In a Civilized Manner

Commander Poet—yet another prominent figure in the Zacriya Kingdom.

She was the leader of the Zacriya Kingdom's Expedition Army, Royal Mage Brigade, and the only person in the kingdom to pursue both the swordsmen and mage pathway.

With an expressionless face, Edris glanced at the white-haired man, lying unconscious on the bed beside him.

The trouble this man had brought upon him…

Commander Poet took a step towards Dolan Zacriya, who watched as she lowered to one knee and pressed her right hand to her heart in a formal address. "Greetings, Your Highness. I have just returned from my mission in the western territory and am here to report the results."

Giving Edris a side glance from her lowered head, she continued, "The brigade and Expedition Army, along with the Duke of the Vyris's people, have established five gemstone mines in the outskirts of the territory."

"I'm glad to hear it," Dolan said. "But it's sufficient just to report these matters to the Resource Faction. What brings you here?"

"I heard about the situation at the Slums during the expedition, and its details further upon my return." Commander Poet's sharp gaze fixed on the dark-haired man beside him. "Your Highness, this person is dangerous."

Dolan arched an eyebrow. "You mean Edris? In that case, perhaps you've been misinformed…"

"No, I know who he is: the Fallen Prophet. He's suspected of using dark magic. Hypnosis, even." The Commander shook her head. She squinted at the dark-haired man, who simply stood there enduring her scrutiny. "Your Highness, I'm unsure of your relationship with this man, but please keep an impartial judgement towards this situation."

"Actually, I can confirm that the young man over here is not a dark magic user. Take it from an archmage," Saire butted in, her monocle glinting as she glimpsed at Edris. "But I do agree that there's something quite peculiar about the pretty one beside him."

"Master's spirling?" Celio blinked.

"Too naive, beast tamer boy. He is no spirling." Saire laughed, and Edris casually averted his eyes. "At least on my end, this archmage has never met a spirling capable of taking the form of a human."

At his professor's remark, Dolan sighed inaudibly.

He also knew spirlings couldn't take on human forms, but he'd planned to leave the matter as it was after witnessing the memory footage of the Sect. After all, Edris had helped him out tremendously with several of the kingdom's affairs. As long as he didn't harm the kingdom and its people, Dolan wasn't the type to fuss over minor details.

However, now that Saire Harkness had straight up exposed the matter, he could no longer do so.

"Your Highness." Upon hearing Saire Harkness's words, Commander Poet spun towards him. "You were planning to let someone as suspicious as him go?"

Eyes narrowed, she got a vertical wrinkle between her brows as her gaze locked onto him. Dolan broke off the eye contact with an awkward cough.

"Not necessarily…"

What a situation, he thought.

He was aware of Commander Poet's adamant nature. As the central figure of his mage brigade, she was a reliable, sometimes obstinate, leader who always stuck by the rules and enforced strict morals on both herself and her subordinates.

Only five years older than himself, Poet grew up with him in the palace as his and Treo's training companion. Even back then, she'd kept a sharp boundary between personal feelings and duty.

Dolan would never forget when she'd beat him and his brother to a pulp every combat class but fall onto her knees once the class finished, begging for their forgiveness.

Young Dolan had found her actions unfathomable. If it were anyone else, they'd definitely tank the match against him. After all, Dolan was the Prince of Zacriya; it would to them no good to fall on bad terms with him just because of a sparring class.

However, Poet never held back. Not even once. Even though she was scared to death of being punished, she stuck to the match's rules and gave it her all every single time.

His brother, Treo Zacriya, once asked her the reason behind her persistence. Compared to Dolan, his brother was much more delicate and often sustained even worse injuries than he did. However, no hint of anger or humiliation was in his tone as he inquired, the curious sparkle in his gaze brightening his face full of bruises.

At the time, Poet had responded with the word "duty."

The purpose of a sparring class was to mimic real-life situations. If there ever came a day when Dolan found himself amidst a hostile situation, his enemies wouldn't stop halfway and go, "Oh! Since your title is the Second Prince of Zacriya, I'll go easy on you!" Heck, he'd probably get killed on the spot with that mindset.

Naturally, they had no reason to punish her for her actions. And so, every match would end with Poet in tears and the Zacriya brothers in bruises. The former would beg for forgiveness and the latter would forgive, then get beaten to pulps again the very next class.

Shaking away his thoughts, Dolan tuned his focus back to the current situation. Commander Poet stood well-postured, bearing the same adamant expression from years ago. He sighed.

She really did not change.

Poet's stubbornness appeared excessive at times, but it could easily be overlooked with her loyalty and competence. After all, these traits were what gained her even the King's recommendation, propelling her to the Commander's position.

However, dismissal doesn't imply nonexistence. Her headstrong personality was nonetheless problematic, and it could lead them to many, many unnecessary hassles.

For example—right now.

"I understand your hesitancy, Your Highness. My men have reported to me that over two hundred people were saved from the Slums' explosion," Poet said, directing her voice at the dark-haired man at the edge of her vision. "I heard you did it."

Seeing her statement was not denied, she continued, "Although I appreciate your actions, it's a different story with the white-haired man beside you."

"You must have misunderstood something, Commander." Edris smiled. "This person over here is my friend. He was with me the entirety of the investigation."

"Edris is right," Dolan piped in amicably. "We just ran the Dread Chamber on him. Starting from the Sect investigation, he's been helping Edris out, especially in combat."

"And before it? The Dread Chamber is supposed to reveal the user's entire life," Commander Poet said. "The Fallen Prophet had entered the Slums due to His Highness's request, but how about him? There are too many questionable things about him. A background check is only necessary."

