The morning sun was still low when they set out, horses snorting clouds of steam in the cool air. Ludger shifted in the saddle, adjusting the weight of the oversized pack Elaine had insisted he bring. It dug into his shoulders, but he said nothing. Complaining would only have earned him another round of scolding.

They rode in a loose line, the clop of hooves filling the silence of the road. For Ludger, it was the first time he had gone this far from home. The land stretched wide and flat, dotted with farmland and the occasional grove of trees. Beyond that, there wasn’t much to see—no bustling markets, no curious creatures, just the endless road winding on.

What filled the air instead was the chatter of Arslan’s companions.

Harold boomed with laughter as he traded jokes with Aleia, who kept twisting his words to trip him up. Selene rolled her eyes every few minutes, though the corner of her mouth betrayed the faintest smirk at their antics. Even Cor allowed himself the occasional dry comment that made Harold groan.

Arslan, of course, joined in with gusto, throwing fuel on every joke, every tease, his grin wide and easy.

Ludger, bouncing lightly in his saddle, listened without comment. The humor washed over him, not unpleasant but not engaging either. His gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead.

It was his first real journey away from home. And yet, surrounded by laughter and bickering, it felt strangely ordinary. It was also pretty comfortable, he wouldn't mind experiecing that more times in the future.

As the hours stretched on, the flat farmland gave way to rolling hills and neat rows of vineyards. The roads grew smoother, maintained by the hands of laborers rather than the wear of carts alone. Stone markers appeared at intervals along the path, engraved with the crest of a charging red bull—signs that they had crossed into Torvares territory.

It was the first time Ludger had traveled so far from the quiet corner of the world where he had been raised. Every mile tugged at him with a strange mixture of wonder and unease.

By the time the sun began to lean westward, the city came into view.

Meronia was no sprawling capital, but it was still far larger than the village and towns Ludger had known. High stone walls ringed the city, banners snapping in the wind above the gates, each dyed crimson with the bull emblem in gold thread. Guard towers dotted the perimeter, their watchmen clad in armor polished brighter than anything Ludger had seen back home.

Inside, the streets were broad and paved with clean-cut stone. Carriages rattled past, their wheels varnished, drawn by well-fed horses. Merchants displayed goods beneath awnings striped in fine cloth, and the air buzzed with the scent of spices, perfumes, and roasting meat.

But what struck Ludger most was the order of it all. Buildings aligned neatly along the roads, colors muted but deliberate, as though the entire city had been designed to reflect the discipline of its ruling house. Even the common folk seemed to carry themselves differently—shoulders straight, steps purposeful, their gazes flicking respectfully toward the bull crests carved into stone arches and etched into metal plaques.

And above it all, rising on a hill at the city’s heart, loomed the Torvares estate. A fortress-palace of gray stone and red-tiled roofs, its outer walls bristled with battlements while manicured gardens softened its inner courtyards. Wide banners hung from its towers, the bull emblazoned in gold so large it could be seen from nearly anywhere in Meronia.

Ludger tightened his grip on his reins as they approached. So this is what nobility looks like. A place built to remind everyone who holds the reins of power.

Arslan rode ahead, waving lazily at the guards as though greeting old friends, his grin wide as ever. His companions followed without comment. Elaine’s warnings echoed faintly in Ludger’s mind—nobles are always trouble.

And looking at the city and the fortress rising above it, he couldn’t disagree.

The group’s pace slowed as they reached the wide road that climbed the hill toward the Torvares estate. The gate alone looked more imposing than anything Ludger had seen in his short life—iron bars thicker than his arms, capped with spearheads polished to a mirror sheen. Two guards in crimson-plumed helmets stood on either side, their armor gleaming as if freshly oiled. The bull crest was stamped into the chestplate of each man, leaving no doubt about who they served.

As soon as Arslan came into view, one of the guards straightened with visible irritation. His hand twitched toward his weapon, though he didn’t draw it. “You again,” the man muttered, his voice thick with restrained annoyance.

Arslan only grinned, unfazed. “Me again. Told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

The guard’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. With a sharp motion, he signaled for the gate to be opened. The heavy iron swung inward with a deep groan, revealing the cobbled path leading into the estate.

Inside the courtyard, a carriage stood ready, its crest-painted door hanging open. Viola was already there, dressed in a light but finely stitched traveling outfit, a short cape draped over her shoulders. A real short sword was strapped to her belt, as if she couldn’t bear to arrive without it.

The moment she saw them, she strode forward, ignoring the wary looks of the guards. Her scowl was as sharp as ever, though her eyes flicked immediately to Ludger.

“You’re late,” she said flatly. “I’ve been waiting.”

Arslan laughed and waved her off. “Relax, we’re right on time. You ready for your first labyrinth?”

Viola crossed her arms. “More ready than him,” she said, jerking her chin toward Ludger.

