The Poet's System

Daylan sat comfortably in his seat across from Captain Stanley, who leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and a smirk on his face. The room was silent, save for the ticking clock echoing against the walls.

"Princess Astara was right after all—you guys were worth the chance," Stanley said, his grin widening. "You know, I’m a descendant of the Poet."

Daylan raised an eyebrow.

"I never really understood why people called them the Fools of Divines—his actions got me where I am today," he said, leaning back in his seat. "I’ve got to admit, if I had to pass his title on to someone else, it’d be you."

Daylan shot a lazy glance at him. "Why so?"

Stanley gave him a mocking smile. "Now that the fake Fools are taken care of, I’d suggest you get back to your chivalry duties."

Daylan took a deep breath. "Can you give me a little time? A week or two, at least. I promised a friend I’d help them with something."

Stanley rose to his feet. "Fine—fourteen days starting today, Friday. I’ll be expecting you back by next Thursday’s week." He smiled.

"Consider it a reward for your hard work. Oh, and by the way—you won’t be paid for this month."

Daylan sighed, rose to his feet, and excused himself.

Rhea keeping Daylan in custody had helped him in many ways. Though some anonymous members of the Chivalry Association still doubted him—believing he was somehow involved with the Fools—he had a solid alibi.