Chapter 122

Torvares listened to the whole pitch without interrupting, the lines on his face deepening as he weighed each word. Then he let out a long, tired sigh and leaned back in his chair.

“You’re thinking big,” he said, voice low. “And I admire it. But listen to me, boy—” His eyes softened but stayed sharp. “I don’t have the influence to do what you’re asking. Not yet. A baron at the edge of the Empire doesn’t move pieces that large on his own.”

Ludger’s fingers tightened slightly on his knees, but Torvares lifted a hand before he could speak.

“That said… with your current earth mage skills, you might be able to give me the hand I need. More than any coin or name can buy right now.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “First, that town needs to be fortified. The earth mages I hired are too slow. If we’re going to hold it, its walls have to be more than a painted line on a map. Everyday I hear about their progress I feel like my blood is going to boil and they aren’t cheap.”

He fixed Ludger with a steady look. “If you can handle that, it frees up men and coin for the next step. Since you learned from Gaius, it should be easy for you.”

“What’s the next step?” Ludger asked.

Torvares’ mouth curved into something between a grimace and a smile. “A secret passage. The barbarians keep the place under watch at all times. We can’t move a large force without them knowing, and they’d cut us to pieces if they saw it coming. But if we had a hidden way in and out, we could build up supplies, move troops, and when the time comes… strike where they don’t expect.”

He settled back, the glint of the old bull back in his eyes even through the fatigue. “That’s how you get your foothold. Not with banners and proclamations. With tactics and surprise and patience.”

Ludger stayed quiet for a long moment, staring at the floorboards between his boots. He’d been focusing so much on healing lately—keeping the tavern’s customers happy, building his reputation, making coin—that his geomancer skills hadn’t grown as quickly as they should have. Reinforcing an entire town’s walls and carving out a hidden passage wasn’t something he could finish overnight.

This might take a while,

he thought, eyes narrowing.

Longer than Torvares probably hopes.

But the picture forming in his head was hard to ignore. If they managed to pull it off—reinforce the walls, dig the tunnel, then hit the barbarians with a surprise strike—they could flip the whole region in a single move. And if his guild was there when it happened, its name tied to the victory…

Ludger exhaled slowly, fingers drumming once on his knee.

That would give us the push we need in all aspects—reputation, recruitment, leverage with nobles. Not just another guild scraping by, but a force people talk about.

He raised his eyes to Torvares, who was watching him in silence, measuring him the way only old soldiers can measure someone. Ludger’s mind raced through numbers, training schedules, mana potions, labor crews, timelines. It was risky, but so was every step worth taking.

Finally he spoke, voice low but steady. “It’ll take time. I’ve been focusing more on my healing than my earth magic. But if we do this right… if we surprise them and use that victory to spread the guild’s name…” He let the thought hang in the air like a blade. “It could be the push we both need.”

Torvares’ tired eyes glinted faintly, the corner of his mouth curling just a little. “Then maybe,” he said, “we’re speaking the same language after all.”

Ludger exhaled through his nose, already picturing the work ahead — stone walls rising, a tunnel hidden beneath the earth, endless hours of shaping rock and soil until his mana burned out. “If I’m going to reinforce those walls and carve a secret passage,” he said slowly, “I’ll burn through potions faster than I can pay for them. I’ll probably have to beg Aronia to come with me, keep feeding me while I work.”

He let out a faint, dry laugh. “Maybe I can convince her by telling her I don’t want to stay away from my mother too long while she’s pregnant. She’s not big on attention, but she’s got a soft spot for that kind of thing. Might work.”

Torvares tilted his head, watching him, then gave a low grunt. “Don’t waste your breath.”

Ludger blinked. “What?”

“I’ve already been sending a decent amount of mana potions to that town,” Torvares said. “Part of the supply chain for the earth mages I hired. If you’re willing to work, you can use them freely.”

Ludger’s brows drew together. “Are you sure? Those aren’t cheap.”

“I’m sure.” Torvares leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. Even with the fatigue in his face, there was a weight in his voice now — the quiet force of someone who’d lived through decades of campaigns. “I don’t care about money that much. Gold sits in a vault and rots. What I care about is using it while I still can, to reach my goals before time finishes closing its hand around me.”

