...

What?! My brother is still alive?!" Ocilia's voice sliced through the reverent silence of the Temple, her wrath echoing off the divine wooden walls as she glared down at Louis and Makol, prostrated before her, their foreheads pressed against the floor.

Everyone flinched in Green's cluttered office, the atmosphere tense. The revelation of Louis's and Makol's elaborate schemes—to provoke a Demon Run using an abnormal demonic parasite and force the Leonandra estate to cede territory—had stunned everyone.

There was a difference, though. While Louis was a part of it, he was not directly involved, such as planning or knowing about any endeavors—he was a bystander who liked to imagine grand gestures but had never had the chance to do anything. Legally, Alexander could easily excuse him.

Makol, though, had quite a lot to confess. Under his leadership, William orchestrated multiple assassination attempts, enticing Fiorello of the Nine-Fire household to perform them, even though not much was needed to do so, and performing highly illegal operations—ranging from slavery to drugs. Executing half the camp would be the most appropriate punishment.

'Great, what a colossal mess,' Alexander thought, reclining on a wooden couch, covered in leaves and earth that didn't dirty the clothes, some distance away. His legs were crossed with practiced ease, but his mind raced. He knew he had to navigate this situation carefully to prevent it from devolving into chaos and petty infighting.

In the meantime, others have already started their discussions. Perched on the cluttered desk was Ludwig, a squirrel fauner whose voice, though squeaky, carried an elegant warmth and geniality. Once purely brown, his fur now bore streaks of red and black—markings akin to the tattoos Alexander's father had, signifying the merit he had achieved. "What does this mean? Are we actually allied with wild demonic beings? That can't be right!" Ludwig's distress was palpable.

A sigh drifted from behind him. Green flew from her seat and settled on the desk beside Ludwig, crossing her legs as she regarded Louis and Makol with curious eyes. "What a giant mess," she mused aloud, twirling a strand of her emerald hair. "But since the Oracle didn't answer, I suppose we can act as we see fit."

Ludwig looked at her, his giant, cute brown eyes almost tearing up with genuine concern. "But how can it be? We are talking about wild demonic beings. Is it true that the Oracle of the Twin-Acorn Temple allowed the secular world to decide the punishment?"

Green shrugged, clearly enjoying the spectacle, "Don't ask me." She tapped her hand band, a simple dirty string with two slightly differently colored acorns attached, "The old aelfe is silent, thus, not caring."

When it came to politics, the Temple had a lot of say in some issues, especially regarding divinity. While wild demons and their corrupting [Energies] weren't seen as divine in any sense, they were on the same level—a testament to their destructive nature.

However, the Temple would mostly then take the lead in punishing perpetrators, taking control away from nobility or the crown. Even though annoying, most accepted such arrangements for the sake of their alliance—in this case, though, they stood down as Green, as the Messenger, didn't receive any instructions.

That made Ocilia and Lorient, who stood shoulder to shoulder, their gaze fixed intently on the two men kneeling before them, tense and awaiting instructions—both had their own problems that needed to be solved.

When Alexander observed them, it became clear that he had a decision to make. 'So, what should I do? Forgive or execute? First or Second World War?' he mused, unable to decide. He reached into his blazer and retrieved a metallic case, carefully selecting a black-tart candy. 'First, I need to calm down,' he told himself. He wasn't less outraged but held back, still deciding how to spin such a catastrophic state of affairs into something positive.

He popped the candy into his mouth, the bittersweetness spreading across his tongue and soothing his nerves. "There's no need to scream or fight," he said aloud, his voice steady. "This falls under Lori's jurisdiction. She'll decide what happens next, correct?"

While Alexander felt the urge to intervene directly, he recognized the importance of giving his retainers the opportunity to make difficult choices. They needed to grow, to be shaped by their decisions—good or bad—as these experiences would forge their ideals and the futures they envisioned.

Green suddenly leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with interest. "Hmm, I get the night elf one, but what about Louis?" She smirked, clearly curious about how Alexander would handle the situation.

Ocilia's eyes narrowed dangerously, her half a dozen irises swirling with pure black and red hues. "Betrayal means execution," she declared, her voice cold as ice.

"Does it, though?" Alexander's smirk hinted at centuries of political maneuvering, a skill not his own but knowledge honed in Earth's intricate diplomatic arenas—where words often wielded more power than weapons. "First of all, I agree with Green. Louis is under my tutelage as a student," he said, absentmindedly stroking his own tail while rolling the candy around in his mouth.

He saw no reason to punish the boy with such severity. "I don't believe execution is necessary."

"Master!" Ocilia stepped forward, outrage crackling in her voice like lightning. "He planned to bring chaos to your future subjects and orchestrated attempts on your life and that of your siblings!"

Alexander rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation. "Look, he signed a mana contract and has confessed everything." He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "He was misguided, yes, but let's not forget he's young and was manipulated."

