Morning, Before Notre-Dame de Paris
The entire city knows today is the trial of the female vampire. The Inquisition has set up a trial platform in front of Notre-Dame, with chairs for commoners and nobles to observe seated.
Isaac and Anna arrived early, securing seats through Anna's Church connections. Anna, not wearing her witch hunter hat, draws male gazes with her red hair.
"Tomorrow, we save Countess Chanel?" D'Artagnan asks beside them.
"Yes," Isaac says dejectedly. As a nominal Chanel family member, legally her brother, he feels duty-bound to rescue his "sister."
"Your friend is a vampire?" D'Artagnan, suspecting since yesterday, asks.
"Yes," Anna replies, eyeing him warily, distrusting him.
A commotion erupts: "The vampire's coming!"
Sophia emerges slowly from Notre-Dame. Her ball gag has morphed into a rectangular leather mask encasing her mouth and cheeks, secured behind her head. The Church has evidently mastered the restraint's transformation function.
Her golden earrings remain, and her purple hair, though filthy from days of torture, was cleaned with a bucket of water Olivier provided, restoring her stunning beauty.
Under Olivier's care, she's been treated decently. She wears her Bloodwing as a trench coat, lending her dignity, paired with her favorite latex bodysuit, exposing her upper chest and collarbone. Her lower body, uncovered by the coat, sports her beloved knee-high heeled boots.
The leather mask, chosen by Olivier to match her coat's deep brown, enhances her regal appearance—a small gesture to preserve her dignity.
Her handcuffs and collar have fused into a yoke locking her hands level with her neck, resembling a surrender pose. The restraints' color has changed, showing the Church's control over them. Her fists clench, but her eyes above the mask radiate confidence and scorn for the crowd and escorting soldiers, striding forward fearlessly like a noble.
Two soldiers prod her with swords, and her ankle chains, extended to 30 cm, allow slightly easier movement.
Olivier, sword on his back, walks ahead like a knight serving a princess. Sophia, nearly 190 cm in heels, matches his height, sparking jealousy in Isaac from the spectator seats.
"Anna, why's that paladin escorting her?" Isaac grumbles.
"Jealous?" Anna smirks, glancing at his odd expression.
"No!" Isaac blushes, turning away.
A vegetable flies at Sophia. Olivier's Hrothgar sword flashes, deflecting it.
"Apologies, lady."
"Mmph." Sophia's eyes convey gratitude.
"Anna, why's he acting like she's not a prisoner?" Isaac complains.
"Jealous again?" Anna glares.
"No!" Isaac protests.
"Ha, you want him to strip and beat your princess?" Anna chuckles, turning to him.
"No!"
Anna squints, mimicking Sophia: "Little Zack's so dishonest."
"I said no!"
"Do you like the vampire?" Anna presses.
"N-No!" Isaac's face reddens.
"No, my ass! I'm done with you!" Anna, noting his hesitation, turns away, fuming.
"What'd I say wrong?" Isaac scratches his head, confused.
Anna ignores him as Sophia reaches the defendant's stand, Olivier beside her.
Four archbishops enter the tribunal. Unlike secular courts, the Inquisition's prosecutor, jury, and judge are one entity—the tribunal, advised by clergy and witch hunters acting as counsel or prosecutors.
With plaintiff, jury, and judge as one, fairness is questionable. The plaintiff needn't convince the judge—they're the same. The judge needn't justify convictions to the jury—they're one. Sophia starts at a disadvantage.
A 180 cm witch hunter, Bernard, stands at the advisory stand. His dusty, old-fashioned high hat sits atop a wrinkled face, his eyes blinded by an X-shaped scar. A six-pointed star within a circle is carved above it, his face clean-shaven.
"Why Bernard?" Anna mutters, displeased.
"What's wrong?" Isaac asks.
"You don't know," D'Artagnan interjects. "Bernard's a notorious witch hunter. He massacred Rulsenburg's village because two kids' game resembled demon summoning."
"He's close to Clement," Anna adds. "He's infamous for torturing werewolves. I've seen his chamber—mindless beast wolves showed fear."
"Beast wolves?" Isaac asks.
