When the older man approached, Ludger handed him the envelope. “Deliver this to my family,” he said quietly.

  Darnell accepted it without question, though his expression was heavy. “You really don’t make things easy for them, do you?”

  Ludger gave a small, wry smile. “If I did, they’d worry more.”

  Darnell tucked the letter into his coat and nodded once. “I’ll make sure it gets there.”

  “Thanks.”

  As the soldier left down the corridor, Ludger stood there for a long moment, watching the candle burn lower.

  He’d written the truth, but not all of it. Because beneath his calm reasoning and careful words, part of him really did want to see what would happen when the Empire and the League were forced to deal with someone they couldn’t control. And by dawn, he planned to give them that exact problem.

  At dawn, the villa courtyard was alive with motion, the creak of wagon wheels, the clatter of crates being secured, the faint smell of morning mist rolling off the cobblestones. Horses snorted impatiently as Ludger checked the harnesses one last time, while Maurien and Kharnek loaded their gear with wordless efficiency. Kaela, already leaning against the side of the carriage, toyed with a lock of hair like she was waiting for the day to start behaving itself.

  Then Lord Torvares emerged from the villa’s front steps. Despite his age and the faint pallor still clinging to him from his past illness, he carried himself with the same sharp authority that could quiet a hall full of nobles. His cloak caught the morning wind as he descended, boots steady on the stone.

  “Leaving already, I see,” he said, voice carrying a hint of reluctant approval. “Hurried as always.”

  Ludger gave a small nod. “If we don’t leave early, someone else will start planning for us.”

  That earned a faint smirk from the old man. “Fair point.”

  He looked at each of them in turn, Maurien, calm and unreadable; Kharnek, already grinning like a man about to enjoy himself too much; Kaela, half-smiling but wary; and finally, Ludger, whose expression remained steady and unreadable.

  “I’ll stay in the capital for a few more days,” Torvares said, folding his hands behind his back. “Long enough, I hope, for all of you to return together. Preferably intact.”

  Kharnek gave a small chuckle. “You doubt our survival skills, old man?”

  Torvares raised an eyebrow. “No, I doubt your restraint.”

  That shut the northerner up just long enough for Maurien to hide a grin. Then Torvares turned back to Ludger, his tone softening slightly. “Be careful out there. The Velis League doesn’t play by Imperial rules, and neither do the men behind its curtains. What they show you is not always what they mean.”

  “I know,” Ludger said simply.

  Torvares stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And one more thing. Don’t be tempted by what you see beyond the mountain. They’ll offer wonders, machines, mana-forges, gold that never tarnishes. All tools meant to buy trust. Don’t forget who you are, or where your loyalties lie.”

  Ludger met his gaze evenly. “I don’t sell easy.”

  The old man studied him for a long second, then allowed himself a thin smile. “Good. Then go show them what kind of people the north breeds.”

  He stepped back as the group boarded the wagon. The horses stamped, snorted, and the wheels began to roll over the gravel.

  Ludger glanced back once, catching a glimpse of Torvares standing tall in the morning light, cloak swaying, hand clasped behind his back like a general watching his troops march to a distant front. Then the road curved, and the capital swallowed them whole.

  When the sun had barely risen over the capital’s eastern walls, the streets were still half-asleep, only the sound of wagon wheels and distant shouts from the gate guards broke the calm. Ludger’s group reached the eastern exit, the massive gates yawning open to the long, pale road that wound toward the mountain passes.

  It should’ve been quiet at that hour. Too early for merchants. Too late for the night patrols.

  That’s why Ludger’s eyes narrowed the moment he spotted another carriage waiting just ahead, already positioned toward the same road they were about to take. The lacquered wood gleamed faintly in the morning haze, too polished for a common traveler.

  “Coincidence?” Kaela murmured from the window seat, brushing a stray lock from her face.

  “Doubt it,” Ludger said flatly. His gaze slid over the unfamiliar insignia painted near the rear, no crest, no rose mark, but elegant in its emptiness. The horses were steady, the driver too calm. “They’re not from the capital’s convoy lines.”

  As they rolled closer, the other carriage began to move, almost matching their pace. Then, with a faint click, one of its side windows slid open.

  A woman’s voice, light, measured, called out. “Heading east as well, Vice Guildmaster?”

  Ludger’s jaw tightened before he even turned his head. Inside the neighboring carriage, Linne and Dalan sat comfortably, dressed far more casually than during the negotiation. Linne’s smile was polite enough to be mistaken for genuine; Dalan’s expression was harder to read, eyes hidden behind the reflection of his runic spectacles.

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  Kaela leaned forward, whispering, “They’re the envoys, right? Didn’t they say they’d stay another day?”

  “They did,” Ludger muttered. “Guess plans changed.”

  His gaze, however, wasn’t on them, it was on the carriage itself. No visible rose seal, no mana crest or official insignia of the League’s trade guilds. And yet the wheels glowed faintly, whispering with low, rotating light sigils that kept them moving without horses as well.

  That alone was enough to set every alarm in his head ringing.

  “Guildmaster,” Linne called again, her tone almost playful now. “I thought it would be convenient if we traveled together. Our destination is the same, after all.”

  Ludger finally turned to face her through his own carriage window, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. “Convenient for who?”

  Dalan gave a small, practiced smile. “For diplomacy, of course.”

  “Right,” Ludger said dryly, leaning back in his seat. “Because coincidence always looks this coordinated.”

  Kaela chuckled under her breath, and Kharnek’s grin spread wide. “Well,” the northerner said, flexing his shoulders, “at least the trip won’t be boring.”

  Ludger didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the shimmering wheels of their supposed allies’ carriage, those silent, spinning circles of mana. He didn’t know what kind of runic mechanism powered them, but one thing was certain: Whatever the Velis League wanted out of this journey, it had already begun.

  The two carriages rolled side by side along the pale road that cut east toward the mountains, the capital’s spires shrinking behind them. The morning mist clung low to the earth, and the rhythmic hum of mana-infused wheels filled the silence between them.

  Every so often, Linne leaned slightly toward her open window, her tone light but edged with intent.

  “So, Vice Guildmaster, I’m curious,” she began. “The Lionsguard, are you planning to expand your operations beyond Torvares lands?”

  Ludger didn’t look at her. “We’ll see.”

  “That’s… quite the short answer.”

  “It is,” Ludger said without changing expression.

  Unfazed, Linne tried again. “Then maybe something simpler. What drives a man your age to manage a guild on the frontier?”

  “Work that needs doing.”

  She smiled faintly, though irritation flashed behind her calm. “You make conversation sound like interrogation, Vice Guildmaster.”

  “Depends on who’s asking,” Ludger replied, gaze fixed forward on the road.

  After several more attempts that yielded nothing but half-sentences and polite silences, Linne sighed quietly and closed the window. The hum of the runic wheels filled the air again as she turned to Dalan, who had been watching the exchange with faint amusement.

  “Well,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from her gloves, “he’s nothing like what I expected.”

  Dalan adjusted his spectacles, the runic glass flickering with faint blue light while he was messing with a box filled with lines and hole. “You mean he didn’t fall for your small talk.”

  “He didn’t react to it,” she corrected. “Not like the nobles I’ve met. Not even with that kind of measured arrogance they all carry. It’s like he’s… empty where vanity should be.”

  “Half-brother to Lord Torvares’s granddaughter, wasn’t he?” Dalan asked. “A family tie like that would make anyone ambitious. But he doesn’t seem interested in titles.”

  Linne rested her chin on her hand, watching the other carriage through the narrow slit of the curtain. Ludger’s profile was steady, unreadable, a boy carved from focus and restraint. “He hasn’t been given a title yet,” she murmured. “But if half of what the reports say about his work in the north is true… the Empire will offer him one soon enough.”

  Dalan gave a quiet, humorless chuckle. “Then we’ll see if he stays as unreadable when the bait looks like gold.”

  Linne smiled thinly, the kind of smile that never reached the eyes. “If he’s as pragmatic as they say, he’ll take the bait. But if he’s like what I just saw…”

  She looked out the window again, at the other carriage moving in perfect rhythm beside theirs. “Then the Empire might have a problem it can’t buy.”

  The road stretched long and pale beneath the late morning sun, the two carriages rolling in a steady rhythm across the plains. The hum of enchanted wheels was constant, soft, mechanical, unnatural. After a while, Linne opened her window again, a polite smile fixed on her face as she leaned toward Ludger’s carriage.

  “Vice Guildmaster,” she called out, voice raised over the sound of the wheels. “You seem rather quiet. Surely you’ve noticed something interesting about our means of travel?”

  Ludger’s gaze slid toward their carriage, studying the faint blue sigils glowing near the wheel hubs. “You mean the lack of horses?”

  Linne smiled wider. “Exactly. This is one of our League’s recent innovations, horseless transport. Quite the sight, isn’t it?”

  Kharnek squinted at the humming wheels, brow furrowed. “Looks like witchcraft.”

  Dalan laughed faintly. “Not witchcraft, craftsmanship. A series of mana conversion runes and energy flow circuits keep the wheels rotating. The enchantments draw from condensed mana batteries fitted beneath the cabin floor. It’s a fine example of what cooperation between engineers and mages can achieve.”

  Linne nodded with exaggerated patience, clearly trying to sound simple enough for what she assumed was a frontier crowd. “In short, it turns mana directly into motion. No horses, no reins, no mess.”

  Ludger tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Obvious enough,” he said.

  Linne blinked. “Obvious?”

  “The glow around the wheels,” Ludger explained, tone flat but precise. “That’s a modified Flow rune, triangle base with reversed spiral sequencing. The torque comes from rotation sigils feeding on the energy transfer. You’re using at least two containment circles for each wheel or the system would crack under pressure after a few hours.”

  The engineers stared at him for a moment, caught between surprise and discomfort. Dalan adjusted his spectacles, muttering, “He shouldn’t know that.”

  Kaela smirked from inside Ludger’s carriage. “He knows a lot of things he shouldn’t. Comes with the territory and arrogance.”

  Linne recovered quickly, but her expression had shifted, less condescending, more analytical. “Impressive,” she said. “You’re familiar with rune sequences?”

  Ludger shrugged. “Enough to know they’re expensive to maintain. How long before the runic battery needs replacing?”

  Dalan hesitated, then admitted, “Every thirty hours of continuous use.”

  Ludger made a faint sound in his throat. “Then it’s a novelty, not a revolution. You’d lose more money running those than feeding a stable.”

  That earned him a rare look of genuine irritation from Linne, and a spark of amusement from Kharnek, who was clearly enjoying himself.

  “You sound like an investor,” Dalan said, half-mocking, half-curious. “Not a geomancer.”

  Ludger glanced back toward the glowing wheels one last time. “A geomancer builds foundations. Knowing what holds and what collapses isn’t a hobby, it’s survival.”

  The two engineers shared a look. Linne’s voice dropped low as she leaned toward Dalan. “He’s sharper than the reports said.”

  Dalan’s reply was almost a whisper. “And more dangerous if he’s this informed already.”

  Their carriage continued gliding smoothly along the road, runes pulsing like a heartbeat beneath it, each hum another quiet reminder that the Velis League wasn’t the only side measuring its allies.