Chapter 55

The clash dragged on. Viola swung wildly, her wooden blade glowing faintly under the strain of Overdrive and Weapon Enhancing, each strike sharper and faster than the last.

Ludger met her with calm precision. He blocked when he had to, dodged when it was smarter, and slipped away with quick bursts of [Dash] that kept her guessing. His arms ached, his legs burned, but compared to her reckless flurry, he was in control.

Minutes passed, the air filled with the thud of wood against guards, the hiss of shoes scraping stone, and Viola’s ragged breathing. Sweat poured down her face, soaking her tunic until it clung to her skin.

Finally, her swings slowed. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by the exhaustion creeping into her limbs. She planted her wooden sword into the dirt, leaning on it for support, her chest heaving with every breath.

Ludger lowered his guard, tilting his head. “Done?”

Viola glared at him for a second longer—but then she let out a sharp laugh, half-bitter, half-satisfied. “Hah… yeah. That’s enough. At least I got a good sweat out of you.”

She flopped down onto the ground, sprawled on her back, her wooden sword clattering beside her. “Overdrive, Weapon Enhancing… and I still couldn’t put you down with a

wooden sword

. Figures.”

Ludger straightened, brushing dust off his armguards. “Maybe next time you’ll learn not to burn yourself out in the first five minutes.”

She groaned, waving him off. “Shut up. Let me enjoy the sweat while it’s still warm.”

From the shade, Lord Torvares chuckled deeply, clearly pleased by both their performances. Elaine, however, still wore that razor-thin smile—the kind that promised Ludger a lecture later, no matter how this ended.

Viola lay on her back, her chest still rising and falling with sharp breaths. She turned her head, squinting at Ludger as he loosened the straps on his guards.

“…How do you do it?” she asked suddenly.

Ludger raised a brow. “Do what?”

“Last longer.” She pushed herself up to sit, brushing sweat-soaked hair from her face. “I burned through Overdrive and Enhancing in minutes. You barely even looked winded. How do you keep going without running dry?”

Ludger paused, then gave a faint smirk. “Simple. I don’t fight like an idiot.”

Viola scowled, grabbing her sword and tossing a pebble at him. “I’m serious, Ludger.”

He sighed, lowering himself onto the stone steps at the edge of the courtyard. “Fine. I don’t swing unless I need to. Every move costs stamina. You want to last? Make your opponent waste their energy first. If you go wild from the start, you’re just digging your own grave.”

Viola frowned, mulling that over. “…So you’re saying I should be boring.”

“I’m saying you should be alive,” Ludger shot back. “Pick your moments. Strike when it matters, not every time you

can

.”

Her eyes lingered on him, then narrowed with a mix of irritation and reluctant respect. “…Tch. You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” Ludger said, leaning back against the step. “It just looks easy when you’re the one still standing.”

Viola let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “One day, I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ludger muttered, though the faint smirk on his lips betrayed him.

A deep chuckle rumbled from the shade.

“Not bad advice, boy.”

Both siblings turned to see Lord Torvares setting down his teacup, his sharp eyes fixed on them. He rose slowly, his presence filling the courtyard as he approached.

“Stamina decides more battles than strength,” he said, voice steady and commanding. “Any brute can swing a sword, but it’s the one who can still swing after a hundred clashes who wins the war.”

He stopped before Viola, who was still sitting on the ground with her practice sword. His gaze bore into her, firm but not unkind. “You burn too brightly, granddaughter. You throw yourself into the fire as if sheer will can carry you. That is why you falter. That is why he—” he gestured at Ludger “—makes a fool of you.”

Viola’s cheeks burned, but she bit her tongue.

Torvares turned his gaze on Ludger then, his beard twitching with the hint of a grin. “And you… you pace yourself. You pick your moments. That is the mark of a survivor. But don’t think survival alone makes a warrior. A blade that never cuts is still just a piece of steel.”

Ludger met his eyes calmly. “Better a steel that lasts than one that breaks.”

The old man laughed, booming enough to shake the walls. “Spoken like a true Torvares! Well, somewhat.”

Viola flinched, muttering under her breath, “He’s not—” but Torvares cut her off with another laugh, clapping both half siblings on the shoulders in turn.

“Enough sparring for today. Come, sit. Even warriors in training must eat and drink. You’ll both need your strength soon enough.”

The servants refilled cups and set out another tray of sweets. Lord Torvares leaned back in his chair, his booming laughter fading into a low hum. He let the silence hang for a while, letting the two siblings cool off from their spar.

Then he spoke, his tone measured.

