"The one who commits a crime must be punished."
A simple axiom, so obvious that doubting it seems absurd. It is regarded as a sacred ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) act of justice, carried out according to the natural order of things.
But at its core, crime is an action. Punishment is an evaluation of that action. The phrase "this should never have happened" contradicts itself the moment the event becomes reality.
The same applies to vampires. It is crucial to distinguish between two things:
That which cannot happen and that which should not have happened.
"Let me ask one question. What was the defendant’s motive?"
Ain responded immediately:
"Revenge for my mother, Lily. As she herself stated."
"Revenge? Interesting. Do you remember the feeling of the wind when you were human, Harpy?"
I naturally addressed her by a name no one had ever taught me. Logically, that should have been impossible, but Harpiness assumed I had simply heard it somewhere before. A reasonable conclusion—who would ever suspect that I could read minds?
Harpy answered:
"That has nothing to do with this."
"Of course. After all, what does it matter what happened before one became a vampire? Those who have died and risen again through spilled blood have no need for memories of their past life, do they?"
I shrugged and continued:
"You claim that Lir, holding onto past grudges, attacked Ruskinia in pursuit of revenge... Is that really the case? But isn’t that giving Yeiling too much credit?"
"Lir is not Yeiling. She was categorized as such because she inherited Lily’s blood, but even Lord Ruskinia also shared his blood, so if we go by that logic—"
"Exactly! The fact that this whole twisted lineage even exists was because of Ruskinia’s will, wasn’t it?"
She had probably brought that up to argue her case, but I had been waiting for that very statement.
A verbal battle is not a fight between me and my opponent. The real fight is making my opponent battle themselves. You grab onto a contradiction, let them trip over their own words, and then use their own logic against them. One may fight an enemy, but they cannot fight themselves.
"Lord Ruskinia allowed Lir to attack him, to defy her master."
"Whether that aligned with Lir’s own will or was forced upon her, I don’t know. Either way, such a thing could never happen unless the Elder himself intended it. Am I wrong?"
"It is possible that Lir found some way to break free of the shackles."
"And what way would that be?"
"A way? That is for Lir herself to testify."
"No, that’s not how this works. Didn’t you just say earlier that presenting mere possibilities isn’t enough?"
Having caught her in her own contradiction, I pressed forward without mercy.
"Vampires have always operated under the ironclad hierarchy of the ‘shackles of blood,’ haven’t they? Lir’s case is an exception, and my argument is the most logical and rational explanation for it. Yet you claim that some unknown method of breaking free exists, but you cannot provide any proof of what it might be."
Even with my mocking tone, Harpy still refused to back down and countered:
"She wields a strange power. When it comes to preserving life, she surpasses even Lord Ruskinia. It is not unreasonable to assume that there are abilities we do not yet understand."
"An unknown power, something that no one else has ever seen before, used to commit a crime. That sounds like a classic case of ‘proving a devil’s existence,’ doesn’t it? Respected Judge, what do you think?"
If they stubbornly refused to listen, there was no winning. But this was a courtroom. And the judge—Tyrkanzyaka—was quite favorable to me. Even if I were being unreasonable, she would likely let it slide, but she would never dismiss a logically sound argument.
Tyr nodded in agreement and spoke:
"The defense’s argument is valid. Without Ruskinia’s implicit or explicit permission, it seems impossible that she could have attempted such a rebellion. Furthermore, there is substantial circumstantial evidence that Ruskinia himself intended for this to happen."
The other vampires agreed as well. Vampires may not always be purely rational beings, but their cold blood does not allow them to be swayed by mere sentiment. To them, Ain’s emotions were irrelevant.
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Seeing the situation turning against her, Harpy desperately cried out:
"Even a thrall does not always act in accordance with their master’s will! Just like me—if the master disappears or falls into slumber, the thrall can move freely! Therefore, Lir is not free from responsibility!"
"Then that means killing her is even more impossible. Not without the master’s command."
"Lord Ruskinia would never have ordered her to take his True Blood!"
Oh-ho. Nice move. She’s quick on her feet. She shifted the argument away from intent and onto the consequences.
"As the Lady Consort has said, perhaps it was Lord Ruskinia’s will. Or perhaps not. We cannot know for certain."
We? Well, I know.
