Rhea looked personally offended by the partial clarity.
“So did you destroy part of the mountain or not?”
“Yes.”
That answer came quickly enough to make everyone’s eyes shift again.
Rhea straightened immediately. “See?”
“That was never the confusing part,” Mira said.
“It kind of was,” Taron muttered.
Jennifer or Eclaire would have said something dry there. Since neither of them was present, the room had to suffer on its own.
Ludger leaned back slightly and looked at the five of them in turn.
“The details of that hunt are not why you’re here,” he said.
That was enough to pull them back on track. Mostly.
Rhea still looked like she had at least six more questions she considered extremely reasonable. Callen looked like he was preparing to survive whatever came next. Taron had the dangerous brightness of someone hearing that secrets existed and deciding that made the day better. Mira and Derrin, at least, had already returned to what mattered.
Derrin spoke first.
“Then why are we here?”
Ludger tapped the nearest stack of papers once.
“Because Lionsguard is too large for the old teaching structure.”
That got their attention immediately.
“The guild has passed a thousand members,” Ludger continued. “That means the current way we train people is no longer good enough. It works because certain individuals carry too much of it personally. That stops being reliable at this size.”
Mira’s expression turned more serious. Taron glanced at the papers again. Callen let out a faint breath through his nose, already seeing where this was going.
Rhea just squinted. “You’re about to give us work, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it.”
Ludger ignored that.
“The instructors won’t remain instructors forever,” he said. “Some will move into command. Some will stagnate. Some will become less useful. Some were never especially good at teaching in the first place and only got away with it because we were smaller.”
That last part earned a quiet, involuntary snort from Derrin. Again, fair.
“So,” Ludger said, “the guild needs a proper system. One that can keep producing capable fighters, specialists, and support personnel without depending too heavily on a handful of people.”
He let that settle for a second, then continued.
“You five stood out early. Not just in combat. In growth, adaptability, and how people around you respond to you. That makes you stand out.”
Rhea grinned slightly at that. Mira stayed composed, though her eyes sharpened.
Callen looked resigned in the way of a man realizing he had just been promoted into suffering. Taron looked interested enough to be dangerous again. Derrin looked like he was already trying to figure out whether this was good news or simply better-packaged overwork.
Ludger decided not to waste time.
“I’m taking the next step,” he said. “And that means I need people who can grow into more than field assets.”
That changed the room. Not dramatically. But enough. Because now they understood. This wasn’t just another task.
This was guild structure. Influence. Responsibility.
A chance to become something larger inside Lionsguard than just promising young talent with good results and annoying amounts of energy.
Rhea, for once, was not the first one to speak. Mira was.
“What exactly are you asking us to do?”
Ludger’s mouth flattened faintly.
“Learn how to become worth following.”
That got him five different expressions at once. Confusion from Rhea. Immediate thought from Mira. Suspicion from Derrin. Curiosity from Taron.
And a tired sort of dread from Callen, who probably understood sooner than the others that Ludger’s phrasing meant this was going to become more complicated before it became useful.
Ludger looked at all five again.
“You’re not here because I need five strong hands,” he said. “I have enough of those. You’re here because the guild needs future trainers, future squad leaders, future specialists people can actually learn from, and examples that don’t collapse the moment they’re asked to think beyond the next fight.”
Rhea folded her arms.
“So,” she said slowly, “you called us here because you think we might become important.”
Ludger considered that for half a second.
“Yes.”
Rhea’s grin came back immediately.
Derrin muttered, “That was the wrong way to phrase it, then.”
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Mira actually smiled a little this time. Taron looked even more engaged now, which remained mildly concerning. Callen rubbed at his temple like the future had just personally developed more paperwork.
Ludger didn’t bother correcting the energy in the room. They could be pleased. For now. Soon enough, they’d understand this was less a reward and more the beginning of a much more annoying class of responsibility.
Ludger let the quiet settle for a moment after that.
Then he said, “You’ll remain a team.”
That got their attention immediately.
Rhea looked pleased by that. Derrin looked relieved despite himself. Mira stayed still, but the slight easing in her posture was there if one knew where to look. Taron’s expression suggested he had already started imagining strange combinations of squad utility if the five of them kept overlapping now and then. Callen, meanwhile, just looked like a man waiting for the part where the good news turned into work.
Naturally, that part came next.
“But,” Ludger continued, “you’ll only work together on special missions.”
That changed the room again. Not badly. Just sharply enough that all five of them straightened a little. Because they understood what that meant before he even finished saying it.
The old structure was ending. Ludger looked at them one by one before speaking the rest.
“From now on, you’ll be leaders of your own squads.”
Silence. A real one this time. Rhea blinked first.
Derrin’s shoulders went a little more rigid. Mira’s eyes narrowed in thought rather than resistance. Taron looked like he was trying not to look too interested too quickly. Callen exhaled slowly through his nose, like some part of him had expected this and still hoped reality might choose to be less irritating.
