As they walked out to the crowd of onlookers, they stopped in the park that had been so formative to Vaeliyan, Jurpat, and the rest of the people in Mara. The air carried the smell of wet stone and iron bark from the trees, a kind of scent that had never left his memory. Vaeliyan decided that it was his now. It might as well be. He wanted it, and no one would argue with him. His house rested in the middle of that park, towering and alive, its walls humming faintly with the low thrum of Legion tech buried beneath organic roots. It felt alive, like something watching over them. His home was home again.

When he looked toward the crowd, he saw Wren and Belthea stepping onto the estate. For a second, everything else disappeared. He ran to them without hesitation, boots cutting through the grass, armorless but still moving like he expected a fight. The rest of the Complaints Department followed behind him with more care, moving in a tight formation born of habit. Only Jurpat kept pace beside him, a native of Mara himself. The others looked out of place. Even dressed casually, they carried themselves like weapons, toned, balanced, dangerous. Their eyes scanned the perimeter, and even now, their movements were measured. They looked like they could chew through steel and beat a man to death with his own limbs, which was the truth at this point. Still, there was hesitation in their eyes, the awkwardness of soldiers standing in a childhood memory that wasn't theirs.

Vaeliyan slowed as he reached his wife and daughter. Wren's smile hit him like sunlight. She stood in the same spot he'd left her years ago, unchanged except for the warmth in her eyes and the child in her arms. "Everyone," he said, catching his breath and forcing down the nervous energy building in his chest, "this is my wife, Wren, and this is my daughter, Belthea."

The group straightened unconsciously, their movements disciplined. Belthea hid her face against Wren's shoulder as Wren offered a small nod to the team. A ripple of motion went through them—hands lifted in half-salutes, heads bowed slightly. None of them really knew how to greet a wife or a child. This wasn't a battlefield. There were no rules for this.

Vaeliyan turned, pointing down the line. "Starting from the last, that big bastard there is Elian," Vaeliyan said with a crooked grin. "He's the second-strongest person in the squad after me. Also, he's the heir of House Sarn."

Elian raised an eyebrow. "We haven't tested that in a while."

Vaeliyan shot him a look. "You really want to try it?"

Elian smirked. "Not today."

He moved on, laughing under his breath. "Next to him is the best shot I've ever met, Fenn. Don't let his dumb face fool you, he's actually a really competent soldier."

Fenn folded his arms, pretending to be offended. "I'll outshoot you any day, captain."

"Don't call me that," Vaeliyan said automatically.

Everyone else, nearly in unison, said, "Captain."

Vaeliyan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Whatever."

He gestured again. "Next to him is Sylen, Vaeliyan cousin. So, she's family."

Sylen gave Wren a shy little wave, her usual calm softened by obvious nerves. Wren smiled back and stepped forward, handing Belthea to Vaeliyan. The little girl blinked up at him, confusion turning her mouth downward. Then came the tears. He froze, uncertain, the weight of his daughter feeling heavier than any weapon he had ever held. "What do I do?" he muttered.

"She does that with strangers," Wren said gently, adjusting the curls out of Belthea's face.

"That's what I'm worried about," he said softly, eyes fixed on his crying daughter. "I'm her father. I shouldn't be a stranger."

"You won't be," Wren said, brushing his arm. "Just hold her for a moment. I need to hug your cousin."

Sylen stiffened as Wren wrapped her in a hug. The moment caught Sylen off guard; she froze, then exhaled slowly, returning it. "You're family," Wren said warmly. "Family matters."

The rest of the Complaints Department followed closer, forming a loose semicircle around them. Their eyes darted between one another, a mix of pride, curiosity, and the awkward sense that they were intruding on something intimate. Vaeliyan looked up and nodded toward each of them in turn.

"That's Lessa," he said, and the woman smirked before he even finished. She stood with her weight on one hip, Momo tucked against her like a sleepy boulder with ears. "If I make a bad decision, she's the first one to support it, and then make sure it turns out not to be a bad decision."

Lessa grinned. "He's not wrong." Momo huffed like punctuation.

"Twins next, Vexa and Leron." The two raised identical hands, mirroring each other's movement with eerie precision. Vaeliyan shot Wren a quick, half-grin, half-warning. "If those two get anywhere near our room with Ramis, shoot them," he said low, as if saying it aloud made it true. Wren blinked and laughed while the twins feigned innocence. Leron mouthed something that looked suspiciously like we're already planning it.

"Xera," he said, nodding toward the redhead whose grin came too easily. "Trapper, stealth specialist, and resident prankster. She's the reason Styll got drunk last week, she wanted to see what would happen after I told her not to."

Wren looked at Xera with clear disapproval. Xera winced, hands up in surrender. "I'm not living that one down anytime soon, am I?"

