Vorak didn’t answer immediately.

For the first time since he regained consciousness, the beastman wasn’t masking anything behind arrogance or battle-hard pride. He stared down at the deck, jaw clenched, breathing slow. His silence wasn’t defiance this time.

It was calculation. And… concern. For his underlings. Ludger saw it. Rathen saw it. Maurien’s eyes softened just a fraction. Even Kaela tilted her head slightly.

Vorak finally exhaled through his nose, gaze rising again. “If half my people will be freed,” he said quietly, “then I need a guarantee.”

Rathen frowned. “What kind?”

Vorak straightened his back despite the chains pulling against his injuries. “Half of my underlings… the ones you agree to release… must be dropped off immediately at the Primal Groves.” He paused. “They won’t survive anywhere else.”

The deck stiffened. Primal Groves. Beastman territory. Borderland with  Velis League. Neutral at best. Hostile by default. Rathen looked at Ludger. Ludger looked back at Rathen.

The request wasn’t unreasonable, but it wasn’t simple either.

Rathen sighed first. “With this ship,” he said, pointing at the repaired railing, “the trip would take at least seven days. That’s just the journey there.” He rubbed his forehead. “And another seven to come back. Two weeks minimum.”

Those two weeks would be spent sailing a pirate flagship, through international waters, toward a nation that wasn’t fond of humans, and even less fond of pirates.

Ludger crossed his arms, thinking. “We’re not wasting that time.”

Rathen raised an eyebrow.

Ludger continued, tone calm but decisive. “We have the runic gear, cannons, shields, conduits. Linne and Dalan are the only ones in Lionsguard with proper runic engineering knowledge.” He gestured toward the cannons stacked on the deck. “If we’re already sailing for two weeks, we might as well bring them along and have them analyze everything.”

Maurien nodded in agreement. “We’d gain time instead of losing it. And they’ll need the ocean’s ambient mana to test the long-range conduits.”

Kaela grinned. “Plus, I want to see Dalan thrown around by sea wind. I bet he gets seasick immediately, should be hilarious.”

Rathen ignored her.

His jaw tightened, fingers massaging the bridge of his nose as he stared at Ludger. “You want to sail a pirate flagship,” he said slowly, “that hasn’t even been rearranged for Lionsguard command yet…”

Ludger nodded.

“…toward the Primal Groves…”

Nod.

“…while transporting prisoners  and two of your engineers…”

Another nod.

“…and you want me to approve this because it ‘saves time’?”

Ludger nodded again. Rathen stared at him like he was trying to determine whether Ludger was a genius or a disaster waiting to happen. Probably both.

Finally, he sighed—long, exhausted, defeated. “I can agree to it.” He lifted a finger sharply. “But only if the information Vorak provides is actually useful. If he wastes our time, then this plan dies immediately.”

Vorak’s eyes hardened. He understood the weight of that.

Ludger stepped closer. “Your conditions are fair,” he said. “But remember, your people’s lives depend on your honesty.”

Vorak nodded once.

“Then ask your questions.”

And the deck grew very, very quiet. Rathen stepped closer again, arms crossed, voice rough but controlled.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” he said. “Who gave you this ship? And the runic equipment? Someone had to supply it. Someone wealthy. Someone with connections.”

Vorak grimaced, not from pain, but from the weight of the question. His ears twitched backward, a distinctly beastman sign of irritation or frustration. He sighed heavily, like dragging the words out of his chest physically hurt.

“…We received it,” he said slowly, “from a certain underworld guild in the Primal Groves.”

Ludger’s eyes sharpened. Maurien exhaled through his nose. Kaela muttered, “Called it.” Renvar blinked, confused about how he had not called it.

Vorak continued, tone lower now. “They’re part of a faction, one that wants to push the clans to strike back against some of the Velis League’s city academies.”

Rathen frowned. “Why the academies specifically? Why not the cities or ports?”

