As a gesture of goodwill from the Dreemurr Nation, King Asgore assigned the best compatible guard to House Berendin: none other than Sir Grillbz Grillenn.
Two vans stocked with clothing and accessories stopped before Alphys’ Lab. They’re carrying imports from the Berendin’s home, including a full-body mirror. The third floor rooms thus became a dressing chamber in a snap.
Since then… Lady Lucidia fussed over fashion and kept cycling through her wardrobe. She's trying to figure out what fits her the best for the occasion.
So far, Grillby counted at least five different mask patterns, six pairs of gloves, four pairs of boots, alongside over a dozen dresses. And somehow she still had more luggage yet unpacked.
“Does this look good?” she asked.
‘Good’? It was better than ‘good’. She was outright beautiful. The rich blue ballroom dress brought out the best of her delicate frame. Everything else was also on point, from the intricate white laces to the pleats of her dress. Put on some jewelry and she would be set for any event.
Grillby replied, “…Yes…”
Lucidia examined herself before the mirror one more time. Again, she changed her mind and returned to browsing her choices.
The poor fire elemental grew confused. “…May I ask why?…”
“Oh,” the skeleton lady hesitated. “I thought it might be too extravagant. Don’t want to outdress the Dreemurr Royalty. This is more appropriate elsewhere.”
How thoughtful of her. Understandable, she had to be extra cautious for this event. It would be her first public appearance to the world. She had only one chance to leave a proper impression.
Grillby then heard someone knocking on the door. It was Gaelic Blanc, no longer in his cousin's attire, but dressed once more in his own clothes. He remembered them from the Megalovania incident.
“…Good afternoon…”
“Afternoon,” the other greeted. “Oh? M’Lady picking out her clothes? What a treat! ‘Tis been a while since she had this bother.”
“…Excuse me?…” Grillby blinked.
“She’s been wearing her own brand o’ work uniform, aye.”
“…Ah…” It all made sense in hindsight. Working clothes help put one in the right mindset for the day.
Lucidia showed the men a simpler white dress. “How about this?”
In which Gaelic responded, “M’lady, ye know me thoughts. Ye look the best with nothing at all.”
Grillby was flabbergasted by what he had heard. That statement was equal portions lewd AND rude!
The flower children meanwhile giggled from the air vents. They’re constantly watching from the sidelines for the latest, juiciest gossip. What a terrible habit they had fostered.
Lucidia, however, responded to that statement with only mild annoyance. “Gaelic Blanc! You and I know that isn’t an option. We Lichborn are to maintain a humanesque appearance to the outside world.”
“But M’Lady, we be in monster territory. The local brothers dinnae hide their form. Why should ye struggle so?”
Now that’s fuel for thought. Maybe there’s logic behind his stark statement after all? “…Lady Lucidia… Sir Gaelic is right… You can relax with us… why not at least reveal your actual visage?…”
“I…” The woman hid her face behind the fabric. “I’m not ready to show my true self to the human media.”
Lucidia then grabbed a few more clothes and retreated into the dressing partition.
“Sir Grillenn, was it?” asked Gaelic.
The fire elemental nodded.
“Are ye a fan o M’lady? Aye, that ketchupy heretic accused ye so.”
Grillby cringed.
…Curse Sans for spreading baseless accusations…
…How do I answer this without digging my own grave?…
So he answered: “…I honour her… as the Chronographer, and as Judge Thyme’s wife… That is all…”
The beast-like skeleton pushed his face close. His forked snake tongue flicked a few times, licking the elemental’s cheeks.
“Aye, aye. Nary a lie ah taste. Just discomfort.”
When Gaelic distanced himself, Grillby resisted the urge to scream, internally or otherwise.
The other monster’s expression turned to one of childlike curiosity, bright-eyed and eager. “How does a knight like ye end up running a bar? With whom does yer flower o' love bloom? They be a woman? Man? A transitional mimic like yer local celeb?”
Already with the personal prying. But, Gaelic didn’t seem to think such questions were a big deal.
“…Let’s start with the shorter story…” Grillby replied, “…I don’t have a romantic partner…”
Gaelic was shocked by the reveal. “Yer a literal hot bachelor?! How can this be?”
The beast proceeded to circle around the man, scrutinizing him from top to bottom.
