Ludger headed to the room where the dryad girl was being kept and, as expected, found Aronia there already.
She was almost always there.
Watching over the girl with the patient steadiness only someone like Aronia seemed able to maintain for hours without it turning stiff or forced. The room itself was simple, clean, and far more comfortable than the place Amelia had been dragged out of, but fear had a habit of lingering long after walls changed.
Amelia still did not like Ludger’s presence. That much was obvious the moment he stepped inside.
Her shoulders tightened. Her fingers curled slightly in her lap. Her eyes flickered toward him and then quickly lowered again. Still, this time was better than before. She was no longer trying to hide behind Aronia like a frightened animal expecting the world to bite again. Now she merely kept her head down and stayed quiet.
Progress. Small, but real.
Ludger stopped a comfortable distance away and said, “I got the message.”
Aronia nodded once.
“Amelia remembered a name,” she said. “One she heard shortly after being captured.”
That made Ludger focus a little more. Aronia continued in her usual even tone.
“It seems her people were being kept in a secret warehouse in the territory of someone called Gustav. The guards watching them said that name several times.”
Ludger frowned slightly.
“Just Gustav?”
Aronia nodded.
“Just Gustav.”
That was irritating. The name meant nothing to her. And it meant nothing to Ludger either.
He did not know the names of that many nobles, and Gustav on its own was far too broad to be useful unless tied to a house, territory, title, crest, or at least a city. As it was, it might have been a noble, a merchant lord, a factor, or simply some local authority figure the guards assumed everyone around them already understood.
Still, it was something. Which made it more than they had yesterday.
Ludger thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll talk with Torvares tomorrow about it.”
That was the cleanest next step.
If Gustav was anyone worth noting in the surrounding territories, Torvares would either know the name directly or know who did. And if the warehouse truly sat in territory tied to that name, then this could become the first solid thread they had to pull on instead of another vague suspicion drifting through the dark.
Aronia gave a small nod, clearly agreeing. Amelia remained quiet, head still lowered, but Ludger noticed the faint tension in her shoulders ease a little after he said it.
At least she understood that her memory had mattered.
Ludger looked between the two of them for a moment before asking, “Are you fine staying underground for this long?”
Aronia answered first.
“I’m fine,” she said. “As long as the weather is warm.”
That sounded about right. The dryad girl said nothing.
Amelia just kept her head lowered, quiet in the same guarded way as before. Whether that silence meant agreement, discomfort, or simply fear, Ludger could not tell with certainty. Probably some mixture of all three.
He frowned slightly. The question had not been casual.
If they were going to remain in Lionsguard territory for any meaningful length of time, then this arrangement was only acceptable as a temporary measure. Keeping dryads hidden underground might be practical for secrecy, but practicality had limits. They were not crates of goods to be stored in a cellar until convenient.
That made him start thinking. He wondered if he should do something so they could live outside without problems. The most obvious location would be the northerners’ camp.
No one from the Empire had much reason to head there, which already made it safer than many alternatives. More importantly, the northerners were used to odd customs, shamans, strange rites, and things that would look suspicious elsewhere. A pair of dryads would not stand out nearly as much among people who already treated spirits, rituals, and unusual beings as part of the world rather than a story told near a hearth.
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That part was workable. The problem was the cold.
The camp was only a few kilometers farther north, but that still mattered. The air there bit harder. The ground froze deeper. The wind had a way of finding its way into everything, especially for people not built for it. The northerners might have their shamans and their strange rituals to help endure that climate, but Aronia and Amelia were still dryads.
And the cold, more than secrecy, seemed like the real issue. Aronia shook her head lightly.
“We’ll be fine,” she said. “You don’t have to worry.”
Ludger studied her for a second.
She sounded calm enough, and unlike Amelia, Aronia usually spoke plainly when something was truly bothering her. That did not mean the problem had vanished, only that pressing it right now would not produce anything useful.
So, in the end, he nodded. Then he left the two of them alone.
