The morning air buzzed with anticipation as the carriage rolled through the capital. People crowded the streets, leaning over balconies and stacking crates to see over rows of heads. Hawkers sold scraps of cloth marked with makeshift lion paw symbols, Lionsguard colors, shouting prices far above sanity. Children reenacted yesterday’s blows in the dust, kicking wildly, swinging imaginary swords, and laughing like the arena was a playground rather than a battlefield.

The whole city hummed with excitement for another spectacle. They wanted more impossible feats, more ridiculous showmanship, more shock and awe. They expected insanity in the arena, violence wrapped in glory.

What they didn’t expect, what they didn’t even imagine, was that in private chambers, behind velvet curtains, plans were already turning like gears. Alliances forming. Guildmasters scheming. Power shifting. Ludger watched the city blur by through the carriage window, face unreadable.

He wasn’t walking today. With yesterday’s display, crowds would drag him to the arena on their shoulders if given the chance. So instead, he traveled in one of Torvares’s armored carriages, a polished dark wood frame reinforced with embedded froststeel plates, pulled by four horses and flanked by mounted guards.

Inside sat Elaine with the twins bouncing on either side of her, Arslan across from Ludger with arms folded like an old mountain, and Torvares seated near the window, posture straight, brows thoughtful. Viola lounged with her sword across her knees, sharing quiet glances with Luna, who sat beside her.

Luna had arrived only that morning. Dust clung to her dark clothes, and her hair was wind-tangled from rooftop travel. Ever since she’d set foot in the capital, she’d slipped into the shadows, tracking whispers, following clues, gathering the invisible pieces no one else had the eyes or training to see. Now she delivered what she’d found.

“Three guildmasters visited Varkas in the hospital late last night,” Luna said, her voice low but clear.

Elaine stiffened slightly, and Arslan glanced at Torvares, who grimaced faintly, confirmation, not surprise.

Luna continued.

“By early this morning, Ashbound Compact submitted paperwork for three new combatants.”

Viola frowned deeply.

“They still had fighters left?”

Luna shook her head.

“Not theirs. Nobody recognized the names. Not the healers. Not the spectators. Not the guild liaisons.”

The carriage groaned as it turned onto the main thoroughfare toward the arena. Ludger narrowed his eyes, tapping lightly against the window frame as the city rolled past.

Three new fighters. Names no one knew. And three powerful guildmasters visiting Varkas beforehand. Pieces aligned.

If the capital wanted another show, they would get one. But they would be blind to the truth,  that today’s duel was no longer a contest. It was plotting.

Torvares turned away from the window, folding his hands with the same deliberate care he used for everything, from war strategy to morning tea. His eyes met Ludger’s, steady and thoughtful beneath the warm glow of the carriage lamps.

“This,” he said, voice smooth but edged with experience, “is what you must grow accustomed to. Strength frightens people, Ludger. When confronted with someone they cannot overpower, they do not retreat to the training grounds, they retreat to the shadows.”

The carriage jolted slightly as it crossed uneven stone, but Torvares continued unfazed.

“Schemers will always reach for back doors, legal loopholes, hidden alliances, bought loyalties. They will twist rules. They will move pieces in secret. They will plant traps and sabotage reputations. And they will do all of it with a smile.”

His gaze softened a fraction.

“Raw power alone cannot deal with them. Today is a lesson in that reality.”

Ludger listened quietly, arms crossed, eyes unfocused on the opposite wall. He felt no resentment toward the advice, it was sound, valuable, but the logic behind it grated against something deep and stubborn in him.

For a brief second, a different response hovered on the edge of his tongue:

Violence is always the answer, if you bring enough of it.

But the twins sat beside him, wide-eyed and bouncing with excitement over the upcoming match. He could practically feel Elaine’s maternal radar angled toward him like a drawn bowstring. Saying something incendiary here would trigger lectures. Probably multiple.

So Ludger swallowed the joke and instead spoke with dry calm.

“People who love hiding behind curtains eventually run out of space to run,” he said. “And breaking their clever little plans one at a time should be entertaining enough.”

He shifted his gaze toward the ceiling as the horses clopped on.

“If they’re asking for trouble, I might as well target their labyrinths later too. This will only make my job easier.”

Torvares’s brows rose, just slightly, but he smiled, amused despite himself.

Across from them, Arslan watched his son with a half-smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. He opened his mouth, paused, then pressed it shut again.

Because the line that had risen, uninvited, was:

You want to collect labyrinths more than I ever collected girlfriends.

It hovered, vivid and ridiculous, begging to be spoken aloud. But Elaine sat beside him with the calm, silent intensity of a mountain that did not tolerate avalanches, especially those caused by her husband’s mouth.

