Once the beastman’s breathing steadied and Rathen’s underlings resumed clearing the wreckage, the group gathered near the mast. Maurien leaned against a broken railing, Kaela perched on a crate, Renvar stretched his torn shoulder with a grimace, and Rathen stood with his arms crossed, eyes sharp.

Ludger dusted off his hands, still faintly swollen from the earlier clashes. The healing had helped, but the ache lingered, an irritating reminder of how close the fight had pushed him.

“I learned something during the battle,” Ludger began, voice flat. Everyone turned toward him. Even Renvar stopped cracking his knuckles. “That guy didn’t just show up here for money. Their captain was expecting us.”

Rathen’s brows lifted. “Expecting you specifically?”

Ludger nodded once. “Yes.”

Kaela’s eyes narrowed. “Great. So they had intelligence on us.”

“More than that.” Ludger tapped his temple, replaying the beastman’s earlier words. “He knew there was a chance someone ‘like me’ would show up. Whoever leads them, or whoever funds them, warned them about the lionsguard.”

Maurien crossed his arms, interest sharpening. “That’s not something normal pirates would prepare for.”

“No,” Ludger replied. “It isn’t.”

He glanced toward the crates where Rathen’s men were piling up salvaged equipment. Runic rifles. Sabotage tools. Reinforced cannon cores. Too advanced, too expensive, too coordinated for a loose band of ocean raiders.

“And there’s more,” Ludger continued. “He recognized me. Not personally, but by reputation. Said my name’s been spreading in the underworld.”

Renvar raised a hand. “In a good or bad way?”

Ludger shot him a blank look. “How do you think?”

“Oh. Bad then.”

Kaela kicked him lightly in the leg.

Ludger kept going. “Between the runic equipment, their organization, the information leaks… it lines up with everything we’ve been finding the last months.” His expression tightened, voice dropping lower. “These pirates are in league with an underworld guild. A big one. The same type that backed Ragdar. The same type that sent berserker draughts north.”

Maurien’s jaw tensed. His eyes narrowed with a sharp, cold recognition. “Meaning Rodericks.”

“And Verk,” Ludger added.

Rathen’s face darkened. “The escaped Velis councillor?”

“Yes.” Ludger folded his arms. “The beastman didn’t say his name, but the clues line up. Advanced runic equipment. Long-range mana support grids. The presence of berserker draught. And the fact they knew someone powerful might board them.”

Kaela muttered, “That’s not piracy. That’s a funded operation.”

Maurien nodded grimly. “A dangerous one.”

Rathen exhaled, staring at the ruined captain’s cabin as if it might still hold answers. “Your enemies have far-reaching connections, Ludger. If they knew you might show up here… then they’re watching the Lionsguard closely.”

Ludger didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the bound prisoners, at the scattered runic shards, at the flickering embers still glowing across the deck.

Finally, he said quietly:

“They’re not just watching us.” He looked up at Rathen. “They’re planning something.”

Ludger wiped the last traces of blood from his palms, flexing the half-healed fingers as he glanced toward the ruined captain’s cabin. The entire rear structure of the ship was mangled beyond recognition: beams shattered, support posts bent, planks split and sagging inward. Even the runic foundation of the mana core housing had crumbled like wet clay.

He exhaled through his nose. “How long until the cabin is repaired?” he asked. “And the ship is ready to sail again?”

Rathen turned toward the wreckage with a grim expression. Several of his men were taking careful measurements while others struggled to pry apart the collapsed remains of the cabin. “A while,” he admitted. “This ship isn’t one of ours. The shielding matrix, the hull reinforcement, the core housing, none of it follows Ironhand design.” He scratched the back of his head. “Truth is, it might take weeks unless we get help from someone who knows this kind of work.”

Ludger nodded slightly. “Because it’s not from any maritime guild around here.”

Rathen frowned. “Why are you asking?”

Ludger didn’t answer at first, gaze still locked on the broken cabin. Something cold flickered behind his eyes, the spark of a plan forming in the quiet space between breaths.

Finally, he said, “We could use this.”

Maurien lifted an eyebrow. “Use what?”

“This ship,” Ludger replied. “Pirate flagships like this don’t operate alone. They respond to one another. They call for backup when they fail to check in.” He tapped the deck with his boot, feeling the unique reinforcement humming faintly beneath the surface. “If we patch this enough to sail, we could approach their allies pretending to be one of them. They wouldn’t expect to be boarded. Not by us.”

Kaela’s grin spread immediately, sharp and thrilled. “Now that,” she said, “is a plan I can get behind. Infiltration, surprise attack, complete confusion, the works.”

Maurien folded his arms, nodding slowly. “It would certainly let us pick our fights instead of waiting to be ambushed.” His eyes gleamed with approval. “And we’d gather intel faster than interrogations alone.”

Renvar, on the other hand, stiffened slightly. His shoulders rose as a shiver ran down his spine. “Vice Guildmaster…” he whispered, staring at Ludger with wide eyes. “You’re terrifying. You know that, right?”

Ludger shrugged. “Only to enemies.”

Rathen let out a rough sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Ludger… I don’t know if this is brilliant or insane. Maybe both. But it won’t be easy.” He gestured broadly toward the south. “If the pirates are working with a major underworld guild, and the equipment here is clearly from the Velis League’s black market, then their base is likely somewhere between the Velis League routes and the Primal Groves.”