Ludger only raised an eyebrow. He didn’t rise to the bait, though inwardly he sighed. This trip is already going to be a headache.

The group didn’t leave immediately. Instead, the guards ordered them to wait in the courtyard, the excuse being that the head of the Torvares family would “see them off.”

Minutes passed.

The sun crept higher, the horses stamped impatiently, and Viola tapped her foot as though her patience were fraying. Ludger sat on a stone bench, watching the ornate doors of the estate remain stubbornly closed. Is he really taking this long just to make himself look important? he wondered. Or does he think keeping us waiting will remind us who’s in charge?

He glanced at the others. Harold was sharpening his axe without concern, Selene leaned against a wall with arms crossed, and Aleia had taken to humming some cheerful tune, seemingly unbothered. Only Cor watched the estate doors with a thoughtful expression, staff resting lightly in his hand.

Ludger finally broke the silence. “Are you all really fine with this? Crossing a beginner’s labyrinth just to babysit her? Will we even make anything worthwhile out of it?”

Harold chuckled without looking up from his blade. “Worthwhile? Kid, I’d do it for free just to see your father sweat with the old bull breathing down his neck.”

Aleia laughed softly. “Not everything’s about coin. Sometimes it’s about the story you take home. And believe me, watching Viola boss Arslan around will be worth every step.”

Selene snorted. “A beginner labyrinth won’t pay much, that’s true. But there’s always some value in keeping skills sharp. Even if this feels like a waste, better to practice in safety than get rusty.”

Cor finally spoke, his tone even. “And never forget—sometimes nobles turn the smallest gestures into debts. Even if we gain little coin, gaining a favor from the Torvares family may prove more valuable.” His gaze flicked toward Arslan. “If he doesn’t ruin it first.”

Arslan pretended not to hear, whistling as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

Ludger exhaled quietly. So even this “beginner” trip is tangled with more than I thought. Figures.

The estate doors finally creaked open, and the air in the courtyard shifted as a man stepped through.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his posture straight as a spear despite the weight of his years. His hair, once a fiery red, was streaked heavily with gray now, cropped short around a weathered face lined by age and battles both political and personal. A trimmed beard framed his jaw, also flecked with silver, giving him the air of a man who had seen everything and endured it by sheer will.

Even in simple clothes—dark wool and a crimson cloak clasped at the shoulder with a golden bull’s head—he looked formidable. His presence filled the courtyard as surely as any armored knight could have. His gray-green eyes scanned the group with the sharpness of a hawk, lingering longest on Arslan before narrowing ever so slightly.

Ludger straightened instinctively under that gaze. So this is him… the old bull himself.

The man came to a stop at the base of the steps, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. The guards shifted their stances immediately, as if his very presence commanded discipline. Viola stepped forward, her scowl softening just slightly, and bowed her head.

“Grandfather.”

His gaze softened just a fraction as he looked at her, but when it returned to the party, it was as hard as stone.

Arslan coughed awkwardly, scratching his cheek. “Er… Lord Torvares. Good to see you again.”

The older man’s jaw tightened, the lines around his mouth deepening. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and gravelly, carrying the weight of someone who had commanded people all his life.

“You’ll be taking my granddaughter into the labyrinth.” It wasn’t a question. “Remember what we agreed, Arslan. If so much as a scratch mars her skin, you will answer with your life.”

Arslan gave a strained smile, sweat already beading at his temple. “Crystal clear.”

Ludger suppressed a sigh. So much for an easy trip. Even before we’ve set foot inside, the stakes are already life or death.

Lord Torvares’s eyes shifted, settling on Ludger. The weight of his gaze was heavy enough to pin the boy in place, sharp and unyielding.

“So you’re the one,” the old man said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “The child who refused my offer of education and position. Tell me—was it arrogance? Or do you already have the insolence of your father?”

The courtyard seemed to grow quieter, every ear straining for Ludger’s answer. Even Arslan, who had stood silently like a blade waiting to be drawn, turned his head toward his son.

Ludger didn’t flinch. His lips curled into a faint smirk as he folded his arms. “I suppose I do have the insolence of my father… but at least I inherited my mother’s good looks.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then, to everyone’s surprise, the stern lord let out a bark of laughter. His voice carried across the courtyard, deep and genuine.

“At least you have a sense of humor,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s more than I can say for your father.” His eyes flicked toward Arslan, whose grin had gone stiff, caught between pride and embarrassment.

Arslan wanted to protest and say that he had a sense of humor as well, but he stayed quiet since he didn’t want to give anyone a reason to punch him. Ludger exhaled slowly, inwardly relieved. So he’s not completely humorless after all. Maybe that’s what kept him alive this long.

The old man gave him a final appraising look before turning back to Viola. “Stay close to them. Watch, learn, and don’t embarrass the family name.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Viola said, her chin lifting proudly.

