Ludger let the silence hang for a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose. His smirk didn’t come this time—only a steady, level gaze as he answered.

“Fine. If she runs off to do something stupid, I’ll be there to drag her back in one piece. You have my word.”

Elaine’s shoulders sagged, the tension easing just slightly in her chest. She closed her eyes, relief trembling faintly across her lips. But before she could speak, Ludger went on.

“But you’re not going to sit here helpless either.”

Her eyes opened again, wary.

“You’ve got the tavern. Use the coin it’s bringing in. Hire mercenaries to guard the house and the tavern both. Only the ones Father trusts, and the regulars you’ve seen pass through often enough to know they’re not rats. No strangers, no new faces with smiles too wide. If we’re going to be gone, you won’t be alone.”

Elaine blinked, taken aback. She was used to his sharp tongue, his sarcasm—but this was different. This was Ludger giving orders, calm and precise, like someone four times his age.

For a moment she almost smiled, but the heaviness in her eyes didn’t vanish. “You sound like your mother,” she whispered, brushing her fingers against his arm.

Ludger didn’t flinch, though his smirk returned faintly, dry and cutting. “Then maybe you should listen.”

Elaine’s hand lingered for just a moment longer before she stood, smoothing her dress with trembling fingers. “Very well. I’ll do it. For all of us.”

When the door closed behind her, Ludger sat back, staring at the faint glow of the lamplight. One mess at a time. If Viola’s bound to leap, I’ll be there. But this house? This house won’t fall while I’m gone.

Breakfast was quiet the next morning. Elaine fussed over bread and porridge at the table, her smile stretched thin but determined. Viola sat across from Ludger, her spoon untouched, eyes flicking up at him every few moments like she wanted to say something but hadn’t decided how.

Finally, she leaned forward, voice low. “We can’t just sit here. If the border’s collapsing and the labyrinth’s being left alone, then we need to do something. We should go—”

“You’re right,” Ludger cut her off, his tone flat but sharp. He set down his spoon and met her eyes evenly. “We’ll leave tonight. And we’ll make sure no one sees us leave the city.”

The clatter of a spoon dropping echoed in the quiet room. Viola froze, her mouth half-open, surprised that he hadn’t argued, hadn’t tried to stop her—just decided.

Luna, standing silently near the window with her hands folded neatly, turned her head at once. Her expression didn’t change, but her silver eyes widened ever so slightly.

Neither of them spoke.

Ludger smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair. “If you’ve already made up your mind to go charging into a storm, then fine. But we’ll do it the right way. Quiet, clean, unseen. No one follows, no one notices.”

Viola’s lips pressed tight, and for once, she didn’t argue. She only nodded once, sharp and determined, though her fingers trembled slightly as she clenched them around her spoon.

Luna lowered her gaze, accepting the decision in silence. Elaine, slightly oblivious to the exchange, continued humming faintly as she placed more bread on the table.

The day dragged on in silence, every tick of the clock stretching longer than it should. Elaine went about her tavern work, humming faintly to herself as if clinging to the routine. Viola sharpened her sword again and again, the scrape of the whetstone constant. Luna lingered nearby as always, her posture calm but her gaze sharper than usual, watching both siblings like a hawk.

Ludger spent the hours pacing the house, tightening the straps on his gauntlets, checking the weight in his boots, making sure his mana control was sharp enough to cover their exit if needed. But his mind kept drifting back to the house, to Elaine, to the stillness that would be left behind when they slipped out into the night.

I should’ve made more allies by now.

Not the kind you used for business, not tavern regulars you could buy with bread and coin, but real allies. People who could stand guard over Elaine when he wasn’t here, who wouldn’t crumble if the wrong sort of trouble came knocking.

He smirked bitterly to himself. I’m going, because I know I have to. But all I can think about is how fast I can get it done and get back before the worry eats me alive.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

She smothers me like a hawk watching her only chick. And here I am, turning into the same thing—hovering over her in my head even when I’m the one sneaking out.

The thought made him snort softly, shaking his head. “A helicopter son for my helicopter mother. Great. That’s my future.”

Still, he couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. He wasn’t running off for glory like Viola, and he wasn’t following orders like Luna. He was doing what was necessary—but he wanted it over fast. In and out. Back before Elaine even realized how far her son had wandered.

When the evening shadows finally stretched long across the estate, Ludger’s fists were already clenched, his resolve sharpened. We leave, we finish, we return. No mistakes.