Vorak let out a tired laugh, shaking his head. “Because of their damn smoke and mist. Their magical exhausts. Their factories. The smog from their experiments. All of it creeps toward our land. Toward the Groves. Toward our forests. Our hunting grounds.” He gave a bitter grin. “Some beastmen are tired of watching the east choke the edges of our home.”

Ludger understood immediately, this wasn’t about piracy. It was about leverage. And revenge.

Vorak continued. “The guild master didn’t tell us who supplied the ships or the runic gear. We’re not high enough in the chain for that.” He tilted his head back against the mast, wincing as the chains bit into his skin. “But he said once enough ‘resources’ were collected, our job was simple, attack certain locations in the Velis League when the time came.”

“Which locations?” Ludger asked quietly.

Vorak shook his head. “We weren’t told. Just that they’d give orders later, through intermediaries.”

Rathen growled under his breath. “So the guild master was using you as muscle.”

Vorak’s lips curled. “Using us? No. He was using the greed of the Velis League and the anger of our tribes to spark conflict. Beastmen rage. Velis arrogance. He planned to profit from the chaos.”

Kaela squatted next to Vorak, eyes narrowed. “And you were okay with that?”

Vorak snorted. “I was okay with defending our territory. Not with becoming a puppet.”

Ludger watched him closely. Vorak wasn’t lying, not in posture, not in scent, not in micro-expression. Beastmen rarely lied well; their instincts betrayed them. But this… this came from exhaustion and a bone-deep resentment.

Ludger glanced at Rathen. The Ironhand leader’s expression had gone tight with calculation.

An underworld guild in the Primal Groves. Anti-Velis factions. Runic technology distributed without oversight. And a plan to strike multiple academies, each one full of elite engineers, master craftsmen, and influential people. It was a perfect storm. Vorak wasn’t done.

“There’s more,” he said, eyes narrowing with unpleasant memory. “Our guild master mentioned working with, how’d he put it…? ‘Exiles seeking return.’ Someone with a grudge against Velis leadership.”

Ludger’s eyes sharpened like glass under pressure. Verk. It lined up too perfectly. Rathen cursed under his breath. Maurien’s expression turned cold.

Kaela clicked her tongue. “They’re building an international powder keg.”

Vorak nodded once. “And they wanted us to light the fuse.”

Ludger’s mind raced, quiet, efficient, already assembling the next piece of the puzzle.

This was larger than piracy. This was a war someone was trying to forge in the shadows. And Ludger had just grabbed the first real thread.

Rathen took a slow breath, visibly processing the implications. “Hold on,” he said, leveling a steady stare at the beastman. “There’s still the moderate faction in the Primal Groves. The council elders. The clan leaders who negotiate with and keep the peace with Velis league. They wouldn’t allow a war that easily.”

Vorak gave a bitter, humorless huff. “Of course they wouldn’t. That’s why the fanatics in the underworld guild needed pawns like us. Needed smaller groups to act as the spark. Needed… plausible deniability.” His fingers twitched against the runic chains. “Our attacks weren’t meant to start the war. They were meant to gather resources. Build leverage. Win the support of the desperate and angry tribes.”

Rathen frowned deeper, but Vorak wasn’t finished.

“And since the Empire made business agreements with the Velis League, trade deals, magical material exchanges, our guild master said they’d be the perfect soft targets.” Vorak met Rathen’s gaze, then Ludger’s. “Every shipment you protected, every route you cleared, Velis counted on those.”

Maurien’s jaw tightened. “You mean you weren’t attacking Ironhand for profit.”

“No,” Vorak said. “We attacked because we were told the shipments you were guarding were meant for Velis traders. We hit what your Empire wanted to protect. Your losses weaken their confidence. Make them blame Ironhand. Make Velis look exploitable.” He exhaled sharply. “And every shipment that never reached Velis… was one less asset their academies could use to develop defenses.”

Kaela raised a brow. “Resources that would’ve made war harder?”

