Chapter 612

Silva had accepted Ludger because Ludger had forced the negotiation with some chops, healing, stubbornness, and sheer refusal to be intimidated.

That wouldn’t scale.

He couldn’t wrestle and heal and “aggressively pat” twenty dire wolves into loyalty. Not without losing arms. Not without wasting time he didn’t have. And he couldn’t just throw meat at them like a farmer.

These weren’t dogs. They were proud. Territorial. Predatory. Social in their own brutal way. They would test him. They would bite him. They would kill anyone who tried to handle them wrong. Ludger exhaled, eyes narrowed as he ran, already building the problem into smaller parts.

Step one: get close without being treated like prey. Step two: show value without showing weakness. Step three: make it easy for them to follow.

The last one was the key. Dire wolves didn’t join you because you asked nicely. They joined because you offered something that made sense to their instincts. Food. Territory. Safety. Purpose. A pack worth belonging to. Ludger’s gaze hardened as Silva crested a ridge and slowed slightly, scenting the air like he’d found the trail he wanted.

“Alright,” Ludger muttered under his breath. “I need a deal.”

Because the wolves wouldn’t care about rail politics. They would care about what the Lionsguard could become. And Ludger had to figure out how to sell that in a language made of teeth.

While Ludger was working on that plan, Arslan came home the next day with a headache that had been chewing at him since he left Torvares’ manor. It wasn’t the kind of headache that came from loud noise or too much drink. It was the kind that came from politics, smiles with teeth, careful words, and decisions that tried to crawl under your skin and stay there.

By the time Lionfang’s walls came into view, his jaw was tight and his eyes felt like sand had been poured behind them. He rubbed at his temple as he walked, as if pressure alone could push the thoughts back out.

When he reached the door, he paused long enough to listen. No squeals. No stampede. No tiny gremlins throwing themselves at his legs with murderous affection. Arslan let out a slow breath of relief.

At least the twins were sleeping. He wouldn’t have to greet them with a face that looked like someone had dragged him behind a horse. He stepped inside quietly.

Elaine was there, already moving, already aware, like she’d felt him cross the threshold before the latch clicked. She took one look at him and her expression softened, not with pity, but with that sharp, steady understanding she carried like armor.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she said.

Arslan huffed a humorless breath. “Feels like it.”

He slipped his boots off and rolled his shoulders as if that could shake the manor off him. “Torvares and I were making preparations,” he said, voice low. “Since Ludger wasn’t around to give his input.”

Elaine’s eyes narrowed slightly, not at him, but at the situation. She’d been living under the same clouds. She just didn’t let them show on her face in front of the children.

“He returned yesterday,” she said.

Arslan blinked, surprise cutting through the fatigue. “Yesterday?”

Elaine nodded once. “He was home for a couple of hours.”

Then she added, a faint edge of resignation in her tone, “And then he left again. Determined to do something that seemed important.”

Arslan closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course. Of course the boy came back from the north, took one look at the mess, and immediately went hunting for a way to fix it with his own hands. Arslan exhaled slowly, headache pulsing again.

“What did he say?” he asked.

Elaine’s gaze drifted toward the hallway where the twins slept, then back to him. “Not much. Just… that he wouldn’t let them control us.”

Arslan’s mouth tightened. That sounded like Ludger. That sounded like trouble. And somehow, despite the ache behind his eyes, Arslan felt a thin thread of relief. Because if Ludger was moving, then the guild wasn’t just waiting for the Regent’s deadline to tighten.

It was preparing to bite back. Arslan sank into a chair like his bones had finally accepted they were allowed to be tired. He rubbed his forehead once more, then let his hand drop.

“It sounds like he came back successful,” he said quietly. “That northern training… whatever he found up there, it worked.”

Elaine’s eyes stayed on him, calm and sharp.

Arslan’s mouth tightened. “But I don’t want him picking a fight with the Regent.” He exhaled through his nose. “Even if he learned how to split rocks with his mind.”

Elaine’s expression didn’t change much, but something in her gaze cooled. “Do you think Ludger would go that far?” she asked. “Far enough to cause a civil war?”

Arslan shook his head immediately, so fast it looked like instinct rather than thought.

“No.”

Elaine studied him. “Why are you so sure?”

Arslan leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like it held a map he needed to read.

“Because a civil war doesn’t benefit anyone,” he said, and his voice carried the tired certainty of a man who’d seen what war did when it came home. “Not the Regent. Not the nobles. Not the frontier. Not us.”

He raised a hand, counting the reasons off with the same blunt practicality he used on patrol.

