In a Civilized Manner

The moment Celio entered the dining space, countless pairs of eyes turned toward him.

More precisely, all toward the woman with the ankle-length dress standing in front of the group.

Not counting the people who just came in, seven others were in the room. Three sat on one side of a long table, while the remaining four sat on the other. The table was split in half by a bamboo fountain located at the centre.

In the presence of the Moon family's leader, all bodies shot up and entered a fifty-five degrees bow, the standard Adalarian greeting.

At the surge of greetings, Celio's first reaction was to follow the reflexive habits caused by years of etiquette training and bow back. Only two seconds later did he realise he was technically supposed to remain angry at his mother for lying about the "intimate" dinner.

The beast tamer straightened his back with a clear of his throat.

Grace Moon strolled toward one of the two centre seats of the long table. She sat down, raised a hand, and only then did everyone else return to their seats.

Celio skimmed the various presence with his golden eyes. Of the seven guest attendees, aside from the regent and the Imperial Army's vice commander, the rest were people he saw for the first time.

A frown made its way to Celio’s face as he endured the stares of the guests. If he was already growing uncomfortable in the presence of these strangers, his Master must be feeling even more awkward.

At the thought, the beast tamer turned toward Edris in concern, only to see the latter lounged in his chair, laidback as usual, gazing ahead. If he didn't know, Celio would have thought Edris was the host himself.

Following the dark-haired man's gaze, Celio found himself staring at the guest with curly hair sitting across from them. The guest was staring back at Edris with a stern expression, one that bore a mixture of disbelief and…anger?

Celio wondered if the two knew each other.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the time to worry about others.

Amidst the awkward stares, the two doors on the other side of the room opened simultaneously, and a man entered the room, exerting in his steps a natural sense of intimidation to all in his vicinity.

At the sight of the Commander, everyone rose once more, entering a fifty-five-degree bow. Celio did the same. The Commander gave a curt nod and made his way toward the other seat at the centre.

Despite having not seen his son for months, the Commander made no acknowledgement of Celio's presence as he strode past, his sharp, golden eyes gazing forward.

Celio slowly breathed out, then sat back down as well.

With everyone in place, the dinner finally commenced.

A band of musicians emerged from the back and situated themselves on the small platform near the dining table. Each wore a veiled mask covering the lower half of their face. The musician at the front made a gesture, and began playing at once.

The waft of Adalarian spices intermixed with the flowing melody. One dish after another drifted down from the top of the bamboo fountain, delivering themselves to the guests at the long table. The guests engaged in small talks with each other as all this happened, but even then, Celio could still sense their lingering attention on him.

Frown dragging deeper into his face, the beast tamer glanced up to confront their gaze, only to see the guests' attention shifting between the Commander and himself.

It was then Celio finally understood the intention of this "intimate" dinner.

"So this is Commander Moon's beloved son," a guest from across the table spoke up, wrinkles rising with his smile. "An honour to meet the young master. My name is Wynn, founder of the Winner's Armoury."

Winner's Armoury. Celio noted the familiar name. It was the number one weaponry manufacturing site for Adalan's military resources. It was also the primary source of the Moon family's own weapon purchases.

Wynn's introduction seemed to have instigated a round of introduction from the guests as they began to recite their titles to the young beast tamer, who listened in with an ashen face.

To make the first family dinner into a meet-and-greet for the "future Imperial Army Commander"—he’d expect nothing less from the Commander. Each and every one of his actions was for the sake of the army, with no consideration for anything else, even his family.

Celio lowered his head with a bitter smile.

By the third person's introduction, he was already zoned out. There was no way the Commander didn't notice his behaviour, as Celio caught him gazing his way a few times from his peripheral vision. But the former paid no mind to his passivity as he turned away, sustaining his stern, leader-like demeanour.

The introductions were soon approaching their end, and it was the second to last guest's, the one with curly hair, turn to speak.

"My name is Yukioe. I have come here representing the Adalan Kingdom's Healing Faction." The man had a bright voice, speaking confidently yet without too many ups and downs that would indicate immaturity.

Giving an absentminded nod, Celio cast his gaze toward Yukioe, only to realise that the latter wasn't looking at him.

Instead, he was staring at the dark-haired man sitting beside him.

"Commander Moon, I would like to make a proposal." Yukioe withdrew his gaze, turning toward the figure at the centre seat.

Evans Moon leaned back. "Speak."

"It has come to my attention that there are presences in this room who not everyone recognises. I propose we all introduce ourselves to facilitate a better conversation from this point forward," he directed his voice across the long table. "For example, the gentleman in front of me."

Celio blinked twice, and he turned to look at Edris.

The latter, still lounged in his chair, withstood the man's scrutiny with a nonchalant shrug.

"Edris." He smiled. "Just a traveller."

"Just a traveller, you say?" There was a hint of disdain in the curly-haired man's voice, and Celio, witnessing the interaction on the sidelines, couldn't help but furrow his brows.

Did this man, Yukioe, have something against his Master?

He didn't have time to elaborate his line of thought, however, as the final guest began his introduction. Different from the previous majority, Celio actually recognised this person. Uncle Trim, he called him. He was a regent for the Xine royal family and had often played with Celio when he was little.