Night settled over the house, quiet and heavy. The lamps in the hall burned low, throwing long shadows across the walls. Elaine had already retired early, exhausted from a day of managing both the house and the tavern. Her door was closed, her humming silenced at last.

Ludger stood in his room, lacing his boots, gauntlets already strapped on. His pack was light—too light for a real journey. That was the point. In and out. Back before she even notices.

A soft knock came at his door. Luna slipped inside without waiting, as silent as ever, already dressed for travel, a knife sheathed at her thigh. Viola followed a moment later, her wooden practice sword replaced by a steel blade that gleamed faintly in the lamplight.

They didn’t speak. The silence carried everything—anticipation, nerves, and the weight of what they were about to do.

Before they moved, Ludger turned his head, glancing down the hall toward Elaine’s door. For a moment, he thought about stepping over, about saying something. A joke, a promise, anything.

But that would defeat the whole point.

He smirked faintly to himself, shaking off the thought. Better she sleeps through the night, none the wiser. The worry would eat her alive if she knew.

Turning back to Viola and Luna, he gave a small nod. “Ready?”

Viola grinned, reckless fire flashing in her eyes. Luna gave a calm, almost imperceptible dip of her head.

“Then let’s go,” Ludger whispered.

The three of them slipped out the back, shadows swallowing their forms as Silent Steps dulled their movements. The estate behind them stayed quiet, Elaine’s lamp still glowing faintly behind her closed door, unaware of the children who had just vanished into the night.

The city slept above, but Luna didn’t head toward the gates. Instead, she tugged at a rusted iron grate tucked behind an old storage shed near the back alleys. With a grunt and a flash of triumph in her eyes, she pulled it free.

Ludger raised a brow. “Really? The sewers?”

Luna smirked, lifting a small torch she’d hidden beneath her cloak. With a spark of flint, the flame flickered to life, painting her grin in orange light. “You think I’d just walk out the gate like some rookie runaway? Please. We used this path before, remember?”

Ludger’s memory flicked back to the night they dragged bodies into the underground, the stench, the quiet fire that erased the evidence. “Of course you’d pick the place that smells like piss and rot,” Ludger muttered dryly, stepping in after her.

Viola followed last, her silver eyes gleaming faintly in the torchlight.

The air was damp and heavy, every step echoing softly against the slick stone. Luna walked at the front, torch raised high, moving with unsettling confidence. The light flickered over old markings scratched into the walls, and Ludger realized she’d been here more than once.

She turned down corridors without hesitation, boots splashing lightly in the shallow muck. “This way. I know which tunnels lead straight outside the city. No guards, no curious eyes. Just us.”

Ludger narrowed his eyes at her back. She’s been planning this for a while. Knows the path like the back of her hand. Figures. Once she gets an idea in her head, she never lets go.

He smirked faintly despite himself, though his gaze stayed sharp on the shadows that stretched just beyond the torchlight. At least she’s reckless with a plan this time. That’s progress.

The tunnels twisted and narrowed, the torchlight stretching shadows across damp walls. Viola’s steps were confident, splashing lightly through shallow water, but Ludger noticed it first—the faint scuff marks along the stone, newer than they should’ve been.

“Hold up,” he muttered, lifting a hand.

Viola shot him a look over her shoulder, torch wobbling. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of rats.”

Ludger crouched, running his fingers over the marks. Boot prints. Not old ones either. Heavy, deliberate, like someone had been moving cargo through here. He rubbed the grime between his fingertips, frowning.

“These aren’t from us. Someone else has been down here. Recently.”

Luna stepped closer, her silver eyes narrowing in the dim light. She didn’t speak at first, only studied the floor and the wall. A small groove ran along the stone, the kind made by something dragged repeatedly in the same spot. Finally, her voice was low and even.

“Not rats. People. More than a few. These tunnels aren’t as abandoned as we think.”

Viola’s grin faltered, her brow furrowing. “...You saying someone’s stealing your route?”

Ludger smirked faintly, though it was edged with steel. “No, I’m saying we might not be alone down here. And if they’re using this path, it’s for the same reason we are—getting in or out unseen.”

The torchlight flickered as a draft of cold air whispered through the corridor. Somewhere deeper in the tunnels, a faint clink echoed—metal on stone, deliberate, then gone. The three of them froze.

Luna’s hand drifted subtly toward the wicked knife hidden beneath her skirt. Viola raised the torch higher, her fire returning to her eyes. Ludger clenched his fists, gauntlets tightening against his skin, his smirk curling back.

