Chapter 140: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity (4) The impression I formed of the black man named Toussaint Bréda was not difficult to put into words.
Ah. This man is an extraordinary figure.
A great man—in other words, a hero.
After spending time around people like Napoleon Bonaparte, Marquis de Lafayette, Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès, and Maximilien Robespierre, I felt I had come to recognize a certain pattern. Truly remarkable people carried a distinct aura.
They showed an overwhelming difference in ability compared to ordinary people.
They risked everything and stepped forward to fight for others and for a greater cause.
They never bent their convictions, no matter what happened.
Oh, you're asking about Emmanuel de Grouchy?
There's no need to say more. I'll refrain from further explanation.
In any case, Toussaint Bréda felt like someone who belonged among those great men—those heroes.
Being shackled in chains in a distant land and calmly worrying not about himself but about the people who followed him—an ordinary person simply wouldn't behave like that.
And if someone had truly slaughtered four hundred innocent civilians, he would likely be a psychopath. Yet judging from the way he spoke and thought, he seemed closer to a saint than a criminal.
No matter how I considered it, he did not appear to be the kind of man capable of such atrocities.
The governor had painted Toussaint Bréda as a vicious criminal.
Yet after meeting the supposed criminal myself, he seemed less like a monster and more like a revolutionary chasing an ideal.
I stroked my chin and muttered,
"Is there some kind of misunderstanding… or was he simply acting extremely well in front of me?"
The guards approached, rubbing their hands nervously.
"Y-Your Excellency… have you finished your visit?"
Like majors being inspected by a division commander just before their promotion to lieutenant colonel, the guards looked as though their stomachs were twisting with anxiety.
In ancient times children feared disasters like tiger attacks, smallpox, and war.
In modern times they feared illicit videos.
But regardless of the era, the most terrifying disaster for civil servants seemed to be powerful officials who might—or might not—find fault with them.
With a polite service smile that conveyed I mean you no harm, I nodded.
"Haha. Thanks to you gentlemen, everything went smoothly."
"Phew…"
Hmm.
Seeing their expressions relax as if a stomachache had suddenly disappeared—should I feel pleased that my charming smile worked, or sad?
Since my early twenties I had often been treated like an intimidating department head. To ease this cold hierarchical atmosphere, I pulled a few paper slips from my wallet and placed them into the guards' hands.
"Y-Your Excellency… what is this?"
"They're meal vouchers from Isaac's People. It's almost lunchtime—surely you're all hungry."
"Th-thank you…"
"Here, the gentleman next to you should take one as well."
"Ah! Yes! Thank you, Your Excellency!"
"If you order a set with that voucher, they give you an extra loaf of bread. Make sure to order plenty, alright?"
"""Of course, Your Excellency!"""
Food truly was the best way to bring people together.
Ah, what a warm and pleasant atmosphere.
Everyone was smiling and chatting happily.
This must be how mothers feel when they want to feed everyone fresh bread.
I should put another "good boy" sticker on the internal scoreboard inside Guillaume de Toulon's mind.
Guided by the guards, I left the gloomy visiting room and stepped outside the courthouse, which had already become like a furnace under the midday summer sun.
Still, compared to the blazing inferno of summer in South Korea, this was bearable.
I pulled out my notebook and wrote down Toussaint Bréda's trial date in my crowded calendar.
Let's see…
The trial was in a week.
Maybe I could rearrange things and attend.
At that moment, a couple of people wearing velvet judicial robes hurried out of the courthouse.
Judges?
"Your Excellency! We should have come to greet you earlier. We sincerely apologize!"
"Oh, it's fine. Please don't worry about it. It's more burdensome when everyone scrambles to prepare something just because of me."
I waved my hand dismissively.
Whenever older men behaved like this, it made me feel less like a young man in his twenties and more like an intimidating department head.
"As expected of Your Excellency! If it wouldn't be presumptuous, would you join us for lunch?"
"I'm quite busy right now… but if there's another opportunity, I'd be glad to."
"Ah, if it's work, then it can't be helped! We're civil servants too—we understand completely!"
The middle-aged judge in velvet robes rubbed his hands together and nodded.
"Thank you for understanding. Next time I come to the Revolutionary Tribunal, I'll send word ahead."
"Yes, Your Excellency! Of course! Please travel safely!"
That man was remarkably polite.
Leaving the judges behind, I climbed into my carriage.
"Hmm. What a shame. I thought I might establish a connection with the Finance Minister this time."
The man in the judge's robe clicked his tongue regretfully and kicked a small stone on the ground.