His eyes locked with Ludger’s, the old bull glinting through the tired frame. “If potions speed this up, then potions it is. Use what you need. Just make sure the work gets done.”

Ludger held that gaze for a beat, then nodded once, a small, genuine smile flickering at the edge of his mouth. “Alright,” he said. “Then I’ll get it done.”

Torvares sat back again, a thin smile tugging at his lips — not youthful, but satisfied. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he murmured. “The rest we’ll figure out as we go.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was the kind of silence that settles after a deal is struck.

As the moment of quiet stretched, Ludger tilted his head. “There’s something I don’t get,” he said. “Why are you still managing that town? It’s not even officially part of your territory. After everything you’ve done there, the Empire should have granted it to you by now.”

Torvares let out a tired, almost bitter sigh, shoulders sagging deeper into the chair. For a heartbeat the mask of the old bull slipped, and Ludger saw the weight he’d been carrying all along.

“That town,” Torvares said slowly, “is half the reason I look like this. It’s not just the border, or the barbarians. It’s the bastards in the capital. They want to see me fail. They don’t like my honesty, and they really don’t like what Viola’s done.”

Ludger frowned. “What she’s done? Ah…”

The old man’s mouth curved into a humorless smile. “Your half sister embarrassed some of their golden boys. Made them fall from their high horses during the tournament. They hate that a young girl from the edge of the Empire is sharper than their pampered heirs. They can’t touch her directly while I’m alive, so they’re letting me bleed out on this ‘unclaimed’ town, waiting for me to crack or die before they swoop in.”

His eyes shifted away for a moment, the fatigue etched deeper now. “That’s why I’m worried about her future. Once I’m gone, those same nobles will remember every humiliation, and she’ll have no shield. No title strong enough to keep them at bay.”

Ludger’s fingers curled against his knees as he watched the old bull speak, the quiet fire in Torvares’ voice sharper than any roar. It wasn’t just exhaustion from work. It was a siege from every direction — barbarians outside the walls, and vultures inside the capital waiting for the old man to drop.

Torvares exhaled slowly, dragging his gaze back to Ludger. “That’s the game we’re playing. And that’s why I keep fighting for that town even though it isn’t mine. Because if I don’t, they win. And when I’m gone…” His jaw tightened. “…she’s next.”

Ludger’s fingers tightened around his knees until his knuckles went white. Every instinct told him to promise something bold — that he’d protect Viola, that his future guild would shield her, that the capital’s vultures would choke on their own schemes. But he wasn’t a fool. At nine years old he didn’t have an army, a guild, or even a finished plan yet. Words were easy; keeping them wasn’t.

Don’t promise what you can’t deliver,

he thought.

Not with stakes like this. Not with her life.

He glanced at Torvares. The old bull sat hunched forward, the weight of his years and his enemies pressing down on his shoulders. It made Ludger’s chest tighten. He wanted to help. He wanted to say something real.

“I…” Ludger stopped himself, drew in a breath, and started again. “I can’t swear anything yet. Not something I can back up a hundred percent. I don’t have the power for that.” His voice stayed low but steady. “But my father…” He lifted his eyes, meeting Torvares’ directly. “My father will at least make sure nothing happens to Viola while he draws breath. That much I can say.”

For a moment Torvares just stared at him. Then his lined face softened, and a flicker of something like relief crossed his features. He leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “That sounds like Arslan,” he said, his voice rough but warmer. “Stubborn to the end. He was like that from the very beginning…”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small, grim smile. “It’s not the guarantee I wanted to hear,” he admitted. “But it’s the first honest thing anyone’s told me about her future in months.”

Ludger sat back slowly, still feeling the weight of the conversation. He hadn’t given the old bull promises of miracles — but at least he’d spoken truth, and truth mattered more than empty vows. And deep down, he felt a flicker of resolve take root: when he finally had the power, he’d make sure Viola never had to face the capital’s vultures alone.