“Look at ye, Strong. Sturdy. Handsome. With courteous manners matching yer fine form! Aye, with ye prowess in combat, ‘tis safe to say ye be younger than yer numbers. How can it be that ye caught no heart? Do they have no taste?!”
What was he supposed to do with all these lofty praises, so sudden from a strange acquaintance?
“…I… uh… spent my time between the bar and maintaining my training… I don’t flirt with my customers either…”
Gaelic planted his face into his hands, letting out a disappointed groan. “They can still seek ya outside normal hours. Even if ya be dense and oblivious, it be no excuse fer the others to not try! Me heart breaks for the fools who failed to see ye…”
Awkward levels, rising.
…Would I make a good husband?… I never once considered that… I may be too much of a workaholic if I’m honest about myself… Not a good prospect…
Grillby cleared his throat. “…About the bar…”
Another round of fashion examination interrupted the chat. This time, though, what he saw left him in shock. The princess’ gravity-defying locks had somehow shrunk to shoulder-length!
“…Your hair!… Where did it go??…”
Both skeletons chuckled at his reaction.
Lucidia explained, “No member of skeletonkind has natural hair. I used to wear wigs as a child. In my late-teens, I installed a hair-generating Code into my skull for convenience. This allows me to generate any hair type I’ve previously analyzed on the fly.”
Now Grillby felt quite silly. “…Oh… I see… I thought it was a gender difference… Please pardon my ignorance…”
“All is well, good sir.”
What followed was a return to the usual routine: another design, another rejection, and another retreat into the dressing chamber.
He thought it best to start from the beginning. “…About the bar… It was a suggestion from an acquaintance…”
“Do ya like it?” asked Gaelic. “‘Tis hard work, keeping everything running day in day out.”
“…It’s a nice atmosphere… I’m not shy about the workload… Maintaining the Royal Guard takes more…”
The skeleton frowned. “A question so simple, yet no answer? Could it be ye in truth be bored? Like a hobby that dragged on far too long?”
“…Huh?… W-what makes you conclude so?…”
“There be no passion in yer words,” said Gaelic. “Only fleeing. Like a man runnin’ away. Run, run, run.”
The skeleton’s odd and unpredictable mannerism threatened to trigger Grillby’s recently-used fighting instincts. Though his breath quickened for only a moment, it didn't go unnoticed.
“Oh?” Gaelic tilted his head. “So there be a fire that burns inside despite ye discipline! Very nice. No wonder ye earned M’Lady’s trust to bear the Berendin heraldry in that other timeline.”
…He seems to be hoping for something from me…
…………………
The fire elemental turned aside. “…Sir Gaelic… I’m not the same person as that timeline…”
“Yer base character can’t be too different, aye?”
“…You’re correct… But first and foremost… I belong to the Dreemurr Nation… I’m sorry if that dashes any hopes…”
Grillby wondered if he was too harsh. But he can’t take it back. A fact is a fact.
Nothing transpired between the two for a while. Then, Gaelic lowered his head. “M’sorry, Sir Grillenn. Perhaps ah overstepped ye boundaries. Ye bar be a cozy place. Tis fine if ya wanna stay. In days o’ peace, a defender be unneeded. Aye?”
“Fer many loops, ah watched this town upon M’lord’s orders. Sans Serif haunts yer bar, so there ah stalk too. Yer daily routine ah observed. I thought ye a quiet husk o’ a man. That all changed when ye helped us deal with the false angel.”
“That sword o’ magic in that alternate world… ah sure it be Lemuria’s last true relic. It must have chosen ye.”
…Is he sound of mind?… Grillby wondered. …A magic sword? …Chosen?…
Nothing he said made sense… And he thought he’s getting used to Papyrus’ zany logic.
As though he came upon the brightest ideas, Gaelic’s face lit up with joy. “What if ye replace me?”
“…Pardon?!…”
“Aye, aye! Take me post. Be Knight o’ Berendin! Me days o’ service be numbered. A successor, they need. And ye impressed me enough to consider ye a peer!”
“…I…I can’t do that!…”
“But ye must! ‘Tis your destiny!”
Discomfort levels, rising to the stratosphere. Grillby excused himself upon that very instant. “…A-apologies… but I should go…”
Despite pleas to stay, the fire elemental rushed towards the exit.
There he bumped straight into a certain butterfly Magus.
“Oof!”
