“It was you who forced them to this point at knifepoint—now you stand here, grandstanding and shirking responsibility? Do you honestly think the murderer isn’t *you*, but the knife in your hand?”
“I…” The chief judge fell speechless. This strange armored figure spoke without heavy authority, wasn’t even his superior—but his presence pressed down so heavily the judge felt breathless, swallowing every word of defense waiting on his tongue.
“Who taught you to write contracts in such vague, slippery language to deceive the people?” *Slap!* Fate slammed the Led family’s contract onto the table. “How many times must it be said? Write plainly—words the common folk can understand! Who are you trying to fool with this word-twisting?”
“Don’t forget—the Inquisition Tribunal was founded *by* the common people. By bullying them now, aren’t you spitting on your own past?”
“What… turned you into this?”
“…” The chief judge opened his mouth. Nothing came out. A rebuttal should’ve been simple—yet somehow…
Under Fate’s impassioned, rapid-fire words, he dared not speak back. Strange as the accusations were, they carried unshakable conviction—as if he truly had the right to say them.
“Mas… Mr. Fate. I’ll handle the rest.” Sensing her master’s old instincts flaring, Nia rose gently.
“…” Fate blinked. *Right. I have no standing here anymore.* He sat back down, arms crossed, silent.
“Setting other matters aside, Chief Judge—you *will* reunite these families.” Nia’s voice carried quiet authority, honed beside the Empress. “Three years have passed. Those men who enlisted to support their families *should* be home.”
“But…”
“No ‘but.’ Unless you wish Her Majesty to hear of this.” A cool, faint smile touched Nia’s lips.
“I… I understand. I’ll do my best, Your Excellency…” The chief judge pressed his pale lips tight.
He feared trouble—but feared Nia far more. As the Empress’s personal guard, her report could cost him his post… or his life. Not worth it.
“But… have you considered—perhaps those soldiers earned glory and chose not to return? Then I truly can’t help.”
“Absurd.” Nia’s tone sharpened. “Chief Judge, are you insulting my intelligence? Men who enlisted *just* to afford medicine for their families—would they abandon wives and children for fame?”
“Does *your* logic convince *you*?”
“…I understand.” Realizing further delay would anger her, he yielded with a sigh.
Outside Bati City’s Inquisition Tribunal, Fate and Nia walked in grim silence. Both came from humble roots. Both hated seeing the powerless crushed.
They stopped at a quiet park.
“Don’t worry, Master. I’ll stay in Bati City a few more days to ensure this is resolved.”
“Mm.”
“…”
After a long pause, Fate spoke softly. “How is Beatrice these days?”
“Her Majesty thrives. Under her rule, all runs with quiet order.”
“Mm.” A slight nod. “Good.”
“…Master… why *did* you leave the Empire?” Nia finally asked.
“The Empire is at peace.” Fate offered no more. “With peace secured… what need was there for me?”
“And that brat Alins?”
“Alins—ah, *Lord* Alins—took over as Grand Chief Judge and Grand Knight Commander after you left. He leads the Empire’s Inquisition Tribunal now.” Nia corrected herself quickly.
“How’s he doing?”
“Gentle, approachable… deeply loved by the people.”
“And Hero Lota—my eldest disciple?”
“She chose to wander the world rather than take office.”
“Good. Seeing the world suits her.”
Fate nodded. No more questions.
Hearing his old comrades and students were well eased his mind. This incident—a minor illness, a corrupt local tribunal—was likely isolated. Just rotten luck: resurrected days ago, and already knee-deep in trouble.
The next morning, Fate found Led.
“Really?!” Led’s eyes widened with disbelief, then joy, then wary hope. “Mr. Fate… you’re not lying?”
“No lie. You’ll see your father soon.” Fate ruffled the boy’s hair. “Within a week. At most.”
“Yes! Thank you—*thank you!* When Dad comes home, our whole family will thank you forever!”
“Y-You promise?”
“I swear.”
“Thank you… *thank you*…” Led clung to Fate’s arm, shaking it happily. It had been so long—his father’s face was already fading from memory.
Back at the church, spotting the nun praying before the altar, Fate scratched his metal helmet sheepishly.
“Sorry… I might’ve skipped work a few days. Hope Sister won’t dock my pay?”
