They rose horses the next morning. Around, the fields stretched wide, dotted with farmers and the distant silhouettes of marching banners. Inside, Ludger sat with his arms folded, staring at the window while Elaine hovered like a hawk.

“Drink this.” She shoved a flask into his hands.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it anyway. You’ll dehydrate faster on the road.”

Ludger sighed, uncorked the flask, and took a token sip before handing it back. “Happy?”

“No.” She tucked it away, her eyes narrowing. “You look pale. You’re running too much at night. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Ludger smirked faintly. So she’s been keeping count.

He leaned his cheek into his palm, letting the sarcasm drip. “If I collapse, you can always drag me home.”

Elaine’s expression tightened, the flicker of her aura prickling against the walls of the carriage. “Don’t joke about that, Ludger.”

Silence stretched, heavy, until Ludger finally exhaled. She wasn’t just being difficult. He could see it—the way her hands clenched her dress too tightly, the restless fire in her eyes.

She was getting worse.

Elaine had always been protective, suffocating even, but now… her possessiveness burned hotter, sharper. She was still in her early twenties, but instead of softening with age, the obsession seemed to be hardening. A wildfire feeding itself.

At this rate, Ludger thought, it might be years before she ever calms down—if she ever does.

She reached out suddenly, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “You’re all I have, Ludger. You know that, don’t you?”

He gave her a thin smile, hiding the weight of his thoughts. “Yeah. I know.”

The carriage rolled on, and outside the horizon opened toward Torvares lands. But inside, Ludger couldn’t shake the realization—his mother’s grip wasn’t loosening. It was tightening.

By the time the groups reached Lord Torvares’ estate, the sun was high and the clang of steel rang through the courtyard. Ludger stepped down beside his mother, the sound drawing his eyes to the source.

Viola.

She was out in the open, sweat streaking her brow, her tunic damp, her dull practice sword hacking against a wooden post. Each strike was sharp, fast, and vicious—so much so that splinters were already scattering around her feet.

She didn’t notice them at first. Her jaw was clenched, her movements wild with frustration.

Ludger leaned against the carriage, watching. “She’s pissed.”

Elaine followed his gaze, her own mouth tightening. “Of course she is. They didn’t let her go north.”

That made Ludger blink. “So she wasn’t allowed to join the war.”

“No,” Elaine confirmed. “She’s too young. She’d only get herself in trouble, or worse, be used as bait. Lord Torvares might shout like a lion, but even he isn’t reckless enough to throw her into that mess.”

Ludger’s eyes lingered on his half-sister. He could read it in her movements—every strike screamed of caged energy, of wanting to fight and being chained instead.

When Viola finally turned and noticed them, she froze, her eyes narrowing.

“Ludger.” Her tone was sharp, clipped. “And your Mother. What are you doing here?”

Ludger raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. “Came to see if you’d chopped yourself in half out of boredom yet.”

Her glare deepened, but beneath it, her frustration was clear as day. She wanted to be on the battlefield, but she’d been benched. And judging by the state of that training post, she hated it.

Viola tossed her practice sword into the dirt with a sharp thunk

and stalked toward them, sweat-slick hair clinging to her face.

“You heard, didn’t you?” she snapped, jabbing a finger toward the courtyard. “They didn’t let me go. I trained, I fought, I won in that stupid tournament, and when it actually matters, they shove me aside like I’m a child.”

Ludger tilted his head, deadpan. “You are a child.”

Her glare could’ve cut through steel. “So are you, but that didn’t stop you from running off to play healer in Koa while I’m stuck here rotting.”

“That’s not the same,” Ludger said calmly. “Healing isn’t fighting.”

“Don’t twist words!” Viola snapped, pacing in tight circles like a caged beast. “I could’ve made a difference out there. Instead I’m left here swinging at wood while barbarians spit on our borders. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

Ludger watched her fume, then smirked faintly. “From the looks of that training dummy, I’d say the humiliation’s mutual.”

She froze, blinking at the wrecked post. Splinters covered the ground like bones. For a moment, she looked torn between laughter and screaming.

Finally, she ran a hand through her hair, voice cracking with frustration. “It’s not fair. I want to fight, Ludger. I want to protect the empire. But they don’t trust me.”

Ludger’s expression softened for a heartbeat—just barely. “It’s not about trust. It’s about age. They’re not ready to throw us onto that kind of battlefield yet.”

Viola clenched her fists, her breathing sharp. “Then when will they be ready? When I’m old and useless?!”

Ludger didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her, then at Elaine standing behind him with that same possessive fire in her eyes. Between his mother’s suffocating grip and Viola’s caged rage, he almost laughed at the irony.

Both of them wanted to fight for something bigger. Both of them were being chained by the people who claimed to love them.

