Chapter 678

Rathen’s expression tightened, complicated and ugly.

“Once Ironhand started pulling higher quality mana cores,” Rathen said, “they received a job request.”

He paused. Then said it anyway.

“From the new rulers of the coast.”

Viola’s face shifted, instantly alert. Luna’s eyes narrowed. Shera’s interest sharpened like a hook. Rathen kept going, voice measured, like he was reading a sentence he’d rather not know.

“The family that replaced House Rakuen,” Rathen said. “The family that took the command Lucius once had.”

A faint tension ran through Viola at the mention of Lucius, but she didn’t interrupt. Her eyes stayed fixed on Rathen, cold and attentive.

“They requested the parts of the runic golems guardian,” Rathen finished. “Specifically.”

For a second, the only sound was the wind in the sails.

Then everyone’s eyes drifted, slowly, almost unwillingly, back to Ludger. Not accusatory. Not hostile. Just… complicated. Because everyone on that deck understood the shape of it.

That family had gained power because the region needed a noble house. And Ludger, Ludger had refused the title.

He’d refused to become the local noble family and anchor the coast under his name. He’d refused the crown’s leash, refused the optics, refused the pageantry. Which meant someone else had been installed.

Someone else now wore the authority that Lucius once held. And that someone else had immediately started making requests that smelled like the capital and labyrinths and secrets dragged out of the deep.

Ludger felt his face tighten, not from embarrassment, he didn’t do embarrassment, but from the sharp sting of being right and wrong at the same time. He stared at the sea, then at the deck, then at the silent faces watching him.

“Perhaps,” Ludger said slowly, voice flat as stone, “half of this situation is my fault.”

He paused, then added with dry resignation:

“Not one third.”

No one laughed. Because the ocean around them was still, bright, and lying through its teeth.

And somewhere under that surface, a beast was waiting, drawn by guardian metal, by mana cores, by the greed of people who couldn’t stop digging even when the world tried to drown them for it.

Ludger didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t accuse. He just looked at Rathen, really looked, taking in the sweat at the brow, the tight grip on the wheel, the way his eyes kept flicking to his crew like he was trying to keep his world from cracking in public.

Then Ludger spoke, calm and sharp, putting the shape of it together like a ledger entry.

“So you operated like an ordinary guildmaster,” Ludger said.

Rathen’s jaw tightened. Ludger continued anyway, because the words were already true.

“You couldn’t count on Lucius backing anymore,” Ludger said. “Not politically. Not officially. Not in the way that keeps certain requests from reaching your desk.”

Viola’s eyes narrowed at the name. Luna’s gaze went distant for half a second, like she was measuring how much of that was guess and how much was reality. Ludger didn’t care about their reactions. He cared about the mechanism.

“Before,” Ludger said, “you had a shield. Someone with enough authority to say no, or at least delay, or redirect.” His gaze sharpened. “Now there’s a new family holding the coast’s command. New seals. New authority. And if they asked for guardian parts…”

He paused, letting it sink in.

“…you couldn’t refuse.”

Rathen’s shoulders stayed squared, but the silence around him turned heavier.

“Refusing that request would be dangerous,” Ludger said. “Not just for you. For your whole guild.” He nodded toward the crew and the ship itself, toward the reality of Ironhand’s dependence on contracts and permits and imperial goodwill. “You work for the Empire. Your routes, your docking rights, your contracts, everything depends on not being labeled ‘uncooperative.’”

He looked Rathen in the eyes now, voice still flat.

“And the new family?” Ludger continued. “They definitely have close ties to the Regent. If you say no, they don’t just get angry. They make examples. They cut contracts. They call you disloyal. They bury you in inspections until your guild starves.”

A slow exhale left Renvar, like he’d heard the truth and didn’t like how clean it sounded. Kaela’s expression went cold. Maurien’s eyes narrowed, the kind of narrowing that meant he was filing a name away for later.

Rathen didn’t deny it. He didn’t even try. He just stared ahead at the ocean, hands locked around the wheel like he could strangle the situation into something simpler.

That silence was an answer all on its own. Ludger nodded once, as if confirming what he’d already known.

“Fine,” he said quietly.

The deck stayed tense, but the tension shifted, from blame to grim acceptance. They were out here now. The past could be argued later. The sea didn’t wait for political autopsies. Ludger turned his head toward the horizon.

“We head to the next point,” he said.

Rathen blinked, then nodded, relief and duty mixing in his posture. A captain understood orders. Understood forward motion.

“Aye,” Rathen said, voice rough.

He raised his voice then, just enough to snap the crew back into their roles, back into the comfort of routine.

“Trim the sail! Keep the line tight! Eyes open, all of you!” Rathen barked. “We move to the next site, same pattern, same caution! No one daydreams on my deck!”

The crew jumped into motion. Rathen adjusted the wheel, shoulders settling into the familiar shape of responsibility. The ship angled, cutting a new course through the glittering water.

