Ludger didn’t show a single awkward shift. Not one stupid glance. Not even the slight delay most men had when they were trying too hard to pretend they weren’t looking.
Nothing. It was unnatural.
Arslan had always assumed all men were, at the core, more or less built like him in that regard. Maybe with different levels of discipline, sure, but the same basic problem underneath. Like there was some mysterious and powerful force in the world that made a man’s eyes want to drift toward a woman’s chest or ass if he didn’t actively wrestle them into behaving.
That was just reality, as far as he knew. A burden. A trial. Possibly a curse. And yet his son sat there like none of that existed.
Like he had simply skipped that weakness during development. Arslan narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched Ludger answer another question in that same maddeningly stable tone.
Maybe the boy really was broken.
Or maybe Elaine had raised him so aggressively well that some essential male failing had just been strangled out of him before it had time to bloom. Honestly, either possibility felt believable.
Arslan exhaled through his nose and kept watching, still caught somewhere between concern, disbelief, and the weird sense that he was witnessing a phenomenon that deserved study more than judgment.
Because really… How was that normal?
Elira was right there, bright-eyed, leaning forward, clearly interested, and Ludger was treating the situation with the exact same composure he would have used for a supply report or a weather update.
It was deeply suspicious behavior. At this point, Arslan wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or worried. The front door of the guild slammed open hard enough to echo through the hall.
Not pushed. Kicked. Arslan’s head turned toward it at once. And there she was. Maris.
She stood framed in the doorway for a brief second, broad evening light at her back, her expression cold enough that the temperature in the room seemed to drop a little just from her presence. Then she started walking straight toward them without slowing, boots striking the old floor with the kind of sharp, certain rhythm that made it obvious she had never been the sort of woman who entered a room quietly unless she wanted to.
Arslan didn’t move right away. Mostly because he already knew that anything he did in the next few seconds would probably be wrong. Maris looked much like the letter had sounded. Sharp.
Aged well in the dangerous way that didn’t soften anything worth fearing. Her dark hair was tied back roughly, a few loose strands sticking to the side of her face from sweat or movement, and there was enough silver mixed in now to make it clear time had passed without making her look lesser for it. If anything, it only added weight. Her features were strong rather than delicate, her mouth set in a line that looked natural on her, and her eyes… Her eyes were exactly the kind Arslan remembered.
Cool, direct, and entirely too capable of making a man feel like prey if she focused on him too long.
She was still broad through the shoulders, still carried herself like someone used to fighting personally instead of directing everything from the rear, and her clothes reflected that. Not noble wear, not decorative guildmaster nonsense, but practical gear built for movement and command: dark leather, reinforced layers, a half-fastened coat that showed signs of recent use, and gauntlets still dusted faintly with dry gray grit that probably came from the labyrinth.
And, yes… Arslan noticed immediately what he had already been unhelpfully warning Ludger about earlier.
Maris was still very much Maris. The years had changed many things. That was not one of them. The resemblance between mother and daughter really was uncanny.
She stopped in front of the table and looked first at Arslan, then at Ludger, her cold gaze moving between father and son with the sort of assessing sharpness that felt only half social and half like she was deciding where best to stab.
Then she opened her mouth and said, “The resemblance is uncanny.”
Ludger, calm as ever, replied, “You took the words out of my mouth.”
Arslan facepalmed immediately. Because of course that was what his son chose to say. And of course Maris did not take it the right way. Her eyes narrowed at once, all the cold restraint in her face shifting into something flatter and far more dangerous.
“Oh?” she said.
Arslan kept his hand over part of his face for a second longer, already feeling the first wave of an incoming headache.
Yes. This was going exactly as badly as he had expected. Before the tension could settle any further, Elira rose from her seat quickly enough to nearly bump the table.
“Mother, welcome back,” she said, her voice bright in a way that was just a little too deliberate. Not forced exactly, but close enough that anyone paying attention could tell she was trying to guide the room away from disaster before it properly began. Then she added, with the same eager energy, “We were just talking about the jobs the Lionsguard has taken. They were pretty interesting.”
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Maris’ gaze shifted to her daughter for the briefest moment.
Then it returned to Ludger.
“Were they?” she asked, still looking directly at him.
Ludger gave a small shrug, like the entire matter was too ordinary to deserve much emphasis.
“I don’t know what was so interesting about them,” he said. “I liked the part where we received payment the most.”
For a short moment, silence hung there. Then Maris laughed. It wasn’t loud.
Just a small, dry laugh that slipped out before she seemed to fully decide whether she wanted to allow it. But it was enough to crack the sharper edge in the room and let some of the pressure bleed away.