“…Ack!…”
Mezil steadied himself with his cane. He appeared to have just gotten out of bed no less than ten minutes ago. His hair was a mess and he still wore his black sleepwear.
“That’s some way to start the day,” he muttered. “Is everything alright, Sir Grillenn?”
“…I’m sorry… It’s just…”
Grillby looked back at the beast-like skeleton, unsure what to say.
“I understand,” said the Magus. “I’ll take it from here.”
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All attention shifted towards the human. Gaelic wasted no time to greet his master.
“Slept well, M’lord?”
“Kind of. Hmm, you’re wearing your own clothes again. That’s good. Keep it up.”
“May ah have a hug?”
A hug was given without any further questions.
…That is quite a stark change of behaviour… But it’s genuine…
…This must be their usual dynamic…
Alerted to her husband’s arrival, Lucidia hurried out of her partition half-dressed. Grillby’s first response was to turn his face towards the wall so he doesn’t accidentally see things that he shouldn’t.
“Mezzy! Your hair is in a complete mess!”
“Well, I just woke up.”
“Have you selected your clothes yet?”
“I’m going to wear the same as always. Have you decided on yours?”
“No. This is driving me nuts! Maybe I should just keep to my uniform too?”
“I was thinking… do you still have that coat? The one that’s inspired by the early half of the previous century.”
“I think I do. But, are you sure? It’s what I wore during the War of the Red Victory.”
In which Mezil replied with gentle determination. “That was where our love began. Fitting for a first appearance, is it not?”
Lady Lucidia giggled in delight. Predicament, solved in a few sentences. Judge Thyme’s sense of precise aim was certainly not limited to his gun.
“What about my mask?”
“You can use the updated face, if you prefer.”
Mezil then said: “Excuse me for a moment, I’d like to speak with Sir Grillenn.”
And so, Judge Thyme whisked him away from the uncomfortable situation. In the hallway, the fire elemental leaned against the walls to catch his breath.
“Did they give you trouble?” Mezil asked.
Grillby shook his head. “…I’m just not used to their quirks…”
“I understand what you mean. You are not the first, Sir Grillenn. Either way, you should take a break while you can. We need you in peak condition for when the Grandmaster arrives.”
“…When will The Grandmaster arrive?…”
“Perhaps around 3PM. He’s preparing a gift for the occasion. Whatever it may be, he’s confident that our guests will appreciate the sentiment.”
As Mezil headed back into the room, he said: “I’ll see you then.”
“…Thank you…”
Grillby let out a sigh of sweet, sweet relief.
…What just happened back there?…
…That Gaelic… making weird, unreasonable demands…
…I don’t know what his circumstances are… But he sounds desperate…
There was a slight discomfort in his belly.
…Hmm… I’m starting to feel hungry…
Off he went to have lunch. Nothing great: just some sandwiches from the fridge, prepared by Gaster in advance.
…An alternate reality, huh?… How did that happen in the first place?… This whole deal sure sounds like science fiction…
Sitting around doing nothing made the head-numbing sensation worse, however. So, he thought to visit the two Royal Scientists. Never a dull moment when they’re together.
On the way there, he happened to pass the SOUL treatment lab. It reminded him that it’s been three days since they pieced the remains back together.
…To think they used Gaster’s old tech again…
Once upon a time around his niece’s birth, Grillby would pay daily visits to a particular disembodied Yellow child. They’d chat over a decent meal, letting him escape the twisted reality of his Royal Guard post within the guise of ‘gathering intel’.
Now, whenever his niece gains a year, he’s reminded of what that youth had lost.
…She’s already a teenager…
…………………
…I wonder if he’s awake yet…
When he tried to enter, he stopped upon hearing a voice.
“Sorry, kiddo. We never did find your mommy down in the Underground.”
…Sir Gerson?…
Grillby peered between the gaps of the door. There stood Sir Gerson indeed, speaking to the Purple SOUL. Monsters could process the magic-based wavelengths emitted by the disembodied, allowing communication without the aid of external devices.
“What about ‘King Fluffybuns’ and ‘Goatmomma’?” said Gerson. “Wahaha! They’re right as rain! Adopted a new whippersnapper too. It’s Frisk: the one who broke us all free.”
“Ahuh. Yep, that’s them. Short brown hair with a striped blue-and-purple shirt. They asked for your help, huh? They’re crowned Ambassador nowadays. I’d have to say… they got their work cut out for them. The Surface has gone loop-de-loop.”
