All Jobs and Classes! I Just Wanted One Skill, Not Them All!

Chapter 574

Arslan lifted a hand, ticking points off with his fingers.

“First: authority. A Viscount doesn’t beg ministers for permission. A Viscount has legal weight. You can enforce things instead of negotiating every time someone wants to test you.”

“Second: manpower. A territory comes with obligations, but it also comes with resources, levies, guards, an organized force. An army that answers to you. Not mercenaries. Not temporary contracts. People who are sworn.”

His jaw tightened slightly as his eyes flicked toward Elaine, then back to Ludger.

“Third: stability. For your mother. For the twins.” His voice got a shade softer, but the conviction stayed. “If something happens, if the Empire decides Lionfang is inconvenient, or if some rival house tries to cut us out, being nobility changes the rules. We stop being a frontier guild they can erase quietly.”

He leaned in, voice low, like the walls might be listening.

“And if anything happens to your mother or the twins… there’s a big chance the Empire moves to protect them. Not out of kindness. Because they protect their own. Because a Viscount being attacked is a political problem, and they hate problems they don’t control.”

That was Torvares’ point. A title was armor. Ugly armor, but armor all the same. Ludger listened without reacting, face calm. Then he spoke.

“And the demerits are also obvious.”

Arslan’s mouth twitched. “Of course they are.”

Ludger’s arms crossed again, a familiar posture, self-contained, braced.

“Accepting makes us part of their structure,” Ludger said. “It puts hooks in us. Legal ones. Social ones.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “They don’t give a Viscount title and expect him to stay on the edge. They expect him to attend councils. To respond to summons. To explain himself when he builds something the wrong people notice.”

He tapped the decree lightly.

“Politics becomes mandatory,” Ludger continued, tone flat, almost clinical. “Not the kind we’ve been doing, border deals, guild disputes, Torvares negotiations. This is imperial politics. Ministers. Houses. Favors. Debts you can’t pay with coin.”

His gaze sharpened.

“And once we’re inside, we can’t pretend to be irrelevant anymore.”

Arslan didn’t argue. Ludger kept going, because he wasn’t venting. He was laying out a map of consequences.

“They’ll demand more than rails, eventually,” he said. “More than bracers. They’ll want access to my methods. They’ll assign ‘assistants.’ They’ll ask me to train their people. They’ll start calling my work ‘national interest.’”

His voice didn’t rise, but the edge under it did.

“And if we refuse, it won’t be a border dispute anymore. It’ll be insubordination. Treason. A noble house ‘misbehaving.’”

Ludger’s eyes flicked briefly toward the corridor where the training pool was, where northerners were learning to fight underwater for a labyrinth that could kill half of them.

“And while we’re tied up in dinners and councils, we get pulled away from what actually keeps us alive,” Ludger said. “Lionfang. The northerners. The labyrinths. The real threats.”

He paused.

“A title protects,” Ludger admitted. “But it also chains.”

Arslan stared at him for a long moment, then let out another slow breath. In that silence, the problem became clear. Torvares was right. And Ludger was right.

Which meant the Regent’s offer was doing exactly what it was designed to do… making the “best choice” feel like two different kinds of loss. Ludger didn’t move for a second. He let the merits and demerits settle into place, like weights on a scale. Then he asked the only question that mattered.

“What did the Regent ask in return?”

Arslan’s expression tightened, the fatigue in his eyes turning sharper.

“He kept it simple,” Arslan said. “Simple enough that most people would hear it and think they’d won.”

Ludger didn’t blink. Arslan glanced at the decree, then back at his son.

“He asked for the loyalty of the Lionsguard to the Empire,” Arslan said. “Officially. Publicly. The kind of loyalty that gets written into ledgers and repeated in courts. He wants the Lionsguard to be an imperial asset instead of a border guild that happens to be useful.”

Yvar shifted slightly, like the words still tasted sour.

“And,” Arslan continued, “he wants help with the construction of the rails. Across the country.”

Ludger’s gaze sharpened, a fraction of ice settling behind his eyes.

Arslan lifted a hand, as if to preempt the obvious reaction. “He didn’t demand an exact schedule. He didn’t slap a deadline on it like a hammer. He said the routes would be discussed after we accepted or refused the agreement.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “After.”

Arslan nodded. “After. He said he wasn’t in a hurry. That he understood the cost, time, manpower, mana investment, cores. He even said—” Arslan’s mouth twisted, mimicking the Regent’s smooth cadence, “—that the Empire would not ‘waste’ a rare talent by forcing unreasonable demands.”

Yvar let out a quiet breath, half laugh, half cough.

Arslan shrugged, weary. “He was… polite. Understanding. Almost friendly.”

That was the dangerous part. Because men like that didn’t offer friendliness unless it was profitable. Ludger stared at the decree, then at his father, and felt his suspicion sharpen into something clean and focused. Nice words were cheap. Understanding was cheaper.

The Regent wasn’t in a hurry because he didn’t need to be. If Ludger said yes, the Empire got his rails and a leash on his throat. If Ludger said no, the Empire still had thirty different ways to make Lionfang choke, slowly, legally, and with everyone applauding the “necessary measures.”

Ludger squinted his eyes, the smallest tell he had.

