That night, when they finally decided to stop and sleep for a few hours, the camp ended up quiet in the way only a temporary resting place could be.
The runic carriage had been pulled aside near a sparse line of trees, the horses settled, the fire lit, and the small space around them arranged with practiced efficiency. No one made a fuss about it. They all had enough experience traveling to know their roles without wasting words.
Ludger sat with his back against a tree a short distance from the fire.
The rough bark pressed against his shoulders, and the night air carried just enough cold to keep him sharp without becoming unpleasant. His eyes were closed, but not fully. The sort of rest he allowed himself outside proper walls was always partial. A body easing off tension without ever really surrendering awareness.
On the other side of the campfire, Lord Torvares was lying on a camping bed, one arm resting across his chest, looking for all the world like a man who should have been asleep by now.
Viola and Luna were inside the carriage. At least, supposedly. Viola was definitely asleep. There was no mystery there.
Her snoring was loud enough that every so often Ludger could have sworn the carriage gave a faint, offended tremor in response. It was the kind of snore that sounded less like breathing and more like a personal dispute with silence.
Ludger opened one eye slightly and looked toward the carriage. That only raised another question. If Viola was making enough noise to shake wood and metal, was Luna actually sleeping through it? He found that hard to believe.
Then again, if Luna had decided she was going to sleep, maybe she simply treated Viola’s snoring the same way she treated everything else, by enduring it with quiet judgment.
Either way, Ludger doubted the rest inside the carriage was particularly peaceful.
The fire crackled softly. The trees shifted with the faint movement of night wind. For a while, nothing happened. Then Torvares moved.
The old man sat up on the camping bed in one smooth motion, not sluggish or disoriented in the way most people looked after waking. Ludger raised his head slightly from where it rested against the tree and looked over.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked.
Torvares let out a low breath and looked into the fire for a moment before answering.
“My mind refuses to stop thinking properly.”
That sounded about right. Ludger watched him in silence.
Torvares rubbed once at the side of his jaw, then added, “And I’m not exactly tired.”
His mouth curved faintly, though there was no real humor in it.
“A day of work at home is more tiresome than a trip like this.”
Ludger believed that easily enough.
For someone like Torvares, sitting in a carriage and moving toward a known destination probably was restful compared to the constant pressure of ruling, managing, negotiating, and making sure ambitious idiots did not set fire to things they should leave alone.
Still, there was something about the way the man sat there, looking at the fire instead of reaching for sleep again, that suggested his thoughts were not staying on simple household management. He looked too awake for that. Too occupied.
Ludger shifted slightly against the tree, the motion small enough not to disturb the quiet of the camp.
“Thinking about the capital?”
Torvares gave a short grunt that could have meant yes, mostly yes, or more than that. The firelight moved across his broad features, turning his expression heavier for a moment.
“There’s a difference,” he said, “between expecting a troublesome gathering and feeling several lines tightening at once.”
Ludger’s eyes narrowed a fraction. That was a more interesting answer than simple travel restlessness. He said nothing, though. Just let the old man keep speaking if he felt like it. And after a few seconds, Torvares did. The fire cracked softly between them. For a while, neither spoke. The night remained still, with only Viola’s distant, deeply offensive snoring occasionally reminding the world that peace was always temporary.
Then Torvares exhaled and said, “The more I tried to investigate the regent, the less I liked what I found.”
Ludger’s gaze stayed on the flames. “Because of what you found?”
Torvares’ expression hardened slightly.
“Because of what I didn’t.”
That made Ludger look at him properly.
Torvares rested his forearms on his knees, broad hands hanging loose while the firelight threw slow shadows across his face. “I pushed farther than before. Quietly. Through old contacts. Through people who owe me favors. Through records that are supposed to be harder to access than they really are.”
He paused.
“And I found almost nothing.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Ludger’s eyes narrowed by a fraction.
Torvares continued, voice low and even. “That alone would already be bad. Men at that level always hide things. But usually, when you dig enough, you begin to see the outline. Old allies. Family branches. Former loyalties. Names buried in minor offices. A pattern of movement. Something.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward the dark road beyond the camp.
“With him, there’s almost none of that.”
The fire popped. Ludger stayed quiet, letting the old man keep going.
“I found his current name,” Torvares said. “And I found the accomplishments that justified his rise. Enough advice given at the right time. Enough political efficiency. Enough moments where he proved useful to frightened people with too much power and too little competence.”
His mouth tightened faintly.
“Useful men rise quickly in rotten courts.”
Ludger understood that well enough.
“So what’s his name?” he asked.
Torvares looked back at him.
“Alphonse.”
Ludger’s expression didn’t change much, but the answer still sat strangely with him. He had dealt with the regent’s influence. He had seen the shape of the man’s reach. He had heard what others implied. Yet somehow, he realized he had never even been told the man’s actual name.
