Dinner had gone quietly enough. The twins had spent half of it trying to steal bites off Ludger’s plate while Elaine pretended not to notice.

  Now, the house was still. Elaine was upstairs, softly singing as she put the twins to bed. Their muffled giggles faded behind a closing door.

  Downstairs, Ludger and Arslan remained at the table. The fire had burned low, throwing long shadows across the wooden floor.

  Arslan leaned back in his chair, the faint creak breaking the silence. “All right,” he said finally, reaching into his coat pocket. “Now that the house is quiet.”

  He placed a small folded parchment on the table between them. The seal bore the Torvares crest, pressed deep into the wax.

  Ludger frowned slightly. “Another message?”

  “Came this morning,” Arslan said. “I waited for you.”

  Ludger nodded once and broke the seal. The smell of wax and dust filled the air as he unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the page quickly, lips pressing into a thin line as he read.

  Maurien located a hideout belonging to the organization we suspected.

  Information came from Dalan and Linne, apparently through captured League smugglers.

  Kaela assisted on-site, employing… unconventional methods to extract details from the prisoners.

  They’ve confirmed the group is tied to the same network from the eastern mountains.

  Ludger’s brow rose slightly. He lowered the parchment and looked at his father. “Kaela helped interrogate?”

  Arslan gave a quiet grunt of confirmation, his tone dry. “That’s what Maurien reported. He says she’s been useful.”

  “Useful,” Ludger repeated, one eyebrow twitching. “How exactly?”

  Arslan’s mouth curved into that restrained half-smile he used when trying not to laugh. “Apparently, she combined her wind magic with some hallucinogenic herbs. Used the airflow to make the target breathe it in.”

  Ludger blinked, unimpressed. “So she made them high enough to talk. Pretty close to brain washing…”

  “High enough to sing, from what I’ve read,” Arslan said, chuckling. “Maurien claims the smugglers confessed everything from their routes to their favorite foods.”

  Ludger leaned back slightly, rubbing his temple. “She’s becoming more terrifying by the day.”

  “Scary,” Arslan agreed, “but effective.”

  He poured himself a bit of tea, the faint clink of ceramic echoing in the quiet kitchen. “Maurien says the two of them are handling things for now, but the hideout wasn’t small. There’s a good chance it’s part of something larger.”

  Ludger folded the parchment again, thoughtful. “Then we’ll need to prepare the next shipment carefully.”

  Arslan nodded. “Do what you have to. Torvares trusts your judgment.”

  Ludger placed the letter beside his empty plate, his gaze distant but sharp. “Maurien’s handling the enemy. Kaela’s… improvising. Linne and Dalan are feeding information.”

  His fingers drummed once on the table. “And I’ll keep the ground moving.”

  Arslan smirked faintly. “The three of you make quite the team.”

  “More like a hazard,” Ludger muttered. “But it works.”

  The two sat in companionable silence after that, the faint sound of rain tapping the roof above them and the crackling of dying embers the only noise left in the house.

  For now, the twins were asleep, the tunnels were stable, and the Lionsguard’s quiet war beneath the surface continued, just as planned.

  The next morning, Ludger was already up before sunrise. He’d reread Torvares’s letter three times over breakfast, each pass leaving him with the same faint irritation. It wasn’t the contents that bothered him, it was what wasn’t there.

  Maurien’s brief report, Kaela’s “methods,” and the confirmation of a League-based smuggler cell… that was all. Too clean. Too short.

  He’d known Torvares long enough to recognize when the old man was being deliberately vague. Which meant one thing: the message was bait for a personal visit. So he went.

  The trip to the estate was quick. The roads were clear, and for once, Viola and Luna were nowhere to be seen, no sword practice, no mock duels, no ambush hugs from the twins’ honorary “big sisters.” Just the quiet hum of morning and the muffled sounds of the manor staff already at work.

  A servant guided him to the study. Torvares was there, as always, behind his desk, a steaming cup of dark tea beside a half-finished report. He looked up immediately, and the faint smirk that crossed his face said he’d been expecting this visit.

  “Vice Guildmaster,” Torvares said smoothly. “You didn’t waste any time.”

  Ludger crossed the room and stopped in front of the desk. “I read the report three times,” he said simply. “There’s not enough information.”

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  Torvares leaned back slightly in his chair, the old wood creaking. “That’s because there isn’t any more.”

  Ludger’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Maurien’s not the type to send empty lines. And Kaela doesn’t stop questioning people until they talk. So either they didn’t write everything down…” He paused. “Or you’re not supposed to have all of it.”

  The old lord studied him for a moment over the rim of his cup. His expression didn’t shift, but the silence itself was an answer. Finally, he sighed softly and set the cup down. “You’ve grown too sharp for your own good.”

  “That’s not a denial,” Ludger said dryly.

  Torvares chuckled. “No, it isn’t.” He clasped his hands on the desk. “If I were to guess, and I assure you, this is purely conjecture, they probably do have more. But they don’t want to share it with me.”

  Ludger frowned, crossing his arms. “Why?”

  “Because the names that they had heard.”

  Ludger tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. “Nobles.”

  Torvares smiled thinly. “Always. My guess? Maurien and Kaela uncovered something tied to the League’s contacts, maybe even connections stretching into the Empire’s side. That would explain why they’re keeping details between themselves and you.”

  He leaned forward, voice dropping slightly. “They’re keeping me clean, Ludger. You, on the other hand… they trust you to handle what I shouldn’t be seen touching.”

  Ludger’s jaw tensed for a moment, but he didn’t argue. “Convenient.”