Just as she finished her sentence, a rustle sounded from the wheeled bed behind the dark-haired prophet. Edris stiffened, but his action went unnoticed as the Commander's eyes flickered past him, landing on the person on the bed. The rest of the group looked over as well.

On the bed, the white-haired man laid dormant, his long lashes protruding from his closed eyes.

"We couldn't get a clear view of his memories before the Sect, but I think it's going too far to suspect him simply because of that." Dolan sighed.

"That only makes it all the more dubious. Why is it the memories become clear exactly in the Sect? We can't rule out the possibility that his memories were manipulated so that if he ever became suspected, he could clear his name." The Commander was obviously not buying his explanation as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"That's…"

"It's entirely conceivable. The Awakeneds were reported to be hypnotised, Your Highness. It's possible that this man himself was a victim of the spell. A puppet for the puppeteer. Even more, both he and the Fallen Prophet may have partaken in the entire scheme."

"Master did no such thing." Celio stepped forward. "After saving all those people, he even fell ill for five whole days."

"That's right, Poet. I don't see a need to look too deep into this."

As Dolan said that, he peeked at his professor in an attempt to request help. Unfortunately, Saire Harkness completely disregarded his action as she leisurely leaned her back by the counter.

From her looks of amusement, Dolan wouldn't be surprised if she pulled out snacks from her pockets the next second.

"Professor!" he whispered.

"What? I can't even watch the banter in peace?" Saire rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I've got things to take care of anyways, so I'll be off. I'm not too worried with Quine here, but don't go overboard, alright?"

"I bid you farewell, Lady Harkness." Commander Poet took a pause in her indictments. She stepped back and gave her a polite bow.

"Have fun." With a sloppy wave of her arm, the archmage spun around and made her way to the stairs. Dolan watched in exasperation as her merciless back faded into the distance.

Shaking his head, he forced his attention back to the trouble at hand.

Now that Saire Harkness was gone, Commander Poet turned back, studying the young beast tamer with an uncompromising gaze. The latter, although taken back, kept steady.

Poet looked toward Dolan with a disappointed sigh. "I hope you know, Your Highness, that the Mage Faction is only open to designated individuals, yet you have brought these people here. Forgive my words, but as the Crown Prince, the future leader of this kingdom, have you not considered the aftermaths of your actions?"

"Poet, you're really…"

Dolan let out a weary sigh as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

Everyone had certain types of people they found difficult to deal with, and he was no exception. From the experience he gained partaking in countless social situations as the Crown Prince, he'd learned to steer away from two kinds of people:

The first kind was those with a strong sense of self.

These people possessed goal-oriented, pillar-like mentalities and acted upon their morals basically on instinct. When interacting with them, forget about reaching a compromise, even persuading them to alter their stance by the tiniest bit was equivalent to climbing Mount Echo with bare feet—no, with no feet.

Commander Poet belonged in this category. With her personality, once she decided on something, she would see it to its end no matter what. Seeing that she was dead set on Edris's companion being suspicious, she would do anything to dig out the truth, whether it proves or disproves her speculations.

The second was those similar to himself.

Dolan reached up to massage his temples.

Coincidentally, both types of people were currently present.

Although the traveller had been so far accommodating with their requests, perhaps adhering to his self-proclamation as a "seeker of peace," how long would his patience last?

Dolan couldn't help but feel that it'd be unwise to push further, but he knew Commander Poet had no intention of backing down any time soon.

In other words, the situation had reached a stalemate.

At that moment, Edris, quietly listening to their entire conversation, stepped forward.

"Now, now. Let's not get riled up here." He laughed half-heartedly. "Commander, I'm not sure where all the hostility is coming from, but I thought someone as distinguished as yourself would know to take rumours with a grain of salt."

He turned to the woman with a smile.

"It's common sense, after all."

"Rumours cannot form without some level of correspondence to the truth," Poet said simply.

"Then how do you suggest we go about this?"

Despite the dark-haired man's calm response, uneasiness tugged at Dolan's chest. Edris was like a bottomless, ancient well. Behind that selfless, gentle smile, Dolan found it difficult to truly discern the truth of anything he said.

Although Edris was still smiling, there was an additional layer of foreignness to it that he couldn't quite pin his finger on.

Poet held no specific reaction to Edris's capitulation. She turned towards the Crown Prince. "Your Highness, I propose we take the suspect to the Risk Faction for further, more thorough investigations."

"That's going too far." Dolan frowned.

The Risk Faction was where the original Dread Chamber was kept, but it was also home to many other interrogation devices made exclusively for criminal investigations. People sent to this faction were all evil-doers with triable crimes.

The Risk Faction was the ultimate punishment site. Even if a person were innocent, they would definitely be treated as guilty upon arrival.

"No can do."

Edris's clear voice resonated in the waiting space, and everyone turned toward him. The dark-haired traveller kept a calm countenance, but his gaze was now as cold as ice. At that moment, Dolan thought that whatever was holding the traveller back during this conversation had finally snapped.

Even though it was his first time seeing this side of him, Dolan knew what Edris was feeling right now:

Anger.

"Commander, I don't know why you're so adamant about adjudging my friend a criminal, but I recommend you give up the thought." He didn't bother waiting for a reply and continued. "First hypnosis, then dark magic. You seem awfully invested in the stories about me. Especially the not-so-friendly ones…"

He stepped forward. His eyes narrowed as they skimmed the people in the room, at last landing on the woman in front of him.

"If this continues, I don't mind living up to them."