That word came out more naturally than anything else he’d said.
Family. And it fit. Not because the Lionsguard was soft. Not because it lacked hierarchy, discipline, or ambition. But because the people around it had started binding themselves to each other in ways that went beyond contracts and coin.
Arslan’s voice dropped a little, though the pride in it only deepened.
“Gaius, Maurien, the northerners. People who could’ve gone elsewhere, built elsewhere, stayed alone, or sold themselves to bigger names.” He gave a small shrug. “Instead, they’re with us.”
Then he smiled again, wider this time.
“And it keeps happening. That’s the ridiculous part. He doesn’t even chase people the normal way. He just keeps doing things that are so useful, so outrageous, or so impressive that they end up getting pulled in anyway.”
Maris watched him through the whole thing without trying to stop him.
She simply sat there with her cheek resting against her hand, eyes on him, expression caught somewhere between tolerance and old familiarity, like she had seen this exact rhythm of pride and momentum in him before, just pointed at a different target now.
Arslan either didn’t notice or chose not to care.
“Honestly,” he said, “a lot of what Lionsguard is now wouldn’t exist without him. Not at this level. Not this fast. I helped, obviously. Elaine too. A lot of people did. But the center of the momentum?” He tapped a finger once against the table. “That’s him.”
Maris let the silence sit for a second after that.
Then she said, perfectly dry, “You have grown a bit.”
Arslan blinked. Maris’ mouth twitched faintly.
“But you still brag the same way you did when you were fourteen. You brag about him like you used to brag about yourself.”
That made him stop just long enough to realize how much he’d been talking. Then he snorted and leaned back again, one hand coming up to scratch the side of his jaw. Arslan laughed anyway, because the worst part was that she was right.
Even now, after all these years, once he started talking about something he cared about, something or someone he was proud of, there was still that same blunt, unpolished force to it. Less boyish than before, maybe. More grounded. But the core of it had survived.
Maris, still supporting her head with one hand, studied him with that faintly unimpressed look. And for the first time since the conversation started, the air in the office felt less like a battlefield and more like something older, stranger, and almost familiar.
After a brief pause, Arslan asked, “What about Elira?”
Maris’ eyes narrowed slightly.
Arslan lifted one shoulder, keeping his tone casual enough not to sound like he was prying too hard. “She looked serious enough while she was working. Very much like you.” A faint grin pulled at his mouth. “Then she recognized Ludger and did a complete turn.”
Maris’ expression went flat again almost instantly.
“My daughter,” she said, “is none of your business.”
Arslan didn’t answer that. Not because he lacked one. Mostly because he had enough sense left to understand that any answer would probably worsen his condition.
So silence stretched between them for a few seconds. Then Maris sighed and looked away, her gaze drifting toward the window instead of staying on him.
“Unlike Ludger,” she said at last, “she doesn’t want to be tied to a guild.”
Arslan stayed quiet and let her continue.
“She works here. She helps. She does what needs doing.” Maris’ mouth tightened faintly. “But she doesn’t want to inherit this place.”
That made him raise an eyebrow.
Maris folded her arms. “She wants to travel.”
Arslan nodded slowly at that.
“I see.”
There was a short pause before he added, “So she’s a bit different from you.”
Maris let out a dry breath through her nose.
“Yes,” she said. “She is.”
Something in her tone shifted after that. Not softer. Just heavier.
“She’s like her father was.”
That made Arslan still slightly. Maris kept looking away as she spoke.
“He calmed down after Elira was born,” she said. “A lot, actually. More than I expected.” Her voice stayed even, but there was something under it now. Something quieter and more worn. “Before that, he always wanted movement. Roads. New places. Work in one city, rumors in another, and some new horizon after that.” Her fingers tapped once against her arm. “Elira got that from him.”
Arslan listened without interruption. Then Maris added, “And then he died. Ten years ago. Alongside the guildmaster, preventing the breach.”
That settled into the room heavily. Arslan said nothing. He had heard about it before, in fragments. Rumors. The kind of news that moved through guild circles and stayed there afterward as one more hard fact in a world already full of them.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Still, hearing Maris say it directly made it land differently. Not sharper. Just more real.
Maris’ gaze stayed fixed away from him for another moment before she spoke again. “So yes. She’s different from me.” A faint, humorless curve touched her mouth. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
Arslan didn’t answer right away. There wasn’t much he could say to that without sounding shallow or foolish. And for once, he had the sense not to force words into a place where they weren’t needed. Maris let the silence sit for a few moments longer before her expression hardened again into something more practical.
“Enough sentimentality,” she said. “Why did you send that letter?”
Arslan let out a quiet breath through his nose. There it was. The real conversation.
He shifted slightly in his chair, posture straightening as he answered. “Because Ludger wants more resources.”
Maris raised an eyebrow. “That sounds harmless when you say it like that.”
“It isn’t,” Arslan admitted.
That got the faintest twitch from the corner of her mouth.
Arslan went on, “The Lionsguard has grown too much for what we currently control. We have good sources. Strong ones. But not enough to match the size, quality, and direction the guild is taking.” He paused briefly. “Ludger’s answer to that problem was… aggressive.”