Ludger kept going before any of them could interrupt.
“You’ll train them,” he said. “You’ll improve them as you see fit. And you’ll have the chance to select the members of your squads yourselves.”
That landed harder. Because now the shape of it was becoming clear. This was not just being handed a command and told to make it work. This was selection. Design. Responsibility from the foundation upward.
Ludger tapped the papers lightly.
“You’re not being assigned random bodies and told to survive it. You’ll build squads with a purpose. That means choosing members who fit what you want to become.”
He looked at Derrin first.
“If you want a spear-focused pressure unit with strong frontline control, build that.”
Then Mira.
“If you want a scouting and hunting squad with stealth, field awareness, and long-range pressure, build that.”
Then Taron.
“If you want a team centered around support, alchemy, runes, gear preparation, or battlefield utility, you build toward that.”
Then Rhea.
“If you want a direct assault squad full of people too stubborn to die and too violent to stop moving, that’s your problem to assemble.”
Rhea grinned immediately. “Now that sounds good.”
Callen muttered, “That sounds like a public safety issue.”
Ludger ignored them both and looked at Callen last.
“If you want a squad focused on water utility, control, support casting, terrain use, and sustained combat adaptation, then you shape it that way.”
Callen rubbed his forehead once. “You say that like it won’t take forever.”
“It will,” Ludger said.
That honesty shut down at least three possible complaints. Good. He continued.
“You’ll specialize in whatever field you want. That freedom is intentional. Lionsguard is too large now to keep pretending everyone should be trained into the same shape. We need squads with identity. Clear strengths. Clear roles. Clear methods.”
Mira nodded faintly at that. Yes. That made sense. Because if every squad tried to become good at everything, then most of them would end up mediocre at all of it.
Ludger let them think for another second, then added, “Of course, that freedom does not mean chaos.”
That got Rhea’s attention in the worst way, which meant it definitely needed to be said.
“You’ll still learn the guild’s core skills,” he said. “And your squads will too. There will be standards everyone is expected to meet. Foundational training. Shared doctrine. Core techniques worth spreading. You’ll learn from the guild, and you’ll teach those things when needed.”
Derrin crossed his arms. “So there’s still a common backbone.”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him. Because that was the point.
Lionsguard could diversify without breaking apart. Specialized squads were useful. Five little private kingdoms pretending they had nothing to do with each other were not.
Ludger looked over them again.
“After that,” he said, “you’ll have room to do what you want.”
That line hit them all differently.
To Rhea, it sounded like permission to create something brutal and straightforward.
To Mira, it probably sounded like precision and control.
To Taron, it sounded like an excuse to experiment in ways that would need supervision.
To Derrin, it sounded like responsibility heavy enough to be annoying but useful enough to matter.
To Callen, it sounded like work. A lot of work. The kind that would eventually become meaningful and therefore impossible to refuse.
Which meant the message had landed correctly. Rhea was the first to speak.
“So we get our own squads, train them our way, and still team up when the job is important enough.”
“Yes.”
Her grin widened. “That’s actually great.”
Derrin gave her a flat look. “You say that now because you haven’t had to manage people yet.”
“I’ve managed people.”
“No,” Callen said. “You’ve bullied people into moving the direction you wanted.”
“That counts.”
“It really doesn’t,” Mira said.
Taron, meanwhile, had gone quiet in the way he usually did when his brain started spinning ahead of the conversation. Ludger noticed.
“Say it.”
Taron blinked once. “How much freedom?”
Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Enough to matter. Not enough to embarrass the guild.”
That got a brief snort out of Jennifer-sized air from no one present, but the line still worked.
Taron nodded slowly. “So if I want to design rune usage inside the squad around role interaction instead of individual convenience…”
“Then do it,” Ludger said. “If it works.”
“And if it fails?”
“Then you’ll have wasted time and I’ll tell you that your idea was stupid.”
Taron accepted that with surprising ease. Fair enough. Mira spoke next.
“How many members?”
Ludger leaned back slightly.
“That depends on function. You’re not all getting the same numbers. A scouting-heavy unit does not need the same size as a direct combat squad. Nor should an alchemy-and-rune utility team be built like a pressure unit.”
That got Mira and Taron thinking immediately. Good.
Because they were already moving toward the right question: not how big can I make my squad, but what size best suits what it’s supposed to do.
Derrin looked down at the papers, then back at Ludger.
“And we choose from the current pool?”
“Yes.”
“Only once?”
“No. Initial selection first. Adjustments later if needed. But I’m not letting you swap people every few days like indecisive idiots.”
Rhea clicked her tongue. “You really know how to make opportunities sound hostile.”
“They are hostile,” Ludger said. “To incompetence.”
That shut her up for almost three whole seconds. Callen finally asked the more practical question.
“And when does this start?”
Ludger’s answer came without pause.
“Now.”
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