Viola’s fists trembled at her sides, her breath coming fast, her whole body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Ludger let her stew a moment before finally speaking, his voice flat but sharp. “So what’s your plan? Storm the front lines by yourself? Challenge an army of barbarians to a duel? I’m sure they’ll line up politely and wait their turn.”

Her glare flared hotter, but he pressed on.

“You’re angry because they benched you, fine. But think for a second. The enemy’s not some tournament brat with a dull blade—it’s people who’ll stab you in the back, slit your throat in the mud, and laugh while you bleed out. You think you’re ready for that?”

Viola’s mouth opened, then closed.

Ludger smirked faintly. “Didn’t think so. So instead of wasting your breath screaming about being left behind, maybe use the time to actually get stronger. Because right now, the only thing you’re proving is that they were right.”

That landed. Viola flinched like he’d struck her harder than she’d struck the training post. Her glare wavered, frustration fighting against the truth in his words.

She turned away sharply, biting her lip. “You’re such a brat sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Ludger said, unbothered. “But at least I’m not a dead brat.”

For a moment, silence lingered, broken only by the sound of Viola’s ragged breathing. Then—unexpectedly—she gave a small, bitter laugh.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“And you’re reckless,” Ludger replied dryly. “Guess that makes us even.”

The heavy scrape of boots on stone cut through the courtyard.

“Viola.”

Both half siblings turned. Lord Torvares stood in the archway, his presence filling the space as easily as if he carried a war drum behind him. His cape trailed across the flagstones, and his stern gaze pinned his granddaughter like a nail.

“Grandfather—” she started, but he lifted a hand, silencing her.

“For the thousandth time,” he said, voice deep and ironclad, “you are not going to the conflict.” His words carried the weight of a verdict, not an argument.

Viola clenched her fists again, her frustration bubbling, but she didn’t dare cut him off.

Lord Torvares stepped further into the courtyard, his gaze unflinching. “You are strong, Viola. No one denies it. But strength is not enough. That battlefield is not a tournament. It is chaos. Men die not because they are weak, but because the enemy is clever and cruel. You will not be thrown into that hell before your time.”

“But—!”

“No.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Do you think I would waste my heir on a border skirmish? That I would let you be buried under mud and forgotten, when your future must roar brighter than mine ever did?”

Viola’s jaw trembled. She wanted to shout, to argue—but his words crushed the fight from her.

Lord Torvares finally sighed, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Your day will come, child. Sooner than you think. But not this one.”

She bit her lip, lowering her head, tears stinging her eyes though she tried to hide them.

Ludger watched quietly, arms crossed. For the thousandth time indeed.

Lord Torvares’s grip lingered on Viola’s shoulder a moment longer before he finally let her go. His gaze, stern and heavy, turned toward Ludger.

“And you,” he said, voice rumbling low. “Why are you here? This wasn’t a casual visit.”

Elaine stepped forward, ready to cut in, but Ludger spoke first, his tone calm and measured. “I went to see my teacher. Aronia.”

That earned a flicker of recognition in the old man’s eyes.

“She doesn’t care about the empire,” Ludger continued, arms crossed. “But she agreed to consider coming to the front as a healer—if she’s given protection. Two guards, specifically. If not, she’ll stay in her home.”

The courtyard went still. Even Viola, still bristling from her scolding, glanced between them in surprise.

Lord Torvares stroked his beard, studying the boy in silence for a long moment. “So she sets her own price.”

“She knows her value,” Ludger replied evenly. “And she won’t waste it defending herself from opportunists when she could be saving soldiers.”

A spark lit in the old man’s eye at that. Pride, perhaps. Or simply respect for someone who spoke plainly, even at seven years old.

“Hmph. And you negotiated this yourself?”

“Yes,” Ludger said.

Elaine’s jaw tightened beside him, but she said nothing.

Lord Torvares finally chuckled, deep and rough. “Not bad. You’ve done what most lords fail at—convinced a druid to listen. Two guards is a small price to pay for what she offers.” He nodded once. “I’ll see it arranged.”

Viola’s eyes widened. “So… Aronia’s really going to join the war?”

“If the boy holds her word,” Torvares said, glancing at Ludger. “And I suspect he does.”

Lord Torvares stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I’ll send men who won’t disgrace the family name. Veterans from my personal retinue. They’ll shield her as if she were kin, and if anyone dares to touch a druid under Torvares protection, they’ll learn what fear really is.”

His tone left no doubt. Once he spoke it, it was settled.

Ludger gave a single nod. That was enough for him. His part was done, and now he was ready to return home. He had training to continue, jobs to do, and—more importantly—distance to put between himself and his mother’s constant watchful glare.

But just as he turned to leave, a voice rang out behind him.

“Wait.”

Viola.

She stood with her practice sword in hand, her sweat-slick hair sticking to her face, her eyes blazing. “You’re not leaving without a spar.”

