Over the next few days, it kept happening. Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just… steadily.

Ludger didn’t seek the jobs out. He helped where he was needed, watched how people worked, asked questions, and tried things himself when invited. The system responded the same way every time, quiet recognition.

None of the bonuses were impressive. That was fine. He wasn’t doing this to make himself stronger.

He was building foundations, things he could later teach, once he understood them well enough to pass on without causing harm.

Job Unlocked: Woodworker — Lv. 1

Bonus per Level: +1 STR, +1 DEX

Skills: [Material Familiarity Lv.1]

Improves understanding of wood grain, stress points, and natural weaknesses.

He earned that one after spending an afternoon helping repair carts damaged by cold. Nothing fancy. Just learning why certain joints failed and others didn’t.

Job Unlocked: Farmer — Lv. 1

Bonus per Level: +2 VIT

Skills: [Crop Timing Lv.1]

Slightly increases efficiency when planting or harvesting at optimal times.

That one came naturally.

He’d already seen how mana watering changed the land. Learning the mundane side, the slow, patient work—filled in the gaps.

Job Unlocked: Herbalist — Lv. 1

Bonus per Level: +2 WIS

Skills: [Plant Identification Lv.1]

Identifies common medicinal and poisonous plants.

That one mattered more than it looked.

Not every injury needed a healer. Not every illness justified burning mana. Simple remedies saved lives long before magic did. Ludger reviewed the jobs once, then dismissed the interface.

The bonuses were small. The levels would rise slowly. Good. These weren’t paths for power. They were paths for people.

He would wait before teaching them, until he understood them well enough to explain the why, not just the how. But the groundwork was there. And Lionfang would be stronger for it, even if no one ever noticed the system lines behind it.

At the end of the week, Ludger met his father in the guildmaster’s office.

The room smelled faintly of ink, old wood, and the kind of quiet tension that came from planning things no one else was allowed to know about. Arslan stood behind the desk, arms crossed, studying a spread of papers while the late afternoon light filtered through the narrow window.

Ludger stepped in without ceremony. Arslan slid one of the sheets across the desk.

“These are the groups,” he said. “Recon only. No deep engagement. No heroics.”

Ludger picked it up and scanned the list. He nodded when he reached the usual suspects.

“Expected,” Ludger said.

“Unfortunately,” Arslan replied.

Ludger set the paper down.

“And Torvares?” he asked.

Arslan’s expression tightened.

“Nothing,” he said. “No updates. No warning. No reassurance.”

Ludger leaned against the wall, arms folding as his thoughts turned inward.

“That’s not like him,” Ludger said. “When he delays, he usually tells us why.”

Arslan nodded.

“Which means one of three things,” he said. “He’s negotiating from a weak position. He’s dealing with too many parties at once. Or he’s deliberately not committing anything to paper.”

Ludger considered each option.

“If it’s weakness,” Ludger said, “someone is pushing back harder than expected. Enough that even his name doesn’t end the discussion.”

“And if it’s the second,” Arslan added, “then he’s juggling nobles who don’t trust each other and are all trying to extract concessions.”

Ludger exhaled slowly.

“And the third option?”

Arslan’s eyes hardened.

“Then the information itself is dangerous,” he said. “Dangerous enough that writing it down would give someone leverage if intercepted.”

Silence settled between them. Ludger stared at the labyrinth markers on the map.

“Or,” Ludger said quietly, “he’s waiting to see who moves first.”

Arslan looked at him.

“Yes,” he said. “That too.”

If Torvares pushed too early, the guilty would hide. If he waited, they might expose themselves trying to secure their positions. Ludger nodded.

“That means we proceed without his confirmation,” he said. “Slowly. Quietly.”

Arslan allowed himself a small, grim smile.

“You always did prefer preparation over permission.”

Ludger returned the smile faintly.

“If Torvares contacts us tomorrow,” he said, “good. If not—”

“We’ll already be in position,” Arslan finished.

Outside the office, Lionfang continued to grow. And somewhere beyond its walls, people were realizing that time was no longer on their side.

Ludger let the silence sit for a moment. Then he changed the subject.

“And the three Torvares sent,” he said. “What are they up to?”

Arslan looked up from the desk, momentarily caught off guard.

“…Rowan, Jennifer, and Eclaire?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“They should be training in the frost labyrinth,” Arslan replied. “They’ve been doing that almost every day since they joined. Mostly shallow routes. Controlled exposure.”

Ludger frowned. He’d spent a significant amount of time in the frost labyrinth over the last few weeks. First zone. Second zone. Even parts of the third. He knew the traffic patterns. He knew who went in, who came out, and when.

He hadn’t seen them. Not once.

“I didn’t run into them,” Ludger said.

Arslan shrugged lightly.

“That’s hardly strange,” he said. “You’re… you.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow.

“Your reputation isn’t subtle,” Arslan continued. “If I were a trainee and knew you were around, I’d avoid crossing paths too. No one wants to be noticed by the person everyone compares themselves to.”

Ludger studied him carefully. Not the words, the man. Arslan met his gaze evenly. No tension. No hesitation. No hidden calculation. Just the same steady presence he’d always had. Either the act of those three had fooled him as well…

Or Arslan simply wasn’t wired to be suspicious of kids slightly older than Ludger himself. Both were plausible.

