Seeing Judge Thyme stand firm with such severe resolution raised a red flag for Grillby. The Assistant Commissioner’s presence clashed against the Supreme Judge, causing invisible sparks of enmity to fly.
Grillby tried to not show it, but the flames on his head flickered in anxiety.
He looked at Flowey, the supposed true prince of his nation. His mood had soured ever since the other ‘Asriel’ carried out his publicity stunt.
“…Are you alright, Flowey?…” he asked.
The flower prince replied: “I don’t know anymore.”
“…Please know that I will protect you…”
“Thanks.” Flowey smirked a bit. “Heh. Never thought that you would become my shield, out of everyone in town.”
Clement stopped before Judge Thyme. In his usual genial tone, he said: “Good afternoon, Supreme Judge. Have you slept well?”
The Magus replied, “I've rested aplenty, thank you. What brings you here, Assistant Commissioner Eccleston?” Courteous his words may be, Mezil had a glare that could cut steel.
“Ah, you see, we’ve tried to contact the good Commissioner before noon. He’s been dealing with the case since the night prior. But then, we suddenly lost all contact. Not even the emergency radio lines worked. We immediately mobilised a force to rescue him. Lo and behold, this jolly town has become a hotspot of criminal activity.”
“Thank you for the concern. Have you found Roger Eldin yet?”
“No. I thought you might know about his whereabouts. Well, I sent Hannah for a search. I’m sure she will find him in no time.”
“Let’s wait inside,” Judge Thyme opened the door of The Lab. “The outside invites unwanted eyes and ears.”
Clement commented, “Camera shy, as usual.”
…Those two seem to have a long history together…
Inside, at the lobby, Grillby noticed that Sans lurked at the corner. He had his hoodie up and his head down, observing the situation with intense focus.
…How peculiar… Grillby thought. Sans usually would hide in plain sight under the facade of a harmless joke-loving civilian: approachable and relaxed. Yet here, he was shrouded in an unsettling shadow. He behaved less of a man and more like a cloaked dagger, ready to strike at any moment.
Flowey inched behind his fiery guardian. “That Trashbag really creeps me out…”
Stroking the petals gently, Grillby reassured: “…Don’t worry… He can’t do much around me…”
Although he turned his sights away from Sans, his thoughts lingered.
…Did something happen to him before we arrived?…
The two human men settled down on their respective sofas, facing each other. The atmosphere that hung in the air was a tightrope of pleasantries.
Clement showed his hand towards Grillby. “I must say, Judge Thyme, your new Knight is quite extraordinary. First day on the job and he already rescued a boy from the fires of a riot.”
“At Point Alpha?” Judge Thyme asked. “How is the child?”
“Safe in my custody,” The policeman smiled. “Though thanks to the mayhem, we weren’t able to contact his parents yet. Would you mind if he sought refuge in this building? I hear this is one of the few places in Ebott Town with full human amenities.”
Grillby caught the motives behind that action.
…Bringing the boy inside would also mean inviting in more police officers that are on Clement’s side… Since a child is in the picture, refusing the request would open up accusations of organisational cruelty…
Judge Thyme responded: “It would be best to ask Doctor Alphys, the owner of these premises.”
“I see, I see.” Clement nodded as he sat down on the cushions. “I don’t see her around. Perhaps later. Back to Sir Grillenn: did you scout him from Ebott Town?”
“Yes.” The Magus responded.
“Are there any more strong monsters like him?”
“Not as many as you’d think.”
“Hahaha! Sometimes even one could be too many. For example, the shady looking bloke in the corner.” Clement nodded his head towards Sans.
“Hmph,” said Judge Thyme, “Pay him no mind. He’s just doing his job.”
…Under whose orders? Judge Thyme’s, or King Asgore’s?…
Leaning against the chair, Clement tossed a comment. “That guy’s a skeleton, right? I hear the clergy are already posting videos online, warning the public against interacting with such creatures. Said they’re agents of the devil.”
The Magus’ grip on his cane tightened. That remark was an indirect insult towards his beloved, whether the policeman realised it or not. “Are you proposing that ‘an agent of the devil’ is capable of wearing a holy crucifix on his being?”
“Why not? Crosses don’t hold any power. If they did, they would have burned the skin of every human criminal and gang member out there. They’re of the same level of filth if you ask me.”
“…I would advise against further pursuing that train of thought.”
