Lucius grimaced. “No. I just… figured I should ask your opinion before, well, before anything else.”

  Ludger squinted. “Get along as in… what? Ask her hand? Court her? Try not to die when she ignores you for training?”

  Lucius swallowed, looking both embarrassed and determined. “Yes.”

  Ludger stared at him a moment longer. Then nodded once.

  “Good luck.”

  Lucius blinked. “Just… good luck?”

  “Yeah,” Ludger said, his tone completely deadpan. “Because when you were kids, she broke your nose for annoying her. And that was before she had sword training, mana techniques, and the stamina to spar for five hours straight.”

  Lucius went pale. Ludger continued, expression still flat:

  “Imagine what she’d do to you now if you made her cry or upset. You wouldn’t just be in trouble. You’d be in a world of pain.”

  Lucius’ throat bobbed.

  “And if you hurt her intentionally,” Ludger added casually, “I will personally build a new type of coffin just to put you in.”

  Lucius nodded so fast he almost bowed. “Understood. Perfectly understood.”

  “Good.” Ludger crossed his arms. “Now stop fidgeting. You’re killing the atmosphere.”

  Lucius stiffened, straightened, and tried to imitate composure again, but his legs were shaking just enough that even Kharnek, laughing two rooms away, would’ve noticed. Ludger watched him go with a sigh.

  Of all the problems tonight… a noble boy trying to court Viola might be the least dangerous.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t make it any less annoying. It didn’t make it anything less weird either.

  Ludger slipped into motion again, drifting through the ballroom like a shadow in emerald trim. Everywhere he walked, music blended with chatter, perfume mixed with alcohol, and the polished floor vibrated faintly under the boots and heels of well-fed nobles. His Seismic Sense worked in the background like a second heartbeat, scanning every pulse, every step, every shift in weight.

  At the far corners of the room, partially hidden behind marble pillars, he spotted two familiar silhouettes. Maurien, and Cor.

  Both were dressed properly, Maurien in an elegant dark navy outfit that somehow still looked battle-ready, Cor in a crisp formal coat that made his grumpy face look even more like someone regretting attending a social function. They each glanced toward Ludger as he passed. A small nod from Maurien. A grunt-like nod from Cor. Neither approached. Neither needed to.

  They were working the same silent duty he was, their eyes scanning the crowd even while holding a wine glass or pretending to observe the decorations. Good. That meant two less threats he had to worry about.

  But then someone did approach him. Someone who definitely wasn’t trying to stay low-profile even though she was supposed to,. Kaela.

  She practically glided across the ballroom, every step a deliberate attention-grabber. Her dress, deep silver with a slit on one leg and patterns that shimmered like wind in moonlight, caught the light with every sway. She’d styled her hair too, leaving it loose enough to frame her face but threaded with strands that sparkled subtly. The moment she closed in on Ludger, he felt an embarrassing number of heads turn their way.

  Kaela had never been subtle in her life. Tonight, she wasn’t even pretending. She leaned in with a grin that could’ve powered a small city.

  “Hey, Luds,” Kaela said, tapping his shoulder with a painted fingernail. “Looking good today.”

  Ludger didn’t even blink. “If you’re fishing for compliments from me, you’re wasting your time.”

  Kaela pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “Wow. Rejected instantly. Brutal.”

  “You dressed like that to gather attention,” Ludger said, glancing at her outfit. “You succeeded. Congratulations.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment,” Kaela shot back.

  “It wasn’t meant as one.”

  She squinted at him. “You really are impossible.”

  Ludger shrugged. “And you’re loud.”

  Kaela’s grin returned, wider than before. “Still noticed me, though.”

  Several nobles turning to stare at them proved it. Loud whispers. Curious looks. A few jealous ones too. Exactly what Kaela wanted.

  She twirled once, letting the hem of her dress flare slightly. “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think,” Ludger said, scanning the crowd behind her instead of the dress, “that if you fall over trying to walk in those shoes, I’m not catching you.”

  Kaela barked a laugh. “Ha! Don’t worry. I only fall for handsome boys, not grumpy gremlins.”

  Ludger ignored that, though his ear twitched.

  She softened for a brief moment, leaning closer. “Everything quiet so far?”

  “For now,” he murmured.

  They both knew “quiet” never stayed quiet where Ludger went.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  She gave him one last grin before drifting back toward the dancing circle, her dress pulling half the ballroom’s attention with her, while Ludger resumed his circuit, Seismic Sense pulsing like a silent drum.

  Work first. Distractions later. If tonight stayed peaceful, it would be a miracle. And Ludger didn’t believe in such convenient miracles that happen by him doing nothing.

  Ludger continued his quiet patrol through the ballroom’s edges, drifting past clusters of nobles and merchants as easily as slipping between shadows. The music swelled around him, violins blending with soft percussion, while laughter rolled like waves over polished marble floors. Everywhere he looked, the room shimmered with color and movement, yet the far corner ahead stood oddly still.

  There, half-hidden beside an ornate marble pillar carved to resemble twisting vines, stood Gaius. Or more accurately, the immovable object known as Gaius.

  He didn’t move. At all. Not a shift of weight, not a turn of the head, not even a blink Ludger could catch. His posture was perfectly straight, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders slightly squared like a soldier at ceremonial attention. If Ludger hadn’t known him, he might've assumed the man was a very lifelike statue placed there as part of the room’s aesthetics.

  And perhaps that was exactly Gaius’s intention. He blended into the décor with unnerving ease, so much so that passing nobles subconsciously avoided his presence, drifting toward other areas of the ballroom as if guided by instinct. They whispered things like, “What remarkable discipline,” or “He must be meditating,” without daring to interrupt him.

