On the afternoon of the seventh day at sea, the world changed.

The waters grew darker, calmer, strangely reverent. The wind slowed as if bowing. And ahead, rising like a wall of ancient guardians, stood the Primal Groves.

Trees taller than castle towers loomed from the coastline, trunks thick as houses, their crowns disappearing into a green haze. Vines hung like serpents. Birds screeched with wild, territorial voices. Even from kilometers out, the forest felt alive in a way no imperial woodland ever did.

Maurien’s eyes narrowed, posture sharpening. Ludger frowned, jaw tight, his instincts awake.

Renvar and Kaela leaned over the railing, awe written plainly across their faces. Even the beastman prisoners sat up straighter, eyes fixed on their homeland with something between pride and sadness.

Vorak exhaled quietly. “Home.”

Rathen joined them on deck, pointing toward the treeline. “I’ve made trips this far a handful of times. Delegations. Trade proposals. Never anchored close.” He rubbed his arm like someone recalling a tense memory. “They patrol their coast aggressively. Outsiders aren’t welcomed lightly.”

Ludger nodded. “But they have pirates,” he said calmly. “Which means they have ports.”

Rathen hesitated, then answered. “They do, hidden ones. Trading points. And one neutral dock that serves as a border checkpoint.” He paused, glancing at the prisoners. “If the currents hold, we should reach that port around noon tomorrow.”

Kaela twirled a dagger lazily. “Neutral port? Sounds like a trap waiting to happen.”

Maurien agreed with a quiet hum. “Neutral only means no open warfare. Assassins still breathe air.”

Rathen took a slow breath. “Which is why I ask, wouldn’t it be safer to release the prisoners quietly? Before the port sees us coming? Before reports spread?”

It was a valid concern. If political extremists or the underworld guild caught wind that a stolen flagship carrying captured operatives was approaching… diplomacy could turn into an ambush.

Ludger absorbed the information in silence for a moment. The ship rocked gently under them.

The Groves whispered with the breath of ancient beasts. Every second mattered.

Then Ludger turned, expression shifting.

The calm, neutral mask he wore in the most recent days slipped only enough to reveal that smirk.The sharp, calculating one he used when things were way too amusing. The one that meant he had a plan nobody else expected.

Kaela saw it first and laughed under her breath. Renvar’s shoulders tensed like a man watching a fuse spark. Maurien’s gaze sharpened, intrigued.

Rathen stared, uneasy. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Ludger’s voice was low. Smooth. Dangerous with confidence.

“Because dropping them unnoticed,” he said, “would be easy.”

His eyes glinted with something ruthless and strategic.

“But approaching the port openly… while flying the pirate colors?”

He raised a brow.

“That might tell us who reacts.”

The deck went silent.

Kaela’s grin widened like a cat spotting prey. “Oh, I like where this is going.”

Maurien folded his arms. “A bait vessel.”

Rathen’s face paled slightly as realization dawned. “You want to see which factions move to block us.”

Ludger didn’t deny it.

“Anyone who tries to stop us,” he said, “is afraid of what our prisoners know.”

A trap. A signal. A test. Not hiding, inviting them to show their hand.

The Groves loomed closer, shadows deep and wild, as Ludger’s smirk held steady. The Lionsguard weren’t just delivering prisoners. They were hunting information.

Rathen’s face tightened as Ludger’s smirk lingered.

The Ironhand guildmaster stepped closer, voice low but urgent.

“Ludger, think this through. Sailing into another country’s waters on a stolen flagship without prior notice is begging for trouble. The Empire didn’t send word. The Lionsguard didn’t send word. If the Primal Groves mistook this as a hostile act—”

“They might attack,” Ludger finished calmly. “I know.”

“And you’re still doing it?” Rathen pressed, incredulous.

Ludger turned toward him, eyes sharp, voice steady as carved granite.

“I’ll handle the consequences. Here, and when we return to Imperial soil. The flagship is under Lionsguard authority. If problems arise, they fall on us. Not Ironhand.”