Arslan looked at her. Elaine raised a single eyebrow. The man swallowed his words so fast he nearly choked on them.

Viola shifted in her seat, the fingers of one hand ghosting along the hilt of her sword. Her eyes narrowed with focused thought.

“Do you think there’s a chance we can tie these schemers to the Rodericks and Verk?” she asked. “Three mysterious fighters showing up overnight, all from guilds that normally avoid open conflict, it feels connected.”

Her voice wasn’t anxious, just sharp with instinct. Viola had always been good at seeing patterns where others saw noise. Ludger leaned back against the carriage wall, the wheels rumbling beneath them.

“Varik already said he’s digging into it,” Ludger replied. “He’s been running on fumes trying to keep the Silver Talon Order from collapsing after Rodericks torched half the senate. They’re still dealing with political fallout. Step one is making sure the government doesn’t fall apart. Step two is figuring out who kicked the cracks in the first place.”

He rubbed his thumb against his palm, expression tightening.

“And now they have to look into three guilds who suddenly woke up and decided to pull strings like aristocrats. That’s not going to be easy. It’ll take time.”

Viola sighed through her nose, gaze drifting to the window.

Time was the one thing enemies always seemed to have more of than allies.

Torvares, seated across from both of them, nodded thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth twitching with a wry smile.

“Our network never uncovered anything useful about those guilds,” he admitted. His tone was calm, but there was a weight to it, something shaped by years of experience. “But then again, our informants rarely look to guilds at all.”

Elaine tilted her head, curiosity sparking beneath her calm expression.

“Why not?” she asked.

Torvares laced his fingers together.

“Because most schemes in the capital begin with nobles. They have land to protect, wealth to hoard, and reputations so fragile a strong breeze could ruin them.”

He gave a small shrug.

“Adventurers, on the other hand, usually care about monsters, contracts, and coin. Their guilds aren’t known for subtlety or politics.”

A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.

“Until now.”

Arslan, who had been staring pensively out the window, snorted.

“Times change. Trouble changes with it.”

Torvares inclined his head.

“And now, guilds are acting like nobles, forming alliances, trading favors, hiding the names of fighters, moving pieces in secret. That is new, and dangerous.”

The carriage rolled on, the arena drawing closer with every turn. Outside, crowds surged with excitement, cheering and waving banners, blissfully unaware of the political storm gathering just out of sight.

Inside the carriage, however, the mood had turned sharper. Focused. Aware. This wasn’t just another day of duels. It was another layer of a plan unfolding in silence, and their enemies were no longer waiting outside the walls.

When the carriage finally rolled to a halt outside the arena gates, the sound of the waiting crowd washed over them in a steady wave—cheers, chants, and excited shouting echoing through the stone corridors. It was louder than yesterday. Louder than any morning crowd had a right to be.

Elaine turned to Ludger before he stepped down, expression calm but eyes sharp with a mother’s scrutiny. She brushed a thumb across a bit of dried clay on his cheek, the gesture tender despite the battlefield waiting ahead.

“Be careful,” she told him softly. “If you start to feel tired, leave the arena and let your father do some work for once.”

Arslan let out a laugh that was a little too loud and far too forced.

“Very funny,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ludger smirked. Elaine didn’t.

He stepped down from the carriage and Arslan followed, stretching his shoulders as though preparing to take the lead, though the slight nervous glance toward the arena betrayed him. He clapped a hand on Ludger’s arm.

“Listen,” Arslan said, voice low. “Yesterday’s spectacle put you in every mind in this city. Those guildmasters would’ve studied every movement they saw.”

He leaned closer, expression darkening.

“They may not be able to beat you today, but they might not be trying to. They could be gathering information, watching how you react, how you move, how you block, how you hit. Today might be a bait. If they gather enough data, they’ll come back tomorrow with something worse.”

Elaine stiffened at the thought. Viola frowned. Even Torvares’s brow creased.

Ludger nodded once. It was sound logic, and exactly the sort of thing schemers loved: a losing battle today, a winning war tomorrow.

He stepped out onto the walkway leading to the arena, boots stirring faint dust. The cheers of the capital swelled as his figure came into view, voices rolling over him like ocean surf. He paused at the edge of sunlight, tilting his head upward.

The morning sky stretched wide above him, blue, calm, too peaceful for the day’s purpose. He let out a slow sigh, shoulders rising and falling beneath the weight of decisions he hadn’t yet made. At this point, one thought flickered through his mind:

Would enough violence actually solve most of my problems?

Punching the schemers into the dirt was tempting. Ending things with decisive brutality was tempting. It was simple. Clean. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work. But the longer he stared at the vast sky, the more he realized today wouldn’t be that simple. Not anymore.

The arena waited. The crowd roared. Enemies schemed. And Ludger stepped forward to meet all of it.

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