  Ludger slowed his steps as he approached, studying him. Of all the Lionsguard members working quietly tonight, Gaius was the one who looked like he was actually born for undercover guard duty, watching the entire room without ever drawing attention.

  Ludger came to a stop a few feet away. He didn’t speak. There was no need.

  For several long seconds, Gaius remained perfectly still. Then, as subtle as the flicker of a shadow, his eyes shifted and locked onto Ludger’s. That was the only movement he made—just the slightest tracking motion, followed by a small, controlled nod.

  He understood the situation. He was alert. He had seen everything in his line of sight.

  Ludger returned the gesture with an equally small dip of his chin before resuming his route along the room’s perimeter. There was no need to exchange words, not now, not here. Their awareness aligned. Each of them covered a portion of the ballroom, a web of silent vigilance woven through the celebration.

  With Maurien and Cor anchoring two corners, Kaela mingling as a distraction, and Gaius acting as an immovable sentinel, the picture was complete.

  And now it was Ludger’s turn to wait for the inevitable shift in the room, the first ripple in the atmosphere, the first anomaly in the flow of mana or movement.

  As Ludger continued his sweep along the ballroom’s edges, the music surged into a lively crescendo, couples spinning in elegant arcs while nobles clapped politely on the sidelines. But amid all the flowing silks and polished boots, Ludger spotted a cluster of guests who stood out more by how hard they were trying not to stand out.

  His second squad. Renn, Marie, Bramm, Jorin, and Tali, lined up along one wall like soldiers awaiting inspection.

  And right behind them, scattered with practiced nonchalance, were members of the first squad, Mira, Taron, Rhea, Callen, Derrin, keeping watch over their juniors like older siblings forced to babysit at a family event.

  Ludger slowed as he approached. The moment they noticed him, their expressions shifted in synchronized panic.

  Renn straightened so hard his back popped. Marie tried to curtsy but only succeeded in bowing stiffly at the waist. Bramm froze with his hands clasped in front of him like he’d been caught stealing bread. Jorin gave a smile so tight it looked physically painful.

  Tali looked as if one wrong move would get her executed on the spot.

  They were trying their absolute best to “behave” in the presence of nobles. Unfortunately, their idea of behaving was to turn themselves into immobile decorative mannequins.

  The first squad didn’t even try to hide their amusement. Mira bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. Rhea elbowed Taron, who was shaking his head with a long-suffering sigh. Callen pretended to look away but kept checking the kids like worried parents. Derrin crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the show.

  When Ludger walked past, all the second-squad members nodded at once, sharp, stiff little bows, and forced unnatural smiles like they were convinced one wrong expression would get them thrown out of the manor.

  They didn’t speak. They barely breathed. Ludger arched an eyebrow. They immediately stiffened more, which he hadn’t thought possible.

  He didn’t break their illusion of composed terror, just gave them a subtle nod of acknowledgment before moving on.

  As he walked away, he heard Marie whisper, barely whisper, “Did we do it right?”

  Renn whispered back, “I don’t know! He nodded, so maybe we didn’t screw up!”

  Jorin added, “Don’t move. Movement makes us look guilty.”

  Bramm muttered, “What are we guilty of?”

  Tali answered, “Being here.”

  The first squad collectively facepalmed. Ludger didn’t look back, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he’d heard every word.

  And that their stiff, awkward, painfully earnest attempt at “proper behavior” had, if nothing else, lightened the air around him for a brief moment. They were trying. And for tonight, that was enough.

  Near the far end of the ballroom, just past where the second squad was attempting to transform into furniture, Ludger picked up another cluster of familiar presences. This group wasn’t stiff, awkward, or trying to impress anyone. They carried themselves with the natural gravity of people who commanded armies, guilds, and political weight.

  Darnell stood at the center of the trio, dressed in formal Torvares colors that somehow still made him look like he was about to roll into a battlefield. He carried his usual grounded, no-nonsense presence, shoulders squared, hair tied back neatly, expression relaxed but sharp. The captain of Torvares’ guard in Lionfang was always alert, even at a noble party.

  Beside him, Varik, Guildmaster of the Silver Talon Order, looked almost out of place in fancy attire. His silver-themed ceremonial coat fit him well, but the man radiated the aura of someone who preferred armor and open air, not chandeliers and polished floors. Still, he spoke calmly with Darnell, nodding along to whatever discussion they were sharing. And then there was Rufas Dalmoren.

  Young heir of House Dalmoren. One of the most influential military families in the Empire. And one of the last with direct ties to the Imperial bloodline.

  Rufas wore a tailored dark uniform with the crimson Dalmoren crest embroidered subtly on one sleeve. He looked composed, sharp eyes, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back, but there was tension in his shoulders. Not social discomfort, but alertness. Awareness. The readiness of someone who knew very well that tonight’s gathering had political undercurrents beneath all the glitter.

  Their ranks varied drastically, Darnell a captain, Varik a guildmaster, Rufas practically royalty, but somehow the three had fallen into easy conversation. Shared experiences as commanders, shared understanding of battlefield judgment, perhaps shared caution after the events in the capital.

  And maybe… a shared respect for Torvares, since this was his house. When Ludger passed near them, all three men looked his way.Varik gave a small, respectful nod. Darnell raised two fingers in a casual greeting. Rufas inclined his head slightly, expression neutral but acknowledging.

  None of them approached him.None of them tried to speak with him. They understood, instinctively, that Ludger was working tonight, not mingling. Interrupting someone on covert guard duty was something only fools or clueless nobles did, and these three were neither.

  Ludger returned the nod with his usual minimal acknowledgment before slipping past, his footsteps already heading toward the next blind spot in the room. The high-ranking men went back to their discussion, and Ludger let them fade from his immediate attention. There were bigger shadows to watch.