The Fortifier’s barrier shattered like crystal. The layers collapsed one after the other, showering the room with a rain of multicolor mana. It would've been a breathtaking show if it weren’t for the corpse in the adjacent room. Time was up. I left the interrogation room and approached the Prince. In the safe room, the factions of noble houses looked at each other with increasing suspicion. I knew Prince Adrien wouldn’t be able to hold them any longer.

“Time’s up. Did you find the culprit, Robert Clarke?” Prince Adrien asked, and I noticed a hint of anxiety in his voice.

As I didn’t want the culprit to scurry between our fingers, I decided to be cautious.

“The results are inconclusive. I’d rather share them with you in private, My Lord,” I said, just loud enough for anyone to hear.

Prince Adrien turned around to face the guests. His expression had returned to the usual mask of carefree tranquility. “The party is over. Please return to your chambers and remain vigilant. I’ll make sure you get any relevant information about the incident. Be sure we will find the culprits.”

Captain Kiln guided the guests through the ballroom, always keeping a safe distance from the banquet table. The party ended in the worst possible way for the royalist faction. It wouldn’t be surprising if the army disbanded and every duke returned to the safety of their strongholds.

“I’ll prepare a soundproof room in my quarters. We can talk about the investigation results there,” the Marquis said.

That was a good call. The assassination of Sir Enric would mark an after and before in the relationships between nobles if the culprit went unpunished. Just the mere thought that someone could breach the Fortifier’s barrier and the Sniffer’s detection would be enough to sow distrust between factions.

“What should I do? I’m invited?” Lyra asked as she awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, unsure if she had to stay or follow the other guests.

“Gather the team and follow the Marquis. And bring Holst too,” I said.

Elincia gave me a quizzical look, but in the end, everyone exited the room. I just had to reunite the proof and present my case. I hoped it was enough; otherwise, I would get in big trouble. I walked toward the interrogation room when my mana sense warned me I wasn’t alone in the safe room.

“You can come out,” I said.

From the corner of the room, hidden within the shadows cast by the light stones, emerged the Zealot who had seized my arm during the feast. I couldn’t tell the identity of my guardian angel because a golden mask and a white cloth curtain covered their head. Even their hands were covered with white gloves.

The Zealot crossed the room without making a noise. It was almost unnerving.

“You helped me during the fight against the royal soldiers, didn’t you?” I asked.

“You recognized me? How?” The Zealot replied. Their voice had an androgynous quality.

“It isn’t hard with those ears popping out of your headgear,” I said.

I couldn’t tell the exact expression under the golden mask, but the Zealot seemed appalled by the news. I sighed. At least they weren’t trying to kill me, which was better than several of my previous encounters with people.

“Join me. I can’t leave you alone with the evidence,” I said.

There were a series of questions I was dying to ask, but I couldn’t make the Prince wait. I didn’t expect the Zealot to comply, but I heard the footsteps behind me as I entered the interrogation room. I looked around. In the corner of the room was a beverage cart. It would be helpful to transport the proof. I summoned my mana and loaded the cart.

The Zealot stood at the doorway, watching the show.

“Why did you hold my arm instead of the Prince’s? There were dozens of nobles more important than me in that room,” I asked as I used my mana to place the glasses on the cart.

My words hit the Zealot like a minivan going over the speed limit. The Zealot’s outfit wasn’t suited to maintain a non-human’s anonymity. The ears and tail made it too easy to read. I didn’t detect malice emanating from them.

“I’m very committed to my relationship, so–”

The Zealot interrupted me midsentence.

“You are my Quest.”

My mana faltered, and I almost smashed a glass against the floor. My blood froze. I expected the Zealot to be a spy of the High Priest or something similar, but the news of the System issuing a Quest with my name in it worried me. If the System Avatar told the truth, the System was composed of several different subsystems and subroutines. Not all of them worked with the same goal in mind.

I bit my lip. It would be problematic if the Quest subsystem deemed me a persona non grata. The last thing I needed was an army of religious fanatics stuck to my ass. The Zealot before me, however, didn’t seem hostile. They seemed troubled.

“So… you are here to help me?” I tried to guess.

