Chương 45: Conjuring

Behind the witness stand, Rowena seemed nothing like the immovable mountain she'd been during the duel. Her head was lowered, her gaze averted, and her shoulders slumped. Clara glanced at the gallery, sensing a mix of curiosity and hostility. At the von Rhenia side, at least as far as Iris and Conrad went, there was definitely more of the latter. Iris… Clara shook her head. First things first. Warren had painted Rowena as a spiteful loser, but that didn't quite match Clara's observations.

If anything, the rivalry between the two knights appeared to be founded on mutual respect.

"Dame Rowena, you mentioned that your match with Major Ricardo last Wednesday was your third duel with him. When were the other two?" Rowena blinked, as if she hadn't expected the question.

"The first was five years ago, during a joint training exercise between the Royal Guard and the ducal knights. The second was three years ago. At the Grand Tournament." Clara nodded slowly.

"That's quite a history. How would you describe your relationship with Major Ricardo?" Rowena lifted her head slightly.

"We trained together, when the opportunity arose. Ricardo was one of the few opponents who could push me. I liked him."

"After you lost, were you angry at him?"

"No." The answer was immediate.

"My frustration was with myself. I take pride in being the strongest knight. That's why I keep training."

"You later told Ricardo that you wanted revenge. What did you mean by that, then?"

"I always thought strength and magic power were the most important things for a knight. But with how Ricardo fought, maybe I was wrong. So I wanted to keep fighting him until I learned everything I could. Until I could defeat him again." Clara glanced at the gallery again. A few of the spectators who'd been scowling had shifted to something more neutral.

"Why is being the strongest knight so important to you?"

"Fighting's the one thing I'm any good at, so that's what I do." Rowena looked over her shoulder, and the blessing pulsed, pulling another part of the answer that she hadn't mentioned.

"And there's the boy. Prince Ciarán. He's… People look down on him, treat him differently, but he's a good kid, I know he is. And if I'm the strongest knight and I'm by his side, then nobody gets to say a damn thing about him until they start seeing his worth." There was a tightness in Clara's chest. Ciarán had tears in his eyes, and Helena handed him a handkerchief.

"Thank you, Dame Rowena." Clara waited for a beat, letting the testimony breathe before shifting direction.

"Let's talk about Saturday evening. You were at the banquet at the Westwick Plaza. How did you come to be seated with Major Ricardo?"

"After I escorted the prince to the ball, I was going to go to the garrison to train. But on the way, I met Ricardo. He insisted I accompany him to the banquet. Said it wasn't good to train too much. So I joined him."

"I see. And how was the mood between you and Major Ricardo during the meal?"

"It was good. We talked about swordsmanship, drank, and ate. The food was delicious, and so was the stout."

"Would you say he was in good spirits? Did you see any signs at all that he looked down on you or thought badly of you?"

"He was a good winner. No gloating, not once. At the dinner he was smiling, laughing, drinking with the others. Looked like he didn't have a care. Can't fault him for it—he'd won his match, his liege's family was in town, and the stout was flowing."

"It sounds like you had a good relationship. Had Major Ricardo ever said anything negative to you before, anything at all similar to what he said later in your room?"

"Never."

"Did he say or do anything that suggested he intended to visit your room later?"

"No. Nothing at all." So far, so good. Clara had managed to nuance the motive Warren had attributed to the crime and raise doubts about why Ricardo acted the way he did. There was a pang of guilt at that thought. Not that I doubt Ricardo. I just know there has to be more to this.

"Dame Rowena, later that night, when Father Leofric took you to your room, did you notice anything unusual?" Rowena waited, and the golden light pulsed twice. Clara had learned to recognize that particular rhythm by now; it meant the Blessing was pulling at something buried. In this case, probably by the alcohol.

"No, my room was just as I'd left it."

"And what made you wake up?"

"The noise of my door being shut. And Ricardo's voice."

"And was there anything odd about your room when you woke up?"

"Hm." A moment's hesitation.

"No, aside from Ricardo's presence." That was disappointing. Clara was hoping there'd be at least something amiss, something that could be used to begin to unravel a greater mystery. Could it really be that there was nothing else here, and the case was as simple as it appeared? Warren, clearly, had come to the same conclusion—he was smirking even more than before.

