As Hermes entered the room, the heavy oak doors groaning behind him, every council member shifted in their seat. A wave of silent, stiff-necked hostility washed over him as they glared from their elevated positions.
Chief Zamor, who sat at the center of the crescent table, rested his muscular arms on the polished surface. He leaned forward, the flickering torchlight catching the hard lines of his face, and sent the guards a sharp hand signal to release the suspect's arms.
"Take a seat, Suspect 025," said Chief Zamor, his forehead knitting into a map of deep, distrustful creases. He gestured toward a solitary black chair positioned directly in the center of the floor.
"Well, thank you, Chief," Hermes answered willfully. He moved with a deliberate, slow grace, settling into the chair. Once seated, he stretched his arms over his head, leaning back to massage his stiff shoulders with a casualness that made several council members bristle.
"Suspect 025, I know you are still young and perhaps novice to the gravity of a formal tribunal," Chief Zamor began, his voice attempting a tone of sincere authority. "However, there are certain rules of decorum that must be followed. Kindly remove your mask."
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Hermes humbly declined, his voice muffled but firm behind the iron.
The Chief's forehead creased even deeper at the refusal.
"Suspect 025, we are governed by law here. Only standard clothing and essential accessories are permitted. Your mask is an obstruction; it hinders our objective in this forum," Chief Zamor explained, his patience already fraying.
"Then I officially declare this mask as a vital piece of my clothing and a personal accessory," Hermes responded blatantly.
"You have no right to refuse, Suspect 025! You are obliged to follow my demand whether you like it or not. Take it off," Chief Zamor affirmed, his voice rising in a controlled roar.
"I don't mean to disrespect the position you hold, Chief. I know the law," Hermes answered, his expression brittle. "But your request is legally impossible. Under the Civil Code, a suspect has the right to declare any tangible object as a personal accessory. Since it isn't a weapon—no knife, no ax, no saw—the right to refuse remains with me. Am I wrong?"
The atmosphere in the room froze. For a few long minutes, the only sound was the crackle of the hearth. Everyone waited for the leader to speak.
"Suspect 025, you are starting to disrespect not only me but the law itself," Chief Zamor demanded. "In this room, I am the law. Respect it, and take that useless thing off."
"I'm sorry. But I cannot," Hermes sighed.
"Guards! Remove that goddamn thing from the goddamn criminal right now!" Chief Zamor barked, pointing a trembling finger.
"Hays. I warned you," Hermes snorted. "You'll regret this."
As the guards' hands touched the metal property, they didn't pull it off. Instead, they collapsed instantly, dropping like logs onto the stone floor. The double impact echoed through the chamber.
Bewilderment gripped the room, save for Hermes and the High Priestess.
"W-w-what happened?" asked Chief Zamor, his face turning a ghostly pale.
"I told you. You'd regret it," Hermes said. "Let's call this a short demonstration of side effects. The mask contains an antigen that stops the spread of a virus inside my body. Now you know, people. I don't mean to scare you, so calm down. But perhaps, Honorable Chief, you will listen now. If you care about the safety of these innocent people, I advise you to rethink your commands. Every action comes with a risk."
Touch this psychopath little girl and you'll pay with your life, Hermes thought, referring to the slime tucked under his chin.
"A-are they alive?" Chief Zamor stammered.
"Rest assured, they're fine. Look, they're waking up," Hermes pointed with his jaw.
"Men, step away from the defendant!" Chief Zamor instructed, wiping cold sweat from his brow. "He needs... space."
"Yes, sir," the guards muttered, retreating two meters behind Hermes.
"Gosh, this is tiring," Chief Zamor muttered, rubbing his temples. "Fine. Keep the mask. Ilona, hand over the documents."
Ilona moved with professional efficiency, handing silver folders to the council.
"The folder contains photographic evidence and a twenty-page summary of the criminal activity," Ilona instructed. "You have thirty minutes to analyze the content. Take your time."
For thirty-one minutes, the room was silent but for the turning of pages. Finally, Chief Zamor slammed his gavel, signaling the end of the review.
To his right sat Richarde, Daliah, Ylla, Venus, and Rafel. To his left sat the Elders—Kilo, Wamo, and Damaso.
"Good evening, everyone," said Chief Zamor, his eyes settling on the suspect with a disdainful gaze. "This is our... Invictus event. A gift from the mighty God to finally bring justice to Neue Fiona."
This old man is boiling inside, Hermes noted.
"People, witness the true identity of our public enemy! The madman who has tormented us for five years!" Chief Zamor added, clenching his fists.
