Eclaire crossed her arms beneath the cloak and looked around the empty stretch of road.
“So?”
Ludger didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he reached into the carriage, took out a map, and unfolded it in the fading light. The others gathered closer while he checked the area with practiced speed, tracing the section of road, the nearby terrain, and the points that could still matter after a trail went dead.
His finger moved slowly across the parchment. Road. Fields. Sparse woods. A few minor routes. Then the obvious answer.
“Only a few small villages,” he said.
Jennifer leaned in slightly. “That’s all?”
Ludger nodded once. This area of the Empire was too rural. That was the problem.
No large trade node. No noble holding of real weight. No fortified estate worth noting. No guild outpost big enough to hide a half-dead fugitive line. No old political center where the Dalmorens or Gustav’s people should have had obvious influence.
Just scattered settlements and plain land.
Rowan frowned. “That doesn’t fit.”
“No,” Ludger said. “It doesn’t.”
Because there were no meaningful connections here. Nothing tying the people of this region clearly to the Dalmoren family or to Gustav’s line. No reason for a desperate extraction force to aim here if they were relying only on familiar protection or direct allies.
Which meant one of two things.
Either the map was telling a lie by omission and someone had hidden support here better than they should have...
Or this wasn’t the final destination at all. Eclaire’s eyes moved from the map to the darkening land beyond the road.
“So they either passed through after cleaning themselves up... or someone helped them vanish in a place that shouldn’t matter.”
“Yes.”
Ludger folded the map halfway, still thinking. The villages bothered him more than the road. Because if the trail had been intentionally erased in this kind of region, then the next useful answers were not likely to be found in wilderness first.
They were likely to be found among ordinary people.
And ordinary people, in places like this, noticed more than outsiders gave them credit for. Strange groups, unusual horses, unexpected supplies bought in haste, hidden wounded, travelers who looked too rich, too broken, or too nervous to belong on a simple rural road, those things lingered in memory.
Jennifer looked at the nearest marked settlement on the map.
“You think they passed through one of them?”
Ludger’s gaze remained on the parchment.
“I think,” he said, “that if a trail disappears in a place that should be useless, then the useless place is probably the point.”
The day’s search had ended.
The scent had failed him. Which was irritating. But the silence left behind was saying something too. And Ludger had no intention of leaving until he found out what it was.
Eclaire looked out into the darkening countryside for a moment before asking, “Are you sure they haven’t already left the Empire?”
Ludger folded the map once more, though he didn’t put it away yet.
“They wouldn’t leave so soon.”
Eclaire’s eyes narrowed slightly behind the mask. “Why not?”
“Because too many of them were half-dead.”
His answer came without hesitation.
“The prisoners weren’t in condition for a long escape. Not really.” He tapped a finger lightly against the map while speaking, his thoughts already sorting the physical reality of it. “They were tortured, drugged, drained, malnourished, and some of them could barely stand. Children were involved too. Moving them out of the capital was one thing. Forcing them through a sustained cross-border flight immediately after that is something else.”
Rowan gave a small nod. That made sense. Ludger continued.
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“They might survive a short extraction if the route is prepared well enough. Hidden transfers, rest points, decent carriages, support waiting ahead. But a long trip in that condition would risk killing some of them.”
Jennifer folded her arms. “And if they tried anyway?”
“Their speed would collapse.”
That was the uglier practical truth.
Even if the Dalmorens had been desperate enough to force the issue, the bodies they were trying to save would turn desperation into drag very quickly. Wounded adults could be carried only so far before carriage space ran out and escorts started losing tempo. Children could not simply be pushed through like trained soldiers. Prisoners with deep injuries, blood loss, or lingering drug effects became liabilities in motion whether anyone liked it or not.
“A group like that doesn’t move well for long,” Ludger said. “Not unless they stop being a rescue and start becoming a disposal problem.”
That quieted things again. Because everyone in the carriage understood what he meant.
A noble family might be willing to risk much to extract their own, but if too many rescued prisoners became a burden on the move, then ugly decisions followed. Some groups could make those decisions. Some would even call them necessary.
Ludger’s expression remained flat.
