David S.R
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Chapter 82 (Thank you for your support, Maxwell Guy!)
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 15:14:58 +0000 UTCThey reached home the next day, the walls rising steady and familiar after days of smoke and ruin. Viola, still stiff from their spar and with bruises she didn’t want her grandfather to see, chose to return with Ludger instead of heading straight for her own home. Pride could wait—comfort couldn’t.
The moment they stepped through the doors, Elaine was there. Her eyes locked on Ludger, and before he could take a single step, she swept him into her arms.
“Ludger!”
Her aura flared like a storm as she crushed him to her chest. His ribs creaked, air exploding from his lungs. He struggled, clawing at her arms, but it was useless—she squeezed tighter, as if trying to fuse him into herself.
“Can’t—breathe—” he wheezed, vision spotting.
It was absurd. He’d just survived a battlefield, leveled faster than ever, grown stronger than most grown men—and yet here, in his mother’s arms, it felt like none of that mattered. Her bear hug had some kind of anti-System effect, bypassing his stats and crushing him on sheer maternal instinct alone.
This is insane… Did she actually get stronger than me somehow?
Elaine finally loosened her grip, though not by much, her eyes sharp with worry. She scanned him from head to toe, as if expecting to find a dozen missing limbs. “You’re thinner! And your eyes look tired! Did you eat? Did you sleep? What wa I thinking sending you there—”
Ludger gasped for air, glaring up at her. “You’re… going to kill me faster than the barbarians ever could…”
But Elaine only pulled him close again, muttering under her breath, “Never. Never.”
Viola stood a few steps away, her lips twitching between sympathy and outright laughter, while Luna looked on, expression perfectly neutral—as though none of this surprised her in the least.
Elaine finally released Ludger just enough for him to breathe, though her hands still clung to his shoulders like iron clamps. Then her gaze flicked past him to Viola.
“You too,” she said, her voice thick but sharp, and before Viola could take a step back, Elaine swept her into the same crushing embrace.
“Wha—wait—!” Viola squeaked, but it was too late.
Her ribs groaned, her breath caught, and her eyes bulged as Elaine’s arms closed around her like a vice. She had laughed at Ludger moments ago, but the grin vanished instantly as her face turned red.
“M-Mercy—!”
Ludger leaned against the wall, rubbing his aching ribs with a smug smirk. “Told you.”
Viola shot him a glare over Elaine’s shoulder, but she couldn’t say a word. Elaine only squeezed harder, muttering fiercely, “You reckless children… you’re both home, and that’s all that matters.”
The bear hug might have broken them, but it had one mercy: it drowned out Viola’s complaints, smothered Ludger’s sarcastic remarks, and turned Elaine’s wrath into relief. For once, she wasn’t angry. She was just happy. And for all the pain in their ribs, neither of them had the heart to fight that.
After the meal—one of Elaine’s, hearty enough to flatten even Viola’s complaints—Luna quietly slipped back into her usual role at her side. She resumed her duties with seamless precision, tidying the house, and shadowing Elaine as though the war had been nothing but a pause in her service.
Elaine, calmer now, returned to the tavern. She muttered about barrels, ledgers, and customers who would “ruin the place if she left them unsupervised another day,” her motherly storm replaced with the fierce focus of a businesswoman.
That left Ludger free. He wandered into the backyard, the grass still damp from the morning dew. The familiar fence, the worn training posts, the scent of soil—it was a world apart from the smoke and screams of the battlefield. He sat against the old tree, arms resting on his knees, and let his thoughts unfold.
Until Lord Torvares gave him that letter of recommendation, there was no point rushing toward earth mages. That would take time, negotiation, and the kind of weight only his grandfather could bring.
So what now?
His answer came quickly: businesses. The war had taught him that strength wasn’t enough. Coin and influence mattered just as much. His cooking skills, his knack for crafting, the ideas that had carried him before—they weren’t just side projects. They were weapons, if sharpened right.
Focus on the businesses for now. Build coin, build leverage. By the time I get that letter, I’ll be in a position to do more than just ask questions.
The thought steadied him. He wasn’t wasting time; he was preparing.
Ludger had just begun to piece together a rough outline of his plans when the back gate creaked. Viola slipped through, practice sword in hand, her steps light but her eyes sharp.
“You again?” Ludger muttered, not moving from his spot beneath the tree. “Didn’t we already do this on the road?”
Viola smirked, though her grip on the hilt was tight. “That was just a warm-up. You didn’t even try. This time I’ll push you for real.”