"Like vampire ranks, werewolves have beast wolves, human wolves, moon wolves, and alpha wolves. Human wolves, most common, transform and lose reason at full moons," Anna explains.
"Beast wolves?"
"Wild werewolves, fully mindless, never human again or born as wolves. Lowly, like animals."
"Moon wolves transform at will, some retaining reason. Alpha wolves, rare like royal vampires, are brutal and cunning."
"So he tortured mindless beasts into fear? Sophia's in danger—" Isaac panics.
"Danger, my ass! Always your princess!" Anna snaps. "She's not in his hands yet, so don't worry."
"Silence!" Archbishop Pierre, rightmost on the tribunal, bangs his gavel, quieting the crowd.
"Remove the defendant's gag. If she disrespects the court, re-gag her."
Olivier unlocks Sophia's gag.
"You won't remove my yoke?" Sophia says coldly.
"Ungagging you is mercy enough," second-right Archbishop Castet retorts, suggesting he fought hard for her to speak.
"We hereby judge the vampire on these charges:
1.Evil
2.Murder
3.Using black magic
4.Seducing humans
5.Blasphemy
Chief advisory witch hunter Bernard, do you swear loyalty to God and justice?"
"I, Bernard Pitt, swear my words are true, serving God's holy cause to protect humanity," Bernard rasps.
The four archbishops swear: "We of the tribunal swear our words true, acting not for gain but God's will, to His glory."
Pierre glances at Sophia, expecting no integrity from a "foul" vampire, offering no chance to swear.
But Sophia, anticipating this, declares: "I, Silandria's Princess, Sophia Dracul Tepes Sarah von Dominatrix, swear my words here are true, by my Dominatrix name."
Everyone except Isaac, Anna, Castet, and Olivier gasps. The crowd, seated and standing, buzzes.
"Mister Isaac, you captured Silandria's Countess Dominatrix?" D'Artagnan whispers, incredulous.
"No big deal," Isaac says, scratching his head.
Pierre is shocked a vampire swears, suspecting deceit but respecting her honor.
Sophia's tactic—swearing alongside hunters and bishops—lends her words tenfold weight, as sworn testimony outranks unsworn.
"Quiet!" Pierre bangs his gavel, quelling the "Dominatrix" uproar.
"Witch hunter Bernard, address the first charge."
Bernard's eerie voice intones: "Vampires are inherently evil, feeding on human blood, symbols of darkness. The tribunal will judge her."
"Countess Dominatrix, do you plead guilty?"
"This countess won't plead guilty to my nature."
"Then holy torture will make you confess." Everyone knows vampire trials mean conviction or forced confession.
Pierre, experienced in such "trials," prepares to end it.
"Wait," Castet interrupts. "Let's hear why she won't plead guilty."
With the crowd watching, seeking reasons for conviction, Pierre yields to Castet.
Sophia seizes the chance: "Vampires feed on blood by nature, as humans love wealth. Do humans confess for loving wealth?"
"Greed is a sin," third-ranking Archbishop Mopp retorts.
"But greed isn't judged," Sophia counters boldly.
"Bloodsucking harms humans, unlike greed," the fourth archbishop says.
"Let my victims step forward."
When torture was proposed, Sophia should've lost. But Castet's call to hear her drew all into a logical debate.
"You brazen demoness, claiming you've never fed?" Mopp fumes.
Sophia avoids the trap. Answering "yes" admits lying; "no" admits feeding, warranting death.
"Let anyone here, pure of soul, convict me," she says coldly.
Olivier admires her. The Church holds none are perfect but God. Scriptures forbid judging others' flaws unless flawless oneself—an impossibility.
Castet nods approvingly.
The tribunal could convict her for feeding, but with no victims testifying, they can't.
They could argue further, but Sophia's scriptural citation stymies them.
Bernard rages—his first time facing a vampire citing divine will.
"Foul woman! Even if we can't prove feeding, your dark origin marks you evil!"
"Per Goulens' Religious Code, Article 3, none can be convicted of evil without evidence. I ask again: beyond my nature, what proof of my evil?" Sophia, yoked, remains composed.
A vampire reciting religious and scriptural law fluently stumps the tribunal and Bernard. The bishops confer, Bernard fuming.
Sophia, arms yoked, stands poised.
