The Torvares estate was ahead just as Ludger remembered it: high stone walls trimmed with ivy, iron gates flanked by armored guards, banners hanging still in the morning air. He’d only been here twice before, and both times Viola had been in the yard, practicing or waiting. This time the yard was empty—no clash of steel, no grunts of effort—just a couple of guards making their rounds and servants moving briskly between the outbuildings.

He slowed to a walk as he approached the main door, adjusting the weights on his arms and legs, and gave his name to the guard. A servant appeared a moment later and bowed slightly. “This way, Master Ludger.”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

“Excuse me? My name is Roland, sir.”

“Don’t mind me.”

He followed the servant through familiar hallways lined with tapestries and polished wood, the scent of oil and dustless stone filling his nose. The estate felt quieter than it had during his last visits, the echo of his footsteps louder than he liked.

They stopped at a set of double doors and the servant gestured inside. “Please wait here. Lord Torvares will be informed of your arrival.”

Ludger stepped into the living room. It was all polished floors, heavy curtains, and a long, low couch that looked like it had been carved from a single tree trunk and upholstered in dark green. He sat down, resting his hands on his knees. The cushions were too soft, the room too quiet.

This was a serious meeting, but the trappings of it—the formal bowing, the waiting—made his skin itch. He wasn’t here to be treated like some official visitor or pampered guest. He was here to talk straight and walk back out. He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the room as he settled in to wait for the old bull.

Half an hour crawled by. Ludger shifted on the overstuffed couch, fingers drumming against his knee. The silence of the room pressed on him heavier than his training weights. This is ridiculous, he thought. I’m not some diplomat here to sip tea.

He was about to stand when the door creaked open. Heavy footsteps shuffled across the polished floor. Ludger glanced up—and stopped.

Lord Torvares entered the room looking nothing like the man in Ludger’s memories. The last time he’d seen him up close and at his peak was at the tournament a year ago, the old bull roaring himself hoarse from the stands, slamming his cane on the floor with every good strike. That image had been all booming voice and iron presence.

This man moved slowly, shoulders sagging under a fine coat, eyes ringed with dark shadows. His steps had weight but no fire, like someone walking uphill all day. Even the way he lowered himself into the chair across from Ludger was deliberate, careful, as though joints and breath had started to betray him.

Ludger blinked once, understanding dawning. So that’s why they kept me waiting. The old bull was tired. Not just tired—worn. It was a far cry from the lord who’d once filled an arena with his voice.

Torvares gave him a thin, tired smile. “You’re annoyed,” he said, voice lower and rougher than before. “Forgive the delay. It’s been… a long morning.”

Ludger straightened, studying him. Whatever he’d come to say, he was going to have to adjust his approach. This wasn’t the same man from a year ago.

Ludger decided to hold back his pitch for now. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You look… tired,” he said. “Not how I remember you.”

Torvares gave a dry little laugh and waved a hand. “Sharp eyes. I’ve been dealing with too many problems since the border conflict. Paperwork, bickering nobles, troop movements, merchants whining about caravans. Half my nights are spent reading reports by candlelight.”

He rubbed at his chest with a knuckle. “And I’ve been catching colds. Nothing serious, but enough to wear me down. My health’s been on the decline lately.”

Ludger studied him with a serious gaze. Up close the old bull’s skin looked paler than it used to, the lines around his eyes deeper. Torvares had always seemed like an immovable pillar — even in his late fifties he’d looked strong, voice booming, presence filling any room. Now, edging into his sixties, it seemed even age was beginning to chip at the stone.

The boy’s fingers tightened slightly on his knees. This isn’t the same man who roared over the tournament stands. He’s still powerful, but time’s catching up to him.

Torvares noticed the look but didn’t comment, just shifted in his chair with a faint creak of joints. “So,” he said, voice still low but steady. “What brings you to me, Ludger?”

