Ludger was confident in his own abilities. Anyone with eyes could see that. He trusted his strength, his judgment, his control, and his capacity to act when the time came. But he wasn’t arrogant.
He didn’t seem blind to his limits. He didn’t assume the world would bend just because he wanted it to. He didn’t look at every hidden problem and think, I can force this right now, so I should.
Instead, he waited when waiting was smarter. Prepared when preparation mattered. And moved only when he thought the result would actually be worth it. Eclaire frowned slightly as she walked. That kind of person was hard to read.
Hard to predict. Hard to influence. But maybe that was exactly why people kept getting pulled into his orbit.
Because even when he was cold, even when he was difficult, even when he looked like he was already ten steps ahead and mildly annoyed that everyone else was still on step two… he still gave the impression that there was a shape to what he was doing.
That made it easier to keep following him than she liked admitting. Eclaire exhaled quietly and kept walking. Whether Ludger actually called for her or not, one thing was clear. If he moved again, it wouldn’t be impulsive. And when he finally did, something important was probably going to break…
Ludger also had another reason to keep Eclaire away from the spotlight. Viola was already suspicious of her. That alone made things annoying.
If Ludger started pulling Eclaire into more sensitive operations, there was a decent chance Viola would notice the pattern, get the wrong idea, and decide to insert herself into another mission she didn’t actually need to join. That would create more noise, more questions, and more unnecessary friction inside the group. Viola was useful, strong, and direct.
She was also terrible at staying out of things once her instincts started bothering her. Ludger sighed quietly and pushed the thought aside.
He was already dealing with the Empire on too many fronts to waste much time on internal complications like that. Businesses. trade routes, production, spies, labyrinths, dryads, Armandis, hidden structures, and the next stage of the Lionsguard’s expansion, he had enough problems without spending extra effort managing Viola’s suspicions unless he absolutely had to.
In any case, it looked like he wouldn’t have to worry about that particular issue for long. Three days after his father sent the letter, a response came back.
Arslan showed up at Ludger’s room with the sealed letter in hand. Ludger looked up from his desk, then at the intact seal.
“Why didn’t you open it?”
Arslan’s expression turned just a little more tired.
“Elaine wants to be there when we read it.”
Ludger stared at him for a second. Then he shrugged. That was simply the cost of having an overprotective mother for him… for his dad, a wife who was also terrifying.
Back home, the three of them gathered around the table while Arslan finally broke the seal.
He unfolded the letter, eyes moving across the first few lines. Then his mouth twitched. Not in amusement. In regret.
He forced out a smile that looked painful on principle alone. “Perhaps,” he said carefully, “I shouldn’t read this out loud.”
Ludger, seated with one arm resting against the table, looked at him without much sympathy.
“That bad, huh?”
Elaine folded her arms. “If she wrote insults, I want to hear them.”
Arslan looked at his wife, then at the letter, then briefly toward the ceiling as if hoping some higher power would set the paper on fire before he had to continue. It didn’t. So he sighed and began to read.
To Arslan,
Guildmaster now, apparently.
I’ll admit, when your letter arrived, I thought it was some kind of mistake.
Then I saw your name and laughed hard enough that one of my people thought I had finally gone mad.
So, congratulations.
You actually survived long enough to become respectable. Or at least famous enough that people are willing to pretend you are.
Yes, I’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has.
The great Arslan. The Bull of the frontier. Guildmaster. Builder. Warrior. Family man.
That last one amused me the most.
Not because I doubted you could swing a sword hard enough to make people sing songs about it. You were always good at that part. I just didn’t think you had the patience to stay in one place long enough for roots to grow.
And yet, here we are.
You disappearing for ten years only to send me a letter now is exactly the kind of shameless move I would expect from you, by the way. It has your usual style all over it. Vanish like a thief after having your fun, then return once age, scars, and reputation have made you feel important enough to reintroduce yourself.
I’d ask whether writing that letter bruised your pride, but I suspect your ego has only grown larger since people started calling you “Guildmaster” with straight faces.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Still, I’ll admit I was curious. You were many things when I knew you. Loud. Stubborn. Infuriating. Better in a fight than you had any right to be. Better in bed than was convenient. Worse at goodbyes than any man I have ever met.
So when a ghost decides to write, one reads the letter.
You asked whether I would be open to discussion regarding cooperation between our guilds.
That depends.
If this is truly your idea, then I assume age has made you softer, more diplomatic, and somehow even more dangerous in that irritating way strong men become once they discover planning.
If it is not your idea, then I assume someone smarter than you finally got tired of watching you solve every problem by glaring at it until it broke.
If that someone is your wife, then I already pity her and respect her.
If that someone is your son, then I am suddenly much more interested.
