Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Iron-Blooded Adjudicator
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Medea was the most troublesome person for Carlyle to deal with.
In her youth, she was a formidable woman, skilled enough in combat to be considered a contender for succession against the current family head, Grand Duke Guntram. On top of that, her personality was incredibly fierce.
That was why Carlyle always behaved himself in front of Medea.
No matter how much of a scoundrel he was, he couldn't help but be wary of his aunt.
The problem was, that only applied to the *real* Carlyle.
“You’re here.”
The moment Carlyle greeted Medea so nonchalantly, the surrounding atmosphere turned frigid.
There was no way he hadn't heard what Medea had just said...
“You’re heeeere?”
A murderous glint appeared in Medea’s eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“That you’re here?”
“Before that.”
“I don’t quite remember. One moment. Maranello.”
Carlyle looked back at Maranello.
“What did I say before that?”
“…”
Maranello was left speechless by Carlyle’s sudden attempt to pass the buck.
*Did he swallow a live eel? To think he'd try to slip out of it like this.*
“The Young Master… ahem.”
Maranello brought a fist to his mouth, cleared his throat twice, and answered with his eyes gently closed.
“He said to convey his sincerest apologies, but he is too preoccupied preparing for the trial to receive you now and will have to see you at a later time.”
“There you have it.”
Carlyle turned back to Medea with a look that said, *See? You heard him.*
“How dare you!”
Medea roared.
“How dare you try to fool your own aunt with such a ridiculous lie!”
“It’s not a lie.”
“What do you mean, it’s not a lie! Do you think my hearing has gone?”
“Of course, it’s perfectly fine. Just like Maranello’s.”
“W-What?”
“Maranello, your hearing is still fine, isn’t it?”
Carlyle looked back at Maranello again.
“Yes, Young Master. For an old man, my hearing is still quite sharp for my age.”
*Gnash!*
Hearing Maranello’s reply, Medea could no longer vent her anger and had to swallow her rage.
Why?
Because even she found the old butler’s authority burdensome.
Furthermore, Maranello’s loyalty was sworn only to the family of the head, Grand Duke Guntram, which did not include Medea.
So, even though she knew it was a blatant lie, she had no choice but to grind her teeth and accept it.
“Fine. I’ll take your word for it.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“You cunning little brat.”
Medea snarled, glaring menacingly at Carlyle.
She had come to land the first blow, but had ended up taking one instead. It was only natural that she was seething inside.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die and managed to wake up.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
A venomous smile crept onto Medea’s lips.
“After the trial, you’ll bitterly regret ever waking up.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Carlyle smiled brightly, his clear eyes shining.
“You little… no.”
Medea, about to lose her temper, suddenly put on a look of pity.
“My poor nephew. What to do? Still so clueless and arrogant, like a reckless child. This time, not even my brother will be able to forgive…”
Carlyle didn't respond to Medea’s taunts.
“Do I really have to fasten my sleeve buttons? It feels stuffy.”
“Do you intend to provoke His Grace the Grand Duke’s anger?”
“Is that so.”
Medea’s face turned beet red.
“Fine. We’ll see just how long you can keep up this arrogance. By this afternoon, you’ll be crying tears of blood…”
“Are you still here?”
“…”
“I can’t see you out. I’m a bit busy right now.”
Medea had to use every ounce of her willpower to resist the urge to beat Carlyle to a pulp right then and there.
The timing wasn't right.
With the trial just around the corner and Maranello standing firm, it was no exaggeration to say she had no way of touching Carlyle.
***
That afternoon.
*Clank, clank.*
Handcuffs were fastened around Carlyle’s wrists.
Until now, in consideration of his noble status and severe injuries, he had been allowed to live comfortably despite being a prisoner.
But from this moment on, he couldn't even dream of such privileges.
Just before leaving for the tribunal.
“Why on earth didn’t you run? Are you determined to die?”
Selena seemed genuinely angry.
“Brother, you had a chance. So why…”
Frey, too, reacted as if he couldn't understand Carlyle’s choice.
“Thanks for worrying, but I’m fine. You don’t need to be concerned.”
Selena responded sharply to Carlyle’s words.
“Worry about you? Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m only thinking of Father and our late mother.”
“Ah.”
“What ‘ah’? When you stand before the court, you’d better beg for your life. Don’t tear this family apart.”
Frey’s personality prevented him from saying anything harsh, but it was clear he felt the same way as Selena.
“Apologize to Father with your life. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”
“Alright.”
After the farewells were over.
“The prisoner, Carlyle van Sigmund, is to proceed to the tribunal now.”
Rebesque appeared with a group of knights and escorted Carlyle to the tribunal.
Carlyle headed to the tribunal without complaint.
“My wrists are stinging. I think they’re going to bruise.”
“That is the nature of handcuffs.”
Maranello gave a wry smile at Carlyle’s complaint.
“It seems you still haven’t come to your senses. I wonder if you’ll be so nonchalant after the verdict is delivered.”
Carlyle let Rebesque’s whisper go in one ear and out the other.
*‘You’re dead.’*
*‘Serves you right.’*
His maternal cousins, the brothers Hector and Gunter, made a throat-slitting gesture as Carlyle passed them.
*‘They’re enjoying this.’*
Carlyle passed them with a blank expression, not bothering to react.
After all, the greater the anticipation, the greater the disappointment when things don’t go as planned.
The tribunal was set up not indoors, but outdoors, right in front of the castle gates.