From there, he headed straight to his office. The familiar space helped settle his thoughts back into cleaner lines, desk, papers, reports, maps, lists. Things that behaved properly when handled. Things that made sense. After the trip, the guardian, the negotiations, and his father’s endless attempts to ruin future peace in his household, that alone was refreshing.
He sat down and began organizing what needed to be done next.
The agreement with Maris’ guild had to move quickly if it was going to matter. Team selection, supply lines, support structure, transport timing, and the first trial rotations all needed to be arranged before enthusiasm turned into delay. So after putting together the core outline, Ludger eventually called in a number of guild members to speak with them directly about working with Maris’ guild and helping farm the labyrinth.
One by one, they came in.
Some veterans. Some newer but reliable members. A few whose skill sets fit what he had in mind better than others.
Ludger explained the arrangement in practical terms.
Joint operations with Maris’ guild. Silver ring harvesting. The value of water magic and healing in that labyrinth. The fact that teams would likely stay there for periods instead of simply making short runs. The risks. The expected gains. The opportunities for growth.
He also made it clear that they had time to decide.
There was no need for immediate answers. He wanted people who understood what they were agreeing to, not fools who nodded because they thought that was the correct thing to do in front of him.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that did not matter. Every single one of them accepted the proposal almost immediately. No hesitation worth naming. No bargaining. No real doubt. Just agreement. Again and again.
Ludger sat there, expression flat, and watched it happen enough times that a small, irritating thought began to form. Was he being too forceful somehow? Or were they simply scared of going against his proposal? That possibility was not comforting. Respect was useful. Confidence in leadership was useful. Blind agreement was not. He leaned back slightly after the last of them had left and stared at the papers on his desk. The answers had come too smoothly.
Maybe that was just because the offer was good. The profit potential was real, the operation made sense, and Lionsguard had never exactly attracted timid people. That explanation was possible.
Still, he could not completely dismiss the other one.
If members had started agreeing too quickly just because the suggestion came from him, that would become a problem later. A dangerous one. Bad plans survived longer than they should when the people around them forgot how to say no.
Ludger clicked his tongue softly. Annoying. He would have to keep an eye on that. Ludger looked over the group again before dismissing them and decided to make one part absolutely clear.
“You can depart when you want,” he said. “There’s no need to rush blindly just because the operation matters. Take the time you need to adjust to the job properly.”
The room stayed quiet as they listened. Ludger continued in the same calm, practical tone.
“I’ll keep reserve members ready to take your place if something happens, if the workload becomes too much, or if you decide you need to return early. So don’t hesitate to include that kind of information in your reports.”
He let that settle for a moment.
“If the team needs rotation, I want to know. If the pace is wrong, I want to know. If someone is not adapting well, I want to know that too. This operation only works if the reports are honest.”
The members nodded. All of them. Which, unfortunately, did not make Ludger feel better. Because they looked nothing like people planning to ask for relief, slower pacing, or early return if things became difficult.
If anything, they looked far too pleased. Too eager.
There was a brightness in their expressions that had not been there when they first walked in. Some stood a little straighter. Others looked like they were trying and failing not to show how satisfied they felt. It was the sort of reaction people had when they believed their hard work had finally been recognized and they had been chosen for something important.
Something special. That explained the mood. At least partly.
This was not just another assignment to them. Not another routine patrol, escort job, or dangerous run hidden under normal guild work. This felt different. It carried weight. It carried trust. It carried the kind of meaning ambitious people liked, the kind that made them feel seen.
Ludger noticed that and chose not to comment on it. As long as they did their job well, nothing else really mattered. Pride was acceptable if it produced results. Excitement was acceptable if it did not erode discipline.
And if they insisted on looking like they had just been handed some glorious opportunity instead of a difficult logistical assignment in a dangerous labyrinth, then that was their problem to sort out once reality started punching them in the face.
So Ludger simply gave a small nod and dismissed them.
Then he looked back down at the papers on his desk and resumed planning the operation as though their enthusiasm had been just another line in a report.