The plan had formed the moment he confirmed the nature of the concealment, and it would probably work faster than anything subtle they could attempt. He could already see the path of it. The force needed. The shock value. The degree of pressure required to tear through the lie, flush out whoever was underneath it, and seize control of the situation before the Dalmorens or anyone tied to them could decide the terms.
Efficient. Brutal. Likely successful. And politically filthy. That was the issue.
It wouldn’t just create rumors about him personally. That part he could live with. People already whispered about him. A little more wouldn’t matter. But this particular approach would not stay neatly attached to Ludger did something insane again. It would slide outward, the way the worst stories always did.
It would become:
Lionsguard uses methods like this.
This is how their vice guildmaster handles negotiations. This is what happens when the Lionsguard family is left unchecked. This is what kind of people they are becoming in the north.
And once it reached that stage, it would stop being his burden alone. It would touch Arslan. Elaine. The twins, Viola. The guild. The recruits. Even people like Luna, who were already too easily linked to him by the eyes of people who had too much time and too little shame.
That part mattered.
More than he liked, because admitting that meant admitting he could no longer afford the same freedom of action he once enjoyed. He had too many people tied to his shadow now. Too many lives that could be made harder if he chose the fastest ugly answer every single time.
Annoying. Very annoying. But real. And because it was real, he set that plan aside.
Not forever. That was important.
He did not discard it. He wasn’t sentimental enough for that. If the cleaner methods failed, if the Dalmorens proved slippery, arrogant, or stupid in exactly the wrong combination, he could still come back to the harsher route and use it without apology.
For now, though, he would try something else. Something narrower. Something that might still succeed without leaving behind a story so poisonous it clung to everyone around him. His smirk flattened out and disappeared, replaced by the calm unreadable look that most people trusted far more than they should have.
Beside him, Eclaire, Jennifer, and Rowan all noticed the shift even if they couldn’t have named what changed. Ludger studied the false grass again.
The illusion was good. Not perfect, but good enough that ordinary people would trust it unless given a reason not to. The mana field beneath it hummed in a way that reminded him unpleasantly of the sealed dungeon’s concealment, though this version felt more practical than ancient. Less mysterious. More like a technique rebuilt by people who understood the principle but not all the elegance of the original.
Which was useful information by itself.
It meant someone involved here either had access to rare knowledge, or had moved fast and competently enough to replicate it under pressure. Neither option made the Dalmorens look less dangerous.
Jennifer watched him for another second and then asked, “What now?”
Ludger did not look away from the field.
“Now we do this without making the Empire think Lionsguard has completely lost its mind.”
Jennifer stared at him. “Only completely?”
“Yes.”
That answer came so dryly that Rowan had to suppress the urge to sigh immediately. Eclaire, on the other hand, looked more troubled than amused, because she understood what Jennifer was playing with.
That line had not been reassurance. It had been a boundary. A very relative one. And the fact that Ludger considered this version the restrained approach said enough on its own.
He stepped forward through the night air, eyes narrowed slightly, already shifting from reflection into execution.
Whatever came next, he would keep it tighter. Cleaner. At least cleaner than the first plan. And if that failed...
Well.
Then everyone would get to learn why that smirk had annoyed him so much in the first place. Ludger kept his eyes on the false field for another second before speaking.
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“We walk toward them normally.”
Eclaire turned her head. “Normally.”
“Yes.”
His tone stayed flat.
“If they panic and mess up, I might use a little violence to calm them down.” Then he jerked his chin forward. “Follow me.”
Jennifer made a face under the mask that nobody could see, which was probably for the best.
Rowan just adjusted his posture and fell ready at once. Eclaire, however, spoke before they started moving.
“We should show them who we are without saying anything.”
Ludger glanced at her.
She continued, more focused now. “The magic swords would do the trick.”
That made sense immediately.
If the people inside the field really were tied to Rufas and the Dalmoren family, then there were only so many ways to announce identity without using names out loud. Too many words created risk. Too much hesitation created tension. But the floating magic swords? That would be recognized quickly enough by the right people since they knew those weapons as well, and there was no one else nearby now to make the display inconvenient.
Ludger gave a small nod.
“All right.”
