By the time the sun began to sink behind the plains, the first mountain of the eastern range loomed over them, a vast wall of dark stone marking the true border between the Empire and the Velis League. Its slopes were sharp, uneven, and scarred with jagged ridges where old rockslides had carved through the earth.

  The carriages came to a stop near the base. The air here was cooler, thinner, the kind that carried the faint metallic bite of altitude. Ludger climbed first, scanning the terrain in silence while the others unpacked. He’d already memorized the section of the map Linne and Dalan had shown him the night before, every angle, every elevation line, every mark that hinted at a passable route.

  Behind him, the engineers were already elbow-deep in their work. Dalan had his sleeves rolled up, tracing runes with glowing chalk around the base of their carriage’s wheels, while Linne fitted mana tubing along the frame. Sparks of blue light arced between the nodes as they tested the new circuits.

  “Pressure rune layer stabilized,” Dalan muttered. “If your geomancer can keep the incline steady, this should hold.”

  “‘If,’” Linne echoed dryly. “Right. I’ve seen enough by now to assume he can.”

  Ludger didn’t respond. He was already walking a few paces ahead, his boots sinking slightly into the soft dirt. Then, with a low hum, the ground began to tremble under his feet. He spread both hands, his mana flaring, slow and dense, the earth answering to his will.

  The soil compressed, solidified, and stone rose in wide diagonal bands. Instead of carving a straight, brutal climb toward the peak, Ludger built tiered paths, sloping gently upward in controlled angles that circled the mountain’s flank. The walls on the outer edge thickened automatically, anchoring the path like ribs of reinforced bedrock.

  Maurien watched from a distance, his cloak billowing slightly in the mana wind. “You’ve gotten better,” he remarked.

  Ludger’s voice came calm, steady. “Practice. The land listens better now.”

  Kharnek let out a low whistle. “You make that look easier than chopping wood.”

  Kaela grinned, shading her eyes against the glow of the newly formed stone. “If he keeps this up, we’ll have an Imperial Highway to the League before sunset. I still think that using wind magic to make the carriages float would be easier.”

  “Don’t give him ideas,” Maurien muttered.

  The engineers eventually joined Ludger halfway up the new incline. They were out of breath, their boots caked with dust, but their eyes gleamed with fascination. Dalan crouched and tapped the newly formed surface. “No cracks. No mana bleeding. It’s holding.”

  Linne nodded, her analytical gaze running along the slope. “And at this angle, even a heavy carriage should make the climb with minimal strain. He’s not just shaping the mountain, he’s calculating the load-bearing distribution while he works.”

  Ludger gave a brief look over his shoulder. “That’s called not wanting to redo it.”

  Kaela snorted from below. “And here I thought you were modest.”

  By the time the last light faded behind the western horizon, the path stretched halfway across the mountain, wide and smooth enough for two carriages to ride side by side. The rough terrain that would have forced them to detour for four days was now a road, fresh, solid, and stable.

  Dalan wiped the sweat from his brow, staring up the slope with something between awe and exhaustion. “Well,” he said finally, “I take it back. Traveling with a geomancer isn’t just productive, it’s absurdly efficient.”

  Linne smiled faintly, her tone quieter but edged with respect. “And to think the Empire let this one sit on the frontier.”

  From above, Ludger dusted off his gloves, eyes on the mountain ahead. “Frontier or not,” he said, voice low but steady, “it’s still my home. I just build the roads leading out of it.”

  The wind carried his words upward as the last rays of sunlight bled behind the peaks, illuminating the new stone path like a scar carved straight through the border.

  Dinner had been simple, Kaela’s hunting handiwork roasted over a controlled wind flame, shared with the kind of silence that came when everyone was too tired to make conversation. Once the plates were cleared and the campfire dimmed, Ludger rose again, brushing the dust from his coat.

  No one stopped him when he walked toward the mountain. The stars above were pale and cold, and the moonlight caught faint traces of silver across the geomantic ridges he’d already formed earlier that day. He crouched down, pressed a hand to the freshly made road, and closed his eyes.

  The ground hummed softly, his mana flowing like molten metal through a mold. He didn’t have to walk the path this time. His will followed the stone, tracing the shape of the route as it curved around the mountain’s flank and toward the other side.

  Each pulse of mana hardened the road further, smoothing fractures and locking its foundation in place. The rumbling went on for nearly an hour, steady and rhythmic, until finally, the vibrations died out.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Ludger exhaled, standing up slowly. “That’s enough for today,” he said. “I’ll continue the rest tomorrow.”

  Kaela, leaning against a log with her arms crossed, smirked. “You say that like you didn’t just pave half a mountain in one night.”

  Ludger ignored her and turned toward the others. The two engineers, Linne and Dalan, were still near their modified carriage, staring at him with a mixture of awe and calculation. Linne stepped forward first, adjusting her gloves.

  “Vice Guildmaster,” she said carefully, “have you ever considered… working outside the Empire?”

  Ludger raised an eyebrow. “You mean the League.”

  Dalan nodded, half-grinning. “With your geomantic precision, we could build routes through the border passes, connect entire provinces, even link the League’s foundries to Imperial supply chains. You’d change the way both sides trade.”

