Kaela looked around, eyebrow raised. “This wasn’t here last time.”

Maurien knelt near a crate, brushing away dust. None came off.

“New wood. Two, maybe three days old.”

Harkun coughed once more, staring up at vents leaking grey mist into the air. “You humans live like this?”

Renvar shrugged weakly. “We adapt.”

Sivra muttered, “Or die early.”

Ludger ignored the crates for now. If Linne and Dalan put them here, they had a reason. If someone else did…

They’d find out soon. He exhaled, lowering his pack.

“We stay here until they show up. They always come eventually.”

Kaela leaned against a column, arms behind head. “You think they’re using this as a warehouse now?”

Ludger shrugged once. “Their base. Their rules. As long as it doesn’t explode, I won’t complain.”

Maurien chuckled quietly. “Bold to assume it won’t explode.”

Ludger scratched his chin, eyes narrowing at a crate marked with an unfamiliar rune, faint blue paint, too fresh.

“…If it does,” he said, “we throw the pieces at someone.”

No one argued. Now they waited. In a foreign city. In a secret den. With beastmen breathing poison and crates filled with unknown cargo. Silence settled thick as the dust they’d displaced entering. 

They hadn’t been waiting long, maybe twenty minutes, when footsteps echoed from the staircase above, light but hurried, carrying that familiar metallic clatter of tool belts. Everyone turned at once. Ragan’s hand brushed his axe haft. Sivra’s feathers tightened like drawn arrows. Kaela rested her palm on a dagger. Maurien simply watched, eyes already calculating wind flow.

Two silhouettes appeared against the dim torchlight of the corridor.

Then Linne and Dalan stepped fully into view, goggles on foreheads, coats specked with grease, and expressions shifting immediately when they recognized Ludger.

“Ludger!” Linne grinned wide, relief and amusement both. “I had a feeling you’d crawl back into our lives eventually. Things get calm when you disappear. Too calm.”

Dalan snorted. “Calm makes us nervous. And broke. We expected explosions, not… silence.”

Their smiles froze when they noticed the rest of the group, specifically the three beastmen standing beside Ludger like predators in a forge factory.

“…You brought company,” Linne said slowly.

“Very… unusual company,” Dalan added, eyes flicking between Ragan’s mane, Harkun’s height, and Sivra’s wings.

Harkun stood tall, impassive. Sivra tilted her head like a hawk sizing prey. Ragan gave a grunt that could mean many things.

Kaela rolled her eyes. “Relax. If they wanted to kill you, the stairs would’ve stayed quiet.”

Maurien stepped aside so Ludger could move forward, and he did, concise, direct.

“We ran into pirates,” Ludger began. “Runic cannons, reinforced hulls, organized equipment. We took their ships and prisoners. One of them talked.” His gaze flicked briefly to each engineer. “They’re connected to an underworld guild in the Primal Groves. Someone is stirring trouble between nations.”

Linne’s expression lost its humor instantly. Dalan’s hand landed on his toolbelt, jaw tightening. Ludger continued, unblinking.

“We’re here because beastmen have been disappearing. Not random, skilled ones. We suspect slavery routes leading through Velis territory. We came to investigate. These three were sent by their Elders to collaborate.”

He gestured to Ragan, Harkun, and Sivra.

“They’re under Lionsguard authority. They follow commands. But they came to find their people.”

The beastmen didn’t speak, they didn’t need to. Their eyes carried enough weight to fill the room.

Linne exhaled, rubbing his face. “So you’re hunting traffickers now. Great. Of course you are. Why would life be simple?”

Dalan ran a hand down one of the crates, humming in thought. “And you came through rooftops instead of the gates. Respectable choice.”

Ragan finally spoke, voice deep and rumbling.

“We were told humans of inventors here know runes. Know traps. Know secrets. We want truth. We want scent of those who steal our young.”

Sivra’s voice followed, soft but sharp. “And we want it soon.”

Linne and Dalan exchanged a meaningful glance, not fear, but calculation.

Then Linne sighed, stepping closer to Ludger.

“You really don’t do small problems, do you?”

Ludger shrugged once. “Small problems grow if ignored.”

Dalan chuckled dryly. “So you came to cut weeds at the root.”

Ludger nodded.

“Exactly.”

Silence settled again, this time thick with anticipation rather than uncertainty. Above them, Coria’s forges hissed like sleeping dragons, unaware that hunters now crept in their shadows.

Linne tapped a crate and forced a grin.

“Well,” he said, “if you came for trouble—”

Dalan finished for him.

“—you chose the right city.”

Renvar stepped forward, dropping his backpack onto the stone floor with a heavy thud. He opened it wide and began laying out items one by one, each piece of runic gear clinking sharply against the table in the center of the chamber.

“These were the strangest ones we found,” he said, more serious than usual. “We couldn’t carry everything, but these stood out the most.”

The weapons looked like they belonged in an assassin’s museum rather than a pirate deck:

A whip of braided steel threads, runes etched along every strand. Faint sparks crawled across its surface as Renvar unfurled it.

A sword that could extend, the blade splitting into chained segments like a flexible nunchaku, each piece engraved with tiny movement runes.

And lastly, a massive iron club, thick as a tree trunk… yet when Kaela lifted it, she nearly flung it upward by accident from how light it was.

Ragan’s eyes widened faintly. Harkun frowned. Sivra tilted her head, feathers rustling. Ludger watched Linne and Dalan closely as the two engineers leaned over the weapons.

Linne adjusted his goggles and hummed, running a thumb across the whip’s enchantments. Dalan took the expanding sword apart, piece by piece, inspecting chain links with surgical care.