On Orbis, only the youth of nobles were given leeway while everyone else was punished as an adult, which, in Alexander's opinion, was incredibly stupid. Youths on Earth or Orbis were always more hot-headed and made numerous mistakes since they had no foresight or experience to anticipate the worst outcome. It was paramount to show goodwill and rehabilitate rather than punish. In Louis's case, he made a commitment, one he didn't want to fulfill after years of letter exchange, as found out after being forced to tell the truth—it was genuinely not worth mentioning.

"If I started executing everyone who harbored ill thoughts or spoke against me, I'd have to eliminate half the population of central Wolfsteeth," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

There were too many who wanted to see Alexander dead. His policies and charity brought a lot of prosperity and, with that, taxes to the rulers, but also crippled a part of the underworld and some wealthy commoners who banked on the suffering of desperate people.

The best example was the healer union, which Alexander bought out to serve for free at certain times, driving out older and more experienced members who didn't care and saw his pay as chump change. As such, a lot of hate and nasty rumors poured toward him. Like them, numerous other organizations and unions wanted his head.

Ocilia's face twisted with disbelief, her lips parted to argue further, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Just wait." Turning to Louis, he commanded, "Stand up."

Louis rose shakily to his feet, his face etched with sorrow and exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, evidence of the sleepless night haunted by loss. Alexander continued, his tone firm yet not unkind. "You'll face consequences for failing to inform me, though I understand why you might have felt isolated. Therefore, your punishment will be lenient. Do you have anything to add?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Louis shook his head slowly. "I will accept the punishment gladly," he said, bowing deeply. "I am ready, Mr. Alexander."

Ignoring him for a moment, Alexander looked back at Ocilia, whose eyes still blazed with anger. "Lia," he said gently. "What do you think his punishment should be? Remember, he didn't take any direct action and had no prior knowledge of the attempts on my or my family's life."

After a moment of tense silence, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Master, this is not a joke," she said, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "Your decision here sets a precedent."

Alexander nodded thoughtfully. "Too harsh, and I become a tyrant; too lenient, and conspiracies will breed unchecked." Despite the gravity of the situation, his tone remained light, almost playful.

He understood the delicate balance he needed to strike. Leaning too far in either direction could jeopardize his overarching goals. A carefully measured response, however, could quell dissent while flushing out hidden adversaries.

Ocilia sighed heavily. "It's your decision, Master," she conceded, her posture relaxing ever so slightly as she glanced at Louis. "I trust your judgment." Then, with a chilling undertone, she added, "But let me deal with my dearest brother."

'She has her priorities straight,' Alexander mused, recognizing her desire for personal vengeance. He was content to let her pursue Klepto; after all, it aligned with his own interests.

Turning his gaze back to Louis, Alexander's expression softened. "Your punishment, despite my retainers' desire for retribution," he began, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "is fifty years of service after you finish school."

Louis straightened, a flicker of relief passing over his face despite the lingering shadows of grief. "Thank you, Mr. Alexander. But may I exchange my lifelong servitude for a small favor?" His voice carried a newfound resolve.

Arching an eyebrow, Alexander popped another candy into his mouth after swallowing the one before. "An offer?" He grinned, intrigued. "How exciting. Let's hear it."

"I want revenge," Louis declared, his voice gaining strength. "I want to—"

Alexander snapped his fingers sharply, cutting him off. "That's enough revenge talk." A subtle spell silenced Louis mid-sentence. "While I respect your feelings," he began, but Ocilia interjected.

"I think it's fair," she said, her eyes meeting Alexander's with a steely gaze. "His one and only love was taken from him. The least we can do is give him the chance to hunt down my brother and see justice served."

'Justice? She slowly realizes,' he mused, knowing that Ocilia cared little about such things. Still, over time, she became more rhetorically effective as she understood what Alexander and the people around him aimed for—her words were empty, but it didn't matter as her actions would lead to the same outcome whatever she said—a barbaric chant, a knight's vow, or simply tickling his idealistic spots.

Alexander considered her words, his smirk returning. "I see." Leaning back, he asked, "What about school? If he leaves now, he won't continue to grow."

Ocilia shook her head confidently. "We share the same goal," she replied, nodding toward Louis. "He will be under my guidance. I'll ensure he learns properly while we search for Klepto."

"So, he'll become your disciple?" Alexander mused aloud. "Lifelong servitude in exchange for the chance to kill Klepto? Very well. But afterward, I expect you back in school. Understood?"

Louis bowed deeply. "Thank you, Mr. Alexander."

Ocilia inclined her head. "This will suffice, Master."

Observing them both, Alexander sensed a shift in Ocilia—a flicker of empathy. For once, she was putting herself in someone else's shoes, offering Louis a chance at redemption. It could also be something else he couldn't deduce but wanted to let it play out.

"Stay," Alexander said, patting the seat beside him. "You two will have much to discuss."

As Louis settled beside him, the focus shifted to Makol. Lorient's presence was a storm of barely contained fury, her killing intent so intense that Makol trembled on his knees. "I..." she began, her voice wavering. Her hands clenched and unclenched, the fabric of her summer dress straining under the surge of [Energy] emanating from her. Tiny holes began to appear in the delicate material as threads unraveled under the pressure.

