A few months slid by like stones rolling downhill. Morning runs with weights, hours spent healing at the tavern, evenings mapping and grinding in the goblin labyrinth—day after day until the routine felt like a second skin.

Then one crisp morning Ludger blinked and realized he’d turned nine. Nine already. Half a year had passed without assassins in the alleys, without any of Viola’s sudden challenges in the yard or demands for a rematch. The house had been strangely quiet, and the absence of her voice and energy left gaps in the days he hadn’t noticed at first.

He sat at the back table of the tavern before the first customers arrived, idly spinning a gold coin between his fingers. I don’t even know how things are going on her end, he thought. Her Grandfather’s estate, training, politics… whatever it is, she’s not here hammering at my door anymore.

He slipped the coin into his pouch and stood, rolling his shoulders, the familiar weight of his armguards settling into place. Whatever was happening on Viola’s side, Ludger had his own grind—his own plans, his own goals. Training, saving, building. Piece by piece.

He pushed open the tavern door and stepped out into the cool morning air. The street was already waking up, and so was he.

Elaine paused in the doorway, a stack of clean linens balanced on her hip. Through the open window she could see Ludger at the back table, checking his potion vials with a calm, methodical precision. His movements weren’t the distracted fidgets of a child; they were measured, deliberate, almost ritualistic.

He always acted more mature than his age — sometimes, she thought, more mature than his father — but now there was a different edge to him. His eyes stayed on the work even when the tavern was quiet. He moved with purpose, like someone chasing a target only he could see.

Elaine bit her lip, watching him in silence for a long moment. She didn’t know half of what he was doing once he slipped out before dawn or came home steaming from exertion. But she could tell. The late nights, the weights, the steady coin counting — it all added up to something bigger.

Too big, maybe, for a boy who’d just turned nine.

She set the linens down and brushed her hands off, the faintest crease of worry between her brows. He’s working hard, she thought. Too hard for a kid his age. But when he caught her eye and gave her that small, tired smile, she couldn’t bring herself to scold him. Not yet.

She turned back to her chores, watching from the corner of her eye as her son shouldered his little pack and stepped out into the street, already looking more like a young adventurer than the healer at the tavern.

Elaine stood in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a cloth. Across the room, Arslan sat in the corner sharpening his sword, slow rasping strokes echoing through the house. She watched the sparks jump off the edge for a moment, then sighed.

“Arslan,” she said quietly, “you have to find a way to slow Ludger down. He needs to play with other children, not act like he’s preparing for a war.”

The rasping stopped. Arslan lifted his eyes from the blade, frowning slightly. “He’s not playing soldier, Elaine. He’s training.”

“That’s exactly my point.” She set the cloth down, crossing her arms. “He’s nine. He should be chasing street dogs or climbing trees, not running laps with weights and sneaking off who to knows where.”

Arslan scratched the back of his head, looking away. He’d thought the same thing once or twice, but every time he saw the fire in the boy’s eyes he recognized it. He’s pushing himself to beat me one day, he admitted inwardly. It’d be lame to try and stop him now.

Still, he caught the worry etched in Elaine’s face. She wasn’t wrong. Ludger’s drive was starting to look like obsession.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “He’s… different. Stopping him would be like trying to stop a river.”

“That doesn’t mean you do nothing,” Elaine said softly.

Arslan set the whetstone down and exhaled through his nose. “Alright. I’ll talk to him. Or at least try. No promises, but… I won’t let you keep worrying yourself sick.”

He picked the blade back up, running his thumb along the edge, and for the first time in a while he wondered what kind of boy he was raising — and whether anyone could slow him down without breaking what made him strong.

Arslan pushed himself up from the chair, the whetstone still in his hand. Alright, he thought, I’ll talk to the boy now before he heads out again. He took a step toward the back door.

A sharp scrape sounded behind him — wood against wood. He turned his head and froze.

Elaine was standing by the table, one hand clamped on the edge like a lifeline. Her knuckles were white. The color had drained from her face, leaving her lips pale. For a heartbeat she swayed, eyes unfocused, like she might crumple to the floor.