Yes, I’ve heard of him too. It would be hard not to.
Even out here, stories travel. About Lionfang. About your guild. About the little monster you’ve apparently raised who keeps breaking expectations, making money, and causing trouble for people who thought they were untouchable.
I must say, that part sounds very much like his father.
Except from what I hear, the boy has the one quality you always lacked at his age: restraint.
Miracles do happen.
Now, as for negotiations… I am open to them.
That does not mean I am eager to kneel, flatter, or hand over anything simply because your name has become heavier than it used to be. If you are writing because you think your newfound fame entitles you to easy terms, then save yourself the travel and go admire your reflection in polished armor instead.
If, however, you are writing because there is real profit to be made, real structure to be built, and real respect to be offered across the table rather than demanded from above it, then I am willing to listen.
Bring details. And if you are wise, bring the son.
Frankly, after ten years of silence, I’d rather negotiate with the child you left behind in your wake than the man who once smiled at me like trouble and then disappeared before sunrise.
Still… old times are old times.
I remember the river road south of Kharven.
I remember the inn with the crooked stairs and the weak ale you insisted was “good enough.”
I remember you picking a fight you absolutely should not have won, then grinning at me through a split lip like the idiot hero of a cheap bard story.
And yes, I remember the morning you swore you’d return before winter.
You didn’t. That was a harsh lesson. Useful, though. I’ve had worse teachers since.
So here is my answer:
Come, if you are serious.
Write again, if you are not. And if you waste my time after making me remember your stupid face, I will make sure your son learns exactly what kind of man his father used to be.
With all the warmth you deserve,
Maris Veldane
Guildmaster of the Ashen Wake
P.S. Tell your wife she has my sympathy.
P.P.S. If you read this letter aloud, I hope you suffered.
Silence settled over the room the moment Arslan finished. A heavy kind. The sort that came right before someone deserved to be mocked. Ludger was the first to break it.
“So,” he said evenly, “you really were a problem.”
Arslan folded the letter once, very slowly. “I feel that the letter was unnecessarily dramatic.”
Elaine looked at him with open disbelief.
“Unnecessarily dramatic?” she repeated. “She was generous.”
Arslan sighed the deep sigh of a man being judged by two people and knowing both of them were, unfortunately, correct.
Ludger held out a hand. “Let me see it.”
Arslan passed him the letter.
Elaine smiled faintly, far too pleased with herself. “I like her already.”
Arslan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like regret. Ludger, meanwhile, skimmed the letter again with calm attention. Insults aside, the useful part was obvious.
She was willing. Cautious, proud, irritated, but willing. That was enough. More than enough, really. Because for all his father’s apparently disastrous history, the door had opened. And that was what mattered. Elaine leaned back in her chair with a faint, satisfied smile still on her lips.
“I really like her,” she said.
Ludger lowered the letter slightly and nodded once. “She sounds lovely.”
Arslan made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a man regretting several past decisions at once.
Ludger glanced at him, then back at the letter. “I can also tell you have a pattern with women.”
Elaine’s smile widened.
Arslan closed his eyes for a moment. “Can the two of you stop bullying me like this?”
“No,” Elaine said immediately.
Ludger shrugged. “Not while it’s accurate.”
Arslan looked at his son with tired disbelief. “You’re starting to sound like your mother.”
Elaine turned her head toward him at once. “What exactly is the problem with that?”
Arslan, to his credit, recognized the trap immediately. Unfortunately for him, recognizing it and escaping it were two different things.
“There is no problem,” he said, far too carefully.
Elaine kept looking at him.
Arslan sighed again, the sound of a man being cornered by his own survival instincts. “What I mean is that hearing the same tone from both my wife and my son at once is a uniquely unpleasant experience.”
“That sounds like your own fault,” Ludger said.
“That,” Elaine added, “is because it is.”
Arslan rubbed at his temple, clearly deciding that defending himself any further would only worsen his condition. Ludger cleared his throat, mercifully dragging the conversation back toward something useful.
“How should we proceed?”
That got Arslan to straighten slightly, grateful for the change in subject even if he didn’t show it much.
“I should go,” he said.
Elaine raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a punishment.”
“It is,” Arslan muttered. Then, more clearly, “But I need to help with the introductions.”
Ludger listened without interrupting.
Arslan gestured lightly with one hand. “If I go, it’ll cause problems. She’ll definitely have things to say, and I’ll probably have to stand there and listen to all of them.” His expression flattened. “A lot.”
Elaine looked entirely too pleased by that possibility.
“But,” Arslan continued, “if I don’t go, then I just look shameless. Worse than shameless, really. Like I’m trying to use old ties without having the decency to show my face.”
Ludger nodded slightly. That made sense.