But when he peered toward Uncle Trim’s direction, Celio froze.

In his memory, Uncle Trim was a kind old man who always kept an amicable expression on his face. Compared to the Commander, an austere man who was always unsmiling, Uncle Trim, although soft-spoken, would come to visit little Celio every time with new jokes up his sleeves.

However, there was something off with the man currently speaking from the one in his memories. It had only been half a year since they last saw each other, but the man had lost considerable weight; his gaudy face had thinned into a visible jawline, and fierce eyes were now sunken, gaze aloof as he mumbled on.

"Trim. You seem tired," the Commander said, eyeing the man from top to bottom.

"Even more so than usual. Are you finally getting fed up with all the royal affairs?" Grace Moon chimed in.

"A workaholic like him? Tired?" The vice commander crossed his arms with a gaudy laugh. "Lady Moon, you should be more worried about him not having enough work. But again, tiredness comes with its strengths. At least the room is a lot more comfortable now, without his useless chitchats."

"There you go again, Rimone. You and Trim just never stop bickering." Grace rolled her eyes. She turned to the regent. "Trim, if you ever get bored of the palace, join the army! We'll recruit you instead and put you in side by side with Rimone."

"He can be my sandbag." Rimone snickered.

Despite their chitchats, the regent remained unresponsive. His muttered introductions had reduced to barely a whisper at this point, and both Celio and Yukioe noticed something was wrong.

"Mister Trim? Are you alright?" Yukioe asked, and when there was no answer, he cautiously rose from his seat. "Can you hear me?"

At that moment, the regent’s eyes bulged, and he shot up from the chair. His eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed down his face. Still mumbling, the man broke into a sob and began banging his forehead onto the wooden surface. His harsh movement caused the guests nearby to jolt in surprise as they all stood from their seats.

The musicians stopped at the commotion, flowing melodies reaching an abrupt halt. Plates of food fell onto the ground, shattering into small pieces.

"Woah, woah. Trim? What's going on here?!" Sitting the closest to the situation, Rimone immediately moved to restrain the regent as he squeezed his biceps and forearms around the former's shoulders.

"Uncle Trim? What's wrong?" Celio took a step forward, but the man to his right pulled him back. Celio turned his head. "Master?"

"Commander and vice commander." Edris turned toward the two on the other end of the long table. "Did Regent Trim enter the Labyrinth lately?"

"The Labyrinths? Come to think of it, he was pulled in half a year ago. But he followed procedural treatment in the faction immediately following his return, communicating regularly with the Soul Patchers and everything. And didn't display any irregularities after it." Rimone gritted his teeth. "Trim, calm down! What's with you all of a sudden? Geez, how is this old man so strong?"

Amidst the frenzy, Celio made eye contact with Uncle Trim. The latter's bloodshot eyes darted his way, displaying a foreign animosity. Mind falling into a blank, the beast tamer found himself taking a step back.

He'd heard about some cases growing up where Labyrinth returnees would undergo a drastic personality change or display violent tendencies.

The factions called it Splinter Syndrome, and while chances of developing the syndrome were low, all Labyrinth survivors were nonetheless required to undergo preventative treatment immediately after their exit.

"Knock him out!" One of the guests yelled.

"I do not recommend it." Yukioe shook his head. "If it is true Mister Trim has Splinter Syndrome, losing consciousness now would only result in permanent damage to the brain. He may never recover once he wakes up."

"If he wakes up at all," Edris said from behind, and Yukioe glimpsed his way.

"Notify the Healing Faction immediately," the Commander said to one of the guests. "Tell them to bring over the healers."

"Soul Patchers specifically," Grace said.

Soul Patchers were people specifically trained to treat those with Splinter Syndrome. These people would be the ones to perform treatment on Labyrinth goers, aiding them to return to everyday life and ensuring they experience no side effects later on.

Celio's stomach churned with nausea, and the world seemed to distort all around him. He squeezed his eyes close, then opened them again. Uncle Trim's grim expression seemed to merge with the amiable face in his memories, resulting in a conformed face of a monster.

"Must be a latent development." Yukioe rolled up his sleeves and pulled out a syringe from his suitcase. "We need to perform an emergency patching operation."

"Hold up, hold up,” Rimone said. “I've heard of this operation. Don't you need at least two Soul Patchers for it? One to infuse mana into the patient while the other performs the specific procedure."

"Correct." Yukioe's response was short but composed. "I am a Soul Patcher."

"But we need two!" Rimone's frantic eyes swept the room. "Even I know that the operation needs to be done in a specific pattern, or it'll only end in failure. Not only that, the Soul Patchers operating need to be highly compatible and have a clear, tacit understanding of each other's thoughts and movements.

"None of us here has undergone the specific training, nor have we any experience collaborating with one another. I can't let you risk the operation on Trim."

The atmosphere fell grave at the vice commander's words. Celio stared down at the ground, his hands balling into fists.

However, Yukioe only sneered.

"Who said there's only one Soul Patcher in here?"

Amidst the chaos, Yukioe lifted his head. He glanced toward the edge of the room, and all eyes followed.

"Am I right, Mister Just-a-Traveller?"

Edris, silently observing from afar, let out a resigned sigh.