Chapter 50

Dinner was laid out in silence. The long table groaned under roasted meats, fresh bread, and steaming bowls of stew, but none of the usual banter or laughter filled the hall. The food might as well have been ash; no one reached for it until Lord Torvares finally sat at the head of the table, his presence pulling every eye toward him.

He didn’t waste time.

“Our neighbors moved this morning,” he said, his voice like iron scraping against stone. “They struck across the border and invaded one of our towns.”

Viola stiffened, her fork frozen halfway to her plate. Ludger kept his face flat, but his stomach tightened.

Lord Torvares went on, grim and deliberate. “They didn’t push further. No raiding parties. No fire. No siege engines. Their soldiers marched only far enough to secure one thing.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the table, making sure every ear was fixed on him.

“A labyrinth has begun to surface near that town.”

The weight of the words settled like a hammer. Even the servants froze, the quiet clatter of plates and pitchers dying at once.

Selene was the first to speak, her tone sharp. “So that’s why the Stealth Corps cut the tournament short. They didn’t want heirs distracted while the border flared.”

Cor adjusted his spectacles, eyes narrowing. “It also explains the nobles leaving so quickly. This isn’t just a border skirmish—it’s a claim. Whoever controls the labyrinth controls the resources it will produce.”

Lord Torvares slammed his fist on the table, making the dishes jump. “Exactly. They thought they could steal it before the empire could move.”

Viola leaned forward, her eyes blazing with the same fire she always carried into the arena. “So what do we do? Crush them? Drive them out?”

Lord Torvares didn’t smile. He only leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “That depends on what the imperial family decides. But mark my words—this tournament is the last thing anyone will remember. From this moment forward, every noble house will be scrambling over that labyrinth.”

Ludger sat back, silent, his mind already grinding.

So that’s it. All the noise, all the attention—snuffed out in a day. And now we’re looking at something far worse than nobles’ games. I suppose they planned to do this during the event.

Ludger finally spoke, his tone as flat as ever but cutting through the heavy air.

“Is it really worth it?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “Starting a war just for a labyrinth? I get that they’re valuable, but enough to risk the border catching fire? What does the empire even plan to do about it?”

The table went still. Even Viola blinked at him, surprised that he’d broken the silence.

Lord Torvares fixed him with a sharp glare, but there was no anger in it—only the weight of a man used to questions he wished didn’t need asking.

“Worth it?” he repeated, his voice low. “A labyrinth is never just stone and monsters, boy. It’s coin. It’s resources. It’s weapons. A single labyrinth can feed an army for years. Whoever controls it decides the balance of power in the region.”

Selene nodded grimly. “And if a neighbor secures it first, it isn’t just their strength that grows. It’s our weakness, made plain to the world.”

Lord Torvares’ hand clenched around his goblet until the metal groaned. “They slaughtered our people this morning, Ludger. Took prisoners like cattle. If the empire looks the other way, if we

hesitate

, every border lord will start thinking they can steal from us without consequence.”

Arslan, for once, wasn’t smiling. He leaned forward, his voice sharper than usual. “Which means the empire doesn’t have a choice. They’ll fight back. Not just for the labyrinth, but to remind everyone else what happens when you draw blood on imperial soil.”

The words hung heavy over the table.

Ludger sat back, fingers drumming against his armguard. He understood now. It wasn’t just about the labyrinth—it was about pride, image, deterrence. The kind of logic that killed thousands to keep the rest in line.

He didn’t like it. But he could already see the outcome: war was coming, and whether he wanted it or not, it would drag him closer.

Ludger tapped his fingers against the table, his eyes narrowing. “Details. Who exactly are we fighting, and where did they strike? You said near the border, but which side?”

Lord Torvares grunted, draining his goblet before setting it down hard enough to rattle the plates. “North. Beyond our own holdings. One of the border towns fell under their attack this morning. It’s close enough that we can’t ignore it. If we sit still, they’ll entrench around the labyrinth, and we’ll be the fools who let them dig in.”

Viola leaned forward, fire already burning back in her eyes. “So we

are

moving?”

“Of course,” Lord Torvares said. “The empire cannot allow this insult to stand. The soldiers are already mustering. When the order comes, the banners will march north.”

Ludger rested his chin on his hand. “And the enemy?”

Arslan answered this time, his voice carrying an edge of disdain. “Barbarians. A coalition of tribes and clans who’ve been sniffing at the empire’s borders for decades. They saw an opportunity when the labyrinth began to emerge and took it.”

