Now It's My Turn to Speak

When Andras first heard that X was Berith, the thought that leapt to mind was whether a Demonic Contract had been used. For X to appear as a demon overnight and declare himself Andras's subordinate simply didn't add up. Andras had been suspicious at first — until X proved the promise he'd made, and that suspicion had eased.

That doesn't mean I ever fully believed him.

Flip the assumption. Suppose X had never used a Demonic Contract in the first place. Suddenly every piece fell into place. And so Andras had summoned the guards, traced X's movements, and torn through the place where such a contract would have been hidden — and found it.

To keep a thing this dangerous instead of destroying it. How truly, hopelessly dim.

Andras sneered at the boy still glaring at him from the dock. Whatever X had intended by holding onto it hardly mattered. Now that it had been found, X was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finished. Even Darius, who had been defending him until this moment, wore an expression of utter devastation. The sight of someone's faith crumbling was a pleasure Andras never tired of.

Yes. Doubt more. Doubt each other. Close your ears and cover your eyes — so that I may take even more.

Beatrice pressed on with her address.

"Why was a Demonic Contract discovered in X's room? A student who resolved the mansion incident should never have possessed such a thing. This is blasphemy against the Goddess herself."

At the mention of the Goddess, the murmur of the crowd swelled. Whatever his motives, an ordinary student keeping a Demonic Contract left no room for excuse. The people believed that merely possessing an object tied to demons warped one's faith and corrupted the soul. Cursed artifacts and anything of demonic origin could not be handled except by clergy licensed by the Holy Kingdom. And such a thing had been found in the room of a boy who was no priest at all.

"X. When the mansion incident was resolved, you passed your credit to someone else, did you not? Even if the recipient was a count's daughter, wasn't that humility rather excessive? Merit of that magnitude could have earned you a title. Was it truly necessary to refuse a path to nobility?"

"…"

"I think this. You surrendered the credit because your name could not be known — because you could not afford idle attention. You passed it on to avoid the disadvantages that come with fame."

Andras was right about the motive, at least. X had given away the credit to stay out of Darius's sight. What had been a shield then had become a weapon in Andras's hand now.

"If you were a demon worshipper from the start, and the mansion incident was a failure you arranged in order to win the Crown Prince's trust, then surrendering the credit makes perfect sense. A demon worshipper who earns the confidence of imperial power would find it far easier to throw the Empire into chaos. If that is not the case — by all means, explain yourself."

X did not answer. He simply watched Beatrice in silence.

What is this. What are you preparing.

Those unshaken eyes still bothered her. By now any ordinary person would have reacted somehow. X only sat there.

He's waiting for something…?

Among every outcome she could foresee, nothing existed that would overturn this. Even if Darius — whom she had already drawn to her side — thrashed and fought, it would change nothing.

"Who verified that the contract is a Demonic Contract, and who certified it?"

Sure enough, Darius, his face drawn tight, managed to wring out a rebuttal.

"The Imperial House has received no report of any such object being examined. When, where, and by whom was it verified?"

Few people alive could authenticate something like a Demonic Contract. Within the Imperial House, only a handful of high-ranking clergy recognized by the Holy Kingdom handled such work. And an object that meant instant execution if discovered would never have been made easy to identify. Beatrice's claim only carried weight if the one who examined the contract had the ability to match.

"Unless it has been certified by at least a Heresy Inquisitor of the Holy Kingdom, a re-examination is required."

That was the point Darius drove at. Never mind that a Demonic Contract had supposedly been found in X's room — whether it truly was one still needed to be confirmed.

If it really is a Demonic Contract…

The situation would spiral beyond anyone's control. Darius had already set a great many pieces in motion based on the future X had given him.

"Of course I entrusted the examination to someone trustworthy. To a Heresy Inquisitor from the Holy Kingdom, just as Your Highness suggested."

"What…?"

Darius doubted his own ears. The Academy Chairman had once claimed he would side with Beatrice and invite a Heresy Inquisitor. That had been a lie, of course. In truth the Chairman had only dithered over whom to invite, and whenever Beatrice pressed or threatened, he had used Darius as an excuse and insisted the matter could not proceed.

I've been watching the Holy Kingdom's movements this entire time…

Despite Darius's suspicion, Beatrice summoned the Heresy Inquisitor who had entered the Empire as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Bishop Andersen."

At her call, a man in black priest's robes rose from among the citizens. He was tall, his entire head covered by an iron mask that left only the eyes visible. Not a scrap of bare skin showed anywhere; he had wrapped himself so completely that the effect was deeply unnatural. The presence he carried struck those who looked on with awe and fear in equal measure.

Andersen walked slowly forward.

"I thank you for the invitation, Princess Beatrice. Thanks to you, I have been able to see the Empire's lands and its festival."

"The Grand Feast Day is a meaningful day for the faithful as well. Even if it required some inconvenience, your presence is an honor, Your Excellency."

The exchange alone was enough for Darius to grasp the situation. His eyes went savage. He turned on Beatrice and his fury broke.

"Princess. You dared to smuggle in personnel from the Holy Kingdom? You brought an unauthorized foreigner into the Empire and seated him at a trial of this importance?!"

It was true that Deusrute was the state faith of the Empire. It was not true that the Empire followed the Holy Kingdom in matters of state. When Darius's father, the present Emperor, had still been in health, he had drawn that line with absolute clarity. Darius had followed him, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠continuously shutting out the Holy Kingdom's interference, yielding it not an inch of influence. Beatrice had just shattered that balance.