“Apologies. What I’m trying to say is, most people would be beholden to their own biases. As Eldin would say, ‘if it quacks like a duck, it’s a bloody duck’. In that same vein, monsters are monstrous in every sense of the word.”
…I shouldn’t be surprised about the demonising of monsters, considering how we once thought of humans…
…Much blood and dust shed, yet so few laughters shared… The fear of the unknown drives many mad…
…Yellow Child, I wonder… If you had thought of me as a demon from Hell before we talked?…
Not long after, King Asgore, Queen Toriel, and the self-proclaimed ‘Prince Asriel’ descended from the upper floors. Flowey immediately hid behind Grillby’s back, unable to face his own parents.
Although the royal couple was happy at first, their expressions turned serious the moment they saw who sat on the chair.
“Oh dear,” said the King, “That is not who we expected… I thought Commissioner Eldin would be here by now.”
The Queen added: “Son, perhaps we should assist in these diplomatic discussions?”
But Prince Asriel shook his head. “Father, Mother, please allow me to proceed alone. This is where I must prove myself.”
Although reluctant, they let the Merged Boss Monster attend the meeting without their aid.
“M-meanwhile, I shall make some tea for everyone.”
“And I will check on your other siblings.”
They left for the kitchen, where both of their objectives aligned. The flower peeked out from his hiding spot only once they were out of sight.
“Howdy,” said the goat prince, “I am Prince Asriel Dreemurr. As you are not Commissioner Eldin, I’m guessing that you’re one of his Assistant Commissioners?”
“Correct. I’m Assistant Commissioner Clement Eccleston. One of his right hand men, you might consider.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but I thought that position would be the rank of Deputy Commissioner?”
“Hm? It seems that you have considerable knowledge about human society. Technically, you’re correct. However, in this generation, we thought that it’s best to split the responsibilities between five Assistants instead of a single Deputy.”
“To lessen the load, I see!” The Prince smiled. “Then, I suppose we can discuss this issue together with Judge Thyme.”
The ‘representative’ of monsterkind settled down on a solo armchair, keeping a distance between the Magus and the policeman.
…King Asgore and Queen Toriel had only one son… And he is currently riding on my shoulder… Therefore, it’s impossible for this self-proclaimed Prince Asriel to be the exact same entity…
Meanwhile, Frisk and Cenna snuck out some sandwiches from the kitchen. The child glanced towards the scene with a stoic face, before hurrying off to the Lab’s backyard.
…Frisk’s secretive behaviour confirms my suspicions…
…This ‘Prince Asriel’ is an impostor from Lemuria…
…Any monster who doesn’t come from Ebott… Is certain to be connected that island in some way…
The Prince in all his elegance, issued his proposal: “Judge Thyme, Sir Clement, I wish to address the controversy surrounding The Royal Dreemurr Family. King Asgore, my father, once declared war against humanity. To make matters worse, Doctor W. D. Gaster disclosed to mankind that he had controlled the crown from the shadows. My former self’s demise seems to have caused an irreparable fissure, allowing corruption to fester.”
“Therefore,” he placed his hand on his chest. “I propose to bear the burden of the crown as King Asriel. Through my efforts, I seek the pardon of humanity’s own kings and queens. Please, let my parents retire in peace.”
…If he is of Lemurian royalty, ascending as King Asriel would unite both nations under his rule…
…They’re the very same nation who tried to destroy us… I cannot place any trust in this deal…
Clement leaned back in his seat, letting his arms stretch across the cushions. “Didn’t some of your citizens lose their families to a rampage? I saw it on the news, when your parents gave a press conference. Your father explained that a human child had stomped on your tinier species. Giving up on war also means giving up on vengeance.”
The Prince replied, “Mercy for mercy, good sir. I swear as King, I will bury the hatchet between the two races.”
…This is not looking good at all… Even as a Knight of Berendin, I don’t have the status to speak directly in political matters… Clement would try to accuse me of meddling in affairs that I do not belong…
The next best course of action was to have Flowey, the other ‘Prince Asriel’, do the talking. At least his dust was verified by Doctor Alphys. However, the flower seemed to be in a daze at the moment, intimidated by his rival.
Whispering into the petals, Grillby said, “…Flowey, act as our prince… Hurry…”
No response. Drastic measures were required. So, he lit a small flame near the flower’s vine.
