When Ludger finally returned to the border town, the familiar sight of stone walls and newly reinforced gates came into view. The air smelled faintly of dust and smoke—signs of construction, not war. A good change.

Off in the distance, near the outer fields, he spotted tents clustered together in uneven rows. Northerners. Their campfires burned like small stars against the gray sky, warriors lounging or sharpening weapons as they waited. Probably holding position until Kharnek gave them the signal to move.

“Guess they’re settling in for the time being,” Ludger muttered.

He crossed through the gate, and made his way toward the guild building—a structure that, thankfully, still stood exactly as he’d left it. Mostly.

The sound hit him first. Laughter. Loud, rumbling, and half-slurred. The kind of laugh that shook the walls.

When Ludger stepped through the doorway, he stopped dead.

At the center of the hall sat Kharnek—the massive northerner commander—perched on a reinforced wooden table as if it were a throne. In one hand, he held a tankard the size of a bucket, and in the other, another tankard. Both were empty.

Across from him, Harold sat slumped over, face pale and glistening with sweat, one hand gripping his stomach. The other was braced against the floor to keep him from collapsing completely. A puddle of vomit spread at his boots like an ugly badge of defeat.

Ludger didn’t need to ask what had happened. The evidence spoke for itself.

He exhaled slowly through his nose and looked to the side—where Cor, Aleia, and Selene were standing like three guilty children caught in the act. None of them spoke.

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “So,” he said flatly, “which one of you thought letting that”—he gestured vaguely between the two men—“was a good idea?”

Cor adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat. “In our defense, he challenged Harold to a ‘drink of respect.’ Cultural exchange, you could say.”

Aleia winced. “We tried to stop them… after the fifth round.”

Selene just crossed her arms and muttered, “They both said backing out would be an insult to honor.”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Of course they did.”

Kharnek spotted him then and grinned, his deep voice rolling like thunder. “Ah, the little stone shaper returns. Your man drinks well—but not long!”

Harold groaned in response, head thudding against the table.

Ludger looked at him, then at the giant, and finally at the three so-called responsible adults standing by the wall. “…Next time he challenges someone to a contest,” Ludger said dryly, “make sure it’s something that doesn’t involve drowning in alcohol or regret.”

Cor nodded solemnly. “Noted.”

Kharnek raised his tankard with a booming laugh. “Then next time, we’ll fight instead!”

Ludger just stared at him, unimpressed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s somehow worse. Great idea.”

Ludger glanced at the puddle of misery that used to be Harold, then turned his attention to Kharnek, who was wiping foam from his beard with a grin that hadn’t faded since Ludger walked in.

“Right,” Ludger said, tone all business now. “Fun’s over. You ready to depart? Any minute we waste now will slow the progress up north.”

Kharnek slammed his empty tankard onto the table hard enough to make it shudder, the echo bouncing through the hall. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice rough and steady. “But Darnell isn’t.”

Ludger frowned. “The captain? What’s he doing?”

“Preparing wagons,” Kharnek replied, scratching his jaw. “He says we’ll need a few to haul the labyrinth materials.”

Ludger blinked, his expression twisting into confusion. “Wait—hauling? Why are we already moving materials out of the labyrinth?”

Kharnek shrugged, his tone calm, pragmatic. “Food,” he said simply. “We got a good deal here—your people are feeding us, and for free no less. But feeding five hundred northerners for long? That’s no small favor.”

He leaned forward slightly, his heavy gaze meeting Ludger’s. “So I told Darnell we’d pay for what’s already been given. We’ll send the materials from the labyrinth as compensation—for now and for what we’ll eat in the coming weeks.”

Ludger frowned deeper, crossing his arms. “You’re selling labyrinth materials? That’s not a light decision.”

Kharnek’s tone didn’t waver. “We are trading. Until your fields are ready, we can’t hunt enough to feed everyone. The north’s soil is half stone and frost—we can’t grow anything there yet. But if I pay for the food with materials, we buy time.”

He cracked a faint, humorless grin. “And when you finish your part—when you build us those fields—we won’t need to take a single coin from the south again.”

Ludger stared at him for a few seconds, then exhaled through his nose. The man’s logic was sound. Crude, but sound.

“…Alright,” Ludger said at last. “Once Darnell’s done with the wagons, we’ll move. The sooner we start building those fields, the sooner you won’t have to pay for your meals with labyrinth.”

Kharnek smirked faintly. “Then we’re both racing against hunger, it seems.”

Ludger gave him a sideways look. “You’re racing against it. I’m racing against my mother’s letters asking if I’m eating properly.”