Kaela’s smile faded slightly. Maurien’s expression tightened. Renvar swallowed audibly.

Rathen continued, “That’s international territory. Borderland. Neutral-but-not-really. If we sail their flagship, waving their colors, and then start attacking bases…”

“It could spark an international incident,” Maurien finished.

Rathen nodded grimly. “Exactly. The League won’t like it. And if the Primal Groves get even a hint that a human-led guild is sailing a beastman-affiliated pirate vessel into their waters…” He exhaled deeply. “It could go bad. Really bad.”

The group fell silent. Ludger didn’t blink.

“Then,” he said quietly, “we just have to make sure no one knows it’s us.”

Maurien smirked, slow, dangerous. Kaela’s grin returned even wider. Renvar trembled again. And Rathen looked like he aged five years on the spot. The plan was insane. But it was also the best shot they had.

Rathen rubbed his forehead again, visibly wrestling with the weight of his next words. The crew around him continued to bind prisoners, haul crates, and extinguish small fires, but the tension between him and Ludger pulled the air tight as a rope.

“Ludger…” Rathen began slowly, voice steadier than before. “I appreciate your help. Really. Without you, this entire port would’ve fallen. But that plan is…”

“Efficient,” Ludger replied.

“Insane,” Rathen corrected sharply.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry to the underlings hovering nearby. “Even if we rushed to fix the ship, even if we got the cabin reinforced enough to sail… we’d still be gambling that their allies expect this vessel in the next few days.” He shook his head, jaw tightening. “It’s not likely. Pirates don’t operate on strict schedules, but smugglers do. If this shipment was important, then they already have backup routes or contingency plans. We’d be chasing shadows.”

Ludger said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Rathen exhaled sharply, pacing a few steps, boots crunching over broken planks. “I’m grateful for what you did here. I truly am. But I can’t risk the name of the Ironhand Guild on reckless infiltration. We have allies, legal, political, financial. Those bonds take years to build. If we do something this provocative, even in secret, and word leaks out? We’d lose everything we’ve worked for.”

Kaela rolled her eyes subtly, but Maurien stayed silent, watching.

Rathen continued, voice dropping to a more personal, worn tone. “And Lucius… Lucius barely scraped through the last internal dispute. Half the merchant lords want him gone, and the other half are waiting to see if he falls on his face.” His gaze drifted toward the sea, wind tugging at his coat. “If he gets tied to an operation like this, pirate infiltration across international borders, his family’s political position collapses.”

He met Ludger’s eyes again, this time without annoyance or sarcasm.

“This isn’t just about danger,” Rathen said. “It’s about consequences. The Ironhand Guild is already stretched thin. Our reputation is the only thing keeping people investing in us. If you drag us into this… we might not recover.”

Ludger’s face remained calm, but his gaze sharpened ever so slightly. Rathen recognized that look. The boy wasn’t offended. He wasn’t angry. He was thinking.

And that was even more worrying.

Rathen held up a hand, stopping Ludger before he could speak. “I know you’re not afraid of the consequences. You’re young. You’re strong. You don’t think about the political debris left behind after someone like you punches through a wall.”

A humorless smile tugged at his mouth.

“But I do. Lucius does. And the Ironhand Guild can’t carry that burden right now.”

Kaela shifted. Renvar swallowed hard. Maurien raised an eyebrow. For a solid moment, the deck was silent except for the crackling of the last burning crate and the quiet lapping of waves against the damaged hull.

And then Rathen concluded, more softly:

“So I’m telling you this as a guild leader, and indirectly as someone who considers your father’s guild an ally, don’t drag us into something that could start a war.”

His gaze locked onto Ludger’s, firm, honest, and weighted with the hard truth.

“Not even you can punch your way out of an international incident.”

Ludger listened to Rathen without interrupting, expression carved from stone. When the man finished, the boy simply nodded once, slow, steady, accepting. Outwardly, he looked cooperative, respectful even. Rathen’s shoulders loosened a fraction, relieved to see the dangerous glint in Ludger’s eyes dim slightly.

But internally? Ludger understood exactly what Rathen was saying. And he also understood exactly what Rathen didn’t understand.

He didn’t voice any of it. He kept his posture relaxed, gaze down, hands clasped behind his back as if he agreed completely. He knew how to look harmless. He’d been practicing that look since the day he started walking battle lines.

But his thoughts ran cold and clear. In the end, Rathen was right about one thing: This was the reality of the situation. The Ironhand Guild had politics. They had alliances. They had merchant routes, nobles to satisfy, investors to appease.

They couldn’t move without shaking hands afterward. They couldn’t retaliate without filing paperwork. They couldn’t strike back without permission. They had to care. The Lionsguard didn’t. Arslan didn’t. Elaine didn’t. And Ludger definitely didn’t.

He didn’t need fame, reputation, or support from merchant lords. He didn’t need trade routes or political backing. What the Lionsguard cared about, what Ludger cared about, was simple:

Eliminate threats. Protect their own. Cut out the roots of anyone who tried to poison their territory.And if the underworld was coming for them? If pirates, nobles, and foreign handlers were weaving threads around Lionfang? Waiting for permission would only tighten the noose.

If Ludger wanted things done, he couldn’t wait for guild leaders to weigh consequences or politicians to draft safe strategies. He couldn’t rely on allies bound by constraints that didn’t apply to him. He would act in the shadows. Quietly. Exactly as needed. With no hesitation.

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