Chapter Forty-Seven: Returning Home

Colonel Hebru’s sudden confession greatly accelerated the entire trial. Everything had essentially become clear, and just at that moment, the lawyer who had been foaming at the mouth regained consciousness. This man truly seemed to be quite capable, and it was obvious he had been brought in by the city lord, following the city lord’s lead in every regard.

He paid little attention to the specifics of Colonel Hebru’s own case, focusing all his energy on proving that Laulu had indeed trespassed into the Security Office—a fact Kevin could not dispute, as it was undeniably true. Moreover, Laulu had suffered injuries from a trap array, a point that could not be refuted.

Still, Kevin did his utmost to muddy the waters and confuse the issue, at least succeeding in getting the charges against Little Spoon and Little Nine dismissed. Fortunately, both had been masked during their actions, so no one had seen their faces. Later, when Little Spoon carried Laulu away, it was in the dead of night and the soldiers couldn’t see clearly.

Kevin insisted, “After Laulu escaped, Little Spoon and Little Nine encountered him by chance and, out of kindness, carried him back.” With both women being quite attractive, they did indeed appear harmless. Due to insufficient evidence, the two judges were willing to believe in their innocence.

As for Laulu, his wounds could be confirmed—there was no way out for him. Kevin dared not stretch the truth too far, for if caught in a lie, it would damage his credibility and cast doubt on his other arguments as well.

Left with no choice, Kevin could only accept this outcome: Laulu was convicted of trespassing, and as for Colonel Hebru, he too could not escape punishment. Deliberately undermining the peace between two nations was obviously not his idea alone; it had to be a broader strategic plan. But, without doubt, he was made to shoulder the blame, and he did so willingly—Kevin could do nothing about it.

When it came to sentencing, however, the three judges held differing opinions. None of them knew the actual laws of the Kingdom of Laibozi’er, which were themselves incomplete, so each instinctively defaulted to their own nation’s legal traditions.

Naturally, there were great differences between the three races. The elven judge, being more gentle, proposed that Laulu be imprisoned for two months, and Colonel Hebru for life. The beastfolk judge, whose legal system was crude and direct, suggested that both simply be executed. The judge from the Kingdom of Layne was clearly biased: Laulu should get no less than three years, and Colonel Hebru should merely be dismissed and investigated.

None of the judges would give way, and a heated argument broke out, each banging the table and defending their position—none intimidated, for all three were formidable in their own right. This left the rest of the court amazed. The idea behind appointing three judges was to avoid deadlock, with the minority submitting to the majority, but no one had anticipated that all three would propose different verdicts.

At this point, no one else could intervene. There were no relevant statutes to reference; the judges relied on their own judgment. Kevin could hardly say to them, “Your feelings are wrong—mine are correct.”

Even the city lord and other high-ranking officials, who had originally intended to say a few words, found it inconvenient to speak up after being rebuffed by Kevin earlier.

The three judges debated until noon, before the elven and beastfolk judges each agreed to a compromise, while the Layne judge’s obvious bias led the others to ignore him entirely. Thus, a reasonable verdict was reached: Laulu would serve two years in prison, and Colonel Hebru would be imprisoned for life.

The verdict had been delivered, but its execution depended on the soldiers of Laibozi’er, who in reality answered only to the city lord. The three judges were judges in name only. Still, since the city lord had recognized the legitimacy of this court, he had to enforce the verdict—at least on the surface—unless he wished to abolish the court altogether.

“Take them away!” ordered the city lord.

Laulu was still lying on a bed, unable to get up due to his injuries, and had been dragged to the court in that state. The guards took hold of the bed and carried him off. The others wanted to say something, but no words came. Colonel Hebru was also led away, destination unknown.

Though the sentence was life imprisonment, it would be carried out in another country—who could truly oversee its implementation? It was impossible for the three ad hoc judges to monitor the process, so how faithfully the punishment would be executed was anyone’s guess.

