Before Ludger could slide a finger beneath the seal, Elaine lifted her chin and spoke in that deceptively calm tone that usually meant she was two seconds from scolding him or someone else entirely.
“You don’t need to panic,” she said. “The letter doesn’t contain anything dangerous.”
Ludger paused mid-motion. “…And how do you know that?”
Elaine waved the envelope lightly. “Lord Torvares is simply asking for your assistance with some preparations for Viola’s birthday. That’s why it was delivered directly. It’s nothing urgent.”
Ludger blinked, then frowned at the letter. The seal was still perfectly intact, clean, untouched, not even loosened at the edges.
“Mom,” he said slowly, “the seal isn’t broken.”
“I know,” Elaine replied.
“So how exactly did you read it?”
Elaine’s smile was the serene, graceful kind that mothers used when confessing war crimes. “Yvar taught me a few tricks. How to read sealed letters without damaging them.”
Ludger froze. Completely.
Then his eyebrows drew together so tightly that they practically overlapped. “Why,” he said, voice flat as a stone slab, “would Yvar teach you something like that?”
Elaine tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and answered with absolute sincerity. “Because I asked.”
Ludger stared. Elaine stared back, entirely unbothered.
Inside his mind, Ludger could only picture one scenario: Yvar being cornered in a hallway, sweating bullets, holding three scrolls and a pen, while Elaine, radiating “Star Widow’s Wrath” politely asked him to demonstrate espionage techniques.
Yeah. That explained everything.
“Yvar,” Ludger muttered, “is an idiot.”
Elaine patted his shoulder as if he were the one who needed comforting. “Don’t worry, dear. I only use the knowledge responsibly.”
Ludger opened his mouth, closed it, and decided he didn’t want to know what “responsibly” meant in Elaine-terms. Instead, he tore the seal himself. If Torvares wanted him involved, it wasn’t going to be simple. Nothing involving Torvares ever was.
Ludger slipped the letter open and let his eyes skim the contents. Elaine hadn’t lied, Torvares was summoning him for “preparatory assistance” regarding Viola’s upcoming birthday. Nothing political, nothing urgent, nothing explosive. Just… tasks. Tasks Ludger didn’t have time for.
By the time he finished reading, the corners of his mouth tugged downward. What does he want now? Ludger was already running short on days to figure out a proper gift for Viola. And Torvares calling him in the middle of all that, for birthday preparations, felt almost cruel.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Great. More distractions.”
A thought slipped in. A simple one. A tempting one.
“…Maybe I should just get her a book and be done with it.”
His System agreed with it. Knowledge is the greatest gift of all. Ludger rolled his eyes internally. Viola wasn’t like other noble girls her age. She didn’t care much for expensive dresses or sparkly jewelry. She cared about training, winning spars, beating knights twice her size, and, apparently, treasuring every portrait of her mother like a priceless artifact.
Which left him with two options: A book. Or the mountain-obliterating sword. Regardless, Torvares wanted him in the morning. He refolded the letter, placed it on the table, and exhaled. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
Elaine nodded approvingly, adjusting the twins on her hips. “Good. Go early. They’ll be very busy at the estate.”
Ludger started toward the stairs, but Elaine’s voice stopped him.
“And leave the twins with me,” she added. “There will be too many people going in and out. It’s not the place to let them run around.”
Ludger nodded. That was reasonable. The twins had a talent for chaos, and letting them loose inside Torvares’ estate while servants prepared for a noble celebration was asking for disaster.
“Alright,” Ludger said. “I’ll go alone.”
“Good.” Elaine gave him a single, sharp nod that somehow carried the weight of a command. “Try not to cause trouble this time.”
Ludger didn’t bother responding to that. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible.
The next morning, Ludger made his way leaving Lionfang behind while frost still clung to shutters and the early light set the rooftops glowing a cold gold. Torvares’ estate rose in the distance like a bastion of stone and old pride, but as he approached, Ludger immediately sensed something was different. The usual tranquility, broken only by the ringing of steel from Viola and Luna’s morning sparring was gone. The garden was alive, not with combat, but with chaos.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
He slowed, observing the scene. There was no Luna flickering through the air like a knife made of shadows. No Viola shouting in triumph or frustration as she trained. The space where they usually fought was instead filled with servants carrying crates of greenhouse flowers hauled up from the capital, gardeners trimming hedges with the intensity of men preparing for inspection, and workers installing delicate lantern posts along the pathways. Someone was kneeling by the fountain, scrubbing its marble surface until it gleamed. The transformation felt surreal. A place normally used to flatten trainees into the dirt was being polished like a royal reception hall.
The city of Meronia was alive with movement as well. Even from across the garden, Ludger could tell people had shifted into full celebration-coordinator mode. Preparations for Viola’s birthday had turned the entire city into a hive.
It wasn’t surprising. Torvares was one of the few liege lords genuinely respected by his people. Loved, even. And Viola, brash, strong, stubbornly kind, was adored by the younger population. Children idolized her; parents trusted her; adults admired her lineage and spirit. A celebration for someone like that wasn’t a small matter. It was practically a city-wide holiday.