"What about Ricardo himself? Was there anything strange about his bearing, or even his appearance?" Rowena closed her eyes while the Blessing pulsed. She furrowed her brow.

"He was the same as always. I suppose his eyes seemed emptier. He was wearing his uniform, I think—the same one he wore to the dinner." Oh? Ricardo had indeed been found with his uniform on, but that answer was still odd.

"You think? Dame Rowena, please detail Ricardo's outfit the moment you saw him in your room." If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"I…" She tried to raise her right hand, and the shackles rattled.

"It's blurry. I don't remember it perfectly. I know it was burgundy."

"How can you not remember? You are under the Blessing of Truth."

"Objection," intervened Warren.

"The Blessing is powerful, but it is no miracle. With the accused having been severely drunk, is it not natural that some parts of her vision would be blurry? The Blessing cannot find what the accused did not see in the first place." Is that really how it works? Clara glanced at Tobias, and there was an almost imperceptible downward tug at the corners of his mouth.

"If the prosecution is saying the Blessing can be compromised by alcohol, how can we trust anything that Dame Rowena has said so far, including her confession?" she asked. Warren brought his right hand down on his desk.

"We can trust the substance of her story. The details of the victim's uniform are irrelevant. What matters is that Dame Rowena clearly recalls driving the sword into his throat!" Clara turned back to Rowena.

"Dame Rowena. Is what the prosecution just said true? Do you remember that clearly, without any blurriness? You are sure it was Ricardo that you attacked?"

"I do. Even now, I can see his face, clear as day. I'm sure it was him." Clara put her hand on her chin as she paced. Could there have been some magic involved? Memory alterations, or some spell that compelled you to act, or even twisted your emotions against you? That could explain why Rowena and Ricardo acted the way they did. But who would have had the motivation to do so? And more importantly, how?

Clara had learned during her studies with Professor Morris that, because of the complexities with visualization, it wasn't really possible to cast magic from a long distance, or into places you could not see. Even the Blessing of Truth would dissipate if the distance between the caster and the target was too great. So if there were a third party using magic to cause this, they would need to be somewhere close by.

"Was there anyone else in the room? Father Leofric was there earlier. Did you see him leave?"

"It was just me and Ricardo. I fell asleep too quickly to see the priest leave, but I suppose he would have gone as soon as he helped me to bed." Right. That made sense. Clara herself had seen Leofric rejoin them at the banquet not long after leaving to help Rowena. It just wasn't possible that Leofric stayed upstairs the entire time from when Rowena fell asleep to when Ricardo went upstairs.

"Was the door open or closed?"

"Closed. Ricardo must have closed it when he came in."

"But you didn't see it being closed?"

"No, I suppose not. It was already closed when I woke up."

"And the window?"

"The window…" The Blessing pulsed.

"That was closed, too."

"Closed? But when I went to your room after Ricardo's death, it was open. How do you explain that?"

"I don't know."

"What does it matter?" asked Warren.

"Perhaps one of the von Rhenia guards opened it after they broke into the room. Nobody likes the smell of death." Clara wasn't ready to concede the point.

"Your Excellency, the defense requests confirmation as to whether any of Duke von Rhenia's men opened the window after entering the room. This is an important part of establishing the situation at the scene of the crime, one we cannot overlook."

"What say the prosecution?" asked the bishop. Warren glanced at the von Rhenia side of the gallery, and Duke von Rhenia gave a single, slow shake of his head, causing the prosecutor's smirk to falter. Clara pressed on.

"It would appear that nobody has claimed responsibility for opening that window. Which means it could have been opened by a third party at some point between Dame Rowena waking up and the door being broken open by Duke von Rhenia and his guards."

"That is hardly proof of a third party. It could have just been the wind," Warren countered.

"It would certainly be a far-fetched coincidence for the wind to push the window open in the small space of time after the end of the fight but before the guards entered the room."

"Then what are you suggesting, Counsel? Are we about to hear the details of some grand conspiracy that reveals the accused's innocence, conjured from nothing but an open window?" Clara frowned.

