Rathen stepped forward before the air grew too sharp, spreading his hands open, non-threatening, diplomatic.

“My name is Rathen, Guildmaster of the Ironhand Syndicate. This vessel was taken from pirates attacking our territory and Imperial seas. Rather than executing them or holding them indefinitely, we chose to return the Groves-born prisoners to their homeland, alive, unharmed, and with respect due to their origins.”

He spoke loudly so the deck, the visitors, and even the distant warships could hear.

“We wish to resolve this without igniting conflict between our nations. The Empire isn’t seeking hostility with the Primal Groves. We came to return your people, and speak about the ones who supplied them with runic arms and ships.”

His hand shifted slightly, presenting the boy beside him without flourish, just certainty.

“This is Ludger, Vice Guildmaster of the Lionsguard. The flagship is under his command.”

The wolfman’s gaze moved to Ludger again, golden eyes narrowing, not in disrespect, but in interest. Most rulers expected older men or robed mages, not a boy who stared back like carved iron.

Ludger didn’t bow, didn’t flinch. He simply nodded once, simple, direct. Rathen continued, tone measured.

“The pirates weren’t acting for the Groves alone. They worked with an underworld guild, one spreading conflict across borders. We believe you may want the same answers we do.”

Silence. Sea wind rustled fur and hair. Bowstrings flexed in the distance. Even the waves seemed to hold their breath. Finally, the wolfman stepped forward.

He placed one hand over his chest, palm to heart, a traditional beastman greeting of mutual recognition, not submission.

“I am Harkun, Claw of the Direwolf Clan, Guardian of the Eastern Roots.”

His voice rumbled like gravel under thunder. “You stand in our waters under foreign colors, wielding one of our criminals like a shield. That alone should earn arrows.”

Kaela’s fingers twitched to her dagger. Maurien’s mana darkened like storm clouds.

Harkun continued.

“But you returned them alive. Fed. Bound in honor instead of rot. That speaks louder than flags.”

His eyes flicked to Vorak, chained, but alive.

“Some among us believed the Empire wished our youth dead.”

His gaze sharpened at Ludger. “Today, you prove doubt exists. Doubt is a seed.”

Vorak exhaled slowly, relief mixed with caution. Harkun turned back to Rathen and Ludger.

“Speak your conditions. Tell us why you come openly instead of releasing them silently on the shore like cowards.”

Rathen inhaled to answer, but Ludger raised a hand calmly, stepping forward.

Twelve years old. Simple clothes. Unimpressed expression. Yet every warrior watched him. Because despite the fleets, the clans, the weapons, Ludger had walked into the Groves by choice.

When he spoke, it wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. Every beastman on the deck heard him.

“We’re seeking information,” Ludger said, tone even. “Not tribute, not favors. We want to know who among the Groves is provoking conflict between our three nations.”

Harkun’s ears twitched. The warriors behind him stiffened.

Ludger continued, eyes steady, voice clinical like he was reading a report rather than threatening two countries.

“We know the underworld guild Vorak belongs to. We know they supplied pirate crews, and that someone funded runic arms and ships. We want to know how your clans plan to deal with them, because if they continue, this won’t stay a border issue.”

He paused just long enough for tension to coil.

“And we want names. Clans or factions who’ve been speaking with outsiders.”

Maurien’s gaze sharpened approvingly. Kaela grinned like she’d been starving for this level of audacity. Renvar just swallowed.

Harkun’s eyes narrowed with the weight of unspoken politics.

“You ask us to give you information on our own dissidents,” he said slowly. “To reveal which clans have outside contact. You requested something with teeth.”

Ludger didn’t blink. His answer came like cold steel sliding free.

“You’re right.”

Harkun’s gaze sharpened.

“Then answer me this, young guildmaster, why do you want that knowledge? Why should the Groves share its internal wounds with you?”

Ludger didn’t hesitate.

“Because if your clans take too long handling it,” he said quietly, “I will.”

The words fell like stones into still water. No shout. No bravado. Just a statement of fact.

Kaela’s smile widened in delight at the shock rippling through the visiting warriors. Maurien’s lips quirked in subtle approval. Rathen pinched the bridge of his nose, fully aware that this was now beyond his negotiation paygrade.

Harkun stared at Ludger, golden eyes locked onto the boy who stood before him like someone who had already measured consequence and accepted cost.

“You would hunt them?” Harkun asked.

“If they put my friends or the lionsguard business at risk again, yes.”

Ludger’s voice didn’t rise. It hardened.

“We gave back your warriors alive. We honored our word. But the next group who tries to start a war won’t be returned.”

A low growl rolled through beastman throats, not anger, but acknowledgement. Warriors respect conviction. Especially one that doesn’t hide behind politics.

Vorak stared at Ludger then looked away, shame mixing with respect. Harkun studied the boy a moment longer, then exhaled.

“You speak like thunder with a child’s voice,” he murmured. “Dangerous. But honest.”

His hand lifted, two fingers raised. A signal.

The warships in the bay did not lower arms, but their bows dipped. A subtle shift from ready to fire to ready to speak.

Harkun stepped closer.

“Very well, Ludger,” he said. “We will take you to Eastriver Post, where the clans gather to negotiate disputes. If the Elders do not bite your head off, they will answer you.”

Kaela whispered, “That’s practically a compliment.”

Maurien murmured, “It means we aren’t getting shot today.”

Rathen let out a long sigh of relief, then flinched as Harkun finished.

“But know this,” the wolfman said. “If you seek to solve our problems for us, make sure you understand exactly whose war you step into. Beastmen do not forget favors… or trespasses.”

Ludger nodded once.

“I’m counting on that.”

