Now that the Charismatic Conman has declared that a baseline was established, Ray started to work.
"I don't envy you, what were your specific duties in all that chaos?"
Ray said.
"I was assigned to the hot appetizers, My Lord, mostly manning the eastern terrace doors, making sure the passing trays stayed full for the nobles outside."
Travis answered easily.
"I was told that you approached Mr. Ramada earlier this evening. They said you delivered a message that a guest was asking to speak with him privately?”
Ray said, seamlessly pivoting the conversation.
Travis nodded immediately, displaying all the established signs of truthfulness.
"Yes, My Lord. I was manning the appetizer stations near the eastern terrace doors when a young man approached me. He seemed very anxious. He told me that he is looking for Mr. Ramada and that he would like to speak to him."
As Travis spoke, his eyes drifted past Ray. The boy’s gaze snagged on the bookshelf, where several heavy volumes were visibly misaligned. He looked down at the desk, noticing the drawers were slightly ajar and a hidden compartment was gaping open underneath. Warren Ramada's office was famously known to be organized and immaculate. He just now realized that the office looks like a disaster zone.
Travis blinked, but the boy was smart. He forced his eyes back to Ray and pretended he hadn't noticed a thing.
"Did this guest give you a name?"
Ray asked.
"He did. He introduced himself as Bastian Sterling."
Travis confirmed.
Ray noted the name.
"Can you describe him to me?"
"He... well, he didn't look like the other nobles."
Travis explained, his brow furrowing as he recalled the image.
"He looked exhausted. He had these terrible, dark, heavy bags under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in weeks. His robes were clean, but they were threadbare at the edges, and I noticed they had been mended at the cuffs. It was a stark contrast to the silks everyone else is wearing tonight."
"What else?"
Ray pressed more, analyzing the physical description.
"His hands…"
Travis noted quickly.
"When he handed me a gold coin for my trouble, his hands were stained with dark ink, and the skin was deeply calloused and burned. Chemical burns, I think."
Scholar: “An alchemist. Sleepless nights, chemical burns, threadbare robes. He is burning his family's coin and his own health on his craft.”
The Eccentric Scholar noted.
"You brought Bastian Sterling up here to this office, what happened next?"
Ray continued, keeping his tone light and conversational.
"Nothing much, I escorted Lord Sterling to the door. Mr. Ramada invited him inside. Then Mr. Ramada just closed the door. He usually gives me my next set of instructions, but he didn't this time. I waited for a few minutes, figured he had just forgotten about me, and went back down to the kitchens to finish my shift."
Travis said, shrugging slightly.
Conman: “Lie detected. His left foot tapped the floor twice, and his pupils dilated. He broke eye contact in the final sentence. He is lying through his teeth.”
The Charismatic Conman said with strong conviction.
Ray’s demeanor shifted. He didn't raise his voice, but the warmth of the Healer vanished entirely, replaced by the freezing, clinical void of the Gritty Detective.
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"Travis…Why are you lying to me?"
Ray said quietly.
Travis froze, the color draining from his face.
"I... I'm not! I swear, My Lord, I just went back to the kitchen…"
Ray initiated Quad-Concurrent Partial Immersion and layered the Grizzled Commander and activated ‘Command Aura’ skill.
His golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
The air in the office instantly turned to lead. Ray funneled the suffocating, blood-soaked pressure of a battlefield general directly across the desk. It was a terrifying aura that demanded absolute, unquestioning submission.
Travis choked on his own breath. He gripped the armrests of the chair but could not hold on and ended up kneeling with one knee, his eyes wide with sheer, primal terror. The thirteen-year-old boy sitting on the desk suddenly felt like a towering, ancient warlord ready to execute him for desertion.
"I do not have the time or the patience for half-truths."
Ray said, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating octave that rattled the glass in the windows.
"Tell me exactly what happened after that door closed, or you will regret lying to me!"
Travis broke instantly. He threw his hands up, tears welling in his eyes as he scrambled backward in the chair.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please my Lord. I don't want any trouble!"
Travis pleaded, his voice cracking.
"I didn't mean to hide anything, I just didn't want to get involved! My family needs the coin from this job, if I get fired…"
Ray dialed the Command Aura back by eighty percent, allowing the boy to breathe, but kept the heavy presence lingering in the room.