Kharnek chuckled, deep and thunderous. “Then we’ll see who breaks first. Sometimes I forgot that you are just a kid without hair down there.”

Ludger just sighed and muttered, “... Not betting on that.”

Ludger preferred his wit like his tea: dry, sharp, and served with the faintest sting. A connoisseur of sarcasm, as he liked to think of himself—not that anyone around him seemed to appreciate the art.

He waved the thought aside and leaned forward, resting a hand on the table. “Alright, jokes aside. We still haven’t talked about the labyrinth. I’ll need to know what we’re dealing with before we start sending anyone in again.”

Kharnek’s grin faded. His expression hardened into something grim and calculating. He gave a slow nod. “The labyrinth’s not kind to outsiders—or to us. Even our strongest warriors struggled there. We barely finished mapping the first zone before the second broke our bones.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been exploring it for over a year, right? And you still haven’t cleared the second zone?”

Kharnek’s jaw clenched. “We didn’t have healers. Our shamans know basic magic—nothing more. They can channel magic but when it comes to wounds, poison, or frostbite, they’re as helpless as the rest of us.”

Ludger’s expression stayed neutral, though inwardly he was intrigued. “So, what kind of enemies are we talking about?”

Kharnek leaned back slightly, folding his thick arms. His tone turned cold. “Ice skeletons. That’s what we call them. The things used to be human, or maybe something worse. They move like soldiers—shieldmen up front, spears behind, archers in the back. Organized. No mindless beasts down there.”

Ludger’s brows drew together. “Skeletons with tactics. Great.”

The northerner nodded grimly. “Their bones aren’t normal. They’re made from some kind of glacic mineral—dense, sharp, and filled with mana. They can use it to make weapons on the spot. Spears, shields, even bows. Each swing drains the air around them, freezing everything they touch.”

“Mana-draining ice constructs with teamwork,” Ludger said, rubbing his temples. “Perfect. Just what I needed to hear to make my day.”

Kharnek gave a humorless grunt. “They don’t break easy either. A clean cut won’t kill them—you need to shatter these ice minerals. But each one guards its own, and they fight together to protect it.”

Ludger thought quietly for a few seconds, then muttered, “No wonder you’ve been stuck in the second zone.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Kharnek said flatly. “Every expedition cost us men. And without healing, every wound froze before it could close.”

That made Ludger’s mind start spinning—ice monsters that used mana like weapons, terrain that froze blood mid-battle, a labyrinth that punished brute force. It wasn’t just another dungeon. It was a training ground for tactical warfare.

He looked up at Kharnek, the edge of his smirk returning. “Good thing you’ve got me now.”

Kharnek’s lips curled into a faint, toothy grin. “We’ll see if your cleverness works where our strength failed.”

Ludger shrugged. “If not, we’ll just build the next wall out of their bones.”

A couple of hours later, the sound of boots echoed through the guild hall. Darnell entered, posture straight as a spear, his armor freshly polished despite the long hours he’d likely spent working on the wagons.

He gave a crisp salute the moment he saw Ludger. “Reporting in, sir. The wagons are ready. We can depart within the hour.”

Ludger blinked, his brow twitching slightly. Sir. He wasn’t used to hearing that word thrown his way—especially not from a veteran captain like Darnell.

Technically, he wasn’t anyone’s commanding officer. The Lionsguard was supposed to be a guild, a bridge between the Torvares army and the frontier territories. Darnell’s men answered to Lord Torvares, not to him. But everyone in the border town knew whose idea this whole operation was—and who made it actually work.

Still, having a man like Darnell stand there like a proper soldier awaiting orders made Ludger’s back itch.

He wasn’t a noble. He wasn’t a general. He was just a sarcastic moron who liked things done efficiently—and maybe liked control a little too much. This whole guild idea had started as a convenience, a way to make his life easier while securing a foothold for the family and the north. But somehow, people had started looking at him like a leader.

And that was… uncomfortable. Ludger ran a hand through his hair and forced a half-smirk. “Good work, Captain. Didn’t expect you to move this fast.”

Darnell allowed himself a brief, proud grin. “You set the standard, sir. Hard not to follow.”

That just made Ludger’s skin crawl worse. The standard, huh. If only they knew how often he winged it.

He turned toward the open door, catching sight of Kharnek’s towering silhouette outside, barking orders at a group of soldiers and northerners alike as they loaded the wagons. “Alright,” Ludger said, adjusting his gloves. “Let’s get this caravan moving before someone decides to thank me again. I’m allergic to praise.”

Darnell chuckled, shaking his head as he followed. “Understood, sir.”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” Ludger muttered under his breath, stepping into the sunlight. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

As Ludger and Darnell stepped out into the open, the guild’s ragtag members gathered by the entrance, their faces a mix of curiosity and unease. The wagons stood ready, the creak of wheels and clink of harnesses cutting through the dry morning air.

