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

The thought landed cleanly enough that the rest of the table blurred for half a second around it. That was the correct next step.

Not because he expected to create people on his level. That would be ridiculous. Teaching someone enough geomancy to match him would take forever even if they were talented, obsessed, and lucky.

But he didn’t need more Ludgers. He needed usable geomancers. People who could shape roads. Raise foundations. Reinforce walls. Flatten land. Move earth in practical volumes. Support construction, mining, transport, frontier expansion, and eventually battlefield engineering if it came to that.

A geomancy corps small enough to train properly but large enough to multiply Lionsguard’s reach far beyond what one person, even him, should have to carry alone.

Ludger stared down at his food for a second longer.

Arslan noticed first. That was normal. Then Elaine noticed Arslan noticing. Also normal.

Arslan said, “That look means you either had a very good idea or a very dangerous one.”

Ludger looked up.

“Both, probably.”

Elaine sighed softly.

“That answer is becoming more troubling every year.”

The next day, Ludger went to the guild looking for Gaius. He found him in the entrance hall. Or, more specifically, he found him doing what looked like absolutely nothing productive alongside Renvar, Kaela, and Kharnek.

Which, somehow, already felt suspicious.

Morning light was spilling in through the front of the hall, making the whole scene look far more normal than it should have. Gaius was leaning back with the kind of relaxed posture that only people with too much natural confidence could make look legitimate. Kaela stood nearby with the air of someone who had already realized things were going badly and was deciding whether fleeing now would count as wisdom or cowardice. Renvar…

Renvar looked like he was about to throw up. And Kharnek, massive as ever, looked entirely too pleased with himself. Ludger took one look at the setup and understood immediately.

Apparently Kharnek still had not given up on his beloved tradition of challenging guild members to drinking contests until the other person vomited.

Even though it was early in the morning. Which was, in Ludger’s opinion, a crime against sense and possibly also the stomach.

Renvar was pale enough to make the answer obvious before anyone even spoke. His eyes looked unfocused, his posture was too rigid, and there was a very specific sort of stubborn misery on his face that only appeared when a man had tried too hard not to lose in front of northerners and was now paying for it with interest.

Kaela noticed Ludger first.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she immediately said, “Run.”

Then, with the flat urgency of someone warning others about an incoming natural disaster, she added, “The Vice Guildmaster will scold us for drinking first thing in the morning.”

Ludger looked at her. Then at the rest of them.

Then said, “You can do whatever you want with your free time. As long as you assume responsibility for the consequences.”

That made Kaela blink once. Apparently she had expected more immediate condemnation. Kharnek barked out a laugh, clearly approving of that answer.

Gaius grinned. Renvar, unfortunately, looked like even that brief relief might push him over the edge physically.

Ludger’s gaze rested on him for half a second. Then moved on. Because yes, this was stupid. But it was also their problem. And if Renvar wanted to challenge northern drinking pride before breakfast, then the consequences belonged to him.

Gaius eventually pushed himself a little more upright and looked at Ludger with open curiosity.

“What did you come for?” he asked.

His tone was light, but there was a real question underneath it. Because Ludger usually did not come down just to talk. Usually he was too busy overworking himself to death in a useful direction. If he was here now, then he had a purpose.

Ludger nodded slightly and said, “I came to talk to you.”

That made Gaius’s brows rise a fraction. Ludger didn’t waste time dressing it up.

“I’m asking again,” he said. “Are you really fine with letting me teach others geomancy?”

That cut through the light mood a bit.

Not completely. Kharnek still looked amused by existence in general, and Renvar still looked like he might die before noon. But Gaius’s expression sharpened all the same, because that was not a small question.

It was one thing to let Ludger learn. Another thing entirely to let the knowledge spread from there. Gaius studied him for a second before answering.

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“I am,” he said.

Ludger remained still, waiting for the rest. Gaius gave it to him.

“As long as the people you teach don’t do stupid things with it,” he said, “and don’t dirty the name of my family’s style of magic.”

That answer settled cleanly. Fair conditions. More than fair, honestly.

Because it meant Gaius was not clinging to the art out of petty possessiveness or trying to act like a jealous gatekeeper now that Ludger had proven how far he could take it. He just didn’t want some idiot turning his family’s geomancy into the signature of criminals, cowards, or sloppy fools who used it badly enough to stain the lineage behind it.

Reasonable. Ludger nodded once.

“That’s fine.”

Gaius looked at him a little more seriously now.

“You already picked people?”

“Not yet.”

“Good,” Gaius said. “Then pick carefully.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed faintly.

“I was planning to.”

Gaius snorted.

