Lord Marshal drew the curtains of his office aside, allowing the midday light to flood the room.
He then slowly turned his head toward the man behind him.
"So... it's time..."
The man's face was still hidden in shadow. He slightly bowed his head and said,
"Yes. Your interrogation before the High Court begins in half an hour."
Lord Marshal smiled softly as he gazed at the sky.
"Good..."
The man stared at Lord Marshal for a moment.
"Could you tell me what's good about any of this?"
Lord Marshal turned around and opened his desk drawer. He took out an envelope, lowered his head, and stared at it.
"The fact that I won't have to mourn my friends."
The man looked at Lord Marshal for a moment, then said,
"Cruelty?"
Lord Marshal continued staring at the envelope in his hand. His grip tightened more and more until he finally spoke.
"Leave... It may be my last order to you."
The man bowed his head again.
"Yes. Understood."
He turned and left the room.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the office. A few drops fell onto the envelope.
Once again, the same memory began to surface in his mind.
Eight years ago, Isle of Wight:
Fire engulfed the fields and forests.
Lord Marshal knelt beside the body of a young boy, crying.
A man approached from behind, carrying a lantern and his broken spear.
His footsteps grew closer and closer until he finally reached Lord Marshal.
Lord Marshal stared at his blood-covered hands.
"I... I couldn't do anything... I couldn't keep my pro—"
Before Lord Marshal could finish, the man spoke.
"You didn't do anything wrong... Get up. Let's go. The Commander is waiting."
Lord Marshal raised his voice.
"This child... he was your son. Why are you acting like this... Nathaniel?"
He struggled to his feet and turned toward Nathaniel.
"Why aren't you saying anything? Why aren't you blaming me? Where are your tears? Are you heartless? You don't even understand what family means..."
Nathaniel suddenly shouted.
"What do you want me to say!?"
Lord Marshal fell silent.
Nathaniel continued.
"What do you expect me to tell you!? That you're incompetent? Or do you expect me to kill you!? Even the Commander lost an arm. You and I are soldiers. Why should I expect anything special from you!?"
Lord Marshal raised his hand slightly, but Nathaniel firmly pushed it away.
"Why did you think you were more upset than I was!? Tell me, Mr. Emotional! You think you're grieving my family's death more than I am!? Who the hell do you think you are to even think that, Bennett!?"
Lord Marshal took a step back.
Nathaniel dropped his spear and lantern to the ground without another word. He walked past Lord Marshal, knelt beside his son's body, and pulled him into his arms.
He passed Lord Marshal once more and began walking toward the hills.
Lord Marshal reached out for a moment.
"Nathaniel..."
But Nathaniel continued on without looking back.
Lord Marshal slowly lowered his hand and bowed his head.
"Sir!? Sir!?"
Lord Marshal opened his eyes.
"What... What happened?"
The man standing before him let out a breath.
"How did you fall asleep in a situation like this!? Get up. You need to leave now if you're going to make it to the court on time!"
Lord Marshal glanced at the desk for a moment.
Photographs of himself and Nathaniel with the rest of their friends were scattered across the entire desk.
"I see..."
The man spoke again.
"Sir, are you sure you want to arrive late to the High Court?"
Lord Marshal raised his head and stared at the man in front of him for a moment before suddenly snapping back to reality.
"What!? What time is it!?"
The man looked at the clock.
"Almost 12:50..."
Lord Marshal slammed his hand onto the desk.
Without saying a word, he opened the window.
"Sir, your report..."
Lord Marshal turned toward the man, took the report files from him, and jumped out the window.
The man stared at the window for a moment, then held his head and muttered,
"This Wind Spell really is a decent means of transportation..."
He then left the room.
The doors of the court opened.
The Chief Justice, the Lord Chancellor, the Bishop of St. Paul's, the First Sea Lord, and the Commander-in-Chief were seated in their respective places.
Soldiers stood all around the hall.
Lord Marshal paused for a moment, then stepped inside.
He walked only a few steps forward before the doors behind him closed.
The sound of a gavel echoed through the hall.
"Lord Marshal, Supreme Director of the National Protection Organization and responsible for the security of the capital, please take the stand for questioning."
Lord Marshal paused, took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the report, and walked toward the stand.
Meanwhile, Criminal Investigation Department.
Victor glanced at the pitcher and two empty glasses on the table for a moment.
Suddenly, the door opened and a man quietly entered the room.
He placed a clipboard on the table and sat down.
Victor smiled.
"Why did you bring me here? I submitted my report this morning..."
The Inspector smiled, pushed the clipboard toward Victor, and said,
"We're aware of that, Mr. Sterling. However, you are suspected of collaborating with the enemy."
Victor glanced at the clipboard, then raised his head.
"Collaborating with the enemy?"
The Inspector calmly picked up the pitcher and poured some water into Victor's glass.
He then placed the pitcher back where it had been.
Silence filled the room.
Victor tightened his grip on the clipboard.
The Inspector suddenly spoke.
"Why are you the only one still alive?"
Victor looked surprised, then smiled.
"Was I supposed to die? Sounds painful."
The Inspector sighed.
"That was a good one. I'll add it to my list."
Victor picked up his glass and took a sip.
"Well, Inspector... didn't you have any tea?"
A mocking smile appeared on the Inspector's face.
"Allow me to phrase my question more clearly..."
Victor's fingers tightened around the glass.
"How did you survive the Tower of London incident? Your report concerning the events in the City of London is acceptable, but you still need to provide a convincing explanation for why you threw the enemy's body into the river. But... why didn't you report anything about the Tower of London?"
Victor placed the glass on the table.
"I wasn't in a suitable state of mind..."
The Inspector immediately replied,
"You are now."
