David S.R
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Chapter 194 (Thank you for your support, Frostbound slammer!)
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 21:00:05 +0000 UTCBy the time dawn broke, Ludger’s legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step sent a dull ache through his calves and thighs, but he kept running—steady, rhythmic.
He’d pushed himself through the night without rest, the cold air biting at his lungs, the road nothing but shadows and dust beneath his boots. His endurance had grown plenty from years of training, yet his body still screamed in protest. When the burning pain climbed up his legs, he pressed a hand to his thigh and used Healing Touch.
A faint glow rippled beneath his skin, numbing the ache slightly, but it wasn’t enough. Healing could mend strained muscle fibers—it couldn’t erase exhaustion.
Still, when he finally slowed and pulled out his map, a small grin tugged at his lips. He’d already crossed seventy-five percent of the route. Just a little more and he’d hit the mountains near M, where he could start looking for Gaius.
For a moment, he wondered—if he kept refining his movement, mastering the balance between stamina and speed—would he one day be faster than the wind itself?
The thought amused him, but it slipped away as quickly as it came. He’d been pushing his limits long enough for one night.
Ludger reached out with his mana, letting the ground respond. The soil trembled, reshaping beneath his will as he molded a small shelter out of hardened earth—half-buried, windproof, and silent.
He crawled inside, sealing the entrance behind him, and curled up on the cool ground. His muscles still throbbed, but the heaviness in his eyes won the fight first.
Before long, the world faded into silence, and Ludger drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep beneath the earth he commanded.
When Ludger finally stirred, the air in his earthen shelter was warm and still. A thin beam of sunlight had slipped through one of the cracks above him—it was already midafternoon.
He sat up, wincing as the stiffness settled in his legs and shoulders. His body had cooled off during sleep, leaving that deep, heavy soreness only overexertion could bring.
With a quiet groan, he dug into his pack and pulled out a few dried rations—salted meat, flatbread, and a strip of smoked root. Not exactly gourmet, but it filled his stomach and quieted the ache for now.
Once he’d eaten, he leaned back against the curved wall and started to think.
Finding Gaius wouldn’t be difficult. The old man had long since retired from the world, content to live out his years in the ruins of his abandoned guild—a lonely fortress of stone and silence. Ludger still remembered the layout, the trails leading up the mountain paths, and even where Gaius kept his old training yard.
The real question was what came next.
If Gaius agreed to help, the bridge project would move quickly. If not… well, Ludger would have to improvise. Either way, time was already ticking.
He unrolled his map, tracing the routes with a finger.
By horse, the journey to the coast would take two weeks. Too slow. If he kept to his rhythm—running mostly at night and resting by day—he could reach it in one week. That would leave him with nearly twenty days before Lucius Hakuen’s birthday.
He imagined Viola and the others would travel by carriage, slower but steadier, likely arriving a few days earlier than planned to play the part of honored guests.
That meant Ludger would have roughly ten days of breathing room down south before they caught up—enough to find Gaius, assess the situation, and maybe uncover what was really stopping that bridge from being built.
He smirked faintly at the thought. “Ten days, huh? Plenty of time to ruin someone’s plans.”
Then he stood, brushed the dirt from his coat, and started reshaping the shelter back into the landscape—no trace left behind, just another patch of wind-smoothed ground.
As Ludger started down the dusty trail, he couldn’t help glancing back once thinking of Lionfang in the distance. The thought made his stomach twist—not with fear, but with that quiet sense of responsibility that never really left him.
He just hoped things at the guild stayed manageable. If he was lucky, Arslan and Yvar could keep the routine flowing without him having to return to a mountain of problems stacked high enough to touch the clouds.
But he knew better than to count on luck.
The Lionsguard was still small—barely more than a few dozen core members and a handful of recruits—but their reach had outgrown their size. Between the labyrinth contracts, the trade routes, the Torvares alliance, and the uneasy cooperation with the northerners, their name carried weight far beyond their numbers.
That kind of influence was both a blessing and a curse.
Every success drew more attention. More politics. More enemies pretending to be allies. Ludger had seen it happen before—guilds that rose too fast and collapsed under their own fame. He didn’t want Lionsguard to end up the same way.
He sighed, rubbing his temple as he walked. “Too many plates spinning,” he muttered. “And I’m the idiot trying to keep them all from falling.”
Still, he couldn’t slow down now. The guild needed direction, and if he had to shoulder the weight to keep it moving forward, so be it. The merits of their growth—the security, the respect, the stability they’d built—were worth it.
That much was as clear as day.
When night fell, Ludger began to move again. The air was colder now, the kind that sharpened the senses and bit through cloth, but he didn’t slow down. His boots whispered over the dirt as he ran through the dark, steady and silent, keeping to the empty paths that cut through the wild plains.
By midnight, the faint glimmer of Meira appeared in the distance—a scatter of lights surrounded by the jagged outline of its old walls. He slowed to a jog, keeping low. While he wasn’t being searched for here, there was no reason to advertise his presence either.
He scanned the walls, watching the torchlight patrols. The western side had fewer guards, just two men posted by a half-collapsed watchtower. That would do.
Ludger pressed a hand against the earth. The soil trembled and shifted, forming small, precise footholds as he climbed with ease. The climb was silent, and easy. When he reached the top, he crouched low, scanning for movement. Nothing but the wind.
He vaulted down the other side, landing without a sound. The instant his boots touched the ground, his Seismic Sense flared outward—a ripple of awareness spreading through the soil. He felt the soft tremors of distant footsteps, the shifting rhythm of carts, the subtle vibrations of water through pipes. Every heartbeat around him painted a map in his mind.
