The trip back home was… uneventful.

Which, after everything that had happened in the capital, felt almost suspicious.

The roads were clear. The weather held. The convoy moved at a steady pace, wagons creaking in rhythm as the Lionsguard banners fluttered calmly above them. No ambushes. No political messengers riding them down. No sudden emergencies waiting just beyond the horizon.

The only real disruption came from the northerners.

At one point, a sizable chunk of them peeled off the convoy without warning, whooping loudly as they vanished toward a cluster of nearby villages.

“They’re getting booze,” Viola said flatly.

They returned a while later just as loudly, laughing, carrying barrels and bottles, and very clearly pleased with themselves. Kharnek looked unapologetic. The guards pretended not to notice.

Other than that, nothing major happened.

And that, more than anything, kept Ludger’s mind turning.

He leaned against the side of a wagon as the road stretched ahead, eyes scanning the distance while his thoughts drifted back toward Lionfang. He hoped nothing had gone wrong in his absence. Hoped there hadn’t been some sudden crisis, some unexpected problem that required his direct involvement.

Logically, he knew better.

Aronia and Yvar had held the guild together before for over six months while he was away. Managed logistics, intelligence, training, healing. everything that mattered. They were competent. Reliable. More than capable.

Two weeks should be nothing.

And yet… Worry didn’t care much for logic.Ludger exhaled slowly, fingers tapping once against the wagon’s wood.

Just a little longer, he thought.

Soon, he’d know whether his concern was unnecessary, or justified.

When they reached Meronia, the convoy slowed.

Viola dismounted first, stretching her arms as guards and attendants moved into position around her. Torvares followed shortly after, already speaking in low tones with his people, plans forming faster than the dust could settle. Luna and the escort peeled off with practiced efficiency, the city swallowing them whole as gates opened and closed behind.

There were no long goodbyes. Everyone had work waiting.

Once the last of them disappeared into Meronia’s streets, the convoy turned again and resumed its course toward Lionfang.

The road stretched familiar and rough ahead.

Viola, for her part, had used almost the entire trip productively, if Ludger’s definition of productive applied. She spent hour after hour seated near the wagons, brow furrowed, hands raised, repeatedly summoning and dismissing fragile magic swords. Most collapsed within seconds. Some lasted longer. A few wobbled stubbornly before dissolving in defiance.

She never complained. Just adjusted. Refined. Tried again.

Ludger watched her in silence more than once, a strange thought drifting through his mind.

The skill would suit her.

Not on a battlefield, though it would work there too, but on a throne. Sitting upright, composed, surrounded by silent, hovering blades. Judgment delivered without shouting. Authority enforced without moving an inch.

A queen who ruled by presence alone. He snorted quietly.

If she’d stayed the same reckless, arrogant kid she’d once been, that path might have opened fully. Endless bravado. Endless defiance. A crown forged from attitude and fire.

But she hadn’t. She’d grown out of it. Viola still had sharp edges, but now they were tempered. Directed. Chosen. And that made all the difference.

Ludger looked ahead as Lionfang drew closer, the familiar weight of responsibility settling back into place. Whatever paths lay open for her, or for him, they wouldn’t be born from arrogance. They’d be built.

When they reached Lionfang, the convoy didn’t need orders to break apart.

Wagons slowed, then peeled off toward familiar routes. Guards dismounted. Adventurers stretched, talked briefly, then headed where they were needed. No one lingered. No one asked what came next.

Their two weeks of rest in the capital were over. It was time to work. The northerners checked their pouches almost immediately. Frowns followed. A few curses, too.

“Empty,” one of them grumbled.

“Labyrinth,” another replied, already grinning. “Then drink.”

That settled it. They headed toward the guild quarter with renewed purpose. Booze didn’t pay for itself, after all.

Ludger remained on his wagon a moment longer, eyes scanning the town as it came back into view. The rebuilt walls. The busy market. The steady flow of people moving with intent.

Then he saw it.

Something subtle. Something off in the distance.

He dropped from the wagon without a word.

“Go on without me,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll head home later.”

Arslan turned, surprised, then followed Ludger’s gaze. He didn’t ask what it was. He didn’t need to.

“Alright,” he said simply.

Elaine nodded as well, careful not to jostle the twins sleeping in her arms. Their small hands twitched, faces peaceful, unaware that anything had changed.

“Be careful,” she said.

Ludger inclined his head once.

Then he was already moving, blending into Lionfang’s streets as naturally as if he’d never left. Vacation was over. And whatever had caught his attention wasn’t going to wait.

Ludger changed direction without breaking stride.

Raukor’s forge came into view, its broad stone frame darkened by soot, heat rippling faintly in the air even from a distance. Normally, it was loud. Rhythmic. Predictable.

Right now, it wasn’t. Three figures stood near the forge’s edge where they didn’t belong. Ludger slowed.

Raukor was there, arms crossed over his broad chest, posture rigid in a way that had nothing to do with waiting. The lionman’s tail was still, ears angled forward—not relaxed, not aggressive, but ready.

And facing him—

Three beastmen Ludger recognized immediately.

The lionman. The wolfman. The harpy.

The ones he’d met and worked with first in the Primal Groves… and later again in the Velis League.

Harkun. Ragan. Sivra.

Ludger approached until the heat from the forge brushed his skin.

The trio noticed him almost at the same time. They turned.

For a heartbeat, their shoulders eased. Sivra’s wings relaxed slightly. Ragan’s hand drifted away from his belt. The lionman let out a breath he hadn’t finished taking.

Then Ludger spoke.

“What are you doing here?”

The effect was immediate.

Tension snapped back into place like a drawn wire.