The high elves really played him, Hermes thought. This Chief has forgotten his debts because of a hatred they fed him. Disappointing. He's a disposable character.
"Listen carefully. This relic will show the truth of his answers. Ilona, start the tape," Chief Zamor instructed.
Elder Kilo's face went stiff with disapproval. Wrong move, Chief, he thought. Chief Zamor was a man of ego; he wanted a public show of his power. He wanted to prove that he, Chief Zamor Camelia, was the boss now—and that the boy who allegedly kidnapped his daughter would finally pay.
However, as the recording played, there was no confession. No anger. No slip-ups.
Chief Zamor looked disappointed, while Elder Kilo covered his face in shame. Ilona stood frozen. Useless people, she thought.
"Ilona... throw this thing out," Chief Zamor whispered, barely holding his temper.
The air in the room remained cold, but the tension was heating up.
"I still have another trump card, kid," Chief Zamor muttered, eyeing a second relic hidden under his desk. "Sir Aljen... before we discuss the case, do you have anything you wish to say?"
"None, Chief," Hermes shook his head.
"Are you sure? We've had a good time together," Chief Zamor insisted.
"Yes."
"I want to hear your defense, Suspect 025. Defend yourself!"
Hermes remained silent, casting a glance toward the ladies in the corner. Venus caught his eye and signaled toward the hidden object under the Chief's table.
I understand, Hermes signaled back.
"Suspect 025, speak!" Chief Zamor demanded. "Are you Hermes Archnemesis or not? Confess!"
"I am not," Hermes responded politely. "I am innocent. That's all, Chief."
Every eye in the chamber darted toward the Chief's table as he reached into a concealed drawer. With a trembling hand, Zamor activated a second relic—a pristine white orb known for its high-fidelity truth-seeking properties. The room fell into a deafening silence as they waited for a chime, a flash, or even a low hum to betray the suspect's lie.
But like the first device, the white relic remained stubbornly mute. No sound crossed into their ears.
W-w-what? Is he truly not Hermes Archnemesis? Chief Zamor's face turned a sickly shade of blue. He stared at the silent orb as if it had personally betrayed him.
This is bad. What a mad lad, Elder Damaso thought, clicking his tongue quietly. The situation is going south. This jury is useless if they can't break his silence. Beside him, his two brothers sat with eyes wide, their carefully laid trap springing a leak. Behind the Chief, Ilona was screaming internally. Fuckin' useless prick! Do something about it!
In the corner, the mood was the polar opposite. Praise the Lord. Hallelujah, the ladies cheered silently, their faces masks of professional neutrality while their hearts raced. Rafel, however, remained analytical. The Chief is in a critical spot. What can he do now?
Hermes, feeling the weight of the interrogation lift slightly, heaved a quiet sigh of relief.
"I'm hungry," Richarde muttered under his breath, his stomach choosing the worst possible moment to growl.
"Quiet!" Daliah hissed, jabbing her elbow sharply into his ribs.
"Wow, these human scum are really trying to humiliate you, Master," the slime's voice bubbled in Hermes's mind. "Everything he says is disrespectful, yet the results say otherwise. As expected, this guy is useless against your skepticism."
"Shut it, slime," Hermes ordered in a subvocal growl.
"Sir Aljen," Chief Zamor began again, his voice cracking slightly before he regained his bluster. "You are allegedly involved in the criminal organization known as the Second Root. One of our sources has provided a mountain of evidence linking you to this guild. While these are allegations, we must examine the ledger of your sins."
He held up a thick file, and on cue, every council member flipped their documents to the same page.
"The records link you to every major criminal charge over the last five years," Zamor continued, his confidence returning as he read the list. "Innocent deaths, obstruction of order, arson, kidnapping, robbery, extortion, and treason against the local government. You are the architect of our misery."
"Eeeh... I don't think any of that is true," Hermes said, his forehead creasing in mock confusion.
"Your denial only reinforces our belief!" Zamor shouted, standing up. "Look at the records, people! He's been connected all this time. I applaud the heroes who uncovered this truth; they are a shining example to the public. Therefore, after a split decision between the investigators and myself, Suspect 025 is proven guilty of all charges."
Zamor picked up the heavy iron gavel, hovering it over the sounding block. "Despite the lack of reaction from the relics, I, Zamor Camelia, and my district representatives, sentence you..."
The air in the room seemed to vanish.
"...to death. You shall be executed by hanging in front of the public tomorrow at dawn!"
