Chapter 38
“Today’s trial is to deliver a verdict regarding the death of Albert Bouvier, son of Baron Carl Bouvier.”
The trial began in a solemn atmosphere.
Hera sat in the second-floor terrace seats, taking in the view of the courtroom.
Three judges sat in the elevated seats at the front, and opposite them stood Julian in the City Guard’s uniform, Baron and Baroness Bouvier, and Marriot.
Behind them, townspeople who had come to watch the trial sat on wooden benches.
“This trial has been requested under the name of Julian Tolin, Captain of the City Guard, and the Duke Marriot Laurent has attended as a witness.”
The judge sitting farthest to the left struck his gavel.
“Court is in session.”
As the trial began, Julian stood, sending a ripple through the otherwise quiet courtroom.
From the start, it didn’t seem ordinary.
“Your Honor. I am raising the suspicion that Lord Albert Bouvier was murdered.”
The crowd began murmuring loudly.
Most people had assumed Albert died from excessive drinking.
The reason they came was simply to hear just how foolishly he had died.
But when Julian suddenly mentioned murder, people forgot they were in a courtroom and became noisy.
Only when the judge called for order did the room quiet down.
Julian, like someone tossing a massive boulder into a calm lake just to watch the ripples, continued speaking in a composed manner.
“According to our City Guard’s internal audit, eighty thousand luna worth of gold coins were found in the home of the coroner who wrote the autopsy report. It is believed this money was obtained after the deceased’s death. In other words, we have reason to believe someone attempted to tamper with the autopsy results.”
It was not something to say in such a calm, unhurried voice.
As the audience sat stunned by the shocking statement, Julian finished his claim.
“And the culprit is here in this room.”
The judge asked him,
“Captain, can you name them?”
His gaze soon fixed on one person.
“It is none other than His Grace, Duke Marriot Laurent.”
Hera’s grip on the terrace railing turned white-knuckled.
So this was what those earlier words had meant—placing the suspicion of murder on Marriot.
Her breathing grew rough as she struggled to calm her pounding heart.
Whether or not he knew someone was this worried for him, Marriot, seen from the second floor, appeared perfectly serene.
“Here is the record of our investigation into the coroner’s assets.”
Julian walked up to the judges’ bench and handed over the documents detailing how the bribe had been found.
Glancing through the papers, the judge addressed Marriot, who sat leisurely in the witness seat.
“Do you wish to make a statement?”
Marriot uncrossed his legs, smiling faintly.
“Of course, Your Honor.”
He rose and spoke in a confident voice.
“I, Marriot Laurent, deny the charges and plead not guilty.”
Though he normally preferred casual attire, today Marriot stood in the courtroom dressed in a dignified outfit befitting his ducal title.
Appearances could be deceitful, and in his immaculate clothes combined with an almost otherworldly beauty, many people already felt inclined to trust him.
“Above all else, I have no motive to kill Albert Bouvier.”
At his signal, his aide Shane appeared carrying a wooden box.
Marriot’s voice took on a tone of regret.
“Had I not been accused as the culprit, I would have kept silent about this for life.”
When Shane opened the box, it was packed with what appeared to be certificates and letters sealed with the Bouvier family crest.
Marriot grabbed a thick stack of documents.
“Albert Bouvier and I were close friends. From time to time, he would secretly visit Mozenny to bring me news from the Central. Here—this is a pass proving Albert visited Mozenny.”
Baron Bouvier, seated opposite, angrily retorted,
“Mozenny is in the Laurent Duchy! You could fabricate a pass like that whenever you wanted!”
Marriot laughed as if the remark were ridiculous.
“Really? But this was not obtained in Mozenny. I got it from the Bouvier estate.”
“What…! When on earth…?”
Before the baron could continue, Marriot rapped the wooden box with his hand to draw everyone’s attention.
Shane, notably wearing gloves, took out a letter stamped with the Bouvier crest.
With a slight tilt of his head, Marriot revealed its content.
“And look at this letter. He had his servants record the political situation in Mozenny and every detail of my daily life to send to him. He wanted to know everything about my private affairs—down to the last. Tell me, could two people be closer than that?”
Who in their right mind would believe they had been close friends after hearing this?
This was a trap Marriot had set—his way of exposing that Albert Bouvier had been spying on him all along.
Marriot never thought he could entirely free himself from suspicion in Albert’s death.
Even so, he had to take his revenge and come out of this unscathed.
Killing Albert Bouvier had been a plan set in motion long ago.
“That is a lie!”
Faced with Marriot, who had nearly admitted to killing his son, Baron Bouvier struggled to keep his composure.
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Albert and His Grace were nothing to each other! My son was interested in Mozenny because the Duke…!”
But as soon as he reached this point, the baron realized the whole thing was a trap.
He could not say that his son had been spying on the Duke on the Crown Prince’s orders.
No matter how unjust his son’s death was, he could not risk earning the Crown Prince’s wrath.
If the family were destroyed over words spoken in anger, he could never face his ancestors—or his kin.
“What’s the next part, Baron Bouvier?”
Just as Marriot expected, the baron clamped his mouth shut.
Marriot goaded him further.
“Surely you’re not about to say your son spent ten years spying on me? You wouldn’t tarnish your dead son’s honor in such a sacred court. Would you?”
An unspoken truth—one that no one dared to voice.
The people of the Ivy Empire were already accustomed to such situations.
Wolf hunts were always like this.
Something happened—or it didn’t.
The truth about Albert Bouvier’s death would circulate as two different “truths” among the people.
Seeing the baron fall silent, Marriot cast him a mocking glance.
If Albert could see this, how much would he despise his father—unable to even speak the truth about his death?
“Well. I’ve proven I have no motive for murder. That leaves the coroner the City Guard claims was bribed.”
Marriot turned toward the audience with even more confidence.
He pointed to a middle-aged man sitting on a wooden bench, motioning for him to stand.
Slowly, the man rose and removed his hood.
“…Why is the coroner…?”
Julian couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath.
It was the City Guard’s coroner—the very one he had claimed accepted a bribe.
When the Guard searched his home that morning, he had been cooperative, calm, and seemed to have given up on everything.
He had looked pale and lifeless—nothing unusual.
But now—what was with that face?
That bruised and battered face.
As if he had been beaten dozens of times.
It was as if—
“This is the City Guard’s coroner, suspected of taking a bribe from me. Your Honor, don’t you have some questions for him?”
Marriot turned to the judge as murmurs erupted at the sight of the coroner’s clearly battered face.
People seemed to be letting their imaginations run wild.
The judge asked,
“You are the City Guard’s coroner, correct?”
“I am.”
“Did you receive a bribe to falsify Albert Bouvier’s autopsy?”
At the direct question, the coroner struggled to move his swollen lips, answering in slurred speech.
Though his pronunciation was unclear, the sentence was still perfectly understandable.
“I cannot say.”
It was an answer that carried the weight of affirmation—words that, though indirect, implied “yes.”
