Hey, why should I bother with an old man who claims his days are numbered? Let him laugh if he pleases.
Soren, the child, glanced around: "I think the only one Rodneym could possibly offend is me."
Sure enough, old Hagelberry’s laughter arrived as expected, prompting even Malin to crack a smile.
Then the child’s father laughed as well.
When everyone had their fill of laughter, Malin approached the child and gently ruffled his hair: "Alright, my child, let’s continue."
After speaking, Malin turned back around, his smile fading with his turn. When Malin faced the Chief Justice, the expressionless face of the double-legendary figure extended a hand and a chair with legs sprang up behind the honorable gentleman.
"Please, take a seat."
After Malin also sat down, a bench formed by Fio and Lorrin allowed Malin to find a relatively comfortable position to face the upcoming confessions of the criminals.
Minster sat down, looking at Malin with righteous indignation: "Your Excellency, I am the Chief Justice of the Northern Kingdom."
"Yes, you are the Chief Justice now," Malin replied, turning to King Manheim. The kingdom looked to old Hagelberry: "What do you say, Lord Hagelberry?"
"Given that Minster Farole has been implicated in a dishonorable affair, he is no longer the Chief Justice, effective immediately. Malin, my child, you may go ahead and inquire."
Malin offered Mr. Minster a cold smile: "You see, you were indeed Chief Justice, but unfortunately, you are not anymore. So, I wish to know, on the forty-seventh day of summer two years ago, why Alice Moriarty was ultimately acquitted in the murder of police officers."
"Someone turned themselves in, confessing to the killing of the three officers." The former Chief Justice’s memory was good, producing an answer immediately.
Malin nodded, acknowledging his statement—which was, of course, also recorded in the case file.
"Afterward, the Church of Justice, the Church of the War God, and the Benevolent Church each interrogated the murderer, confirming that he had lied. The three Churches jointly demanded a retrial; why did you reject their request?" Malin asked his second question.
"Because I believe the Church should not interfere with the secular world," the Chief Justice replied assuredly.
Malin turned to his apprentice: "Child, next, I’ll show you a little piece of magic."
Then, under Soren’s expectant gaze, Malin turned back and, in the next second, stood up, crossing the nearly twenty-yard distance between them. Malin placed his hand on Minster’s head: "Minster, how much money did you receive for this affair?"
Divine Arts struck Minster’s head. The middle-aged man was initially startled, but soon after Malin released his hand, he began howling, stood up, and grasping at his sparse hair, rolled on the ground and then started smashing his head.
"Teacher, could he kill himself doing that?" came Soren’s question from behind Malin. The child was at an age of ’I’m very curious’ about everything in the world, and of course, he would be the greatest nemesis of all the old yellow dogs.
"Normally, yes, but the teacher is here, so no," Malin replied while giving the gentleman a quick and effective treatment.
Then, under everyone’s eyes, Minster gradually ceased his madness, stood up, and knelt before Malin.
"I received a total of one hundred thousand Mowish, forty thousand for myself, thirty thousand as special comfort money for the families of the three officers, and the rest was shared among all the participants of the trial." The middle-aged man bowed his head in the most devout of manners: "I am guilty, Malin Gaiate, Your Excellency. I confess everything to you, if only to seek forgiveness, and understand that for years my sins have been unforgivable."
"Understanding this proves there’s still hope for you," Malin said, returning to his chair. "Tell me about the case on the first day of winter four years ago; what exactly happened, and who meddled in the entire case, enabling Alice Moriarty’s only son to escape his crimes?" Malin asked while sitting back down, but in the eyes of all present, Malin was scrutinizing the High Lords before him.
"No need to say more, I instructed Minster Farole to do so," said the tall man who emerged from the High Lords, looking at Malin: "I am Karin Doma, son of old Doma."
"Why?" Malin’s inquiry was concise and to the point.
"Alice Moriarty’s only son is under my command; I have the right and the duty to help him, and those he killed were just some paupers and serfs, their lives are worthless in our realm. In comparison to him, even less significant. And you, just a few days ago, killed him; to you, his life was merely contemptible. That is a fact of our nation, Your Excellency."
"Child, is he strong?" Malin turned to Soren. After all, Malin knew very little about the political ecology of the Northern Kingdom; for anyone from Farole’s nobility, Malin could recount what their family had been doing for generations.
"He’s strong; Karin Doma, the second son of Duke Doma of the Western province of our country, a half-step legend, a first-grade investigator of the church’s research division." Soren provided a comprehensive answer before adding, allowing Malin to grasp the implication: "Everyone says he was born in the Purple Chamber, his father and all the lords here should know what that means."