He sighed, but rose anyway, rolling his shoulders. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The spar started slow, her swings deliberate, her breathing steadier than before. But Ludger’s pace was relentless; he blocked, sidestepped, and parried as though reading her every move. The gap between them was clearer now than ever.
After half an hour, Viola’s arms trembled with every strike. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead, and when her legs finally gave out, she dropped to one knee, panting hard.
“Dammit…” she hissed, her voice muffled by exhaustion.
Ludger lowered his guard, breathing evenly. He didn’t look smug, didn’t tease her like he usually would. He simply stood there, waiting for her to get back up—or not. Viola leaned on her sword for balance, her sharp eyes flicking up at him. “You’ve been… different lately.”
Ludger raised a brow. “Different how?”
“You’re always thinking. More than usual. Like your head’s somewhere else all the time.” She swallowed, her breath still ragged. “What are you so lost in thought about, huh?”
Her words weren’t mocking. They carried weight, curiosity edged with something almost like concern. For once, Viola wasn’t just his rival. She was his sister, trying to see what was happening behind the walls he kept up.
Ludger smirked faintly at Viola’s question and shook his head. “Lost in thought? I’m just bored. Someone has to keep themselves entertained while you swing a stick around.”
Viola’s eyebrows twitched, but she didn’t bite back. She was too winded, too drained from the spar. Instead, she just frowned, lips tight, and let the silence hang between them.
On the surface, Ludger’s tone was casual, even mocking. But inside, he felt the edge of her words pressing at him. She had noticed—noticed the way he’d been sharper, quieter, always staring at things with his mind racing behind his eyes. And she wasn’t wrong. He had been thinking too much, planning too much.
Still, what was he supposed to say? I’m scheming businesses, connections, and influence to avoid drowning in politics. To an eleven-year-old? No. That wasn’t her burden. It would feel like relying on her, and Ludger hated the idea of leaning on anyone—even her. Especially her.
But as he watched her kneeling in the dirt, shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath, gripping her practice sword so tight her knuckles whitened, a different thought cut through him.
One day, it will be her burden.
Viola wasn’t just his sparring partner, or his sister who always demanded more from herself. She was the sole heir of the Torvares family. The weight of land, soldiers, politics—all of it would fall squarely on her shoulders, no matter how hard she trained with her sword. Even if she proved herself in battle, the real fights would be the kind waged in courts, behind closed doors, in whispers and signatures that could cripple armies without drawing a blade.
Ludger clenched his jaw. He wasn’t ready to share his own path, his own goals. But whether she realized it or not, Viola would have to walk a path just as heavy, maybe heavier.
For a heartbeat, he almost told her. Almost gave her a glimpse of the weight pressing at his own chest. But the words never came.
Instead, he stepped past her and spoke flatly, “Rest. You won’t get stronger by breaking yourself in one go.”
Viola muttered something, annoyed, but didn’t argue. She lowered herself onto the grass, sword across her lap, chest still heaving.
Ludger sat back under the tree, eyes on the sky, his thoughts circling tighter. Not yet. She doesn’t need to hear it yet. But sooner or later… she’ll have to.
The thought wasn’t comforting. It was inevitable.
Later that evening, once Viola had finally collapsed into bed after pushing herself too far again, Ludger slipped out into the hall. He found Luna in her usual place, quietly polishing a short blade at the corner of the kitchen table. Her posture was straight, her movements efficient, her eyes calm as ever.
“Got a minute?” Ludger asked.
She didn’t look up, only kept moving the cloth along the steel. “If it’s about another spar, I’ll pass.”
Ludger smirked faintly. “Not for me. For her.”
That got her attention. Luna set the blade down and studied him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She wasn’t surprised—nothing ever seemed to catch her off guard—but there was a sharpness there, as if she were measuring him.
“You mean Viola.”
“Yeah.” Ludger leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “She’s obsessed with getting stronger, proving herself. That’s fine on the battlefield. But she’s Torvares’s heir. No matter how sharp her sword gets, sooner or later she’ll have to deal with the other side of things. Politics. Diplomacy. Command.”
He paused, frowning. “I was wondering how to… prepare her for that. Without her noticing.”
For a moment, Luna said nothing. She just watched him with that calm, piercing stare of hers, as if dissecting him piece by piece. Then she spoke, her voice low and even.
“You’re eight years old,” she said. “And you’re thinking about teaching the next heir how to handle politics.”
Ludger shrugged, unbothered. “Someone has to, I am not willing to do that, I am not interested in politics either. I am just bringing the topic to you.”
