The next few weeks rolled by without a hitch. The initial shock wore off, replaced by a steady stream of visitors dropping by the tavern or the house to congratulate Elaine and Arslan. Neighbors brought bread, little gifts, and soft smiles. Even a few of Arslan’s old acquaintances stopped in, clasping his shoulder with knowing grins.

Arslan stood a little straighter each time, a proud half-smile tugging at his face. “Third genius kid on the way,” he’d say, voice warm, and everyone would laugh.

Ludger lingered at the edge of the room more than once, arms folded, biting back the obvious joke. Should I ask him how many ‘genius kids’ he’s got scattered out there? he thought dryly. But each time he caught the flicker of a different aura—Elaine’s pregnant glare sharpened to a knife-edge at the mere hint of teasing—and he decided his tongue was better kept behind his teeth. No point provoking his mother’s murderous aura while she was carrying a baby.

So he just smirked quietly, helping serve tea or clear dishes, while his father basked in congratulations and his mother managed a polite smile. The house felt different—warmer, noisier, like it was already bracing itself for one more heartbeat under its roof.

Later that night, after the last visitor had left and the house was quiet again, Ludger sat by the window with his map rolled out on his knees. Candlelight flickered across his face as he stared at the little notations he’d made of the goblin labyrinth and the border town.

Kids are accidents that are bound to happen, he thought dryly. Should’ve seen this coming.

He exhaled and rubbed at his temples. Doesn’t matter. A new sibling changes the math whether I like it or not.

The idea of a guild still burned in the back of his mind, but the pieces didn’t fit the way they had a few weeks ago. He pictured his father at a desk instead of a training yard, dealing with permits, recruitment, merchants—a guildmaster on paper while Ludger handled the field work. It would be a neat way to anchor Arslan at home and offload the annoying logistics.

But then he pictured the newborn, Elaine recovering, and Arslan traveling back and forth to a guild several days away. The timing was a mess. Too far. Too soon.

He leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. I need a plan that fits around the family instead of smashing through it. The weights on his limbs weren’t the only drag now; responsibility was starting to press just as hard.

He closed the map slowly, tucking it into his bag. One thing at a time. Train. Save. Watch for an opening. The guild would come, but maybe not on the timeline he’d first imagined.

The next morning, Ludger stepped outside, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and found his father already there. Arslan moved through sword drills with slow precision, sweat glinting on his arms despite the chill. Each cut hissed through the air like a whip.

Ludger waited until a lull in the pattern before speaking. “Dad.”

Arslan glanced over his shoulder, blade still in hand. “What is it?”

Ludger leaned against the fence, watching him. “Are you okay money-wise?”

Arslan blinked, lowering the sword. “Money-wise?”

“Yeah.” Ludger’s tone stayed even. “You haven’t been exploring labyrinths lately. And Lord Torvares hasn’t called you since we helped recover that other town. Just wondering if you’re fine.”

Arslan rested the blade against his shoulder, eyebrows lifting a fraction at the question. “I’m managing,” he said after a beat. “Coins from the war are still lasting. A few old favors still trickling in. Why?”

Ludger shrugged. “Just making sure. With a new kid on the way, I figured you’d need to start thinking about it.”

A faint smile touched Arslan’s face, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes at his son’s bluntness. “I appreciate it, Luds,” he said, voice softer. “But don’t worry. I’ve got some things in motion.”

He rolled his shoulders and set his feet again, but for a moment the sword stayed lowered, the two of them standing in the cool mist, a father surprised at how much like an adult his nine-year-old sounded.

Ludger watched his father reset his stance, the sword’s edge catching a thin line of morning light. “What about the labyrinth on the border?” he asked after a beat. “Are they making any progress taking it back from the barbarians?”

Arslan exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. “Hnh. Not yet.” He let the sword drop to his side and gave a small shrug. “Lord Torvares has been pouring men and coin into reinforcing the town first. Barricades, supply routes, training the locals. My guess? He’s building a wall before he makes a push.”

“So no progress about the labyrinth?” Ludger pressed.

Arslan shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. If anything, they’re just trying to keep the barbarians from spilling over again. But…” He scratched at his stubble, a glint of something knowing in his eyes. “If I know the old bull, he’s preparing to fight for it. Reinforce, then strike. That’s probably why we haven’t seen Viola much lately. She’s probably knee-deep in whatever training and planning he’s running over there.”

