The next morning, Ludger headed to Torvares Manor first thing after breakfast.
The twins had barely finished eating before they were already reaching for practice weapons again. That alone made him pause for a moment.
They did not even pretend to consider resting first. The moment the meal ended, their attention shifted right back to training as naturally as if that were simply what mornings were for. Small wooden swords in hand, they moved off with the kind of serious focus that looked almost unreasonable on children that young.
Ludger watched them for a second, then asked, “Do you want to come see Vi and Lu with me?”
The answer came quickly.
“No, we’re busy.”
Not rude. Just immediate. Like the matter was obvious. Ludger raised an eyebrow. Busy. Right. Apparently, training had already climbed high enough on their priority list that even going to visit Viola and Luna was no longer enough to pull them away from it.
That made him understand Arslan’s concern a little better.
Until now, his father’s worry had felt somewhat exaggerated. But seeing the twins so naturally choose more practice over anything else did make the shape of the problem clearer. They were still very young. If this pace kept becoming normal to them, then “taking it easy” might start feeling strange before they were even old enough to know better.
Hopefully, they would get sick of training this much every day eventually. That would probably be healthier.
Ludger left them to it and continued toward Torvares Manor.
When he got there, he found that Viola and Luna were not home either, which made the trip a little more straightforward than expected. No detour, no interruption, no need to explain why he had come before getting to the actual point.
So he went straight to Torvares’s office.
Torvares looked up from the documents on his desk when Ludger entered and waved him in with the casual ease of someone long used to important people arriving without ceremony.
“Luna and Viola left for a party hosted by an acquaintance,” he said. “They should return soon.”
Ludger nodded once.
“I see.”
Torvares leaned back slightly in his chair, studying him with that sharp, old gaze of his.
“And what about the job you went on with your father recently?”
Ludger stepped closer and answered without wasting words.
“The negotiation was a success.”
That alone made the corner of Torvares’ mouth lift faintly.
“With Maris’ guild?”
“Yes.”
Ludger gave the short version first, the practical version. They had reached an agreement, established the core terms, and opened a path for joint operations tied to the labyrinth and its resources. From there, he filled in a little more detail, the share structure, the expected material flow, and the fact that the deeper sections of the labyrinth had more value than Maris’ guild had been properly extracting.
Torvares listened without interrupting. By the end of it, he nodded slowly.
“So things should improve a bit more thanks to it.”
“Yes,” Ludger said. “Assuming they do not mishandle their side of the arrangement, both guilds should benefit.”
That was putting it modestly.
In truth, the deal would likely do more than improve things “a bit,” but Ludger preferred keeping the tone measured until the operation was actually moving and producing results. Potential mattered less than execution.
Torvares, as usual, seemed to understand that from the way he watched him.
“A successful negotiation, then,” he said.
Ludger gave a small nod.
“Yes.”
And with that settled, the conversation was ready to move on to the more troublesome matter he had actually come to discuss. After that, Torvares went silent for a moment. The shift was subtle, but clear enough.
The faint ease from discussing successful negotiations faded, and when he finally spoke again, his tone had grown heavier.
“I should apologize,” he said. “I haven’t been able to get the information we needed as quickly as I intended.”
Ludger’s gaze sharpened slightly. Torvares folded his hands over the desk and continued.
“I lost contact with some of my spies when they tried to cross the border into the Velis League.”
That made the room feel a little quieter. Torvares did not dramatize it. He did not need to. A man like him only said he had lost contact when the meaning was already obvious enough.
“Others are investigating what happened,” he went on. “But so far, they haven’t brought back any useful results.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Ludger frowned faintly. That was bad.
Not only because of the missing agents, but because losing multiple lines at the same point usually meant something more than bad luck. Either the border was being watched more closely than expected, or someone on the other side had started cleaning up loose ends with unusual efficiency.
Ludger asked, “Are there any rumors about it spreading through the Empire?”
Torvares shook his head.
“No.”
That answer was somehow worse.
Because if people had vanished, couriers had failed to return, and border routes had gone quiet without any rumor drifting back through the Empire, then someone had worked very hard to make sure that happened.
Torvares’ expression hardened slightly.
“Whatever happened,” he said, “the people involved wanted it hidden from everyone.”
Ludger considered that for a second, then asked, “Could that be related to the invasion I made during the dryad rescue?”
Torvares exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I don’t believe so,” he said. “But I can’t rule it out completely.”
He leaned back a little, eyes narrowing in thought.
“The Empire raised its guard after that incident. Losing a guardian and a prisoner in one stroke was not a small embarrassment.” His voice stayed calm, but there was a dry edge to it now. “They could be doing any number of things to avoid further losses. Tightening border watch, cutting unstable routes, purging compromised contacts, screening movements more aggressively…”
Ludger nodded once. That made sense. If nothing else, the rescue had proven that their enemies could be hit directly and humiliated in ways they would not ignore. Any competent structure would respond by becoming harder to read, harder to approach, and more willing to bury mistakes before they turned into patterns.
