Semi-Coercive Imperialist

…I attended this trial in person as a spectator to observe how things unfolded. I had to. It was a matter that would never be disclosed to the press.

As expected, the proceedings were a spectacle. Oswin’s background and stubbornness had gotten the retrial accepted, but the trial itself was already tilted.

The Imperial Guard would never back down, and the judge was on their side.

No, not just the judge. The entire judiciary might soon become their possession.

“The Genealogy Certificate has a very high probability of being a forgery.”

The witnesses called by the Imperial Guard. From the mouths of appraisers already bought and paid for, the word “forgery” rang out again and again.

On the other hand, Professor Oswin had no witnesses. Naturally. If you crossed the Imperial Guard, you might find yourself hanged before you even knew what happened.

“…Counsel. Before the trial date… you did not submit a single witness application before the hearing date.”

Even at the judge’s words, Professor Oswin kept his mouth shut.

Had he nothing to say, or had he already given up?

“Counsel. Are you forfeiting your argument?”

The judge asked as much, and Oswin raised his head.

“…No. I did not submit a separate witness application, however.”

As though he had made some resolve, he clenched his teeth.

“Pursuant to the In-Court Witness provision, I wish to call a new witness who is present in this courtroom to serve as an expert appraiser.”

In-Court Witness. A provision allowing a person present in the courtroom, including the gall⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠ery, to be called to the witness stand on the spot without separate procedures.

“…Here?”

“Yes. The witness I wish to call is seated right here in the gallery.”

He wrote up the application and submitted it, and the presiding judge looked at it. His expression flinched, wavering.

I, too, was just about to find this riveting, when in that very instant:

“I wish to call… The Sentinel knight seated over there.”

The professor spoke those strange words, tilting his gaze. His two upright eyes bored into me.

“I wish to call Sir Maximilian Ebenholtz as an expert appraiser.”

A development I never could have anticipated. Oswin pointed at me, and every spectator in the gallery turned to look.

This concentration of gazes and that line just now felt rather theatrical.

“……”

Suddenly, I found myself intrigued.

I met Oswin’s gaze in silence.

Since when had he known I was here?

“…O-objection!”

The Imperial Guard’s side abruptly sprang up like a coiled spring.

“Your Honor! A sudden witness request like this, one not agreed upon in advance whatsoever, could cause confusion to the court— the court and the trial!”

It was utter nonsense, yet the judge offered no response, merely reading my expression.

He was gauging my intentions. Weighing the balance of power once more.

Those bought with money kneel before greater money, and those who curry favor with power cling to greater power.

The inescapable logic of the strong devouring the weak.

“Sir Maximilian. Will you accept the witness request?”

The judge asked me courteously. I deliberated briefly, then removed my hat and gave a small nod.

“Very well. Please come forward to the witness stand.”

I rose from my seat, crossed the central aisle of the courtroom, and made my way forward. I took my place at the witness stand set below the bench.

“……”

Oswin and the Imperial Guard. The judge and the clerk. Oliver Müller’s mother, Sara Müller, all looked at me.

Mercifully, among them, there was no Ezenheim.

I spoke to Oswin Mason.

“Counsel. Show me the full list of evidence and all records.”

He submitted a thick bundle of documents before m⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠e.

* * *

──Tick.

The second hand moved.

Time flowed on.

Oswin rubbed his hands across his face as though it burned, while Maximilian quietly reviewed the evidence. Not a trace of change showed on his expression.

That stillness tensed everyone watching, in every possible way.

──Tick.

The lobby outside the courtroom. Lawyers who had just received some piece of news could not hide their bewilderment.

“No, what on earth is…”

“Why would Professor Oswin…”

“More importantly, why was Maximilian in there?”

“Why else? He came to keep watch.”

“So Maximilian is better than the Imperial Guard, is that it?”

“There’s no way.”

Maximilian. One of the very authors of the 「Imperial Citizenship Law」 was reviewing the authenticity of a Genealogy Certificate. The lawyers found the situation baffling. There was no chance that an imperialist steeped in elitism more deeply than any other noble would take the side of commoners branded as Thought Criminals.

“Even so, Maximilian is… one of the architects of the Imperial Citizenship Law.”

“Let’s just wait and see. You never know.”

They bit their lips and heaved sigh after heavy sigh.

──Tick.

Meanwhile, in Sonnet Kandel’s office. She, too, had heard the news from there. Informants scattered throughout the courthouse were bustling back and forth, relaying the current situation to her.