The reason was simple.
Carlyle’s trial was scheduled to be held publicly, for all the domain’s residents to see.
“Here he comes!”
“Booooooooooooo—!”
As soon as someone spotted Carlyle’s party in the distance and shouted, the residents who had gathered to watch the trial erupted in jeers like an angry swarm of bees.
It wasn't just jeers.
“You son of a bitch!”
“Serves you riiiiiight!”
“That’s right! If you kill someone, you have to be punished!”
“You’re the worst piece of trash in the world! You’re getting the death penalty!”
All sorts of unspeakable curses were hurled at Carlyle.
The scene starkly revealed just how much resentment the people of Decaron held for Carlyle, and just how terrible his reputation was.
Carlyle’s reaction to this was…
“I’m pretty popular, huh.”
“This looks like popularity to you?”
Maranello frowned in disbelief.
“Even curses are a form of attention.”
“Hah.”
“At least they’re not throwing eggs. That’s good enough for me.”
“Aren’t you angry?”
“I’m just thinking of it as karma.”
“…”
Maranello closed his eyes, as if fed up with Carlyle speaking as if it were all happening to someone else.
Meanwhile, the curses and jeers aimed at Carlyle continued, showing no signs of subsiding even after he entered the tribunal area.
But that, too, was brief.
“Silence, all of you! The Lord of Decaron is about to arrive!”
At the appearance of Grand Duke Guntram, the people’s curses and jeers stopped as if by magic.
Everyone held their breath and, without exception, naturally knelt on one knee, preparing to receive the Lord of Decaron.
Their hatred was reserved solely for Carlyle; their respect for Grand Duke Guntram was absolute.
*Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!*
Soon, knights in black armor lined up on either side, and Grand Duke Guntram made his appearance.
His presence, the aura he exuded, was utterly overwhelming.
Every step he took seemed to carry a weight of dignity, his expression was solemn, and his gaze was as sharp as frost.
Moreover, the antique and imposing cloak draped over his shoulders made his already impressive physique seem even larger.
A cloak said to be woven from the feathers of a three-legged crow that foresees death, the pelt of a wolf that devours gods, and the threads spun by the goddesses of fate.
It was a sacred artifact symbolizing the head of the Sigmund Family, one of their heirlooms, known as the [Heart of the North].
“From this moment.”
Grand Duke Guntram, who had by now entered the tribunal, looked over the crowd and began to speak.
“The trial of Carlyle van Sigmund will now commence.”
And so, the trial began.
***
To Carlyle, the trial was incredibly boring.
The rituals before the main proceedings, like swearing to tell only the truth, for example.
However, as soon as Grand Duke Guntram began to list the criminal charges against Carlyle, his boredom vanished completely.
This trial wasn't just about the murder of Alberto.
“The defendant, Carlyle van Sigmund, set fire to a field on the verge of harvest, causing poor farmers to shed tears of blood…”
“He assaulted a father in front of his family, causing grievous injury…”
Grand Duke Guntram listed every evil deed and atrocity Carlyle had committed, adding to the list of charges.
Theft, assault, arson, dining and dashing, drunken violence, fraud, and so on.
The only thing missing was ‘murder,’ but the preceding charges alone were enough to warrant the death penalty.
*‘Looks like he really intends to kill me.’*
Carlyle realized that Grand Duke Guntram had truly sharpened his blade this time.
Unable to tolerate his second son’s debauchery any longer, it was clear he intended to put an end to it once and for all, even if it meant shedding tears of blood himself.
Otherwise, there would be no reason to bring up all his past misdeeds instead of focusing solely on the Alberto murder case.
While Carlyle was lost in thought, the core issue of the trial came to the forefront. Soon, Jeffrey took the witness stand and began to spew lies about what he had supposedly witnessed.
“Witness, testify as to the events of that day.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
As befitting a spy meticulously planted by a rival power, Jeffrey’s testimony sounded quite logical and credible.
Jeffrey.
A blacksmith from the armory that produced weapons of war for the Decaron domain, he put on a detestable act, pretending to be terrified.
“I-It is a cowardly excuse, I know, but I was too afraid to step forward. I’d like to take this opportunity… to tell Alberto’s family that I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”
*Sob, sob…*
Hearing Jeffrey’s testimony, the family of the deceased Alberto wept quietly.
“Carlyle van Sigmund.”
As soon as Jeffrey finished his testimony, Grand Duke Guntram glared at Carlyle with the expression of a death god.
*‘I… I can’t breathe.’*
He felt a pressure so immense it felt like his heart would stop.
Befitting a powerhouse known by the title [Iron-Blooded Adjudicator], it seemed he could kill a person with his sheer presence alone.
*Tremble!*
Against his will, Carlyle’s hands began to shake.
It was an instinctual reaction.
To put it bluntly, in terms of power, Grand Duke Guntram could kill Carlyle instantly with a flick of his finger.
As a result, his body naturally felt the fear of death and trembled like a leaf.
But as they say, mind over matter, right?
*‘If he’s going to kill me, then let him. What’s the big deal? It’s not like I can’t die twice.’*
Once he changed his mindset, his trembling body gradually calmed, and soon he was able to straighten his back and assume a proper posture.
*Then, one step further.*
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Carlyle lifted his head and looked up at Grand Duke Guntram.
*‘Hm.’*
A peculiar light flickered in Grand Duke Guntram’s eyes as he watched Carlyle.