The Purple SOUL’s light pulsated at a gentle pace.
“Hmm… if ya wanna know about your surviving family members, ya gotta ask Lady Lucy. Y’know, the pretty skelegal in blue? Eh? You’re afraid of her? Wahaha! I guess she can be pretty intimidating, but she means the best for ya.”
Gerson showed a file to Purple. “See this? All her hard work in here. She’s tracking them down to give you a proper burial. Ahuh. It’s still on the agenda. Heard the media won’t let us go unless we resolve this right. Waha!”
…Sounds like Lady Lucidia has been researching the lives of these children…
…I don’t think I should eavesdrop any further…
The fire elemental tried to leave only to cancel the plan… The flames on his being stirred. Flickered. An eerie shiver of intuition crept from his head down to his shoulders.
He then heard a scurry of light clatter from the ceiling. Faint. Almost silent.
…There’s something… Rushing straight at me… I know the flower children are always lurking… but this is not them…
…Whatever it is, it’s closing in fast…
He braced to counter. But looking around, he found no one. Not even a shadow in sight.
Tense seconds passed. The air returned to still silence.
…An intruder?… Maybe a spy drone?…
…I can’t leave until I know what I’m dealing with…
Grillby remained vigilant. Eyes open, ears sharp, body ready for action for what may come.
Until…
“Um, ‘tis me.” A familiar voice came from the air vents, timid.
Looking up, Grillby spotted a pair of glowing eyes peeking out from the darkness.
All that stress for nothing. Grillby’s tension dissipated together with a long, loud sigh. “…Please don’t do that again…”
“Sorry,” Gaelic replied. “Ye had the aura o’ a man who’d punch me if ah get close on land.”
“…You could greet from a distance first…”
“That be true.”
The skeleton pushed himself out of the tight spot. His clothes had gathered considerable dirt and cobwebs from snaking around in the vents.
While dusting himself off, he commented: “Mighty impressive that ye kept yer guard up fer so long. Yer a better martial artist than a bartender, that be sure.”
“…That’s nothing special?…”
“Nay, nay. In all me years o’ hunting targets, most shrug away me presence as either pests or tricks o’ mind. Lax. Oblivious. Yer different, aye. Must be why that false angel ya trained had the same sharpness.”
Then, Gerson exited the Lab. He had heard the ruckus from start to end, much to their embarrassment. After a brief laughter, the old hero invited them both to have a chat with the SOULS.
“Anyone ya know in here, Grillbz Grillenn?” asked the ancient one.
Gazing at the Yellow SOUL floating in the tank, he replied: “…Yes…”
He walked up to the tank and placed a hand on the glass. A warm greeting coursed from the SOUL through his arm.
“…Hello… It’s been thirteen years…”
To the child, their last meeting was a recent memory. Yellow had spent most of the time asleep.
“…I built a bar… It’s Western themed… Fits your style…”
Yellow was delighted. He couldn’t wait to see it for himself. The child asked if Grillby liked owning one. Funny to think that today he received that same question twice.
“…It’s nice… Though I haven’t opened it in a while… The town is in danger…”
…I wonder what would Papyrus do if he knows they’re awake… He would team up with Frisk… Then what?…
…I promised that I’d help him… Yet here I am wondering what to do…
Then, he had an epiphany. Papyrus being Papyrus would take the path of a fresh start.
“…If… you could have a second chance…” he asked: “…Would you like to become a Lich or a robot?…”
At the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of gold and green scurrying under the desk.
…Huh… That’s right… There’s those flowers…
“…Or you could choose to become a talking flower… I don’t know why it would be preferable… but the option exists…”
Yellow didn’t understand what a Lich is, but he knew about a robot and a flower. The kid remained hesitant.
“…You don’t want any?… Your past wasn’t happy… but that doesn’t mean the future will be the same…”
He simply didn’t know what to do. He had accepted the fact that he’d just vanish once the Barrier was broken. Rather fatalistic for a Red Minor.
Maybe Grillby should ask the other kids first. Let Yellow think this through.
“…Alright… take your time…”
Since the SOULS remained silent around Lady Lucidia, Grillby thought he should write the requests down for her.
One he retrieved the tools, the note-taking began. Grillby spoke with the children while Gerson read their autopsy report. In the meantime Gaelic just watched. He had his shoulders high and hunched, wary of the SOULS.
