Ludger’s spinning chair stopped moving entirely.
Yvar, seeing he still had Ludger’s attention, added, “It will take place in two months.”
Two months. Ludger squinted. Because yes, that was exactly the kind of timing reality would choose just to be irritating.
Two months from now was around the same time his own birthday celebration, the one his mother was organizing with increasingly suspicious amounts of enthusiasm, was supposed to happen.
Of course the Empire, in all its rotten timing and unwanted symbolism, had decided to overlap a grand imperial birthday event with the period when Elaine would be busy turning Lionfang into a family-centered disaster of food, noise, attention, and affectionate violence disguised as celebration.
Awful timing.
Ludger leaned back in the chair slightly, staring at Yvar now not because the man had done anything wrong, but because he had become the messenger for an inconvenience wearing polished clothes.
Yvar, wisely, did not speak. He had known Ludger long enough to recognize that silence.
Eventually, Ludger said, “I’m not going.”
That answer came so quickly that it almost sounded like he had prepared it in advance. Which, to be fair, he probably would have even without the birthday conflict.
Not like he had been planning to go to the capital to celebrate anyone’s birthday who wasn’t from his family or the guild. The very thought of attending some imperial event full of nobles, officials, hidden enemies, people pretending not to fear him, and other people pretending too hard to be honored by his presence sounded exhausting in a way that should have been illegal.
Especially now. Especially after everything he had learned. Yvar gave a small nod, as if that had been more or less what he expected.
“I assumed as much,” he said.
Ludger looked at the papers on his desk, then back at Yvar.
“Did the invitation say anything useful?”
Yvar’s mouth twisted slightly. “Useful depends on your tolerance for ceremonial language.”
“So no.”
“Mostly no,” Yvar admitted. “It was phrased as recognition of your recent service to the Empire, acknowledgment of Lionsguard’s contributions, and an expression of hope that your presence would honor the celebration.”
Ludger stared at him for a second.
Then said, “That sounds disgusting.”
Yvar made the mistake of looking briefly amused. “A little.”
Ludger leaned back further, one hand resting on the arm of the chair while the other still held the draft of his manual. A box of diamond coins. An imperial invitation. Recognition from the Regent.
Yes, that all fit together too neatly. Payment covered the obvious obligation. The invitation did the rest. It tested loyalty. Availability.
Interest. Maybe even ambition. Would the frightening northern prodigy come when called? Would he step into court glitter and ceremony if the Empire reached out politely enough? Would Lionsguard take the hint and behave like a useful rising faction instead of an increasingly independent problem at the frontier?
The answer, naturally, was no.
Ludger had no interest in dancing attendance at court, not when the capital was filled with smiling rot and half its important men deserved to be buried under ruined stone. He exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Put the money under guild accounting until I decide where it goes,” he said. “And send a reply to the capital.”
Yvar straightened slightly. “What kind of reply?”
Ludger’s eyes narrowed faintly.
“Polite enough that they can’t complain. Distant enough that they understand I’m not interested.”
Yvar nodded once, already filing away the shape of it.
Yvar didn’t leave immediately. He stopped near the door, thought for a moment, then turned back with the look of a man who had just realized the problem on the table might be more annoying than it first appeared.
“After thinking about it a bit,” he said, “this could actually give us a chance to avoid more problems with the capital later.”
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Ludger looked at him but said nothing. Yvar took that as permission to continue.
“The momentum is on our side right now,” he said. “Between the rumors about your power, the destruction from the hunt, and the fact that the capital clearly accepted that you completed the mission, this is probably the most favorable position Lionsguard will have with them for a while.”
That much was hard to deny. Fear, respect, usefulness, and uncertainty had all aligned in a way that made the capital more cautious around Ludger than hostile for the moment. It was an ugly balance, but still a balance. And ugly balances were often the most useful kind politically.
Ludger remained quiet, so Yvar kept going.
“If you don’t go,” he said, “they can interpret it however they want. Pride. Insult. rebellion. northern arrogance. Or just refusal to cooperate after taking imperial coin.” His mouth tightened slightly. “That might not become a problem immediately. But later? When the mood shifts? It could.”
That was, irritatingly, true. Ludger did not bother pretending otherwise.
Yvar watched his face for a second, then added, “Torvares and Viola were probably invited too.”
That got an actual reaction. Small. But real. Ludger gave a faint nod.