Flowey yelped in pain from the burning heat. “HEY, WHAT THE HECK?!?”
Grillby cleared his throat and glared at the Flower. Then he nodded his head towards The Prince.
“Uh, YEAH! What the heck?!” Mustering a little courage, Flowey slapped his leaf down in protest. “What about me?! Did you forget??? I’m the real Prince Asriel!”
Clement said, “Ah, yes, apparently the little flower is also the former Prince Asriel. How does one explain the presence of two princes, both claiming the same identity?”
“Sir,” said the Prince, “Both of us are Asriel’s revival. I reincarnated into a newborn monster carrying the memories of my past life, while Flowey is an artificial soulless construct created from our old remains. And, as far as I know, Flowey had long abdicated his crown.”
Grillby narrowed his gaze in scepticism.
…What kind of a philosophical circus are we spinning here?… A man may be made by his memories… Yet the truth lies in the essence…
…A bratty version of Prince Asriel will remain as Prince Asriel… Likewise an impostor will always be an impostor, no matter how much he attempts to emulate Prince Asriel…
Frustrated, Flowey replied, “Wh-what if I become Prince again?”
Judge Thyme let out a loud huff. “Are you serious? Flowey, with all due respect you’re nowhere near prepared for any royal duties. The crown is a heavy burden. In fact, not even the other Prince Asriel here is ready, despite his claims of experience.”
The statement caught The Prince by surprise. “Oh? Why do you think so, Judge Thyme?”
“Do you know how this nation is managed, with all its strengths and flaws? Are you steeped in the culture of its citizens? What about their values and their dreams? Have you talked with any of them at least once, as King Asgore had? Your father has reigned for a thousand-years. His recent missteps pale in comparison to his vast history of successes.”
In response, The Prince lowered his head and admitted: “You are correct. Any knowledge I have about my old homeland is outdated by 60 years. In addition, I was a naive and immature youngling back then, who paid little attention to my parents’ hard work.”
Flowey leaned forward and exclaimed: “I know everybody and what they do! I’ve spent a long time observing. You know that, Thyme!”
In which The Prince responded: “My dear younger self, do you know how to apply that knowledge? A ruler must keep a cool head even when the situation becomes stressful or annoying. More so when oneself feels inadequate.”
With only the words of his tongue, The Prince struck Flowey at his weakness with the precision and swiftness of a rapier. Grillby felt the flower wilting from the lack of confidence.
“I… I can learn!” Flowey tried to counter.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
But The Prince turned that attempt against him. “And I have spent decades learning to learn. All I need is Father’s guidance.”
Judge Thyme shook his head. “As it stands, both of you are incomplete halves of Prince Asriel. I cannot accept either of you.”
…The Lemurian Prince insists on taking up the crown by himself… He has the option to collaborate with Flowey as a co-ruler and learn from each other… Yet he’s not proposing it…
…Peaceful conquest is his aim… Sans, you must have noticed this too…
Judge Thyme ignored both pleas. “How about this? Let the people decide who they want as their King: the incumbent King Asgore or his son Prince Asriel.”
Both the flower and the goat widened their eyes.
“Which son?” Flowey asked. “Me, or him?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
“…Are you serious, old man? Is this some kind of a prank?”
“What is your alternative? A sudden change of hands? A tenuous limbo? A coup? The last thing we need is a succession crisis. Do it tomorrow. At the same time, the populace should vote whether or not The Seven Soul Barrier should be cast over the whole of Ebott Town.”
“T-the Barrier?! The same one I broke?!”
“A modern version, to be exact. But yes, that very same Barrier.”
“You can’t be serious! We spent a thousand YEARS under that thing! And now you want it back???”
“The Seven Soul Barrier will give The Dreemurr Nation time to rebuild and strengthen its borders. In its current condition, the town is at risk of being overrun. Another riot like today’s would jeopardise everything we’ve worked towards.”
The Prince rubbed his chin. “Thinking it through, that proposal is quite sensible. Yes, perhaps we should let the citizens decide. I don’t wish to impose myself unnecessarily either.”
“But… but…! Bah! Fine,” Flowey sulked. “I-I’m going to run for this election too! Somehow! Anything better than an usurping upstart yoinking Frisk’s home right under their noses.”
…I see… On such short notice, The Lemurian Prince won’t have time to woo enough of the populace to pass the government into his hands… He doesn’t have any means to provide solid proof of his identity either…
…King Asgore should win the majority vote by a landslide… The voices of the Dreemurr Nation will ring loud and clear… and all disputes shall be settled…
…In addition, Flowey is certain to lose… This will allow him to withdraw from the public and return to obscurity… Just as he always wanted…
When Grillby thought every party was satisfied, Clement burst out into a cynical laughter, slapping his hand on his knee several times. He was absolutely in stitches.
“An election?” He said, “Of all the possible gambits you could choose, you settled for an election? To leave fate in the hands of uneducated rabble? What happened to the hardboiled Mezil Thyme I knew, who’d dare skew the course of mankind with his machinations? Have you gone soft with age? I suppose this town of fairytale creatures truly is magical.”
“Unless…” Clement made his conclusion. “There’s more to this ploy. I expect nothing less from the likes of you, and your organisation.”
… It wouldn’t surprise me that Judge Thyme had used the power of time to install his desired candidates in high places… It’s clear that he trusts Roger Eldin more than Clement Eccleston…
…For every victor, there is a loser… Nothing stings more than unfair competition… Whatever may be the definition of ‘unfairness’ in their minds…
While maintaining his smile, Clement sighed. “So much for being the Keepers of Peace. Ever since this ‘Dreemurr Nation’ appeared overnight, it’s been monsters first, humans second.”
Judge Thyme huffed. “Baseless accusations. The Magus Association’s primary purpose has always been to protect humanity from errant magic. Even after the monsters emerged from under Mount Ebott, we continued our efforts to thwart evildoers that insist on abusing magic for their own personal gain: be they criminals, terrorists, heretics or DEMONs. Protecting Ebott Town is but another means to that end.”
“You say that, but I find it difficult to believe. For a man who claims to detest politicians, you sure talk and act like one.” Clement pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “The Supreme Judge’s leniency is proof of his guilt… or so I wish I could say. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to use this yet despite preparing it. Maybe today will be the day?”
Flowey swiped the paper with his vine to read it together with Grillby.
…An arrest warrant?!.. Tax evasion?!… Fraud?!… Forgery?!… Undermining the safety and security of the country?!…
Flowey exclaimed, “HUH??? You wanna arrest Mezil? Are you an idiot?!?”
The Prince was confused as well. “Is this divergence relevant to our current situation?”
“Very much so,” Clement expressed, “It’s rather roundabout, so please bear with me.”
“It all began with my investigations into his adoptive father-in-law. Official statements say the title of ‘Grandmaster’ is bestowed upon each newly appointed head of the Berendin household as a mantle and a mask. Their former life is considered nonexistent thereafter. In this way, there would always be a Grandmaster, and he would always be a direct male descendant of Mezil of Berendin: the founder of the organisation.”
“Mezil of Berendin was an interesting man, to say the least. In a time when his House was slated for extinction, he suddenly rose to prominence as a successful businessman. As the story goes, he was presumed dead after an unfortunate accident… only for him to return a decade later with a small cult following, bringing a swift end to the Sealing War.”
“Likewise, the present day Grandmaster is just as peculiar, if not more so. Under his mysterious guidance, the existence of magic was announced to the world, while his school opened up to members of the public. Since then, this same Grandmaster has dealt with magical mayhem after magical mayhem, where previously there was none.”
“The murder of Supreme Judge James Pashowar was the icing on the cake. His replacement Supreme Judge – a virtual unknown sharing the Mezil name – only made matters worse by wrangling with global politics, collaborating with terrorists and outcasts, culminating in the present day crisis.”
“I’ll be frank, Judge Thyme. I don’t like you, or your organisation. In my eyes, you’re the mafia of magic: a corrupt bunch of quasi do-gooders, striving for some unknown hidden agenda like you’re the human Doctor Gaster.”
“Alas, you are ‘innocent until proven guilty’. And I will say, you’ve got this operation locked down pretty tight. But nobody’s perfect. All it takes is but one misstep for the whole house of cards to collapse. …Which brings me to your apparent wife.”
Judge Thyme’s glare intensified. He might have resisted the urge to shut Clement up so far, but that may not last much longer at this current rate.
…Clement’s claims are inaccurate, but they’re too close to the truth for comfort… Judge Thyme knows this… Therefore he cannot object without making himself look guilty…
The policeman continued making his case despite the spike in hostility. “Lady Lucidia: an enigma not unlike the Grandmaster. Who is this elusive adoptive daughter of House Berendin anyway? No one had ever seen her true face, therefore no one could verify that she even exists. This presents quite a pickle for our current Supreme Judge, who enjoys lavish yet potentially illegal tax returns on the basis of his pretend marriage.”
“However, all my efforts always came up empty. Every level of bureaucracy insisted that Lucidia of House Berendin is an actual person, regardless of evidence to the contrary. I didn’t understand why. Until, one day, I stumbled across a curious piece of information. Almost by accident, really. Lo and behold, I had unearthed her birth name: Lucidia of Montagu.”
…Montagu?… I don’t recognize the significance… Yet from the way Clement acts, it must be important…
“Ah, your Knight seems confused. I suppose you didn’t have the time to brief him about our upper echelon. I should let you do the honours.”
Flowey leaned over. “Yeah old man, who are they?”
Suppressing his ever-growing displeasure, Judge Thyme explained: “House Montagu is one of our country’s oldest noble houses, second only to the Royal Family.”
Clement straightened his collar. “That’s right. And as you can perhaps understand, it’s not a name to be taken lightly. It thus started to make sense why everyone dissuaded me from further pursuit. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t tempted to drop the matter too. A lesser man would have surely yielded to the pressure and forgotten about the whole situation. But… I am not a lesser man. And this Montagu cover story was way too convenient to be true.”
“Now, since the path to Montagu was blocked, I began tracing other houses who had positive connections with Lord Berendin. This led me down a curious rabbit hole, researching the burial records of nobles from the present day back to the Sealing War. There I found the strangest thing: testimonies of grave robbers, claiming to have found empty tombs, many of them, from Montagu to Berendin and everything in between.”
“It’s this web of seemingly unrelated curiosities that has stumped me to this day. But…” His attention switched to The Prince upon that instant. “I think I’ve finally obtained the final piece of the puzzle. Thanks to you.”
“M-me???” ‘The self-proclaimed Prince Asriel muttered.
“Yes, you. Everyone knows that you died 60 years ago. Yet, only mere moments after Doctor Gaster showcased the miracle of rebirth, you and the flower both claim to be Prince Asriel reborn, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Tell me then, where have you been for the past sixty years? It would be impossible for you to live your life unnoticed on the surface, or under the mountain.”
“I--”
Clement refused to give The Prince even a remote chance to explain himself. “Here’s what I think. Lady Lucidia and the Grandmaster, they aren’t human; they are monsters. The graves of those nobles were never robbed. Ah, they weren’t even buried to begin with. Thanks to House Berendin, their remains would be shipped to some faraway land to be born anew as monsters. Those sealed under Mount Ebott were nothing more than props for propaganda: a legend meant to trick us humans into thinking that there are no other monsters remaining on The Surface.”
The officer dropped his smile. He stood up and drew his gun from his holster, pointing it square at the Merged Boss Monster.
“Mezil Thyme, I will not allow this foreign puppet king to be installed on humanity’s soil.”
The Prince responded in kind. A spike of Determination emanated from within. His facial expression switched from elegant gentleness to cold stoicness. The hilt of a red sword spawned in his right hand, and his feet shifted.
…That… That’s a swordsman’s stance… Whichever DEMON is inside The Prince, they’re ready to fight…
But in a snap, Asriel returned to his former self. Mustering his will, he held down his sword arm. “K-Kr-Chara, stop!” he exclaimed. “Judge Thyme will protect us. We’re okay. It’s scary, but we’re still okay. ”
Meanwhile, Flowey curled up behind Grillby and covered his head with his leaves, sobbing.
…The Prince is a Lemurian impostor, yet if he perishes here nothing will stop a war of the ages…
…And Flowey… I don’t want them to witness a repeat of that tragedy…
Grilby moved in, readying himself to tackle Clement on a moment’s notice.
The policeman wasn’t pleased with this development. “In case you’ve forgotten, only the human Mezil Thyme has the protection of civil rights. With that in mind, isn’t it better if you monsters step aside and protect those who’re more vulnerable?”
“…The most vulnerable person here… is you… So please, lower your weapon…”
“Nonsense. Have you forgotten I already have this entire laboratory surrounded?”
At that declaration, Sans too began to walk. The gears of his thoughts, churning. His Eye, glowing.
…Sans!… Don’t get involved!… If anything happens to Clement, the rest of his forces will charge in!… You should know that I can handle this alone!…
Grillby stretched his fingers, preparing to shut down Sans’ Seer’s Eye. Yet, he knew that any action on his end would be misinterpreted as an act of aggression by Clement, setting off the gun or the signal to invade.
When Sans got closer, though, Grillby noticed something very, very wrong. Thin, glowing red strings criss-crossed around the skeleton’s neck.
…Puppet strings? Isn’t that the curse that plagued Point Alpha?!?…
…He’s being controlled!…
The fire elemental switched targents to Sans. In one swift motion, he disabled the Seer’s Eye from afar, before leaping in to pin the skeleton down, making sure to keep the short one held face-first to the ground.
He was sure that he heard Flowey scream in the midst of his sudden jump. “Give me a heads up next time, will you??? That was SCARY! Anyways, let’s tie this trashbag up--”
“…Don’t!…”
Sans’ bones rattled against the ground, seizing up. Cursed strings whipped out in all directions, cutting through the unfortunate coffee table and shredding the sofa cushions. Some of the strands almost sliced poor Flowey in several ways.
Panicking, The Prince swung his red sword around in an effort to cut the flying strings. However, his heel bumped against his seat, causing him to fall backwards into the cushion. He was left wide open without any time to recover.
Grillby grabbed the flying cords with his two hands. His flames trailed through the strings, burning their Determination down to the source. The feedback nipped off any new strings before they could do further harm.
And with that, the threat was neutralised.
Still in shock, The Prince remained frozen in place, unable to form so much as a thought.
As for Clement, he emerged from his hiding spot behind the half-destroyed sofa. “What was that? It’s the same nonsense that happened at the border!”
On the other hand, Judge Thyme didn’t even flinch. “I said he’s on the job, didn’t I? Although this man was initially my bodyguard, Gungnir hijacked his body with their curse. I couldn’t make any obvious statements lest they spring the trap on me.”
“Aha, I understand now. You’ve been held hostage right before my very own eyes. My apologies for this appalling oversight despite my experience.”
“All is well, officer. I trusted everyone’s judgement should the need arise. Thank you, Sir Grillenn. I… was in quite a bind.”
Standing up, The Supreme Judge walked over to the pinned down victim. He pulled back the hood and revealed the same constantly-shifting erroneous symbol that once troubled the border.
Although dangerous, the Mark itself was weak. It shattered upon a single tap of his cane. Grillby let him go, and Sans managed to push himself back on his own two feet without any issues.
…Still no response?… Not even a single nod?… There’s definitely something wrong here…
He then heard an approaching yell from the outside. It grew louder at a rapid pace.
Flowey hopped off the shoulder. “What’s going on?” He slithered to the window and pressed the side of his face against it. “I think… I think I heard… Papyrus?”
“….NYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
A bone bike crashed through the laboratory window, comically punting Flowey aside. Doctor Alphys, Queen Toriel, and King Asgore rushed into the lobby. They stared at the wanton destruction with a slack jaw and an ever slacker teapot. Tea flowed free from the spout and straight to the floor.
Papyrus panted while his Seer’s Eye flickered. On the top of his tired ribs, he yelled: “S-STOP… STOP EVERYTHING!!! I -- THE GREAT PAPYRUS -- HAVE FOUND A SOLUTION TO YOUR WOES!!!!”
The hardy little flower prince popped right back up. “I’m fine! Totally okay!” Sliding over to Papyrus, he asked, “How about YOU? You look exhausted!”
“NEVERMIND ME. WE NEED TO WAIT FOR COPMAN ROGER! HE’LL BE HERE VERY, VERY SOON!”
And soon, it was. Commissioner Roger Eldin himself limped through the front entrance with Hannah Eccleston supporting him. He seemed to have hurt his leg on the job.
The once so hardboiled subordinate cheerfully welcomed his boss. “Roger, you’re alive! We couldn’t contact you, so I thought you’re in trouble.”
“Goshdarn right ‘twas ‘trouble’! Shit went bonkers in a blink! Rubbish robots whooshing in the sky, a wicked wonky explosion of light, and then I got me shins kicked in by that bloody Gungnir lass while I was preventing a stampede! Hooligans, I tell ya. Chavs, all of ‘em! Anyway, Commander Eccleston already filled me in on why you guys came here. Thanks for trying to save my hide. ”
The gruff veteran looked in the direction of the destroyed sofas. “Looks like you guys ain’t doing any better. Huh? What’s this?”
The tip of Roger Eldin’s boot stepped on the folded arrest warrant. He picked it up and gave its contents a quick read. With a tired, deadpan tone, he asked: “Clem, you dunderhead, are ya trying to ruin whatever reputation we have left as a police force?”
Clement heartily laughed back, jesting. “Ha, we’ve already hit rock bottom decades ago, if you believe the internet.”
“That don’t mean you gotta dig down into magma! Okay, I get that Old Thymer had been fishier than a chum bucket. Suddenly turning around meddling with terrorists and whatnot. I swear the Sun rose on the freaking west that day. Howbeit, I called His Majesty before I skedaddled on over to Ebott Town. Turns out that the late King issued special orders for Ol’ Thymer, and his son intends to respect that. Also, the young chap loved how the whole ‘Feast of Fantasy’ developed.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep.” Roger handed his phone over to Clement. “Here’s the voicemail His Majesty left for ya, in case you showed up. Explains everything from start to finish.”
The other police officer holstered his gun and held the phone next to his ear. He listened intently to those recorded words of great authority.
“Oh… haha…” Clement handed the phone back with a nervous chuckle. “I see, I see. I have almost committed the blunder of the decade. You’ve saved my hide too, Roger.”
“No problem, mate. Good that we’re both on the same page now. Come help me put the real criminals behind bars.”
“Absolutely.”
Clement left with Roger without a single fuss, as if the previous drama never happened. No more accusations, no more suspicions. Nothing. It was nothing short of a miracle.
Papyrus offered a hand to Flowey. “FLOWERY, YOU SHOULD FOLLOW ME. CHARA DID GREAT THIS TIME!”
“Did they?”
“YES! THEY HELPED ME CAPTURE THE HUMANS FLAWLESSLY!”
Hearing that, the flower prince grinned. “Oh boy, now I wanna see that for myself. Let’s go, Papyrus!”
The skeleton and the plant had an unusual friendship indeed. Still, it warmed Grillby’s heart to see them get along.
Since everything had resolved for the time being, Judge Thyme breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his shoulders. “Sir Grillenn, come with me. We have work to do.”
“Wait!” The false prince called out, “I would like to speak to Sir Grillenn in private, if I may. It will only take a moment.”
Although reluctant, Judge Thyme granted the permission with a simple nod. He headed over to Doctor Alphys and the Dreemurrs. “I apologise for this unprecedented disaster. Let me help you fix this mess.”
Left alone with Grillby, ‘Prince Asriel’ expressed his gratitude with a deep bow: “Thank you for saving me.”
The former Captain of the Royal Guard had not forgotten how Lemuria had sent Malaya to destroy their nation. Therefore, any praise or recognition coming from their representative left an unpleasant, bitter taste. Nevertheless, he must remain courteous. Bowing back, he replied: “…It was my duty…”
“I will admit, I was worried that you would focus solely on Judge Thyme’s safety. I understand that I am giving you quite a hard time, so there may be some temptation to ignore my wellbeing.”
Putting up his best stoic bartender’s face, he replied: “…My Lord would not want harm to befall on anyone… Now please excuse me, I have other matters to attend…”
The Prince then said, “Sir Grillenn, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I am not deriding you. Rather, I’m impressed by your loyalty.”
“…Please elaborate…”
“A king who surrounds himself with sycophants is bound to lose his throne. You do not serve a single crown or nation, instead you serve the greater good… even if it means doing something contradictory or unpopular. That, kind sir, is true loyalty: a code of honour that I deeply respect.”
The Prince placed his hand on his chest, “I have my own code of honour as well: a calling beyond. I understand that you still have your reservations, but I hope that time will allow me to prove my sincerity.”
With his little speech done, The Prince excused himself. “I shall return to my parents’ side now. They must be quite concerned. Good day to you, Knight of Berendin.”
“…Good day, Prince Asriel…”
The two parted ways. Grillby began to contemplate. He knew he had made many promises, and he intended to keep them. It was the reason why he chose to be in Mezil’s service, volunteering for missions away from the land of his birth.
Yet, despite renewed convictions, the false prince’s words stirred pricklings of inner doubt.