The path forward was opening, dangerous, political, blood-scented. And Ludger walked toward it without fear.

As preparations for docking began, sailors moved quickly, lowering sails, adjusting ropes, securing cargo nets. The prisoners were chained in visible formation near the bow, exactly where the Groves fleet could see them. A calculated declaration:

We came to return them, not hide them. Flags flapped in the strong coastal wind. Beastmen warships shifted formation, not aggressively, but like wolves escorting prey to a den for judgment.

Renvar stood near the railing, watching the fleet close in. His hand rested on his sword, not from intent to draw it, just comfort against nerves.

“So…” he said carefully, glancing back at Ludger, then Rathen, then the mountain of warships. “We’re really doing this? Just… walking into their port? And leaving the ship behind?”

Rathen answered before Ludger could.

“Even if we didn’t leave it behind,” he explained, voice steady but edged with caution, “we’d still be surrounded by at least three dozen war vessels. We could escape if we tried, maybe, but it wouldn’t be quick, or clean.”

He pointed toward the warships in the distance. Their decks bristled with spears and archers, rune-carved javelins ready for thunder. The living-wood hulls pulsed faintly with natural mana.

“And you need to remember,” Rathen continued, “they know Vorak’s crew. They know what they were capable of. If they see us return them alive instead of as corpses, it sends a message.”

Kaela nodded. “A message that we’re not here to pick a fight.”

Maurien crossed his arms, calm as a still pond. “And that we believe in our own strength enough not to fear walking into their den.”

Renvar’s throat bobbed. “That sounds… bold. Very bold.”

Ludger’s tone was neutral as he secured his gear belt. “It proves we came to speak. Not raid.”

Rathen let out a slow breath and added, “And if they wanted to attack us, they already had the chance. A dozen times over. The fact we’re still afloat means they want to talk.”

Renvar wasn’t fully comforted, but he straightened his back, letting the reality settle.

“So we just go,” he said quietly. “Into a foreign port with a fleet at our backs.”

Kaela slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him overboard.

“Relax. Worst case, we run. Luds would stay behind to give us time to leave.”

Maurien flicked her a look. “A poetic way to say we’ll be chased by a hundred angry beastmen with spears.

”

Kaela grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time, that I was chased by anyone.”

Renvar paled again.

Ludger stepped to the front of the deck, gaze fixed on the port ahead. Colossal trees curved inward like gates carved by nature. The dock was built from living roots entwined with stone, ancient, primal, intimidating.

Beastmen archers lined the ridge above, eyes glinting like predators sizing up prey.Yet Ludger stood there without fear. Because fear didn’t guide him. Purpose did.

And as the anchor dropped and the massive flagship slowly glided into the Groves port, one truth became undeniable. They weren’t guests. They were a force arriving with proof, prisoners, and questions that demanded answers. Negotiation was no longer just an option. It was the path forward.

The moment the anchor hit water and the gangplank lowered, beastmen warriors moved. They disembarked from the smaller boats in coordinated formation, spears angled downward, eyes locked on every prisoner. Their steps were light, controlled, predatory.

No shouting. No chaos. Just quiet, efficient authority. The Groves did not need to flaunt power. They were power.

Rathen stepped back to allow the exchange. One by one, the pirate-beastmen were handed over. Shackles were removed and replaced with Groves-bound restraints, woven bark that tightened when pulled, flexible as muscle, impossible to break without mana and a lot of strength.

Vorak was last. He paused at the gangplank, turning back toward Ludger. For a heartbeat, predator eyes met predator eyes. Ludger didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. He simply stared, calm, still, unblinking. A silent message sharpened into a blade.

If we fight again… you won’t walk away.

Vorak’s jaw tightened. A snort escaped, half amusement, half grudging respect. He didn’t fear death. Beastmen rarely did. But he understood it. Understood Ludger wasn’t boasting.

He nodded once, a warrior’s acknowledgement.

Then he stepped off the ship and disappeared into the custody line.

With the handover done, Harkun gestured for the group to follow. Warriors surrounded them, not hostile, but cautious. Not out of fear of attack…but out of respect for unpredictable, dangerous guests.

The forest swallowed them quickly, towering trunks, roots thicker than Ludger’s waist, moss glistening emerald under shards of sunlight. The ground was springy underfoot, alive. Birds cried overhead, distant roars echoed like thunder.

After a short walk, a structure came into view.

A watchtower, built around and into a colossal tree. Stone and wood fused with living roots. Runes glowed faintly like veins of light, pulsing with deep mana. Vines curled like serpents along carved beams. A place meant to see threats before they reached shore. And to judge strangers who crossed those waters.

Harkun paused at the base of the ramp leading up. He turned, ears flicking once—like sharpening focus.

“Beyond here,” he said, “await three Elders of the Forest Clans. They are old, older than your Empire’s current generation. They speak and judge like the old ways.”

His tone dropped lower, warning carried in every word.

“Do not expect soft words. Do not expect courtesy. They built their sits on broken steel and monster bone.”

Kaela smirked. “Sounds like home.”

Renvar swallowed hard. Maurien gave a respectful nod. Rathen adjusted his coat and whispered something about needing a drink after this. Harkun’s eyes settled on Ludger.

“They will speak bluntly. And they will expect the same. Show weakness and they will press. Show arrogance and they may bite. Show purpose…” His brow lowered slightly.

“…and they may listen.”

Ludger stepped forward, gaze calm as river stone.

“I didn’t come for courtesy.”

Harkun stared at him one heartbeat longer, then turned and led upward. The Lionsguard and Ironhand delegation followed. Up the ramp. Into the tower. Toward the Elders, and whatever judgement or alliance waited inside.

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