Kaela whistled softly. Maurien didn’t flinch, he expected no less from Ludger. Renvar muttered something about dying young.

Ludger then faced Vorak, the chained monkey beastman sitting under watch. The pirate stared back, suspicious, waiting for the trap hidden in mercy.

“You and your men will be returned to the Primal Groves, as agreed,” Ludger said.

Vorak’s brows furrowed. “Where?”

Ludger’s smirk widened, this time intelligent, not cruel.

“We never specified where. And we never agreed that your return had to be quiet.”

Kaela chuckled under her breath like someone enjoying theater. Several sailors stiffened. Even the prisoners looked uneasy, understanding the implications forming.

Maurien folded his arms, voice smooth as falling sand.

“So when we release them,” he said, “it will be public. Before Groves eyes. Before their authorities. Vorak and his people will technically be free, but they will be delivered straight into official hands.”

Vorak’s jaw clenched. “…So you keep the deal, but the law takes over.”

Ludger nodded once.

“You said you wanted your people safe. I’ll ensure they return home alive.” His gaze lowered, serious. “But if your guild is stirring war, your leaders should answer, not your men. Well, they still will be locked up for a while.”

Maurien eyed Ludger, thoughtful. “You’re planning to use this as an entry point. A reason to talk to Groves officials.”

Ludger’s reply was simple.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No apology. Just reality. The Primal Groves didn’t know who Ludger was. They didn’t understand the Lionsguard’s reach.  But returning a pirate crew, alive and mostly intact, while flying the guild colors? That would force a conversation.

Diplomacy by leverage, mercy delivered with visible teeth. Rathen exhaled like a man aging five years in one breath.

“You’re turning this into a political mission,” he muttered, half in awe, half terrified. “You’re… weaponizing prisoner release.”

Ludger didn’t deny it.

Kaela leaned forward with a grin, eyes bright with mischief.

“Our little vice guildmaster just doesn’t miss a chance, does he?”

Maurien smiled faintly. “He creates opportunities where others only see obligations.”

Vorak stared at Ludger for a long moment, then finally lowered his head, acknowledging strength.

“…You play dangerous, cub.”

Ludger’s voice was soft, but the deck felt colder when he spoke.

“I only play to win.”

And with the Groves ahead and noon approaching… It was almost time for the release. And the hunt beyond it.

Morning came sharp and clear, the sea like glass beneath the flagship’s keel. Mist clung low over the water, the ancient treeline of the Primal Groves blotting out the horizon like a living fortress. As noon crept closer, the ship rounded a bend in the coastline, and the “neutral port” came into view.

Except it was anything but neutral. An entire fleet waited for them. Long, narrow warships of living wood, grown, not built. Hulls wrapped in vines thicker than wrists. Bows carved into snarling beasts with mana flickering in their eyes. Warriors lined the decks, beastmen of wolf, tiger, boar, bear, armed with javelins, spears, and rune-etched bows drawn and aimed at the flagship.

Not one vessel moved backward. They were waiting.

Renvar’s breath hitched. “Oh shit.”

Kaela licked her lips, excited. “Now that’s a welcome.”

Maurien’s mana stirred, calm but ready to kill if needed.

Rathen muttered under his breath, “Let’s hope this works.”

He stepped forward and signaled the crew, hoist the white banner. Not a surrender flag, but the diplomatic sigil used by guilds. A second flag followed shortly after, unfurled in the wind. 

Prisoner return request. Then sailors pushed the chained pirates and beastmen forward to the bow. A public display. A message.

We come not to invade, but to return what was taken.

For a tense moment, nothing happened. Then a horn sounded, deep, echoing through the bay like the bellow of a giant beast. The Groves fleet did not lower weapons, but they didn’t attack either.

Which meant negotiations opened. Rathen exhaled and shot Ludger a sideways look. “You really planned ahead for this.”

Ludger, leaning casually on the railing like the entire bay wasn’t one wrong move from war, answered without looking away from the fleet.