Minutes passed in silence, only interrupted by low muttering and the sound of metal being tested. Finally Linne straightened, exhaling through his nose.

“These runes… yeah. Velis work, no doubt.”

Dalan nodded beside him. “Style, structure, layering technique,  definitely local craftsmanship. But…”

He frowned, tapping a specific symbol.

“They’re scrubbed. Whoever made these removed workshop signatures and maker runes. No trace of academy crest, forge mark, or guild stamp.”

Kaela crossed her arms. “So someone here is selling black-market enchantments.”

Ragan snarled low in his throat, tail lashing. Harkun’s expression darkened to storm clouds. Sivra’s feathers stood like blades.

Ludger felt their tension sharpen the air. If they’d come all the way here just to hit another dead end…

Then Linne hesitated, and that hesitance meant something.

“There’s more,” he said quietly.

Everyone looked at him. Even the beastmen froze. Dalan placed the segmented sword down, tone suddenly heavier.

“We didn’t say earlier because we weren’t sure. But if you’re dealing with vanishings…”

Linne nodded grimly and continued.

“Some people in Velis have disappeared too.”

Silence hit like a stone dropped down a well. Kaela’s smile vanished. Maurien’s jaw tightened. Renvar stopped fidgeting entirely. Ludger didn’t move — but something behind his eyes sharpened.

“Who?” he asked.

Linne and Dalan exchanged a glance before answering.

“Engineers,” Dalan said. “Runesmith apprentices. Anyone working with mana circuitry or metal enhancement research. Not a lot, but enough people noticed.”

Linne clenched a fist.

“And just like in the Groves, young, talented, promising individuals.”

Ragan’s growl deepened. Harkun’s claws pressed into the table wood. Sivra’s wings half-spread with hatred. Ludger’s voice was steady as iron.

“So it’s not just beastman.”

Maurien finished softly:

“They’re collecting specialists.”

Kidnappers weren’t selling slaves, they were recruiting forced talent. For an army. For a faction. For something built in the shadows. Ludger felt the puzzle click, and the danger quadruple. Someone was building power using the stolen potential of three nations.

No wonder the trail was quiet. No wonder no evidence surfaced. The enemy wasn’t sloppy, they were surgical. Linne leaned closer.

“If you want answers, Coria’s guild quarter is the only place with runes this advanced. But getting in legally will take weeks of approval.”

Dalan smirked darkly.

“And getting in illegally takes a day, a few explosions, and probably a bounty.”

Kaela smirked back. “So option two.”

Ludger didn’t smile.

He simply said:

“We’re not leaving this city empty-handed.”

Linne lifted both hands as if warding off an incoming fireball.

“Hold on. Before you go breaking into guild vaults or runesmiths, just listen for a second.”

Dalan nodded vigorously. “We get it. You hate bureaucracy. Honestly, so do we. But Coria isn’t some backwater village. If you start cracking skulls here, you’ll get the entire Academy Council breathing down your neck. And trust me, those old bastards breathe fire, paperwork, and assassination requests.”

Kaela laughed under her breath. Maurien didn’t. Ludger crossed his arms, unimpressed. He’d heard enough warnings in his short lifetime to fill a book.

“I’m not staying away from home for another month just because officials like stamping papers,” he said flatly. “My guild needs me. My people need me. My family needs me. I’m not waiting for meetings and approvals while kidnappers move their pawns.”

It was a fair stance. A Ludger stance.

Linne winced, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. That is a very reasonable point. Horrifying, but reasonable.”

Dalan sighed and leaned on the crate. “But impressions matter here. If you start barging into research districts, they’ll treat the Lionsguard as hostile. And once they paint you as a foreign threat? That stain doesn’t wash off.”

Kaela shrugged. “We could always wash it off with blood.”

Linne stared at her like she personally offended mathematics. “Please stop helping.”

Maurien leaned forward, voice calm and authoritative in that way only a high-ranked mage could manage.

“We shouldn’t be reckless. This trail is thin. If we burn bridges now, the city closes its doors. And a closed city is a fortress, not a hunt ground.”

Dalan pointed at her as if she were a thesis paper. “Exactly! We need leverage, information, or favors first. Something valuable to trade for access into guild records.”

Ludger’s jaw flexed. He wasn’t angry, just thinking. Hard.

“And how do we know the people we negotiate with aren’t already compromised?” he asked quietly. “How do we know they’re not working with the Rodericks, Verk, or whoever else is orchestrating this from the shadows?”

A long silence fell. Not dismissive. Not stubborn. The kind of silence where everyone realizes the question cuts deeper than expected. Linne finally exhaled through his nose, expression softening but grim.

“…We don’t.”

Dalan’s shoulders lowered. “And that’s the problem. We don’t know who is friend or enemy here.”

The beastmen listened silently, and subtly, even though they looked troubled. Sivra’s wings twitched. Ragan’s claws tapped the table. Harkun’s jaw clenched as names like Verk and Rodericks were spoken, names that crossed borders.

Linne continued, slower this time.

“But even so… we still need to think things through. If we rush this, we might chase ghosts while the real enemy moves behind us. We need strategy, not just power.”

Dalan nodded firmly.

“If we get our hands on even one clue, one shipment list, one guild ledger, one suspicious workshop, we could bargain with another guild branch. Make allies. Trade favors. Build a network instead of burning one.”

Maurien smirked slightly. “In other words, use brains before fists.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t dismissing it.

He was listening.

Because though he hated it, they were right. Slavers, runesmiths, underworld guilds, missing beastmen and Velis engineers… If he kicked the wrong door first, the real enemy might simply shift operations and vanish again.

He needed to strike once. Hard. And at the correct target.

Finally, Ludger spoke.

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