Chapter 19

At dawn the following day, Arslan left. He saddled his horse in silence, gave no excuses, and rode off toward the Torvares estate with the red mark still faintly visible on his cheek.

The rest of his party remained behind. The courtyard once again filled with the rhythm of Ludger’s training—his small frame weaving between Selene’s strikes, dodging Harold’s heavy swings, listening to Cor’s sharp corrections.

But the training was lighter than usual. The companions’ focus drifted, their eyes often flicking toward the road Arslan had taken. Eventually, Aleia broke the silence, leaning on her bow with a sigh.

“How in the world did we let that idiot become our leader?”

Selene frowned, parrying Ludger’s jab absentmindedly. “Good question. He has a good head for combat, I’ll give him that. But outside the battlefield? He’s hopeless.”

Harold laughed, though it was more exasperated than amused. “Hopeless is putting it nicely. The man swings a sword at monsters like a genius, then turns around and walks headfirst into disasters like this.”

Cor tapped his feet against the ground, his tone dry. “We were young. He was bold, reckless, and strangely charismatic when it came to fighting. That combination tends to attract followers. It doesn’t make him wise. It only makes him dangerous.”

Ludger listened quietly, his eyes narrowing as he ducked under Selene’s next strike. He had already come to the same conclusion, but hearing the words spoken aloud by Arslan’s closest companions only hardened his thoughts.

Arslan might be a good fighter. But as a man, as a father, as a leader beyond the battlefield… he was painfully, dangerously stupid.

And now, he was walking straight into a noble’s den to answer for that stupidity.

As training wound down, the conversation circled back to the night before. Harold leaned against his axe, shaking his head. “What really gets me is how calm the kid took it. If it were me and I found out my old man had another child tucked away, I’d be rattled for days.”

Aleia chuckled lightly, though her eyes stayed on Ludger as he stretched his arms. “He didn’t even blink. Just shrugged like it was nothing. Strange boy.”

Selene frowned, crossing her arms. “No, not strange. Practical. He’s already learned something most grown adventurers never do—worrying won’t change a damned thing.”

Ludger, hearing them but not breaking his rhythm, finally spoke up. “When it comes to my father, nothing surprises me. Thinking too much about it won’t change anything.” He adjusted his stance and threw another punch at the training dummy, the wood creaking under the blow. “So why bother?”

His words carried no heat, no bitterness, just a flat acceptance that made the older adventurers exchange uneasy glances.

Cor’s eyes lingered on him the longest. He didn’t comment, but the slight furrow in his brow revealed what he thought. For a boy not yet six, Ludger carried himself with a detachment that was far older—and far heavier—than it should have been.

Aleia broke the silence with a forced laugh. “Practical, like I said. Still, it makes me wonder if Arslan realizes how much his son is already slipping away from him.”

Selene only grunted in agreement, while Harold muttered something about “brains over brawn.”

And Ludger went right back to training, as if none of it mattered.

When the others finally drifted back to their own tasks, Ludger sat beneath the shade of the old courtyard tree. The wooden dummy still bore the marks of his fists, but his thoughts were far from training now.

He tilted his head back, eyes tracing the patches of blue sky through the leaves.

This life was supposed to be different,

he thought.

Full of wonder, discovery, adventure. A second chance to carve my own path, not repeat the mistakes of the past.

And yet here he was, tangled in family drama that felt less like the start of a great saga and more like some overwrought play. Worse still—a cheap one.

My father’s philandering has turned my new life into a… Mexican novella,

he mused darkly.

And I’m not even the main character. Just a side figure watching everything fall apart.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he pushed himself up from the grass. He couldn’t let himself be swallowed by this. Elaine needed him, yes—but beyond that, he needed distance from Arslan’s disasters. If he stayed too close, he would get caught in the mess, and the last thing he wanted was to spend his second life shackled to someone else’s mistakes.

Ludger brushed the dirt from his hands, a quiet resolve hardening inside him.

No. If I’m to live this life without regrets, then I’ll need to step away. Stay clear of this drama before it poisons everything I’ve built so far.

The shouts of training drifted faintly across the yard, but his mind was already elsewhere—on the open road, on paths that stretched into the unknown, far away from his father’s shadow.