“I don’t know,” the Zealot replied.

The Quest should be straightforward if the System used the same logic as an RPG. Gather ten herbs. Deliver the letter to the guildmaster of Hammerstorm. Go to the dungeon and destroy the dungeon core. Kill God. I wondered if the Zealot’s Quest wasn’t as easy to interpret.

“Your Quest is missing something. Or is it corrupted?” I said.

“How did you know that?” The Zealot asked, startled.

“It’s not that hard to guess,” I replied, covering the cart with a tablecloth and pushing it to the door. “Care to move? I have to risk my life about five minutes from now.”

The Zealot followed me into the ballroom, practically attached to my heels.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You said you were risking your life. Until I can figure out how to accomplish the Quest, I won't let you die,” the Zealot said, with a neutral voice more fitting to their golden mask.

“It was a figure of speech. I don’t plan to die any time soon,” I sighed, wondering if all religious fanatics took things as literally as this one. “Did you touch any of these cups, by the way?”

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The Zealot shook their head.

“Good,” I replied, pushing the cart to the entrance and leaving the Zealot behind.

“Wait, that’s all? I came from the capital all the way just to meet you!” The Zealot sounded disappointed.

Having a Zealot bodyguard sounded like a great deal on the surface, but bringing religious freaks to the orphanage was out of the picture. I couldn’t foresee if their Quest would change for good or bad in the future. The best choice was to not interact with volatile people, no matter how much there was to gain. Then I realized something.

“How did you know I was here in Farcrest?” I asked, stopping the cart in the middle of the hallway.

The Zealot caught up to me and blocked the path. Out of nowhere, a System prompt appeared in front of my eyes.

Quest:

–Robert Clarke in Farcrest.

Great. The System had a GPS function. Was it that hard to put it into an interactive map? Not that it mattered; [Awareness] was just enough to help me navigate the Farlands. However, it was slightly worrying that the System knew my exact position. This wasn’t a game I wanted to play.

“I love a good riddle, but I have too much on my plate already,” I said, pushing the cart to run into the Zealot’s boots.

I couldn’t help but feel there was something dangerous about the Quest. Quests served to maintain the balance in the world, and my deal with the System’s Avatar was the complete opposite of preserving said balance. A shudder took hold of my shoulders. ‘Slay Robert Clarke in Farcrest’ sounded more plausible than ‘Help Robert Clarke in Farcrest’.

“Tell me, what should I do?” The Zealot asked, almost pleading.

I didn’t have an answer.

“Maybe you are meant to protect me,” I ventured forth an answer.

“If I were meant to protect you, it would say ‘protect’ in the Quest description. I hoped something would change if I met you,” the Zealot replied hesitantly.

The conversation was taking me too long, and I wasn’t sure I liked the direction it was going. The System Avatar had promised I would have years until I had to fulfill my part of the bargain. I needed time to grind my levels and runes first.

“Look, I promise not to leave Farcrest, and if I come up with something, I’ll let you know. Deal?” I said in a last attempt to get rid of my unwanted companion.

That seemed to be enough reassurance because the Zealot moved to the side.

“We’ll be in contact,” the Zealot replied after a moment of reflection.

“The System works in mysterious ways,” I sighed, still unable to discern if the Zealot was a helper sent by the System Avatar or the complete opposite.

“The System works in mysterious ways,” the Zealot muttered like it was ancient wisdom hidden for millennia.

I left the Zealot pondering on the Quest and followed the hallway.

A wave of relief washed over me as I walked into the vestibule. I thanked God and all the Saints that the Zealot hadn’t figured that killing me would nullify the troublesome Quest. Human life wasn’t particularly valued in this corner of the universe to make me feel any more safe.

“Well, that’s a problem for the future Rob,” I grunted.

I grabbed the cart with my mana and walked upstairs to the second floor and the Marquis's quarters. The Great Hall was almost empty except for the last partygoers returning to their chambers and the guardsmen stationed in every doorway. The light stones had lost their intensity and shone weakly against the shadows.

I crossed the engraved double doors and entered the audience room. Captain Kiln was waiting for me at the enchanted door that led into the Marquis's private quarters.