Arslan’s eyes went wide. The whetstone hit the floor with a dull thud. “Elaine—!”

He dashed across the room in two strides, catching her by the shoulders just as her knees buckled. Her skin was clammy under his palms. “Stay with me,” he barked, voice sharper than he meant it to be. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to say something but only managed a faint, broken sound.

Arslan’s stomach turned cold. He lifted his head and roared, the sound filling the house and rattling the windows. “LUDGER!”

The force of his shout made the cutlery on the counter jump and the whole house seem to tremble.

The moment Arslan’s roar shook the house, Ludger’s heart slammed against his ribs. He was halfway down the street when it hit, and his body moved before his brain did. He vaulted the fence, sprinted across the yard, and crashed through the back door in a burst of splinters and dust, armguards glowing faintly.

“Who’s attacking—?!” he barked, eyes scanning for enemies.

Instead of raiders or assassins, he saw his father crouched beside Elaine, one arm around her shoulders to keep her upright. Her face was pale, eyes half-lidded, lips trembling.

Ludger dropped to his knees beside them, mana already gathering in his palms. “Mother—”

Green light washed over Elaine’s skin. He moved his hands along her arms, checking for breaks, bruises, punctures—anything. Nothing. Her vitals were steady, her skin clammy but uninjured. The spell sank in and fizzled out with nowhere to go.

He looked up, jaw tight. “No wounds. Nothing to heal.”

Elaine groaned, lifting a hand to her temple. “By the gods, Arslan… did you have to scream like that?” Her voice was weak but sharp. “You made me dizzier than I already was.”

Arslan’s grip eased slightly. “You were about to collapse—”

“I just stood up too fast,” she muttered, brushing at his hands. “Now both of you are looking at me like I’m dying.”

She pushed herself upright with surprising stubbornness, swaying once before steadying. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced between them. “What’s the big deal? You act like the house is on fire.”

Ludger blinked, still crouched, hands glowing faintly. The adrenaline that had driven him through the wall was still buzzing in his veins. Arslan exhaled hard, running a hand down his face. “You nearly fell over, that’s the big deal.”

Elaine shook her head, muttering under her breath about men and their dramatics, while Ludger’s pulse slowly began to steady.

Elaine finally let Arslan steer her into a chair. She sat down with a small huff, rubbing her temples while muttering about overprotective men. Ludger knelt beside her, the glow of his spell fading from his palms. His own heartbeat was still hammering from the sprint and the crash.

He stared at her for a second longer. Did I worry her too much? he wondered, guilt flickering in his chest. All his early mornings, the training, the labyrinth runs—maybe she’d been carrying that weight more than he realized.

A thought slid in, sharper than the rest. He shifted a little closer. “Mother,” he said quietly, “are you feeling anything else? Aside from the dizziness?”

She glanced at him, brows raised. “What do you mean?”

“Anything strange. Pain, numbness, headaches. Anything at all.”

Elaine blew out a slow breath. “No… nothing like that.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m just a bit out of shape, that’s all. And lately the smell of fish makes me want to throw the whole kitchen out the window.” A faint, embarrassed smile flickered across her face. “But other than that, nothing.”

Ludger watched her closely, still crouched by her chair. The answer didn’t ease the knot in his chest, but at least it was something. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Out of shape… and hating fish. That’s all.

Arslan stood behind them, arms crossed but eyes softer now, the earlier panic ebbing. The house smelled faintly of sawdust from the broken door, but for the moment everything was still.

Ludger stayed crouched by her chair a moment longer, eyes narrowing as the pieces in his head shuffled. Out of shape. Dizzy. Hating the smell of fish. His pulse picked up.

He turned his head toward his father. “Dad,” he said evenly, “can you… maybe find a woman who knows about childbirth? Someone experienced?”

Arslan’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Elaine blinked at him, then actually laughed, a short incredulous sound. “Childbirth? Ludger, what on earth are you thinking?”

