Stick clenched his fists under the table, seething at yet another casual dismissal of the NPCs’ humanity. He had tried to keep his cool, but Nakamura’s comment felt like a slap across his face, only worsening as Herzog, the Baron, and the rest of the council added their indifferent comments to the mix.
“And as you saw, Milords and Ladies,” Becket’s voice was tense, “there was no reason to doubt he was not human.”
Again with the ’human’ comment.
A storm broiling in his mind. So this was what they truly believed—being “human” meant something superior, an untouchable status that NPCs could never attain. Inventory, high LVLs, Status screens—what right do they have to measure others’ worth based on these alone? If this is what Players think, then I don’t want anything to do with it.
As the council muttered in agreement, Herzog leaned back, observing the scene with an air of calm calculation.
“One must say,” he remarked, “it is impossible to tell him apart.”
General Solo’s piercing gaze fixed on Becket. “So, you took the ’recruit’ to the mines?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Becket answered, his words clipped.
“And when did you realise he was a Player?” General Solo pressed, pen in hand.
“Reacher and I read his status before he went to work.”
“So he worked in the mines that day?”
Becket took a deep breath, visibly reluctant to admit, “Yes, Ma’am.”
General Solo’s expression tightened as she wrote something down.
“So, kidnapping and forced labour,” she noted coldly, causing Baron Bonatelli to shift nervously, tapping his foot.
The Jester chimed in, “That is a PvP crime, Baron Bonatelli. You just allow your subordinates to do that to Players?”
“They couldn’t have known he was human!” Herzog protested, his voice strained.
Stick’s frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, his voice cutting through the room. “That’s it!”
All eyes turned to him, the room falling silent.
Shadis hissed at him, “What are you doing?”
Stick ignored him, his voice trembling with anger. “I’ve had it with you Adventurers calling yourselves human!”
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The bailiff started towards him, but Herzog held up a hand. “Stand down.”
Shadis tugged on Stick’s slave rags. “Sit down!”
The bailiff halted, but Stick wasn’t finished. He pressed on, the anger spilling out. “You Adventurers are disgusting. You can’t see past your fancy menus.”
He felt Shadis’s warning gaze on him, but he had come too far to stop now. General Solo watched him intently, her focus shifting entirely to him. Stick took a deep breath, feeling his heart race as he seized the moment to say what he had long wanted to.
“You don’t see these people for what they are. They have families, dreams, feelings—they’re human just like any other! How can you ignore that?”
His words hung in the air, but no one responded. Only cold, unfeeling eyes stared back, and he felt a chill settle over him. His heart hammered as he looked from one indifferent face to another.
Finally, the lord with a heavy cloak spoke up, his voice dismissive. “They’re programmed to be that way.”
Stick felt a wave of disbelief. “What? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
Baron Bonatelli seized the opportunity, a smug grin spreading across his face. “See? He chose to be an NPC long ago.”
The Jester rocked back, snickering to himself, while Herzog rubbed his temples in exasperation.
The Baroness raised a brow, her voice dripping with mock surprise. “Shocking.”
A murmur rippled through the hall, but General Solo’s voice cut through, sharp and commanding. “Focus, everyone. The hearing is far from over.”
The hall fell into a suffocating silence, sharper than any rebuke. It hurt Stick more than any punch could, that hollow, indifferent response to everything he had just said.
General Solo turned to him, her gaze steady. “Refrain from such outbursts in the future, Sir Arslan. They don’t reflect well on your case.”
Stick felt a hand on his shoulder, and a steady pressure pushed him back into his seat. He sank down, his anger simmering beneath the surface, as the council resumed their proceedings with mechanical precision, unfazed by his words. General Solo’s eyes were piercing, calculating as she shifted her attention back to Becket.
“Now, Officer Becket,” she said in a cold, even tone. “Why did you force him to work in the mines, even after realising your mistake?”
Becket hesitated, visibly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “We... we were confused. We thought it might be a glitch in the UI. He didn’t have a Class, a Name, or any Origin listed on his Status.”
Stick’s stomach twisted as he listened, his anger dissipating into a hollow frustration. This hearing, this entire council, every one of them—they weren’t interested in justice or truth. They had decided long ago that NPCs were beneath them, disposable tools at best. Nothing he said, no amount of pleading or anger, would change their minds. It’s hopeless.
General Solo leaned forward, her gaze still fixed on Becket. “When did that change?”
“Recently,” Becket admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Probably a few days ago, around the time he accepted the Baron’s offer.”
The council’s attention swiveled to Stick, who felt their eyes on him like a weight pressing down on his shoulders. Stick lowered his gaze, feeling the last of his defiance drain away.
“Sir Arslan,” General Solo said, “how did you hide your name?”
Stick blinked, his mind numb. “I don’t know.”
“And your Origin?”
“I don’t know,” His voice came out flat, mechanical.
General Solo tilted her head, scrutinising him. “When did you receive your class?”
“On the morning of the uprising.” He could barely hear his own voice.
Herzog raised an eyebrow. “So, not upon arrival, but rather like an NPC does. That does complicate things.”
A sudden, mocking laugh cut through the tension in the room. The Jester clapped his hands together, echoing through the hall with his sharp, grating voice.
“Well, congratulations on your birthday, Sir Arslan!” he crowed, his tone thick with irony. “That means you can be tried like a real adult.”
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