Chapter 5: The Testimony

Bastien and I arrive in front of the Royal Army’s Headquarters, and—yeah, it’s as massive and imposing as I expected. The towering stone walls and grandiose banners do a great job of making a person feel both safe and slightly insignificant.

The entrance alone could probably fit three entire houses inside it. The kind of place that screams, Yes, we have authority. Fear us.

As we step inside, the interior is just as extravagant. Soldiers stand rigid at every corner of the halls, their armor polished to a near-blinding shine under the flickering chandelier light. Others march past us, balancing ridiculous stacks of paperwork that look dangerously close to toppling over. Some officers sit behind desks, attentively dealing with civilians, which—oddly enough—makes this place feel less like an ancient war fortress and more like a bureaucratic nightmare.

Honestly? This is just a medieval police department in isekai mode. All it's missing is some guy in a uniform asking me to take a number and have a seat.

After climbing way too many stairs—seriously, did they build this place specifically to punish people with bad stamina?—we reach an imposing set of double doors.

I stop just before we enter. “Wait. Are we just… walking in? Don’t we need an appointment or something?”

Bastien gives me a blank stare, as if I’ve just asked whether water is wet. “No need for appointments during an emergency.”

He pushes open the doors and gestures for me to step inside like I’m being offered as tribute.

The moment we enter, the room drops into silence.

It’s a large, stately chamber, lined with high windows that cast long shadows across the polished floors. Every high-ranking officer in the room turns to look at us, eyes sharp and assessing. The weight of their stares is almost physical, like standing under a spotlight.

One man at the head of the room rises from his seat. Judging by the sheer number of medals weighing down his uniform, he’s important—probably the commander.

“Your Highness,” he says, bowing deeply, and the others quickly follow suit. “We weren’t expecting you today. Weren’t you away with His Highness, the Third Prince, to investigate Olfea?”

Bastien waves a dismissive hand. “At ease, Commander Doricq. No, I have come today to present someone who may assist in investigating the Olfea incident.”

The Commander stares at me for a good while before he clears his throat, “And who might this young lady be, your Highness?”

And that’s my cue.

I step forward, acutely aware of every pair of eyes drilling into me. It’s like standing in front of a jury while wearing a sign that says DEFENDANT.

“Uh… good morning?” I flash a smile that’s probably more nervous than charming.

Commander Doricq studies me for a moment before clearing his throat. “And who might this young lady be, Your Highness?”

Bastien turns to me with a small, reassuring nod. I clear my throat. “Celeste, sir. I’m from Olfea.”

The reaction is immediate—gasps, whispers, shocked expressions.

Seriously? Do these people think no one from Olfea could possibly have survived? Judging by their expressions, I may as well have claimed to be a ghost here to deliver testimony from the afterlife.

Everyone seems stunned, except for one man sitting off to the side, stroking his short beard with a smug little smirk. His narrowed eyes lock onto me like he’s already decided he doesn’t trust a single word out of my mouth.

“Can we trust the testimony of this young lady, Your Highness?” Smug Idiot asks, his tone dripping with skepticism.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Who is this guy?

Bastien’s gaze hardens as he looks at him. “Yes.”

That should be the end of it, but Smug Idiot just smiles faintly, like he knows something the rest of us don’t. “Very well. I will trust your judgment, Your Highness.”

I don’t know who he is, but I already want to trip him.

Before I can get the chance to verbally annihilate him, Commander Doricq gestures for me to sit. “Please, have a seat.”

I do, with Bastien settling into the chair behind me—close enough that I can still see him in my peripheral vision.

The room remains heavy with silence until an officer finally speaks. “Can we get your full name, young lady?”

“It’s Celeste Might.”

The whispering starts again.

Okay, now what?

The officer scanning her notes glances up at me with a slight frown. “Might? Are you certain that is your family name?”

I blink. “Uh… yeah? Pretty sure I know my own last name.”

More murmurs. I shift uncomfortably, glancing around. Even Bastien looks vaguely irritated, his gaze flicking between the officials with an expression bordering on annoyance.

Commander Doricq raises a hand, silencing the room. “Please, proceed.”

With a sigh, I launch into my account. I give them every detail I can remember about that punchable mug of a man and the events leading up to Olfea’s destruction. Of course, I conveniently left out the part where Azry helped me. Speaking of her, she hasn’t moved an inch inside my pocket since I entered the room. She’s probably just as tense as I am.

While most of the officials scribble notes and nod along, Smug Idiot just sits there, clearly entertained by making me uncomfortable.

Once I finish, he finally speaks. “Your testimony sounds plausible, Ms. Might. But how can we be sure of your words?”

Oh, for crying out loud!

I barely manage to hold back an incredulous Huh?! Instead, I take a deep breath, fists tightening in my lap. “You think I’m lying?”

His smirk widens. “Absolutely not. You are a victim of the catastrophe. What I’m asking for is proof.”

I stare at him. “I’m sitting right here. That’s proof enough, isn’t it?” My voice tightens as frustration coils in my chest. “If you want something more, how about you go to Olfea and see the disaster for yourself instead of wasting time questioning me?”