"We set aside the first charge for now, moving to the second: murder," Pierre announces.
"Who did I murder?" Sophia asks.
"Bring the witness."
A soldier, a deserter from the vampire-hunting army, steps forward.
"Did the vampire kill your army, witch hunter Garth, and Master Gale?" Bernard asks.
"Yes, I saw her kill three comrades and bisect Garth with a whip."
"It was self-defense. What crime is that?" Sophia spreads her yoked arms.
"Attacking an army isn't self-defense; it's an attack on Goulens. Resisting, even if attacked, defies cooperation, making you an enemy of Goulens," Bernard counters.
"Per Paris customary law, attacking an army falls under the king's court, not the Inquisition," Sophia retorts.
The bishops confer again. They aimed to convict her for murder, but her self-defense claim holds. Resisting an army or lord's soldiers, who represent the king, isn't self-defense but rebellion. As a "foreigner," Sophia's non-cooperation could be seen as attacking the king.
Yet, she turns this against them—it's the king's jurisdiction, not the Church's, as the Inquisition judges divine violations, not secular disputes.
"We set aside the second charge, moving to the third: using forbidden black magic," Mopp says, visibly despising Sophia.
"Evidence?" Sophia asks. Tortured daily by Ding Yangchun, she hasn't used magic. Did they trace her past in Silandria?
Mopp sneers, clapping. A mage apprentice presents a parchment to Bernard.
Blind Bernard raises it, displaying six spell marks: undead curse.
"You cast this?" Bernard smirks, his pupil-less eyes on Sophia.
"I did," Sophia admits.
"She confesses!" Bernard grins.
"Wait, Archbishop Castet, may I address my motive?" Sophia asks.
Motive is central to Church trials. Scriptures say a good person's acts, even killing, have just cause—saving others, self-defense, or righteous vengeance. An evil person's good deeds may hide darker motives.
"Why?" Castet asks. "Black magic is forbidden by Church law, no exceptions."
"Do the tribunal know why black magic is banned?"
"You insolent demoness!" Mopp snaps.
"Silence, or you'll be convicted," Pierre warns.
"Wait, I want to hear if she justifies it by divine will!" Olivier kneels, pleading. He's awed by Sophia's fluent responses despite her yoke, memorizing scriptures and Goulens' laws he can't match. To him, she's a near-divine figure.
Isaac fumes at this.
Anna, seeing Isaac's anger, snaps, "What, you want her burned? I don't mind."
"No!"
"Then why so mad?"
"I'm not!"
"Little Zack's lying!" Anna mimics Sophia.
Castet refocuses them: "Fine, since Olivier requests, let's hear her. If she spews heresy, regag her!"
Sophia, struggling to turn her yoked neck, nods gratefully at Castet.
"Black magic was created for evil purposes, hence its ban. It's not the magic but its evil use that's forbidden. Death's Finger is banned for killing. The undead curse turns living into undead, blaspheming life, unforgivable by the Church."
The bishops exchange glances. She's right—centuries ago, the Church banned black magic for these reasons, known only to high-ranking clergy. Most blindly follow the ban, ignorant of its origin.
"You know much about the Church. Why defend yourself?" the fourth bishop asks.
"I plead guilty," Sophia says, shocking everyone by not denying it.
"Guilty!"
"I admit to maliciously tormenting others. Per Paris Church law, I face fifty lashes," she says.
"What?" the fourth bishop asks, confused.
"About twenty days ago, eight bandits captured me outside Windleaf Town, intending to rape me," Sophia continues.
She no longer cares about admitting such humiliations. Compared to her current plight and Clement's lingering threat, dignity is trivial.
Isaac's heart sinks. She was in real danger that night, not playing? I didn't know… How much has she suffered? I'm a failure as her knight…
"Is that why you used black magic?" Pierre asks.
"No, in desperation, I needed a spell to torment them!"
"So you used black magic?"
"It was the best spell I could think of. Would Archbishop Pierre punish a woman for a desperate choice to avenge an attempted rape?"
Sophia omits that she had other ways to torment them. The undead curse was simply the easiest. She didn't think, casting six curses.
She conceals part of the truth, but silence isn't lying.