By the time the sun had dipped below the hills, Arslan returned. His horse stumbled into the yard with its head low, foam at its mouth, and Arslan looked scarcely better. Dust clung to his clothes, and his shoulders sagged with the weight of fatigue.

The journey to the Torvares estate had taken six hours there and back—far longer than he had expected. The estate itself lay deep within the neighboring territory, a road that wound past endless farmland before giving way to the stone walls of Koa City.

Koa was a place of modest wealth and limited ambition, ruled by a lesser noble house that rarely stirred itself beyond its own borders. They kept their city quiet, their dealings clean, and their heads bowed to the larger families around them. The Torvares, however, were another matter entirely.

Arslan slid from the saddle with a groan, one hand rubbing his neck as he walked into the yard. His companions looked up from where they had been waiting—some curious, some wary—but Elaine stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp as a blade.

Ludger only studied his father from the corner of his eye. The exhaustion was plain, but it wasn’t just from the ride. There was a heaviness in Arslan’s steps, the kind that came from walking out of one storm only to find another waiting at home.

“Six hours,” Arslan muttered, half to himself. “And that was just the ride…”

He didn’t finish the thought.

The silence that followed was filled with the creak of his horse’s reins and the faint hum of crickets rising in the grass.

Arslan dragged himself into the house, his boots leaving faint trails of dust across the floorboards. He collapsed onto the nearest chair, leaning back as if the weight of the day might press him flat against the wood. Elaine didn’t move from her place near the table. Her arms remained crossed, her gaze fixed on him, sharp enough to peel away every excuse before he could speak.

“Well?” she asked.

Arslan let out a long breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The meeting… went about as well as walking into a bear’s den.” His lips twisted into a grimace. “Violette’s father—Viola’s grandfather—looked at me the whole time like he wanted to punch me through a wall. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.”

Harold whistled low. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” Arslan confirmed. “He didn’t raise a hand, but I could feel it. Every word, every glare… like he was holding himself back from drawing steel. I tried to explain—I didn’t know about her pregnancy, I didn’t know about the girl—but he barely listened.”

Cor leaned on his staff, eyes narrowing. “And yet he allowed her to approach you. That means something.”

Arslan gave a short, humorless laugh. “Allowed? No. He tolerated it. Barely. He hates me more than ever, but… Viola insisted. He’s giving her the freedom her mother never had because she had the health that her mother didn’t..”

Elaine’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her silence grew heavier.

Ludger watched from the corner, arms folded. He almost pitied his father—almost. But instead of sympathy, he felt only the sharp sting of secondhand shame. He could picture it clearly: a noble patriarch glaring down at Arslan, the image of his own youthful folly thrown back in his face.

Of course the man had wanted to punch him. Ludger would have done it too in his place.

And yet, against all odds, Arslan had walked away alive.

Ludger lingered near the doorway as the adults spoke, the words washing over him like background noise. Arslan’s weary voice, Elaine’s sharp silence, the uneasy mutters from Harold and Aleia—it all blurred together. What stayed with him wasn’t what had happened in the Torvares estate.

It was Viola.

That girl, standing with her scowl that seemed carved into her face, chin raised with pride she hadn’t earned, and words sharp enough to cut. She had been too young to glare like that, too young to stand there and speak like she was already grown. And yet… she had.

Ludger narrowed his eyes. He could see it clearly now: she was going to be trouble.

She was Arslan’s daughter in more than just blood. That same recklessness, that same boldness—it burned in her eyes the way it always burned in his father’s careless grin before another disaster. She would leap headfirst into storms, convinced she could bend the winds.

And if she was allowed into his life, that storm would find its way to him too.

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed tightly.

No… I can’t let myself get dragged into that.

This was supposed to be his second life. A chance to build something greater, to walk paths filled with wonder and discovery. Not to get tangled in his father’s endless mistakes, or babysit a half-sister who looked destined to repeat them.

If Viola was like Arslan, then she was a storm waiting to happen.

And Ludger had no intention of being caught in the rain.

Arslan rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the floorboards as if the grain itself might offer him an escape. His voice came out low, heavy with reluctance.

“He asked what I’d been doing all these years,” Arslan admitted. “I couldn’t exactly dodge the question. So… I told him about you all. About Elaine. About Ludger.”