Luna’s lips pressed into the faintest line, like she wasn’t sure whether to scold him or respect him. Finally, she shook her head slowly.
“You weren’t supposed to be wondering about things like this either.”
Luna leaned back slightly, folding her arms now instead of returning to her blade. Her eyes flicked toward the hallway where Viola slept, then back to Ludger. For a long moment, she seemed to weigh whether to speak at all.
Finally, she exhaled softly through her nose. “Viola has strengths. More than she realizes. She thinks with her feet, reacts fast, adapts when others would freeze. That makes her dangerous with a sword—and it could make her dangerous in command. She doesn’t choke under pressure.”
Ludger tilted his head, listening.
“But…” Luna’s tone sharpened. “She’s impatient. Reckless. Too proud to ask for help until it’s too late. That’s not just a flaw in battle—it’s poison in politics. Nobles will bait her, test her, and she’ll rush into their traps without even realizing it.”
She paused, her gaze steady. “Her biggest weakness is that she believes strength alone will make people listen. But strength only wins battles. Words, coin, and alliances decide the rest.”
Ludger’s jaw tightened. Exactly what I was thinking.
“She’ll learn eventually,” Luna added. “But if you’re serious about preparing her, don’t push her head-on. She won’t accept lectures. She has to think it’s her idea. Nudge her. Give her problems she can’t solve with a blade. Make her stumble, then let her figure out why.”
Ludger smirked faintly. “So, trick her into learning?”
Luna didn’t flinch. “If that’s what it takes.”
For a second, they just stared at each other—the boy far too young for the weight of his thoughts, and the maid far too sharp to be only what she claimed.
Ludger pushed off the wall, arms still crossed. “Sounds like a plan.”
Luna gave the faintest shrug, then picked her blade back up, polishing as if the conversation had never happened.
Ludger didn’t leave right away. He lingered by the doorframe, his arms crossed, his eyes half-shadowed by the dim light of the room.
“One more thing,” he said.
Luna paused mid-stroke, the cloth on her blade stilled.
“I want to make more money. Not just for myself—coin’s leverage. Influence. If I’m going to move pieces in the city, I need it.”
For the first time that evening, Luna blinked. She studied him quietly, her expression unreadable, but her silence stretched long enough to feel heavy. Finally, she set the blade down and laced her fingers together, resting her hands on her lap.
“You’re already gaining influence,” she said. “You’ve built goodwill with the healing. And the way you slip coin or treatment to those who can’t pay? Word spreads. People remember that kind of thing. They talk. They owe you.”
Ludger tilted his head slightly. “And if I want to make it more efficient?”
Luna closed her eyes for a second, as if weighing whether she should even say more. When she opened them again, they were sharp.
“There are things you could do. Expand your cooking into something larger than a tavern. Supply caravans. Train assistants so your healing isn’t limited to your own hands. Turn goodwill into loyalty, and loyalty into coin.”
She leaned forward just slightly, her voice low. “But be careful. Influence comes with eyes. The more you grow, the more attention you’ll draw—from rivals, from nobles, from those who don’t want another player on the board.”
Ludger smirked faintly, but his eyes gleamed. “Then I’ll just have to play smarter.”
Luna studied him in silence again, as though she still couldn’t decide whether to scold him for thinking so far ahead… or acknowledge that he was already right.
Luna’s eyes lingered on him, sharper now. “If you truly want to grow influence in this city… the first wall you’ll hit won’t be nobles. It’ll be your mother.”
Ludger blinked once, then huffed a short laugh. “Yeah. Figures.”
“She’ll try to shield you from it all. She’ll strangle your moves before they can sprout. Out of love, yes… but also out of fear. Elaine’s protection is iron. Breaking through it will be harder than convincing lords or merchants.”
For a moment, Ludger leaned his head back against the wall, as if weighing her words. But then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk—sharp, playful, dangerous in its own quiet way.
It wasn’t the grin of a boy humoring an adult. It was the grin of someone who’d just found a game worth playing. Luna’s eyes narrowed. She knew that expression. “You’re planning something.”
“Maybe,” Ludger said, voice light, almost sing-song.
“That smirk,” she muttered, exhaling through her nose. “Every time you wear it, trouble follows.”
Ludger didn’t deny it. He just held her gaze, his grin lingering as his mind already began to sketch moves and counter-moves. If Elaine was going to be his biggest obstacle, then he’d simply treat her like any other opponent—one to outmaneuver.
Only this time, the game wasn’t fought with swords or spells. It would be a battle of patience, of subtle moves behind the curtains. And for the first time in days, Ludger felt genuinely amused.
