Then the young manâs lips curved into a smile as his gaze found Ludger.
âWell,â he said, voice smooth and amused, âitâs been a while. You look stronger than before.â
Ludgerâs posture stiffened, though he didnât rise.
He knows me.
His mind flicked through memories, fights, negotiations, the academy duel arena four years ago, the crowd roaring while nobles wagered on their childrenâs pride.
That was it. The so-called Imperial Exchange Tournament, the capitalâs twisted version of a noble training exercise.
And this boy⊠this boy had been one of Violaâs opponents, or was supposed to be in the semi finals.
Ludger didnât return the smile. He just met the young manâs gaze and said, evenly,
ââŠI donât recall your name. But I remember your face.â
The young man chuckled, unbothered. âAh, I see. You remember the
feeling
then. Thatâs good enough for me.â
Torvaresâs eyes flicked between them, his tone calm but edged. âI take it weâre skipping introductions, then?â
The young man turned to him, still smiling faintly. âNot at all, Lord Torvares. Iâm Rufas Dalmoren, second representative of the Velis Leagueâs envoy council.â
He gestured toward the engineers beside him. âThese are my associates, Technomancer Linne and Rune Architect Dalen. Weâre here to discuss⊠cooperation.â
The word hung in the air like a blade wrapped in silk.
Maurien folded his arms. âCooperation,â he repeated, tone dry. âThatâs a generous way to describe selling us weapons that end up in slaversâ hands.â
Rufasâs smile didnât falter, but the glint in his eyes sharpened. âOh, this will be
fun
,â he said softly. Ludger could already tell: the real negotiation hadnât even begun.
The two engineers exchanged a look as soon as Maurien finished speaking, both visibly taken aback, though their reactions were different. The womanâs brows knit together in confusion; the manâs mouth tightened in irritation.
âExcuse me,â the woman said finally, her tone clipped but controlled. âWhat was that about
slavers
? We came here to negotiate a resource exchange with the Lionsguard, not to be accused of criminal trade.â
Her companion nodded sharply. âIf this is how the Empire opens diplomacy, perhaps the rumors about its instability are true.â
Ludger raised a hand calmly, his voice cutting through the tension. âSit down first.â
The firmness in his tone made both engineers pause. After a heartbeat, they obeyed, taking their seats across from the group. The younger envoy, Rufas, remained standing, arms folded with a faint smirk that didnât reach his eyes.
Ludger continued, tone level but clear. âMaurien isnât throwing wild accusations. Heâs a veteran mage and a bandit hunter. More importantly, heâs part of the Lionsguard, my guild. His work often overlaps with mine.â
That caught their attention. Maurien inclined his head slightly, confirming it without words.
Ludger folded his hands on the table, gaze steady. âI canât share all the details yet, but weâve found evidence of
Imperial citizens
being traded through black market networks. Those same routes tie back to certain League merchants. Thatâs not a claim, itâs a lead.â
The engineers exchanged another glance. Ludgerâs tone sharpened just slightly. âSo, let me ask this directly: are there Imperial slaves in the Velis League?â
The man frowned. âOf course there are,â he said carefully. âBut not in the way you imply. Most are debt-bound, criminals, or refugees who sold themselves into servitude to survive. We donât
need
to kidnap anyone, and the League doesnât do business with underworld guilds. That would undermine our own economy.â
The woman added, âOur laws allow indentured service, but itâs regulated by contract. Whatever illegal traffic happens beyond our borders isnât sanctioned by the League.â
Ludger studied them closely, noting their body language, their micro-expressions. Both seemed genuinely confused, not evasive. âThen,â he said quietly, âif what youâre saying is true, youâd have no issue cooperating with an investigation into where those slaves are coming from?â
The two envoys hesitated, then slowly nodded.
âIf we reach a suitable agreement today,â the woman said, âweâll cooperate. We have no interest in being tied to trafficking scandals.â
Ludger leaned back in his chair and gave a small nod. âGood. Then weâll leave that for after the meeting. The business comes first.â
He turned his head toward Maurien, who met his gaze and gave a slow nod of approval.
âAlright then,â Ludger said, refocusing on the envoys. âLetâs talk about the trade deal before we move to the darker part of the ledger.â
The tension in the room eased slightly, but only slightly. Beneath the polished words and the polite smiles, everyone knew that once the negotiations were done,
truth
would be the next thing on the table.
Linne, the silver-haired engineer, reached into her satchel and pulled out a stack of parchment bound by brass rings. The sheets shimmered faintly with rune-ink, diagrams, contract seals, and market tables written in a League-style shorthand.
She laid them out neatly on the table, her movements precise. âThen, if we may proceed with the primary reason for our visit,â she began, voice crisp and professional. âThe Velis League seeks to establish a formal trade accord with the Lionsguard. Youâve become, in a very short time, the Empireâs largest independent producer of froststeel and raw mana cores.â
Her partner, Dalan, took over smoothly. âWeâre already in contract with the Ironhand Syndicate to handle ground distribution and transport across our southern ports. Their caravans are secure and equipped for containment of volatile materials. What we lack,â he said, meeting Ludgerâs gaze, âis a reliable long-term supplier.â
Linne flipped to another page, a map of the northern trade routes, lines of ink crossing the mountains and rivers between the Empire and the League. âOur proposal is simple. The League will purchase both froststeel and mana cores directly from the Lionsguard, bypassing imperial intermediaries. We want consistency, not quantity bursts.â
Torvaresâs expression didnât change, but Ludger could see the way his hand tightened slightly around the head of his cane.
Dalan continued, âSpecifically, weâre prepared to commit to a monthly shipment of
one thousand mana cores
and
five hundred kilograms of froststeel. Which might renegotiated as the lionsguard increases in size
â
Kaelaâs brows shot up. Even Kharnek let out a low whistle.
