When Ludger opened the door, he wasn’t tackled.

That alone told him something was wrong.

One under the twins lay sprawled on the floor, chest rising and falling fast, hair stuck to her face with sweat. The other was trying to lift the victim from the ground. Both looked quite happy, unlike the victim that looked like she had faced a hundred enemies back to back and somehow come out on top. Viola.

She was on one knee, one hand braced against the floor, shoulders sagging in a way Ludger had never seen before. Her breathing was steady but deep, the kind that came after pushing far past reasonable limits. Scratches marked her arms. Her hair was a mess. Her expression held the hollow calm of someone who had lost… decisively.

Not to an army. To two toddlers.

“This time,” she said, voice tired but strangely sincere, “it was only two.”

She looked up at him and sighed, long and dramatic.

“That was enough to crush my spirit.”

Ludger stared at the scene for a moment, then at the twins. They chose that exact moment to act . One of them popped back to her feet with a giggle. The other followed a second later, eyes bright, already ready for round two.

They laughed. Actually laughed. Endless stamina. Zero fear. Total commitment. Viola let her head fall back against the wall.

“You’ve been training them well,” she said flatly. “They don’t get tired. They don’t give up. And they enjoy it.”

One of the twins charged her again, arms outstretched.

Viola caught her automatically, then froze as the second one tackled her from the side.

She groaned.

“They flank,” she added weakly. “They flank while laughing.”

Ludger closed the door behind him and, for the first time that day, felt the tension in his head ease just a little.

Some battles, it seemed, even seasoned fighters weren’t meant to win.

Ludger closed the door fully and looked at Viola, his gaze steady.

“What did you come for?” he asked.

There was a trace of annoyance in his voice, not sharp, but unmistakable. The kind that came from a day already stretched thin.

Viola noticed it immediately. She shifted, easing one exhausted shoulder, then waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s not because of my grandfather,” she said. “Before you ask.”

She paused, brow furrowing slightly as she studied him. “Though… I don’t actually know why he came to see you. He looked strange when he returned. Thoughtful. More than usual.”

Ludger didn’t answer right away. He looked away instead, eyes unfocusing for just a second too long.

Of course, he thought. He didn’t tell her.

Torvares wouldn’t. Not about Eclaire. Not about bloodlines and regents and all the weight that came with them. Viola already carried enough expectations on her shoulders. Adding a hidden princess and imperial complications on top of that would only tighten the noose.

He understood the choice. He didn’t like being part of it.

Viola tilted her head. “You’re doing it again,” she said. “That thing where you go quiet and start thinking three steps ahead of everyone else.”

Ludger exhaled softly and brought his attention back to her.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said, truthfully, if selectively so.

Viola studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged.

“Good,” she said. “Because today, my only concern was surviving those two.”

One of the twins chose that moment to tug on her sleeve again, grinning.

Viola closed her eyes. “See? No mercy.”

Ludger watched the scene in silence, the contrast almost absurd. Imperial politics, hidden heirs, dangerous plans, and here was Viola, undone by toddlers and laughter.

He didn’t explain anything. And for now, that was exactly how Torvares wanted it. Whether that silence would hold was another matter entirely.

Once the twins finally let Viola go, apparently satisfied with their victory, they immediately redirected their attention.

Straight at Ludger.

He barely had time to brace before two small bodies slammed into his legs with alarming coordination. One grabbed on. The other followed half a heartbeat later. Laughter erupted as they tried to drag him down by sheer persistence.

Viola took the opportunity to escape.

She stood, dusted herself off, and began fixing her clothes with practiced motions, restoring some dignity while Ludger dealt with what looked suspiciously like the invention of a full-contact sport.

For a fleeting moment, Ludger wondered, absently, absurdly, if his little brother and sister were about to invent rugby in this world.

“Ludger,” Viola said, tone shifting.

That alone was enough to pull his focus back.

“I came because of Lucius.”

The twins were still clinging to him, but Ludger stilled completely.

“What about him?” he asked.

Viola finished straightening her sleeves and looked at him seriously now.

“I received a letter from Rathen,” she said. “Lucius vanished.”

That finally did it.

Ludger frowned, the faint crease between his brows deepening as the word settled in. Vanished didn’t mean late. It didn’t mean delayed.

It meant gone.

His hands tightened slightly where the twins held on, not enough to hurt them—but enough to still them.

“…When?” he asked.

Viola shook her head. “The letter didn’t say. Only that he didn’t return, and no one knows where he went.”

The room felt smaller all of a sudden.

Too many moving parts. Too many threads tightening at once. And now… Lucius was missing.

Viola drew a slow breath before continuing.

“The rumors say that after weeks locked inside his home, avoiding everyone, Lucius decided to leave,” she said. “He was heading for the port town. The one where the Ironhand Syndicate operates.”

Ludger’s frown deepened.

“But no one saw him arrive,” Viola went on. “Not at the gates. Not at the docks. Nothing.”