“I know. But planning to and actually doing it are different things once people start looking useful from a distance.” He leaned forward slightly. “Geomancy makes people dangerous in ways they don’t understand at first. It’s not just moving dirt around. It teaches control, pressure, structure, and how to think in terms of shaping an environment instead of just standing in it.”

Kharnek, clearly only half interested in the finer magical theory and half interested in whether Renvar would survive, still rumbled, “Useful in war.”

Gaius nodded.

“And in building,” he said. “And in destroying. And in making people think the ground itself belongs to them.”

Ludger said nothing. Because yes. That was exactly why he wanted to spread the practical version of it inside Lionsguard.

Kaela, who had clearly realized by now that no scolding was coming and therefore felt brave enough to remain present, tilted her head and asked, “So you really are going to make more little wall-builders?”

Ludger looked at her.

“Road-builders too.”

That made Gaius grin slightly.

“There it is,” he said. “The real reason.”

“Money,” Ludger said.

Kharnek laughed again.

“Yes,” he said. “Now that sounds like a proper guild answer.”

Renvar, still looking deeply unwell, managed a weak lift of his head and muttered, “Can the first lesson be how to make the ground stop spinning?”

Kaela actually laughed at that. Ludger ignored him and looked back at Gaius.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t want a large group yet. Just enough to start multiplying useful labor for Lionsguard. Construction. Roads. Reinforcement. Maybe fortifications later.”

Gaius nodded slowly.

“That’s the right way to do it.”

Then he added, “And don’t teach them the good parts too early.”

Ludger’s expression stayed flat.

“That narrows it down very little.”

Gaius smirked.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Kharnek laughed so hard at that that Renvar looked like he nearly lost his battle against breakfast permanently.

And standing there in the guild hall, with one northerner ready to die from drink, one amused geomancer, one sharp-eyed woman already too entertained, and a chieftain who thought vomiting contests built character, Ludger realized that the first step was settled.

Now he just had to choose who would be allowed to learn how to move the world.

After that, Ludger headed to the training grounds. The place was already active. Of course it was.

Even with the sun still not too high, the instructors were already out there working the trainees hard enough that the whole yard carried the familiar rhythm of effort, boots grinding dirt, shouted corrections, wooden weapons striking, magic flaring in small controlled bursts, and the steady noise of people trying to become more useful than they had been yesterday.

Ludger slowed slightly as he approached. He could teach the actual guild recruits later. That would matter more in the long run. But for a first test, this was better. The trainees were still in the phase where habits formed quickly and breaking them wouldn’t ruin anything important yet. If he wanted to test how teachable certain fundamentals were, starting here made more sense than throwing the idea straight into the deeper guild structure.

Tali noticed him first. As usual.

She straightened slightly from where she had been correcting one of the younger trainees and asked, “Are you planning to change the schedule a bit for the training?”

Ludger didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just watched the five instructors. The first kids he had taught from scratch. That still felt a little strange every time he remembered it.

Not because they were bad. Quite the opposite. Because they were now standing here as actual instructors, correcting posture, drilling basics, and carrying pieces of what he had hammered into them forward into others.

And, unfortunately, they were also the founding members of Viola’s fan club. There was no real fan club, obviously. No banner. No secret meetings. No ridiculous oath.

But they did admire her enough that, if someone someday made such a thing, these five would absolutely be there at the beginning arguing over who got to write the rules.

He looked at the trainees again, then said, “The trainees can keep training.”

Tali blinked once.

Ludger added, “I want to talk to you five instead.”

That made all of them straighten a little more.

Partly because the Vice Guildmaster calling them aside usually meant something important, and partly because Ludger did not often waste time on special conversations unless he intended to either add work, extract results, or both.

Tali gave a short nod and signaled the others quickly. The trainees kept working, a little more nervously now that Ludger was standing nearby, while the five instructors pulled back toward him.

Once they were close enough, Ludger looked between them and asked, “Are you making progress with the other versions of Overdrive?”

That got their full attention immediately. Good. Because if he was going to test who among them could be pushed further, then this mattered.

Marie answered first.

“We can use Aqua Overdrive and Flame Overdrive,” she said. “Not perfectly, but well enough to activate them cleanly now.”

Ludger nodded faintly. That was solid.

Marie continued, “We’re learning Windy Overdrive slowly.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed just a little at the phrasing but he let it pass for now. Wind Overdrive was trickier in practice than some people expected. Less raw than flame. Less stable than water. It required rhythm and bodily timing people often ruined by overthinking.

Then Bramm added, “But we can’t make any progress with Earthen Overdrive.”

That made the answer click into place immediately. Ludger nodded once. That made sense. They didn’t know a single earth spell.