Voices clashed like swords as council members erupted in outrage. Duke Herzog was the only one silent, his face drawn with quiet disappointment. He neither defended nor condemned Baron Bonatelli, though his eyes remained fixed on the man with a look that made the Baron’s discomfort even more apparent.
“Months?” The man with the cloak leaned forward, a smile stretched thin across his lips, as he fixed Bonatelli with a piercing glare. “Baron Bonatelli, perhaps you’d care to explain your actions in light of Sir Moore’s account?”
Bonatelli’s face drained of colour. He stammered, fumbling for words.
“I-I was merely following protocol—”
General Solo cut him off, her voice sharp as steel.
“Protocol?” She pointed at him accusingly. “You’ve just admitted to holding a Player and forcing him to work against his will!”
“No, you don’t understand! He was RPing as an NPC!” Bonatelli’s plea was desperate, and a few council members exchanged confused glances.
The man with the cloak tilted his head, turning to Stick. “Sir Arslan, is this true?”
Stick shifted uncomfortably, caught in the council’s scrutiny. “Yes, I mean, no… I—”
“Well, which is it?” The man’s smile faded, replaced by a look of impatience.
Stick took a deep breath. He hated that his mistreatment caused such an uproar, especially when others had gone through similar, if not worse, conditions without causing such a scene.
“No, I wasn’t RPing,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t even know what that is. And yes, I’ve been here since June.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Even Duke Herzog’s eyes lifted, surprise flickering across his features. The Jester, perched on a high-backed chair, raised his voice.
“So all this time, he was practically enslaved to you?” he asked Baron Bonatelli, his voice laced with mock amusement.
Bonatelli’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His face flushed a deep, humiliated red as he searched for a defence.
“Duke Herzog,” General Solo snapped, “check the Combat Log.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Herzog rose from his chair with a quiet sigh. He walked over to where Stick stood, his expression resigned as he gestured to Stick.
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“Open the Menu,” he instructed, his voice calm.
Stick did as instructed, a familiar white window filling his vision. Herzog guided him through the menus, and they eventually reached the section labelled Combat Log. The screen was overwhelming, rows of text with dates and times popped up. The latest entry caught Stick’s eye:
`[14.12.2018/17:47:19]: 5 [LP] [Environmental] damage from [Falling].`
Falling?
Stick glanced at Herzog, puzzled.
“Filter by damage,” Herzog instructed quietly.
Stick complied, narrowing the list to similar entries. As he scrolled, he noticed a pattern: repeated entries of `[Falling]` damage that dated back to his journey to the capital. Each one recorded what was clearly damage from being jostled on a hard, wooden cart. Every bump had apparently been recorded as [Falling] damage.
“Scroll up,” Herzog said.
Stick reached to drag the screen upward, but he fumbled, accidentally opening another window with a definition:
[Help] [X]
[Environmental] damage occurs whenever a Player receives Damage from sources outside of [Combat]. These include but are not limited to: [Weather] conditions, extreme temperatures from [Heat] and [Cold], [Falling] from—
“I said scroll up!” Herzog repeated, his patience waning.
Stick fumbled to find the small X in the corner, closing the window before returning to the Combat Log:
[14.12.2018/05:12:23]: 1 [LP] [Environmental] damage from [Cold]
[14.12.2018/11:05:44]: 5 [LP] [Environmental] damage from [Falling]
[14.12.2018/17:18:09]: 3 [LP] [Environmental] damage from [Falling]
[14.12.2018/17:43:38]: 2 [LP] [Environmental] damage from [Falling]
[14.12.2018/17:47:12]: 5 [LP] [Environmental] damage from [Falling]
He resumed scrolling, scanning through dozens of entries of [Cold] and [Falling] damage, dating back to the 12th of December. As he scrolled further up, some entries displayed another source for his [Environmental] damage. There was also damage from [Heat] on the day of the uprising, the 12th of December, and the 7th, although Stick didn’t remember what that was about.
“So, anything?” the man with the cloak said. “We’re waiting.”
“There’s a lot of Environmental damage in his log,” Herzog said, dismissing him.
As Stick kept scrolling, he noticed a new type of entry appear, dated from earlier in December. On the 2nd of December, he received damage from [Hunger].
“Keep going,” Herzog urged.
Stick’s fingers flew over the screen as he sifted through months of data, each new entry echoing the harsh conditions he’d endured. [Hunger] appeared more frequently as he scrolled back, while [Cold] subsided the further back he went. By the time he reached entries from November, hunger was the predominant type of [Environmental] damage, reaching back through October, September… all the way to June.
“Unbelievable,” Herzog muttered under his breath, glancing over his shoulder at Bonatelli, whose face was now slick with sweat.
The Jester raised a hand, his voice cutting through the thick silence. “Duke Herzog?”
Herzog straightened, clearing his throat.
“I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Sir Arslan has been in the game since June.” His voice was grave, resonating through the chamber.
Silence fell over the council room. Every gaze shifted to Bonatelli, who seemed to shrink under the weight of their scrutiny. Stick caught Shadis’s eye, and though he couldn’t see what they were all seeing, he fought to hold back a grin. Stick felt a flicker of satisfaction, even as the reality of the situation weighed on him.
“Please continue,” Herzog said with a sigh, nodding for Stick to proceed with the rest of the log entries.
Stick took a steadying breath, uncertain how to feel as he began scrolling through the Combat Log again, the council’s judgment heavy in the air.
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