The biggest demerit was control. Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly. Full control was clean.
Full control meant orders moved in one direction. Standards remained consistent. Punishment stayed simple. Rewards stayed simple. Ambition stayed under one roof. He knew exactly who was working, who was slacking, who was lying, and who needed to be pushed harder. That was how he preferred things.
Other guilds would complicate that immediately. Allies had their own interests. Their own habits. Their own levels of discipline, greed, pride, cowardice, and stupidity.
Some would be competent. Some would be useful only until profit shifted. Some would start loyal and become difficult the moment they realized proximity to Lionsguard gave them leverage. Others would misunderstand the arrangement entirely and assume cooperation meant equality.
That was dangerous. Not because they could overpower him. But because people who misunderstood their place had a habit of creating problems at inconvenient times. There was also the issue of quality.
Lionsguard’s standards were rising fast. Training, equipment, structure, cohesion, support, his people were becoming harder, more useful, and more efficient year by year. That would not automatically apply to allied guilds. Even if they worked together, there would still be a gap. A serious one.
That meant inefficiency. Mistakes. And if they were allowed into labyrinth operations, then their weakness could become his problem very quickly.
A poor allied team dying inside a valuable site wasn’t just a waste of bodies. It could cost resources, timing, control of the area, and political stability all at once.
Then there was betrayal. Not dramatic betrayal. That kind was easy to solve. The annoying kind. Leakage of information. Side deals. Undercutting. Quiet complaints to nobles. Secret agreements with competitors. Attempts to skim profits, keep materials hidden, or use Lionsguard access to build themselves up faster than intended. That sort of thing was harder to crush cleanly.
Ludger leaned back slightly in his chair. So that was the real shape of it.
Working with other guilds would lower backlash, widen his reach, reduce political visibility, and make some labyrinth acquisitions smoother. It would let the Lionsguard grow without looking like it was devouring everything in a straight line.
But in exchange, he would lose purity of control. Not fully. Just enough to be irritating.
Enough that he’d need systems. Ranking structures. Profit rules. Enforcement terms. Clear chains of dependency. Enough pressure that cooperation remained profitable, but not so much freedom that allies started imagining themselves as independent equals with shared direction.
That part, at least, was solvable. He didn’t need true partners. He needed subordinate allies. Guilds that benefited from his rise enough to stay loyal, but not enough to become comfortable. Guilds that grew stronger because of Lionsguard, while always understanding exactly why they were allowed to.
That would work. Probably better than direct conquest in the long term. Ludger’s gaze moved across the map again, slower this time. If he did this right, then he wouldn’t merely be expanding a guild. He would be building layers around it. Outer rings.
Smaller groups tied to Lionfang through money, resources, access, and dependence. A structure that looked broad and cooperative from the outside… while still being his from the center outward. That thought settled something in him.
That had merit. A lot more than he liked admitting. That night, Ludger brought it up over dinner. The food was warm, the table was full, and for once the house actually felt quiet. Not empty. Just calm enough that conversation didn’t need to fight through ten other problems first. Ludger ate for a bit before speaking.
“I’ve been thinking about working with other guilds,” he said.
Arslan glanced up from his plate. Elaine did the same a moment later, though hers came with that sharper look that said she was already trying to guess what sort of mess this would eventually become. Ludger continued without dragging it out.
“If the Lionsguard keeps expanding alone, people will start hating us faster. Especially guilds that lose work because of us.” He cut another piece of food, then added flatly, “So I’m considering alliances. Smaller guilds, mostly. Let them share in profits, resource access, maybe labyrinth operations.”
Elaine raised an eyebrow. “You’re considering sharing?”
Ludger ignored the tone. Arslan leaned back slightly in his chair, thinking it through instead of answering right away.
Ludger looked at him. “Is that a good idea?”
Arslan nodded after a moment.
“It is,” he said. “If you do it properly.”
Ludger waited.
Arslan set his utensils down and folded his arms loosely. “Because that stops it from being only about improving the Lionsguard.” His voice was calm, but firm. “If you build something that helps other guilds grow too, then you’re not just strengthening your own power. You’re improving the Empire’s structure as a whole.”
Ludger’s expression barely changed, though he did pay closer attention.
Arslan continued, “Roads, safer routes, access to resources, shared contracts, stronger regional guilds… those things don’t only make Lionfang richer. They make the frontier more stable. They make trade easier. They make people less desperate.” He shrugged once. “That matters.”
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Elaine nodded in agreement. “It does.”
She took a sip before continuing.
“And frankly, doing something a little more social would be good for you.”
Ludger looked at her.
Elaine met his stare without the slightest concern. “I’m serious.”
Arslan snorted once into his drink.
Elaine went on anyway. “Trying to work with people instead of only collecting money, power, and enemies would be healthy.”
“I don’t collect enemies,” Ludger said.
Elaine gave him a flat look. “No. You just keep acquiring them at an impressive rate.”