Ludger sat very still on the couch, hands laced loosely in front of him. The old bull’s words about sleepless nights and creeping sickness still hung in the air, heavier than the velvet curtains. Up close Torvares didn’t look like a baron or a banner anymore; he looked like a man who had spent too many winters at the front and was finally starting to show the cracks.

I came here to drop my plan on his desk, Ludger thought. To talk about a guild, a labyrinth, a town to be rebuilt. He could almost feel the parchment and numbers he’d been rehearsing pressed against his ribs. But now… now he saw the dark hollows under Torvares’ eyes, the way he shifted his weight like his joints hurt.

He’s already carrying the Empire’s dirty work for a Viscount who doesn’t even send help, Ludger told himself. And I’m about to hand him one more burden. That’s not a plan, that’s cruelty.

Ludger’s jaw flexed, eyes narrowing. If I add my ambitions to his load and it breaks him, then what? Viola loses the one anchor she’s had. And I’d be the one who snapped it.

The room’s silence stretched. Torvares waited patiently, but Ludger’s thoughts ran faster. Do I keep this to myself? Do I change the pitch? Do I look for another backer first?

His fingers drummed once against his knee. If I really want to think and act big, I can’t just charge ahead because it’s convenient for me. I have to choose a way to build this guild without destroying the people who could make it possible.

He drew a slow, quiet breath, still weighing every angle before opening his mouth.

Lord Torvares leaned back in his chair, catching the look on Ludger’s face. For a heartbeat his tired expression cracked, then a deep, gravelly laugh rolled out of him. It wasn’t the booming roar from the tournament, but it still had weight.

“You’re sitting there with that serious face, boy,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking about my health, about how tired I look. Wondering if you’re about to dump too much on an old man.”

He waved a hand, still chuckling. “I appreciate the consideration, but I don’t need your pity. I’m old, not dead.”

His gaze softened a fraction. “And speaking of things I’ve been remiss about…” He leaned forward slightly. “I forgot to thank you. For looking after Viola for almost a year under your roof, and then learning from Gaius with her. Most don’t realize what it takes to host a Torvares heir, much less keep her alive and training. I also noticed her growth, you have been a good presence in her life.”

Ludger blinked but stayed quiet.

Torvares sat back again, straightening his coat. “Normally I don’t receive visitors without a scheduled audience. Saves me from interruptions and politics. But you’ve been good to my granddaughter, and you came anyway.” He gave a small nod. “So don’t hesitate. Whatever you came here to say, say it. No need to dance around.”

He rested his elbows on the armrests, eyes still tired but glinting faintly like steel behind smoke. “I can take it.”

Ludger shifted on the couch, taking the opening but starting with something simpler. “Where’s Viola?” he asked. “I expected to see her in the yard like before.”

Torvares let out a small breath through his nose. “With Luna,” he said. “They’ve been buried in books for weeks now. She’s focusing on her studies, almost too much for my liking. Rarely trains anymore.”

The old bull’s brows drew together, just a hint of a frown forming. “She’s got her reasons, I suppose. My guess is she’s trying to prepare herself to help me sooner with the work of managing the family’s territory.” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t fault her for it, but she’s still young. It’s… strange, seeing her trade the sword for ledgers.”

Ludger absorbed that in silence, picturing his half-sister bent over a desk while Luna hovered nearby. So even she’s thinking ahead to running the estate, he thought. We’re all getting pushed into grown-up games whether we want to or not.

Torvares shifted in his chair, the tired lines on his face softening as he added, “She’ll be back to training soon enough. It’s in her blood. But right now… she’s trying to be ready.”

Ludger drew a slow breath. Enough circling. He sat up straighter on the couch, meeting Torvares’ eyes head-on.

“I didn’t come here just to ask about Viola,” he said quietly. “I came to tell you what I’m planning.”

Torvares leaned back, one brow rising, but said nothing.

“I want to create a guild,” Ludger went on. “Not just any guild — one based in the town we recovered. I want to take that labyrinth and make it ours. Full control, no matter the cost. A place where adventurers work under a banner that’s actually competent, where we can train, protect, and grow instead of being thrown to the wolves.”