Victor held the glass tightly between both hands and stared at the clipboard.
"You think my mental state can recover that quickly?"
The Inspector closed his eyes.
"Someone who has spent most of his life building automatons and military equipment doesn't lose his mind over the deaths of a few madmen."
Victor squeezed the glass harder.
"They weren't just a few people... They were my best friends. Two of the finest commanders in the NPO!"
The Inspector gave him a faint smile.
"Then how did they die while you survived?"
Victor tightened his grip even further, but suddenly released the glass.
"What did you put in this?"
The Inspector glanced at the pitcher.
"I was ordered by my superior to put a sedative in your water. But the fact that it affected you this quickly... seems you have a rather weak constitution."
Victor clenched his fists, his eyes barely staying open.
"I could have you reported for this..."
The Inspector was about to say something when Victor suddenly collapsed onto the table.
The Inspector stared at him for a moment, then looked at the pitcher.
"So the rumors about his poor constitution weren't false... Damn. How long is he going to stay asleep?"
The Inspector slowly rose from his chair and walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he glanced at Victor once more, then exited the room.
Several seconds passed.
The sounds around him gradually faded away.
Victor opened his eyes, sat up, and took a deep breath.
"Idiot... He even told me what drug he used. Made pretending to be asleep much easier."
He stood from the chair and stretched.
"I really don't have the patience for an interrogation... I wish I could just leave. I was supposed to get a release order from Lord Marshal after the morning report."
He began pacing around the room.
"If we assume he's gone to speak with his superior, then either his superior will come here to check on my condition, or they won't bother me for at least two hours..."
He suddenly stopped.
"If I tell them what happened at the Tower of London... they'll probably ask why I didn't intervene sooner."
He leaned against the desk and muttered,
"Why... Why am I thinking about this so calmly when two of my friends are dead?"
His grip on the desk tightened.
"Damn it."
Night Keepers Medical Center:
The Inspector held the clipboard in his hand, raised a sheet of paper, and looked at Sebastian.
"Mr. Sebastian Oakley, from the Eighth Unit of the Night Explorers... We have a few questions that need to be answered."
Sebastian gave him a gentle smile.
"With pleasure!"
The Inspector looked at Sebastian's smile.
"Did I say something that made you happy?"
Sebastian slowly shook his head.
"No, no. I'm just a cheerful and easygoing person in general. Don't take it personally, Inspector."
The Inspector looked down at his clipboard.
"May I ask by what right you caused a Duke to go to the Royal Arsenal and even rendered him unconscious? When..."
Sebastian interrupted him.
"Ah, yes... One moment!"
Sebastian pulled out a sheet of paper that had been tucked beneath his pillow and handed it to the Inspector.
The Inspector looked at Sebastian with an offended expression.
"What's this?"
Sebastian replied with complete courtesy.
"Just read it."
The Inspector took the paper and began reading.
House of Montagu
Having considered the events at the Royal Arsenal, Mr. William Helms, Senior Advisor to the House of Montagu, hereby declares Sebastian Oakley innocent and exempts him from any further interrogation due to the assistance he provided to His Grace, the Duke of Manchester, Mr. Elias Montagu, at the Royal Arsenal.
This document was prepared following consultation with the Senior Counsel of the House of Montagu, Mr. Leonard Vance, and the Head Butler of the House, Mr. Frederick Clayton.
Should this declaration of innocence be violated, the House of Montagu will pursue the matter accordingly.
Signed. Three seals.
The Inspector stared at Sebastian with widened eyes, handed the document back to him, stood up, and said,
"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Oakley. I won't trouble you any further."
He then walked toward the door.
Sebastian waved with a smile.
After the Inspector left, he let out a sigh of relief.
"That was close... Good thing I asked Mr. Helms for a letter like this that very morning."
───────────────────────────
Evening, City of London.
A man sat across from a shopkeeper and said,
"Hey, have you heard? Apparently, the High Court decided to send Lord Marshal to Edinburgh for a while..."
The shopkeeper leaned against his counter.
"I really don't understand what goes through the minds of the High Court... If Lord Marshal leaves London, then who's going to be responsible for the city's security?"
Another man sitting at the counter spoke.
"Forget about that. I heard the police shut down the offices of the Evening Standard and the Globe..."
The shopkeeper looked at the man sitting at the counter.
"Yeah... Do you think they'll raise the taxes?"
A man from the back of the shop spoke.
"What, do you think they're doing it for no reason!? Is the Treasury empty? Why would they raise taxes over a little reconstruction?"
The man sitting across from the shopkeeper nodded.
"I agree. We pay this much in taxes, and the moment something happens, they can't just empty the Treasury and raise them again..."
Several people nodded.
The man at the counter spoke again.
"Do you think Lord Marshal will be removed from his position?"
The shopkeeper let out a breath.
"Who cares? As long as they don't raise the taxes, they can do whatever they want!"
A small commotion broke out at the back of the shop.
Someone said,
"A bunch of stupid nobles and politicians got themselves into power and now they do whatever they want with this country!"
The shopkeeper slammed his hand onto the counter.
"Enough, enough... If they hear you, I'll get dragged into trouble too. Nothing's going to change... We just have to live with it."
Silence returned.
Another person spoke.
"I heard the Royal Arsenal has been shut down for a while. Does anyone here work there?"
The man sitting across from the shopkeeper turned around.
"Yeah... me. They told us they're shutting the Royal Arsenal down for an entire week."
The shopkeeper held his cigarette in his hand.
"They're putting people out of work too... I think we'd better spend some time reading the revelations handed down by Celestia, House of Angels..."
The man sitting across from the shopkeeper lowered his head.
"That's not such a bad idea..."