Section 48: Events Before the Great Debate (Part I)

Child sat on a long bench. Before him, the room was packed with people, and behind him, though there were no seats, the space was equally crowded. People had not only filled this modest building to capacity but had also blocked the entrance outside.

This was a courtroom, and not even the Supreme Court of Landia, but merely the lower Court of First Instance.

Knight Linde stood behind Child as always, mirroring his cold gaze toward the judge's bench. Below the bench were two rows of smaller tables; the plaintiffs sat on the left, and the defendants on the right.

"What on earth is Fahrenheit playing at?" Linde could not help but lean in to whisper to Child. Today was the day the Landian National Assembly was officially scheduled to receive the two papal envoys. Child had been prepared to engage in a debate on Capitol Hill against those anti-clerical legislators and the cunning Fahrenheit—a battle that would be no less intense than a struggle for survival.

Child had long realized that for Landia to submit, force would ultimately be required. The church’s hierarchy was not foolish enough to hope that mere eloquence could persuade a southern nation that was slowly taking on the character of a merchant state. That was why they had prepared for an offensive, even going so far as to persuade the Golden Lily and the northern nations to join them. Yet, Child would not miss any opportunity to drive a wedge into the enemy’s ranks or sow discord. If they could divide the enemy and fracture Landia from within, that would be ideal. If that proved impossible, shaking the enemy's resolve or leaving them with false illusions about their opponent's strength—making them underestimate the church’s unyielding determination—would still serve the coming war.

Once war begins, it is iron and blood, death and carnage. It becomes a matter of who is better prepared, whose fist is heavier, and whose will is firmer. Without a doubt, sworn in the name of the Lord of Radiance, victory would belong to the believers and servants of the Lord.

"Watch and see. No matter what he is plotting, he must let us into the Capitol. If he shuts us out, he will have no way to convince the people of Landia, for we come representing 'goodwill' and 'peace.' To refuse us is his active choice for war, rather than a forced one, and the sympathy of other southern nations for Fahrenheit will be greatly diminished," Child said, narrowing his eyes.

Because of this current lawsuit, Fahrenheit had informed them just last night that their entry to the Capitol might be delayed. Three days ago, someone had filed a lawsuit against the entire cabinet. The matter had rocked all of Valencia. Now, everyone was waiting for this trial. According to judicial procedure, the case was scheduled for today, so Fahrenheit had to inform Child that they must wait for the conclusion of this trial before proceeding to the Capitol together.

"What is this? Are we to wait for the sake of a mere commoner's case?" Linde asked, deeply dissatisfied.

Child’s face was grim. When Fahrenheit sent someone to notify them, he claimed that they had petitioned the court for a postponement, but the court had refused. Child did not believe this phrasing. Could the esteemed cabinet of Landia truly be unable to even delay a civil case?

The person sent to notify them was the same fellow whose name Linde had noted previously—a man who seemed to go by the name "Crow." He had told them with a look of regret that there was nothing to be done, for this was Landia, where the law was supreme. Unless Fahrenheit and his colleagues could prove a case of force majeure to justify a delay, any attempt to interfere would be seen as obstruction of justice.

A small door to the side of the courtroom opened. The presiding judge, in solemn hair and black robes, walked out with his two assistants. The soldiers responsible for maintaining order held their matchlock muskets and commanded those with seats to stay seated, while those without had to leave the courtroom—even if they stood just outside the door, they could not remain inside without a seat, or they would be violating the law.

Linde paid particular attention to the matchlock muskets in the soldiers' hands. These guns were reportedly being phased out by the army; the Landian military was undergoing a massive re-equipping, and the workshop owners had been receiving numerous orders, working day and night to fulfill them. Linde had been following Child's orders to have the church’s remaining contacts in Valencia collect this intelligence in secret. However, gathering such information had become increasingly difficult. There were now many Landians hostile to the church, and even some believers who had previously enjoyed good relations with the church were now too afraid of the zealots to offer any overt support. This was all the result of Martin—who had not died. The two envoys had underestimated the inflammatory power and destructive potential of this commoner who opposed the church. At first, they had only intended to disperse his commoner-style protests, but who could have known he would truly influence so many people? When the church decided to silence him, their attempts failed one after another, revealing that he had secret support; otherwise, he could not have withstood the church’s methods.

It was only then that Child truly began to take Martin seriously, realizing he was a hidden piece played by Fahrenheit. But by then, the best opportunity to resolve the incident through other means had passed. Their previous attempts to stop Martin had been discovered. The only path left was to maintain a hardline stance: kill Martin, and while the church's lingering prestige remained, use iron-fisted tactics to conquer the public heart. This had nearly succeeded, as Child had persuaded the Third Enforcement Squad of the Tribunal, who happened to be passing through. With professionals of that caliber involved, even though Fahrenheit had kept men stationed to protect Martin, the squad had successfully carried out the assassination. Yet, the final result was that Martin survived miraculously. When he was helped out of the infirmary to tell his supporters that his life was safe and that evil would be punished, Child’s expression was, perhaps, one of the bleakest of his life.

The judge stepped onto the bench and tapped his gavel to signal silence. His assistant opened the People’s Code placed upon the bench. The judge and his two assistants simultaneously placed their right hands upon the code and began their oath: "For justice and reason, even if the heavens fall and the earth rends!"

Then, the plaintiffs and defendants took their oaths, the content being nothing more than: "I, [Name], solemnly swear that everything I say in this court is the true and valid reality."

The plaintiff was a miller. His suit claimed that his mill had been forcibly demolished under an order signed by the Fahrenheit cabinet, and since the ownership of the mill belonged to him, the government had no right to demolish it.

The defendants were the entire cabinet, as the order bore the signatures of Fahrenheit and the Minister of the Interior. They had ordered the demolition of all houses in that area for municipal renovation, never expecting to have overlooked the property rights of this single mill. However, the cabinet, led by Fahrenheit, did not appear in person. Standing in the defendant's box were two people: one was the "Crow" that Linde recognized, who had been temporarily entrusted to represent them in the hearing; the other wore solemn robes and kept his hair meticulously groomed. He was a member of a newly birthed profession—a lawyer. Since Landia had enacted the People’s Code, this emerging profession had appeared, dedicated to representing others in court. This profession had changed the old trial model, shifting from an inquisitorial system to an adversarial one, using professional advocates to represent the plaintiffs and defendants in debate.