At last, Valeria slips out of the temple and home through evening streets gone soft with dust and lamp glow. The day’s arguments, seals, and ledgers seem to peel away with each step.
Her house is small, warm, and dim. Old parchment, oil, and simple cooking greet her at the door like familiar hands.
Castor and Pollux hover near the hearth, trying and failing to look casual. Nestor sits with his beard lit gold by the fire, patient as ever.
Aurelia
You are home. I was beginning to dislike the silence.
Valeria’s brothers edge closer, peering up at her armor, then down again, as if asking too many questions might make the day return.
Castor
Did you win? Or is it one of those days where everyone speaks in circles and nobody says anything useful?
Nestor
Let her breathe first, boy. Then she may tell us whether the gods were kind.
The room settles around them. Valeria’s bed waits in the next chamber, neatly made, while the fire gives one last steady crackle.
Keep the house quiet from the Magistrate's reach