“Guess the sewers aren’t just for piss and poop after all.”

The sound of metal on stone faded into silence, leaving only the drip of water and the shuffle of their own boots. Viola gripped the torch tighter, her reckless grin replaced by a tight frown. Luna’s posture shifted subtly, her steps lighter, knife hidden but ready. Ludger’s fists clenched, armguards humming faintly as he held his breath.

For the next stretch, none of them spoke. They raised their guard, every sense sharpened. Ludger let Silent Steps guide his footing, each movement deliberate, while Luna drifted along the wall like a shadow. Viola stayed at the back but kept the torch lower now, flame throwing narrower light.

Every turn of the tunnel felt heavier, like eyes lingered just beyond the dark. But nothing came.

No footsteps behind them. No whispers in the muck. No steel scraping stone.

Just the endless damp air and the occasional squeak of rats scurrying away from the light.

By the time they reached a wider chamber where three tunnels split, Viola stopped and turned, her expression pinched. “Nothing. Whoever it was, they’re gone.”

“Or watching from further ahead,” Ludger muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the walls. “Either way, they’re keeping their distance.”

Luna’s voice was quiet, measured. “Which means they didn’t want to be found. Same as us.”

The three of them exchanged a glance, none of them relaxing their stance. The tension didn’t fade—it only sank deeper, curling in their stomachs.

Ludger smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed sharp. Fine. If someone else is down here, let them keep hiding. Just means they don’t want a fight.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said flatly. “If they’re smart, we’ll never see them again.”

But the thought lingered in the back of his mind as they pressed on: If they’re smart.

At last, the tunnels spat them out through a half-buried grate in the outskirts, the damp stink of the sewers replaced by the sharp chill of the night air. The city’s lights burned faint behind them, dim lanterns bobbing on the walls like distant fireflies.

Viola kicked the grate closed with a satisfied grin. “I guess it worked.”

Ludger didn’t answer. His eyes swept the fields around them, ears straining for anything but the wind. Nothing. Just the hush of grass brushing under the moonlight. For now, they were ghosts.

It would’ve been easier with horses—faster, less strain on the legs—but horses clopped and snorted and drew attention. They didn’t have that luxury. Traveling light meant relying on their bodies alone.

“Move,” Ludger muttered, and they did.

Luna slipped to the front without a word, her silhouette melting into the darkness as if she were part of it. Her pace was steady, quick but never reckless, feet brushing through the grass with barely a sound. She didn’t hesitate once, even in the open field, as if she carried the lay of the land burned into her bones.

Viola ran close behind, torch long extinguished, her breath sharp but even. The fire in her eyes had only grown since breakfast—reckless, determined, hungry for what lay ahead.

Ludger followed, his strides controlled, letting Quickstride and Silent Steps flow through his body until his movement was almost second nature. The night air was cold, stinging against his sweat, but it cleared his head. Every step was a distance gained, every breath taken away from the safety of home.

The three of them cut across the plains like shadows, nothing but the rhythm of their breaths and the steady pull of the horizon guiding them.

But his mind refused to stay quiet.

What are we doing? Three kids slipping into a storm that’s choking the border. What can we actually do to end a war like this?

He smirked faintly through clenched teeth. The thought was ridiculous. Wars weren’t stopped by fists and quick tricks. They were ground down by numbers, coin, supply lines, politics. By decisions made in gilded halls by men and women who never dirtied their boots.

And yet here they were—three children running across the plains, chasing the shadow of a labyrinth feeding their enemies, chasing the idea of doing something.

What could we even achieve? Kill a few barbarians? Cut down some shamans? Sneak through their lines and sabotage whatever keeps them going?

He frowned as he ran, lungs burning in the cold air. The questions were heavy, the answers heavier. The truth was simple: they weren’t soldiers. They weren’t commanders. They were three reckless brats slipping away from their beds in the dead of night.

But the war wasn’t waiting.

If there’s anything we can do, it has to cut deep. Something to tip the balance, something only people like us could pull off. Otherwise… this is just suicide dressed as adventure.

The thought sat in his chest like a stone, each step pounding it deeper. It was a tough question, one he couldn’t answer—not yet.

Still, his smirk flickered back, thin but sharp. If no one else is going to fix it, then I’ll find the answer myself. Even if I have to carve it out of the labyrinth’s heart.

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