“I’ve already discussed something with Elaine,” he said, his gaze sweeping from Viola to Ludger. “Since I’ll be occupied at the frontlines, your mother agreed it would be better for Viola to stay with you two.”

Viola blinked, straightening in her chair. “Stay? With Ludger?”

Lord Torvares nodded firmly. “A house with two children is less heavy than a house with one. Your mother may be fierce, but she’s not made of iron. Most of the time Viola is alone, with nothing but guards and servants to look at. That is why her temper snaps so easily—stress eats at her when there’s no one close at hand.”

Elaine, sitting with perfect poise beside him, did not argue. Her smile was tight, but she gave a slight nod. “It’s true. I can keep one eye on Viola while keeping both on Ludger. I’ll have fewer reasons to… worry.”

Ludger hid his sigh behind a sip of tea.

Great. Twice the trouble under one roof.

Viola, however, brightened despite herself. “So I’ll be living with Ludger? Training, eating, everything?”

“Exactly,” Lord Torvares said. “Learn from each other. Keep each other sharp. Your day will come sooner than you think, Viola, but for now, the battlefield is not where you belong. Here, with them, you can prepare.”

Viola glanced at Ludger, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Guess you’re stuck with me, little brother.”

Ludger set his cup down with a flat look. “Lucky me.”

Lord Torvares chuckled, clearly pleased, while Elaine’s possessive aura curled faintly around the table, as if daring Viola to step out of line.

When Arslan’s party gathered and heard the news, reactions were mixed. Harold let out a whistle, leaning on his axe as he grinned. “So the kids’ll be under one roof, eh? Sounds like a storm waiting to happen.”

Aleia smirked, sipping from her cup. “More like two storms colliding. Poor Elaine.”

Selene only crossed her arms, her stern eyes flicking toward Ludger. “Make sure she doesn’t slack. If she’s living with you, her training had better not suffer.”

Ludger rolled his eyes. “Like I have the time to babysit. We don’t even have servants. Mother still works at the tavern, and it’d be unfair to dump housework on her when she’s already stretched thin.”

That caught Lord Torvares’ attention. He stroked his beard, nodding. “You’re right. That wouldn’t do. Very well—I’ll send one of my servants to assist you. Someone competent, someone who knows how to keep a house in order.”

Before Ludger could speak, Viola raised her hand. “Then send Luna.”

The name hit Ludger like a pebble against glass. He’d heard it a few times during the tournament—always from Viola’s lips, usually when she was barking for something.

“Luna?” he asked, raising a brow.

Viola smirked. “My maid. She’s younger, closer to our age, and she already knows how to deal with me. Better than some stiff old butler glaring at us all day.”

Lord Torvares chuckled. “The girl is diligent, I’ll grant you that. If you wish it, so be it. I’ll have Luna assigned to your household.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes faintly, but she didn’t protest. She only pressed her hand protectively against Ludger’s shoulder, her aura whispering

don’t get comfortable.

Ludger sat back, unimpressed.

Great. Now I’ll have to deal with Viola and her maid. Just what home needed—more chaos.

After dinner, Viola excused herself and marched off to pack her things, humming with an energy she hadn’t shown all day. She looked almost smug at the thought of moving in with Ludger and Elaine, already barking orders for servants to fetch trunks and bundles.

Ludger, meanwhile, sat back with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed.

A boy of seven. His mother. And now two little girls under the same roof—Viola and Luna. No guards, no retainers, no hardened veterans stationed outside the door.

He tapped his fingers against the table, his thoughts circling.

Is this really fine? A noble girl with enemies, a maid barely older than me, and a house that’s already too small for Mother’s aura alone. If someone wanted to cause trouble, we’d be a soft target.

His gaze flicked to Elaine. She sipped her tea calmly, but the faint glimmer in her eyes told him she’d already sensed his doubt.

“Worried?” she asked, her tone sweet but edged like glass.

Ludger didn’t answer immediately. “Just wondering if it’s fine. No guards. Just a woman, a boy, and two little girls.”

Elaine’s smile widened, sharp as a dagger. “If anyone dares step foot inside our home, Ludger, they won’t walk out again. Guards or no guards, I’ll make sure of that.”

He almost smiled at that. Almost. Her confidence was absolute, but he knew enough to understand: confidence wasn’t armor. And Viola wasn’t just another child—she was a noble heir with plenty of enemies.

Still, he leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Guess it’ll be lively.”

Too lively,

he thought.

The next morning, the courtyard bustled as Viola’s trunks were loaded onto the carriage. Luna trailed behind her mistress, balancing a stack of bags nearly half her size, her nervous steps quick and efficient. Viola barked instructions the whole way, clearly enjoying herself.

