A Piercing Revelation

Just then, we all witnessed a horrifying sight – a maid had her leg pierced by the flying needles. The needles had not diminished in size as they usually did but had instead grown large enough to inflict harm on a person.

Sir Reald, perpetually in his furious allure, stormed forward and exclaimed, "What the hell with these tricks? Was it meant to hurt a maid like her?"

Arin, with his usual calm demeanor, stepped forward to explain, "No, Sir Reald. The needle's purpose is not to harm innocent people. It is meant to react to the presence of someone connected to the Drance family or who has had contact with any Drance member."

"It cannot be possible," a voice retorted through the court. The source was a woman standing just close to me, adorned with jewels and lavish clothing. She seemed to hold considerable power and influence in the court.

Princess Vespa, with a composed tone, asked, "What does it mean, Lady Elsie?"

"Pardon, princess. But this maid works at my place. Without my permission, she does not wander off," Lady Elsie defended the wounded maid.

Despite Lady Elsie's defense, Arin remained unconvinced. He said, "I don't know about her loyalty to you, Lady Elsie, but the needle has indicated a connection to someone from the Drance family."

A commotion ensued in the court, with conflicting opinions and accusations flying around. Sir Reald took advantage of the chaos and continued to provoke the situation. "If you're so sure, sage, then why don't you find out with whom she made contact?" he taunted. "Or is it that you're just throwing baseless accusations around? Isn't it true that you, too, are from the Drance family?"

His words seemed to inspire doubt in the minds of the other courtiers, and a few started to question Arin's intentions. "Maybe he's just wasting our time," one of them mumbled.

But before the situation could escalate further, Queen Marissa, who had been observing the scene quietly, stood up and asserted her authority. "Enough, Sir Reald," she commanded. "We must not jump to conclusions without solid evidence."

Turning her attention to Arin, she added, "You are an esteemed sage, and we respect your abilities. However, without concrete proof, we cannot blame anyone for these events. I hope you understand that much."

With the tension momentarily diffused, Queen Marissa turned to the injured maid and said, "Please take care of her, Lady Elsie. We will get to the bottom of this matter."

Suddenly, a voice echoed in my mind, "Master, something doesn't seem right."

Before I had the opportunity to inquire of Sylpha what might be amiss, the scene unfolded before me. Lady Elsie approached the maid, expressing concern for her well-being.

Unexpectedly, the maid seized Lady Elsie with a pin laced with an unknown poison, the very same substance that had left King Harlan in a state of devastation.

I was bewildered, wondering, "What does this signify?"

Just then, I saw Arin standing amidst the commotion, his expression peculiar as if he held some secret knowledge. Intrigued, I walked over to him and asked, "Why are you smiling in a situation like this?"

Arin looked at me with a mixture of amusement and seriousness, and then he began to reveal the true nature of the flying needles. "These needles," he said, "are not just simple tools of detection. They hold a much deeper power—one that magnifies the specific emotion the needle is attuned to."

Perplexed, I asked, "Emotions? What do you mean?"

Arin continued, "The needle is enchanted with two layers of spell. The outer layer identifies individuals connected to the Drance family or those who have had contact with any member. However, the inner layer is what makes them truly potent. It amplifies the emotion that corresponds to the needle's purpose."

"Amplifies emotions?" I echoed in astonishment.

"Yes," Arin replied. "For instance, the needle that injured the maid was meant to detect loyalty or the lack thereof. When it pierced her, it amplified that very emotion within her, causing her to act as she did—staying down and quiet, despite her wound."

As Arin explained, a realization dawned on me. "So, the maid's loyalty is questionable," I said to myself, "and that's why she reacted that way."

Within my mind, Sylpha chimed in, confirming my thoughts, "Indeed, master. The amplified loyalty, or lack of it, would have influenced her behavior in the face of danger."

"But now what?" I wondered aloud.

The court chamber bustled with activity, its ambiance heavy with anticipation as people awaited the proceedings. Suddenly, a disturbance shattered the tranquility as a wounded maid, or perhaps someone who had crossed paths with a member of the notorious Drance, uttered menacing words that sent shivers down everyone's spine.

"I will spare no one from my wrath," she declared, her voice laced with malevolence. "Blame will not touch me. When the concentration falters, the dormant one shall rise and vanquish the false arbiters of justice."

Her ominous words reverberated throughout the room, causing fear to grip the hearts of those present. Amid the chaos, a figure clad in gleaming silver armor, Captain Iriella, emerged from the shadows, approaching the disturbed maid with silent determination.

"Well done, Captain Iriella," hailed Arin, his eyes gleaming with a calculated glint. It was as if he had orchestrated this very event. He watched as Captain Iriella skillfully subdued the agitated maid, bringing a semblance of order back to the court.

Unfazed by the commotion, Queen Marissa skillfully managed the courtiers, her serene demeanor soothing their nerves, and keeping any potential leaks of information in check.

As the situation settled, curiosity gnawed at me, and I couldn't help but ask Arin, "What was your intention in all of this?"

Arin turned to me, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "There were two objectives," he explained. "Firstly, I needed to uncover the whereabouts of the elusive poison component, which, it seems, was cleverly concealed somewhere other than the western side. And secondly, I wanted to ensure the survival of someone close to me."

Intrigued, I probed further, "Who are you referring to?"

His gaze softened, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "My brother, Carsso," he replied, his voice tinged with emotion.

"But how can you be certain he's still alive?" I pressed for more details.

Arin's expression turned somber, and he confided, "The way she spoke that last phrase—it was a phrase my brother used to utter when he was afflicted by the curse of Occult."