Eclaire blinked once. “What things?”
“Something to hide your appearance. Cloaks too.”
He paused only long enough to make the instruction even more specific.
“As long as they’re all the same, it doesn’t matter.”
That was it. No explanation. No elaboration.
Just another pile of work dropped in her direction like he had already decided she belonged inside the plan and saw no point discussing the matter further.
Then he continued toward his home, not once turning around to check whether she was still there.
Within moments, the distance between them grew. His figure moved farther down the road with that same dry, self-contained air he always had, as if conversations were simply things he survived until he could get back to the useful part of life.
Eclaire remained where she was for a second longer, watching him go.
Then a very unpleasant thought settled into her mind. Had he lost his mind after attacking the castle? The idea sounded ridiculous.
Which meant it was dangerous, because ridiculous things around Ludger had a bad habit of becoming real when ignored long enough.
She frowned more deeply.
Had he grown so bold that he was willing to bring her along on a mission tied directly to the Regent? Was he truly ready to move while knowing that if the Regent ever learned of her existence clearly enough, she would become one of the people he would most want erased?
That was not some abstract risk. That was the kind of thing that ended with quiet orders, missing bodies, and names removed from records that officially never existed to begin with.
And yet Ludger had invited her anyway.
Not carefully. Not emotionally. Just... directly. As if the risk was already accounted for and the conclusion remained the same. Eclaire clicked her tongue softly.
She couldn’t tell at all whether that meant he was reckless, confident, insane, or simply so far ahead in his own head that normal people had stopped being able to follow the route.
Probably some awful mixture of all four.
Still, after a few more seconds of staring at the road where he had disappeared, she turned and headed toward Julia’s place. Because whatever else could be said about Ludger, one thing was painfully clear.
If she didn’t move now, he would continue planning without her, and somehow that possibility was even more irritating than the chance that he had, in fact, gone completely insane. By the time Ludger reached home, he had already started sorting through what he needed in his head.
Travel gear first. Then the less obvious things. Tools that didn’t stand out. A few pieces that looked ordinary enough to be ignored and useful enough to matter when things turned ugly, which, if recent experience meant anything, they probably would.
He packed with the kind of efficiency that came from doing too much too often. Nothing dramatic. No wasted movement. Just one item after another disappearing into place while his mind stayed half on the trip ahead and half on the hundred ugly ways it could twist.
That was when Elaine appeared. Not suddenly. She simply entered the room with the quiet certainty of someone who had long since given up pretending not to notice when her son was preparing for something dangerous.
She took one look at the way he was packing and sighed.
“Are you leaving to do something dangerous again?”
Ludger didn’t stop folding the last piece of clothing before placing it into the bag.
“I’m just going to give a hand to the important people of the capital,” he said.
Elaine’s expression did not change.
Ludger added, with a dry tone that made the line even worse, “I can’t disappoint my Emperor after receiving such orders.”
That earned him another sigh. A longer one this time. Not angry. Not even surprised.
Just the sigh of a woman who loved her child very much and had somehow ended up with one who could make blatant danger sound like a tedious errand he had been unfairly assigned.
Elaine stepped a little closer and folded her arms.
“You know,” she said, “when you say things like that, it does not actually make me feel better.”
“Sorry, bad habit.”
“That also does not help.”
Ludger finally looked at her.
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Elaine’s face was calm, but only in the way practiced mothers got calm when they had already worried themselves through the first five stages and were now trying to settle on something useful instead of grabbing their child and locking him in the basement.
“Just be careful,” she said. “And don’t do something too reckless.”
For a moment, Ludger’s expression softened. Only a little. Then he smiled. It was small and real enough to be dangerous in its own way.
“I’ll do my best.”
That should have helped. In theory. Instead, it made everything worse.
Elaine knew him too well by now. “I’ll do my best” from Ludger did not mean “nothing will happen.” It did not even mean “I have a safe plan.” Usually, it meant he had already accepted that something reckless might become necessary and was simply promising to try and be selective about how catastrophic it became.
So rather than easing her worries, the smile and the answer only made them heavier. Elaine’s expression shifted in exactly that direction. Ludger noticed, of course. He just didn’t comment on it.
Because what was he supposed to say? That he would stay far away from danger? That the capital was full of kind honest people who definitely wouldn’t try to ruin each other and everyone around them? That his current job absolutely did not involve chasing fugitives, deceiving imperial authority, and stepping back into a political fire pit that had already tried to bite his face off once?
No.
Lies that stupid would only insult them both. So he simply finished packing while Elaine stood there watching him with the kind of love that made leaving harder than he liked to admit. Not hard enough to stop him. Just hard enough to notice.