"But regardless of intent, the one who currently possesses the True Blood is the defendant. That, in itself, is a crime."
"Exactly!"
"Then—!"
I spun around and looked up at Tyr. She seemed to have found this quite the entertaining spectacle, gazing at me with a subtle smile.
As the vampires saw it, this trial was never about right or wrong. Facts and logic were merely tools to persuade the Progenitor—because, in the end, all decisions rested in her hands, and no one could go against them.
Because of the shackles of blood.
"So, this trial isn’t about punishing the culprit for killing an Elder anymore, is it? The game has changed. This isn’t a trial to interrogate and condemn the one who killed Elder Ruskinia. It has now become a ruling on where the Progenitor’s True Blood should reside and how it should be handled."
And I am the Progenitor’s consort. If this turns into a matter of pillow talk, I win by default.
Realizing her loss, Harpy’s face twisted in frustration. It wasn’t a lie that a thrall without a master could find freedom. Just look at her now—doesn’t she look so free?
"Honored Judge, the focus of this trial seems to have changed. Instead of identifying and convicting the one who killed Elder Ruskinia, we are now discussing how to handle his death."
"And?"
"If the issue has shifted, then appropriate preparations are needed. I propose an adjournment."
It was a bit of a stretch, but the longer I stalled, the more the situation favored me. So, I pushed for it. But Tyr tilted her head in mild curiosity.
"A day? Would such a short break truly suffice?"
"...I don’t know if it’s short or not, but at the very least, it seems necessary."
"Hmm. If that is the case, then so be it."
After all, I was her consort, and Tyr had never hidden the fact that she was on my side. Nodding, she rose from her seat and declared:
"This trial was not convened to lay Elder Ruskinia’s grievances to rest. It was held to determine what transpired and how we should respond."
Vampires were sensitive to the death of their own kind, not because of any sentimentality, but simply because such an event was rare. The others nodded in agreement with the Progenitor’s words.
"However, listening to these arguments, I find merit in Hughes’ claim. It is clear that Ruskinia sought to rebel against the heavens, or at the very least, engaged in experiments akin to such an endeavor. He even sacrificed his own life in the process. If Ruskinia had a specific intention behind his actions, the surest course would be to ask him directly... but the dead do not speak."
The dead have no voice. That is why the living can only speculate about what they might have said and attempt to resolve their lingering regrets.
But vampires were once dead themselves. They had no interest in such sentimental stories.
"Thus, the matter at hand must now change. The question is whether Lir Nightingale is qualified. How the True Blood should be handled. We shall adjourn briefly and reconvene to deliberate further."
A declaration as cold as ice, but that was the nature of vampires. Honoring and mourning the dead was a human practice.
And right now, the only one struggling with their emotions was Harpy.
The once-proud feathers that had stood erect during the trial now hung limp, as if drenched in water. Looking far smaller than before—three, perhaps even four times as small—Harpy clenched her sharp fingers into fists and spoke:
"Progenitor... Are you abandoning us?"
"I have never abandoned you."
"Lir Nightingale is Yeiling. She carries the blood of Lord Ruskinia, has mingled with it, and is twisted by it. We, the Ain, cannot accept a Yeiling as our Elder."
This wasn’t just a refusal. If Yeiling were to become an Elder—if the tangled mess of lineage ended with Lir presiding over their True Blood—then just like her, the vampires themselves would be ejected from the shackles.
The Ain under Ruskinia had not wished for Lir’s death without reason. If she were to inherit the True Blood, then as her thralls and subordinates, the Ain would become an anomaly within this domain. Just like Lir Nightingale, who had been forcibly severed from the shackles by the will of her Elder, an entire bloodline would be cast out.
Observing the Ain trembling with unease, a thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps... Elder Ruskinia had foreseen this scene all along.
"That, too, is not for you to decide. It shall be discussed in this hall tomorrow. I will hear the testimonies of all involved before making my judgment."
Tyr’s ruling was absolute. No objections were permitted.
Harpy, consumed by despair, lowered her head and responded in a hushed voice:
"...As you command."
She had nothing left to say. That marked the end of today’s proceedings.
I took it upon myself to call it.
"Then, court is adjourned!"
Boom. With a heavy sound, the trial came to a halt.