“Raudhan woke up,” she greeted me. “He’s pretty bummed he missed the party. He tried to sneak out to go drink with the guards, but I tied him to the bedpost.”

“What’s the problem then?” I asked, noticing the Captain’s troubled expression.

Captain Kiln’s voice quivered as she opened the door. “I dragged Raudhan into the Guard, to this world. If I hadn’t exchanged seats with him–”

I wondered if Captain Kiln needed a hug. Probably not.

“Get your shit together, Izabeka. There’s no time for grievances. Someone attacked us in plain sight,” I cut her off. “Listen. The man who killed Sir Enric is not the same one who tried to poison you. I think the attempt on your life is linked to the person moving the threads behind the Guard’s insurrection.”

“What do you mean?” Captain Kiln whispered, quickly regaining the severity of her voice.

“The poison used on Raudhan was different from the one used on Sir Enric,” I replied. “Two different attacks occurred during the feast. I think I know who poisoned Sir Enric, but I don’t have a clue who can be behind the attack on you.”

“Are you sure, Rob? That’s a strange theory,” Captain Kiln said.

“Yes. I’m sure. Raudhan wasn’t poisoned with Ashthorn, and I think I can prove it, but I will need a favor,” I said, stopping the cart in the middle of the darkened hallway. For me, it was illuminated as if it were day. “The person who wants you dead probably resides here in Farcrest. The culprit acquired the poison from a local Alchemist. I need you to use your contacts and buy all the poison in the black market so I can compare them to the poison used on Raudhan.”

Captain Kiln looked directly into my eye.

“Can you do that? Raudhan didn’t show enough symptoms for us to know what poison was used on him.”

I pushed the cart forward and resumed the march.

“I’m a man of many skills.”

Captain Kiln rolled her eyes and escorted me to the reunion room. We stopped outside the door. “I’m glad you showed Tauron the finger when he offered you a place at the Imperial Library. It’s good to have you here.”

“And I’m glad you are not a stuck-up noble lady, Captain,” I replied. The whole assassination thing might have gotten me a little emotional. “Thank you for having my back.”

“Don’t cry on me, Scholar. You might have a babyface, but I’m not going to pamper you like the Governess does,” Captain Kiln said, opening the door.

“Wish me luck,” I said, pushing the cart inside.

I recognized the room. It was the same place where the Marquis had offered me a place in the Tournament in exchange for representing the city. This time, Prince Adrien sat behind the desk while the Marquis stood beside him. The investigation team was seated around the maps table, although the frontline map and the wooden markers had been tucked away.

“I’m sorry for the delay. There were too many sets of stairs,” I said, parking the cart between the desk and the map table.

“I hope there’s a good reason to meet here instead of arresting the suspects at the party,” the Prince said. “The culprit could be escaping at this very moment.”

“I assure you, Your Majesty, the culprit believes we could not solve the case,” I replied.

The Prince waved his hand for me to start, and I pulled the tablecloth from the cart, revealing a series of glass cups. Using my mana, I grabbed one of the cups full of wine and deposited it in front of the Prince. I was about to gamble my position in the royal faction.

“This was your cup at the banquet, Your Majesty,” I said as I grabbed a second cup, this one empty, and placed it beside the first one. “This was the cup you used to drink water in the interrogation room. The markings in each cup are your fingerprints, highlighted with powder. If you pay attention, you’ll realize they have the same pattern.”

The Prince and the Marquis leaned over the table. [Awareness] would be enough to tell them the pattern was consistent.

“The pattern on your fingers is unique. Relatives don’t have the same fingerprint pattern, not even twins,” I explained, presenting another glass from the cart. “Those are my fingerprints. You’ll notice they are different from yours.”

The Prince was beyond dumbfounded by the revelation.

“This has been common knowledge in my country for over a century. The original discovery was even earlier,” I clarified.

Lyra jumped from her seat. “That’s why you asked everyone if they touched Sir Enric’s glass.”

“Exactly. The culprit left their fingerprints on Sir Enric’s glass without knowing,” I said, clearing the table and grabbing the shards of Sir Enric’s cup. “There are two sets of fingerprints in this glass. Sir Enric’s and Lord Vedras’.”