“First, war breaks the realm.” He looked back at Elaine. “Trade collapses. Taxes don’t get collected. Roads become bandit territory. Every ‘neutral’ lord starts playing both sides. The Empire’s enemies smell blood.”

“And the Empire?” Elaine asked.

Arslan’s jaw tightened. “The Empire doesn’t need to invade here if the realm tears itself apart. They can support factions, buy traitors, and step in ‘to restore order.’ Or they just wait until we are exhausted and then squeeze.” He paused. “And we already have enough knives in the dark. Rodericks missing. Old houses stirring. A hidden heir. Civil war would turn all of that into fire.”

Elaine’s gaze sharpened at the mention of the heir, but Arslan continued before she could speak.

“Second, frontier wars get worse during civil wars,” he said. “Northerners will be hard to work with. And Lionfang?” He shook his head. “Lionfang becomes a prize. Everyone comes for it.”

Elaine’s fingers tightened on the edge of her blanket.

“Third, Ludger isn’t stupid,” Arslan said, and there was a quiet pride in it that he didn’t try to hide. “He’s harsh, yes. He’s ambitious. But he thinks about the costs.”

He tapped his temple once. “He knows a civil war is a losing game. Even if he wins a battle, he loses the future. The guild doesn’t become free, it becomes hunted. Torvares doesn’t become strong, it becomes a target. And the people here, our people, get ground into paste between noble flags.”

Arslan’s gaze drifted toward the hallway where the twins slept, and his voice softened a fraction.

“And he cares about that. In his own way,” Arslan added. “He doesn’t show it with words. He shows it by building walls, fixing fields, feeding mouths, and doing ugly things so others don’t have to.”

Elaine’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. She knew that truth too well.

“So no,” Arslan finished, looking back at her. “Ludger won’t start a civil war.”

He rubbed his forehead again, the headache still there, still pulsing.

“But he

will

scare them,” Arslan said. “He’ll find leverage. He’ll make the Regent regret treating us like we have no choice.”

Elaine exhaled slowly.

“That,” she murmured, “sounds like him.”

The next morning, Arslan headed to the guild with a familiar weight in his chest.

Not armor. Not steel. Responsibility.

He walked through Lionfang’s streets with his cloak pulled tight, nodding at familiar faces, taking in the rhythm of the town the way he always did, who looked relaxed, who looked tense, which guards were talking too much, which merchants were watching the walls instead of their coin.

But his mind wasn’t on patrol. It was on Ludger.

What is he up to this time?

The boy had returned, stayed long enough to breathe, then disappeared again like the town itself was too slow for his thoughts. Arslan didn’t like not knowing where his son was putting his hands.

He liked it even less that he could guess the direction. Ludger had never been good at waiting. Arslan’s jaw tightened as he approached the guild. On the surface, the Regent’s offer was poison dressed as honor. Viscount for Arslan. Lucius’ territory. Rail construction. Loyalty.

A leash. But it was also… power. Real power, recognized in ink and titles and authority the capital understood. And Arslan found himself doing something he hated. He was planning how to sell it.

He was already shaping the words in his head, arranging them like pieces on a board, looking for the angle that would make Ludger listen instead of bristle.

Accepting it might be the best option,

he thought grimly.

Not because he trusted the Regent. Because refusing without leverage was how you got crushed.

With that title, Lionsguard would gain official standing. Influence. Legitimacy. The ability to push back without being branded bandits or rebels. Rail lines could be a leash, but they could also be an artery. A way to move men, supplies, trade, and information faster than any rival along the frontier.

And if they played it right…

They’d have influence in both north and south. They’d be the force that held the frontier together when everyone else was squabbling over titles. In a few years, they could become a pillar the Empire,

the realm

, couldn’t ignore.

Arslan hated how clean the thought was. It sounded like the kind of logic men used right before they justified doing something they’d once sworn they’d never do. He didn’t like that he was thinking like a backstabber, like someone preparing to kneel with one hand while hiding a knife behind his back. But he also knew the truth: he couldn’t afford to be proud.

Any action here didn’t just affect a guild. It affected his family. It affected Elaine. It affected the twins sleeping in warm beds because the walls held. It affected Ludger, who would carry consequences in his bones long after Arslan was dead.

Arslan exhaled slowly. Even if one had the power to crush the entire capital… There were other ways to fight. Ways that didn’t create more enemies than you could count. Ways that turned pressure into position instead of fire into ash.

He walked with that thought in his chest and one goal in his mind: Find Ludger. And make him listen, before the deadline turned their options into a noose.

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