âThatâs a
lot
of froststeel,â she muttered.
Linne nodded without hesitation. âIt is. But itâs also fair. In exchange, the League will offer one hundred diamond coins per shipment, paid on delivery, not credit.â
The room went quiet for a moment. Even Torvares blinked once, and for him, that counted as shock. Ludger, on the other hand, immediately started doing the math in his head.
One hundred diamond coins per monthâŠ
That was at least
double
what theyâd get selling to the imperial markets. And yet, something didnât sit right.
He crossed his arms, keeping his expression unreadable. âThatâsâŠÂ pretty generous,â he said slowly.
Linne smiled faintly. âWe value efficiency. The Empireâs tariffs and permits make trade painfully slow. The Lionsguard operates outside those chains. We want to make a deal fast since we already spent far too much time here.â
Dalan leaned forward slightly. âYour guild is efficient, disciplined, and capable of consistent output. Weâve done our research. Your current yield, between your frost labyrinth operations and the mana cores collected from the south, should easily meet our requested quotas.â
Ludgerâs eyes narrowed just slightly.
Easily
, they said. But the truth was, they were asking for
ninety percent
of his monthly production capacity. Theyâd done their homework, down to the ton.
He didnât call them on it. Not yet. Torvares spoke first, his tone cool. âA deal of that size would practically monopolize the Lionsguardâs exports. Youâd be their only client.â
âExactly,â Linne replied smoothly. âWhich means fewer complications. And we pay well enough that the arrangement benefits both sides.â
Ludger stayed quiet, studying them, the calm precision of their words, the way the runic sigils on their sleeves pulsed faintly every few seconds, as if measuring reactions.
He wasnât sure what bothered him more, the scale of their offer, or how confidently they already
knew
what he could deliver.
Linne turned another page in her ledger, her tone still crisp and neutral. âOf course, such a large-scale exchange comes with⊠logistical expectations.â
Dalan adjusted his gloves and leaned forward slightly. âTo clarify: the Lionsguard will handle all matters of transport and security for the shipments. The goods are to be delivered
directly
to our receiving stations on League soil. Weâre not interested in splitting responsibility with the Empireâs bureaucrats.â
Torvaresâs eyes narrowed slightly. âSo, no imperial caravans, no state inspection, and no escorts provided by the League?â
âPrecisely,â Linne said smoothly. âIt keeps things cleaner. Fewer eyes. Fewer unnecessary tariffs.â
Dalan nodded. âWeâll not pay the Empireâs taxes for crossing their borders either. If the Empire demands tariffs, that will be the Lionsguardâs problem to negotiate. Consider it⊠part of the business risk.â
That earned a faint scowl from Torvares. âYou want to move imperial goods through the Leagueâs gates while pretending neither government exists. Thatâs not risk, thatâs insanity.â
Linne met his stare without flinching. âThatâs
commerce.
The Empire takes its cut from every border crossing; the League prefers to pay directly for results. Our price reflects that convenience.â
The tension in the room thickened, and Ludger could feel Maurien shift behind him, not in protest, but like a wolf watching a trap being baited.
Torvares exhaled slowly through his nose, his voice cooling to something sharper. âThen let me ask the obvious question. What
guarantees
does the Lionsguard have in League territory? If the guildâs caravan is ambushed or stolen, will the League compensate us?â
Dalan spread his hands slightly. âThe League is not lawless. Our trade routes are stable, our cities well protected. Youâll find no safer ground to move your materials.â
Linne added, âBut should you encounter trouble from⊠criminal elements,â she gave a small, deliberate pause, âthen you are free to eliminate the problem as you see fit. The Leagueâs local laws will not interfere, if those attackers exist at all, as you claimed.â
That last phrase carried just enough emphasis to make it clear they were covering themselves.
Torvaresâs brows furrowed deeper. âSo, in short, we protect the shipments, we pay the tariffs, we handle the transport, and if something goes wrong in
your
country, we get to clean it up for you.â
Linne smiled faintly. âThatâs one way to phrase it, Lord Torvares. But consider the upside: one hundred diamond coins a month for a product you already produce. You gain profit and reach, and the League gains reliability.â
Ludger kept his expression neutral, though his mind was turning fast.
Theyâre not just buying froststeel and cores,
he realized.
Theyâre buying control.
He didnât say it aloud, not yet, but when he glanced at Torvares, he could tell the old man had reached the same conclusion.
Ludger leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his gaze fixed now on Rufas Dalmoren, who up until that point had watched the exchange like a man observing an experiment he already knew the outcome of.
âAlright,â Ludger said evenly. âLetâs say we go along with this arrangement. The Lionsguard moves the shipments, keeps them secure, deals with the tariffs, and delivers them directly to your stations.â
He tilted his head just a fraction. âWhat, exactly, does the Empire get out of all this?â
Rufas smiled faintly, that kind of smile that belonged to someone whoâd already rehearsed the answer. âThe standard cut, of course. The Empire takes ten percent of all business dealings involving materials that cross its borders. Itâs the law.â
He brushed a speck of imaginary dust off his sleeve and continued, tone as smooth as glass. âThat would be ten diamond coins per shipment, paid directly to the Treasuryâs trade commission.â
For a moment, Ludger didnât move. His face stayed perfectly still, too still, but the vein just above his left temple began to twitch.
Ten diamond coins,
he thought.
For what?
They werenât providing guards. They werenât providing wagons. They werenât even pretending to help.
Ten diamond coins, roughly the equivalent of ten thousand dollars by his old-world measure, every month,
just for existing on the map.
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