Ragan’s ears flicked back, eyes narrowing. Sivra’s wings stiffened, feathers rustling faintly. The lionman straightened, jaw tightening as if weighing half a dozen answers and finding none of them comfortable.

Harkun didn’t move, but Ludger could feel his attention sharpen.

The forge crackled behind them. Whatever these three had come to Lionfang for, it wasn’t a casual visit. And judging by how quickly relief turned into caution… They hadn’t expected to have to explain it to him right now.

Raukor let out a slow breath and finally uncrossed his arms.

“They were sent here,” he said, voice low and steady, eyes never leaving the three beastmen for long. “By the elders of the Primal Groves.”

That earned him Ludger’s full attention.

Harkun turned slightly, angling his body so he was addressing Ludger directly now. “After what you did. After you helped uncover the kidnappings and dragged the truth into the open.”

The forge crackled behind them, sparks drifting upward as if punctuating his words.

“When we returned to the Groves,” Harkun continued, “things didn’t stay quiet. Not after children were found missing. Not after names were spoken.” His jaw tightened. “The elders convened immediately. The kind that only gather when bloodlines are threatened.”

Ragan nodded grimly. Sivra’s wings rustled once, sharp and restrained.

“The Velis League was called in,” Harkun went on. “And this time, they didn’t dodge responsibility.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow slightly.

“They cooperated,” Harkun said. “Fully. Investigations were opened. Records seized. Trade routes examined. Anyone even remotely connected to the kidnappings, financiers, brokers, handlers, was arrested.”

Ragan spoke up then, voice rough. “Some tried to run. Didn’t get far.”

Sivra folded her wings tighter around herself. “Cells are full,” she added. “And still filling.”

Harkun nodded once. “The League understood what was at stake. Letting something like that slide would’ve meant losing cooperations the Groves entirely. Resources. Alliances. Everything.”

He looked back at Ludger. “So the elders decided on a response of their own.”

Ludger’s gaze flicked briefly over the three beastmen again.

“They sent them,” Raukor said, “to return the favor.”

Silence settled for a moment.

“They were told to assist in identifying enemies operating within the Empire,” Raukor finished. “Quietly. Carefully. No grand gestures. Just eyes, ears, and claws where needed.”

Ragan met Ludger’s gaze evenly. “You helped our children. We help you find who’s hunting you.”

Sivra inclined her head. “Debt repaid. Balance kept.”

The forge continued its steady roar. Ludger absorbed it all, expression unreadable. So the ripples had reached farther than he’d thought. And the Primal Groves… hadn’t forgotten.

Ludger went quiet.

For a moment, the sounds of the forge faded into background noise, the hiss of heat, the dull clang of metal, the low murmur of Lionfang moving around him.

He’d… kind of forgotten about that.

Not the children. Not the Groves. Those he remembered clearly. But the after, the ripples, the consequences spreading outward once he’d stepped away. He’d moved on to the next problem, then the next, stacking responsibilities until the older ones blurred into the background.

It struck him as strange. He’d caused upheaval in another country. Forced investigations. Shattered an underworld network. Triggered arrests, political pressure, realignment between powers. The kind of event bards would twist into songs and nobles would quietly panic over.

And then he’d just… resumed his life. Training. Guild work. Family. Planning. As if dismantling large crime networks and underground organizations was just another task checked off a list.

That wasn’t normal.

For most people, something like that would define them. Haunt them. Become a scar or a badge. For him, it had barely registered as anything more than necessary.

Weird. Not because he regretted it. Not because he doubted it was right. Weird because he treated it as no big deal. Ludger frowned slightly.

He had too much on his plate, too many fronts, too many threats, too many people relying on him. Maybe that was why. When every day carried the possibility of catastrophe, yesterday’s disaster lost its sharpness.

Still… the realization unsettled him. He wasn’t desensitized. But he was adapting.

And while that made him effective, it also meant his sense of scale had shifted. What once would have felt enormous now barely slowed him down.

Ludger looked at Harkun, then at Ragan and Sivra, seeing them with clearer eyes now, not as unexpected guests, but as proof that his actions echoed farther than he liked to think.

He exhaled slowly.

Power didn’t just change what you could do.

It changed what you considered normal.

And that, he realized, was something he’d have to watch carefully, before it turned into a blind spot he couldn’t afford.

While those thoughts settled, Ludger’s gaze drifted forward without him quite meaning to.

Raukor stood near the forge entrance, massive frame outlined by firelight, arms thick as anvils, mane darkened by soot and years of work. Harkun was only a few steps away. same broad shoulders, same proud posture, same rigid stillness that came from a lifetime of standing his ground rather than retreating.

The resemblance was… uncomfortable.

Not in the lazy way people sometimes lumped beastmen together, pretending all members of a tribe looked the same. Ludger had never bought into that. This was different.

The angle of the jaw. The set of the shoulders. The way their tails stayed perfectly still when tension crept in. Too similar to be coincidence. Their eyes met.

The air between them tightened immediately, like a wire pulled just short of snapping. Neither spoke. Neither moved. But the way they glared at each other, measuring, wary, sharp, said more than words would have.

So that’s it, Ludger thought. That only confirmed his guess. Family. Or something close enough to count.

Whatever history existed between Raukor and Harkun, it clearly wasn’t settled. And judging by the restraint on both sides, it was the kind of thing that didn’t need an audience, or a third party sticking their nose into it.

Ludger had enough problems. He deliberately looked away.

Some battles weren’t his to fight. And some tensions were better left untouched until the people involved decided they were ready to deal with them themselves.

The forge roared on. And Ludger, for once, chose not to step into the fire.

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