Elaine rested her chin lightly on one hand. “So you’ll go, suffer, and call it diplomacy.”
Arslan gave her a flat look. “That is an unfair way to describe it.”
“It’s a very accurate way to describe it,” Ludger said.
Arslan ignored him with visible effort. “In any case, I should be there. I’ll make the approach, smooth over what I can, and then shift the conversation toward the actual purpose.” His gaze moved to Ludger. “You’ll be the important part after that.”
Ludger folded the letter once more and set it on the table.
“That’s fine.”
Arslan studied him for a second. “She’ll test you too.”
“That’s also fine.”
Elaine gave a soft hum. “She probably wants to see whether the son is actually as interesting as the rumors. And if the apple fell far off from the tree.”
Ludger’s expression stayed flat. “Then she can look.”
That got a brief snort out of Arslan despite everything.
Elaine shook her head, though there was amusement in it now. “You really do make confidence sound irritating.”
“It saves time,” Ludger said.
Arslan exhaled and pushed himself up from his chair. “Then it’s settled. I’ll write back and confirm a meeting.”
Elaine smiled again, colder this time. “Do that. And try not to embarrass yourself before negotiations even begin.”
Arslan paused. Then he looked at her with the expression of a man who knew that, somehow, the hardest part of this entire operation might not be the guildmaster they were going to meet. It might be surviving the trip with his dignity mostly intact.
They began preparing for the trip the very next day.
It had been a while since Ludger had gone anywhere alone with his father, and Arslan was in a noticeably better mood because of it. Not subtle either. He moved around with more energy than usual, checked supplies himself, inspected the route twice even though that was unnecessary, and generally carried the air of a man who had decided to enjoy the outing before it had even started.
Ludger noticed. He just didn’t comment on it immediately.
Elaine, meanwhile, was seated nearby with the twins, looking entirely too calm for someone sending her husband off to meet an old woman he had clearly left behind in a less than graceful way.
That alone was suspicious.
Ludger adjusted part of his gear, then looked at her. “Why aren’t you coming?”
Elaine raised an eyebrow. “Because I don’t want to get involved in one of your father’s messes.”
Arslan made a face. “That sounds harsher than necessary.”
Elaine ignored him completely.
“Besides,” she added, shifting one of the twins slightly in her arms, “if I went there with the children, Maris would probably go easier on him.”
Arslan blinked. Elaine’s smile was faint. Cold, but faint.
“And I don’t want that.”
Ludger paused for half a second, then nodded once. That made sense.
Arslan sighed toward the ceiling like a man whose suffering had somehow become a household project. “It’s good to know I’m loved.”
“You are,” Elaine said smoothly. “That’s why I’m letting you go at all. Go apologize properly for one of your many, many, many mistakes.”
That answer did not improve his expression. Ludger looked between the two of them, then back at his father.
“So she wants you to suffer properly first.”
Elaine nodded in approval. “Exactly.”
Arslan rubbed a hand over his face. “I truly regret asking questions in this house.”
“No,” Elaine said. “You regret your past choices. This is just the result of catching up.”
Ludger said nothing, but that sounded about right. Arslan glanced at him, clearly hoping for at least a little support from his son. Ludger shrugged. There was none. That seemed to wound him more than it should have.
Still, despite the constant attacks on his dignity, Arslan remained in a good mood. Probably because the trip itself still appealed to him. A road, a clear objective, his son at his side, and a difficult conversation waiting at the end of it. For him, that was apparently enough to count as a decent few days.
Ludger found that mildly strange. Then again, his father had always been simple in certain ways. Not stupid. Just straightforward.
Give him a direction, a challenge, and someone worth protecting or supporting, and he seemed to settle naturally into himself. It was one of the few things about Arslan that never really changed.
Elaine stood and stepped closer before they left, her gaze settling on Arslan first.
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“Try not to embarrass yourself.”
Arslan looked offended. “That assumes I planned to.”
“It assumes history,” Elaine corrected.
Then she looked at Ludger.
“And you,” she said, “try not to turn a negotiation trip into a territorial expansion plan before you even arrive.”
Ludger met her gaze without blinking. “The charm that inherited from you mom, makes such things happen automatically.”
Elaine sighed. “Yes, that was the answer I expected.”
With that, the last preparations were finished. The trip was set. And Arslan, despite everything waiting for him at the other end, still looked annoyingly pleased to be heading out.
After leaving Yvar in charge of the guild, they set out three days later toward the negotiation grounds.
The road was calm enough at first. Just the usual rhythm of travel, horses, dust, the steady pull of distance, and the occasional silence that came easier between people who didn’t need to fill every moment with noise. Ludger didn’t mind it. It gave him time to think. After a while, he glanced at his father and spoke.
“I have some idea of what we’ll be dealing with based on the letter,” he said. “But I still want to hear it from you directly.”
Arslan’s hands tightened slightly on the reins. Then he forced a smile. Not a good one. The kind people made when they were already regretting a conversation before it started.
“I was hoping,” he said, “that maybe the letter had covered enough.”