Ludger blinked, then groaned inwardly. He’d brought his red-and-silver armguards and shin guards with him—just in case. He always carried them, ready for trouble. But now, that very habit had betrayed him. He couldn’t even use the excuse of being unprepared.

Viola smirked when she noticed the gear strapped on him. “Good. You’re ready.”

“Great,” Ludger muttered under his breath. “Ready to regret my life choices.”

The courtyard cleared quickly at Viola’s insistence. She dragged Ludger into the open space, wooden practice swords in hand, while the servants carried chairs, tea, and a tray of sweets out under the shade for Lord Torvares and Elaine.

“Sit,” the old man ordered smoothly, waving his hand as the table was set. His eyes stayed sharp on the courtyard, but his tone when he addressed Elaine softened ever so slightly. “It’s been some time since I’ve wanted to speak with you properly. Let’s have tea while the children work off their energy.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but she sat, though the possessive edge in her aura stayed fixed on Ludger.

Meanwhile, Viola twirled her wooden blade, grinning ear to ear. “No excuses this time, little brother. You’ve got your guards on. Fight me seriously.”

Ludger rolled his shoulders, deadpan. “Seriously, huh? You mean to ignore the fact that if I go too hard, you’ll cry to your Grandfather about how unfair it was?”

Her grin sharpened. “Then don’t lose.”

Before he could quip back, she lunged. Fast. Too fast for a normal ten-year-old. Her Overdrive-enhanced swing came at his ribs like a hammer.

Ludger blocked with his forearm guard, the dull crack ringing across the courtyard. The impact rattled through his bones. She didn’t let up—sweeps, thrusts, overhead slams.

He deflected, sidestepped, let her attacks skim close without landing. He was holding back, as always. But Viola wasn’t playing this time. Her movements were sharp, deliberate. She wanted to force him into fighting harder, to drag his real strength out into the open.

Ludger exhaled, his eyes narrowing. She’s not going to stop until I give her something.

From the shade, Torvares sipped his tea calmly, as if watching two predators circle. Elaine’s fingers tightened on her cup, her smile brittle as she spoke with the old man, but her eyes flicked constantly back to the clash.

In the courtyard, wood slammed against armguards again and again, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Viola’s grin only widened.

“Come on, Ludger,” she taunted, sweat dripping down her cheek. “Show me what you can really do.”

Viola pressed harder, her swings coming faster, her voice sharp with frustration. “Stop dodging and fight me!”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. Fine. You want something different?

He inhaled, then activated his newest skill: [Dash].

His body blurred to the left, the burst of speed leaving a faint streak in the air. Viola swung at where he’d been, but he was already gone, darting to the right with another burst. The courtyard echoed with the sharp crack of wood striking empty space.

“What—?!” Viola spun, searching, but Ludger was already behind her. He circled with quick, jarring bursts, his movements erratic, impossible to pin down.

She snarled, whipping her blade around, but every time she adjusted, he was gone again—just a blur of red-and-silver guards slipping out of reach.

Then, before she could recover, he appeared at her flank. The tip of his wooden sword tapped lightly against the back of her knees. Not a strike meant to wound—just a precise, mocking nudge.

Viola’s legs buckled. She let out a startled yelp and stumbled forward, falling to her knees in the dust with all the grace of a dropped sack of flour.

The courtyard went silent.

Ludger lowered his practice sword, his voice flat, almost bored. “There. You wanted me to fight seriously? That was serious enough.”

Viola whipped her head toward him, her cheeks burning red, eyes wide with both shock and humiliation. For once, she had no clever retort ready.

From the shade, Lord Torvares chuckled into his tea, clearly entertained. Elaine, on the other hand, pinched the handle of her cup so tightly it cracked.

Viola scrambled back to her feet, dust clinging to her knees, her face flushed crimson.

“You—!” She jabbed her practice sword at Ludger, her voice cracking between fury and humiliation. “That doesn’t count! You tricked me!”

Ludger tilted his head, his expression flat. “Oh? I thought you said to fight seriously.”

“That wasn’t fighting!” she shouted, stomping her foot. “That was—was running around like a rat!”

Ludger smirked faintly, the edge of his sarcasm cutting deeper than any blade. “Funny. Last I checked, you’re the one eating dirt.”

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed into blazing slits. She practically shook with rage. “Rematch! Right now!”

Ludger sighed dramatically, sliding his practice sword over his shoulder. “You sure? I’d hate to ruin your knees again.”

“SHUT UP!” Viola roared, charging at him with reckless speed, her Overdrive flaring as the wooden blade whistled through the air.

Ludger’s smirk faded into a thin line. She’s not calming down. She’s getting worse.

From the shade, Lord Torvares watched silently, though there was no missing the faint amusement tugging at his beard. Elaine, however, was on the edge of her seat, her aura prickling the courtyard like a storm about to break.

The second round had begun—and this time, Viola wanted blood.