With Lord Torvares’s words still hanging heavy in the air, the party mounted up to leave. Viola climbed into her family’s carriage without hesitation, her chin high as though already imagining the glory she would win inside the labyrinth. The guards moved to flank it, armor clattering as they fell into formation.

“Ludger,” Arslan called, patting the side of the carriage door. “Why don’t you ride with her? Save your strength for later.”

Ludger shook his head, already pulling himself onto his small horse. “No. I’ll keep riding. Better to improve my riding skill while I can.”

Arslan blinked, then let out a laugh. “At your age? You’ll end up with legs like tree trunks if you keep this up.”

“Better than wasting the chance,” Ludger muttered, tightening his reins. His balance in the saddle was still rough, but he was determined. If the System wouldn’t hand him a skill for riding, he’d carve it out himself the hard way.

Selene gave a small approving nod from her own mount. “Smart choice. A fighter who can’t ride is half a man in the field.”

The gates of the Torvares estate groaned shut behind them, the banners of the red bull swaying in the wind as the party rode out. Ahead lay the road to the beginner’s labyrinth, a journey that for most would be routine—yet for Ludger, it was the first real step beyond the quiet safety of home.

He glanced once toward the carriage where Viola rode. If she’s trouble inside the labyrinth, I’ll need to be ready. No matter what happens.

The road wound gently through farmland and hills, the morning sun warming their backs. Birds scattered at the sound of hooves, and the scent of freshly tilled earth carried on the breeze. For Ludger, it was still strange to be so far from home, riding among his father’s companions as though he were one of them.

The carriage rattled along the cobblestones, its wheels crunching over the occasional loose stone. Every so often, Viola leaned out the window, her scowl fixed firmly on Ludger. “You’re too stiff in the saddle,” she called, “you’ll never keep up if the pace quickens.”

Ludger gave her a flat look. “Better than sitting in a box like a pampered cat.”

That earned a bark of laughter from Harold, who nearly dropped his axe. Aleia whistled, clearly enjoying the bickering, while Selene muttered, “Focus on your seat, boy, not your tongue.”

Arslan, riding ahead, grinned like a fool. “That’s my kids! Already fighting like seasoned adventurers.”

Elaine’s warning voice echoed in Ludger’s head: don’t come back scratched. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Seasoned adventurers don’t waste energy trading insults.

The ride itself wasn’t difficult, but the monotony was broken often by Arslan’s companions. Harold told a tale about fighting an orc that turned out to be nothing but a goat in poor lighting. Aleia teased him mercilessly, adding exaggerated bleats that had Selene shaking her head. Even Cor, usually the calm one, offered the occasional dry comment that made Harold groan louder than the wheels of the carriage.

Viola didn’t laugh. She stayed quiet most of the time, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, though Ludger noticed her lips twitch once or twice at Harold’s expense.

Hours later, the road narrowed as the hills grew rockier. The cheerful chatter dwindled as the terrain shifted, the air turning cooler, heavier. The land here bore less of the farmer’s hand and more of the wild’s bite.

Selene raised her hand. “Not much farther. The beginner’s labyrinth is past that ridge.”

Ludger straightened in his saddle, his pulse quickening. My first labyrinth.

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of red and gold, they reached the ridge. From the top, the land dropped into a shallow valley where the labyrinth waited.

It wasn’t a castle, nor a dungeon built by human hands, but something far older. A yawning stone arch rose from the earth, weathered and jagged as though the mountain itself had cracked open. Dark mist clung to its edges, flowing out like breath from a sleeping beast. Beyond the arch, there was nothing but a black haze, as if the world itself refused to show what lay within.

Ludger slowed his horse, narrowing his eyes. So this is a labyrinth… it feels alive.

What unsettled him more was its placement. The city of Meronia wasn’t far—its rooftops and banners were still visible in the distance. A labyrinth, with its unpredictable monsters and dangers, sitting so close to a major city? It didn’t make sense.

Selene dismounted, her eyes scanning the arch with practiced caution. “Strange, isn’t it? A labyrinth this close to Meronia should’ve been cleared or sealed by now. Leaving it open is asking for trouble.”

Harold shrugged, resting his axe against his shoulder. “Beginner’s labyrinth, they said. Probably why no one cares. Monsters inside are weak, good for training pups like Viola here.”

Viola scowled but said nothing, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as though daring anyone to mock her further.

Cor’s staff tapped against the ground. “Weak or not, the labyrinths don’t simply vanish. They stay until something greater swallows them. Best not to underestimate them, no matter how close to home they sit.”

Ludger glanced once more at the distant city, then at the dark arch yawning open before them. Weird place to put a labyrinth. Almost like it’s watching the city.

The thought lingered as he slid off his horse, tightening his new forearm guards.