“They’ve made good progress,” Arslan added. “Quiet. Disciplined. No incidents.”

That didn’t reassure Ludger. Quiet progress was normal. Invisible progress wasn’t.

“I’ll observe more closely,” Ludger said.

Arslan nodded, unconcerned.

“As you see fit.”

Ludger didn’t press further. If his father wasn’t hiding anything, pushing now would only create noise. And noise was exactly what careful people avoided. He turned back to the papers on the desk, but his thoughts stayed elsewhere.

Three names. Consistent absence. Clean reports. Either they were exactly what they appeared to be… Or they were very good at not appearing at all.

Ludger was halfway through considering how to force the issue.

Surround them. Not aggressively—just presently. Make avoidance impossible without making it obvious. Let them slip. Everyone slipped eventually.

He shelved the thought as he returned to his room.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Something was wrong. Ludger stopped. There was a piece of paper on his desk. No seal. No crest. No courier tag. That alone was enough to put him on edge.

He approached slowly, senses stretching, not for traps, but for intent. There was none. No mana residue. No ward. Just paper, folded once, placed carefully where he couldn’t miss it.

Off.

He only expected messages like this from one person. Ludger unfolded it. His frown deepened as he read. The wording was unmistakable.

Ludger,

Since your return, security around sealed labyrinths has tightened across multiple guilds and noble families.

Guard rotations have doubled. Internal access lists are being revised. Several “maintenance seals” have been reinforced without official justification.

They are preparing. For what, I cannot yet say, but this is not a coincidence. The timing is too clean.

I have sent inquiries through appropriate channels. None have replied. That silence is deliberate. I am considering direct contact, but circumstances complicate matters. Viola has left to visit Lucius Hakuen, and any visible communication with you at this moment would only confirm their suspicions.

If I move openly, they will raise their guards further. For now, observe. Prepare. Do not force confrontation unless necessary. I will act when doing so creates less noise than silence. Erase this letter as you are done reading it.

—T.

Ludger folded the letter slowly.No seal. No signature beyond an initial. That meant Torvares didn’t want this traced at all. Which meant things were already worse than he’d been willing to write.

Ludger sat down, eyes narrowing.Security tightening. Silence. Reinforced seals. And three trainees who never crossed his path. He exhaled through his nose. Forcing them now would be a mistake.

If Torvares was right, everyone was already watching for sudden movements. Ludger leaned back in his chair.

So. The board was set. And someone had just confirmed that the enemy knew it too.

Ludger chose to wait.

Not because he lacked options—but because every option carried weight, and weight made ripples. The movements around the sealed labyrinths hadn’t just exposed potential enemies. They’d also shifted the light in uncomfortable ways. Torvares’ silence, his careful distance, the lack of direct coordination—it all made the old lord look… ambiguous.

Ludger didn’t like that.

He didn’t want to believe that the grandfather of his half-sister would ever stand on the wrong side of this. But Torvares was a strategist before he was a family man, and Ludger had learned the hard way that strategy didn’t always look virtuous from the outside. Anything beyond securing Viola’s future was uncertain territory. Calculated. Conditional.

So Ludger waited for the situation to evolve.

For the next few days, he acted as usual. He oversaw training. Corrected form. Helped at the forge. Walked the streets and spoke with civilians. He sang when the drills dragged and hummed when the kids grew tense. On the surface, nothing changed.

Underneath, everything had.

People noticed. Not because he was absent, but because he was present in a different way. He spoke less. When he did speak, it carried pauses that hadn’t been there before. His gaze lingered too long on details that didn’t matter to anyone else. When someone finished a sentence, he sometimes waited a heartbeat before responding, as if checking it against something only he could see.

He was thinking.

The escalation came without warning.

Yvar approached him at the edge of the training grounds, stride brisk, expression carefully controlled and still failing to hide the tension in his jaw. He didn’t interrupt the drills. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply leaned close enough to be heard.

“We need to talk,” Yvar said. “Somewhere else.”

Ludger took one look at his face and nodded. They moved away from the yard, boots crunching on gravel as the sounds of training dulled behind them. Trainees slowed unconsciously, eyes tracking their retreat. Whispers didn’t start, but curiosity settled in, heavy and expectant.

When they were far enough that no one could overhear, Ludger stopped.

“What is it?” he asked.

Yvar didn’t answer immediately.

He reached into his coat and produced a parchment, edges stiff, seal already broken. He held it out with both hands, as if weight might spill if he didn’t.

Ludger took it. His eyes moved quickly over the text.

Then his brows drew together. A vein pulsed at his temple, slow and unmistakable.

The language was clean. Administrative. Polite to the point of offense. It spoke of procedural review, of shared responsibility, of ensuring continued stability in the region.

And buried beneath all of that… The competency of the Lionsguard in guarding the froststeel labyrinth was being formally contested.

Not questioned. Not reassessed. Contested.

Ludger folded the parchment carefully, as if tearing it would make the situation worse.

“…I see,” he said.

Yvar swallowed, then continued. “It’s not coming from one place. Multiple guilds. Oversight bodies. Requests for observers. Evaluations. Audits. They are saying that the current lack of shipments of froststeel proves that.”

He hesitated, then added, “All routed through intermediaries… it seemed that your idea to control the shipments by making them offer more backfired.”

Ludger’s grip tightened just enough to crease the paper.

So this was the next move.

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