As the gavel swung down to seal the fate of the "Don," a voice rang out like a silver bell, cutting through the tension.
"Objection, Your Honor!"
Zamor froze, the gavel inches from the wood. "Who dares to interrupt my decision? Who exactly are you? Answer me or I'll have you removed from this court!"
"I, the High Priestess of the Neue Fiona Church, am demanding a secondary resolution."
Venus Aphrodite stood up. Her movement was slow, majestic, and utterly commanding. She walked toward the center of the room, positioning herself beside Hermes's chair like an armored Goddess shielding her ward with divine grace.
"I request the jury provide a proper explanation tonight," Venus declared, her voice steady and echoing. "Why are you sentencing a suspect without consulting our opinion? Why are you rushing a life-or-death decision so recklessly? In my view, this is a grave miscarriage of justice. You are condemning an innocent man."
"High Priestess, you must understand your place!" Elder Wamo barked, standing up and pointing a finger. "You are not allowed to interfere. The Council will not tolerate this. You have no authority to object to the decision of our leader!"
"I know my rights, Elder. And you would do well to watch your tone," Venus countered politely but with a chilling edge. "Everyone here has the right to speak when the law is being twisted."
The four district representatives looked on in shock. Zamor, caught between the Elders' fury and the Priestess's poise, bit his lip and lowered the gavel.
"Calm down, everyone," Zamor stuttered, his authority leaking away. "Elder Wamo, you are breaking the rules of the Council yourself. Please, sit. The High Priestess... she is right. She represents the Church, and her voice carries weight in this village. Furthermore, Elder Wamo, you are merely a guest and a source in this trial. You aren't even a voting member of the Council. Stand down."
Wamo's face turned purple. "I-is that so? My apologies, Your Honor," he spat, sitting back down and gritting his teeth. Fuckin' Church. This is biased as hell!
Damaso and Kilo placed hands on Wamo's shoulders to keep him from lunging across the table, while the Chief turned back to Venus.
"However," Zamor said, his brow sweating. "I didn't ask for an objection. Why does the Church feel the need to review evidence that is already so clear?"
"Your Honor, I do not wish to disrespect the laws of this village," Venus said, her hand resting lightly on the back of Hermes's chair. "But I cannot stand by and witness injustice. If I allow this, I could never face the Almighty again. Moreover, this will not just shame your administration—it will destroy it. You would be known forever as the man who executed the very hero who saved your own daughter from the hands of evil."
"High Priestess, are you suggesting that my judgment—the sentence of death for this criminal—is wrong?" Chief Zamor inquired, his gaze sharpening into a predatory glare.
"Yes, Your Honor," Venus replied. She lowered her head in a brief, practiced apology that held no real submission.
"And how exactly do you plan to prove his innocence?" Chief Zamor scowled, his grip tightening on the gavel.
"It has already been answered, Chief. Everyone in this room knows it as well," Venus said, spreading her arms wide. She cast a pointed, devastating glance at the white relic sitting silently on the table. The lack of a ring was a scream of "innocence" that the Chief was trying to ignore.
"Is there anyone else who desires a secondary resolution to this trial?" Chief Zamor asked, scanning the council members, hoping for a wall of support.
"I agree with Her Excellency. She is right, Chief," Rafel Uno said, raising his hand without hesitation.
"I agree as well," Richarde added, a small, confident smile playing on his lips.
Daliah and Ylla exchanged a quick, decisive glance before both raising their hands in a synchronized vote of approval for the Priestess's request.
Chief Zamor's face reddened. He felt the political ground shifting beneath his boots. "High Priestess, I respect your position in this village, but the review is done. I gave you time to read the files. We have rules here. If... if I simply decline your request, what can a mere Church representative actually do in this trial?" he ribbed, attempting to use his diplomatic weight to shove her back into her place.
Venus's expression went cold. The warmth of the "angelic priestess" vanished, replaced by the iron resolve of a high-ranking official. "As the representative of the Church, I will cut all ties with your local branch. I swear to God. No negotiations, no second chances. Choose your next words very wisely, Chief."
"Imbecile! Who do you think you are?" Elder Kilo barked, leaning over the table. "You're a representative, nothing more. The Ratican Church wouldn't dream of such a move. Only the Cardinals or the Pope have that authority!"
"Thank you for that information, Elder. You've made my explanation much simpler," Venus said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, melodic register. "I am not the Pope, nor a Cardinal. But I am the High Priestess, a blessed servant of the Almighty. I influence this land because God is at my side. And, with all due respect, I have the authority to dismantle this local government if I so wish."
