Hroth didn’t rush to answer.

He shifted his weight carefully, pain tugging at his ribs, then looked Ludger straight in the eyes.

“I don’t have anyone here who can vouch for me,” he said plainly. “No letters. No seals. No friendly faces you already trust.”

He spread his good hand, empty. “If I did, I wouldn’t be standing in an alley wrapped in bandages.”

Maurien didn’t move. Gaius stayed silent above. Luna remained unseen. The ward hummed softly, patient.

“But,” Hroth continued, “I do have information.”

Ludger didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

“Information that doesn’t come from far away,” Hroth said. “Not Argarthia. Not the old Empire at large. Things happening very close to you. Close enough that you probably assume they’re background noise.”

That made Ludger’s eyes narrow just a fraction.

Hroth noticed.

“I can give you that first,” he went on. “No conditions. No promises. Just something you should be aware of whether you trust me or not.”

He paused, then added casually, too casually…

“And I’ve got another piece as well. Optional.”

Ludger felt it then. Not danger. Provocation.

“That first one?” Hroth said. “It’ll make you pretty mad. Not at your enemies.”

A beat.

“At some of your allies.”

The alley felt colder.

Ludger squinted, gaze sharpening as the implications lined up in his mind. Information close to him. Then something worse, something that cut inward instead of outward. He didn’t speak right away.

He just watched Hroth, measuring the man the same way he had in the arena, looking past posture, past bravado, past damage, searching for intent.

“You’re confident,” Ludger said at last.

Hroth gave a tired, crooked smile. “I’m prepared to get punched again if I’m wrong.”

That didn’t relax anyone.

If anything, it made the silence heavier.

Ludger’s arms remained crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Start with the first one,” he said.

Because if Hroth was lying, this would be the moment it showed.

And if he wasn’t… 

Then Ludger was about to find out just how close the rot really was.

Hroth raised his good hand slightly, palm out.

“I won’t say everything,” he said. “Not yet.”

Ludger’s posture didn’t change, but the air around him hardened. His expression grew sharper, colder.

“I trust my friends,” Ludger said flatly. “And my allies.”

“I know,” Hroth replied. “That’s why I’m stopping where I am.”

He leaned back against the wall, careful of his injuries. “I’m not here to blow up your circle. Not tonight. I’m just giving you a slice of the picture, enough to make you start asking the right questions without starting a war among people who still need to work together.”

That didn’t reassure Ludger. If anything, it made him more alert. Hroth inhaled slowly, then spoke again.

“Something happened in the castle.”

The alley seemed to shrink.

“The Imperial family is in chaos,” he continued. “Has been for a while now. The official story hasn’t changed much, but behind the curtains?” He shook his head once. “It’s bad.”

Ludger felt a tightening in his chest.

“The Emperor’s been sick for over a year,” Hroth said. “Not public. Not declared. Just… deteriorating.”

He paused.

“Six months ago, he fell into a coma.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Ludger’s eyes widened before he could stop them.

Across from him, Kaela stiffened sharply, her usual composure cracking as she stared at Hroth. “That’s…” She stopped herself, swallowed. “That’s not possible. There would’ve been…”

“There wasn’t,” Hroth said quietly. “Not officially.”

Silence crashed down. Ludger’s mind raced instantly. Power vacuums. Quiet decrees. Delayed responses. Sudden boldness from guilds that should have known better. An empire acting without a visible hand at the center.

So that’s why. So that’s what this chaos was feeding on. He slowly exhaled, gaze lowering for a heartbeat before snapping back to Hroth.

“That kind of secret,” Ludger said, voice controlled but edged now, “doesn’t stay contained unless someone is very invested in keeping it that way.”

Hroth nodded. “Exactly.”

Kaela shook her head once, disbelief still written across her face. “If this gets out…”

“It won’t,” Hroth said. “Not cleanly. Not all at once.”

He met Ludger’s gaze again. “But people already know pieces. Enough to act. Enough to gamble. Enough to start pushing borders, guilds, and nations toward each other.”

The ward hummed softly around them.

Ludger stood very still, thoughts stacking rapidly, old conversations recontextualizing themselves in brutal clarity. The arena. The desperation. The recklessness. It wasn’t just about him. It never had been.

Hroth let out a slow breath, the kind that came from someone choosing exactly how much truth to release.

“People found out,” he said quietly. “Not all at once. Not officially. Pieces. Patterns.” His fingers tapped once against his bandaged arm. “Others fell ill in the same way. Some lingered. Some didn’t.”

Kaela’s jaw tightened.

“And the ones who noticed?” Ludger asked.

“They acted,” Hroth replied. “Quietly. Preemptively. Some to protect what they had. Some to grab what they could before the ground shifted under them.” He shook his head. “That’s all I can say about it.”

Silence settled again.

Ludger crossed his arms.

His mind moved fast, too fast for his body to keep up. Pieces slid into place whether he wanted them to or not.

Lucius’ father.

The sudden decline. The quiet handling. The way certain doors had closed without explanation while others opened just a little too easily. So it fit.

If others had fallen ill like that, if people who noticed began to act, then it wasn’t just the imperial family. It was a pattern. And patterns bred contingency plans.

Which meant.. People close to him had noticed too.

Ludger’s gaze lowered slightly, unfocused now, attention turned inward as he followed the thread to its end. Only one person in his camp fit that category.

Torvares.