That explained why the workers were everywhere. Servants were polishing bannisters, hanging banners woven with Torvares’ crest, sweeping the stone pathways, and cleaning windows that Ludger didn’t think anyone had touched in months. Even the outer courtyard had a bustling energy normally reserved for festival days. The estate was preparing for guests from every corner of the territory. And because of that, no one had the time to stop him or escort him.
Ludger walked straight past a group carrying silk streamers, ducked under someone balancing a tray of new tea sets, and slipped into the main building unnoticed. The hallways were similarly hectic, voices echoing, footsteps rushing, doors opening and closing as servants delivered trays, decorations, and documents.
But Torvares’ wing of the house remained orderly, almost untouched by the commotion. As Ludger moved deeper, the noise faded, replaced by the soft hum of mana-lamps and the faint smell of aged parchment from the personal library nearby. He reached the heavy double doors at the far end of the corridor, Torvares’ office, and raised his hand.
One knock.
A familiar voice answered immediately, calm and steady even amid the chaos outside: “Enter.”
Ludger pushed the door open. Time to find out what Torvares wanted, and why he’d been summoned at such a busy time.
Lord Torvares sat behind his desk, a stack of documents to one side and a steaming cup of herbal tea beside them. The morning light filtered through the tall window, laying soft gold over the shelves of books and old maps that defined his office. He looked up as Ludger entered, and though the estate outside was drowning in chaos, Torvares carried the same composed authority as always.
“Ludger,” he said with a warm nod, “thank you for coming on such short notice.”
Ludger nodded. Torvares rarely summoned him without reason, and without a layer of political insulation, so the direct invitation was unusual enough to make him pay attention.
Torvares set the teacup down. “Viola is currently out trying on dresses for her birthday celebration.”
Ludger blinked once. “Dresses?”
“Many of them,” Torvares said with a weary but amused exhale. “She is… tired of it already. According to Luna, she tried to escape twice. Luna stopped her both times.”
That made Ludger frown. “I can imagine Viola being exhausted. But Luna? Trying to pick dresses? I didn’t expect that.”
Torvares’ eyes softened with a small smile. “Luna acts seriously in front of most people. She has a reputation to maintain. But she cares deeply for Viola. Perhaps more than she lets herself admit. She wants the girl to shine at least once without armor or training gear, even if Viola would rather duel every guest than wear silk.”
Ludger snorted quietly. That tracked. Viola sparring with guests at her own birthday, yes, that was far more believable than her personal enthusiasm for dresses.
Torvares leaned back slightly. “Now, about another matter… I have heard you have met Raukor. And that you are learning from him.” His brow arched just slightly. “I would appreciate a few details about how that came to be.”
Ludger exhaled slowly. “Where do I start…?”
He stepped closer to the desk. “First, I can see why you called him troublesome. Thoroughly.”
Torvares folded his hands, interested. Ludger continued.
“He’s a perfectionist to the point of being… devastating for our froststeel storage. The first day I met him, he melted so many weapons, good-looking ones, too, that he filled the entire front yard with a pile of scrap. If a piece isn’t perfect by his standards, he destroys it. No hesitation.”
Torvares’ lips twitched. “Ah. Yes. That sounds like Raukor.”
“And that iron carriage he drags around?” Ludger added, voice dry. “It’s basically a portable forge. Everything inside, runes, stones, tools, molds, came from there. I think the thing weighs more than a wagon full of ore.”
Torvares chuckled softly. “It does. He refuses to take a horse, you know. Says the beasts can’t handle ‘the dignity of his craft.’”
Ludger rolled his eyes. “Sounds about right.”
He continued with the last few days. How Raukor rejected metal after metal, refusing anything short of total precision. How Ludger had to help with elemental magic to stabilize froststeel without melting its mana core. How Raukor used him as a living temperature regulator, cooling unit, and air-flow controller. How it took three entire days for Raukor to make a single sword he deemed worthy. And how Ludger himself tried forging something small, a buckler.
Torvares listened the entire time, a faint smile forming as the story continued. When Ludger finally paused, the lord tapped a finger against his desk thoughtfully.
“So,” Torvares said, “you’ve survived three days with Raukor, and forged your first shield. I would say that is quite efficient by your standards.”
Ludger gave a small shrug. “He’s troublesome. But useful.”
“Troublesome,” Torvares repeated with a knowing smirk. “Yes. That word has followed Raukor across half the continent. He usually only makes a weapon a month, but it seems with your help, he can do more.”
Ludger didn’t disagree. If anything, he now understood exactly why Torvares had looked mildly pained when mentioning the man in the first place. And what came next… Torvares clearly had a new problem to hand him.
“Good,” Torvares said. “Then you’ll be able to help me with the next matter.”
Torvares let the silence settle for a moment before he folded his hands neatly on the desk, expression shifting from warm grandfather to calculating lord. The shift was subtle, but Ludger recognized it instantly—the mask worn by the man who had survived decades of politics, alliances, and shadow wars.
“Viola’s birthday,” Torvares began, “is the next major event since the incident in the capital with the Rodericks.”
Ludger’s expression hardened just slightly.
Torvares continued, voice calm but weighted. “Which means it is also the best opportunity for our enemies to strike back.”
He didn’t raise his voice, but the words dropped heavy.
“The celebration will draw attention. Merchants, minor nobles, regional officials, guild representatives… not all the important people of the Empire, of course—but enough. Enough that it would entice infiltrators. Enough that an attack would resonate.”
