Chapter 31 - The Trial

If asked how he felt about courtrooms, Aiden would honestly answer that he was not particularly fond of them. A perfectly natural response for a professional con man.

For him to enter one of his own accord, then, was highly unusual.

... No. Given how headlong he was being now, perhaps it was only natural.

Noel kept stealing glances at Aiden beside her, gauging his mood. The moment he had heard the prince was here, he had come straight over without a thought for his usual aversion. And as luck would have it, the trial in progress was precisely the sort to anger him: it would decide the fate of Sir Levant, who had recently attacked Katya.

“...”

What bothered her was that neither the prince nor the minister of administration had reacted, despite clearly seeing her and Aiden arrive. As though they had known they would come. As though they had something prepared.

She did not like that at all.

“... Aiden, are you sure you’ll be all right?”

How worried must she be to keep asking that? It was hardly an appropriate question from someone who always charged into enemy lines first without a backward glance, but anyone could see that Aiden’s current state was dangerous.

“I’m not all right.”

... His answer alone was enough to reinforce that impression.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t like having to sit here and wait.”

“...”

As Noel sat at a loss for words, Aiden glared at the prince, who was seated on the dais with his eyes closed. A simmering anger lay concentrated in his gaze.

'Sometimes he loses his brakes altogether.'

Noel sighed inwardly.

She had only just stopped him, telling him to wait at least until the trial ended, since interrupting a member of the imperial family on official business was itself a serious crime. She had noticed this several times now: he tried to smooth over anything that happened to him, yet went berserk the moment something happened to someone close to him.

[“Different sexes, but he’s quite like Teresa, isn’t he?”]

[“Just like her teacher, the Lord Protector.”]

“...”

Without realizing it, Noel clenched the hand resting on her thigh. She was trying her hardest not to show it, but the sight from last night still clung to her mind like black soot.

'Why?'

As common folklore had it, a spirit needed to have attained a certain level of accomplishment to manifest in the physical realm. And it needed an intense lingering attachment.

Teresa had appeared as a ghost and attacked her. As though that were the attachment she had carried over from life. The reason she had yet to pass fully into the realm of the dead.

'Why?'

At that thought, her already clenched fist tightened until it turned white. Memories of that night rose in her mind. The words Teresa had left her with the last time they met.

[“I’ll stay behind, Noel.”]

[“You know it too. You’ll become someone greater than me.”]

[“You have to... protect the people.”]

[“All right?”]

Her thoughts stopped only when she realized blood was seeping from her palm.

“...”

Noel discreetly covered it and closed her eyes.

'This is dangerous.'

... She had to remain composed. Especially in front of the prince and the minister of administration. With no telling what Aiden might do, at least she needed to keep her head.

“—Thus, on the aforementioned date, the defendants caused an incident near the capital’s headquarters building, which—”

Glancing sideways, she saw Aiden frowning at the minister of administration as he spoke from the witness stand.

... Honestly, Noel understood his reaction perfectly.

The minister of administration. Rad Ilza Barfon. He seemed utterly harmless on the surface, but she could smell it on him. A hunter, a predator, or a viper. He harbored that same sinister quality.

What he said next would only strengthen that impression.

“—And as it happens, the parties concerned are here with us.”

Rad’s gaze settled squarely on Aiden and Noel in the gallery.

“...?”

Noel frowned at the casual, seamless way he drew them into the heart of the proceedings.

“Shall we raise an interesting point for discussion, then?”

Rad continued, still smiling brightly.

“As some of you will know, there was an interesting incident last night, wasn’t there?”

Noel’s expression hardened the moment she heard that. It was certainly not a subject that should have arisen so abruptly here.

“The recent weapons-smuggling incident at the capital’s docks. A serious crime, with even hellfire bombs at the scene. Then, of course, the terrorist attack inside the capital’s headquarters building, and the Lord Protector’s vengeful spirit appearing yesterday...”

His finger drifted gracefully through the air before pointing at a single spot. Clearly at Noel. It looked like a performance in a staged play, but there was unmistakable malice behind it.

“Don’t they all share a common denominator? They all seem to have happened around a certain someone, wouldn’t you say?”

... There was one point she could certainly agree with. It was an interesting discussion. Indeed.

Looking around, she found the judge, defendants, and plaintiffs all silent. Everyone present was focused solely on the minister’s words. As though this entire place were his stage.

'He’s pulling this stunt so openly?'

Noel stared at him in disbelief.

Now she understood why Aiden had been glaring murderously at a man he had never met. The other side had plainly laid some kind of trap with them in mind, as though they had known from the outset that the two of them would come.

“... What are you trying to say, Minister?”

At her stiff response, the minister stroked his chin and slowly began to speak.

“Every recent incident seems to originate somewhere around you. Rather too much to call coincidence. Amusing, isn’t it? It almost feels as though the Lionhearted herself is causing all this turmoil in the capital. Oh, I’m not saying that’s actually the case.”

Rad smiled and added, “Not yet.”

... The man had an extraordinary gift for infuriating people.

“... In short.”

Noel answered evenly, her voice conveying incredulity that went beyond anger.