Cor adjusted his glasses, the glint of sunlight flashing across the lens. “You’re really going through with it then,” he said, tone more statement than question. “Heading north with Kharnek’s people.”

Ludger gave him a short nod. “Someone’s got to make sure they don’t build huts on top of weird place  or start worshipping ice skeletons as ancestors.”

Cor’s brow furrowed slightly. “Do you want us to go with you? Harold and the others are capable enough. We could provide backup if things turn rough.”

Ludger shook his head before he could finish. “No. You’re staying here. Help Aronia with the guild setup.”

Aleia frowned. “Aronia can handle things on her own.”

“Yeah,” Ludger said dryly, “and if she gets bored handling things on her own, she’ll be halfway back to Koa before you can say ‘stability.’”

That earned a few awkward looks. None of them said it out loud, but they all knew he wasn’t wrong. Aronia might’ve agreed to help them, but her loyalty to the guild was still… flexible. The woman loved her independence almost as much as she loved her old hut.

Still, Cor didn’t drop it. “You shouldn’t go alone. The alliance is new, and not everyone on their side will be happy about it.”

Ludger’s smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean Kharnek’s underlings? Yeah, I’ve thought about that. They’re northerners—they don’t stab you in the back for power, they just challenge you in front of everyone for it. Easier to deal with, honestly.”

Selene crossed her arms. “You sound confident.”

“I sound prepared,” Ludger corrected. “And I don’t plan to stay long. I’ll help them get settled, set up the groundwork for farming, and return before the Captain starts treating me like a noble again.”

The group exchanged glances, still uneasy.

Ludger caught it and sighed. “Relax. I’m not walking into a trap. Kharnek’s rough, but he’s honest. Besides…”—he flexed his fingers, faint mana pulsing through the air around them—“…if they try anything, I’ll just bury their camp under a few tons of dirt and call it urban remodeling.”

Cor chuckled softly, though there was a flicker of genuine concern behind his eyes. “Just don’t make a habit of scaring potential allies to death.”

Ludger grinned faintly as he started walking toward the caravan. “No promises.”

Behind him, the guild members watched silently. They’d seen him pull off things most adults wouldn’t dare try—but the idea of him walking into the heart of the northerners’ territory alone still didn’t sit right.

He was far from defenseless, that much they knew. But trusting five hundred restless warriors who’d lost a war… that took a kind of nerve only Ludger seemed to possess.

The group rolled out toward the northern gate, wagons creaking in rhythm with the clop of hooves. The town behind them was already preparing for the night, soldiers shouting orders, a few kids waving as the caravan passed by.

Ludger sat near the front, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as the horses trudged forward. The air grew colder as they neared the outskirts, where the main road cut into the barren stretch leading toward the northerners’ camp.

Calling it a road was generous. It was more like a scar across the land—a mix of broken stone, dried mud, and uneven ruts deep enough to snap an axle. The wagons jolted and lurched every few meters, and Darnell cursed under his breath as a wheel hit a jagged rock.

Before he could bark an order to slow down, Ludger stood, looked ahead, and without a word, jumped off the wagon.

“Hey—what are you doing?” Darnell called out, his tone half-command, half-exasperation.

Ludger didn’t answer. He walked a few paces ahead, crouched down, and pressed his palm against the ground. A faint hum filled the air, followed by the whispering grind of shifting earth. The uneven path began to level out, the rocks sinking smoothly beneath the soil as the terrain molded itself under his control.

Chunks of stone fused together, creating a flat, solid stretch of road that stretched several meters ahead of the caravan. Dust settled, and the horses’ hooves clicked sharply against the new surface.

In less than a minute, the patch of road looked like something out of the empire’s capital—smooth, firm, and wide enough for two wagons to pass without scraping sides.

Darnell blinked, momentarily forgetting to close his mouth. “You could’ve mentioned you were going to—”

“Would’ve taken longer if I’d stopped to explain,” Ludger said, brushing his hands off.

The captain exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”

Ludger smirked faintly and walked alongside the lead wagon as it started moving again. The horses snorted as they passed him, their breath steaming in the cool air. One of them even tossed its head and blew through its nostrils like it was showing approval—or maybe irritation.

Ludger glanced at it with a deadpan look. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

The horse snorted again.

He sighed. “Didn’t sound like a thank you, though.”

As the caravan rolled forward on the newly formed road, Darnell found himself silently grateful. The path ahead would still be long—but with Ludger reshaping the earth itself, it was a road worth traveling.

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