"I am suggesting that we don't have a complete understanding of the events that took place that evening. We still don't know why the major was in Dame Rowena's room, nor why he acted so uncharacteristically. And now we have a window, a potential avenue in and out of the room, whose status is unaccounted for."

"Ah, so you claim the true culprit simply flew in and out of the room, unseen, and delivered the killing blow on the victim just before the accused impaled his throat. Of course. Why did I not think of that? So much for far-fetched coincidences." The irony in Warren's tone was palpable.

"Can you truly rule out the possibility that magic was involved? That the victim was magically compelled to act as he did? Maybe even the accused herself—she could have had her mental state altered, or even her memories," said Clara. Warren crossed his arms.

"I should not have expected a servant to understand the nuances of spellcasting. The facts revealed by the Blessing of Truth are absolute, and no memory magic can withstand its scrutiny. As for some sort of magical compulsion or manipulation, that would leave rather glowing signs, as the Blessing of Truth does." Clara glanced at Rowena's chest. So the Blessing's glow is indicative of magical compulsion? I suppose that makes sense. He continued.

"In addition to that, exerting that sort of spell on an unwilling person would require piercing the target's innate field of magical resonance, a natural barrier against foreign magical energy projected subconsciously at all times—and yes, before you make that point, this includes when someone is asleep or passed out." Clara clicked her tongue. I was not going to argue that. Okay, I was definitely going to argue that. Touché.

"Both Sir Ricardo and Dame Rowena are powerful casters in their own right," said Warren, "meaning that their natural resonance fields would be even stronger than the average person's. In all the Kingdom, perhaps only Her Holiness wields enough power to pierce them directly. Unless you mean to say she was involved?" The bishop brought down his gavel several times. There were deep wrinkles in his forehead, and Clara had never seen him look quite so displeased.

"Counsel Casewell! How dare you accuse Her Holiness! It seems I have given you far too much le—" Clara lowered her head.

"My apologies, Your Excellency. I certainly did not mean to imply anything of the sort. Please excuse my lack of knowledge."

"Oh." His face softened immediately.

"Very well, then." Clara breathed. Crisis averted. So casting magic like that on someone would require 'piercing the innate field of magical resonance,' and it would leave visible signs of magical compulsion… I guess that's why the Blessing has to be drunk, as a way to bypass that field. I thought that was only a ceremonial thing. But still, 'only Her Holiness could wield such power'? Only a few weeks ago, Clara had seen someone else with extreme magical aptitude. She glanced at the blonde sitting next to Lochlann.

Could it be? Clara couldn't rule it out, but it would be irresponsible to accuse the girl with no evidence, especially when she was technically in Lochlann's employ. She didn't want another Vainglory situation. She cleared her throat.

"As I was saying, there are still too many gaps in the nuances of this case to give this court a complete picture of the truth."

"And how do you propose we paint that complete picture?" asked Warren.

"Not that I agree that the evidence is insufficient for conviction, mind you."

"We could start by hearing the testimony of one of the guards who broke into the room. They may have seen or heard something relevant. There is no harm in more information, Your Excellency. The Goddess's court deserves no less than the full truth." The bishop turned to Duke von Rhenia.

"Your Grace, what is your opinion on this? Would one of your guards be available to testify on this matter, to fulfill the defense's request?" It seemed even the bishop, as presiding judge, wasn't willing to make demands of a duke. That wasn't surprising, though Clara still felt it was another one of the many clear flaws of an aristocratic society. Sometimes, she remembered how Vainglory had been allowed to just walk out of the witness stand; just the thought of it still annoyed her.

It would all come down to the duke's decision here. Unlike Conrad and Iris, he hadn't publicly commented on Rowena's guilt. But that didn't really mean anything—Maximilian von Rhenia was someone who kept his cards close to his chest. The duke stood up. He looked at the bishop, then at Warren, and then his gaze settled on Clara, just as intense as always. He took a step forward.

"I was the one who called the guards, and I was the first to come into the room. There is no need to trouble my subordinates. If the court is in need of information, I ought to be the one to provide it."