“Weapons being smuggled into the Empire, a terrorist attack on the capital’s headquarters in broad daylight, and the return of the Lord Protector’s vengeful spirit are all connected to me?”

“I’m saying there are grounds for suspicion.”

“...”

... It was honestly so absurd that she could not even be angry. She hardly felt it deserved a response.

“I believe that suggestion is inappropriate to both the setting and the circumstances. An accusation carries weight only when supported by testimony given through due legal process.”

“Ah, quite right.”

The minister snapped his fingers. As though cueing an actor he had cast in advance.

“Then please tell us, Sir Levant, seated in the dock by due legal process. Who was behind the terrorist attack on the capital’s headquarters?”

“... I acted on the Lionhearted’s orders.”

Sir Levant spoke impassively.

The words dropped without warning, making everyone present stir.

“And the reason?”

“The motive was her displeasure with her husband. It was a political attack.”

His words drew an immediate uproar from those around them. Whatever those who had coordinated their stories beforehand might think, the uninvolved people present all wore expressions of horror.

This was testimony given at a trial attended by the minister of administration and an imperial prince, from none other than a knight of the imperial military’s core ranks—and a veteran of actual war at that. However preposterous the claim, it was difficult to dismiss it outright as a lie.

Whatever the truth behind the rumor, the story itself was a shocking scandal. It would spread far and wide before long. That alone would damage her reputation.

“...”

Noel ground her teeth.

The arrangement was obvious. Levant would take the full punishment upon himself by saying that, but they must have negotiated to spare his subordinates in return. Whatever his relationship with Noel, he cared deeply for his men. He could not have been difficult to persuade.

It was a transparent farce. Anyone could see it was a reckless attack intended to pin the blame on her. More infuriating still was their purpose. Merely damaging her reputation was not the goal.

'I’m not the target.'

Considering the prince’s usual behavior, it was not hard to read his intentions. His ultimate target was not her, but her fiancé sitting beside her.

However much attention Aiden had attracted so far, he was an outsider with no footing whatsoever in imperial politics. Everything he had done had merely fulfilled the minimum requirements for serving as the Lionhearted’s husband.

The only reason she had managed to persuade those around her to accept her marriage to such a man was her own reputation and connections. If the Lionhearted herself had made that decision, they could hardly treat him lightly.

That was what her opponents were after. Destroying her standing in society to separate the two of them.

“If you spread these false rumors, you won’t be able to bear the consequences when the truth comes out.”

The best rebuttal she could offer here was a calm, steadfast denial. She had never lied in the first place. All she had to do was bring the facts to light.

The problem was...

“Ah, but...”

There was one accusation even she could not defend herself against.

“Didn’t the Lord Protector’s vengeful spirit clearly attack you?”

“—”

For an instant, she felt the blood drain from her face.

“Tell us yourself, Lionhearted. Would the Lord Protector turn her sword on anyone who wasn’t an enemy of the Empire, even by mistake?”

“...”

“One of the heroes who saved this nation? Someone who cast aside her own life for her country as though it were nothing? How do you explain that?”

On every other point, the truth was on her side. But on this one, she had no answer to give.

The reason was simple. She did not know either. She had no idea why Teresa’s spirit had done such a thing.

No. Perhaps it was because somewhere deep inside, a lingering doubt told her that what those people said might be true.

“...”

That doubt delayed her response, and the briefest hesitation became a weakness in an instant. The best-crafted lies contained a measure of truth.

The expressions of those seated around her changed. Seeing her unable to answer immediately, they seemed to think the minister’s suspicions might have some merit.

“...”

“...”

The room was as quiet and silent as before, but the mood was clearly moving in the direction the minister intended.

Every recent incident in the capital was the Lionhearted’s fault. Even without proving it, they were on the verge of giving everyone a reason to suspect as much.

'... This is bad.'

Even with her face drained of color, Noel barely managed that thought.

Her mistake had put the mood entirely in their favor. There would probably be quite a few who concluded, from her appearance alone, that everything the minister said was true.

That meant it would lead seamlessly into an attack on the marriage itself. Her reaction had just opened the way for it.

And that might well have been how things unfolded—if one man had not abruptly risen and walked through the center of the courtroom.

“You know, I’m a little hurt.”

Every eye turned to the man speaking in that low voice.

“I don’t know why you’re leaving one person out.”

His voice was utterly relaxed, out of place in the tension gripping the courtroom. One could even say it seemed detached from the situation.

“There’s another one. Another of those common denominators you’re talking about.”

But anyone who knew the owner of that voice would have judged it a little differently.

“I was at every one of those places too. The weapons smuggling, the terrorist attack, the vengeful spirit—all of it.”

This was how he reacted when he was barely holding back his fury. It was a composure worn like a mask, the product of cold reason struggling to suppress the boiling anger on the other side of his mind.

“So, as someone who was actually there, let me speak for myself.”

And it was clear whom that anger was directed at.

“My wife isn’t that kind of person. So cut the fucking bullshit.”

Not Rad, the minister of administration who had made those remarks. The man who had clearly ordered him to do so.

“Your Majesty.”

He had walked right up to the prince himself, seated silently on the dais, and delivered those words to his face.