'She struggles with decision-making, doesn't she?' Alexander thought, his gaze keen as he studied Lorient. While she had effectively led the camp, she was also incredibly well-behaved, as was usually the case shortly after helping them—making tough choices about punishment was a different matter entirely.

Deciding to give her more time, Alexander turned to Makol, his smile enigmatic. "What an ambitious, if foolhardy, plan you had," he remarked. "While I suspected something was amiss, I didn't anticipate such boldness."

Ocilia was quick to question him. "You knew something was wrong, Master. Why didn't you act earlier?"

He shrugged casually. "Why should I? Assassination attempts are unfortunate, but I don't hold grudges."

What was done was done, and Alexander had no reason to punish prior behavior. Punishing prior behavior would only lead to unrest or a decrease in morale, as he needed the camp to act as his troops in the military operation. Before that, he would rather have something over their head and show his benevolence so they would act in their best interest, showing their best side, than be careful out of fear—a cold and calculative decision.

Green burst into laughter. "Haha! By all that circles Orbis, you're serious?" She wiped away a tear of mirth. "You're not just going to cut off their heads?"

"Stop that!" Ludwig scolded, stamping his tiny foot on the desk.

Green tilted her head at him. "Stop what?"

"Going against the most fundamental doctrines!" Ludwig exclaimed. "Resentfulness should be prevented! The Core is the blankness of Orbis!"

Green chuckled softly. "Ah, right. You're not from the Twin Acorn Temple." She leaned in conspiratorially. "We believe that the Core is the accumulation of all experiences—emotions, sensations—no matter how heinous or corrosive. If nothing is the Core, then everything is also part of nothing, isn't it?"

Ludwig's eyes widened. "How can everything also be nothing? That's contradictory!"

Shaking her head, Green was about to respond when Lorient's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Silence." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I need to decide." Turning her gaze to Makol, she asked, "Do you have anything to say?"

"It was all my idea," Makol whispered, his voice barely audible. "Do what you see fit, Chief. Just... please spare my people."

Alexander gestured toward Lorient. "Your decision. Do what you think is best." His eyes met hers, encouraging her to take the lead.

Lorient approached Makol, the air around her thick with tension. "Whatever I want?" she echoed.

"You're responsible for the Strip of Hope camp," Alexander reminded her, using the camp's official name. "Though I'm sure you have an opinion."

Since acquiring their own piece of land, officially recognized by the Eros and Essence Alliance, the camp's name had been carefully chosen to embody multiple values, the most significant being hope. Using the name was a manipulative approach so she would not crush his head at that very moment.

"I do," Alexander admitted, his gaze playful. "But I have people like you to decide what's best. I can't possibly know them as well as you do."

A heavy silence settled over the room as she grappled with her choice. Finally, she spoke. "No punishment."

The declaration hung in the air, met with a mix of surprise and skepticism. Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" While execution seemed extreme, letting Makol off without any consequence felt too lenient.

Lorient turned to face him fully, her expression resolute. "Didn't you say it was my decision?" A hint of their mother's stoicism shone through her eyes.

He whistled softly at her defiance. "Interesting, but you're still my retainer, and I need to understand your reasoning." He savored the candy on his tongue, awaiting her explanation. "I'm listening."

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Because I feel like it," she said simply, letting the words hang provocatively. "Is that enough?"

"I hate this," Alexander grumbled, rising from his seat and walking toward Makol. "Listen, I respect you, but I need a real reason. Otherwise..." He conjured a spinning earthen bullet above the night elf's head, the threat implicit. "I will not let you continue."

Lorient's eyes narrowed. "So, you don't trust me? What about you giving Narsi so much responsibility while I can't decide for my own people?"

Alexander smirked, undeterred. "Narsi consulted with me on almost every major decision. Like you, he had to justify his choices, and trust me," his smile teased. "I made his life Outer Circle."

"Fair enough," she conceded. Turning back to Makol, her hands trembled slightly. "I decided because I would probably have done far worse in his position."

"So, because their conditions were dire, you're showing leniency—even though they nearly killed your younger brother and sister?" Alexander probed.

Without hesitation, Lorient nodded. "Yes. They weren't our allies at the time and acted out of desperation. I understand that."

She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions. "I would do worse to protect you," she admitted softly. "Far worse."

Alexander dissolved the threatening spell, rolling his eyes with a hint of affection. "Oh, please. So melodramatic."

A faint smile curved Lorient's lips as she stepped closer to Makol. "Thank you for trusting my decision," she said, her voice steady. Then, in a swift motion, she pressed her foot onto his head, forcing him deep into the floor. A crack echoed in the room as blood trickled from his mouth. "But now you're under our command," she continued coldly. "I want Klepto found, or else I'll make an example of you myself."

Alexander watched the exchange, his body tense yet his expression amused. "Listen here," he said, his voice carrying a menacing undertone. "I want Will delivered to us, along with a list of all nobles plotting against me." His smile sharpened. "I have plans to make."