…Yellow, boy, an old friend. Cause of death: me. Dreams to be a treasure hunter, but decidedly decided to be indecisive…
…Green, boy, never fought a monster. Cause of death: heatstroke due to getting lost in Hotland. Wouldn’t mind becoming a Lich or a robot. Flower, refused. Keen on a second chance…
…Cyan, girl, occult enthusiast. Sister to Orange. Cause of death: the icy cold lands of Snowdin. Becoming a Lich would be her dream come true…
…Orange, boy, the responsible one. Brother to Cyan. Cause of death: monster-built traps. Becoming a robot is the coolest, he said. No one wants to be a flower, it seems…
…Purple, girl, a former Magus. Cause of death: bacterial infection. Euthanized by Doctor Gaster. Second life, declined. Wants to meet her mother again…
Grillby had to read that line again. “…F-former Magus?!… Do you know about this, Sir Gaelic?…”
The beastly skeleton bared his teeth with a low growl. “Aye. Purple once be a student in the Magus Association. The lass, ah bear no grudge. But the mother she loves so much, she be me master’s foe of the red-dyed war. A Red.”
“In her youth, she gave up the path o’ the Keeper. Settled down and had the lass. Ah dinnae know what folly crossed her mind when that woman signed up fer that skirmish. Put the lass in danger unimaginable.”
“The mother helped the heretics kidnap Lady Lucidia, aye. Promised her a cursed rock needed to cross the Barrier. Payment in exchange fer me Master’s life.”
The Philosopher’s Stone. Queen Toriel had made sure every person involved in the Megalovania incident understood its significance as a substitute for Boss Monsters.
“…What happened to her?… I hope Judge Thyme didn’t…”
“M’lord dinnae land the final blow,” the other answered. “But ah be sure that where lives be concerned, he would do whatever he must.”
“…That means she’s alive?…”
“Nay, nay. Ye misunderstand. M’lord and M’lady said ‘twas the Aratet Chosen who did the deed. Went by the name o’ Vers. His Mark be this reticle o’ death. His aim merciless and absolute.”
Upon hearing the harsh truth, grief ebbed from Purple’s heart. Old Gerson, ever the hero, comforted her for the loss of innocence.
It can’t be helped. The sting hits hardest on the first day. Grillby knew this first-hand.
When the child’s emotions stabilized, they moved on to the final child.
…Blue, girl, ballerina in training. Cause of death, exsanguination. Her wish is to…
…Ascend as a goddess?…
The proclamation seemed childish at first; it’s not uncommon for children to get carried away with fantastical grandeur. However, the details regarding the dusty ‘Waterfall Incident’ flashed through Grillby’s mind.
The pen slipped from his grip and fell on the ground. His flames flickered wild, warping the shadows around his feet.
“…You are a Gungnir…”
An eerie giggle echoed between his ears. She was amused that a monster knew anything about them. The existence of the cult spawned after the Sealing, thus leaving even the Royal Guard ignorant of their dangers.
“…I fought them before…” noted Grillby, “…In a recent terrorist attack…"
She thought it was an expected outcome, since the monsters were set free.
“…I believe you’re mistaken… They targeted the Magus Association, not us…”
It didn’t change the fact that the Underground’s people had gotten involved. It’s fate. Destiny.
“…Enough… It’s time for me to ask the questions here…” Grillby narrowed his gaze, “…Why did you invade the Underground?…”
She was born a Blue, not a Red, the girl explained. By theory, that served as an immediate disqualification for the title of Persona.
Yet, it conflicted with the Gungnir’s warrior ideology of strength. If she could prove herself stronger than a Red, what’s stopping her from being crowned Persona?
Legends tell that those humans who hunted monsters gained power unimaginable. With each victory they absorb more and more magic from the pure dust released by death's embrace.
Mount Ebott was the perfect target: a whole oblivious nation trapped in a giant cave. The opportunity of a lifetime.
“…Why Waterfall?…”
Waterfall had the smallest citizens, and also the quietest hunting grounds.
Indignance rushed to Grillby’s head. The flames and shadows reflected his SOUL roaring fierce, consumed with anger.