She shook her head, frustration leaking through despite her effort to stay composed.

“He wasn’t weak,” she added quickly. “You know that. He had some magic warrior skills. He could fight. He could use magic well enough to defend himself.”

Viola hesitated, then looked away.

“But he’s been… off,” she admitted. “Ever since his father died. His last family.”

Her hands tightened slightly at her sides.

“Rathen’s been busy,” Viola continued. “More than usual. Ironhand problems. Guild matters. He couldn’t keep an eye on him.”

She looked back at Ludger now, expression troubled.

“I don’t know if someone filled his head with bad ideas,” she said. “Or if someone noticed how vulnerable he was and decided to take advantage of that.”

The implication didn’t need to be stated.

A grieving young man. A powerful syndicate town. A disappearance without witnesses.

Too many things lined up too neatly.

Ludger was silent, thoughts already moving faster than he liked. Ports meant smugglers. Smugglers meant networks. Networks meant people who knew how to make someone vanish without blood or noise.

And Lucius, isolated, grieving, searching for something, had been the perfect target. This wasn’t an accident. And that realization settled cold and heavy in his chest.

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

Ludger felt it immediately, the way plans collided instead of aligning cleanly. He had just started laying the groundwork for maritime operations. Not rushing, not improvising, but building. It was the kind of effort that demanded focus, repetition, and time without sudden disruptions.

Lucius vanishing threatened all of that.

A port town. A guild. No witnesses. That wasn’t something that could be handled halfway or delegated casually. If Ludger involved himself, it wouldn’t be a light touch, it would pull attention, resources, and momentum away from the trainees he was still shaping and the job he was carefully stabilizing.

That alone made it troublesome.

And yet… not entirely.

He had already planned to move toward the sea. Already intended to put eyes, hands, and influence there. Whether it was ocean labyrinths, pirates, or guilds, maritime routes were going to become part of Lionsguard’s sphere sooner rather than later.

Lucius’ disappearance didn’t derail that direction.

It forced it.

The real issue was sequencing. Ludger had wanted more time, to finish structuring the training rotations, to harden the new recruits, to make sure the guild could run smoothly without him for stretches at a time. He hated leaving things half-ready. Half-trained people broke faster than untrained ones.

If he moved too soon, the cost wouldn’t be gold or reputation.

It would be instability.

Ludger exhaled slowly, eyes unfocused as he balanced urgency against preparation. This wasn’t about choosing between plans, it was about deciding which risks he was willing to accept now, and which ones he could postpone without letting them grow teeth.

Lucius couldn’t wait forever. But neither could the guild afford to stall its growth. That was the problem.

Not that something had gone wrong, but that two important paths had intersected earlier than he wanted.

Ludger watched Viola for a moment before speaking.

“What are you going to do?” he asked quietly. “You didn’t come all this way without a goal.”

Viola hesitated.

She turned her head slightly, eyes drifting to the side as if the words were heavier than she wanted to admit. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, but just barely.

“I talked to my grandfather,” she said. “Before coming here.”

Ludger didn’t react. He waited.

“He told me he can’t do much,” Viola continued. “Not now. Not with the regent in control. The Torvares family can’t move openly without drawing attention, and attention would only make things worse.”

Her fingers tightened at her side.

“And he said it wouldn’t be a good idea for the Lionsguard to move either,” she added. “Not officially. Not visibly.”

She exhaled slowly, then looked back at Ludger.

“So,” she said, “I came to ask you directly.”

The room went quiet.

Ludger didn’t answer right away. He stood there, thoughts shifting, rearranging. The pieces he’d already been moving, the ship, the sea routes, the syndicates, the labyrinths, slid into a new configuration.

He didn’t like how cleanly they fit. After a moment, he spoke.

“The Lionsguard won’t move,” he said.

Viola’s shoulders tensed.

“I won’t look for Lucius either,” Ludger continued calmly.

She turned fully toward him, eyes sharp, but he wasn’t finished.

“If I find him,” Ludger said, “it will be by chance.”

He let the words hang.

“No orders. No banners. No official involvement,” he went on. “No reason for anyone to connect it to the guild, to Lionfang, or to you.”

Understanding dawned slowly on Viola’s face.

Not relief. Clarity.

“You’re going to the sea anyway,” she said quietly.

Ludger nodded once.

“And ports have a way of intersecting with a lot of things,” he replied. “Pirates. Guilds. Missing people.”

Viola looked down, then back up.

“So if something happens,” she said, “it’s just… coincidence.”

“Exactly,” Ludger said.

She was silent for a long moment.

Then she straightened, resolve settling into place.

“…Thank you,” Viola said.

Ludger didn’t respond to that.

He was already thinking ahead, about routes, about timing, about how thin the line was between acting and being seen acting.

Sometimes the safest move wasn’t to stay still.

It was to move in a way no one could prove you ever had.

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