Her voice came small, hesitant. “…If I stay, does that mean I’m running from home?”

Arslan crouched a little, meeting her eyes with a grin that was gentler now. “No. It means you’re choosing where you’ll grow the most. Your home isn’t going anywhere. Your grandfather isn’t going anywhere.” His grin widened again, wolfish. “He’s too damn stubborn to die, no matter how many times I’ve tried to drink him under the table.”

Viola let out a shaky laugh, though the guilt didn’t quite fade. She looked at Ludger, hoping for something steadier. He only smirked faintly, unreadable.

“Stay or go, it doesn’t matter to me,” Ludger said coolly. “But if you stay, I’ll make sure you don’t waste your time.”

That didn’t sound like comfort. It sounded like a promise—and a challenge.

Arslan ruffled both their heads at once, laughing loud enough to make Selene wince. “See? Already bickering like rivals. You’ll both turn out fine.”

Behind the grin, though, Ludger’s mind was already working. Another student secured. Another excuse to refine the Teacher class. Another piece of influence tucked neatly into place. Shit… I am already acting like a piece of shit… I can’t start of using family and friends like pieces on a chessboard.

Viola clutched her sword tighter, her heart twisted between happiness and unease. She wanted to stay. She wanted to fight. But the fact she wanted it so badly left her feeling guilty, as though choosing freedom was a betrayal.

Later that night, when the noise of Arslan’s party had died down to drunken laughter in the halls, Ludger sat by the window with the wax-sealed parchment in hand. He broke the Torvares crest with careful fingers and unfolded the stiff paper.

His eyes scanned the text—formal, clipped, every stroke of ink carrying his grandfather’s usual weight. The letter named a place: a city two days further south, on the trade road. There, an instructor with “sufficient pedigree and discretion” would be waiting. Ludger’s “next teacher.”

So that’s the plan, Ludger thought, lips curling faintly. He’s not just cutting Viola loose. He’s steering me toward more resources. Either he’s impressed, or he wants to keep me under his thumb by choosing the path for me. Doesn’t matter. A teacher is a teacher—and another step forward.

The real problem was his mother. Elaine didn’t exactly let him wander two days south without a fight.

When he brought the letter to her, she was by the fire, brushing her long hair, the flames glinting off the strands. Her aura pulsed faintly even at rest—warm and lethal. Ludger held the parchment out wordlessly.

Elaine read it in silence. Her eyes softened, and when she looked back at him, there was no suspicion this time. Only a quiet pride.

“If it’s for your education,” she said, smiling gently, “then it’s fine.”

No questions. No overprotective outburst. Just approval.

Ludger blinked, almost surprised. Then he gave her a small, polite smile in return, though behind it his mind was already working. Easier than expected. Too easy. Either she trusts this because it’s Torvares’ will… or because she thinks it makes me safe. Good. That means less resistance when I need to move again.

Elaine reached out, brushing a hand through his hair. “My clever boy… you’ll outgrow us all.”

Ludger only smirked faintly at the firelight. That’s the idea.

Elaine’s hand lingered in Ludger’s hair a moment longer before she rose, humming softly as if the future itself had been smoothed out. She moved toward the kitchen, her steps light in a way Ludger rarely saw.

On the other side of the room, Arslan sat stiff-backed in a chair, tankard half-raised, his face pale. Sweat rolled down his temple as he watched her vanish around the corner.

“She’s smiling,” he muttered under his breath. “Smiling. That’s never good for me. What am I supposed to do once you two are gone?!”

Harold choked on his drink, slapping the table. “You’re dead, friend. Without the kids around to keep her mood sweet, she’ll remember every stupid thing you’ve done in the last decade.”

Selene smirked without looking up from sharpening her blade. “That’s a long list.”

Arslan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t remind me.”

Ludger closed the letter neatly and slipped it into his pocket. He looked at his father’s theatrics, at the sweat dripping onto the floorboards, and shrugged.

“Not my problem,” he said flatly, turning back to the fire.

Arslan slammed his tankard down, pointing dramatically. “Traitor! You’d abandon your own father to her wrath?”

“Obviously. It is the only obvious option.”

Selene actually snorted at that one. Harold laughed until ale came out his nose. Arslan collapsed back into his chair, groaning like a man walking to his execution.

Ludger smirked faintly to himself. At least he knows his place. Well, I have to make his life easier somehow as well.

Three days later, the town gates yawned open in the pale light of dawn. Mist clung to the ground, curling around the wheels of carts and the boots of travelers heading out early. The smell of damp earth mixed with coal smoke from the dying hearths behind them.