Ludger absorbed that, leaning against the fence. It fits. Reinforce, build, then push. The same rhythm he was using himself on a smaller scale. He folded his arms, eyes on the mist curling over the yard. Figures. She’s already in the thick of it.

Arslan lifted the sword again and went back to his drills, the slow hiss of steel marking the pause between father and son’s thoughts.

Ludger watched his father’s blade sweep through another arc, mist curling around his boots. “If they manage to take the labyrinth back,” he asked suddenly, “can we make that town safer? I mean… actually safe. Not just patched up.”

Arslan stopped mid-swing and planted the blade into the earth, leaning on the hilt. “Safer?” He rubbed his jaw, eyes narrowing as he thought. “Possible. But it’s not as simple as killing goblins and planting a flag.”

Ludger tilted his head. “What would it take?”

Arslan’s voice shifted into the slow, steady tone he used when explaining tactics. “First, permanent garrison. Not just passing soldiers, but a unit stationed there year-round with decent pay so they stay put. Second, supply lines — you can’t defend a town if the caravans keep getting hit. You need cleared roads, fortified checkpoints, and enough coin to replace what’s lost.”

He ticked off each point on a calloused finger. “Third, walls worth a damn. Stone, not wood. You can’t build that while you’re still under attack, so you have to hold the area long enough to bring in masons and materials. Fourth, a labyrinth outpost. A guild branch or at least a squad of veteran adventurers willing to clean the first few floors daily so monsters don’t pile up near the entrance.”

Arslan’s eyes met Ludger’s. “And last? People. You need civilians who actually want to live there after all that blood’s been spilled. Farmers, merchants, families. Without them, the place stays a military camp, not a town.”

He shrugged, the steel glinting in the mist. “Do all that and, yeah, you can make it safer. But it’s coin and time, Luds. Years, not weeks. And someone with enough weight to make the whole thing stick.”

Ludger absorbed the words in silence, mind already running ahead to maps and numbers. Arslan hefted the blade again and went back to his drills, each cut punctuating another hard truth about building a future on the edge of a battlefield.

Arslan let the blade’s tip rest in the dirt and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not the type to ask about garrisons and supply lines for fun, Luds. What’s this really about?”

The mist hung between them, cool against Arslan’s sweat-warmed skin. He kept his gaze on the ground, toeing at the mud with his boot. Do I tell him? The thought hit like a weight in his stomach. If I do, there’s no walking it back.

He pictured his father’s life in flashes — mercenary camps, border skirmishes, the day he’d walked back into Koa with blood still drying on his armor. Arslan had many flaws — he drank, he joked, he let Elaine handle more than she should — but he wasn’t stupid. And he’d lived a life richer, harder, and wider than most. If anyone could see the cracks in Ludger’s idea before it broke, it was him.

Arslan tilted his head, studying his son the way he studied an opponent’s stance. “You’ve been running yourself ragged before dawn, hauling coin, talking about outposts… you’re not just thinking about the next fight, are you?”

Ludger’s jaw tightened. In his head he saw the map of the goblin labyrinth, the border town, the line of notes about guild logistics. He’d been building a future in silence — a guild, influence, power — but all of it had been kept in the dark like a sprouting seed. Saying it out loud would drag it into the sun. It would also make it real.

He drew a slow breath, still unsure. Do I trust him with this? Do I tell him what I’m actually planning?

Arslan stayed quiet, letting the question hang in the cool morning air. The weight of his stare was heavier than the sword still planted in the dirt.

Ludger straightened slowly, the cool morning air filling his lungs. Enough dancing around it. He met his father’s eyes. “I’m thinking about starting a guild.”

Arslan blinked once, the only crack in his calm. “A guild?” His voice was low, not mocking, but sharper now. “At nine?”

Ludger didn’t flinch. “Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon. I’ve been saving coin, testing myself. I’m not just training for the sake of it. I want something bigger than running errands and healing people at the tavern.”

Arslan’s expression stayed unreadable, so Ludger pressed on. “I want power. I want influence. And I want people who’ll watch each other’s backs when things get ugly. We’ve seen what happens when towns get left alone out there — they burn. If we had a guild built right, it wouldn’t just make money. It could make a place safer. It could give people a shot instead of leaving them as bait.”