Yes. That seemed very probable.
A gathering like that, imperial birthday, court presence, notable contributors, noble houses, rising factions, House Torvares would almost certainly be included. Viola too, whether she wanted to attend or not.
And unlike Ludger, they did not have the luxury of treating that kind of invitation like a mildly offensive suggestion.
Yvar noticed the shift and pressed the point.
“They won’t handle the nobles badly,” he said. “Torvares especially won’t. That part isn’t the issue. But it would still be better for you to be there with them. Just in case.”
Ludger’s eyes narrowed faintly. Because again, yes. That was probably true too.
If he stayed away entirely, then Torvares and Viola might end up absorbing some of the irritation created by his decision. Not openly, perhaps. The capital would smile too much for that. But the burn would still be there, hidden under court politeness and carefully shaped disappointment.
Your northern allies are difficult. Your connections are becoming inconvenient. Your vice guildmaster takes coin and declines presence. Is that how House Torvares intends to position itself now?
That sort of pressure. Indirect. Cowardly. Very noble. Ludger disliked it on instinct. Not because he suddenly cared about court ritual. Because if anyone was going to carry the consequences of his decisions, he would prefer it to be him.
Not Viola. Not Torvares. Not when they were already taking enough political heat just by standing near Lionsguard’s rise.
He leaned back slightly in the chair, thinking. The timing was still awful. That part had not improved. If anything, it had become more irritating now that there was an actual reason to consider going.
The Emperor’s birthday in two months.
His own around the same time. Elaine’s celebration plans. The capital. Torvares. Viola. Possible political fallout if he refused too bluntly.
All of it sat together in one ugly pile. Eventually, Ludger exhaled through his nose.
“I’ll talk to my mother,” he said.
Yvar blinked once.
“That means you’re considering it?”
“It means,” Ludger said flatly, “I need to know the day she planned for my birthday.”
That sounded exactly like Ludger. Not agreement. Not enthusiasm. Just logistics dragging him by the throat toward a decision he didn’t particularly like.
Yvar, to his credit, did not look too pleased with himself for making the point land. He just nodded and waited.
“In the worst case,” Ludger continued, “they’ll have to delay it a bit.”
His tone made it clear he found the whole thing mildly absurd. Not because he objected to the idea of celebrating. Because he personally did not care much about the exact date.
A birthday was a date. Useful for other people, perhaps. Not especially important to him in itself.
Still… He knew the people around him cared. That was the inconvenient part. Elaine would care. Arslan would care, in his own way. The twins would probably treat it like an event on the level of a seasonal festival or military victory.
Even people in the guild, for reasons Ludger still found somewhat ridiculous, seemed to enjoy marking the day he had come into this world as if that alone warranted attention.
Which, perhaps, to them it did. That was its own problem. Ludger’s gaze dropped briefly toward the manual on his desk, then back to Yvar.
“I don’t care if the celebration moves,” he said. “But they do.”
Yvar’s expression softened by a degree, not sentimentally, just with the quiet recognition of someone who understood that this was Ludger’s way of admitting that some things mattered even when he personally found them inconvenient.
“That makes sense,” Yvar said.
Ludger looked mildly annoyed that it did. So Yvar, wisely, did not comment further on that.
Instead, he asked, “Should I hold off on refusing the invitation for now?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll prepare a neutral response instead,” Yvar said. “Something that acknowledges receipt and says you’re reviewing the timing.”
“Make it sound less irritating than that.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Ludger gave a small nod. Good enough. Yvar turned again toward the door, then paused one last time.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “if you do go, it might save us trouble later.”
Ludger’s expression stayed flat.
“For what it’s worth,” he replied, “that is not a compelling endorsement.”
Yvar almost smiled. Almost. Then he left.
The door closed behind him, and Ludger sat there in silence again, staring at the papers on his desk and thinking, not for the first time, that the world had a deeply irritating habit of making the politically correct option overlap with the most inconvenient one possible.
If going to the capital once bought Lionsguard breathing room, reduced future friction, and kept some of the burn off Torvares and Viola, then there was a point to it.
Annoying. But real.
And if the birthday celebration at home had to be pushed back a little because of that, then so be it. Not like Ludger cared about the exact date.
He only cared that the people around him did. Which, he reflected with some irritation, was probably how these things kept winning against his preferences in the first place.
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