The man who’d been building influence without noise. The one controlling the intelligence network Ludger had planned but not yet fully seen. The one who’d been suspicious, not erratic, not panicked, but quietly, carefully prepared, for a while now.

That wasn’t betrayal. That was anticipation. Ludger’s expression didn’t change outwardly, but something hardened behind his eyes. So Torvares had been acting with more information than he’d shared. Not against him. Ahead of him. Ludger looked back up at Hroth.

“This,” he said calmly, “is enough.”

For now.

Because if what Hroth said was true… then the capital wasn’t reacting to chaos.

It was bracing for succession. And Ludger had just stepped into the part of the board where people didn’t wait for permission to move.

Hroth was quiet for a moment, weighing something. Then he exhaled and nodded to himself.

“Alright,” he said. “The second piece.”

Ludger’s posture didn’t change, but his attention sharpened fully.

“Your enemies have more information than they let on,” Hroth continued. “And more means. They’re not improvising. They’re operating from stockpiles—plans layered on top of plans. Redundancies. Fall-back routes.”

He glanced down the alley, then back up. “I’ve been watching the Rodericks for a long time. Long before they vanished.”

That made Ludger’s eyes narrow.

“They weren’t just ambitious nobles,” Hroth said. “They were ideologues. They believed the continent was broken by division. Too many crowns. Too many borders. Too many command chains slowing everything down.”

Maurien stiffened slightly.

“They wanted to revive the old Empire,” Hroth went on. “Not the current one. The original idea. One land. One rule. One authority. Everyone answering to the same structure, whether they liked it or not.”

Silence pressed in. Ludger absorbed that, then asked the obvious question.

“Why?” he said. “They weren’t loyal to the imperial family. If anything, they hated it.”

Hroth gave a grim smile. “Exactly.”

He leaned forward slightly. “They didn’t want the Emperor. They wanted the throne. The symbol. The machinery.”

Kaela frowned. “They poisoned him.”

“Yes,” Hroth said calmly. “Because he was an obstacle. Old. Cautious. Surrounded by traditions they couldn’t bend fast enough.”

He met Ludger’s gaze directly now.

“They weren’t trying to save the Empire,” Hroth said. “They were trying to replace

it. Wear its skin. Use its legitimacy while cutting out the bloodline.”

A single land. One rule. One command chain. Ludger’s jaw tightened.

“So they weren’t traitors,” he said slowly. “They were revolutionaries.”

“Authoritarian ones,” Hroth corrected. “The worst kind. The sort that believes unity is worth any number of bodies.”

The alley felt colder.

“And the Rodericks weren’t alone,” Hroth added quietly. “They were just the most visible part. The ones arrogant enough to think they could finish it in their lifetime.”

Ludger looked away for a moment, then back. If that was true… Then what he’d seen in the arena wasn’t desperation.

It was preparation.

And the reason his enemies knew so much about him… was because people like the Rodericks had been building the board long before he ever stepped onto it.

Ludger didn’t look away.

“What else do you know?” he asked.

Hroth smiled.

It was quick, crooked, and then he tried to shrug. Bad idea. Pain flashed across his face as his shoulders shifted, and he hissed through his teeth, body tensing hard before he forced himself to relax again. The smile came back thinner this time.

“That’s what I can share,” he said. “For now.”

He took a breath, steadying himself. “I’ve already given way too much information for nothing in return.”

Ludger studied him for a long second. Then…

“What do you want?” he asked.

Hroth blinked.

Then laughed quietly, the sound rough and honest.

“Nothing,” he said. “Not from you. Not directly.”

That answer didn’t satisfy anyone in the alley.

He lifted his gaze to meet Ludger’s again. “But if Lionsguard acts on this, if you push, probe, apply pressure and force some of these people to reveal themselves…” His expression sharpened. “Then I want cooperation.”

Maurien’s presence tightened. Kaela didn’t interrupt. The ward hummed.

“The people I represent,” Hroth continued, “would want the same. Argarthia doesn’t like surprises. And what you’re sitting on?” He shook his head carefully. “That’s the kind of thing that turns into a continent-wide one.”

Silence followed. Ludger crossed his arms… not defensively, but thoughtfully. Cooperation. Not submission. Not allegiance. Not contracts signed in blood or ink.

Information flow. Shared pressure. Coordinated reactions. He turned it over in his mind.

Lionsguard was already moving in that direction, quietly building an intelligence network, testing alliances, watching routes and money instead of banners and speeches. What Hroth offered wasn’t a shortcut. It was reach. Beyond the Velis League. Beyond familiar borders. Into places where Ludger’s influence didn’t exist yet.

Dangerous. But so was pretending the board stopped at the edge of the map.

If Lionsguard forced enemies to move, Argarthia would benefit. If Argarthia shared what it saw, Lionsguard would avoid blind spots. Mutual exposure. Mutual risk. And mutual deterrence.

Ludger’s eyes lifted back to Hroth. You’re not asking for protection, he thought. You’re asking for alignment. Temporary. Conditional. Earned.

That was… reasonable.

It was also the kind of agreement that only worked if both sides were strong enough to walk away when it stopped being useful. Ludger exhaled slowly.

“I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

Hroth nodded, satisfied. “That’s all I expected.”

The ward began to thin, its quiet pressure easing as the night noises of the capital slowly bled back in. This wasn’t a deal. Not yet.

But it was the first time Ludger had looked beyond the capital’s walls and seen someone watching the same storm from the other side, and deciding it was better to talk than wait for the lightning to strike.

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