“……”

Sonnet pushed her glasses up and read the reports.

…To be honest.

She was hoping Oliver Müller would be safe.

This was the emotion called friendship.

No matter that she had spent half her life growing up numb within the imperial palace, she could not be entirely without such private feelings.

The mentor who had ta⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠ught her law and reason since childhood, Oswin Mason.

The student who had always been tucked in a corner of his school, devoted to his studies, Oliver Müller.

Under normal circumstances, a trial like this would never have been permitted to start. The sole reason she had gone so far as to incur a debt to Maximilian in order to make this trial happen was only one:

It was a gift for them.

The people who reminded Sonnet Kandel, as a human being, that she too had such a past, that even she possessed such human emotions.

For her sake.

“Hmm…”

Sonnet let out a faint sigh and quietly closed her eyes.

The darkness of the room wrapped around her, silent and warm.

──Tick.

The air inside the courtroom was cold as though frozen. Deathly silent, without so much as the sound of breathing. Every gaze was fixed on a single point.

Maximilian, examining the Genealogy Certificate. Characters and seals reflected in his sharp eyes.

“……”

Before lo⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠ng, he tapped the documents, including the Genealogy Certificate, into a neat stack and set them down.

He swept his gaze quietly across the people filling the room, and opened his mouth.

“I am not a document appraiser by profession, but.”

At that single utterance, the entire courtroom went rigid. The flow of the air, the weight of the space, all tilted toward him.

In the grip of extreme tension, every eye fixed solely on his lips as they formed each word.

“The Empire has, since ancient times, thoroughly and scrupulously managed bloodlines and family records in order to certify Aran lineage.”

Soon, an obsessive frenzy to dig up and verify even the records of one’s ancestors would sweep across the entire Empire.

“The grandparents’ Genealogy Certificate from thirty years ago, submitted by the defendants, along with the original birth certificates of his parents.”

Maximilian’s long, pale fingers slowly traced across the aged documents.

“The age and state of wear of the paper comprising these documents. The degree of discoloration in the ink used for the signatures.”

──Tick.

“Above all, the wear marks on the iron seal stamped by the government office, and the minute differences in pressure that seal left upon the grain of the paper.”

He scrutinized and cross-referenced every part of the documents, and.

“This Genealogy Certificate…”

Simply appraised the facts as they were, transparently, without the slightest addition, omission, or concealment──

“No traces of any forgery or alteration have been found. It can be presumed authentic.”

He merely appraised.

──Tick.

At his statement, the family members erupted in belated cheers, while the Imperial Guard’s complexions turned ugly. Even the judge pressed his brow in utter astonishment.

But Oswin alone stood apart from the uproar, merely staring blankly up at Maximilian.

“……”

The heir of Ebenholtz, and one of the architects of the Imperial Citizenship Law.

‘If you shed your preconceptions…. the most precise person…..’

He would not sell his honor merely to kill a single commoner. To simply enforce the law with rigor and precision, that was the nature of the noble called Maximilian…

──Tick.

Maximilian, at the witness stand, suddenly looked up at the clock above the courtroom.

──Tack.

It was a very— grating sound.

…….

Having received Maximilian’s official appraisal that the documents were not forged, the Imperial Guard could not dare challenge his authority. The appraisers who had testified to forgery scrambled over one another to submit revised opinions, claiming they had ‘belatedly’ discovered their grave errors, in a farce of a spectacle.

“…What a relief. Truly, what a relief.”

The office in Zestfall. Oswin Mason looked at the mother of the defendant, Oliver Müller.

“The next hearing has become very favorable.”

The mother, Sara Müller, covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders heaving as she barely contained the sobs that threatened to burst free.

“Just a few more nights, and your son will return safely.”

“Thank you… truly, truly, thank you, Professor…”

“No. Your thanks should not go to me, but.”

Oswin Mason looked around the interior of the office with reddened eyes.

Even though it was not their own affair, even though they had so much to lose by opposing the Imperial Guard, even though they risked being branded Thought Criminals and dragging their families into danger… the many lawyers and fellow scholars who had gathered here willingly to lend their wisdom in order to save an innocent young man.

“To everyone gathered here. And.”

Oswin gave a warm smile and gently comforted the weeping mother.

“In the end, it was Oliver’s faithful character that saved him, the way he never gave up even under a false accusation.”