Torvares’ fingers curled on the armrest, his tired eyes sharpening a fraction. Ludger pressed on.

“I’m not saying it’ll happen tomorrow,” he said. “I know I’m nine, I know the size of what I’m talking about. But I’m already planning for the future. Building coin. Training. Mapping labyrinths. I’m laying the ground before I even break it.”

He leaned forward, voice steady but low. “That’s why I came to you. I don’t just want to plant a guild in someone else’s territory and wait to be crushed. I came to ask if there’s anything I can do — anything we can do — to help you gain enough influence to bring that town under your banner, and the labyrinth with it. If you can secure it, then we can build something real. A partnership.”

The room went still. The only sound was the faint tick of a clock on the far wall.

Torvares didn’t blink. The tiredness in his face hadn’t vanished, but behind it something old and hard flickered back to life — the look of a man weighing a battlefield. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t scoff, didn’t laugh. He just watched Ludger with a serious gaze, eyes like dull iron studying the boy across from him as if taking his measure for the first time.

Ludger held that stare without flinching, his heart thudding but his voice steady. “That’s my goal,” he said. “I don’t want to stumble into this. I want to build it right from the start.”

Torvares sat back slowly, fingers steepled, silent but no longer tired in the same way — the old bull listening, eyes calculating.

Torvares let the silence stretch for a long moment, eyes fixed on the boy in front of him. He’d known Ludger wouldn’t show up at his estate for some small errand — the kid had always been too deliberate for that — but the scope of what he’d just heard still caught him off guard.

“A guild of your own…” he murmured, steepling his fingers. “In the recovered town. Full control over the labyrinth.” His gaze sharpened, but there was no mockery in it. “That’s… bigger than I expected, Ludger. Interesting, to say the least.”

He sat back a little, studying the boy like a general studying a battle map. “The idea has value,” he said slowly. “A lot of value. But there are issues you may not see yet — politics, manpower, coin, timing. It’s not just a matter of walking in and planting a flag.”

Ludger leaned forward, eyes steady. “My father will deal with that part,” he said. “He’s agreed to handle the management, the permits, the merchants. He wants to settle down more anyway. With a third kid coming, he’s not going to be running off to labyrinths left and right.”

Torvares blinked at that, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face again. Then the corner of his mouth curled into a dry smile. “So you’ve already thought of the command structure.” He exhaled through his nose, eyes still fixed on Ludger. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

The old bull tapped one finger against the armrest, his tired expression slowly shifting into something closer to his old self — a man who saw the shape of a fight and was already measuring its odds. “Alright,” he said at last. “Tell me more.”

Ludger didn’t waste the opening Torvares had given him. He straightened his back, meeting the old bull’s gaze without wavering.

“The guild will need some basic support at the start,” he said. “I already have some funds saved up, but that won’t solve everything — not manpower, not credibility. If I just throw up a sign and start taking contracts, we’ll get every cut-throat and drifter looking for a free meal.”

Torvares’ eyes narrowed slightly but he stayed silent, letting the boy speak.

“That’s why I came to you,” Ludger continued. “I want to use the Torvares name to screen recruits. To handle the analysis and recruitment of new members. With your banner on the paperwork, we can keep the worst out and pull in people who are actually worth training. In exchange…”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice steady. “In exchange the guild gives priority to Torvares business. We help your family first. We take jobs to stabilize your territory, protect your caravans, deal with problems before they reach your villages. Anyone working under your banner gets priority support from us.”

Torvares’ fingers drummed once on the armrest. Ludger held his stare.

“I’m not asking for coin I haven’t earned,” he said. “I’m asking for your name. With that, I can build something solid from the ground up, and you’ll have a loyal force operating on the border that owes you for its start.”

The old bull’s gaze was sharp now, the fatigue pushed aside as he weighed the offer like a blade in his hand.

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