Chapter 559
Before Ludger addressed the newcomers, he did something simple and very permanent.
He walked into the training yard, knelt, and pressed his palm to the ground. Earth mana flowed.
Stone rose in clean slabs around the yard’s perimeter, thick, two meters tall tablets set at the corners and near the main entrance, positioned where nobody could pretend they “didn’t see them.” The surface smoothed, then letters sank into it as if the rock itself had been born already knowing the rules.
Most of the newcomers stared. A few of the older ones tried not to. Ludger stood, dusted his hands, and looked over the line of two hundred faces. Most of them couldn’t read yet. He knew that. He also knew it wouldn’t matter, because he was going to make sure they heard the words anyway.
He stepped up onto the low stone platform used for announcements, posture straight, voice calm.
“My name is Ludger,” he said. “Vice Guildmaster of the Lionsguard.”
Murmurs ran through the crowd. Curiosity, awe, skepticism, ambition. A few expressions tightened at the words Vice Guildmaster, as if they didn’t like that someone their age could hold that position.
Ludger didn’t care.
He lifted a hand and pointed at the nearest tablet.
“If you can read, read them,” he said. “If you can’t, listen.”
Then he began.
“Rule one,” Ludger said, voice flat and clear. “Obey your instructors.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The yard was quiet enough that even the birds seemed to listen.
“Rule two,” he continued. “Respect your instructors.”
A couple people shifted uncomfortably. Good. That meant the rule had already found its target.
“Rule three,” Ludger said, “do not get in the way of training sessions by arriving late. If you show up after training begins, you don’t join quietly. You leave quietly.”
He moved his finger to the next line carved into stone.
“Rule four: no sparring outside sanctioned drills,” Ludger read. “If you want to test yourself, you do it in the ring, with a witness, under an instructor’s eye. If you jump someone in an alley, you’re not brave, you’re a liability.”
He pointed again.
“Rule five: no theft,” he said. “Not from the guild, not from members, not from the town. If you steal by telling later that you borrowed without informing, you’re telling me you can’t earn. I don’t train people who can’t earn.”
Another line. A few of the older trainees stared harder now. Some with anger. Some with dawning understanding.
“Rule six: keep your gear maintained,” Ludger said. “If you show up with broken straps, dull blades, or empty supplies, you’re telling me you don’t take survival seriously. That is an insult to everyone who has to stand beside you.”
He paused, letting his eyes sweep the crowd.
Then he read the last part, slowly.
“Rule seven: no bullying,” he said. “Not of smaller trainees. Not of weaker ones. If you want to prove you’re strong, prove it against monsters and the labyrinth, not against children who trusted us to train them.”
Silence. Thick now. The good kind.
Ludger lowered his hand.
“All of these rules,” he said, “are punishable.”
He let that hang. Then he finished it, clean and brutal.
“If you fail to uphold them,” Ludger said, “you will be banished from Lionsguard training.”
Some faces went pale. Some scoffed. Some looked relieved. because rules meant someone was actually in control.
Ludger didn’t smile.
“This is not a school,” he said. “It is not a charity. It is not a place to hide from your problems and make them everyone else’s.”
He pointed at the stone tablets again, like they were a contract with no loopholes.
“You came here to become stronger,” Ludger said. “Good. We can do that.”
His gaze hardened slightly.
“But if you came here to cause trouble,” he continued, “then you’ll discover something very fast.”
He paused, just long enough to make the next words bite.
“Lionfang does not need you.”
He stepped down from the platform, calm as stone.
“Now,” Ludger said, “we start with the only thing that matters.”
His eyes swept the line once more.
“Discipline.”
A voice rose from somewhere in the line.
“This doesn’t sound like a guild,” it said, loud enough to carry. “Sounds more like a military organization.”
Ludger’s eyes flicked across the crowd.
He searched for the speaker out of habit, pinpoint, isolate, measure.
But whoever it was had spoken and then vanished back into the bodies, hiding behind other faces like a coward throwing stones from a crowd.
Still, the comment had landed. Ludger saw it in the small nods, the faint shifts, people testing whether complaining was allowed here.
Ludger didn’t shout back. He just spoke, calm and clear, like he was correcting a mistake in a report.
“Most guilds don’t teach you how to read or write,” he said.
The line quieted a fraction.
“Most guilds don’t give you free food and housing while you train under them either,” Ludger continued. “Most guilds take your coin, take your labor, and if you die they replace you with the next desperate person.”
He let his gaze sweep the crowd again, flat and unimpressed.
“If you don’t agree with how we do it,” Ludger said, “no one is forcing you to stay.”
The murmurs died. Not because they suddenly loved his rules. Because he’d made the choice simple: accept structure, or leave. Ludger turned his head slightly and looked toward the edge of the yard.
Renn. Marie. Bramm. Jorin. Tali.
Five people he trusted to enforce without ego, and to stay calm when idiots tried to turn “training” into “politics.”