Vorak nodded. “Exactly. If materials don’t reach the academies, their weapon development slows down. Their runecrafters work blind. Their air quality worsens. Their trading alliances strain.” He gave a bleak smile. “Our guild master said the more chaos there is between the Empire and Velis… the easier a real war becomes.”

Rathen cursed under his breath. “They were trying to isolate Velis?”

“And force the Primal Groves into a corner,” Vorak added. “Anti-Velis clans gain influence. Moderate clans lose power. When war finally comes, the fanatics get to say—‘see? They poisoned our lands, stole our forests, ignored our warnings. We warned you. Now we must fight.’” His shoulders sagged slightly. “And weaker tribes like mine? We’d be forced to join, or slowly die.”

Ludger’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened. “You were one piece in a political trap.”

Vorak laughed bitterly. “One of many.”

Kaela crossed her arms. “And letting the shipments be robbed was part of it.”

Vorak nodded again. “The guild master told us, every crate we stole, every export we sank, every supply we intercepted, was a step toward weakening Velis defenses.” He looked up, tired and resigned. “We didn’t even know what half the cargo was for. Just that it controlled the mana smog and powered the shield grids around the border academies.”

Rathen looked sick. “You were making sure Velis couldn’t protect their own cities.”

“And making sure the Empire blamed Ironhand for failing to protect shipments,” Vorak finished. “Two birds with one stone.”

Ludger stepped back slightly, mind already racing ahead.

This wasn’t piracy. This wasn’t smuggling. This wasn’t even sabotage. It was deliberate destabilization. A long game to ignite a three-way conflict:

Velis → Empire → Primal Groves.

And someone was forcing all three toward the brink. Vorak lowered his head.

“You wanted truth,” he said softly. “There it is.”

Ludger listened to Vorak’s explanation without flinching, his expression carved from something still and cold. Every detail slotted neatly into place, too neatly. When Vorak finally finished, Ludger didn’t immediately respond. He only tilted his head back and looked at the sky, the repaired mast creaking lightly beneath the rolling wind.

He had suspected it for a long time now. Someone wanted to destabilize the Empire. Someone wanted chaos.

And someone was willing to use anyone, pirates, smugglers, beastmen tribes, rogue nobles, and probably a few idiots in between, to get it done. He already knew who the first culprit was. The Rodericks.

Their pattern had been obvious in hindsight: Funding draught distribution. Supporting Ragdar indirectly. Leaking shipments. Smuggling illegal gear. Stirring unrest wherever coin could flow.

But now… Now it wasn’t just them. Two more nations, two more entire factions, had stepped onto the board.

Velis League splinters, acting through exile networks. Verk, the deranged former councillor who sought vengeance or power or both. And now the Primal Groves, well, a faction of them, seeking to push the clans into a war they couldn’t win.

Foreign gears turning in sync. All pushing the same direction. Weaken the Empire. Weaken Velis. Destabilize the Groves. Profit from the chaos.

Ludger’s jaw tightened.  He exhaled through his nose.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “One group destabilizing the Empire wasn’t enough.”

Kaela glanced over, amused despite the situation. Maurien folded his arms. Rathen looked tired.

Ludger continued softly, voice flat but edged with weary annoyance. “Now two more countries joined in.”

He tilted his head a bit more, squinting at the sky as if the clouds might offer an explanation. “Verk is insane enough to weaken his own country just to get revenge or that was already his plan to begin with,” he muttered. “And someone in the Primal Groves has the same brilliant idea.”

He let the thoughts settle, then sighed, the long, exhausted kind that belonged to someone far older than twelve.

“…There are a lot of insane people in the world.”

Kaela chuckled. “Welcome to politics.”

Rathen didn’t laugh. Maurien didn’t either. Because Ludger wasn’t wrong. And if the world was this unstable now…it meant Ludger and the Lionsguard were going to be very, very busy.

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