  Kaela laughed quietly. “He’s already changing it.”

  Linne ignored her. “You’d be compensated generously, of course. A man with your skills could name his price.”

  Ludger’s lips curved in a faint smile, the kind that wasn’t quite friendly. “Sure,” he said evenly. “My current rate for road and bridge construction is one diamond coin per hour.”

  Both engineers froze.

  “One… per hour?” Dalan repeated, as if he hadn’t heard right.

  Linne’s composure cracked for the first time all day. “That’s” She stopped herself, swallowing whatever unprofessional remark nearly slipped out. “That’s… quite an ambitious rate.”

  Kharnek, who had been watching the exchange while polishing his axe, chuckled loudly. “That’s the polite way of saying he just scared your wallets to death.”

  Kaela smirked. “You wanted the best; he comes with premium pricing.”

  Ludger shrugged. “You asked for a number. That’s mine. You’d make it back on tolls within a month, anyway.”

  The engineers exchanged a glance, half disbelief, half reluctant admiration.

  Finally, Linne sighed and muttered, “You’re either the most pragmatic man I’ve met or the most arrogant.”

  Ludger gave a dry, tired smirk. “Why not both?”

  He turned away, his shadow stretching long under the pale moonlight as he headed back toward the camp. Behind him, Dalan whistled low. “A diamond coin an hour,” he murmured. “At that rate, the League would go broke before the first mountain pass opened.”

  Linne looked back at the perfectly carved stretch of road glinting faintly in the dark. “Maybe,” she said softly. “But at least we’d never have to build another one again.”

  The two engineers stood quietly near their humming carriage, still reeling from the outrageous number Ludger had just quoted. Linne’s jaw had tightened slightly; Dalan was running the math in his head, his fingers twitching near his notes.

  Ludger, seeing their hesitation, didn’t press them with pride, he went for logic instead.

  “You’re thinking in small numbers,” he said flatly, stepping closer to the firelight. “One diamond coin per hour sounds excessive until you look at what it actually saves you.”

  Linne crossed her arms, half defensive. “You’ll forgive us if we’re skeptical. Roads that last decades don’t just appear overnight.”

  Ludger gestured toward the mountain behind them, the slope that now bore a seamless stone road glinting under moonlight. “That one will do. And that’s just a day’s work.”

  He let the silence stretch before continuing, tone level but sharp.

  “Think about what comes after. Your caravans, whether powered by horses or runes, will move faster. A smooth, leveled road cuts travel time by half. A shipment that used to take two weeks can arrive in seven days. That means fresher goods, lower storage costs, and fewer losses to spoilage or fatigue.”

  Dalan’s brow furrowed, analytical instinct already taking over. “Half the time… that would double the trade volume per route.”

  “Exactly,” Ludger said. “Now think about the wear and tear. No broken axles from uneven ground, no chipped runic wheels, no horses limping after a long haul. You’d spend less on repairs, less on new carriages, less on maintenance for beasts. Everything lasts longer.”

  Kaela leaned back with a grin. “And fewer merchants crying when their wheels snap in the mud.”

  Ludger ignored her. “You can push heavier loads, too. A stable road distributes weight evenly. That means larger shipments, more ore, more cores, more froststeel, moving at once. Less manpower, more efficiency. You’d make back that diamond coin in a fraction of the time you’d waste on the detours you’re using now.”

  The engineers exchanged a look. Dalan’s skepticism was starting to erode, curiosity bleeding through. “Assuming that road actually lasts long enough to justify the investment…”

  Ludger gave a faint smirk. “It’ll last longer than the both of us. I build them like fortresses, not roads.”

  That got Kharnek’s booming laugh from across the fire. “He’s not lying. I’ve seen his earth pillars take giant beasts to the face.”

  Linne bit her lip, thinking, her earlier confidence replaced by calculation. “Comfort would improve, too,” she said slowly. “Faster caravans, fewer breakdowns, safer trips through the borderlands… Gods, even diplomatic travel would become simpler.”

  “Merchants would fight to use your routes,” Dalan muttered, already lost in the numbers. “We could charge tariffs and still look generous.”

  Ludger nodded once, calm and precise. “Exactly. And I’ll build them so they don’t crumble after every storm or quake. You’d only pay once, and the road keeps paying you forever.”

  Kaela raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Careful, Vice Guildmaster. You’re starting to sound like a salesman.”

  “I prefer the term realist,” Ludger said dryly.

  Linne exhaled slowly, the flicker of the fire reflecting in her eyes. “A diamond coin an hour… and yet, somehow, it’s beginning to sound cheap.”

  Dalan chuckled under his breath. “If the League ever gets that serious about cross-border trade, we’ll end up begging him to name a lower price.”

  Ludger turned back toward the glowing road, its smooth stone gleaming in the night like a vein of silver through the dark earth. “Then you’d better start saving,” he said, voice low but steady. “Because this is just one mountain. There are more waiting to be crossed.”

  And for the first time since the trip began, the two engineers looked at him not as a mercenary from the frontier, but as the man who could quite literally reshape the world beneath their feet.