There was no need to hide that particular skill here. Not with the scouts already dealt with, not with the area under magical concealment, and not when speed mattered more than preserving every possible layer of secrecy.
So the four of them began walking toward the field. As if they had already decided that anyone hidden inside could either receive them like people with functioning brains or suffer through the consequences of choosing otherwise.
A few steps in, Ludger raised one hand.
Mana gathered.
Then several magic swords formed around the group, one after another, each blade condensing into existence with clean edges and a cold metallic gleam. Once shaped, they began to spin around them in a controlled orbit, slow enough to be seen clearly, dangerous enough that nobody with sense would mistake them for a harmless show.
The effect was immediate. The four of them kept advancing through the grass while the blades circled them like a moving declaration. A message sharp enough for the right eyes.
Eclaire watched the false field ahead while the swords turned around them, her heartbeat steadying into something colder and more alert. Jennifer kept one hand ready near her gear. Rowan rolled one shoulder once and let his breathing settle deeper.
Ludger simply kept walking. The field remained quiet. No arrows. No spell barrage. No panicked emergence from cover. Nothing happened as they reached the edge of it.
They stepped into the zone where the grass should have been thickest and most natural. Still nothing.
For one strange second, it almost felt ridiculous. Like they were just walking through ordinary land after all, while all the tension, scouting, tracking, and bloodied overthinking behind them had been spent on empty countryside.
Then they took another step forward.
And the surroundings changed. The illusion peeled away in an instant so cleanly it almost felt like the world had taken a breath and exhaled the lie. The hills were no longer just hills. The grass was no longer just grass.
Eclaire’s eyes sharpened immediately. Jennifer went still. Rowan’s weight shifted just enough to say he was ready for violence if the next second demanded it.
And around them, Ludger’s magic swords continued to spin in slow, silent circles, reflecting the newly revealed world in cold flashing arcs.
What had looked like nothing more than low hills and open grassland unfolded into a small hidden camp tucked between natural rises in the earth. A few tents stood in the dark, plain and practical, their shapes kept low and unimpressive on purpose. Bedrolls, stacked supplies, water barrels, and the faint outline of tethered mounts sat scattered through the concealed space. The field had hidden it well. Too well, honestly.
Even now, with the illusion broken for them, the whole place still felt half-swallowed by night.
And they were not alone. A lot of people were already there, staring at Ludger and the others with weapons in hand. Mana weapons. A few bows were raised as well, though the archers holding them looked like they would rather not be the first to loose if they could avoid it. Everyone in the camp was ready to attack.
Or at least ready to try. Still, they didn’t look nearly as dangerous as they wanted to. Not because they lacked resolve. Because too many of them were wounded. Ludger saw it immediately.
Bandaged torsos. Arms tied close to ribs. Limps that weren’t fully hidden. Pale faces under the tension. The stiffness of people who had slept too little and healed worse. A few had the hollow look of men running on urgency long after strength should have abandoned them. Others were clearly trying to stand straighter than their bodies wanted to allow.
This was a camp held together by will and necessity more than condition. Which meant the Dalmorens were worse off than their concealment had implied. The magic swords continued to turn around Ludger’s group in slow silent circles.
For a few long seconds, nobody moved. Nobody attacked. Nobody lowered their weapon either. Then one man stepped forward from the camp.
He looked to be in his early twenties, though exhaustion and strain had sharpened parts of him enough to make the exact number less certain in the dark. He moved with a limp, one side of his body still not recovering properly from whatever had been done to him in the dungeon. Even now, even here, there was something noble and clean in the set of his shoulders that prison had failed to completely beat out of him.
His face was pale.
Tired. Still composed. He came a few more steps forward, eyes fixed on Ludger. Then he spoke.
“I was wondering who found us so soon,” he said.
His voice carried the weight of someone who already knew the answer before saying it aloud.
“But it makes sense that it had been you, Ludger.”
It was Rufas Dalmoren.
Eclaire’s breath caught for the smallest instant behind her mask.
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed.
Rowan stayed steady, but his attention sharpened immediately across the entire camp, measuring the wounded, the angles, the likely threat points, and how badly things would explode if one wrong hand twitched.
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