They met his eyes. They got the message. Ludger faced the newcomers again.
“Good,” he said. “Then we start.”
He pointed toward the open stretch beyond the yard.
“It’s time to run.”
A few faces brightened like they thought this was easy. A few faces tightened like they already knew it wasn’t. The line began to move, boots scraping, bodies flowing into a rough pack as the first jog started.
Ludger walked alongside the edge of the group for a few steps, then fell back toward his five.
He spoke low enough that only they could hear.
“Keep an eye on anyone suspicious,” Ludger said. “Anyone doing suspicious things. Anyone trying to raise doubts in others.”
Renn nodded once, already scanning. Marie’s eyes tracked hands and posture. Bramm’s jaw set like a gate. Jorin watched the older trainees like they were a problem waiting to happen. Tali’s gaze stayed sharp and quiet.
Tali leaned closer. “What do we do with them?”
Ludger didn’t hesitate.
“Tell them to leave,” he said. “You have that authority.”
Tali blinked once. “Just… tell them?”
“Yes,” Ludger replied flatly. “We’re not debating. We’re not negotiating.”
He watched the jogging crowd, then added, crisp and practical.
“Don’t hesitate. Some people need examples to understand how this works.”
Tali’s eyes narrowed. “Examples?”
Ludger counted them off like drill points.
“If someone refuses a direct order from an instructor,” he said, “they leave.”
“If someone tries to start a fight outside the ring,” he continued, “they leave.”
“If someone is caught bullying, or sabotaging gear, spreading rumors to break discipline,” Ludger’s gaze sharpened, “they leave.”
He paused a beat.
“And if someone keeps whispering complaints to poison the group, but won’t say it openly?” Ludger said. “They leave. I don’t need rats. I need trainees.”
Bramm grunted, satisfied. “Clear.”
Marie’s voice was quiet. “And if they argue?”
“Then they argue outside the gate,” Ludger said. “Not inside the yard.You can throw a few punches at them, you have the strength to do so.”
Jorin’s lips twitched. “You think we’ll actually have to throw people out today?”
Ludger looked at the two hundred running bodies.
“There’s always someone,” he said calmly. “Better it happens early. The rest will learn fast.”
Tali nodded slowly, absorbing it, then asked the real question.
“And if someone looks suspicious but hasn’t done anything yet?”
“Watch,” Ludger said. “Test them. Give them simple orders and see if they obey. Pair them with steady people. If they try to pull others off course, you cut them out.”
He met Tali’s eyes directly.
“We’re building a machine,” Ludger said. “You don’t keep broken parts because you feel bad.”
Tali’s expression hardened into understanding.
“Understood,” she said.
Ludger nodded once, then turned his attention back to the running trainees. The first lap was already thinning the line. Not because they were weak. Because discipline was heavier than people expected. And Ludger had no intention of letting two hundred strangers turn his guild into a problem he’d have to solve later with blood.
Ludger left the training yard with the familiar feeling of his mind already reaching for the next step.
More housing. More helpers. Screening. Training schedules. The repair shop problem. The spring-water route. The underwater gear list. Twenty headed south. Two hundred in the yard. A town growing so fast it was starting to feel like a living creature he had to keep fed.
He was halfway across the guild courtyard when he saw them.
Raukor.
And behind him, the three Primal Groves beastmen scouts, Harkun, Ragan, Sivra, walking with that quiet aura that made most humans instinctively stop talking.
They were headed straight toward the guild. Straight toward him. Ludger slowed.
He’d had business with Raukor he’d been putting aside for too long, because there was always something burning hotter, something screaming louder, something trying to annoy them faster. He’d told himself he’d handle it later.
Apparently, later had arrived. Raukor stopped a few steps away and dipped his head slightly.
“Vice Guildmaster,” he said. “Sorry to bother you while you are busy with work.”
Ludger shook his head once.
“No,” he said. “Speak.”
Raukor’s expression stayed blunt and unreadable, but there was a heaviness behind his words now. The kind that meant this wasn’t about tools or forging schedules.
“It is time,” Raukor said, “for us to talk about why I didn’t tell you about the Spider Queen.”
That sentence landed like a stone in Ludger’s gut.
No surprise, he’d already suspected there was more to it. More than “few people know” and “panic.” More than Raukor’s usual practical silence.
But hearing Raukor name it so directly made it real again. Made it urgent. Ludger’s gaze flicked briefly to the three scouts.
Why were they here? Why did they follow Raukor for this? For a moment, he considered asking. Then he decided against it.
If they were present, they were present for a reason. And if he asked in the open, he’d get an answer in the open. He didn’t want that.
“Come,” Ludger said instead.
He turned and led them into the guildhall without ceremony, passing through corridors that still smelled faintly of sweat. He chose an empty room near the back, plain stone walls, no windows, a single table, quiet enough that you could hear if anyone lingered outside.
He closed the door behind them.
Only then did he look at Raukor again, face calm.
“Alright,” Ludger said. “Talk.”
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