“You give me too much credit.”

He shrugged lightly. “I thought of it yesterday. While playing with the golem.”

Rathen blinked. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“You came up with a diplomatic hostage-release strategy, while playing with a toy.”

Ludger nodded. Kaela barked a laugh. Maurien simply shook his head, resigned.

Rathen stared at Ludger like he was looking at a strange species. “Spending too much time with nobles?”

Ludger frowned. “…I avoided nobles whenever possible.”

“Then you’re just naturally terrifying,” Rathen sighed.

The flagship crept forward under slow wind, hundreds of beastmen eyes locked on them. Tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Even the sea felt like it held a breath.

Vorak stood at the front, head high despite chains, showing he came willingly. His presence alone was a shield against misunderstanding. Ludger’s mind ran cold calculations.

Numbers. Distances. Mana signatures. Escape routes. Negotiation was step one. Conversation, step two. Mapping enemies, step three.

If anyone shot first… He would strike back faster. But for now? He stood still. Calm. Waiting. And the Primal Groves watched him back. The game board was set.

The standoff stretched across the water like a held breath, until ripples broke the stillness.

A smaller vessel detached from the front of the beastmen fleet, gliding toward the flagship with deliberate confidence. It wasn’t a warship, just a narrow canoe-like craft made of darkwood. At its bow fluttered a black banner marked with a silver direwolf, fangs bared, eyes painted with crimson pigment.

One of the Groves clans. Vorak stiffened slightly. Not fear, recognition.

Standing at the front of the boat was a wolfman, tall, broad-shouldered, fur ash-gray with streaks of white like battle scars. His eyes were pale gold, intelligent and cold. Armor made of bone plates and moss-covered hide wrapped his torso, runes burned into his belt in old beastman script. But he was not alone.

Beside him stood warriors of mixed tribes, a boar with carved tusk-rings, a lean panther woman with ink-black fur, a red-haired human wearing tribal beads, and even a hawk beastkin with feathers braided into her hair. Different species. Same clan. Unified under one banner.

Not a random patrol. A chosen delegation.

Their oars moved in eerie silence; even the water seemed to quiet for them. When they reached speaking distance, no greeting was called. No threat voiced. The leader simply raised his chin and stared up at the deck like a judge appraising criminals, or equals.

Rathen inhaled deeply through his nose. “Here we go,” he muttered, then signaled his men.

A rope stair was thrown down, thick knots hitting the hull with a dull thud. The wolfman made no gesture to his followers, he climbed first, claws gripping rope like steel hooks. The others followed with fluid grace, silent and disciplined.

No wasted breath. No fear climbing onto an enemy flagship. That alone said much.

As their boots thudded onto deck planks, tension coiled across the ship like a drawn bowstring. Beastmen eyes scanned every cannon, every chain, every corner. Hands never left weapon hilts.

Ludger watched them approach, unreadable, but with his mana already flowing subtly beneath his skin. Quiet. Ready.

The wolfman’s gaze landed directly on Vorak, chained near the railing. His jaw tightened. Vorak stared back, neither deferent nor defiant. Silent recognition passed like a blade between them. Rathen stepped forward first, diplomatic posture straight and formal.

“Welcome aboard. We carry prisoners of your land, alive, fed, and with terms to discuss.”

The wolfman finally spoke, voice deep, guttural, yet remarkably controlled.

“You sail a pirate flagship. Into Groves waters. With runic weapons. And you speak of discussion?”

Kaela’s smile sharpened. Renvar swallowed hard. Maurien’s aura stilled like a coiled storm.

Before Rathen could answer, all eyes shifted to Ludger, because the wolfman’s gaze now rested on him, curious and assessing.

The boy vice guildmaster met it without blinking. Diplomacy had officially begun.

Thank you for reading!

Don’t forget to follow, favorite, and rate. If you want to read 300 chapters ahead, you can check my patreon: /Comedian0

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep