Kent obviously hadn’t resisted. Half of the people at the gate had been level ninety or higher. One of the identifications of the guards had only returned question marks. He was glad now that he hadn’t picked Label of Innocuousness, they would have seen through it, and he would have been in even more trouble.

That would have been a surefire way to get himself impaled or cut, which he was glad hadn’t happened.

Kent was still confused why he had been arrested. There was no explanation on why he was being detained in the first place. They should have heard of Blueleaf’s fate by now. But maybe they saw something different when identifying him. Did it maybe say mass murderer for them. Kent could swear that his face grew slightly green at the thought, and he grew uncomfortable.

He hadn’t been brought far after his arrest. Depending on definition he was still not within city limits, as the town’s guards had merely shoved Kent into one of the guardhouses and told him to stay in the corner until another person arrived. The had also warned him of doing any ‘illegal trait’ stuff. And the two guards stationed in the room with him, only reinforced that warning.

At some point he had even been offered some water and a meal in a bowl, that looked like a sort of pre-first-harvest stew. He had of course accepted both. Not having any real food for weeks now and too little water were only minor reasons. Kent was convinced that politeness opened a lot of gates, and so he would make everyone think of him as a decently nice person. Fully aware that it might not even work on most people. Just impressions and stuff you were told were important factors, looks too, and sadly he wasn’t a looker.

The sun was still above the horizon when someone else entered the cobbled building and sat down on one of the six wooden chairs, pointedly ignoring Kent. He could tell that it was intentional ignoring for she had been made aware of Kent’s presence in more than one way.

Human - ??? - ???

The guard’s weary posture, their weapons suddenly raised in a semi-threatening way towards him, and the shackles that were audibly brought down on his hands by one of the guards were just some of the ways she had been made aware.

The other guard, not occupied with suddenly keeping Kent restrained had dropped in a bow, spoke in a rhythmic cadence, as though reciting a poem.

Kent couldn’t catch what he was saying, but it sounded almost ritualistic. Either it was in another language, and he failed to properly comprehend it, or his senses were too poor. He guessed it would be the second.

The woman, dressed in the seldomly seen formal robes of the former aristocracy, had he not seen them in a story book of his childhood, he wouldn’t have known to place them. Wide garments, wild and billowing with tones in different pastel colors intermixing into a wild play of colors. Though it still looked organized, with each piece of fabric only of one color it didn’t look like it at a first glance, but when someone actually observed the garment its elegance became apparent. It was a masterwork.

“Information passed along from Reinsteel stated that all former Blueleaf citizens have been harbored in Reinsteel,” the woman stated.

Kent tried to analyze the statement, to figure out what the woman was getting at.

Kent wanted to respond. Explain the situation of how being here. Yet, he slowly began understanding what the woman was getting at. The new information situation had thrown a rock into his axel, but he could keep rolling like this.

What did become apparent was that Farburg had a well-established and organized town guard. The fact that seemingly every member on guard duty had been in the know of the situation spoke at least of good communication.

Though before he got a word out, he crumbled over with a fist in his stomach, a few points of Health less, and a firm hand over his mouth.

“Do not disrespect the Lady,” came the warning from the guard that had punched him in the gut.

He didn’t even know what he was punished for, until a forceful hand forced him into a bow. It took a lot of willpower to do anything stupid like tell them of how he didn’t know any of that stuff.

“Now,” the woman continued. “There have also been some conflicting reports on the matter, which I’m sure we can come to the bottom of. Let’s start with an easy question.”

With a light click a spell core landed on the table, and even before the Kent could form the mental question of what this was about, she shattered it. With a deep breath she inhaled the shards – the former shards he realized. From one blink to the next the shards had turned into mist.

“I’m sure you know what happens to liars,” her tone threatening. “Only yes or no answers for now. Did baron Sungrove or anyone in his political circle send you?”

“Is that the…” but another fist landed in Kent’s gut. It was still uncomfortable, but not really as painful as he had expected. The guard was seemingly pacing itself, trying to only hurt him. But he didn’t look like a physical fighter, so they were careful, which was to his advantage.

Got it, only yes and no.

“No,” he croaked out, intentionally overexaggerating the pain in his voice. He didn’t know of such a baron, so how could they send him.

Kent couldn’t see the woman’s face, but it was still obvious from her posture that she had not expected such a response. It took a few moments but soon enough she asked the next questions.

“Have you ever interacted with nobility, people acting in the name of nobility, or direct subjects of nobility before?”

“No,” he said, with more heft and certainty to his voice. The ‘before’ was of special note here, it implied something.

“Did someone to tell you to come here?”

“Yes. No.” though this time the wasn’t struck even though he replied with multiple answers. But each had felt like a lie to a degree, but both had been the truth as well. The woman picked up on that somehow.

“What is your agenda here?”

“No,” he responded phrasing it more like a question, still trying to keep to the rule of only yes’s and no’s. “Uhm, can I respond with something else,” Kent asked preparing to get hit again.

“You may, for now.”

“Heading to Farburg was recommended by a family friend as an option.”

“Why would they recommend you to come here?”

“Because my family and I have recently been more distant, in conflict some might say. And I’m pretty sure my father would dispose of me, should he see me again.”

“Elaborate,” she instructed

“I’m from a farming village as you no doubt are aware, and well I didn’t really get the sort of trait he wanted me to have,” he was skirting the rules of not lying hard here. But apparently, he really had been lucky and whatever the woman used to cause to give him the feeling of truth and lies didn’t trigger.

“Traditionalist?”

“My father? Yes, you could say that. The rest of my family not as much.”

“Thank you for informing me officer Reinhold,” the woman turned around addressing the man that had cuffed Kent previously and had prevented him from speaking once. “You maybe continue the evaluation of this man and decide on his ‘exile’ status by morning tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Hold that thought,” she had already gotten up and taken a step to the door.

“Boy, would you consider yourself a danger to society or to citizens of Issar? Do you want to or plan on harming a citizen of Issar,” she addressed Kent.

“No, I don’t,” he was going to leave that statement like that, but the way she had worded the question the aery feeling of lie came over him so he continued. “I mean I could be one, I guess. In the same way everyone else could be. But I don’t want to be one. And I don’t want to become one and I don’t want to harm citizens of Issar.”

“Officer, ask your opinion. I’ll remove the status for now and you keep him for the night, see if any of his statements negate what he has said thus far? I’ll leave a core with you.”

“Yes, my lady. Your will be done.”

The rest of the interrogation went much like Kent had originally planned for it to go. Two officers kept him in the room until sometime late at night, continuously asking him questions about allegiances, and what his plans were. His family situation and village were a topic to a lesser degree. When they asked him about his trait, he said that his specialty was metal but as-of-yet he couldn’t do very much. And it wasn’t an issue.

It became increasingly obvious that whatever the officer did with the spell cores was way less effective on Kent than what the woman had done. The impressions of wrongness were non-existent, and even implied falsehoods resulted in no consequences.

Whether this was a quality of the spell core they had been given or related to the users individual capabilities, experience, or skills was uncertain. But like with so many things under the system he suspected it was a result of all the above. And with how nobles had been talked about, they wouldn’t give something valuable to a servant. That was, if the woman really was a noble.

All Kent new for certain was that he was way out of his depths here.

At some point the guards offered him to spend the remainder of the night within one of the holding-cells within the walls. When they saw him initially hesitant they even gave him a key and led him off to the cell. Telling him to stay here for the night and that he had been mostly cleared. If he didn’t want any more trouble he would come down to the guard station, preferably this one, in a week again. With another bowl of food in his belly he went to sleep. This time the meal had been a lot more pleasant, the combination of grains, legumes, and vegetables more satisfying than what he had in weeks.

That new tidbit of information had been a bit of a shock to him. Literal weeks. Almost three weeks, twenty-two days, so just two days under the mark had passed since the attack on Blueleaf.

After less rest than he had hoped for, he was awoken by the guard’s shift change. The sudden blearing of a horn had not only woken him, but also almost catapulted him across the room from clenching muscles that reacted to his shock. He had been able to barely grab onto his bench and thus only flobbed from the field bed to the ground.

Apparently, someone was informed about his situation as he was brought another round of food and asked to leave the premises and be a model citizen, unless he wanted to be an exile anew.

His knapsack was returned and a minor inspection Kent confirmed that nothing was amiss. In fact, they had even filled his water-canteen for him and wound a piece of parchment around his thaumic dagger with writing on it.

‘Ask for The Broken Shovel or Hyamdal’s Hammer and Forge for cheap or good repairs.’

The damage his initial forcible mana infusion had caused hadn’t really been bad in the beginning but over the course of continued use the tip had completely broken off. That didn’t really affect the performance of the blade thus far. Partially because the break-off point was slightly angled and thus still had a sharp edge, and because the material of the dagger was something that tended to be used on the higher end of the sub one-hundred levels.

All in all, the guard had treated him fairly well for the most part. At least once you ignored the time ‘the lady’ was in the room. Though he felt like he had missed something during the questioning, that could potentially be important.

Before he completely left the premise, he approached another of the guards that seemed to currently be unoccupied.

“Excuse me, Sir,” he began pulling out the smallest of his spell cores and kept talking. “Could you tell me where I might be able to sell this? Or direct me to the marketplace. I’m new in town so any help would be appreciated.”

“Hmm, you’re the former ‘exile’ huh?” he glanced over Kent’s entire attire. “Some better clothing surely would do you well, and a bath as well. I don’t know if they’ll let you in the second district like this, but you could try. Enchanters surely would be interested, mesmers as well, but good luck finding one that works in the open. I for one have not heard of the tranquil aspect, so you might also try the local branch of the royal institute. If they don’t let you into the second district try the foreign goods market, that’s this way,” he pointed down to the left of the gate. “If you follow the wall for about 15 minutes. People should be able to help you should you get lost.”

Kent certainly agreed with the second point, and he had tried to keep as clean as possible and even washed up when he came across rivers and streams, but he was still rather filthy. The other tips all were helpful so after asking for the way to the second district he followed the instructions and walked further inwards.