“Court dismissed!” declared the Layne judge, striking the gavel to mark the session’s end.

The city lord waved his hand, “Let’s go.” Instantly, all the guards began to withdraw. Kevin and the others followed the ambassador, trailing behind the soldiers. Only a crowd of curious citizens remained, many of whom stepped onto the dais, picked up the gavel, and imitated the judges, shouting, “The court is adjourned!”

This drew a round of laughter, but soon another squad of guards arrived to chase the crowd away and restore the hall to its original state. Clearly, this nation still had no real use for a court.

Kevin and the others continued to follow the ambassador, who said, “That’s about the end of this matter. Mr. Kevin, you did well.”

Kevin only shook his head. “I failed. Who knows what will happen to Laulu, injured as he is, locked up here for two years.”

“Don’t worry, they wouldn’t dare do anything,” the ambassador assured. “Our nation will soon take measures against Laibozi’er. You’ll know the details when the time comes.”

Little Spoon, head bowed, asked quietly, “So our mission has failed?”

The ambassador did not reply, tacitly acknowledging it.

Indeed, that was the reality. Though Kevin had spoken with righteousness in the Security Office and the courtroom, these were only emergency measures. From the moment Laulu was wounded by the array, the mission had already failed. Originally, they had planned to assassinate someone of similar rank, in retaliation for the attack on their own kingdom’s army. But as things stood, the would-be assassin was now in prison, their side was sorely lacking in strength, and finishing the mission was impossible. The mysterious old man from the portrait had yet to be exposed. Their only accomplishment was to have the intended target “imprisoned for life”—but whether that sentence would truly be carried out was impossible to know.

What would happen next? Perhaps the kingdom would send stronger assassins, escalate with soft-power sanctions, or simply issue a strong protest through the foreign ministry. In any case, it was no longer Kevin’s concern.

“Hurry back home,” the ambassador instructed as he escorted Kevin and the others to the city gates. “Kevin, be careful—you offended the city lord directly in court; I don’t know what measures he might take. Leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes,” Kevin nodded.

“You’re a talented man,” the ambassador added, “let me give you something.”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Kevin quickly bowed in gratitude.

“This is my magic notebook. It contains common spells used across the continent. I know your body rejects elemental magic, so you won’t be able to practice most of these. But each spell has its own characteristics, and knowing them will help you greatly if you ever have to face a mage.” The ambassador’s fingers flashed, and from his spatial ring he produced a thick, well-worn notebook, clearly many years old.

Kevin accepted it with both hands, cradling it to his chest. Jack, standing nearby, was visibly envious—he was a fully qualified mage, yet had not received such favor.

The ambassador added, “Some of these spells are very destructive; unless absolutely necessary, don’t show them to others. These are notes and experiences from my youth. It’s a pity there’s no time now, or I’d be glad to explain some of them to you.”

Kevin was deeply grateful, almost at a loss for words. He was only a new recruit, after all—of such low status that he’d never dared dream of such a favor.

The ambassador smiled. “You have a way with words. After you retire, you might consider working for the Foreign Ministry.”

Kevin nodded repeatedly. “I will think about it.”

“If you decide to join, I’ll recommend you strongly,” the ambassador said with a smile, clapping Kevin on the shoulder. “Go now. Try to make it home before nightfall.”

The group took their leave of the ambassador. With him present, there was no trouble at the city gates. They hired a carriage and began their journey home.

On the road, the coachman remarked casually, “Laubauler has imposed martial law recently—are you sure you can get in?”

“We can,” Jack replied.

“Oh?” The coachman asked, “Are you traveling for pleasure? There’s not much to see in Laubauler, really.”

“How so?” Kevin humored him.

“It’s a dangerous place!” the coachman said. “People aren’t even allowed to carry weapons, so if you get in trouble, there’s nothing you can do but stand there like an idiot.”

Everyone: “…”

“And there’s no freedom, it’s poor,” the coachman shook his head, “and the people are all ugly.”