"Nope," Vaeliyan said, already moving on.

"Roan," he continued. The big man gave a short nod that looked more like a controlled bow. "Toughest bastard alive, but he's nicer than he looks. He'll lift anything, carry anything, and occasionally throw someone through a wall if asked politely."

"Varnai," he said next, his tone softening again. "She's the one who actually keeps the rest of us sane. Kind, level-headed, and the one who remembers to ask how you're doing before everything goes to hells." Varnai smiled at Wren, the kind that said she meant every word she hadn't yet spoken.

"Wesley," Vaeliyan said, nodding toward the calm-eyed man adjusting his jacket. "Support specialist. Makes sure we all walk back out when we walk in." Wesley gave Wren a courteous nod, ever the quiet professional.

"Torman," he said, pointing to the wiry figure beside him. "Trapper, yes, but his main function is as a weaver. It's surprising how useful that is. It's come in handy way more than you'd expect, like, so much more." Torman gave a single nod, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Ramis," he said next, motioning to the man with soot still streaking one cheek. "This is Ramis. He's a demolition expert, sapper. Honestly, you'd be surprised at how competent he is, even though he's an idiot and he's hooking up with the twins." The twins giggled behind him, and Ramis shrugged, unashamed.

"Rokhan," Vaeliyan added finally, and the man gave a polite nod. "Skill crafter. He crafts fragments, actual skills, and he's as deep into making things as I am." Rokhan smiled faintly, the kind of half-grin shared between creators who knew the cost of obsession.

"And that's Chime," he finished, looking skyward with a small grin. "Pilot of the Boltfire. She loves flying more than breathing, and she's our biotech expert." The Boltfire had landed in the open space beyond the house, its hull gleaming faintly in the fading light. The massive ship loomed like a sleeping beast behind the manor, its presence unmistakable.

The introductions earned a round of nods, some laughter, and the occasional soft smile. The squad looked between Wren and Vaeliyan with a mixture of respect and curiosity. They'd seen Vaeliyan soft before, moments when the weight of command slipped and the man underneath showed through, but this was different. Through the rings, they could feel him, every emotion bleeding through: the sharp burst of joy, the trembling relief, the overwhelming love that nearly drowned his usual restraint. They were bonded, all of them, tied together through shared resonance and trust, and they could feel what he felt even when he tried to hide it. He thought he masked his pain well, but they had felt every ounce of it: the years of longing, the ache for Wren and Belthea, the way the thought of them steadied him in the darkest hours. And now, standing here, they finally understood why. His love for them burned brighter than any fury they had ever felt from him, and it left the entire squad quietly, awkwardly reverent in the presence of the woman and child who made their captain human.

Wren looked around the estate and smiled faintly, the exhaustion in her eyes replaced with quiet pride. "I guess this is our new home. It's beautiful. Will you give me a tour?"

House's voice answered before anyone else could. "Hello, Mrs. Smith. It is an honor to finally meet you. Welcome to Smith Manor. Please note: the bathrooms are currently under extreme fire maintenance. Entry is inadvisable for the next twenty-four hours."

"Okay… whatever that means," Wren said with a raised brow. "Nice to meet you, House. Vaeliyan told me about you."

"Ah, yes," House replied, almost proud. "Also, please do not enter the East Wing, it is currently occupied by guests."

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"Guests?" Wren asked, frowning. "What guests?"

"That," House said quickly, "will be explained by Master Vaeliyan. I am not a good liar."

Vaeliyan winced. "Yeah… about that. Is Morgan here?"

"She is," Wren said. "Morgan, Car, and Florence are on their way."

Dr. Morgan approached first, carrying Fizzy in her arms. "You look alive," she said dryly. "What's the crisis this time?"

Vaeliyan exhaled. "I need you to take on a few more charges."

Dr. Morgan blinked. "I already have Fizzy. I love her, but she's a lot."

"They're Neuman children."

Her expression flattened. "You're joking."

"No."

Dr. Morgan stared at him. "Why the hells do you have Neuman children?"

"It's a long story," he said.

Wren looked between them. "What's a Neuman?"

"It's a long story," Vaeliyan repeated. "We'll explain everything later. For now, we just need to make sure they're cared for."

Lessa crossed her arms. "So, we're making child soldiers now?"

"Yeah," Vaeliyan said. "What else would we do with them, make them farmers?"

She frowned. "That's fucked up. But it fits everything we've been taught."

Florence's expression hardened as she approached. "You're serious."

"Completely," Vaeliyan said. "If this works, they could become part of the Legion of Mara, our Legion. They'll be a secret project. No one outside this group says a word."

Florence folded her arms. "This is stupid. You're asking to build your own nightmares. Neuman aren't like us, they kill and eat humans."

"I was on the same path as them," Vaeliyan said quietly. "And Mara saved me. I believe they can change, too. With the right influence."