Ludger blinked, then leaned back in his chair, his expression flat. “Barbarians. That’s it?”

Selene shot him a sharp look. “Don’t underestimate them. Their strength is real, even without polished armor or banners. They’ve broken imperial garrisons before.”

“Sure,” Ludger said, tone dry, “but still—humans. I don’t know what I expected. Something a little more interesting or anything other than another batch of screaming, axe-swinging humans.”

Harold choked on his drink, coughing and laughing at once. Aleia smirked, but Lord Torvares’ glare kept her from adding fuel. Viola snorted despite herself.

But Ludger only shrugged, disappointment tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always humans tearing each other apart when there’s something shiny to grab.”

Lord Torvares rose from his chair, the weight of his presence filling the hall. “Enough talk. At sunrise, we march north. The empire has given the order. We’ll drive the invaders out and retake what’s ours.” His fist slammed against the table, rattling the dishes. “No Torvares will sit idle while our people bleed.”

The words landed like iron, final and absolute.

Ludger sat back, silent, chewing them over.

At sunrise, huh…

His thoughts turned dark. Should he go with them? If there was a labyrinth being born, if battles were being fought, it was the perfect storm for him to learn, to grow, to test what he could really do. He’d be more useful than most of the healers they dragged along.

But then his eyes flicked across the table. Arslan was watching him.

His father wasn’t smiling. Instead, there was a tight, thoughtful look on his face—a look that seemed to say,

Don’t even think about it.

Ludger didn’t need to guess why. He could already imagine the fallout.

Elaine.

Just the thought made him wince. If his mother even heard the whisper of him stepping onto a battlefield—no, even standing close enough to smell the iron tang of blood—she would explode. She wouldn’t care if he only went as a healer. She wouldn’t care if he stayed at the rear. To her, he was still a child. Her child.

And if Arslan so much as suggested letting him join, Ludger had no doubt she’d make him pay for it. Not with words. With her wrath. The kind of wrath that could snap bones as easily as breadsticks.

Ludger sighed, leaning his cheek into his hand.

Yeah. If he brought it up now, he’d probably lose a hand. Or a leg. Maybe worse, depending on how “persuasive” Mother felt like being that day.

For now, all he could do was watch, wait, and decide later if slipping into this mess was worth the risk.

The estate grew quiet once the war council broke. Servants cleared the untouched food from the table, guards doubled their patrols, and the heavy footsteps of Lord Torvares echoed through the halls long after he retired.

Ludger lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling beams above. The house was dark, the only light the faint glow of the lantern outside his window.

So, a labyrinth.

His mind circled the thought like a wolf around a fire. A labyrinth wasn’t just treasure and monsters—it was growth. Every story he’d read, every rumor he’d overheard said the same thing: labyrinths were the crucibles where adventurers were forged. The empire’s oldest heroes had carved their names into stone by bleeding inside one.

And now, one was surfacing within reach.

The problem was, the empire wasn’t going to treat it like an opportunity. For them, this was war. An insult to be avenged, territory to be secured, resources to be hoarded. All Ludger saw was a chance to get stronger—if he could get close enough.

He turned on his side, frowning.

But if I ask, I’ll get shut down before I finish the sentence. Father knows it, and Mother…

He didn’t even want to imagine her reaction.

Elaine’s face flashed in his mind. Her terrifying, suffocating protectiveness. He knew exactly what she’d do: lock him in the estate, chain him down with her wrath until the banners came back from the north.

He exhaled sharply, burying his face in the pillow.

Still…

The thought wouldn’t die.

If I want independence—if I want real strength—I can’t avoid places like that forever. The labyrinth is dangerous, yes. But it’s also the fastest path forward.

His fingers flexed against the sheets, restless.

Tomorrow, the Torvares banners would march. Whether he stayed behind or found his own way to follow… that was a decision he had to make soon.

By dawn, the capital was already stirring like a kicked anthill. The tournament grounds stood silent and abandoned, banners half-furled, sand still stained with the blood and sweat of yesterday’s matches. Where crowds had cheered, now only soldiers and couriers moved, their voices clipped, their steps urgent.

The Torvares entourage gathered in the courtyard, steel glinting in the pale morning light. Lord Torvares stood at the head, barking orders that sent servants and guards scrambling to load supplies onto wagons. Horses stamped and snorted, armored knights adjusting saddles and straps with practiced efficiency.