At that, his eyes flicked toward his son. There was something sheepish in the glance, almost guilty, as though he’d already realized he’d said too much.

“And?” Elaine’s voice was quiet, but her tone carried weight enough to pin him in place.

Arslan hesitated. “He… seemed curious. Especially when I mentioned Luds.”

The room grew heavier. Harold shifted uncomfortably, Aleia stopped twirling her hair, and even Selene’s sharp eyes narrowed. Cor only watched in silence, his expression unreadable.

Ludger felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t need to hear the rest. He could already picture it: his father, fumbling through his answers, words spilling like an open tap. Pride mixed with carelessness, boasting in front of a man who hated him enough to strangle him on the spot.

Of course Arslan had babbled about his “talented son.” Of course he’d painted a picture brighter than reality, even if it meant exposing what Ludger wanted to keep hidden.

The boy folded his arms, staring at his father with a frown that said more than words could.

So much for keeping my growth quiet. One meeting, and he’s already put me on their radar.

It was exactly the kind of recklessness Ludger had expected. And now, he would have to be the one to clean up the consequences.

Arslan dragged a hand down his face, the fatigue in his expression deepening with every word. “He… made an offer,” he said slowly. “Said he’d be willing to give Ludger some proper education. Tutors, books, a noble’s schooling. In exchange…” His voice faltered, and he glanced at Elaine.

“In exchange?” she pressed, her tone sharp enough to cut.

Arslan swallowed. “He wants Ludger to work for the family. To use his healing skills… and to train alongside Viola. He didn’t spell it out, but I could tell. What he really wants is to use Ludger as a way to sharpen her, to make her stronger.”

The words had barely left his mouth before the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Elaine straightened, her green eyes flaring with a cold fury that made even Harold take a step back.

“So that’s it,” she said, her voice trembling with restrained rage. “He loses his daughter, and now he thinks he can

buy

my son? Trade a bit of fancy education for my child’s freedom?”

Arslan winced. “Elaine, it wasn’t like that—”

“Don’t you dare defend him,” she snapped. Her hand clenched against the table until the wood groaned under the pressure. “You opened your mouth, you bragged, and now you’ve handed them an excuse to sink their claws into Ludger!”

Arslan said nothing. He couldn’t.

Ludger, standing at the edge of the room, watched his mother with a mixture of unease and admiration. Her fury burned hotter than any fireball Cor could cast, and for once, it wasn’t aimed at him.

Still, his frown deepened. He could already see it—Viola’s grandfather didn’t care about him. Not really. He only cared about what Ludger could do for his granddaughter.

Another tool. Another piece on the board.

Elaine’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and final.

“Over my dead body will they take Ludger.”

Elaine’s hands pressed flat against the table, her voice firm and final. “No. Ludger won’t set foot in their estate. He won’t be their tool, their little experiment, or a sparring partner for your bastard’s training. I don’t care if they offer gold, libraries, or the crown’s blessing—over my dead body will I let them near him.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Even Arslan flinched, his head bowing slightly like a soldier before a general.

Ludger, who had been silent until now, raised an eyebrow. “Is it common for noble girls to be taught to become swordsmen?”

The question drew everyone’s attention, even Elaine’s fury dimming for a moment as she glanced at her son.

Arslan rubbed at his neck, his expression uneasy. “Not common, no. Most noble daughters are trained in etiquette, courtly magic, and a bit of self-defense at best. But Viola’s… different.” He paused, searching for the right words. “She’s strong-willed, yes—stubborn, even reckless. But she’s also sharp. Smarter than I was at her age.”

He hesitated before adding, “She can already use basic magic. A spark of flame, a shield of air. Nothing grand, but enough to show talent. With that, her grandfather can unlock all the possibilities for her—mage, swordsman. He’ll make sure she has everything she needs to grow.”

Elaine scoffed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Everything except a father who didn’t abandon her and a family that doesn’t treat her like a weapon.”

Her words cut sharper than any blade, and Arslan winced again, falling silent.

Ludger’s frown deepened. If Viola truly had that kind of backing—magic, training, tutors, and the resources of a noble house—then she would grow quickly. Maybe even rival him one day. But if she had inherited Arslan’s recklessness along with his face, then she would also drag trouble wherever she went.

And trouble was exactly what Ludger wanted to avoid.