“…You…” he seethed. “…It’s because of you, the other children suffered!… If you didn’t murder anyone… all the children after you wouldn’t be hunted!…”
“…Purple could have seen a doctor sooner… Green wouldn’t need to hide from the Royal Guard… I wouldn’t have needed to take Yellow’s life!…”
Blue responded that she didn’t care. It’s their problem. Not hers.
He imagined himself smashing through the SOUL’s container, shattering that cruel human in one strike of glorious vindication.
However, he resisted. Killing her now would only bring trouble to both Monster and Magi.
…Calm down… Breathe… An adult shouldn’t succumb to a child…
Calm, he did. Although it was just enough to not burn the place to cinders. The shadows stabilized and the glow subsided.
…………………
…This makes Frisk appear to be a saint… I’m glad Papyrus isn’t here to hear this…
Blue asked who’s the current leader of Gungnir. Trying to take control of the conversation again, it seemed.
“…A man who calls himself Aiden of Aratet… Son of the Last Persona…”
The SOUL shone with intrigue. Two generations had passed since her failure. Such a long time.
“…Is he still alive?… Of course… We’re meeting him this evening for official business…”
The eerie giggle again echoed. How foolish, she said, for an ex-captain to not finish a death battle with Gungnir’s leader.
She warned that he will want to settle the score. His honour as a leader is at stake. And this time, Grillby won't be so lucky.
‘You will die.’
Gaelic hissed. “Balderdash blather! Hogwash! Poppycock! Ye sorry snivelling gobshite! Sir Grillenn be one o’ the nation’s best, and ye damn him to a curse o’ death?!”
‘Being the ‘best’ is no guarantee for survival’.
Harsh as it sounds, Grillby knew that to be true. Aiden had been so close in dealing the final blow. If Mettaton hadn’t intervened, who knows what would have happened?
Gaelic grabbed Grillby on the shoulder: uncomfortable, direct physical contact. The strength of that grip was no laughing matter either.
“Don’t listen to her! Grrr she be killing ye spirit before the fight even begin! Combat be deadly, aye, but ye need to go in with the mindset o’ a victor. That’s how M’lord survived the hell o’ his foes!”
“Fire. Ye need fire,” he growled, “This not the time fer ye to hide in yer inner bar! Quit running away! Ye be a GENUINE Knight o’ Berendin!”
“…Dreemurr… Knight of Dreemurr…” The elemental corrected. Poor guy got so confused.
Blue told Gaelic to shut up. He’s being noisy, annoying, and creepy. No sense of personal space. She also told him to go die in a ditch somewhere.
Those statements further provoked the skeleton. He growled, snapped, and tried to claw the surface of the glass container. The action frightened the less courageous SOULS, causing them to back away from ground zero.
“Ye Gungnir cur! Ye should have rotted with yer corpse!!!”
Blue continued to goad the hornet’s nest. She accused Grillby for being a cowardly limping husk in the wind. Where is his integrity, she asked? Where are his pride and honour? Why does he need this bony manmutt to defend him?
Yellow then burst into a huge guffaw. If he still had his body, he would be rolling on the floor laughing.
Her indignance redirected towards Yellow. Why did he mock her? How dare he?
The boy of Justice then pointed out that Blue tried to act more grown-up than she ought to. Her own integrity was hollow and shallow, easy to resist. When things don’t go her way, she throws a tantrum of lame insults: the pinnacle of immaturity.
It’s naive of her to think that she could intimidate The Former Captain of the Royal Guard. Stupid, even.
…Wow… He is quite the cowboy at heart too… shooting her down with a quickdraw…
Gerson had enough. “Pipe down ya whippersnappers, this is a no-fight zone! Don’t make me put down my banhammer!”
Still trying to act like the better child, Blue turned her nose up at Yellow. Her focus returned to Grillby, this time she offered a proposal: help her ascend into a goddess, and she will guarantee his safety.
“…I refuse…” Grillby replied, “…I see no reason to entertain you… Your scenario won’t happen anyway…
“…How do I know?… It’s because Aiden of Aratet is a married man with his own children… Not to mention a tribe and a nation… There are no stakes to risk his life for in this tiny town… Certainly not for one's sense of honour…”
Blue tried to bargain, but her efforts were denied as the man of fire turned his back against the SOULS.
“…Be a good girl now… And, thanks for the warning…”
He still had a long day ahead, and he can’t let this incident become a distraction. Any further doubt should be reserved for after the feast.