Hiss... Hah... Not Spicy

If Creed continued to refuse, Tovens would surely have these traitors disguised as medical staff remove Creed from the command room on the grounds that he had trouble eating, after which the traitors would privately discuss Creed's strange behavior at the dining table.

Creed! For The Emperor! For Cadia!

Creed encouraged himself. He absolutely could not let these traitors, so skilled at concealing their true natures, head to Cadia so easily.

"You'll be fine! The Emperor is watching over you!"

Creed closed his eyes, Wodhaus's encouragement echoing in his ears.

Creed felt a scorching power rise from the depths of his body. He thought it must be The Emperor's protection and encouragement.

His eyes flew open, and Creed showed utter disdain for the copper pot before him. He already understood what he had to do to dispel these traitors' suspicions.

He would go along with the traitors' wishes, wolfing down this filth like the fires of hell, relying only on his faith and a Cadian's fierce sense of honor to maintain the last shred of clarity.

A smile carrying many meanings appeared on Creed's face. Calm self-sacrifice, fearless composure, the pride of bearing a heavy duty, and a faint, imperceptible disdain all blossomed at the corners of his mouth.

Creed lightly patted his coat and the table in mockery, then said blandly, "If this is all there is, it's still too ordinary. Bring another plate of that from earlier."

Tovens suspected he had misheard. His eyes widened in astonishment as he asked, "What? What did you just say?"

"I said, bring another plate," Creed replied calmly.

Tovens's gaze turned complicated as he considered why Creed was doing this.

This guy had just been left in a miserable state by Emperor's Flame, sweat beading on his forehead. How had he become