Ludger adjusted the strap of the small pack on his shoulder. It wasn’t much, but every item inside had been chosen with care. He didn’t know how long this trip south would last, so he packed as if he might not see this town for months. Always prepare for the longest road, then be glad when it ends early.

Behind him came the stomp of boots. Viola bounded forward with a bright grin, her wooden training sword strapped proudly across her back like it was a knight’s blade, and her real one on the other side. Her pack bulged in lopsided fashion, stuffed haphazardly with clothes and snacks. She radiated excitement, practically glowing.

“Finally!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide as if the whole road belonged to her. “Two days south and then—who knows! Adventure!”

Ludger resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You packed sweets instead of supplies, didn’t you?”

“I’ll share,” she shot back with a smug grin.

Then came the steady rhythm of lighter steps—Luna. She moved with quiet precision, her own pack strapped tight against her back, its weight balanced, straps adjusted perfectly. Unlike Viola, she didn’t beam or shout. Her sharp eyes swept the road ahead, already assessing every traveler, every cart, every shadow of the mist.

The three of them together looked nothing alike—Viola’s reckless fire, Luna’s cold discipline, Ludger’s calculating calm. To any observer, it was obvious who would cause trouble first.

Ludger sighed, glancing sideways at them. Baggage. Maybe not so troublesome baggage. And yet… I suppose it is fine.

Ludger thoughts slipped toward Lord Torvares.

The old man was too concise to make careless decisions. To hand Ludger a sealed letter, to give Viola permission to stay away from the estate—it didn’t fit his rigid, iron-bound logic. Torvares didn’t loosen the reins without a purpose.

No, this was clear. A test, a push, maybe even a trap.

He’s not letting Viola “run wild.” He’s sending her with me for a reason. The question isn’t why she’s here—the question is what he expects me to do with her while she’s here.

The realization soured the mist in his lungs.

“Don’t look so grim,” Viola chirped, swinging her arms as she marched down the road. “It’s just two days south. How bad could it be?”

Ludger’s smirk was faint, sharp. “That’s what people say right before they lose their shoes, their coin, and their heads.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re impossible.”

Luna said nothing. She just kept walking, eyes scanning every passing cart, every rustle in the grass, her hand never far from the short blade at her hip.

Ludger tightened his grip on his pack strap and looked down the long road. He didn’t know if he was walking into opportunity, or into his grandfather’s game. Maybe both.

Either way, the journey had begun.

By midday the mist had burned away, leaving the sun glaring down on the packed dirt road. The heat shimmered above the stones, cicadas buzzing in the fields to either side. Ludger adjusted his pack once, then fell back into his steady rhythm—measured steps, controlled breathing, no wasted motion.

Viola, on the other hand, dragged her feet so hard it was a miracle sparks didn’t fly. She groaned dramatically, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist.

“This is awful,” she moaned. “Why didn’t we just get horses? Everyone important travels with horses!”

Ludger didn’t even look at her. “Because this is training too.”

Viola squinted at him like he’d just insulted her intelligence. “Training? For what? Blisters?”

“Discipline,” Ludger said flatly. “If you’re too used to riding, your legs go soft, your stamina rots, and when you finally have to walk, you collapse like a spoiled noble. A soldier, a fighter, a mage—it doesn’t matter. One should sharpen oneself whenever possible.”

He glanced at her finally, smirk tugging at his mouth. “Horses are fine for emergencies. This isn’t one.”

Viola groaned louder, tossing her head back. “You sound like Cor. ‘Oh, Viola, you must learn patience, Viola, you can’t solve every problem with a charge—’”

Luna walked silently at Ludger’s side, expression unreadable, though the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed amusement. She adjusted her pack without complaint, steps perfectly even.

Viola pointed dramatically at her. “And you! You don’t even sweat! What kind of creature are you?”

“I am prepared,” Luna said calmly.

Viola let out a strangled sound and kicked a stone down the road.

Ludger smirked again, eyes on the horizon. Troublesome companions… but at least one of them listens.

By the second hour of Viola’s groaning, Ludger realized something: she wasn’t weak, just unfocused. Give her a goal, a fight, a target to smash, and she’d go until her muscles tore. But a long march with no end in sight? She wilted like a flower under the sun.

She’ll survive this trip just fine… as long as she has a purpose to chew on.

A memory flickered in his head from his previous life—a montage of drills, sweat, and repetition. Pivot drills, stance control, footwork until the legs screamed. He smirked to himself. Perfect.

“Stop whining,” he said abruptly. “This isn’t just walking. Think of it as training.”