  “Practical,” Torvares corrected with a faint grin. “If this involves certain families, it’s better that an old man like me isn’t seen pulling strings. You, however, well, you’re just a diligent young guild officer doing trade work.”

  Ludger exhaled slowly, gaze dropping to the letter on the desk. “So they’re calling me in.”

  “I imagine so,” Torvares said. “Maurien wouldn’t leave a lead like that unresolved, and Kaela…” His grin widened slightly. “Let’s just say she prefers when you’re around to clean up the mess afterward.”

  Ludger’s brow twitched. “Figures.”

  Torvares chuckled again, sipping his tea. “If I were you, I’d prepare to travel soon. You won’t get much more out of me than that.”

  Ludger nodded slowly, slipping the parchment back into his coat. “Then I’ll start preparing. If they found something tied to nobles, this wouldn't be simple.”

  Torvares’s smile thinned into something thoughtful. “Nothing ever is when gold and bloodlines are involved.”

  Ludger turned to leave, his voice level. “I’ll handle it.”

  “I know,” Torvares said.

  Ludger was halfway to the door when he paused, one hand resting on the handle. Something tugged at him—curiosity more than concern. He turned slightly, glancing back at Torvares over his shoulder.

  “Where’s Viola?” he asked.

  Torvares blinked, then exhaled through his nose with something halfway between amusement and exasperation. “Dancing classes,” he said, the words sounding almost foreign coming from him.

  Ludger’s brow arched. “Dancing classes? As in, learning not to step on people’s feet while moving in circles?”

  The old lord shot him a sharp glare over the rim of his teacup. “Careful, boy.”

  Ludger’s expression stayed flat, but there was a faint glint of humor behind his eyes.

  Torvares sighed, setting the cup down with a quiet clink. “Don’t make fun of your sister. She’s about to turn fifteen in a few months. Her coming-of-age celebration will draw half the capital’s young nobility, and dancing will be unavoidable.”

  “Unavoidable, huh,” Ludger said, crossing his arms. “So the nobles are already lining up to try their luck.”

  “They will,” Torvares said, sounding more resigned than proud. “They always do. Half of them will see her as a political bridge; the other half will simply be dazzled by the Torvares name and Viola’s fame. Either way, she’ll have to endure the usual parade of suitors.”

  Ludger chuckled under his breath, the sound dry and short. “Endure, sure. I’m just wondering how many of them will leave the party with broken noses, and broken hearts.”

  Torvares couldn’t quite hold back the faint smile that crept across his face. “You underestimate how vicious she can be when provoked.”

  “Oh, I don’t,” Ludger said lightly. “That’s why I’m laughing.”

  For a moment, both of them stood there, the tension from their earlier conversation replaced by a shared, unspoken amusement.

  Finally, Torvares waved a hand. “Go. Before you tempt fate and she decides to practice her footwork on you.”

  Ludger gave a faint, mock salute. “Noted. Good luck surviving her dance rehearsals.”

  And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him, his quiet laughter lingering just long enough to make the old lord shake his head and mutter, “That boy’s got his mother’s humor… and his father’s timing.”

  From his study window, Torvares watched as Ludger crossed the garden below—steady steps, posture straight, the usual air of purpose radiating off him like armor. Even from that distance, the old lord could tell there wasn’t a wasted movement. The boy moved through the estate’s trimmed paths like he’d built them himself, and in a way, he had.

  By the time Ludger reached the outer gate, the faint shimmer of geomantic mana rolled under his boots, and then he was gone—cutting through the streets of Meronia like a whisper of wind and dust.

  Torvares leaned slightly on his cane, following his silhouette until it vanished behind the city’s copper rooftops.

  “Twelve,” he murmured, shaking his head softly. “Just twelve.”

  For someone that young, Ludger carried himself like a man twice his age. Calm, deliberate, always calculating. Most children his age were still fumbling between arrogance and curiosity, but Ludger… Ludger already walked like someone who’d seen the cost of hesitation.

  A faint, amused sigh escaped him. “His father was infamous even younger,” Torvares said to the empty room.

  He glanced down at the cane in his hand, tapping it idly against the floor. “And yet, somehow, I thought letting my daughter meet that man was a good idea.”

  The thought brought a crooked smile to his face, half fond, half resigned. Violette had been fascinated by adventurers back then, fiery-eyed and restless, always asking questions about swords and glory. He’d humored her curiosity by introducing her to one of the more disciplined young mercenaries in the area, a certain Arslan.

  A few years later, the result had been Viola herself. Torvares’s eyes softened as he looked out at the empty path. “The blood of both worlds,” he said quietly. “Too sharp for one, too stubborn for the other.”

  He wondered, not for the first time, whether Ludger had inherited his father’s reckless streak, or if Elaine’s quiet severity had buried it deep enough to make him believe he didn’t have one. Either way, the balance wouldn’t last forever.

  The old lord chuckled under his breath. “No one stays that serious at twelve,” he mused. “Not forever.”

  He imagined the inevitable, Viola’s fifteenth celebration, the flood of noble daughters and merchant heiresses who’d come to meet her and Lionsguard’s prodigy, her little brother.

  Torvares smirked faintly to himself. “A ticking time bomb, that one,” he muttered. “Once he realizes what kind of attention he draws…”

  He took another sip of his tea, eyes narrowing with the wry glint of a man who’d seen too many generations repeat themselves.

  “Let’s hope his parents are preparing,” he said softly. “Because when that boy finally cracks… the Empire might just feel it.”