Chapter 18 | The Assassin Tackles the Witch Trial
A guillotine had been set up in the central plaza of the Holy Land, which had been chosen as the venue for my hearing. Five chairs had been arranged in a semicircle behind the guillotine, according to formal procedure, and five high-ranking members of the church in formal dress were sitting in them.
Those five people were acting as prosecutor, judge, and jury for this trial. The same group performing all three roles meant this tribunal was obviously flawed. To make matters worse, the audience was composed of Holy Land residents, all of whom were fervent believers of Alamism. They saw the quintet of church leaders presiding over this hearing as divine agents. I’d never seen such a terrible proceeding, even in my previous world.
I’d been dressed as a prisoner, three sets of Sorcerer Cuffs had been placed around my hands, and my head was fixed into the guillotine. This was less than ideal.
“The inquisition of the wicked criminal Lugh Tuatha Dé, who used the goddess’s name for deception, will now commence!”
Hmm. They’re calling it an inquisition instead of a witch trial. It made no difference. The demon thought it had already won. It was at least partially aware that I was responsible for the Alam Karla’s abduction. And it believed that by restricting Dia, Tarte, and me from action, it would prevent me from using that to my advantage.
I was going to penetrate the chinks in the demon’s armor and kill it. That was how assassins operated.
Passionate cheers sounded from every direction as the audience called for my punishment.
I observed the situation around me. Dia and Tarte were under surveillance, but they were in position. Nevan was with a hooded girl. She gave me the sign. Events were proceeding according to plan.
The hierarch was a slender man in his sixties with all the presence appropriate for his position. Upon closer inspection, however, I saw that his eyes were devoid of emotion. Even more surprisingly, my Tuatha Dé eyes, which could see mana, revealed that there were strings of magic power attached to his heart, as if he were a puppet. That led to one more discovery: All the hierarch’s mana was streaming into him from those threads.
It was widely believed that non-mages didn’t have mana, but that was incorrect. Even non-mages produced a tiny amount by nature of being alive. That applied to all living creatures, not just humans. Despite that, the hierarch produced none at all.
He’s already dead… That was why this demon was called the Puppeteer. His power only allowed him to manipulate dolls, not living creatures. Logically, it would have been best to keep the hierarch alive. That the demon was manipulating his corpse must have meant that his ability could not be used on the living. This confirmed for me that the information Mina gave me was true.
“Hear his crimes! Lugh Tuatha Dé has spread the dangerous falsehood that he was chosen by the goddess! This insolent behavior cannot be allowed to continue!” the hierarch declared.
The calls to punish me grew even louder. They weren’t chanting for my death; this was the center of the world’s religion, and people were too well-behaved for that. My disciplining was a guillotine to the neck, though, so it wasn’t like there was much difference.
“We have proof of his misdeeds! The Alam Karla, oracle of the goddess, has bestowed the following divine message: ‘Punish the false Holy Knight!’ If you have a defense, Lugh Tuatha Dé, speak it now,” the hierarch continued.
The demon had multiple reasons for going to such great lengths. The first was to eliminate me, as I’d been snowballing into a bigger threat to the demons than the hero was. Exhausting Epona was the second. The demon disguised as the hierarch—the Puppeteer—expected me to resist once it looked like I was about to be executed. If I did so, it would be the hero’s job to stop me. The plan would simultaneously eliminate an enemy of the demons and weaken Epona, who hadn’t been depleted at all, because I’d been fighting in her place. It took out two birds with one stone.
That was why I needed to undermine the Puppeteer’s assumptions. Fortunately, Epona was my friend, and she believed me over the hierarch.
I chose to live as a human in this life, and while searching for a path that doesn’t involve killing Epona, I ended up becoming her friend… And now that relationship is proving fortunate.
Had I only ever considered Epona as a target to kill and kept her at a distance, she probably would have done as the hierarch ordered and fought me.
I had one more supposition to tear down as well. To do so, I needed to end this absurd witch trial. The demon believed that I couldn’t properly defend myself because of the overmedication. I’d been acting like the drugs were affecting me to deceive everyone. Creeping up on a target from a blind spot and catching them off guard was standard practice for an assassin. Sometimes, instead of waiting for an opening, you had to make one yourself.
It was time to unveil the results of all my preparation.
“Might of Heaven!”
I blasted the three pairs of Sorcerer Cuffs off my hands using Might of Heaven, which gathered the mana scattered in the air by the Sorcerer Cuffs to perform a spell. With mana now filling my body, my restraints could no longer hold me. I tore myself out of my chains, forced my head out of the guillotine, and rolled my shoulders to get loose.
“Guards! Seize the criminal!” the hierarch commanded.
Six guards charged at me simultaneously. They were only ordinary humans. They moved in sync and looked relatively skilled, but they were no match for me. I dodged them, then gently dislocated their joints to immobilize them. In just a few seconds, I was the only one left standing. Everyone present was amazed by my masterful skill.
I raised my hands and addressed the hierarch. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I have no intention of running from this witch trial…or inquisition, as you call it. I merely removed these impediments to make it easier to speak.”
“How did you remove those Sorcerer Cuffs?!” the hierarch screamed.
I smiled boldly in response and cast a wind spell. It was very simple magic that did nothing but amplify my voice, but I had a specific reason for using it. The volume of your voice could be a huge advantage when appealing to the hearts of an audience. I also changed the quality of my voice slightly to make it resonate better and impart a more sincere impression.
Many people underestimated what was required to make an effective speech. It took far more than the words alone. Delivering an address meant putting on a performance and advocating to your crowd. The speaker needed to use gestures, the tone and volume of their voice, intonation, appearance, and more to win over the onlookers.
“A miracle of the goddess. She saved me and cleared my body of the drugs you forced into me as well,” I responded for all to hear. A murmur rose from the people.
The hierarch and the other high priests sitting next to him began to scream. Unfortunately for them, however, while their cries reached me, they did not reach the audience. There was no way natural voices could be heard by this large a crowd when every person in it was talking, even if they were doing so at a whisper.
The priests were my judges, so winning the hearing itself was an impossibility. As a result, I went in aiming for a different victory condition—winning the hearts of the masses.
I ignored the shrieking priests and continued talking. The key to my victory was earning the people’s support, so the best thing for me to do was amplify my voice further and drown out the priests.
“The goddess chose me and bestowed a means with which to defeat demons! I have obeyed her wishes and killed three of them! No ordinary human is capable of such deeds! I have achieved what I have because of the goddess’s blessing!”
The discourse among the throng grew. I could hear some voices; hearts were wavering. No matter what the hierarch accused me of, he couldn’t erase my accomplishments. There was also no explanation, save divine intervention, for how someone other than the hero could kill demons.
It wasn’t going to be that easy, though. The weight of the hierarch’s authority as the highest pillar of Alamism still held ground, and few people actually trusted my assertion. The audience had been confident of my crimes earlier, and now the dominating mood was confusion. That meant it was time to play my card.
I gave the signal, and few among the crowd responded.
This is where the real game begins.
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