She stepped closer to the crescent table, her shadow looming over the Elders. "Remember, Neue Fiona is still an unrecognized territory of Sicily by the Union of Italian Mafia States—the Mafia Council. I am the only recognized symbol of authority in this township. Watch your tone. Chief Zamor is not even a 'Made Man.' If I remove my blessing, you are all nothing but ordinary citizens standing in a lawless field."
"H-huh? Please, calm down," Chief Zamor stammered, his bravado evaporating. "Isn't that... a threat?"
"According to the Mafia Civil Code, Article 10, Chapter 2, Paragraph 14," Venus stated with legal precision, "the Church has the right to intervene in unrecognized towns and lawless societies. A representative is liable to take action once a [Mendacium] proves a suspect's innocence. It is my decision to respect your local law or supersede it. Unless I am in imminent danger, my word is the final bridge to the Council's recognition."
"W-what? Since when was that law created?" Elder Wamo demanded.
"Seven hundred years ago," Venus responded politely.
"Shit... this is not good, brothers," Kilo muttered, leaning toward Damaso.
"We can finish this tonight," Venus provoked, her face a mask of serene defiance. "It is a simple request for a fair review. You have nothing to lose... unless you choose the wrong side."
"I... I understand. I approve the request," Chief Zamor said, slamming the gavel down instantly to end the confrontation.
Venus? Is that really you, girl? Hermes thought, genuinely impressed. She's a shark in sheep's clothing.
"Objection, Chief! This is a farce!" Elder Wamo wailed. "Church and Village issues are separate entities! She shouldn't even be here!"
"Defend it or not, it's too late," Chief Zamor said, his voice heavy with defeat.
Fuckin' useless prick! the Elders and Ilona screamed in their minds.
"The State and Church are separate, yes," Venus justified, turning her gaze on Wamo. "Except where 'otherwise provided by law.' Article 17, Chapter 8, Paragraph 2: The Church shall defend any innocent who saved a representative from harm. The relic stayed silent, Elder. Stand down."
"Ridiculous! You're making this up because you have a deep affection for the suspect!" Wamo shouted.
"Article 17, Chapter 8, Paragraph 1," Venus countered, unfazed. "The representative is vowed to defend the innocent until the end of their life. I am allowed to act as the suspect's witness and acting attorney at will."
"High Priestess... you mean to be his lawyer?" Chief Zamor asked.
"I will be his attorney," Venus affirmed. "Your branch neglected to provide him with public counsel. You condemned him without following the Mafia Council's national standards. Therefore, I will do as I please."
"Are you even a licensed attorney?" Elder Damaso sneered.
"Yes. I passed the bar exam eight years ago, at the age of seven. Here is my license." Venus pulled a gold-embossed card from her sleeve.
"U-unbelievable! You're bluffing!"
"Lady Ylla, please show them the diploma and the certification photos," Venus instructed.
"With pleasure, Milady," Ylla replied, pulling the documents from a leather satchel.
"Please... stand down," Chief Zamor sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "Lady Venus, you don't have to prove anything else. I am convinced."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Venus performed a graceful curti, lifting her skirt slightly in a gesture of triumphant gratitude.
"The trial is paused for tonight," Chief Zamor announced, his voice tired. "The Council will take twenty-four hours to review the files personally. The next hearing is tomorrow at 6:00 PM. Does anyone object?"
"No," the room answered in a hollow unison.
"Case dismissed for tonight!" SLAM. The gavel echoed like a final breath.
"Thank you very much," Venus said, a small, triumphant smile—a simper—touching her lips.
Fuck! the Elders and Ilona cursed internally.
"Woah, this girl is cool! Date her, Master!" the slime cheered in Hermes's head. "If you don't like her, I can be her substitute! I'm a slime, I can grow up into an adult too!"
"Shut the fuck up. Don't you dare," Hermes muttered under his breath.
Venus leaned in close to Hermes, her lips brushing against his ear. The warmth of her breath tickled his neck. "Sir Aljen... did you like my performance?"
"Yes. Thank you for saving me," Hermes replied, bowing his head respectfully.
Venus tilted her head, her hand covering her mouth as she giggled. "Did I impress you? Are you slowly falling in love with me now?"
"Unfortunately, no. Sorry, but that's the truth," Hermes answered honestly.
CLING!
The [Mendacium] on the table let out a piercing, crystalline ring that echoed through the emptying chamber.
Shut the fuck up, you goddamn relic! Hermes raged internally. This really is a trial of injustice!