Everyone: “…”

After a moment of silence, Little Spoon couldn’t help but ask, “Who do you think we are?”

“You?” The coachman chuckled. “Aren’t you some noble from our country? I saw a high official escorting you out.”

“We’re commoners from Laubauler,” Little Spoon replied.

The coachman turned to stare at them, face full of disbelief, while the group quietly enjoyed his reaction.

From a certain perspective, Kevin and Jack were no longer really commoners—they were soldiers. Little Spoon was a count’s daughter, Little Nine was a nun. If a “commoner” meant a farmer, then none of them fit; but if it meant someone without a title, then they all qualified. The former was the assumption of many, the latter the strict official definition—leaving plenty of room for argument.

In any case, their clothing was not extravagant—perfectly within a Laubauler commoner’s means, though unaffordable for most in Laibozi’er. Claiming “we are all commoners from Laubauler” was legally correct. Whether it would change the coachman’s mind was anyone’s guess. Even if he understood now, he’d probably be swayed again by a bard in some Laibozi’er tavern.

Suddenly, a scream: “Ah! Ah!” The coachman shrieked, and the carriage lurched out of control, the horse bolting as if mad.

Startled, Little Spoon and Little Nine leapt from the carriage in an instant. Jack raised his hand and unleashed a wind blade, severing the harness between horse and carriage. The carriage overturned, and Kevin and Jack rolled out.

Before they could get their bearings, a flash of cold steel came at them. Kevin instinctively raised a magic shield, which was swiftly shattered, but it gave him enough time to get to his feet and assess the threat.

Before them stood a squad of black-clad assailants, armed with swords and shields. Little Spoon and Little Nine stood back-to-back, weapons swirling in a dance of steel.

But this time, the attackers were clearly not ordinary. Twice Little Spoon’s battle energy attacks were blocked. The assailants may not have been individually strong, but their equipment was top-notch. They formed a shield wall, not attacking, just wearing her down. Little Spoon’s telescoping spear was suited to assassination, agile but not built for prolonged melee, especially against many foes. Its flexibility compromised its strength; under sustained strain, it could jam or break. Little Nine’s weapon, a barbed whip coated in poison, was deadly against lightly clothed opponents—but these assailants wore inner armor, rendering it ineffective.

“Hey! Look at the moving pictures!” Little Nine called, brandishing her notebook.

The black-clad men all lowered their heads, not daring to look. Clearly, they had done their homework; they were not mere bandits. Of those with a grudge against Kevin’s group, only the city lord came to mind. The ambassador had warned them to return home before dark, but they hadn’t expected the assassins to be dispatched so soon.

Jack cast a whirlwind spell, stirring up a cloud of dust and sand. In the resulting chaos, neither friend nor foe could see a thing. The black-clad assailants hesitated, but they had the group surrounded—killing them was only a matter of time.

Kevin was anxious, but blinded by the whirl of sand, all he could do was choke on grit in frustration.

Suddenly, he heard a series of powerful whooshes, followed by dull thuds—bodies hitting the ground, not even time for a scream. Kevin and Jack realized that help had arrived, and fought their way out of the whirlwind, only to find the ground littered with corpses, the assassins’ heads blasted apart, blood everywhere.

Little Spoon and Little Nine, now soaked in gore, stood nearby. Kevin and Jack, shielded by the whirlwind, were only covered in dust.

“What happened?” Kevin asked urgently.

Little Spoon wiped blood from her face. “Look over there—my father’s here.”

Kevin spun around to see, in the distance, yet another black-clad figure walking toward them, hands empty, but with an unmistakable air of authority—clearly no ordinary man.

Little Spoon and Little Nine stepped forward and bowed slightly. “President.”

President? Kevin’s heart skipped a beat, recalling his own jest about the Assassin President eating dung. The man looked him over, and Kevin instinctively bowed his head, not daring to meet his gaze.