“I didn’t know it,” Ludger said.
Torvares gave a slow nod. “Most people don’t need to. Regent is enough for them.”
That made sense. Titles became masks easily. Sometimes more easily than faces.
Ludger looked into the fire again. “And aside from Alphonse?”
“Nothing worth trusting,” Torvares said. “No clear family origin. No house name that can be properly confirmed. No bloodline record solid enough to stand on. Nothing that explains how a man like that rose so far, so quickly, and with so little trail behind him.”
Ludger’s brows drew together faintly.
“Not even a family name?”
Torvares shook his head once.
“That’s what bothers me.”
He leaned back slightly, his expression growing heavier.
“If he were a commoner raised by merit, there should still be records. If he came from a fallen house, there should be whispers. If his past were simply buried on purpose, there should be inconsistencies large enough to smell.”
His gaze sharpened.
“With Alphonse, I found almost nothing. Just enough to prove he exists. Just enough to justify the office he holds. Not enough to understand the man beneath it.”
For a moment, only the fire spoke. Ludger considered that in silence. That kind of emptiness was not natural. Not in a court. Not around a man with that much influence.
Even lies usually left marks. False trails. Defensive stories. Contradictions polished too hard. But an absence that clean…
That was worse.
Finally, Ludger said, “You don’t like that I’m antagonistic toward someone like him.”
Torvares glanced at him.
“No,” he said plainly. “I don’t.”
Ludger didn’t react.
Torvares went on, “You’re too direct with men like that. Too willing to show your teeth. That works well against people who can be provoked cleanly.” His eyes settled on Ludger with quiet weight. “Men who are hard to grasp are different. If you can’t read where they stand, then every confrontation risks becoming a trap you don’t see until you’re already standing in it.”
That was fair. Annoying, but fair.
Ludger looked back at the fire. “And yet you don’t like him either.”
Torvares let out a low hum that was almost a grim laugh.
“No,” he said. “I don’t like it either that such a hard-to-grasp man is leading the empire.”
The words landed heavily. Not because they were dramatic. Because Torvares was not the sort of man who wasted that tone lightly. He ruled his lands. Managed people. Measured risk. Accepted that power always involved compromise. A man like that did not fear shadows easily.
Which meant his discomfort mattered.
“The empire can survive cruel men,” Torvares said after a while. “Ambitious men too. Even vain fools, if the structure around them is strong enough.” His expression cooled further. “But a man no one truly understands, standing that close to the center of power, shaping it while revealing almost nothing of himself…” He shook his head once. “That kind is dangerous in a different way.”
Ludger stayed still. Torvares’ voice remained low, controlled.
“Because you can’t tell where his limits are. Or what he actually wants. Or who he truly belongs to, if anyone.”
That last part lingered. Ludger picked it up immediately.
“You think he might belong to someone else?”
Torvares did not answer right away. When he finally spoke, it was measured.
“I think men like that rarely build themselves alone.”
That was not confirmation. But it was not comfort either. Ludger’s eyes dimmed slightly in thought.
Alphonse.
A name. A position. A handful of accomplishments. And a void where a life should have been. That was the sort of thing he hated. Not because mystery frightened him. Because it made clean action harder. Torvares rubbed one hand slowly over his knee before speaking again.
“You don’t need to like him,” he said. “I certainly don’t expect that. But I would prefer it if you treated him like a hidden blade instead of an open enemy.”
Ludger’s mouth moved faintly.
“That sounds tedious.”
“It is.”
“And you still want me to do it.”
“Yes.”
Ludger exhaled softly through his nose. Torvares looked at him with the patience of a man already used to arguing with dangerous people who disliked patience on principle.
“You don’t have to trust him,” the old lord said. “You don’t have to respect him. But until we understand more, I’d rather you not push him harder than necessary.”
Ludger let the silence stretch for a few seconds.
Then he said, “I can do necessary.”
Torvares’ gaze lingered on him.
“Try to.”
That was as close to optimism as the old man was willing to risk, apparently. Ludger didn’t promise anything more than that. He just leaned his head back against the tree again and watched the fire. Across from him, Torvares remained seated on the edge of his bedroll, broad and thoughtful in the dark.
And between them hung the shape of a man named Alphonse, almost invisible, barely known, yet somehow heavy enough to make the night feel less quiet than before.
Over the next two days, Ludger noticed something that became harder to ignore the more he paid attention.
Torvares never spoke seriously about the regent when Viola was around. Which was often. Very often.
Not because the old man was being obvious about it. He was too experienced for that. He simply adjusted the flow of conversation whenever she entered it. Certain topics ended naturally. Certain answers became shorter. Certain thoughts were left unfinished until later, when the chance had passed.
If someone less observant had been there, they might have missed it. Ludger did not.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter