that part, which he ignored completely. “I ran into Kaela a few times on the road. Usually when she was… uh, what was it?”

He snapped his fingers.

“Right. Exterminating kidnappers. Lots and lots of kidnappers.”

Kaela muttered, “Idiots always scream too much.”

Renvar nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, it was impressive. And terrifying. Mostly terrifying.”

Ludger stared at him without blinking. Renvar kept smiling, though the smile got slightly more nervous.

“Anyway,” Renvar continued, “I heard rumors about this place. The Lionsguard. New rising guild. Strong fighters. And apparently,” he leaned back with a grin, “they terrorize nobles across the empire.”

The guild hall collectively turned toward Ludger. Including Kaela, who raised an eyebrow like she wanted to see how he’d respond. Ludger crossed his arms.

“We don’t terrorize anyone.”

Renvar blinked. “Really? That’s not what the rumors sa—”

“I,” Ludger said, tapping his own chest with one finger, “terrorize anyone who gets on my nerves.”

Silence. Then Harold choked on his drink. Kharnek smirked like he’d just found a new favorite line. Kaela broke into a tiny, traitorous snicker before catching herself. Renvar’s confident grin wavered for a moment.

“…Right. Good to know.”

Ludger looked him up and down again, assessing, calculating.

Renvar wasn’t just some bragging idiot. He had the look of someone who could actually fight, someone who’d survived more than his stories let on. And someone dumb enough, or bold enough, to walk into the Lionsguard uninvited.

Ludger wasn’t sure yet if that was good or bad. But one thing was certain:

This guy wasn’t here by accident.

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