“He’s not rushing,” Ludger said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “Because the offer isn’t the trap.”

Arslan’s brow furrowed. “Then what is?”

Ludger’s gaze stayed cold.

“The fact that either answer benefits him,” he said. “That’s the trap.”

Ludger’s eyes stayed on the decree, but his mind was already looking past it, past the ink, past the seals, past the “reasonable” tone.

“He’s asking for our loyalty because we have allies abroad,” Ludger said, voice calm, like he was explaining a simple mechanism. “And because he knows we’re useful without him.”

Arslan’s brow furrowed.

Ludger tapped the rolled parchment once. “Titles aren’t gifts. They’re anchors. If we become nobles, we stop being a guild that can pivot, negotiate, and deal with whoever keeps the border alive.”

He looked up, eyes narrowed slightly.

“We become imperial property with paperwork.”

Yvar’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. He’d seen the same shape of the tactic in the capital, only dressed in velvet.

“That’s exactly it,” Ludger continued. “He’s tying us to the Empire. If we swear loyalty and accept land, then any cooperation we have with foreign groups becomes… suspicious. It becomes treason-shaped. Even if it’s just trade, or mutual defense, or sharing information.”

Arslan’s jaw clenched. “So he turns our strength into a liability.”

“And calls it stability,” Ludger said, dry.

Yvar rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion leaking through for a second before he straightened again. “He also made a point of saying he was willing to follow your pace on the rails,” he added. “No pressure. No forced quota. He repeated it several times, like he wanted us to carry the message back as proof of how… cooperative he is.”

Ludger’s gaze sharpened. “Charitable.”

“Very,” Yvar said, voice flat with disbelief. “He framed it as generosity. He even acknowledged the cost in mana, the time, the manpower. He said he understood that you couldn’t be rushed.”

Arslan snorted quietly. “Understanding men are always the most dangerous.”

Ludger nodded once. “Because they’re not being patient out of kindness.”

He leaned back slightly, arms crossing again, posture relaxed, but the feeling in the area wasn’t.

“If he’s willing to match our pace,” Ludger said, “then it means he doesn’t need the rails tomorrow.”

Yvar’s eyes flicked to him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning he’s planning ahead,” Ludger said. “Long logistics. Long campaigns. The kind that only matter if he expects the Empire to be moving armies across large distances.”

Yvar hesitated, then said it anyway. “He’s probably planning to fight other nations soon.”

Silence.

Not shock, just the quiet click of a lock turning.

Yvar continued, voice lower. “The way he talked about ‘strategic routes’… it wasn’t about trade. It was about movement. Control. Fast deployment. Supply lines that don’t crumble.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “And he’s building a list of assets.”

“Exactly,” Yvar said. “A list that includes us.”

Arslan’s hand tightened on the table edge. “Even with the Rodericks and Verk still missing.”

Yvar’s expression soured. “That’s the part that bothers me. Those two are still… unresolved. No public explanation. No official closure. Just absence.”

Ludger didn’t like unresolved absences. They were the kind of gaps that hid knives. He stared at the imperial seal again, then slowly exhaled.

“So,” Ludger said, voice even, “he’s offering us a crown made of paper, asking for loyalty with a smile, and promising patience… because he’s stacking the board for a war that hasn’t started yet.”

He looked at Arslan and Yvar.

“And he wants the Lionsguard nailed to his side before the first sword leaves its sheath.”

Arslan leaned back, the chair creaking under him. For a moment he just looked at Ludger the way a man looked at a map he didn’t like, knowing the roads were real whether he approved of them or not.

“I understand your point of view,” Arslan said finally, voice tired but honest.

He glanced at Yvar, then back at Ludger.

“So what do we do?” Arslan asked. “Dismiss the offer?”

Ludger didn’t answer immediately. He went quiet in that particular way of his, no fidgeting, no noise, no wasted motion. Just stillness while his mind moved. He stared at the decree, at the seals, at the neat imperial script that promised stability while sharpening its teeth.

A few heartbeats passed. Then Ludger spoke.

“I’ll cooperate,” he said.

Arslan blinked once.

“…If,” Ludger added, tone unchanged, “I’m given unrestricted access to the sealed labyrinths of the Empire.”

The words landed like a stone dropped into a calm pond.

Arslan’s brow rose. Yvar, for his part, looked like his soul tried to leave his body. He brought a hand up halfway, stopped, and slowly lowered it again, as if realizing facepalming wouldn’t fix what he’d just heard.

Ludger kept going, as if he’d just suggested buying bread.

“Not permission slips. Not escorted tours. Not ‘limited research access.’ I want the right to enter any imperial labyrinth with my people, take contracts inside them, and keep what we earn.” His eyes stayed on Arslan. “If they want rails and loyalty, I want growth. Power. Materials. Information.”

Arslan’s mouth opened, then closed again. “You want the Empire to hand you their greatest strategic resources.”

“Yes,” Ludger said simply. “Because they’re asking for ours.”

Yvar finally exhaled, long and pained, rubbing a hand down his face like he was trying to wipe off the entire conversation.

“Ludger…” Yvar said, voice strained. “That’s—”

“A fair trade,” Ludger cut in, calm. “They get logistics. I get progress.”

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