She only smiled, unhurried, beneath the torrent of his rage.

"I merely received Bishop Andersen as one believer greeting another. Do not be so wroth, my prince."

"Fine. If your will belongs to the Church and not the Imperial House, I will strip you of that imperial status you seem so eager to discard…!"

"Should we not finish this trial first?"

Andersen stepped forward, gathered his hands as if in prayer, and bowed his head toward Darius in the greeting of the faithful.

"I offer my greetings, Brother Darius. I am Andersen, a humble servant of the Goddess. In my homeland I hold the undeserved office of Heresy Inquisitor."

The iron mask made Andersen's voice sound as though metal were being scraped. And the greeting he had just offered meant he would regard the Crown Prince before him not as royalty, but as a mere fellow believer. It was a provocation, plain and simple.

"You seem to have forgotten whose soil you stand on, Bishop. Bear in mind that the laws of this Empire can throw you in a cell, and then wag that tongue of yours."

"But you will not. You have more important matters at hand."

"What would a wretch like you know, running your mouth—!"

"What matters now is the verdict of this trial, and the truth of that boy, is it not?"

The crowd agreed with him. Citizens who worshipped Deusrute took a bishop's word as beyond question, while the nobles and officials, watching Andersen's entrance, had already begun calculating profit and loss.

Andersen took the witness stand and looked at X. The cold, heavy gaze behind the iron mask pressed down on him, and even X, who had been so composed, could not help but tense. Andersen, whose thoughts remained unreadable, clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"A lamentable thing. To watch a servant of the Goddess led astray by a demon's temptation, to make a wrong judgment, and then to prove it — it is a harsh and heavy duty. Even so, in the name of the Goddess, I shall testify for the sake of justice."

Andersen laid his right hand upon his chest. Sacred light spilled from the fingers, and he made his declaration — a Sacred Covenant, a rite only clergy of a bishop's rank could perform.

As Andersen had said, a Sacred Covenant was a terrifying constraint: if the speaker lied, every last drop of the divine power they had accumulated would vanish. It was not a restriction laid upon another, but a sacrifice laid upon oneself — one of the means by which clergy proved they spoke no falsehood. To the ordinary citizen, a man staking the whole of his holy power upon the truth looked like a sublime act of self-sacrifice. No one would casually doubt his word.

"Th-then what they found in that kid's room…?"

"It's really a Demonic Contract?"

"Goddess above…"

The people simply believed, and followed. With Andersen's Covenant, the current of the trial swung entirely to Beatrice, and she did not let it slip.

She turned to the crowd and began to appeal.

"The Demonic Contract found in X's room has been confirmed as genuine by the testimony of Bishop Andersen, who stands among us. And yet the accused still refuses to explain why he kept so dangerous an object. No doubt the truth is one he fears to speak aloud."

From this point, truth or lie no longer mattered. Human beings who had given up thinking deeply became foolish creatures who simply believed whatever the one who ruled them said. Andras was a demon who understood that better than anyone.

"The accused intended, from the very beginning, as a demon worshipper, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to throw this Empire into chaos. Until now, by the Goddess's protection, every one of his schemes has failed, and the truth has been brought to light in this place. It is a fearful thing indeed."

A vile demon invoking a sacred Goddess, using devout believers, seizing a crowd.

"The accused who stands here may not have been an evil man from the start. But we do not know how to restore one who has strayed from the Goddess's guidance and protection."

Darius, too, could say nothing — not with the current already tilting, and not with the suspicion taking root in his own heart. Reason screamed that something here was wrong. His throat refused to work.

"I believe this sinner must return to the Goddess's embrace. And there is only one punishment equal to that. The evil nested in his soul and his heart must be purified."

Beatrice thrust her hand forward, conjured a blaze of magic-fire that roared and clawed at the air, and cried out.

That was the spark.

"Burn him!!!"

"Burn the demon!!!"

The citizens roared back in answer to Beatrice's cry. Like ink blooming through clear water, the madness took them one by one, until dozens were screaming for the stake.

"Burn him!!! Burn that bastard!!!"

"Burn him before he kidnaps my child!!"

The people had already been living in fear of rumors that demon worshippers were snatching citizens away. They took that fear as fuel and burned it into rage.

"The princess does have a point."

"I shall support Her Highness."

The nobles and officials watching this frenzy read the room and found their places. The line to cling to here was not the silent Darius, but Beatrice, who held the people's support.

"…"

Only one nobleman, his fedora pulled down low, watched it all in silence and offered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no opinion at all.

"I shall now deliver the verdict."

The magistrate, who had to pass judgment, glanced at the tight-lipped Darius and reached for the gavel.

"The sentence upon the accused, X, is…"

The enraged citizens reined in their fury to hear the gavel and the magistrate's decision, and the courtroom fell quiet. In that silence, the magistrate lifted the gavel —

"…Hm? Does the accused wish to make a final defense?"

X had raised his bound hands high, as if to say he still had something to offer.

The magistrate looked to Beatrice. She scoffed at X and waved it off.

"He must be frustrated, struck dumb as he is. Paper and a pen should be harmless enough. The restraints block both mana and internal energy, so he can hardly do anything anyway…"

"I don't need paper or a pen."

He had dared to cut off a princess of the Empire. And not a soul in the room called it blasphemy.

"I have heard every word you all have spoken. Not a single one missed. So now — listen to me."

Save for Darius and Beatrice, it was a voice no one present had ever heard. It rose from the very center of the trial.

The owner of that voice was X.