He folded his arms, eyes narrowing. “I’m not naïve. I know I’m young. But I’m not planning to be a lone fighter forever. I’m planning to build something.”

For a moment the only sound was the soft hiss of mist sliding over the grass and the faint clink of Arslan’s sword against its hilt. Ludger held his father’s gaze, waiting to see if the man would laugh, scold him, or take him seriously.

Arslan stayed silent, but his grip on the sword tightened, his jaw working as the words sank in.

Arslan finally lifted the sword from the dirt and rested it across his shoulders, studying his son the way he would an opponent sizing up a strike. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t bark at him to forget it. He just nodded once, slow.

“You’re smart,” he said at last. “And stronger than any nine-year-old I’ve ever seen. Smarter than most grown men I’ve fought beside.” He shifted the sword, its weight easy in his hands. “But this—” he tapped the blade against his shoulder “—this isn’t that simple.”

Ludger stayed quiet, eyes locked on him.

“A guild isn’t just a banner and a few fighters,” Arslan went on. “It’s politics, coin, permits, favors, feuds. It’s keeping people fed and paid even when the jobs dry up. It’s watching your recruits die and still getting up the next morning to lead the ones who are left. It’s fighting monsters with one hand and merchants with the other.”

His voice hardened, each word like a hammer blow. “You build it wrong, you bury yourself under debts and corpses. You build it right, you still bleed for it every day.”

Arslan’s eyes narrowed, but there was no ridicule in them — only the weight of experience. “I’m not saying you can’t do it. I’m saying don’t mistake raw strength for readiness. You’ve got brains, you’ve got power. But a guild is a war that never ends. You sure you’re ready for that?”

Ludger drew a slow breath, the mist cool on his skin, his father’s words heavy but not crushing. The seed of his plan was still there, rooted deeper now.

Ludger’s smirk widened as he leaned against the fence. “Actually, I was thinking the opposite,” he said.

Arslan raised an eyebrow, sword resting on his shoulder. “Opposite how?”

“I want you to be the guildmaster,” Ludger said, tone calm but eyes glinting. “Handle the paperwork, the permits, the coin, the politics. Keep the machine running. And I’ll be the one going out, fighting, exploring, having fun. Someone has to be in the field.”

For a moment Arslan just stared at him, the idea clicking into place in his head. He could see himself sitting behind a desk, signing off requests, dealing with merchants, while Ludger roamed free. The mental picture made his shoulders slump.

He let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. “Wonderful. First your mother runs the tavern and the house like a general, now you want to make me the guildmaster and send me to the office. You’re becoming just like her… already starting to bully me.”

Ludger’s smirk turned into a dry chuckle. “Not bullying. Delegating.”

Arslan groaned, tipping his head back to the sky. “Gods help me. She’s multiplied.” But there was a flicker of reluctant amusement in his eyes as he imagined the two of them trying to boss him around from different buildings.

Arslan rubbed at his jaw for a long moment, then finally gave a short nod. “You know what?” he said quietly. “I’d take that job.”

Ludger blinked, surprised.

“I’ve spent too many years drifting from fight to fight,” Arslan went on, voice lower now. “If running a guild keeps me grounded, maybe I can dodge the mistakes I made before. It’s not the worst way to spend the next chapter of my life… especially with another kid on the way.”

Ludger’s smirk faded into something more thoughtful. “You’d really do it?”

“I would.” Arslan’s eyes sharpened again. “But listen carefully, Luds— in one way or another, you’re going to have to bring Lord Torvares into this. That town isn’t just some patch of dirt; it isn’t in his sphere, not some rival noble’s territory. Nothing moves there without his say-so given his recent obtained influence.”

Ludger exhaled, nodding slowly. He’d suspected as much, but hearing it from his father gave the idea more weight. “So I can’t just walk in and build it.”

“No,” Arslan said flatly. “You either get his blessing, his backing, or you find yourself crushed under red tape of enemies before you even hang a sign. You’re smart enough to know which road’s better.”

Ludger folded his arms, mind already turning over the new problem. Arslan set the dullblade on his shoulder again, studying him. “You’ve got a plan. That’s good. But power means players, Luds. You can’t play alone.”

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