“You’ve been dizzy,” Ludger said, still serious. “Smells making you sick. It could—”

Elaine cut him off with a shake of her head, a flush of color returning to her cheeks. “Absolutely not. I am not pregnant.” She looked between father and son like they’d both lost their minds. “I’m just getting older, that’s all. Tired. And fish always smelled bad, I’m just finally admitting it.”

Arslan snapped his mouth shut, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking faintly stunned. “Older…?” he muttered.

Elaine rolled her eyes. “I’m in my twenties, Arslan, not some village elder. I’m just worn out. Nothing weird’s happening.”

Ludger leaned back on his heels, expression unreadable, but at least the tension in his shoulders eased a little. “Alright,” he said finally. “Just making sure.”

Elaine shook her head again, muttering about overdramatic men as she reached for the cup of water on the table. Arslan exhaled slowly, still pale but starting to chuckle under his breath. The scare passed, leaving only the smell of sawdust from the broken door and a houseful of frayed nerves.

Arslan chuckled once, but the sound came out thin. A bead of sweat slid down his temple as he wiped at his neck. Ludger caught the look and narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping across his face.

He didn’t want to imagine it, but the math wasn’t hard: every dawn he was running the streets with iron on his arms and every evening he was grinding his skills away from home. His parents had a lot of quiet hours alone. He grimaced inwardly. Please don’t make me think about that.

Arslan cleared his throat and reached for his whetstone again, trying to look anywhere but at his son.

Ludger exhaled and straightened, brushing dust from his knees. “Fine,” he said flatly. “Mother says she’s not pregnant, you’re both… healthy. I’ll take her word for it.”

He glanced at Elaine, then at the scattered tavern accounts sitting on the counter. “I’ll manage the tavern for a while instead of her. She should rest, at least until we’re sure what’s going on.” His tone was firm but not unkind. “And I’ll bring Aronia by to check on her. That should be enough.”

Elaine opened her mouth to protest but Ludger raised a hand. “Just until you’re steady again. No arguments.”

Arslan scratched at his stubble, still sweating bullets but nodding anyway. “Good idea,” he muttered.

Ludger turned toward the door, already shifting into planning mode. Tavern, training, labyrinth. And now making sure Mother’s looked after. He didn’t like the picture in his head, but at least he could do something useful while he pushed it out of his mind.

Later that afternoon, Ludger returned to the house with Aronia in tow. The half-dryad adjusted her satchel as they stepped into the kitchen, giving Ludger a sideways look. “You dragged me here like the place was on fire,” she muttered. “At least tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

Elaine, still pale but steady, sat at the table sipping tea. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” she said dryly. “I feel fine.”

Aronia crouched beside her anyway, pulling a few sprigs of something from her satchel and running a glowing fingertip over Elaine’s wrist. “I’m no midwife, Ludger,” she said over her shoulder. “Potions and herbs are my lane, not… this.”

“Just check,” Ludger said, arms crossed.

Aronia sighed and closed her eyes, letting a thin line of detection magic slide through Elaine’s aura. A soft green glow passed from her fingers up Elaine’s arm. For a moment she said nothing, then her eyes blinked open, expression shifting.

“…Well,” she murmured, looking from Elaine to Ludger and back. “You weren’t wrong to be suspicious.”

Elaine frowned. “What does that mean?”

Aronia straightened slowly, wiping her hand on her cloak. “It means you’re not sick. You’re pregnant.”

The kitchen went dead quiet. Elaine blinked once, twice, the color draining from her face in a different way now. Arslan, who had been hovering by the counter, froze like he’d been struck. Ludger just stood there, expression flat but eyes sharp, his suspicions confirmed.

Aronia raised her hands. “Don’t look at me. I said I wasn’t experienced, but even I can read an aura that is clear. Congratulations… I guess?”

Elaine sat back in her chair, stunned, while Arslan rubbed the back of his neck hard enough to leave a mark. Ludger exhaled slowly, already thinking of everything that would change.

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