Florence's frown deepened, but her voice softened. "I'll help. But I'm putting safeties in."

"That's fine," he said. "Your call."

She sighed. "You're impossible." Then, more quietly: "But I'm proud of you."

Vaeliyan smiled faintly. "I love you too, Florence. Thank you."

She gestured toward the distant skyline, the horizon painted gold by the setting sun. "You'd better go see Grix, Cassian, and Nanuk. They've got something for you. And it's important."

Car walked up and said, "Hey, kiddo, how you doing? It's good to see you all. You." He looked at Fenn and nodded toward the lance slung over his back. "That's a good piece you've got there."

Fenn straightened slightly, brushing his hand over the weapon that Gwen had given him as his parting gift. The motion carried reverence; that lance was more than a weapon, it was a reminder of everything he had fought for. "Thank you," he said quietly. "My master gave it to me."

Car's eyes gleamed with recognition and curiosity. He leaned in, inspecting the weapon like a jeweler appraising a diamond. "You know, I could do a few modifications if you wouldn't mind, make that better. I'm Car, Vaeliyan's uncle. Or Warren's uncle. What are we going with right now?"

"Vaeliyan's fine," Vaeliyan said, smirking slightly. "When I'm in this form, we'll go with that."

Car grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with good humor. "Fair enough. I don't know if you've ever seen his lance, or had the pleasure of hearing him brag about me, I've heard a lot about you. You're a good shot. I like working on custom lances, and I think I could do some good work on that one."

Fenn's eyes widened. His whole body tensed like he'd just been given a chance to meet a hero. "Oh yeah. Hells fucking yes." He nearly fumbled as he unstrapped the lance, his excitement spilling out in a breathless laugh. "Yes. Yes, please. Here, take it."

Car caught it easily, his practiced hands steady as he turned the weapon over. The metal gleamed under the afternoon light. "Good, it's an original. Solid build. I love this model." He ran a finger along the engravings, appreciating the care that had gone into it. "Don't get to work on many of these out here." His grin widened as he gave an approving nod. "Give me two days, and I'll have it back to you in a new form. You'll love it."

Fenn looked like he might cry. His grin was shaky but real. "If it's anything like Vaeliyan's lance, the one you made, sir, I would love to. I'm so excited to meet you. I'm a huge fan of that lance. If you're the man who made it… would you, sir, be my personal lancesmith? I'll have everything I ever own run through your hands." His voice cracked slightly at the end, half nerves, half worship.

Vaeliyan laughed, the sound breaking through the tension in the air. Car's amused grin spread wide across his face. "Car, could you do that for everyone?"

"Of course," Car said without missing a beat. "I love working on lances. It's what keeps me breathing some days. I'd gladly work on all of yours." His gaze swept across the rest of the squad with quiet pride. "Your squad's going to be instrumental in bringing us to a new future. You've all done something extraordinary, and I intend to keep your tools worthy of that."

He turned back to Vaeliyan, pulling a small data pad from his pocket and tapping through the holo display. "By the way, I finished that little shopping list you had me go on. As of right now, every bit of the city is on this list." He flicked his wrist, and the display briefly shimmered between them, a sprawling web of names and holdings.

"That's perfect," Vaeliyan said, eyes scanning the light before it faded. "Do you need me to wire you any funds?"

Car chuckled and shook his head. "No, kid. Didn't even cost anything. People literally threw it at you. Once I explained what was going on, they realized it made no sense to pretend property was theirs. If you own it all, it's yours. They're your people. You let them live wherever they want, and I don't think anyone's even tried to charge rent." He paused, grinning. "Probably for the best. I don't think most of them ever seen a credit before."

Vaeliyan's eyes softened. "Yeah," he said, stepping closer. "Still, take this. Come here." He tapped his chip, transferring a clean stream of credits directly to Car's personal line.

Car blinked as his wristband pinged. He looked down at the glowing numbers, froze, and then looked up sharply. "Holy fucking shit, kid. Do you know how much you just gave me?"

Vaeliyan smiled faintly, that mix of pride and mischief flickering behind his eyes. "Pocket change," he said.

The words hung in the air for a moment, and then Car laughed, deep, genuine laughter that filled the courtyard. Fenn stood awkwardly nearby, still buzzing with excitement, and the rest of the squad couldn't help but grin at the exchange. It was a brief, human moment, one of those rare instances where everything felt right, where war and duty seemed distant, and family, both blood and chosen, took their place in the sunlight.

Deanna walked up next, her expression bright with reverence and mischief. "Welcome home, my god," she said with a dramatic little bow that made several nearby Legionnaires exchange amused looks. A few even stifled laughs, trying not to meet Vaeliyan's eyes.

Vaeliyan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Please don't start that again. I thought we were over this."

