A message arrived at dawn, tucked inside a hollowed-out "Structural Density Report." It was from Albrecht. The note was short, frantic, and written in a code that looked like a grocery list for gravel.
"The Imperial Auditor arrives at midnight. Name: Scribe Valerius. He's a hawk for 'high-value assets.' If he thinks the students are talented, my premiums will hit the moon. Help me make this place look like a liability. - A."
At midnight, the Academy was bathed in the flickering, cold light of tallow candles. I stood in the Great Hall, wearing my most faded vest and holding a stack of papers that were intentionally slightly damp so they would smell like mildew.
Scribe Valerius was a man who looked like he had been sharpened in a pencil sharpener. He had a long, pointed nose and eyes that darted around looking for "Taxable Potential."
"Principal Albrecht," Valerius drolled, his quill hovering over a ledger. "The Empire currently rates this facility at 8,000 Chronos per month in insurance premiums. Given the 'Special Class' status, I am authorized to raise that to 15,000 Chronos if I find any signs of... excellence."
"Chronos" were the standard currency of the Realm—heavy, brass coins that felt like the weight of time itself. To an Architect like me, 15,000 Chronos was enough to build a small estate.
"Excellence?" I stepped forward, adjusting my spectacles until they sat crooked on my nose. "Oh, I fear you've been misinformed, Scribe. I am Ilyas Verne, the Academy's lead... Consultant of Mundane Maintenance."
Valerius looked at me with pure disdain. "And what, Master Verne, do you have to say about the 'Special Class'?"
I took a deep breath. This was it. The masterpiece.
"I have prepared a brief three-hour overview," I began, my voice dropping into a rhythmic, soul-crushing drone. "We shall start with a sub-section analysis of the Friction Coefficients of the Academy's Hallway Floor-Wax. You see, if we use a wax with a high paraffin content, the students—particularly Arin—tend to experience a 14% increase in accidental velocity during a fall. This creates a high risk of 'Standard Bruising,' which, as you know, is a bottom-tier insurance claim."
Valerius's quill slowed down.
"Furthermore," I continued, leaning in until I was uncomfortably close to his face, "the structural resonance of the classroom walls is tuned specifically to the frequency of a snoring student. I have documented over four hundred instances where the 'special' pupils have achieved a state of deep, non-productive slumber that actually reinforces the masonry through low-frequency vibrations."
I started flipping through my damp papers, making sure the smell of mildew reached his nose. "If we move to page 472, you'll find my 12-week study on the Optimal Angle for Staring at a Single Speck of Dust. It turns out that at a 42-degree angle, the students become effectively invisible to the naked eye—not through magic, but through sheer, unadulterated boredom."
I went on for forty-five minutes about the history of the "Imperial Shovel" and the psychological benefits of counting raindrops on a windowpane. I saw Valerius's eyes begin to glaze over. His hand started to shake.
"Stop," Valerius whispered, his quill dropping onto the floor. "Please. No more."
"But I haven't even reached the section on Silt-Based Mortar Degradation!" I cried, sounding genuinely hurt. "It's a twenty-part lecture!"
"It's a liability!" Valerius shouted, frantically scribbling in his ledger. "This isn't an elite Academy! It's a... it's a regional storage shed for human beige! It's a miracle they can even breathe without a manual!"
He stamped the paper with a violent thud.
"Current Premium Status: Categorized as 'Structural Void.' New Monthly Premium: 450 Chronos."
Albrecht, standing in the shadows, let out a breath that sounded like a prayer. I had just saved the Academy nearly 14,500 Chronos a month through the sheer power of being the most annoying man in the world.
The Victory Walk
Valerius practically ran out of the building, desperate to get away from my "History of the Floor-Tile" speech. Albrecht stepped out of the dark, looking at the stamped ledger as if it were a holy relic.
"Ilyas," the Principal whispered. "That was... that was the most painful thing I have ever heard. I actually felt my own soul trying to leave my body during the part about the paraffin wax."
"High praise, Principal," I said, tipping my hat. "I'll send you the bill for the damp paper."
I walked home under the stars, feeling lighter than a feather. I couldn't wait to tell Avaris. I had defeated an Imperial Auditor with nothing but a crooked pair of glasses and a very detailed lie about floor wax.
The Academy's budget is safe, and we've officially been classified as a 'Structural Void.'
The Post-Audit Debrief
I pushed the front door open, still feeling the lingering buzz of a "boring" job well done. I didn't even have my boots off before I realized the house was far too quiet for a family that was supposed to be asleep.
"You can come out now," I called out, hanging my coat. "The structural integrity of the Empire's greed has been officially compromised."
Avaris stepped out of the kitchen, followed closely by Arin and Lysa, who were both wrapped in blankets but wide-eyed with anticipation. They hadn't slept a wink.
"So?" Arin whispered, leaning over the banister. "Did you do it? Did you reach the part about the paraffin wax?"
I sat down at the kitchen table, a weary but triumphant smile on my face. "I didn't just reach it, Arin. I lived it. You should have seen Scribe Valerius. By the time I reached the thirty-minute mark on the Specific Gravity of Academy Dust, he looked like he was trying to use his own quill to lobotomize himself."
I acted out the Scribe's expression, sagging my shoulders and letting my tongue hang out slightly with a vacant, soul-crushed stare. "He was vibrating, kids. Every time I said the word 'friction coefficient,' he winced as if I'd struck him with a physical hammer. When I offered him the 400-page appendix on mortar degradation, he actually dropped his ledger and begged me to stop."
Avaris let out a melodic, ringing laugh, walking over to place a warm hand on my shoulder. "As expected of my husband," she teased, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Most men defend their homes with swords. Mine defends it with a forty-page essay on floor wax and the sheer, relentless power of a monotone voice."
"He saved the Principal 14,550 Chronos a month," I added, holding up the imaginary stamp. "We are now officially classified as a 'Structural Void.' We are so boring, according to the Imperial records, that it's actually considered a financial hazard for anyone to even visit us."
"A 'Structural Void'!" Lysa remarked, her eyes bright. "That is a fascinating classification. It means that, on paper, we don't even exist as a point of interest. We are a hole in the Empire's map."
"It's the safest place to be, Lysa," I said, patting the seat next to me.
The "Budget-Friendly" Feast
"Since we saved the Academy a fortune," Avaris announced, "and since the 'Ghost Architect' is home safe, I think we should have a celebration. But," she winked at the kids, "in honor of the Auditor, it must be a 'Budget-Friendly' feast."
She began pulling dishes from the warming oven that were anything but budget. There was roasted duck glazed in honey, herb-crusted potatoes, and a dark, rich berry tart that smelled like absolute heaven.
"Wait," Arin said, eyeing the duck. "If anyone looks through the window, this doesn't look like a 'Structural Void' dinner. This looks like a 'High-Value Asset' dinner!"
"Observation," Lysa noted, already reaching for a potato. "If we eat it quickly enough, the evidence disappears into our digestive systems, returning us to a state of outward poverty."
"Exactly," I laughed, carving the duck. "We shall consume the evidence with extreme prejudice. To the Empire, we are eating boiled cabbage and staring at the wall. But here, in the heart of the Void, we feast like kings."
The Academy is safe, the budget is slashed, and the Verne family is well-fed. But a 'Structural Void' this large is bound to attract a different kind of attention soon.