"You won't be fired if you tell me the truth right now. What did you hear?"
Travis took a deep breath, he was still on one knee and grasping for air.
"I... I didn't leave right away. I was waiting outside the door for my instructions. After a short moment, I heard them arguing."
"About what?"
Ray pressed.
"I couldn't make out the exact words! I just heard the tones. Lord Sterling was raising his voice, sounding desperate, almost frantic. And Mr. Ramada... Mr. Ramada sounded furious. He was speaking in this low, sharp voice he uses when a servant has made a catastrophic mistake. It sounded bad. I got scared that if the door opened and they caught me eavesdropping on noble business, I'd be whipped. So I ran.
Travis swore, shaking his head frantically.
Conman: “He is telling the truth. Every word of it.”
The Charismatic Conman analyzed the boy's frantic pulse, the tears, and the direct, desperate eye contact.
Ray deactivated the Grizzled Commander’s ‘Command Aura’ skill completely, the heavy pressure vanishing from the room as quickly as it had arrived. Ray helped Travis stand up, smoothing the front of his jacket.
"Thank you, Travis. That is all I needed to know. You have been remarkably helpful. Return to your duties, and speak of this to no one."
Ray said calmly.
Travis didn't need to be told twice. He bowed so deeply he nearly hit his head on the desk, and bolted out the door, closing it quickly behind him.
A crisp, blue system screen materialized in his vision, cutting through the dim candlelight.
[SKILLED APPLICATION DETECTED]
[EVENT: QUAD-CONCURRENT PSYCHOLOGICAL INTERROGATION]
[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: INSPIRED]
[ANALYSIS: Host successfully sustained a Quad-Concurrent Partial Immersion, the seamless sequencing of the Healer's 'Calming Presence' to establish a baseline, the Conman's 'Lie Detection' to identify deception, and the precise, controlled application of the Commander's 'Command Aura' to force a confession demonstrates a masterful manipulation of the target's psychological state. This flawless orchestration of emotional comfort and authoritative terror is a mark of exceptional social engineering. Largest mastery gain.]
[Calming Presence: +20% , Command Aura: +15% (CAPSTONE already reached, adding half of mastery gain to the next archetype skill 'Advanced Martial Mastery (Passive)'), Lie Detection: +10%.]
Ray dismissed the system notification.
Alone in the office once more, Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out his Custodian Crest. It pulsed faintly against his palm. He needed to know exactly who he was hunting.
System, access the academy database and search for Bastian Sterling. Provide a full academic and social profile.
Ray commanded internally.
A crisp, blue translucent screen materialized in the air in front of him.
[Target Identified: Bastian Sterling]
[Rank/Status: 3rd-Circle Crystal Vial]
[Affiliation: College of Alchemy (Arcanum) / Minor Noble (House Sterling)]
[Academic Profile: Good grades. Above average proficiency in botanical extractions. Does not stand out among his peers.]
[Social Standing: Standard background. Maintains noble connections despite House Sterling's waning financial influence.]
The pieces of the puzzle now started to show a partial scenario.
In the Ambient Presence of his mind, the committee immediately tore into the new data.
Scholar: "Note the academic specialization. 'Above average proficiency in botanical extractions.' Gentlemen, that is the exact skillset required to synthesize the highly sophisticated, rapid-acting neuro-suppressant slipped into Warren's vintage wine."
Detective: "He has the means. Warren wasn't overpowered by a warrior or a battle-mage; he was poisoned and it is highly probable that it was done by
an alchemist. Plus, Travis puts Sterling in this room having a furious argument with the victim right before he died."
Courtier: "But what were they arguing about? House Sterling's waning finances? A denied request? A heated spat in an office is a far cry from a calculated, cold-blooded execution in a subterranean vault. The motive is entirely absent."
Detective: "And the physical link is missing, too. We know he was in this office, but we don't have a single shred of evidence placing him downstairs at the actual crime scene. If we drag him in now, he'll just deny he ever went to the cellar."
Ray absorbed the committee's rapid-fire deductions, his mind sharpening into a deadly focal point. They were right. He needed more information.
"Bastian Sterling…"
Ray murmured.
The clock was ticking. He now has a prime suspect, and a motive locked somewhere inside the ballroom. Now, all he had to do was walk into a sea of the Kingdom's most powerful aristocrats and pull the prime suspect out of the crowd.
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