Ludger stayed near the carriage, arms folded, waiting for the inevitable headache. That was when a shadow fell over him.

Lord Torvares.

The old man’s hand, heavy and calloused, landed on Ludger’s shoulder. “Walk with me a moment, boy.”

They stepped aside, out of earshot of the servants and Viola’s endless chatter. Torvares crouched slightly, his sharp eyes level with Ludger’s.

“You’ll have your hands full,” he said, voice low but firm. “Viola is headstrong, proud, reckless. She will test your patience every day. But she is also my blood, my heir, and I trust you’ll keep her in line.”

Ludger tilted his head. “You’re telling a seven-year-old to babysit your granddaughter.”

Torvares’s lips twitched into a grin. “You’ve already proven you think sharper than most grown men. Don’t play coy with me. I know you can handle her.”

The old man’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulder. “More importantly, you must keep her safe. Without guards, without retainers—only you, Elaine, and that maid. You’ll look like an easy target. And enemies have long memories.”

Ludger’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know.”

Torvares studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good. Then I’ll trust you with this. Don’t make me regret it.”

With that, the old man straightened, his booming voice returning as he barked for the servants to hurry with the last of the luggage.

Ludger exhaled quietly.

So now I’m a babysitter and a shield. Wonderful.

Before Torvares could stride off, Ludger tilted his head, his voice quiet but sharp.

“One thing I don’t get,” he said. “How are you so confident no one from another territory will try to mess with Viola? You’re sending her off without guards, after all.”

The old man paused mid-step. For a moment, the courtyard noise seemed to fade under the weight of his silence. Slowly, he turned back, his eyes narrowing with that iron pride that seemed to hold the whole family together.

“Because she bears my name,” Torvares said flatly. “And anyone foolish enough to lay a hand on her knows exactly what will happen when I find out. They’d risk their house, their land, and their bloodline in one stroke. Fear is a sharper shield than steel, boy—and the Torvares name has been honed for generations.”

Ludger frowned. “Fear doesn’t stop knives in the dark.”

A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped Torvares. “No. But fear makes sure there are fewer knives pointed at you in the first place. And the ones that remain?” His gaze sharpened, glinting with satisfaction. “They become examples.”

Ludger didn’t reply, though his mind ticked with quiet doubt. Reputation was powerful, yes—but arrogance had toppled stronger men than Lord Torvares before.

Still, he let the subject drop. The old man clearly had no intention of wavering, and pressing further would only draw attention he didn’t want.

Torvares didn’t walk away just yet. He studied Ludger for a long moment, then added, his tone firm and deliberate:

“And don’t fool yourself, boy. Even if I didn’t know, you’re not some nameless brat anymore. You’ve already caught eyes—as a healer, as Maurien’s pupil. That old mage’s reputation stretches far beyond this city, and his students are watched closely. Add Viola into the mix? Anyone stupid enough to target her drags your name, Maurien’s, and mine into the mud along with it. Far too much trouble for small-time thugs or rival houses looking for easy prey.”

Ludger stayed quiet, his expression calm.

Too much trouble for small fry, sure,

he thought.

But what about the ones who don’t care about trouble? The ones big enough to ignore reputation, or arrogant enough to believe they can get away with it?

He didn’t voice it. Torvares believed fear and prestige were shields strong enough to protect Viola. Maybe they were—for now.

But Ludger had lived long enough, in this life and the last, to know better: shields cracked. And the sharper the pride, the sweeter the target it painted.

Ludger didn’t argue further. Torvares’ pride was iron, and there was no bending it. He gave a curt nod, enough to end the conversation without drawing suspicion.

But as he walked back toward the carriage, his mind churned.

Small-time thugs won’t dare, sure. Petty nobles won’t either, not when it risks the Torvares name and Maurien’s shadow. But the big ones… the ones who don’t play by rules… they’re the real danger.

He thought of rival houses with deep coffers, of zealots who saw druids and heirs alike as trophies. They wouldn’t care how many names they offended.

If someone like that moved against Viola—or Mother—the Torvares crest wouldn’t scare them. Fear doesn’t mean a thing to people already willing to gamble everything.

His fingers tapped against the red-and-silver guard on his forearm, the faint glow of enchantment pulsing under his touch. He’d already learned one lesson from the tournament: hiding too much only made him predictable. If bigger predators circled, he’d need sharper claws.

Still, he let none of it show. When Viola came bustling down the steps with her maid Luna trailing behind, arms full of bags and cheeks flushed with excitement, Ludger met her with his usual flat stare.

“Ready to turn my house into a circus?” he muttered.

Viola smirked, clearly not hearing the storm brewing behind his eyes.

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