That made Arslan cough into his hand, suspiciously close to laughter. Ludger clicked his tongue, but said nothing.
Elaine’s expression softened slightly after that. “I’m not saying you have to become friendly with everyone,” she said. “But trying to build something that helps more than just your own guild?” She nodded once. “That’s a good thing.”
Her gaze sharpened a little.
“And if you can manage to be even slightly more sociable in the process, that would be even better.”
Ludger stared at her for a second. “That sounds unrelated.”
“It isn’t,” Elaine said immediately. “People are easier to work with when they don’t feel like you’re one sentence away from threatening to bury them alive.”
Arslan looked down at his food very carefully.
Ludger leaned back slightly, arms folding across his chest. So both of them agreed. That was mildly annoying. Mostly because it meant the idea probably had more merit than he wanted it to.
Arslan picked up his drink again. “If you build a structure where other guilds grow stronger under your influence, that gives you reach without forcing everything through one center. That’s useful.” His gaze settled on Ludger. “And it gives people a reason to see Lionsguard as something other than a threat.”
Elaine nodded. “Which would be nice for a change.”
Ludger looked between the two of them. One was talking about broader stability. The other was, somehow, turning guild politics into commentary on his personality. Both were annoying. Both were also correct. After a few seconds, he exhaled through his nose.
Ludger took another bite, chewed, swallowed, and then looked at his father.
“Do you know any guilds that would be worth approaching first?” he asked. “Ones you could help negotiate with.”
Arslan raised an eyebrow. “You want me involved directly?”
“You know more people,” Ludger said. “And if possible, I’d prefer one labyrinth that would actually be difficult to deal with.” His expression stayed flat. “If I’m going to start this, I might as well test it properly.”
Arslan gave a short huff that might have been amusement.
“Of course I know a few,” he said.
Then he stopped.
It was subtle at first. Just a pause a little too long to be natural. His posture stiffened slightly. His gaze shifted away from Ludger for half a second, then toward the table, as if some old memory had just crawled back out of the ground to make his evening worse.
Ludger noticed immediately. Elaine noticed faster.
Ludger narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Arslan said too quickly.
That alone made it obvious something was wrong. Ludger kept staring at him. Arslan hesitated, and in the process made the mistake of very carefully not looking at Elaine. Elaine slowly set down her utensils. Then she looked at him with the kind of calm that usually meant someone was about to suffer.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Your contact is a woman.”
Arslan said nothing. Elaine’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“A woman you probably messed around with.”
Arslan still didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. The bead of sweat starting to slide down the side of his cheek was incriminating enough all by itself. Ludger looked at him in silence for a moment.
Then at the sweat. Then back at him.
“I see,” he said flatly.
Arslan cleared his throat. “In my defense—”
“No,” Elaine said at once.
Arslan stopped. Elaine folded her arms and leaned back slightly in her chair, looking at him like she had just been handed confirmation of something deeply annoying rather than surprising.
“How many years ago?” she asked.
Arslan coughed into his hand. “That feels unrelated.”
“It feels extremely related,” Elaine replied.
Ludger watched the exchange with quiet interest. Not because he cared about the personal side of it, but because his father looking this uncomfortable usually meant the situation had actual negotiating value. Embarrassment tended to come attached to leverage.
“So,” Ludger said, cutting through the silence, “is the guild viable?”
Arslan looked at him like he had betrayed him personally by staying on topic.
“…Yes,” he admitted. “Very viable.”
“Difficult?”
Arslan grimaced faintly. “Yes.”
That made Ludger more interested, not less.
Elaine gave Arslan a sideways look. “You really do make awful first drafts of diplomacy.”
Arslan sighed. “It wasn’t diplomacy.”
“That is not helping your case.”
The fact that Arslan looked like he would rather fight a troll barehanded than continue explaining it made it sound even more useful.
Ludger leaned back slightly. “Then it works.”
Arslan stared at him. “That is your conclusion?”
“Yes.”
Elaine let out a quiet breath that was suspiciously close to laughter. “Our son really did inherit your worst traits in the most efficient way possible.”
“I don’t know if that was an insult to me or him,” Arslan muttered.
“Both,” Elaine said.
Ludger tapped a finger once against the table. “So when do we visit?”
Arslan’s expression tightened. Elaine noticed and smiled just a little too pleasantly.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Now I definitely want to know who she is.”
Arslan looked toward the ceiling for help and, unsurprisingly, found none. Ludger, meanwhile, was already thinking ahead.
An experienced leader. A difficult negotiation. And, apparently, a personal weakness his father had left behind years ago.
That sounded less like a problem and more like an opportunity. Arslan let out a slow breath, already sounding tired before he even answered.
“I’ll send a letter,” he said. “After all these years, she should’ve heard the rumors at least. That should help my reputation enough that she answers soon.”
Elaine turned her head toward him and smiled. Coldly.
It was not a kind smile. It was the sort of smile that made sensible men rethink their past decisions, present excuses, and future plans all at once.