Chapter 439: Trial That Defies Fate (4)

The one who commits a crime must be punished.

It’s a simple principle, so self-evident that it’s rarely questioned.

It’s often treated like a natural order, something that should naturally unfold as it ought to.

But fundamentally, a crime is an act.

Punishment is a judgment of that act.

To say something should never have happened is already self-contradictory the moment it does happen.

Even for vampires, it’s no different.

So, the two must be clearly distinguished…

What should not happen and what has not happened.

“I have one question. What was the accused’s motive?”

At my question, the Ancilla quickly replied,

“Revenge for her mother, as she herself admitted.”

“Revenge? That’s interesting. Do you remember the desire from your human days, Harpy?”

I called her by a name no one had taught me.

Something that should’ve been impossible to know, but Harpy simply assumed I’d heard it from somewhere.

That was the natural response.

Who would ever suspect Mind Reading?

Harpy replied.

“That’s irrelevant to this case.”

“Of course. Who cares about what happened before one became a vampire? What use is a life already lost to someone reborn through spilled blood?”

I shrugged and continued,

“You’re saying Lyre attacked Luscynia to carry out revenge from her human life… but doesn’t that give too much credit to a mere Neonate?”

“Lyre isn’t a Neonate. Though she was classified as one due to receiving Lily’s blood, Lord Luscynia also shared his blood, so technically—”

“Exactly! That patchwork pedigree was Luscynia’s own doing, wasn’t it?”

She might’ve tried to use that point against me, but I was waiting for it.

A debate isn’t a fight between you and and your opponent.

The real victory lies in making the opponent argue with themselves.

You bait them, wait for a slip, and then turn their own words against them.

No one wins against themselves.

“Mr. Luscynia ordered Lyre to attack him, to rebel against her maker. Whether it aligned with Lyre’s will or she was forced, we don’t know, but either way, it’s something that wouldn’t have happened without the Elder’s intention. Am I wrong?”

“… She may have found some way to break the Shackles.”

“What way?”

“The method? That’s something Lyre should clarify.”

“No, no. You said earlier that suggesting a possibility isn’t enough, didn’t you?”

Seizing the slip of her own words, I pressed harder.

“Until now, vampires have operated under a strict hierarchy reinforced by the Blood Shackles. Lyre’s case is exceptional, but my explanation is the most logical and consistent one. Meanwhile, you’re asserting that there’s some mysterious method to break the shackles, yet you can’t even say what it is.”

Even with that sarcasm, Harpy still had more to say.

“She uses a strange power. When it comes to keeping people alive, she surpasses even Lord Luscynia. It’s not odd that she might have some unknown ability.”

“An unknown power that no one’s aware of and that she supposedly used to do all this? That’s what we call impossible to prove. Your honor, what’s your opinion on this?”

Even if they insisted on something, this was a courtroom and the Progenitor, who was also my ally, was presiding.

Tyr wouldn’t dismiss a sound argument just to indulge bias.

She nodded and replied.

“The defense’s claim is reasonable. Without Luscynia’s implicit or explicit approval, it seems impossible that Lyre could have committed such an act, and there is sufficient circumstantial evidence that Luscynia intended it.”

The rest of the vampires seemed to agree.

Vampires might not be entirely rational beings, but their cold blood doesn’t let them misjudge due to sentiment.

An Ancilla’s feelings are of no concern.

With things turning against her, Harpy cried out desperately,

“When a retainer has no maker, or their maker is gone, they can still act freely! Like me! Therefore, Lyre isn’t exempt from responsibility!”

“Then that means she couldn’t have taken the Primordial Essence without her maker’s permission.”

“I doubt Lord Luscynia ordered her to claim his Primordial Essence!”

Oho.

Nice pivot.

She shifted the focus from motive to outcome.

“As the consort has said, it could have been Lord Luscynia’s will, or it could not have been. We don’t know.”

We?

Speak for yourself.

I know.

“Regardless of whether it was intentional or not, the Primordial Essence of an Elder should only be handled by the Progenitor. Taking it after his death is undeniably a sin! She must return the blood!”

“That, too, might have been Mr. Luscynia’s wish, right?”

“I’ll return your earlier words right back at you.”