Maris leaned back slightly. “How aggressive?”
Arslan forced a smile. “At one point, he was planning to challenge half the guilds in the Empire for their labyrinths.”
Maris stared at him. Then she laughed once. Not because she thought it was a joke. Because it sounded exactly absurd enough to be true.
“You’re serious.”
“Unfortunately.”
Maris looked at him for another second, then shook her head slowly. “That child really is your son in the worst possible ways.”
Arslan sighed. “That was more or less my reaction too.”
He rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “Thankfully, he calmed down a bit.”
“That does not sound reassuring when attached to that sentence.”
“It isn’t fully reassuring,” Arslan admitted. “But it’s better than it was.”
Maris folded her arms. “Meaning?”
“Meaning he started thinking about backlash,” Arslan said. “If Lionsguard keeps swallowing resources too quickly, other guilds will start hating us in a more coordinated way. So instead of trying to take everything directly, he decided it would be smarter to work with some other guilds instead.”
That made Maris’ gaze sharpen. Not hostile. Interested.
“So this is about alliances.”
“Yes.”
“And profit-sharing.”
“Yes.”
“And access.”
“Yes.”
Arslan looked at her evenly. “Ludger wants expansion. More resources. More reach. More ways to keep Lionsguard growing without making the whole Empire turn and bite at once.” He paused. “Working with other guilds is the cleaner answer.”
Maris was quiet for a second after that, studying him carefully.
Then she said, “And you?”
Arslan blinked. “What about me?”
“Do you think it’s the cleaner answer?”
Arslan considered it.
Then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
That answer was simple.
And honest.
“Because taking everything alone would work for a while,” he said. “But only for a while. After that, it becomes conquest by another name. Working with other guilds gives us room to grow wider without making every other group feel like they’re about to be choked to death.”
Maris’ expression didn’t change much, but the fact that she didn’t interrupt meant she was listening seriously now. Arslan leaned forward slightly.
“Ludger still wants control,” he said. “Let me be clear about that. He’d prefer everything under one structure if he could make it happen cleanly. But even he can see the merit in building cooperation instead of just taking.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “That’s where this comes in.”
Maris tapped one finger once against the desk.
“So you came here because you think my guild is useful.”
Arslan didn’t insult her by denying it. “Yes.”
Arslan let the silence settle for a moment before continuing.
“There’s something else you should know,” he said. “Our relationship with the regent is… difficult.”
Maris’ eyes narrowed slightly. “I had guessed as much.”
Arslan nodded once. “Ludger has no interest in putting on a leash just because someone in power thinks they deserve one. He’ll cooperate when it makes sense. He’ll negotiate when it’s useful. But if the regent expects obedience just because Lionsguard is growing…” He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “That won’t end well.”
Maris said nothing, so he kept going.
“It’s only a matter of time before things get more complicated.” His gaze stayed on her, steady and direct now. “And if your guild chooses to work with us, you might suffer backlash because of it.”
That made the room feel a little heavier. Not because the possibility was surprising. Because Arslan didn’t try to soften it. No easy phrasing. No polished half-truth. No attempt to dress danger up as opportunity and hope the other side only noticed the benefits. He just placed the risk on the table and left it there where it belonged.
Still, his next words came just as firmly.
“But we don’t abandon our friends.”
Maris’ expression didn’t change, though her attention sharpened. Arslan leaned forward slightly.
“We’re only offering this because we know both sides can benefit from it,” he said. “Resources. trade. growth. More reach for us. More strength and stability for the guilds working with us. That part is real.” He paused. “But if problems come from that, we won’t pretend the alliance only matters while things are profitable.”
That landed differently than everything else he had said so far. Not louder. Just cleaner. Maris studied him with a faint frown. Because this wasn’t the Arslan she remembered most clearly.
The younger version of him would have pushed harder. Sold the gain, dismissed the cost, grinned through resistance, and tried to get what he wanted by force of confidence alone if words didn’t work fast enough. He would have chased the outcome first and trusted that the rest would somehow sort itself out later.
This Arslan wasn’t doing that. He was negotiating. Actually negotiating.
Not just for the next day or the next deal, but with the future sitting visibly in the middle of the room. Political pressure. Shared risk. Reputation. Fallout. What happened after the first profit, after the first conflict, after the first test of whether cooperation meant anything when it became inconvenient.
He was thinking past the immediate win. And Maris could clearly tell. Her frown deepened slightly, not out of anger, but because seeing him be logical and reasonable like this was still strange enough to be mildly offensive.
After a few seconds, she asked, “You really thought this through.”
Arslan gave a short, humorless smile. “I had to.”
Maris kept watching him. There was no easy mockery to use against that. Not when he had openly admitted the risk, stated the value, and made it clear he wasn’t trying to trap her into a pretty arrangement that only worked while the weather stayed good.
For all his old failures, for all the stupidity she still remembered too well, he was sitting in front of her now like a man who had finally learned that wanting something and being responsible for its consequences were supposed to come together.
And that, more than his words alone, made the offer harder to dismiss.