With that, he weaved through the narrow alleys and abandoned streets, moving like a shadow. His destination was clear—Gaius’ old guild hall, the place where his teacher had chosen to bury himself after retiring from the world.
The same stubborn man who once told him, “If you can’t build the earth right, then bury it until it listens.”
Ludger smirked faintly at the memory as he disappeared deeper into the silent heart of Meira.
Reaching the guild was easier than Ludger expected. Most of Meira was quiet—half-empty streets, shuttered houses, and wind blowing through broken windows.
The old guild hall stood where he remembered—stone walls, reinforced doors, and that same carved emblem above the entrance: Stone Will, Never Bend. It looked solid, untouched by time.
“Wait, it wasn’t here before…”
But as Ludger approached, his frown deepened. He extended his Seismic Sense again, letting the vibrations run through the floorboards and the ground beneath. Nothing. No movement inside, no heartbeat, not even the faint shuffle of someone asleep.
“Great,” he muttered. “Either he’s dead asleep while erasing his presence or drinking somewhere.”
The second option was worse—if Gaius had finally decided to start bar-hopping, it meant Ludger would have to wait, and waiting wasn’t something he enjoyed.
He pushed the new door open and stepped inside. The hinges groaned but held firm. Dust motes drifted through the faint light from the windows, but the interior was surprisingly tidy. Tables aligned, floors swept clean.
Ludger ran a gloved hand over one of the tables, finding only a thin layer of dust. “Still keeping it spotless, huh…” he muttered.
It had been two years since he last set foot here. Two years since he, Viola, and Luna had left this place. Judging by how well-kept everything was, the old man still maintained it regularly—or had, until very recently.
Ludger let out a quiet sigh, dropped his pack by the doorway, and looked around the empty hall.
“Well, old man,” he said under his breath, “guess I’ll wait a bit. But if you’re off getting drunk somewhere, I’m adding that to the lecture when I find you.”
Hours crawled by with nothing but silence to keep him company. The guild hall stayed still—no footsteps, no noise, no sign of Gaius. By the time pale light began to creep through the high windows, Ludger’s patience was starting to fray.
He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “This is starting to look bad.”
Changing plans, he swapped into simpler clothes and tucked his green scarf deep inside his pack. No need to draw attention. Pulling his hood low, he stepped outside into the waking town.
The streets of Meira were already stirring—merchants dragging out their carts, setting up stands with half-lidded eyes and sluggish hands. The smell of stale ale and baked grain hung in the air.
Ludger drifted toward a small group of traders near the central square, their breath fogging in the morning chill. He waited until they started arranging their wares before speaking.
“Excuse me,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’m looking for Gaius Stonefist.”
The merchants turned, squinting under the hood’s shadow. He could tell they were trying to place him—something familiar about the tone or the way he stood—but the hood hid too much. All they could tell was that he was a child.
One of them, a grizzled man with frost on his beard, finally spoke. “Stonefist, eh? He left about a week ago. Didn’t say much, just packed up and went north.”
Another added, “He does that now and then. Always comes back, though. Usually every two weeks or so. Guess he’s due back soon.”
Ludger frowned beneath the hood. A week gone… That meant he could return any day—or not at all, depending on what he’d walked into.
He thanked them with a polite nod, then turned away, his mind already working through the possibilities.
“Gone again, huh…” he muttered under his breath. “Figures the one time I need him, he’s out wandering.”
Still, at least he had a lead. If Gaius was gone for a week north, then his trail wouldn’t be too cold. Ludger pulled his hood lower and started planning his next move.
Ludger leaned against a cracked wall near the empty market square, watching a pair of crows fight over stale bread. His mind was already three steps ahead, running through options, weighing risks and time like stones on a scale.
He had three choices—and none of them good.
Stay and wait for Gaius. It was the safest route. If the old man returned within a few days, things would fall neatly into place. Gaius was a legend with stone and mana, and if anyone could turn a sea bridge from fantasy into structure, it was him. Waiting meant less risk, fewer eyes, and time to rest his legs and refine his rune work.
But every hour spent here was an hour lost down south. If Gaius had wandered far, Ludger could waste a week doing nothing but watching dust gather. And if the man didn’t come back soon… the window before Viola’s trip would slam shut.
Go after him. Ludger could track Gaius down—follow the trail north and probably find him meditating in some canyon or yelling at rocks again. The man wasn’t hard to find if you knew how to listen to the earth. It would give Ludger an answer fast, maybe even some insight into why the old man left in the first place.
Still, it wasn’t without risk. A week’s trail could stretch into nowhere, and chasing ghosts wasn’t exactly efficient. Worse, asking too many questions might draw attention he didn’t need. If someone realized a vice guildmaster from Lionsguard was in town, word could spread to the south before he ever reached it.
Leave and handle the bridge alone. The most reckless option—so naturally, the one that made his pulse quicken. He could head south immediately, scout the coast, see what was stalling the project. Even if he couldn’t build it himself, he could at least identify the problem. That would put the Lionsguard ahead of the game.
The downside? Everything else. He’d be walking into the Hakuen family’s territory with no allies, no backup, and a job that would eat months or years if things went wrong. And they would go wrong.
He exhaled slowly, watching his breath mist in the cold. Each plan had its own kind of poison—one slow, one uncertain, one loud.
Still… if he gave himself three days here, it wouldn’t hurt. If Gaius didn’t return by then, Ludger would leave a message behind and head south alone. That was the safest option.
He adjusted his hood and pushed off the wall, muttering, “Three days. That’s all you get, old man. Actually, why am I talking like I am doing you a favor?”
Then he disappeared back into the sleeping streets of Meira, already counting the hours.
Comments
dkpfrog
Tftc!
