I emerged from the treeline, my boots crunching softly on the gravel path. I didn't say a word. I didn't reach for a weapon or demand an explanation. I simply adjusted my spectacles and walked toward Avaris, my face calm—the face of a man who had already calculated the outcome before the first word was spoken.
Avaris, who had just stared down one of the most dangerous men in the Empire without blinking, suddenly looked like a student caught skipping class. As I got closer, her eyes started darting around, and the words began to spill out of her in a frantic, uncharacteristic rush.
"Ilyas! You... you heard that, right? The part where I told him I didn't like him? Because I really, truly don't. I mean, look at him! He's so... dramatic. And that cloak? Terribly impractical for the North. I rejected him years ago, and I'd do it again! It was a professional rejection, but also very personal! You're not misunderstood, are you? Because there is absolutely no comparison, and I—"
She was babbling. The woman who could track a wolf through a blizzard was currently tripping over her own tongue.
"Ilyas, I live for this home," she continued, her hands gesturing wildly toward our cottage. "I live for you and the children! He's just a ghost, a boring, imperial ghost! You're the only one I... I mean, the silt! Think of the silt, Ilyas! I love the silt because you love the silt!"
Beside the path, Arin and Lysa stood completely dumbfounded. They had never seen their mother—the woman who once took down three practice dummies in four seconds—look so utterly flustered.
"Is... is Mother okay?" Arin whispered, leaning toward Lysa. "She just said she loves silt."
"Observation," Lysa replied, her voice dry as parchment. "Emotional distress has caused a temporary collapse of her linguistic structural integrity. It appears the 'Sentry' is currently experiencing a total system reboot."
I didn't let her finish her next sentence about the thermal properties of tea. I simply stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a firm, steady hug. The scent of pine and iron that always followed her seemed to soften against my wool vest.
"Avaris," I whispered into her hair, my voice warm and laced with a hint of a smile. "Stop. You don't have to overthink it. I know you only love me. I've known it since the day you decided my 'boring' lectures were better than a commander's promises."
Avaris went still. The frantic energy left her shoulders, and she finally let out a long, shaky breath, burying her face in my shoulder. "You're a very annoying man, Ilyas Verne," she muttered, her voice muffled by my coat.
"I know," I said, patting her back. "It's my most consistent trait. Now, shall we go home? I believe we have some very 'boring' biscuits waiting for us, and the children look like they've seen a ghost—mostly because of your sudden interest in soil science."
The Walk Home
As we walked back toward the cottage, the four of us in a line, the shadow of the Merchant felt remarkably small. Avaris kept sneaking side-glances at me, as if checking to make sure I wasn't secretly upset, while I hummed a tuneless song about bridge architecture.
"Father?" Lysa asked as we reached the gate. "In your professional opinion, does Mother actually love silt?"
"In my professional opinion, Lysa," I said, winking at Avaris, "she loves the man who measures it. And that is a much more stable foundation."
The Porridge of Penance
The tension of the bridge had transformed into something much more... domestic, yet infinitely more chaotic. Back at the cottage, the "Master of Mud" was currently being treated like a king, much to the confusion of the junior "Stones."
Dinner was usually a structured affair, but tonight, the structural integrity of our routine had completely collapsed. Avaris wasn't just sitting at the table; she was hovering.
"Ilyas, have another spoonful of the stew," she said, her voice unusually airy as she literally held the spoon to my mouth. "It's high in iron. You need iron for all that... brilliant thinking you do. And more bread? I've toasted it to the exact thermal crispness you like."
I sat there, frozen with my mouth half-open, while Arin and Lysa stared at us like we were a pair of strange, exotic insects. Arin's spoon stopped halfway to his face, a bit of broth dripping back into his bowl.
"Father," Arin whispered, "is Mother trying to... hydrate you? Or is this a new form of Northern interrogation?"
"Observation," Lysa noted, her eyes darting between Avaris's frantic serving and my bewildered face. "Mother's guilt-to-service ratio has exceeded 200%. It appears she is trying to bury the memory of the Merchant under a mountain of root vegetables."
"Avaris, love," I said, gently taking the spoon from her hand and placing it back in the bowl. "I have two perfectly functional hands. And I promise you, I am not upset. I found the whole bridge encounter quite... educational."
"Educational?!" she squeaked, grabbing a napkin and wiping a non-existent crumb from my chin. "It was a disaster! I should have handled it better. You're the only one, Ilyas. The only Architect, the only scholar, the only man! I don't even remember what that other guy looks like. Was he tall? I think he was short. Tiny, really. A dwarf compared to your—"
"He was at least six-foot-four, Mother," Lysa interrupted helpfully.
"He was a speck of dust!" Avaris corrected loudly, stuffing a piece of bread into my hand.
I looked at my children, who were now just openly laughing. I gave them a small, knowing smile. "It's alright. Your mother is just... reinforcing the foundation tonight."
The Architect's Promise
Later, when the house was quiet and the children were tucked away in their rooms, the "essay" continued. The moonlight spilled across our bed, but Avaris wasn't sleeping. She was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, her words tripping over each other in the dark.
"And another thing," she whispered, her hand gripping mine so tight it was cuting off the circulation to my thumb. "The Imperial Army didn't understand. They thought power was about rank. But you... you built that bookshelf in the hall even though the wood was warped. You stayed up all night when Arin had that fever three years ago. That's the real strength, Ilyas. If you ever thought for a second that I looked at him and felt anything but a desire to shove him off that bridge—"
"Avaris," I said softly, but she was on a roll.
"—because you are the world I built. You are the map I follow now. If I lost you, there wouldn't be enough silt in the world to fill the—"
I didn't let her finish the geological metaphor. I leaned forward and kissed her, a slow, deep silence that finally forced her brain to stop its frantic circling. When I pulled back, her eyes were wide and shimmering, the fierce Sentry finally replaced by the woman who just wanted to be home.
I reached up, cupping her face with both hands, my thumbs brushing away the trace of anxiety in her expression.
"Avaris Verne," I said, my voice steady and filled with the absolute certainty of a mathematical proof. "You don't need to feel anxious. You don't need to feed me stew until I burst or write a thesis on why I'm better than a Commander. I am the Architect of this family, and I know a solid structure when I see one."
I leaned my forehead against hers. "I promise you, right here and now: I will never leave you. Not for the Empire, not for the North, and certainly not because of a ghost on a bridge. You are my anchor. I'm not going anywhere."
Avaris finally let out a long, shuddering breath, her body losing that rigid combat-readiness for the first time all day. She leaned into me, resting her head on my chest.
"Promise?" she whispered.
"It's written in the blueprints," I replied, holding her close. "And those, as you know, are final."
The family is safe, the hearts are mended, and the "Boring" facade is stronger than ever. But a new day is coming.