After a short pause, Ludger asked, “Do you know anyone called Gustav who has territory?”
That made Torvares raise his eyebrows. Not because the name itself was impossible, but because of how abruptly the conversation had turned.
“Gustav?” he repeated.
Ludger nodded. Then he explained.
He told Torvares about Amelia remembering the name after being rescued. About the guards mentioning it repeatedly while keeping watch over the dryads. About the possibility that they had been held in a secret warehouse somewhere within the territory of someone called Gustav.
Torvares listened without interrupting, his expression growing more thoughtful as the explanation went on.
By the end of it, he had gone still in that particular way he sometimes did when sorting through names, houses, borders, and old relations in his head all at once. Now the conversation had moved from frustrating uncertainty into something potentially useful.
Torvares’ expression shifted slightly as the pieces settled into place.
“Gustav,” he said, “is one of the lords with ties to Armandis.”
Ludger’s gaze sharpened.
Torvares continued, “His family also guards a sealed labyrinth.”
That made the shape of it ugly very quickly. A territorial lord tied to Armandis. A sealed labyrinth under family control. A remembered name spoken by guards watching over captive dryads.
Ludger said, “It looks like I found my next target.”
Torvares immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Ludger frowned faintly.
Then Torvares added, “The man and his entire family are already in prison for treason and awaiting judgment.”
That made Ludger pause. Torvares’ tone remained calm, but there was very little doubt in it.
“And to be clear,” he went on, “there is almost no chance they survive the process. Whatever theater remains in the court, the end is obvious. All of them are going to be executed.”
Ludger raised his eyebrows at that. That was a significant development.
Not because he felt pity for them. If anything, it only confirmed that the rot tied to Armandis had spread farther than was publicly visible for a long time. But a whole noble family being imprisoned for treason before he even moved on the matter meant someone higher up had already decided to cut away part of the infection.
Or hide it. Possibly both. Either way, it changed the board.
Because a dead target was easy. A condemned one was not. A condemned one with a sealed labyrinth and possible ties to dryad trafficking was the kind of loose end that could still poison things even while chained in a cell.
Ludger stayed silent for a moment, thinking. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. That did not make the matter cleaner. It made it more interesting.
Ludger was quiet for a second before asking, “Why were they charged with treason?”
Torvares rested back in his chair, his expression turning a little more distant as he sorted through what little he had with certainty and what had to be inferred.
“Apparently, it was done under Armandis’ orders.”
Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly. Torvares continued, careful with the wording.
“The details are still unclear. Whatever formal charges were written down are almost certainly cleaner than the real reason.” He folded his hands over the desk again. “But if I had to guess, this is not really about justice. It is probably internal strife inside their alliance.”
That made sense immediately. Torvares went on.
“They had been good allies for years, after all. Too useful, too close, and too stable to collapse like this over some sudden moral awakening in the Empire.”
His voice carried a dry edge on that last part. Ludger understood.
Families tied to Armandis did not simply fall overnight because someone above them had discovered principles. If one of them was being dragged down publicly after years of cooperation, then the more likely explanation was that they had become inconvenient.
Or dangerous.
Ludger said, “So they should be erasing someone they can no longer trust and who knows too much.”
Torvares nodded once.
“Yes.”
Simple. Clean. Ugly. The kind of answer that fit too well.
Ludger’s gaze drifted slightly, not away from Torvares exactly, but inward, assembling the shape of the thing again. A family with ties to Armandis. A sealed labyrinth. Dryads held in a secret warehouse in their territory. Now the entire house imprisoned for treason under the orders of the same faction they had served.
That was not cleanup. That was containment. Or a failed attempt at it.
He said, “It still sounds like I found my target.”
Torvares sighed when he heard that. A real sigh.
Not surprised. Not dramatic. Just the exhausted sound of a man realizing that the boy in front of him had, as usual, heard the warning and somehow translated it into a route forward instead of a reason to step back.
Torvares rubbed once at his temple before speaking.
“That,” he said, “is exactly the sort of sentence I was hoping you would not say out loud.”
Ludger did not look particularly moved by that. Because from his point of view, the logic was straightforward.
If the family was being erased, then they either held information worth silencing or had already been used for something worth burying. If Gustav’s territory had indeed hidden a warehouse tied to the dryads, then the trail had not vanished just because the people involved were now in chains. If anything, the window for learning something before the Empire sealed it over completely had just become narrower.
Which made it more urgent. Torvares, unfortunately, understood that too. That was why he looked annoyed. Not because Ludger was wrong. Because he was dangerously likely to be right.