─Knock knock.

A light knocking sound rang out just then.

“Hm?”

Who could it be at this hour?

Oswin walked over and opened the door. Standing before him was a woman in a wide-brimmed hat, Sonnet Kandel.

“I’ve heard the news. Congratulations, Professor.”

Sonnet Kandel offered a brief greeting in her flat, dry voice. Oswin’s face brightened.

“It was all thanks to your advice. I owe you a debt.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. It truly was. Even I had my o⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠wn preconceptions. Quite shamefully so.”

“……”

Sonnet remained silent, her expression unchanged. Oswin added, his voice brimming with fervor.

“But this is not the end. It’s only the beginning. Those Imperial Guard bastards rounded up countless young people indiscriminately in Zestfall, and among them there are still more than enough innocent ones as wrongly accused as Oliver.”

“……”

Not the end, but the beginning. There were still so many innocent young people.

Sonnet listened quietly to his words, then.

“Yes. Later, let’s see them together, with Oliver.”

She left behind a faint smile and turned away.

* * *

I paid a personal visit to the headquarters of the Special Imperial Guard Unit for the Proper Enforcement of the「Imperial Citizenship Law」. My purpose was to demand the original records on ‘Oliver Müller’, the key defendant in this thought trial.

“His appearance, birth certificate, and even his grandparents’ records are all perfectly consistent with a pure-blooded Aran.”

“Ah, yes. I’m not familiar with the situation on the ground. There was a separate investigator who actually hauled the guy in.”

Across from me in the visiting room sat Lieutenant Colonel Lorenz. A notorious war criminal before my regression, he was sweating profusely as he made his excuses.

“But well, no matter how clean someone’s Aran bloodline is, if their ideology is impure, rounding them up is the whole point of this law, isn’t it?”

If we only pursued physical evidence, we would end up letting the real traitorous bastards slip through our fingers. I agreed with that.

The adage ‘better to let ten criminals go free than to create one innocent victim’ was, in our era, nothing more than incompetence that would hasten annihilation.

But what mattered was the standard and the direction. Our strength was finite, and the edge of that blade had to be aimed squarely at Ezenheim.

It meant we could not afford to waste ourselves rounding up and locking away our fellow Aran.

“If the man was caught conspiring to openly oppose or resist the enforcement of Imperial law, then of course he should be punished.”

“Exactly. But those damn rats hide in the shadows and whisper amongst themselves, so it’s really hard to tell them apart. Our difficulties are also-“

“It’s not hard at all.”

I tapped the table lightly with my fingers and shot back coldly.

“That is, if you put more effort into routine surveillance and intelligence gathering.”

“…Honestly, we’d like to do that too. But in this Zestfall night school incident, there was this one bastard of an investigator with way too much zeal who pushed too hard to pad his numbers, so…”

Lorenz was desperate to dodge any responsibility.

He was no soldier like Schweitzer. Nor did he have exceptional backing like Reutern. A war criminal with no ability and nothing to his family name but new money.

In other words, worthless trash.

“Then bring me that overzealous investigator, and the suspect Oliver.”

I picked up Oliver’s case file as I spoke.

“…Yes. I’ll bring them at once.”

Lorenz shuffled out of the room, and I waited in silence.

Creeeak──

Soon the heavy iron door opened, and the moment someone stepped inside.

My fingers twitched, ever so slightly.

…Thump.

Beneath my collarbone, my heart pounded.

My complexion went stiff and rigid.

I lifted my gaze from the documents and slowly raised my head toward the doorway.

Clank.

A blood-soaked man approached, shackles on his wrists.

Clank.

Tortured until the skin across his entire body was torn and his bones seemed broken, a wretched figure barely standing on two feet.

Thump─

An innocent young man, tortured unjustly. From the body of ‘Oliver Müller’, whose innocence Oswin Mason and countless scholars had proclaimed──

My heart lurched once more, violently.

Thump─

I watched with a detached gaze as he collapsed heavily into the chair across from me.

Thump─

The full picture came to me at once.

The Genealogy Certificate was genuine, but what if the birth certificate had been filed without an actual birth having taken place?

In other words, what if it had been an adoption…?

I murmured his name.

“Oliver Müller.”

The darkness runs deep. Sometimes it seeps out from places we cannot know, from places we could never have imagined. It coils where we least expect it.

Perhaps that is simply their nature.

“…Is that your name?”

It seems I still do not fully understand this world.