Ludger looked at him without expression. Arslan sighed. Yes. That was about the response he deserved.
He kept his eyes on the road for a few more seconds before speaking again. “I’m not entirely sure I want to talk about it.”
Ludger waited.
Arslan let out another breath through his nose. “But I suppose I have to. Better you hear it from me now than watch it unfold there and start making conclusions on your own.”
“That would probably happen anyway,” Ludger said.
“That,” Arslan muttered, “is exactly what worries me.”
Ludger said nothing to that.
The wind moved through the roadside grass as they kept riding, and for a few moments Arslan stayed quiet, as if sorting through memories he would’ve preferred to leave where they were.
Eventually, he gave up on avoiding it.
“Maris isn’t stupid,” he said. “That should be obvious already from the letter. She never was. Sharp, proud, and stubborn enough to start a fight with someone twice her size if she thought they were being insulting.” A faint grimace crossed his face. “Which happened more than once.”
Ludger listened.
Arslan continued in a tone that suggested he was trying very hard to make this sound normal. “She’s the kind of person who remembers details. Not just facts. Tone. Timing. What someone meant. What they avoided saying. What they should’ve said and didn’t.” He glanced sideways at Ludger for a moment. “So if she decides to test you, don’t assume it’ll be direct.”
“That’s fine.”
Arslan snorted softly. “I know you think so.”
He adjusted his posture slightly in the saddle before going on.
“She also won’t be impressed just because Lionsguard is growing fast. She’ll respect strength, yes, but not the lazy kind. If she thinks we came only because we’ve gotten big enough to treat other guilds like stepping stones, she’ll turn difficult on purpose.”
“So we don’t approach her like that,” Ludger said.
“Yes,” Arslan replied. “But the problem is that she’ll already suspect it.”
That made sense. The letter alone had made that obvious enough.
Maris wasn’t someone who would hear “alliance” and assume equal goodwill. She would hear opportunity, leverage, old history, and hidden intent all at once. Which meant any mistake in tone would matter more than the words themselves.
Ludger looked ahead at the road. “What kind of guild does she run?”
“A good one,” Arslan said immediately. “Not the biggest. Not the richest. But stable. Disciplined enough. Strong enough to matter. And old enough that the people there have pride in what they built.” He paused for a second. “That last part matters. A lot.”
Because pride complicated negotiations. Especially when money and power were involved. Arslan kept talking, perhaps because now that he had started, stopping would only make it harder again.
“If we push too hard, she’ll resist. If we sound too generous, she’ll distrust it. If we act too cautious, she’ll think we’re hiding weakness. And if I say the wrong thing…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. That part is unfortunately very possible.”
Ludger glanced at him.
“So you were really that bad?”
Arslan forced out a tired laugh. “Worse than I’d like to admit. Better than the letter makes it sound. Probably.”
Ludger considered that for a moment, then nodded once. Fair enough. Arslan looked forward again, expression settling into something more resigned.
“In any case,” he said, “I need you prepared for one thing above all.” His voice became firmer. “She will not separate me from the negotiation. Not entirely. Even if she’s interested in you, even if she respects Lionsguard more than she respects me, I’m still part of the situation. Old history will be in the room whether we like it or not.”
Ludger’s expression didn’t change.
“That doesn’t matter.”
Arslan gave him a sidelong look. “It matters if it changes the flow.”
“Then I’ll adjust.”
That answer came so simply that Arslan almost laughed again.
They traveled by proper roads instead of using the underground tunnels. This was an official trip. That meant appearances mattered.
If they arrived too quietly, too quickly, or in a way that suggested secrecy, then the whole tone of the meeting would shift before a word was even spoken. For negotiations like this, it was better to be visible. Better to look exactly like what they were claiming to be, two representatives of a rising guild coming openly to talk, not sneaking through the land like they were preparing an ambush.
So they used the roads. The actual roads.
Well-traveled stretches of stone and packed earth, with merchant carts passing now and then, patrols in the distance, and the occasional roadside stop that reminded Ludger just how much movement shaped a territory more than most people understood. It was slower than the tunnels.
But cleaner. And in this case, cleaner was worth more. For a while, neither of them said much. The sound of hooves and the low rhythm of travel filled the silence well enough on its own.
Eventually, though, Arslan broke it.
“The twins have been restless lately.”
Ludger glanced at him and frowned slightly. “How restless exactly?”
Arslan exhaled through his nose, already sounding tired.
“They see the adults around them working nonstop. Training nonstop. Building, fighting, carrying things, shaping stone, practicing skills…” He shook his head a little. “So to them, that just looks normal.”
Ludger said nothing. That, unfortunately, also made sense.
Children copied what they saw. And the environment around Lionfang had become the kind where effort was constant. People trained because they wanted to get stronger. Worked because things were growing too quickly to sit still. Practiced magic because it was useful, interesting, or necessary. Even rest tended to look temporary.
Arslan kept going. “I wanted to give them a few more years before teaching them anything seriously.”
That made Ludger look at him again.
“But more often than not,” Arslan said, “I catch them with sticks in their hands, trying to train on their own.”