Everyone wore an expression of shock.
Even though every spectator present was a noble.
Some seemed to forget their dignity entirely, unable to close their gaping mouths.
One of the counts’ lawyers finally raised his hand to ask a question.
“Then isn’t only our Brayden domain going to suffer a loss?”
It was an obvious question.
The disputed area was the side where the soil had been pushed over.
That was Count Brayden’s territory.
But I had already thought that far ahead.
“Of course that won’t do. Under the principle of equity, we will reclaim an equal area from the Titus domain as well.”
At once, Count Titus’s attorney shot to his feet.
“What law permits that?”
He had reason to bristle.
He’d thought at minimum they wouldn’t lose anything, and now part of their land was being carved off.
But I had firm grounds.
“According to the Imperial Land Act, land with an unclear owner becomes Imperial property. Please verify it.”
I flipped open the Imperial Code and fluttered the pages.
There really was a clause called the Imperial Land Act.
But it was a law from centuries ago, from the time the nation was founded.
In practice, it was all but obsolete now.
There were hardly any parcels with unclear ownership anymore.
How did I know?
Because the code kindly prints the enactment dates.
Who cares when it was made?
All that matters is whether it can be used.
I then brought up the principle of equity.
That too appeared in the Imperial Code.
“When the court must mediate a dispute between nobles, the principle of equity applies. Neither side should be left aggrieved.”
Put simply, it meant this:
As much as we take from them, we take from you.
Only if both lose equally is it fair.
Count Titus’s lawyer hurriedly rifled through the code.
Soon his face turned stricken.
Because the provisions really were there.
Watching this, Count Brayden burst out laughing.
Then he bowed respectfully toward me.
“Truly a wise judgment. In the end, it’s merely returning authority entrusted by His Imperial Majesty back to him, is it not? We should count it an honor.”
A perfect rhetorical roasting.
This left the Titus side with no room to wriggle.
If they objected now?
That would be tantamount to declaring enmity with the Emperor.
What madman would do that?
Count Titus had no choice but to bow his head.
“We accept.”
Wearing a satisfied smile, I left the courtroom.
But a chill of foreboding crept over me.
I traded on the Emperor again. Is that going to be okay?
Honestly, I wanted to restrain myself.
But the case had been idiotic.
No matter how I wracked my brains, I couldn’t reach a proper decision.
So what do you do?
You hand it to the person who can bear it.
Still, I did just increase the Imperial demesne. He’ll let this slide, right?
I decided to think as positively as possible.
It made my heart a little lighter.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Imperial Palace.
Karon, Emperor of the Enpher Empire, wore a crooked smile.
His eyes were razor-sharp, but his expression was playful.
“That boy invoked the honor of the Imperial House?”
Even his voice sounded like he was having the time of his life.
But the chief chamberlain, Adit, did not relax.
The Emperor’s temperament was that unpredictable.
How many times had he given execution orders with a smiling face?
He had shown restraint since establishing the court, but he was always a man who could overturn the table.
“He did not disparage it—he elevated its renown.”
“How?”
Emperor Karon didn’t even look at the report.
He meant: explain it yourself.
The chamberlain vividly recounted what had happened in court.
As if performing a play.
If he didn’t, a thunderous rebuke would fall.
“…And that is what happened.”
At last, the explanation ended.
The Emperor gazed past the chamberlain’s sweating shoulder.
The courtroom scene seemed to form in his mind’s eye.
Though the gaze was not directed at him, the chamberlain shivered.
That was how piercing Emperor Karon’s eyes were.
Even though he wore a contented smile.
“Ke-ke-ke-ke! What an interesting fellow. A month ago he looked half-dead.”
“It seems he has risen from his despondency.”
“Good news. So—the Imperial demesne grew?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Roughly one hundred hectares of land. Fertile enough to farm.”
“Why bother increasing farmland? It’ll do as an execution ground. Somewhere the nobles can see clearly.”
“…P—pardon?”
Chamberlain Adit blurted the reflexive question before he knew it.
The answer was too outrageous.
Realizing his mistake, he started violently.
“M-my apologies, Your Majesty.”
“Enough. It happens. I’m in a good mood today; I’ll let it pass.”
“Your Majesty’s grace is boundless.”
His livery was soaked through.
Cold sweat poured out.
A strange reaction.
The Emperor was all smiles, yet the chamberlain was terrified.
He couldn’t help it.
Whenever that smile appeared, some calamity invariably followed.
Today, however, fortune smiled.
No doubt thanks to the news about Duke Carius.
“From now on, bring me every report related to Abel.”
“As you command, Your Majesty.”