Suggesting a possibility doesn’t change anything.

I knew that.

But I wasn’t planning to leave it at just a possibility.

“You’re right. As it stands, she holds the Primordial Essence, and that fact alone is a crime.”

“Exactly!”

“…Then!”

I spun toward Tyr, who was watching me with a faint smile.

Seems she was enjoying the show.

As the vampires had said, the facts of this trial hardly mattered.

Logic and truth were only tools to sway the Progenitor.

She alone would decide the outcome, and no one could dispute it.

Because of the existence of the Blood Shackles.

“This trial… is no longer about judging the murder of an Elder, is it? The focus has shifted. This isn’t a trial to punish the culprit who killed Mr. Luscynia—it’s a judgment on what to do with his death. On where to entrust his Primordial Essence.”

And I am the Progenitor’s consort.

If it comes down to pillow talk persuasion, I’ll win every time.

Defeated, Harpy’s face twisted bitterly.

Claiming that unbound Ancilla act freely is one thing, but look at her.

How free does she actually seem?

“Your Honor, I believe the focus of this trial has shifted from finding the Elder’s killer to deciding what should be done with the outcome of his death.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“If the focus has changed, then proper preparation is necessary. I request a single day of recess.”

It is dragging the trial out, sure—but the more time I buy, the more this tilts in my favor.

But then, Tyr looked at me with a curious expression and asked.

“A single day? Would such a short rest be enough?”

“…Whether it’s short or not, I believe that’s what we need.”

“Hmm. If that is the case…”

Anyway, I was the consort, and Tyr was openly on my side.

Nodding, she rose from her seat and declared,

“We did not gather here today to avenge Luscynia’s grudge. This court was convened to understand what happened to him and determine how to respond to his death.”

Vampires are sensitive to the death of their kin mainly because such occasions were rare.

Many others agreed with the Progenitor’s words.

“Still, after hearing the testimonies, I must say Hu’s point carries weight. It is clear that Luscynia either pursued rebellion or engaged in experiments of similar magnitude, enough to wager even his life. If he had some specific intent, the most certain way to know would be to ask him… but the annihilated do not speak.”

Dead men tell no tales.

That’s why the living project their own ideas onto them, trying to give closure to the ones left behind.

But vampires have already died once.

They aren’t interested in sentimental stories.

“Then, the matter must now shift. What remains is whether Lyre Nightingale is qualified—and what should be done with the Primordial Essence. We shall adjourn briefly and resume discussions afterward.”

It was a declaration as cold as ice, fitting for vampires.

Memorials and mourning are for ordinary humans.

Just like Harpy, who couldn’t manage her emotions at all right now.

The feathers that once bristled mid-trial now drooped like wet plumage.

Harpy, now three or four times smaller than she had first appeared, clenched her sharp fingers and muttered,

“…Your Excellency the Progenitor. Have you abandoned us?”

“I have never abandoned you.”

“Lyre Nightingale is a Neonate. She has inherited Lord Luscynia’s blood, mingled with it, and twisted it. We, Ancillae, cannot serve a Neonate as our Elder.”

This went beyond simply not wanting to.

If a Neonate were to become an Elder—especially someone like Lyre, whose pedigree was a scrambled mess—then those bound to her blood would also be cast adrift.

If Lyre, once forcibly unshackled from the shackles by Luscynia’s own will, took the Primordial Essence… then the Ancillae once loyal to Luscynia would be ripped from their place in the hierarchy as well.

The Ancillae didn’t want Lyre to die just out of spite.

If she took the Primordial Essence and became their Elder, they’d become strange, out-of-place beings in this society.

Like Lyre herself, they would become vampires cast from the shackles.

Watching the nervous Ancillae, I made a single guess.

Maybe… Elder Luscynia foresaw even this scene.

“That too,” Tyr said firmly, “is not for you to decide. It will be addressed in this hall tomorrow. We will hear from all relevant parties before reaching a conclusion.”

Her announcement left no room for rebuttal.

Harpy bowed deeply, wrapped in silent despair.

“…As you command.”

Seems like there’s nothing more to be said.

I spoke up on behalf of everyone.

“Then this session is adjourned!”

– Thump.

With that solemn sound, the trial came to a halt.