She looked at Arslan out of the corner of her eye. “He inherited your sense of humor, Arslan.”
Arslan snorted and shook his head at once. “No. Don’t put that on me.” He gestured lazily toward Ludger. “He’d already been a smartass from the first time I met him.”
Ludger’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Maris’ mouth twitched faintly at that, not quite a smile, but close enough to count. Elira, meanwhile, looked between the three of them with growing focus.
At first, when Ludger and Arslan had arrived, she had clearly been excited in a simpler way. A famous guest. A rising guild. A name she had heard in stories and reports suddenly sitting in front of her in real life. But now the shape of the room had changed. The moment her mother entered, the air had shifted into something denser, layered with old history, old habits, and a kind of friction that didn’t come from strangers trying to be polite.
And Elira noticed all of it.
The way her mother’s cold entrance had sharpened the hall without a single threat being spoken. The way Arslan had facepalmed like a man already familiar with his own incoming suffering. The way Ludger, somehow, had stayed completely calm through all of it and answered her mother with the same dry, unbothered tone he had used with Elira herself.
That was probably the strangest part. Most people changed around Maris. Even capable people.
They either stiffened, tried too hard, got defensive, or started measuring every word like they were walking over thin ice. Ludger hadn’t done any of that. He hadn’t challenged her directly, but he also hadn’t softened. He was just... there. Stable. Like he had already decided he would not be moved around by the mood of the room unless there was a practical reason for it.
Elira’s eyes lingered on him for half a second longer than necessary.
Then they flicked toward Arslan. That was where the second layer of interest lived.
Because whatever had happened between her mother and Arslan in the past, it was clearly substantial enough that neither of them could fully hide it even now. Not affection exactly. Not simple irritation either. Something older than both. Sharper in places, worn down in others, but still alive enough that one glance or one sentence could make the whole thing visible if you knew where to look.
And that meant the room had become far more interesting than she had expected only minutes ago.
For someone like Elira, who clearly liked stories, people, and the hidden structure behind both, that was probably irresistible.
Her expression didn’t become childish or obvious. It just sharpened. More alert. More curious. More aware that she was watching something with a lot more moving parts than she had first assumed.
In other words, she had the look of someone who had just realized this entire situation was likely to be both troublesome and entertaining. And, judging by the light still lingering in her eyes, she wasn’t upset about that at all.
Ludger rose from his seat without hesitation.
The movement itself was simple, but it shifted the balance of the room a little. Elira straightened instinctively. Arslan looked up with the tired caution of a man who had already suffered enough surprises for one day. Maris stayed where she was, watching him with that same cool, measuring gaze.
Then Ludger extended a hand toward her.
“My name is Ludger Graves,” he said. “Vice Guildmaster of the Lionsguard.”
Maris looked at the offered hand for a moment.
She didn’t say anything.
But after a brief pause, she accepted the handshake.
Her grip was firm. Not excessive. Just steady enough to make it clear she wasn’t interested in games of strength or softness.
Ludger met her eyes evenly and continued.
“I also wanted to apologize for my father’s behavior in the past.”
That made Arslan stiffen immediately.
Ludger, of course, kept going.
“He got a bit better over the years after shouldering enough responsibility,” he said in the same flat tone, “but you’re free to bully him as much as you want. My mother gave you her blessing.”
Arslan stared at him in betrayal.
“Luds!” he said. “You traitor.”
That got a short snort out of Maris.
Not a full laugh, but enough to show the line had landed.
Then she let go of Ludger’s hand and gave him a cooler look, one sharpened again by thought rather than amusement.
“Your half-sister was a noble, wasn’t she?” she said. “So perhaps you picked up some lessons on how to charm others.”
Her mouth moved faintly, almost a smile and not kind at all.
“I won’t fall for it.”
Ludger didn’t react.
Which, somehow, made the answer land better than if he had tried to deny it.
Maris stepped a little closer.
Enough that only he would clearly hear the next words.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“If you do anything to my daughter,” she said, “I will kill you and your father.”
Arslan, thankfully, was far enough not to catch that.
Elira also seemed not to have heard, though her eyes narrowed slightly, noticing the closeness if not the content.
Ludger looked at Maris without flinching.
Then he answered in the same quiet tone.
“While I am my father’s son,” he said, “I kept the best parts of him.” His gaze remained calm. “And I have my mother’s good sense. So I won’t do anything stupid.”
Maris studied him for half a second longer.
Ludger stepped back just enough to restore the proper distance between them and said, this time for everyone to hear, “Rather than keep talking here, I’ll head to the labyrinth. You can discuss things with my father.”