Her honesty about the danger shifts the narrative. Before Ding Yangchun's torment, she'd never admit to near-rape, as it would tarnish Silandria's Impaler and the Dominatrix name. Now, she knows what to sacrifice for results.
The crowd murmurs. Castet's goal—public trial to boost Church confidence—works. Sophia convinces the crowd her curses were to punish bandits, not blaspheme life, avoiding execution.
"Any witnesses or evidence?" Pierre asks.
"Yes, Mister Isaac!" Sophia calls.
"Me?" Isaac blinks.
"The hero who captured you?" Pierre asks.
"Yes, he's here!" Sophia, despite mercury in her ears, spotted Isaac with her vampire vision, noting his adorable blushing. If not yoked and in a serious setting, she'd laugh.
"Mister Isaac, come forward if present," Castet aids her.
Isaac rises, approaching the tribunal.
"Do you swear your words are true?"
"I, Isaac Chanel, swear my words are true."
"Was Countess Dominatrix abducted by bandits that night?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I was her sole escort. At Windleaf Town, bandits broke in. Outnumbered, I couldn't stop them. They took her."
"Was she in danger, forced to use the undead curse to torment, not blaspheme or create undead?"
"I believe her. That night, a magical explosion occurred. The next day, I found her near the site. If not in danger, she could've escaped."
Well done, Little Zack, perfect without overstepping or lying, Sophia thinks, delighted.
"You may return."
Isaac returns to the spectator seats, drawing admiring female gazes.
Mopp, the fourth bishop, and Bernard scowl, while Pierre and Castet confer. Pierre declares: "The vampire admits a non-trial sin: tormenting others. For six undead curses, she faces fifty lashes times six—three hundred."
"And public naked parading to shame her, ensuring she won't repeat it," Mopp adds.
"What? Why parading?" Isaac protests.
"It's the tribunal's decision," Castet says, signaling he's done all he can.
"Fine," Sophia agrees weakly, better than worse outcomes.
Isaac fumes: "How can they!"
The crowd cheers at the prospect of parading a beauty like Sophia.
"Heartbroken?" Anna teases Isaac.
"No!" he blushes.
"Good!" Anna smirks, patting his head like a pet. "I'm thrilled!"
"Next, the fourth charge: seducing humans!" Mopp, seemingly vengeful, accuses.
"Ridiculous! If I seduced Isaac, why would he bring me here?" Sophia retorts.
"Let's call Mister Isaac again!" Mopp sneers.
"Me again?" Isaac, confused, walks forward, drawing more admiring female glances.
"Mister Isaac, you planned to escort the vampire to Lyonis for the army, correct?"
"Yes."
"Why did you join a Chitalia-bound caravan?"
"What?" Isaac doesn't see the issue.
Sophia senses a trap but can't interrupt.
"Did you travel to Chitalia with her?"
"This…"
"Yes," Sophia interjects. If Isaac denies, he risks contempt of court and punishment.
"Not her turn to speak! Mister Olivier, regag her!" Mopp orders.
"What? You—" Sophia's gag morphs back into a ball, stuffed in by Olivier. "Sorry, lady." Her yoked hands can't resist.
"Mmph!" She glares at Olivier, then at Mopp's smug face.
"Why go to Chitalia with her?"
No one knows they sought the universal key. Isaac can't admit it, or their relationship would be exposed.
"This idiot's screwed!" Anna, experienced in trials, mutters, realizing the danger.
Luckily, Mopp, unaware of their purpose, bails Isaac out: "See, he doesn't know why."
Isaac decides to stay silent.
"Idiot!" Anna slaps her thigh.
"What's wrong?" D'Artagnan whispers, ensuring privacy.
"He just admitted she seduced him! Why else wouldn't he know?" Anna glances at D'Artagnan, suspecting he's the spy, and stops talking.
"Clearly, Isaac was seduced!" Mopp declares.
"What?" Isaac wants to protest, but Sophia shakes her head: "Mmph, mmph!"
"Remove her gag. Let's hear her," Castet intervenes.
Olivier frees the gag. Sophia snaps: "Isaac's ignorance doesn't prove I seduced him!"
"We have more witnesses!" Mopp claps, and three women step forward.