The council chamber fell silent as Herzog’s voice echoed through the room. “Effective immediately, the NPC known as the Prized Possession is now owned by Stick Arslan.”

  His declaration lingered in the still air, drawing wide eyes and hushed murmurs from the assembly. Stick’s head snapped towards the Prized Possession, his face a mixture of disbelief and confusion. The NPC’s eyes, equally bewildered, mirrored Shadis Moore’s stunned expression beside him. The weight of Herzog’s words was incomprehensible, yet undeniable. General Solo, seated with commanding presence, leaned forward. Her voice was steady, authoritative.

  “Sir Stick Arslan is hereby absolved of any crimes, because, as Claudius put it—and I quote—‘Allowing an amnesiac to construct a belief system outside of Player intervention while under the authority of Carnifex shows terrible neglect of the core Carnifex values from our side.’” She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “To correct that mistake, the High Council will take responsibility and implement measures to integrate him into the Carnifex Playerbase, starting with transferring ownership of the NPC.”

  A wave of unease rippled through the room. Stick felt it keenly, as if the walls themselves were closing in. Across the hall, Bonatelli’s hateful gaze burned into him, but it was Shadis’s expression that stung more—a mixture of resignation and quiet betrayal.

  “The High Council has agreed to offer the following deal:” General Solo listed each term methodically, her tone devoid of emotion. “Stick Arslan is to be initiated into the Carnifex guild. He will be power-levelled to level 35, making him eligible for the rank of Officer in the Middle Echelon. He will then be stationed at an outpost of his choosing—be it the lumberyard in Prye, the mines at the Dragon’s Hand, the Factory in the Dragon’s Spine, the headquarters here in the capital, or the Front Lines in Tovenir.”

  The words were too much for Stick to process at once. His mind reeled. The offer was staggering, almost absurd. Not only were they not punishing him, but they were also offering him a path into Carnifex, complete with status and resources. It seemed impossible—too good to be true. They can’t be serious!

  He scanned the council members seated opposite him, their expressions betraying varying degrees of calculation. Count Mikhailov and Baroness Sallow adjusted themselves in their chairs, offering him smiles that were anything but genuine. Their interest in him wasn’t altruistic; Stick could tell they saw him as an asset, a curiosity to add to their collection. And yet, the Factory called to him. Cadmun’s diary is there. Maybe I’ll find a clue to my past. But join Carnifex? Never. Not even for that.

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  General Solo continued. “In return, Stick Arslan must forfeit his honorary title as a knight of House Blitz, as we do not acknowledge that authority.”

  Stick’s heart clenched. My honorary title?

  “That can easily be arranged,” Shadis interjected coldly, his words like a slap to Stick’s face.

  He turned to Shadis, incredulous. The animosity between them had never been so blatant.

  General Solo’s eyes narrowed. “Silence, Bot. We’ll address you shortly.”

  Her tone was cutting, and the bailiff’s fingers hovered above his weapon, ready to intervene. Shadis bit back further comments, though his glare spoke volumes.

  Her gaze shifted back to Stick. “What do you say, Stick Arslan?”

  Stick, however, was no longer listening to the General’s words alone. The more he thought about the offer, the more he realised its true intent. This wasn’t an apology or a reward—it was a calculated trap. A means to re-educate him, to strip him of his independence while keeping him under constant surveillance. The man beside him, Shadis, as much as he didn’t like Stick for their differing circumstances, and the one behind him who had tried to kill him before, were still human beings which at some point he could’ve even considered friends of his despite their difficult past together.

  The jester with the mask leaned forward, his voice playful yet cutting. “What do you say, Stick Arslan? It’s an unusually generous deal. The alternative is to try and find a job outside the army without any skills to your name. You do realise you won’t last a day outside the capital, not at LVL 1. Let’s just say the monsters would love you.”

  Stick had little time to weigh his options. If what Lucille and Emilia had told him was true, there was no way he could reach a higher level on his own. And if he stayed at LVL 1 he’d never be able to defeat them. His eyes met Shadis’ and a thought popped in his mind. Could he really become a citizen of the capital and wait for the Blitz family and the Heavenly Union to take down Carnifex? Or would he be able to slip through the Front Lines and join the fight from the opposite side, after he would become an Officer? But joining Carnifex? It felt like betraying himself. Am I trying to justify my selfishness, or is this actually my best option?

  He took a deep breath, steadied his resolve, and finally spoke. “What about Sir Moore?”

  The room stilled. Herzog’s face tightened. “We’ll get to the NPC after we’ve heard your answer.”

  Stick’s gaze didn’t waver. “I want to know what happens to him before I decide.”

  Gasps rippled through the council members. Some faces turned red with anger, others twisted with malice. The jester rocked back and forth, his mask betraying nothing. General Solo, unflinching, flipped through her papers.

  “That much defiance was to be expected,” she said coolly. “So be it.”

  Shadis swallowed hard, bracing himself. Stick could see him trying to steel his expression, but the tension was evident.

  General Solo’s voice rang out, cutting through the air like a blade. “Sir Shadis Moore, on the count of the insurrection you’ve incited and all the crimes associated with it, as recounted previously, you deserve no less than being sentenced to death.”

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