Ludger stayed by the rail, Mana Sense stretching outward again, quiet, patient, and searching. Because the wreck had already told him what the Empire was dragging from the depths. Now he just had to find out what the ocean was willing to kill for it.

The ocean looked calm again, the surface sparkling like it wanted to pretend it wasn’t guilty of anything. Waves rolled in clean, repeating rhythms. Wind tugged at the sails. The ship’s hull creaked in familiar, living sounds.

It should’ve been peaceful. Instead, Ludger’s mind kept pulling threads. He’d aimed for stability. Jobs. Walls. Food. A way to turn refugees into citizens by force of routine. Magic wine to keep coin flowing into Lionfang and out of the Empire’s grip. A method for the northerners and Lionsguard to coexist without blood.

Those were intentional outcomes, targets he’d picked and hit. And then there were the other outcomes. The ones he hadn’t aimed for. The ones that happened anyway, sliding in behind his plans like hidden blades.

Sigrid sharing tactics. Ironhand reaching deeper. Guardian parts being hauled out for a coastal family with ties to the Regent. A sea beast returning because someone started moving dense mana cargo again. Rathen stuck between survival and obedience because Lucius was no longer shielding the coast.

A chain reaction. And the irritating part was that he could see exactly where his fingerprints were on the first domino.

Not guilt,

he told himself.

Just accounting.

Footsteps approached behind him. He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.

Viola’s presence had a particular weight, confident, loud even when silent. Luna’s was quieter, but sharper, like a knife carried low. Viola stopped beside him, arms crossed, squinting at his profile like she was trying to diagnose something.

“You look depressed,” she said.

Luna leaned in slightly from behind her shoulder, gaze focused.

Ludger finally turned his head just enough for them to see his face. Not depressed. Calculating. A cold, thoughtful expression like he was building a wall in his head and deciding which stones went where.

Viola blinked, then shrugged like she’d been robbed of her expected dramatic moment.

“Huh,” she said. “Never mind. I can make fun of you instead of doing that annoying ‘you didn’t do anything wrong’ speech.”

Ludger’s eyes stayed on the water.

“I’ll wait for the ocean to freeze,” he said flatly, “before I expect you to be actually considerate.”

Viola scoffed, offended on principle. “I’m considerate enough.”

“You’re…” Ludger paused, as if searching for the right word and finding several crimes instead. “…consistent, in your inconsistency.”

“That’s the nicest insult you’ve ever given me,” Viola said, pleased.

Luna’s lips twitched.

Ludger didn’t respond. He turned back to the horizon, letting the sound of the waves fill the gap. For a while, none of them spoke. Not because there was nothing to say. Because the ocean had a way of making conversations feel small.

Then Ludger finally said it, quiet, like he didn’t want the ship to overhear.

“Things would’ve become easier,” Ludger said, “for Rathen and his guild… if I had accepted the offer.”

Viola’s smile faded. Luna’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Ludger’s voice stayed even, almost clinical.

“Maybe for everyone in this region,” he continued. “Clear authority. Clear chain of command. Less suspicion. More political cover. Less pressure from the new family, because there wouldn’t be a new family.” His gaze hardened. “I would’ve traded a bit of freedom. And in return, the coast would have had a shield that answered to the capital in the proper way.”

He didn’t say it like he regretted it. He said it like he was testing the thought for cracks. Viola exhaled, sharp and annoyed, at the idea more than at him.

“It wouldn’t be that simple,” she said.

Ludger glanced at her. Viola’s eyes were steady now, serious in a way she didn’t show often.

“The easiest path isn’t always the best,” she said. “Having the least resistance while giving up your usual goals, your morals, doesn’t solve problems. It just… delays them and makes them rot.”

She leaned on the rail beside him, the wind tugging at her hair.

“And capital schemes don’t stop,” Viola continued. “They don’t become satisfied. They become

comfortable.

Once you compromise once, they learn where the line is, and they push it every year until you wake up and realize you’re not running your life anymore.”

Luna nodded slightly, quiet agreement. Viola’s voice sharpened, conviction firm.

“So no,” she said. “You didn’t pick the ‘easy’ option. Good. Because the easy option would’ve been a slow surrender.” She looked at him, almost daring him to disagree. “Not compromising with the capital is the best option. For sure.”

Ludger listened without interrupting.

For a moment, the wind and waves were the only sounds. Then he gave a small nod, barely visible, but real.

“Probably,” Ludger said.

Viola’s mouth twitched. “That’s all I get?

Probably?

”

Ludger’s eyes stayed on the sea.

“I don’t like certainty that isn’t earned,” he said. “But… you’re not wrong.”

Viola huffed like she’d won and still wanted more. Luna remained quiet, but her gaze softened a fraction, less knife, more understanding. Ludger turned back to the ocean, Mana Sense stretching outward again. Whatever he’d chosen, the consequences were here now.

And if the ocean wanted to punish the region for imperial greed… Ludger would make sure it paid a price for trying.

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