“The Dalmorens might be ruthless enough in some ways,” he said, “but if they wanted those people alive for answers, leverage, or loyalty, then they had to stabilize them first. That takes time. Shelter. Support.”
Which meant staying inside the Empire longer than was comfortable.
Annoying for them. Useful for him.
Eclaire exhaled slowly through her nose. “So they hid first.”
“Most likely.”
Ludger finally put the map down, though his gaze remained on the dark edge of the road and the fields beyond.
For a brief moment, another thought crossed his mind, irritating in its accuracy. He should have brought the beastmen. He didn’t enjoy admitting that, even internally.
Hiding them would have been harder, of course. A human group could pass with enough masks, cloaks, and posture discipline. Beastmen drew attention by existing, especially in the wrong part of the Empire. Bringing them on a mission tied to fugitives, noble politics, and the Regent would have complicated appearances immediately.
Still… Their tracking skills would have been useful. More useful than his own, at least in a case like this.
Ludger looked toward the sinking sun and then at the darkening stretch of land around them.
“We camp here for the night.”
Rowan turned his head slightly, scanning the open ground again. The area was broad enough to make a proper camp quickly, but open enough that it felt irritating rather than comfortable. He narrowed his eyes and looked farther into the distance.
“There are shadows moving,” he said quietly.
Eclaire and Jennifer followed his line of sight.
At first, it was hard to see clearly. Then, once the eye adjusted to the evening light and the shape of the terrain, it became obvious enough. Distant figures. Movement where there shouldn’t have been movement. Not approaching directly, not running, just shifting at the edge of visibility with the patience of people who had no intention of being easily noticed.
They were being watched. Ludger didn’t seem surprised.
“They should be scouts from other guilds,” he said. “They want to alert their friends if another group finds the target first.”
That made sense.
No one involved in this hunt would want to do all the hard searching only to let some other guild swoop in at the last moment and claim the reward, the praise, or the favor from the capital. So of course they would have watchers spread across the countryside, eyes sitting on roads and camps and suspicious routes, waiting to signal if someone else got too close to something useful.
Still, Ludger added, “There’s also the possibility they’re just watching because some guilds hold grudges against me.”
Eclaire glanced at him.
“That must be tiring,” she said, “making enemies left and right like you do.”
Ludger shrugged.
“It’s part of my charm.”
Jennifer let out a faint breath that could have been a laugh if she were in a kinder mood. Rowan just shook his head once and began unloading what they needed.
The others started setting camp after that. It was done quickly and without wasted motion, each of them already understanding that this wasn’t the sort of place where one could afford to act relaxed just because night had arrived. Bedding stayed minimal. Fire was considered and rejected. The carriage was positioned to give partial cover. Cloaks, supplies, and sleeping arrangements were laid out with practical spacing rather than comfort.
Meanwhile, Ludger didn’t stop working.
He stepped onto a small earth platform and pushed himself forward slowly, gliding over the ground with controlled, quiet movement. To an outside observer, it would have looked strange, too smooth to be walking, too deliberate to be flashy. He simply rode the shifting stone a little ahead of camp, then farther to the side, scanning the terrain in widening arcs.
He wasn’t done scouting. Not even close.
The light was dying, which meant the land was changing. Distances became less honest in twilight. Hiding places grew more useful. People who had stayed just outside proper sight all afternoon would start feeling bolder now, and the difference between harmless scouts and a night problem often came down to which group prepared better before darkness fully settled.
Ludger let Seismic Sense spread downward again while his eyes continued searching the horizon.
Uneven ground. Shallow dips. Old cart impressions. The distant movement of people keeping their distance. No immediate rush.
No hidden cluster close enough to justify concern yet.
Still, he kept moving, the earth platform nudging him forward in small silent corrections while the camp behind him came together piece by piece.
Eclaire watched him for a second from the corner of her eye, then looked back toward the distant watchers.
Jennifer muttered, “He really doesn’t stop.”
Rowan answered while tightening part of the carriage setup. “That’s why he is infamous.”
Out in the fading light, Ludger continued gliding over the terrain like a quiet unnatural thing, still checking lines of approach, likely observation points, and the shape of the land that would decide how bad the night became if someone got stupid.
And considering how many guilds were now chasing the same prey, there was a very real chance someone would.
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