When he closed the bag and straightened, Elaine reached out and adjusted part of his clothing with absent familiarity, as if he were still small enough for that to solve something.
It didn’t. But neither of them pulled away from the gesture.
“Come back in one piece,” she said quietly.
Ludger looked at her for a second. Then he gave a short nod.
“That’s the plan.”
Which, unfortunately, sounded just believable enough to be cruel.
Once Ludger finished packing, he didn’t leave immediately.
Instead, he sat down and pulled out paper.
At first glance, what he began drawing looked close to a uniform.
Something for Lionsguard members to wear during missions. Not parade clothes. Not noble nonsense meant to impress people with embroidery and polished trim. Something practical. Cohesive. A look that would make his members feel like they belonged to the same force the moment they put it on.
That alone had value.
Shared appearance helped people bond faster when working together. It built instinctive recognition in motion, reinforced discipline, and made a group feel like an actual unit instead of a pile of individuals temporarily pointing their blades in the same direction.
Still, that wasn’t his real goal. Not this time. The real idea had started the moment he told Eclaire she could come. Once he made that decision, the rest followed naturally.
If he was going to bring people like her, Luna, Viola, or others into missions where identities mattered as much as strength, then they needed something better than simple cloaks and half-baked disguises. They needed a standard field design that concealed who they were without making them look like random amateurs trying too hard to hide.
More importantly, they needed something that let them work, fight, and start trouble without immediately letting enemies know who they were dealing with. That alone could give them an extra edge. Confusion mattered. Delay mattered.
The difference between “someone attacked us” and “Lionsguard attacked us” could shape an entire response.
Ludger’s pen moved steadily across the paper. He started with the silhouette.
Nothing too bulky. Enough layering to break body shape a little, but not enough to ruin movement. A cloak alone was too obvious and too limiting if overused. Better to combine several pieces, outer layer, face coverage, fitted inner gear, neutral lines that didn’t scream one region or guild style too strongly.
He paused and tapped the pen lightly against the page. The hard part was obvious. They had to hide their appearance without connecting the design to his own suit. That would be stupid.
If the field gear looked too close to what he had used in the capital, then eventually someone would start drawing the wrong line in the correct direction. He needed something different enough to stand on its own while still fitting the practical needs of covert operations.
So he adjusted the ideas. Less beast-like edge. Less singular intimidation. More unit utility.
He sketched high collars and layered shoulder cloth meant to distort the outline of the neck and upper body. Masks or lower-face wraps that could be swapped depending on weather and mission. Neutral cloaks cut short enough not to become a liability in close movement. Gloves consistent in appearance, boots similarly standardized. He considered color too.
Nothing bright. Nothing noble. Muted dark tones were obvious, but pure black had its own problems. Too dramatic. Too theatrical. Too easy for frightened people to remember clearly.
So he leaned toward lighter mixed shades instead. Dusty green. Deep gray. Faded earth-dark fabric that could pass through shadow well enough while still looking practical if seen in daylight. Something that worked in stone, dirt, forest, or ruined streets without immediately turning the wearer into a walking flag.
His pen kept moving. A second sketch. Then a third.
He added notes in the margins. Face coverage options. Layered hoods. Fast-release points in case someone got grabbed. Places where light reinforcement could be hidden without ruining flexibility. Space for small insignia on the inside only, where allies could verify one another if needed without giving enemies anything useful to spot.
That part pleased him. An identity hidden outwardly, but still structured inwardly. Very Lionsguard. He leaned back slightly and studied what he had so far. This wasn’t armor for standing on a wall and looking respectable.
For missions where the result mattered more than the public story attached to it. For moments when he wanted his people to strike, withdraw, and leave behind only questions. That had value far beyond this next trip.
The Empire was becoming uglier by the week. The more houses moved in the dark, the less useful open banners would become in certain situations. Lionsguard needed options that matched the world they were growing into, not just the one they had started in.
Ludger finished a few more sketches, clarified the overall lines, and added a short note explaining the intended purpose without saying too much in writing.
Then he gathered the papers together. Julia would understand the rest.
She had a good enough eye to turn rough practical drawings into something that actually worked, and more importantly, she would grasp the intent behind it. This wasn’t about making something flashy. It was about building a reusable operational look for people who might need to disappear while acting as one force.
He sent the sketches off to Julia along with the overall idea for the plan. Then, only after that, did he finally let the papers go and turn back to the rest of what needed doing.
The trip was coming.
And if things went the way he expected, having faces hidden and names uncertain might become just as important as carrying weapons at all.
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