His smile falters just slightly. Victory.

Commander Doricq clears his throat. “We will set up a bounty on the suspect.”

Smug Idiot hums in agreement before turning to me. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Might.”

I glare at him. He smirks. I don’t trust this man.

With that, the meeting concludes, and Bastien is quick to guide me out. The moment we’re in the hallway and out of ear shot, I let out a groan, throwing my hands up. “What is that guy’s deal? He was looking at me like I was the suspect!”

Bastien crosses his arms. “That was Interrogator Valoir. I didn’t expect him to be present today.”

I scoff. “Interrogator, huh? More like Professional Smug Bastard.”

Bastien chuckles, and I whip my head toward him. “This is not funny.”

He clears his throat, attempting (and failing) to school his expression. “I apologize. It’s just… the way you insult people is amusing.”

I stare at him for a moment before breaking into an unwilling grin. “You’re really innocent, Bastien.”

There’s a lull of silence until Bastien’s expression softens.

“I never thought you were part of the Might family.”

My grin fades. “Sorry?”

He looks at me as if I should already know. “Your family name. You said it’s Might.”

“Well, yeah, but I was never nobility.” I cross my arms. “Why did everyone react like I just said I was secretly the Queen’s long-lost daughter?”

He hesitates before asking, “How old are you?”

“Almost eighteen.”

He exhales. “Then it must have been after your family fell from nobility.”

I blink. “Excuse me, what?”

“Your parents never mentioned it to you?”

Bastien’s question hangs in the air for a moment.

I shrug, rolling my shoulders as if brushing off a coat I’ve long since outgrown. “Never. They were probably too busy figuring out where to abandon me.”

Bastien flinches, his usually composed expression cracking with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

I let out a short sigh and wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t be. That’s ancient history. My family isn’t them. My family is Nero—my mentor.”

Bastien nods solemnly. “Then you must be sad that he’s no longer with you.”

My throat tightens slightly. I glance away, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “Yeah.” I swallow. “But I know he’s alive, somewhere out there.” My voice is steadier now, filled with determination rather than sadness. “And I will rescue him.”

Silence settles between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. It lingers, stretching like a moment frozen in time, before I shake it off and stand. “Well, that’s enough moping. I’ve got things to do.”

Bastien watches me carefully. “If this is about finding the culprit, then leave it in the Royal Army’s hands.”

I snort and boop his nose lightly, making him blink. “Oh, sweet, naïve prince. If I wait for the Royal Army, I’ll be old and gray by the time they figure it out.”

His brow furrows as he stands as well. “I understand how you feel, but they are trained for this. And there are more of them than there are of you.”

I lift a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “True. But I lost my home and my family. Sitting around isn’t an option for me.”

He studies me for a moment, eyes searching mine. Then, finally, he exhales. “Very well then.”

“Ah, Ms. Might! Good that you haven’t left yet.”

Bastien and I both turn at the voice. A soldier approaches, her face friendly, which is already a step up from most of the people I’ve encountered today.

She stops before Bastien and bows. “Your Highness.”

Bastien, looking strangely, mildly irritated, sighs. “What is it?”

“We need the young lady’s description of the culprit so we can create portraits and spread them across the kingdom.”

The officer glances between us, and I nod. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Before I take a step, Bastien reaches out, his fingers curling gently around my wrist.

“Celeste.”

His voice is quieter now, meant only for me. He leans in slightly, his warmth close enough to make me pause. “Once you finish, wait for me outside.”

I blink at him before smirking. “Of course. Wouldn’t want His Highness to get bored.”

His lips twitch, amusement flickering across his face. He rolls his eyes but lets go of my wrist—reluctantly, I notice.

As I follow the soldier, Bastien’s footsteps fade behind me.

The small office I’m led into is a lot less suffocating than the courtroom-like interrogation chamber. There’s no heavy stares, no smug interrogators, no suffocating sense of judgment. Just a desk, a few chairs, and the soldier from earlier offering me a cup of water.

I take it gratefully. “Thanks.”

She nods before sitting across from me. “Now, Ms. Might—”

“Just Celeste,” I interrupt, shaking my head.

She smiles. “Alright, Celeste. I’m Mira. I’ll be sketching a portrait based on your description, and we’ll circulate it throughout the kingdom.”

I nod. “Great. Just make sure it reaches beyond the kingdom, too. I have a feeling that the punchable bastard has already skipped town.”

Mira chuckles lightly. “We’ll do our best.” She grabs a pencil and a sheet of parchment. “Alright, let’s start. What does he look like?”

I lean back, arms crossed, picturing him in my mind. “Punchable.”

Mira’s lips twitch, but she keeps her focus on the parchment. “I meant physically.”

“Right. That too.” I frown. “Sharp features, kind of wolfish looking. Short, messy hair—dark. He kept it covered, but I could still see bits of it. Eyes… sharp. Calculated.”

She hums as she sketches, her strokes confident and swift. “Age?”