Ludger and Viola stood off to the side, watching the organized chaos. Viola’s arms were crossed, jaw tight, her usual grin gone. Ludger only stuffed his hands into his pockets, his face unreadable.

Around them, the capital’s roads were packed with motion. Caravans of nobles and their attendants streamed out of the city, banners swaying as they returned to their own territories. Some moved north with urgency, others peeled off east or west, each house preparing to guard its borders—or exploit someone else’s weakness.

The city, which had thrummed with celebration just days ago, now felt like a fortress bracing for siege.

Arslan adjusted his cloak as he strolled past the siblings, pausing only to give Ludger a sidelong glance. “See this? This is what war smells like. Half the city running home to sharpen blades.”

Harold and Aleia followed behind, the first yawning loudly while the second kept her bow slung but ready. Selene barked at a servant for failing to secure the weapon crates properly, while Cor quietly tallied supplies on a wax tablet, muttering about numbers under his breath.

And above it all, Lord Torvares’ voice carried, booming like a war drum. “We ride north! By the time the sun sets twice, the enemy will remember what it means to draw steel against this empire!”

The banners snapped in the wind, crimson and silver flashing.

Ludger exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the endless line of roads stretching out from the capital.

Everyone’s moving. Every house, every banner. And we’re being pulled along with them, whether I want it or not.

The Torvares banners rippled in the morning wind, the convoy already pushing through the capital gates. The sound of hooves, rattling wheels, and shouted orders filled the air as the column stretched northward.

Ludger walked with Viola at his side, the weight of the armguards pressing against his skin. He kept his eyes low, watching the dust rise from the road, but his mind wasn’t still.

Lord Torvares.

The old man’s booming voice still rang in his ears, full of fire and certainty. He’d rallied the household without hesitation, turning a disrupted tournament into a march for war. There was no doubt in him, no room for doubt. Protect the empire, punish the invaders, reclaim the labyrinth—those were his truths, carved into stone.

And that puzzled Ludger.

Nobles annoyed him. They squabbled over titles, pranced about with their crests and their politics, cared more about appearances than people. They were arrogant, selfish, often stupid. Yet here was Lord Torvares, a noble to his bones, and still he carried the empire on his shoulders as if it were his personal duty.

Why?

Why fight so hard for something bigger than yourself? For people who might not even thank you for it? Even more so when its entirety is made of people you hate?

It didn’t line up with Ludger’s way of thinking. Strength, coin, independence—those were things he understood. But charging into a war just to protect “the empire”? That was a puzzle with no answer.

He glanced up at the towering banners ahead, the crimson and silver snapping in the wind. Lord Torvares’ back was straight, his presence as loud as his voice, leading from the front as if he were the empire itself.

Ludger exhaled through his nose, the corners of his mouth tightening.

Annoying old man. You’re too stubborn for your own good.

But still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to dismiss it.

“Hey.”

Ludger glanced sideways. Viola was watching him, her sword resting across her shoulders, her grin back in full force despite the bandages still peeking from under her tunic.

“You’ve been frowning at the ground for the last mile,” she said. “What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

“I’m not tired,” Ludger muttered.

“Then what?” She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing with a spark of mischief. “Thinking too hard again? About strategy? Or…” Her grin widened. “About

Mother

?”

Ludger gave her a flat stare. “No.”

Viola laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever it is, don’t overthink it. We’ve got a war to fight, and I’m not planning on losing sleep over what comes after. This is our chance, Ludger.”

He raised a brow. “Chance for what?”

“To protect the empire.”

Her voice was fierce, almost sharp, but her eyes burned bright. “Grandfather’s right. We can’t just sit back and let barbarians take our land, slaughter our people, and steal what’s ours. If the empire looks weak now, every other border will start burning. That’s not happening while I’m breathing.”

She smacked the flat of her blade against her shoulder, fire in her grin. “I don’t care if they’re humans, or monsters from a labyrinth. If they want to threaten the empire, they’ll meet me first.”

Ludger studied her for a long moment, her reckless determination radiating like heat.

She really believes it. Protecting the empire, fighting for pride. Just like her Grandfather.

He exhaled softly, turning his eyes back to the road. “You’re eager to throw yourself at anything that moves.”

“And you’re eager to stand still,” she shot back. “Good thing we balance each other out.”

Her laugh rang bright against the steady march of hooves and wheels. Ludger stayed quiet, his thoughts heavier, but he couldn’t quite smother the corner of his mouth tugging upward.