"S-Senior Judge… isn't that asking for trouble? What if something goes wrong?"
A young judge who looked newly appointed spoke cautiously.
"Asking for trouble? Haha. You simply don't understand yet. Tell me, what do you think is most important for judges?"
"…Fairness?"
The older judge looked at the young man as if he were a whining five-year-old.
"Tsk. Did you graduate from the Sorbonne in Paris?"
"…Yes. I did."
The young judge nodded, confused.
The older judge clicked his tongue.
"That's the problem with you pampered Parisians. You think the world runs on morality."
"…."
"Sigh. Let me give you some advice, you poor fool. The most important thing for judges now is connections."
"Connections…?"
His law professors had taught him fairness and morality…
The young judge hesitated, recalling his teacher's face and then glancing at the senior judge.
"Yes! Connections! Networks! The higher-ups of the old High Court were all swept away, and the top seats are empty. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! If we latch onto the right connection, we could become Supreme Court justices!"
"Is that… so?"
"Of course! Just attach yourself to one of the four—Honoré Gabriel Riqueti, Count of Mirabeau, Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès, Maximilien Robespierre, or Guillaume de Toulon—and you're set!"
"I see…"
"Ah… such a pity! I should have at least struck up a conversation."
The older judge kicked another stone.
If he could impress even one of the four great figures of the revolutionary government, he might rise not just to senior judge but even to chief justice.
"By the way, what time is it?"
"Ah… a little past noon."
"Good. It's not too late yet. Come with me. I'll introduce you to a valuable connection."
"…Alright."
The older judge led the young judge into a luxurious restaurant near the courthouse.
"Listen carefully. I'm introducing you to an important connection today."
"And who might that be?"
"Haha. You'll see soon enough. If Minister Guillaume is our path to promotion, then this man is our source of money."
The young judge frowned slightly at words that contradicted everything his professors had taught him.
Soon a man wearing a military uniform adorned with glittering epaulettes approached their table and removed his hat.
"Good day, Your Honors! I am Governor Blanchelande of Saint-Domingue."
"Oh! Governor! It is an honor to meet the hero who captured that vicious terrorist!"
"Hahaha!"
"Ahahaha!"
The young judge couldn't take his eyes off the small box the governor handed to his senior.
"Defendant Toussaint Bréda, do you admit to the charge of massacring four hundred innocent citizens?"
"Your Honor, I swear before God that I have done no such thing."
"So you claim you are innocent?"
"That is correct."
"Very well. Prosecutor, proceed."
The middle-aged judge in velvet robes nodded and turned to the prosecution.
"Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Governor Blanchelande of Saint-Domingue and his secretary as witnesses."
"Very well."
The judge nodded readily.
Wait…
Wasn't Blanchelande the accuser?
Could the accuser testify as a witness?
The world of law truly was strange.
Wearing a uniform adorned with shining decorations, the governor stood and spoke.
"Your Honor, as Governor of Saint-Domingue, I testify that Toussaint Bréda slaughtered more than four hundred innocent white citizens and inflicted enormous economic losses upon the rightful territory of France!"
Afterward, the governor's secretary stood and waved a thick stack of documents.
"Your Honor, Prosecutor, ladies and gentlemen—do you know what this is? Evidence showing the enormous losses suffered by Saint-Domingue!"
Toussaint Bréda spoke firmly as he looked toward the judge and the audience.
"Your Honor! I resisted oppression under the revolutionary principle of the right of resistance! I have never violated the laws granted by God! Everything Governor Blanchelande says is a blatant lie! It was our black people who were massacred!"
Even as the audience jeered, Toussaint continued speaking.
"Is there no defense lawyer?"
"There's no conclusive evidence, but he's already branded a criminal. Who would dare defend him? They might be beaten to death by the citizens."
"…."
I fell silent at Florian's words, who had accompanied me to watch what he jokingly called an entertaining spectacle.
"I will deliver the verdict. Based on the evidence and testimonies, this court finds the defendant Toussaint Bréda guilty and hereby sentences him to death."
"I am innocent!"
"Defendant! Do not insult this court!"
"Even if you kill me here, the Tree of Liberty will spread its roots endlessly in Saint-Domingue!"
"If you have more to say, file an appeal!"
Despite Toussaint Bréda's furious cries, the judge struck the gavel three times and declared the session closed.
…Is this really right?
"A trial without a defense lawyer, and a conviction based only on testimony with no solid evidence. Are these people insane?"
"B-Boss, what's wrong?"
"No, the trial is completely fucked!"
What kind of trial was this?
It was a witch hunt.
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