"Oh, no," Deanna said cheerfully, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "We're not. You're still my god. And, uh… you may or may not have a church now."

Vaeliyan's head tilted slightly, suspicion narrowing his gaze. "What have you done?"

"I didn't do anything," she said quickly, lifting her hands as if to ward off divine retribution. "Nanuk did."

Vaeliyan's frown deepened. He inhaled slowly, ready to deliver something cutting, but Wren appeared at his side and gently caught his arm before he could speak.

"No," Wren said softly, her voice calm but firm. "It's a good thing. They're doing good work. Don't bother with it, it's not your problem. Let people believe in something." Her fingers lingered against his forearm, grounding him. The tension in his shoulders eased, but only a little.

Vaeliyan exhaled through his nose, muttering, "Whatever." The word was gruff, but his expression softened as he glanced down at the bundle in his arms.

Belthea had stopped crying. Her tiny face was calm now, eyes half-lidded and curious, tracing light and shadow without focus. "Huh," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Why'd she stop crying?"

Wren smiled faintly. "Because she's a baby. She cries randomly and then doesn't cry. She can't really see you yet, so she just knows you're not me."

"Oh." He frowned, studying her tiny features. "Okay. Well, I don't really know much about babies, so whatever you say." He looked slightly helpless but proud, holding her like something priceless that might vanish if he breathed wrong.

"What did they teach you in that school?" Wren teased, stepping closer to peek at Belthea.

"It wasn't really a school," he said with a half-laugh. "More like a military academy. They taught me how to kill things more efficiently."

"Oh, shit," he muttered immediately afterward, grimacing as he looked down at Belthea. "I'm so sorry, Bell. I keep swearing."

Wren chuckled under her breath. "It's fine. What's a word going to do? It's not going to hurt her to know how people talk."

"Okay," he said with an awkward grin, scratching the back of his neck. "I just thought it was one of those things you don't do around kids."

"I don't think that matters, my love," Wren said, smiling up at him. "You're trying, and that's what counts."

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Alright. So, there's a briefing coming soon for our first mission. I don't know when or where yet, but we'll be taking the Boltfire, so we'll get there faster. House is staying here."

He shifted Belthea gently in his arms, careful not to wake her. His gaze drifted toward the manor, its crimson stone glinting in the afternoon light. "We should probably do that tour. I got our room set up, we've got a nursery, everything the Green can provide in terms of luxury and childcare. It's there. But…" He glanced over his shoulder at the group behind them. "These chuckle-fucks are also living with us. And I assume most of the family will be moving in too."

He started counting on his fingers, brows furrowed. "Mel, Tasina, probably Grix, Cassian, yeah, they're all probably going to move in. Because I'm not living without half my family again. It was hard enough when I was gone. I'm not losing them too." His tone was resolute, but there was a rawness beneath it that didn't go unnoticed.

Wren nodded softly, her expression tender. "That's fair. And this house is massive. There's probably room for everyone."

"Yeah," Vaeliyan said, his lips quirking into a grin. "And it's easy enough to buy expansions. I've got enough credits to afford… honestly, a couple of cities at this point. Small ones. Settlements the size of Mara."

Wren blinked, eyes widening. "You can afford cities the size of Mara?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, shrugging. "I'm not the richest yet, but we're going to be. The richest people in existence, probably. If Glass Ocean production keeps rising."

Florence, who had been quietly listening nearby, raised a brow. "We're producing more every day. Almost at the point where we'll need another factory."

"Another?" Wren asked, looking between them.

"Yeah," Vaeliyan said, smirking. "I'll just buy one and have it air-dropped in. The amount of funds I've accrued this past year is inordinate. Obscene, even. I've got a holo-deal with Ryan & Ryan and Holo Spire. You'd be surprised how many credits get thrown at me in endorsements and licensing alone. And I'm not even making the most yet. This is just the beginning, the stepping stone to an economic boom. We're going to make Mara the richest city in the known world."

He paused, the weight of that statement settling. The squad behind him exchanged glances, a mix of disbelief and admiration. Wren reached out, brushing her hand over his arm again. "You really believe that, don't you?"

He looked down at Belthea, whose small fingers had curled tightly around his thumb. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I do."

He smiled faintly, but there was a hard edge behind it. "Just… know it'll take time," he said, gaze lifting to the distant horizon where the city's skyline shimmered in the light. "Because people will come for us when they find out how much we're going to be making, hand over fist. And I'm not about to let them take it from us."

The wind shifted through the courtyard, rustling the trees. Wren leaned against his shoulder, and for a brief moment, surrounded by friends, family, and the hum of home, Vaeliyan almost allowed himself to believe that peace could last.

Wren turned to him, her smile soft and certain. She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, eyes catching the light as she looked up at him. "Welcome home," she said.

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