I hesitate. That was hard to tell. “Somewhere between late twenties and early thirties? But there was something in his eyes… like he’s seen more than he should.”

Mira nods, making some final adjustments before turning the sketch toward me. “Take a look. Does this seem accurate?”

I blink.

Damn.

The details are so precise, it’s like staring at the man himself—minus the part where he’s breathing and capable of ruining lives.

“Wow. That’s…” I lean closer, inspecting the sharp angles and eerily familiar expression. “Yeah, that’s him. That’s definitely him.”

Mira smiles proudly. “Glad to hear it.”

She tucks the portrait into a file. “We’ll make sure this man is seen everywhere.”

I nod. “Good. Thanks.”

With that done, I stand and head for the door, glad to finally be out of official business mode. The hallway is quieter now, and I take the opportunity to put some distance between myself and the courtroom chamber before I accidentally run into that Interrogator Valoir again.

My pace quickens, boots tapping against the stone floor.

“My distrust toward law enforcement is still the same,” I mutter under my breath.

I step outside, and it doesn’t take much effort to spot Bastien standing at the front, arms crossed, hood pulled low over his head. He looks like he’s back in Olfea, skulking around like some kind of spy.

A wicked grin spreads across my lips as I approach silently. “So, do you sneak around in the Capital too, Your Highness?”

Bastien jolts with a small, very satisfying yelp before quickly composing himself, clearing his throat as if he didn’t just squeal like a startled child.

“Celeste!” He straightens, trying to salvage his dignity. “Everything done?”

“Done and dusted.” I nod, satisfied. “That bastard will be behind bars soon.”

Bastien frowns, his face shifting into serious thinking mode. “Are you really going after him?”

I cross my arms. “Obviously. I appreciate the Royal Army’s help and all, but I have my own ways. I’ll find him soon.”

“And where do you think he is now?”

Good question. Not too hard to figure out, though.

Leaning against the rocky wall, I run through the facts in my head. “Well, I know he loves messing with protective barriers.” I lift a finger, as if counting. “And…” My eyes scan the surroundings before I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “He’s a Heretic.”

Bastien nods, expression going a little grim. The courtroom officials had made me swear not to tell anyone. Probably so the entire nation wouldn’t lose their minds. Not that people weren’t already panicking.

“Still,” Bastien says softly, “you can’t just travel alone.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve been traveling alone this whole time, and I’ve had no problems.” I pause, then chuckle. “Well, except for that one guy who tried to rob me. You should’ve seen his face when I kicked him in the nuts.”

Bastien tries—really hard—not to smile at that.

“So, as you can see, I can handle myself just fine.” I flash a grin. “Plus, I have Azry watching over me.”

From inside my pocket, Azry squirms in protest, her tiny claws scraping against the fabric like she’s saying, Excuse you, I am not your bodyguard.

Bastien shakes his head. “It’s not that I don’t believe you can handle yourself, it’s just…” He hesitates, looking away. The hood makes it harder to read him, but I can tell he’s flustered.

I smirk. “Ohhh, I see how it is. His Highness wants to be my personal bodyguard.”

Bastien’s head whips around so fast I think I hear his neck crack. “It’s not like that!”

I raise an eyebrow. “It definitely is.”

He groans and tugs his hood down even further, like that’ll somehow make me stop teasing him. “Fine. Maybe it is like that.”

Too cute.

“But Bastien,” I say, this time more seriously, “do you have to? You have actual prince duties. I don’t want you to leave your home behind and—well, join a stranger on a journey with no clear end.”

Bastien lifts his head then, and I can see his face more clearly under the hood. His eyes are steady. Determined. He doesn’t flinch away from my gaze.

“You’re not a stranger.” His voice is firm. “You’re a friend.”

My brain takes a second to reboot.

Friend?

I mean, I figured he saw me as something—a nuisance, an amusing distraction, that charming town girl from Olfea. But friend?

Few people have outright said that to me. People show it, sure. But hearing it? That’s different. That’s—

“Celeste?”

I blink. Oh. Right. Words. I should be saying them.

Forcing a smirk, I say, “Wow, I have official royal recognition? Does this mean I get access to the Royal Treasury?”

Bastien mirrors my smirk. “Absolutely not.”

I snap my fingers. “Damn. Worth a shot.”

“But seriously,” I say, leaning in a little, “can you actually leave your duties behind to travel with me? And are you absolutely sure you want to? No one’s bribing you? You do realize this is a very dangerous quest, right?”

Bastien chuckles, nodding. “Yes, I can travel with you. No, I’m not abandoning my duties. And no, no one is bribing me.”

I squint at him. “Ah. So you’re on some kind of secret mission.”

Bastien only shrugs. “Who knows…”

His Royal Sneakiness might have an agenda. Maybe it involves me, maybe not. Either way? Doesn’t matter.

Because now, I have a new travel companion. And maybe—just maybe—this disaster of a journey won’t feel so damn lonely anymore.

One thing’s for sure.

Watch out, punchable mug. I’m coming for you!