Viola shot him a murderous look. “Walking is not training!”

“It is if you do it right.” He slowed his steps, then tapped the ground with his toe. “You want to stop leaving yourself open after every attack? Control the tips of your toes. That’s where it starts. Learn when to pivot and when not to. Every step you take here can drill that into you.”

Viola blinked, thrown off. “Wait—what?”

“Pivot when you need to reset your stance,” Ludger explained, voice flat, steady. “Keep your toes forward when you need to drive force. Practice here, while walking. Every step is a chance to train your body to move without leaving yourself wide open.”

She stared at him, still sweaty and cranky—but now the stubborn spark had replaced her sulk. “So… if I do this, I’ll stop getting tapped like an idiot every time I swing too wide?”

“That’s the idea,” Ludger said, smirking faintly.

Viola’s lips pressed into a thin line. She straightened her posture, then exaggerated the way she placed her feet, muttering under her breath as she marched. “Pivot. Don’t pivot. Pivot. Don’t pivot…”

Luna glanced over at Ludger, her expression still calm but her eyes betraying a flicker of quiet approval.

Ludger shrugged. See? Give her a target and she’ll drill herself into the ground. Baggage or not, she’s a hard worker this way.

The road stretched on, the dust rising with each step—but for the first time, Viola wasn’t complaining. She was training.

Guiding Words +20 Exp.

By the third hour, Ludger almost regretted opening his mouth.

Viola had taken to her new “training method” with the enthusiasm of a child handed a shiny new toy—and she treated it exactly like one. Every other step came with her muttering under her breath, louder and louder as she went.

“Pivot! Don’t pivot. Pivot! Pivot again! Ha! See that? Perfect pivot.”

She spun on her toes mid-step, nearly clipping Luna with her pack. Luna side-stepped smoothly without a word, but the faint twitch at the corner of her brow spoke volumes.

“Look, Ludger!” Viola chirped, twisting again and jabbing an imaginary sword. “Wide swing—no opening! Hah! Bet you couldn’t tag me now!”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to trip and eat dirt.”

“No, I’m not. Watch this—pivot, thrust, recover! Pivot, swing, recover! Pivot, pirou—oof!” She nearly toppled into a ditch, only saved by Luna’s steadying hand on her collar.

“Thank you, Luna,” Ludger said dryly.

“Anytime,” Luna replied, voice calm but clipped.

Unfazed, Viola grinned, brushing dirt off her tunic. “See? It works! I’m unstoppable now. Pivot, recover, pivot again!”

Ludger sighed, smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. I’ve bought myself a few quiet days of walking.

Quiet for him, at least. For everyone else, Viola’s endless chant of “pivot, don’t pivot, pivot!” echoed down the road like the world’s most irritating marching song.

By nightfall, they’d made camp at the edge of a copse, the road a pale scar under the fading moonlight. A small fire crackled, throwing shadows across their packs. Luna worked silently, carving strips of dried meat into thinner pieces, while Viola sat cross-legged, boots off, scowling at her own feet.

“Ugh… ow, ow, ow…” she hissed, poking at her toes. They were swollen and angry red, the skin raw from a full day of pivots. She tried to wiggle them, only to wince harder. “Why does training have to hurt so much?”

Ludger raised an eyebrow from where he sat, leaning against a log. “Because you spent the entire day treating your toes like weapons. Congratulations, you broke yourself before anyone else got the chance.”

“Shut up,” Viola snapped, glaring. “It was working!”

“Until it didn’t.” He sighed, pushing himself upright. He crouched in front of her, his hands glowing faintly with soft green light. “Hold still.”

The healing warmth of [Healing Touch] sank into her bruised toes. The swelling eased little by little, the angry color fading as the magic stitched tissue back together. Viola groaned in relief, her head tilting back as though the whole world had just lifted off her shoulders.

Ludger shook his head. This is what I get for opening my mouth. She takes one idea and burns herself out with it like an idiot. And I’m the one patching her back together.

As the glow faded, he leaned back on his heels, studying her flushed, grinning face. At this rate, when she finally returns to Torvares estate, she’ll look less like a noble girl and more like some Amazon warrior who crushes suitors with her bare hands.

He smirked faintly at the thought. Maybe that’s not such a bad outcome. But still… Am I a bad influence?

“Better?” he asked.

Viola flexed her toes experimentally, grinning. “Much better! Now I can practice more tomorrow!”

Luna sighed softly, muttering, “Spoken like someone who didn’t learn her lesson.”

Ludger groaned under his breath. “Great. I’ve created a monster.”

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