Torvares sat back, his shoulders easing a little as the sharpness in his eyes dulled to something gentler. “I suppose I can’t hope for much more from you right now,” he said quietly. “You’ve already done more for Viola than most adults in her life. You’ve helped her grow a lot these past years.”

He shifted his weight, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, then added, “As long as you don’t distance yourself from her for no real reason, I’m fine with it. She needs people she can trust close to her. That matters more than any oath.”

Ludger gave a small nod, the words settling heavier than he expected. He hadn’t promised miracles, but Torvares wasn’t asking for them. The old bull just wanted his granddaughter to have someone steady nearby — someone who wouldn’t vanish when things turned ugly.

For a moment, the room felt less like an audience with a noble and more like a grandfather quietly asking a boy to stay part of his family’s life.

Ludger rose from the couch, tightening the straps on his armguards. “I’ll head back home now,” he said. “I need to inform my parents about my next job, then I’ll depart for the town immediately.”

Torvares watched him stand, the faintest glint of approval flickering in his tired eyes. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Good. Keep me updated on your progress. I will send the word to the town immediately.”

The boy inclined his head once in silent acknowledgment. For a moment their gazes met — the old bull measuring the young one, and the young one silently accepting the weight of what lay ahead — then Ludger turned and walked toward the door, already thinking of the next steps.

Ludger came back through the door a couple of hours later, sweat dried on his shirt and dust clinging to his boots. The house was quiet, the smell of stew drifting faintly from the kitchen. He stopped just inside, staring at the table where his mother usually sat.

How am I supposed to tell her this?

he wondered.

“Hey, Mom, I’m leaving for the border town to dig walls and tunnels for months”?

Even thinking it made his stomach tighten.

His father wouldn’t bat an eye. Arslan had lived with risks and half-planned jobs his whole life. But Elaine… her protectiveness already bordered on the realm of insanity when it came to him. And soon there’d be a new sibling to soak up her worry.

Ludger rubbed the back of his neck.

I don’t want to dump that kind of weight on a child who hasn’t even been born yet. I’m the one who chose this path. She didn’t.

He took a slow breath, looking around the quiet house, then squared his shoulders.

Better figure out the right words before I open my mouth,

he thought, and stepped further inside.

After dinner, the house had settled into its usual hush. Elaine was clearing the table while Ludger sat with his arms crossed, staring at the cooling tea in his cup. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then spoke without turning.

“So,” she said softly, “what did you and Lord Torvares talk about?”

Ludger hesitated. He could dodge the question, but she’d see through him in a heartbeat. After a moment he set the cup down and said, “I offered some assistance to the old bull. In return for some favors.”

Elaine’s hands stilled on the dishes.

“I’m going to leave for the border,” he went on. “Reinforce the town with my earth magic. It’s work that needs to be done, and it’ll buy me leverage for the future.”

He felt, rather than saw, the shift in her. Her aura changed, growing colder, sharper, but she didn’t raise her voice. Instead she set the dishes down carefully and looked at him, eyes steady.

“You should help others,” she said, her voice cool as steel, “but don’t do it with something to receive in mind. Not everyone you help will give you thanks, and some will try to use you. But even so, you need to be better than them.”

Ludger nodded once. He’d expected a lecture; instead he got a warning. Somehow, that felt heavier.

Ludger studied her for a moment, then asked quietly, “Are you… fine with me leaving for weeks at a time?”

Elaine didn’t answer right away. She stacked the last plate, set it down, and wiped her hands on a cloth before turning to face him fully. “No,” she said simply. “I’m not fine with it.”

Her eyes softened for a heartbeat, then hardened again. “But if you want to help others and make the world a better place, it isn’t my job to stop you. You’re old enough to make your own choices, Ludger.”

Her voice dropped lower, carrying a steel edge that made the hair on his arms stand up. “Still… if something happens to you, don’t think Lord Torvares’ banners or titles will stop me from enacting my revenge. I will find out who’s responsible, and they’ll regret it.”

Ludger felt a bead of sweat slide down his neck at the way she said it. For all her calm tone, the murderous aura that had made his father wilt more than once was right there under the surface. He gave a small nod, partly in thanks, partly in self-preservation.

“Got it,” he murmured.

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