The chamberlain bustled out.
Left alone, Emperor Karon stood by the window.
Wind from outside ruffled his ash-gray hair.
Then the smile vanished from his lips.
Face gone cold, he murmured softly.
“I wonder how much my cousin has changed. I should meet him soon.”
“Ugh! This is getting old.”
Lately I’d been crossing swords with the Sierre noble faction.
There was no political intent.
Setting justice straight just put them in the way.
Today’s assignment happened to concern Baron Parbiant again.
“This guy really is a piece of work.”
Even stingy lords paid at least two silons a month.
If they didn’t provide board and lodging.
But Baron Parbiant had delayed wages for six months.
Only twenty workers in total on the farm.
He’d withheld a total of 240 silons.
Converted to gold, it was only forty-eight goldens.
Of course, if we counted past offenses, the sum would balloon.
There was no way this bastard had done it only this once.
Judging by his spending, he withheld it on purpose.
In the end, I could only hand down this judgment.
“I will now pronounce sentence. The defendant is sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment. Furthermore, to resolve the wage arrears, we will seize part of his assets.”
“Th-that can’t—!”
Baron Parbiant let out a strangled cry.
But once sentence was passed, there was no going back.
He could, of course, appeal for a new trial.
But that took guts.
Only one stood above me, the High Judge—the Emperor.
Take a case with evidence this solid all the way up there?
Suicidal.
Back-channel dealings and an off-the-books price would serve him better.
If he paid a fitting fine, the Emperor might show leniency.
Thus ended the Parbiant Farm assault case.
As I left the courtroom, dozens of people suddenly surged toward me.
Then, all at once, they prostrated themselves.
“Your Grace Duke Carius! Thank you for your righteous judgment.”
“Your Grace is like a saint!”
“U—uuh—h! I’m so moved I can’t stop crying.”
I knew who they were instantly.
The people who would now receive their unpaid wages thanks to this trial.
After half a year of barely eating gruel, how grateful must they be?
A swelling pride rose swiftly within me.
Don’t get a sense of chosenness.
Satisfaction is satisfaction—but there was something to do.
What, in this situation?
Make it clear this wasn’t a verdict for my own moral vanity.
If I got smug here, the trust I’d built would shatter.
I had already made plenty of enemies.
“Rise. I did not act to receive such bows. I merely set justice straight, that is all.”
It was a killer line.
I felt like a seasoned politician.
The victims of wage theft looked even more stunned.
“Someone like this exists!”
“All of this is thanks to His Imperial Majesty’s grace. He placed Your Grace as High Judge, did he not?”
Everything circling back to the Emperor—but so what.
In this Empire, he is everything.
I offered a light bow and withdrew quickly.
Not because I was embarrassed.
Because it was nearly quitting time.
Clock out, clock out, clock out—I want to clock out. Overtime, overtime, I hate overtime.
They weren’t going to pay me extra, so best to hurry.
Humming a song internally, I climbed into the carriage.
There had been a few jolts, but this case had wrapped perfectly.
For something so bewildering, the result was deeply satisfying.
Dragged into this world and forced to live someone else’s life—
Accomplishing this much was no small feat.
So this is what being respected feels like.
As a cop in Korea, I rarely felt that way.
At best, doing well meant breaking even.
If I got through a shift without a drunk swearing at me, it was a good day.
But here?
I just did what I thought was right, and the praise was overwhelming.
Fervent, even.
No smartphones is a pity, but I’m satisfied.
Where else would I feel this kind of reward?
Life in another world wasn’t so bad.
Buoyed by the seatback’s comfort, my good mood blossomed.
CLUNK! THUUUUD!
Out of nowhere the carriage jolted and toppled onto its side.
“Urgh!”
With a grunt I grabbed the safety handle.
It was reflexive, but my movement was surprisingly precise.
Thanks to that, I slipped out of the carriage unscathed.
“Strike!”
As I struggled to steady myself, a sharp voice cut the air.
At the same moment, six assailants rushed in.
Each wore a mask and wielded a black, glinting blade.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Cursing, I scanned around.
Nothing at hand looked usable as a weapon.
Then—
My fingers brushed something inside my robe.
The iron gavel I’d carried since the first day I woke in this body.
I yanked it out—and in that instant, something changed.
SHOOOOOO—
Huh?
The attackers’ movements slowed, as if in slow motion.
At the same time my body began to move on its own.
Whipping the gavel with deft snaps, I cracked the assailants’ skulls.
The sound rang out as joyfully as when I pronounced sentence.
BADABADABADAK!
In a heartbeat, the attackers went down like dominoes.
Grinning pale, I looked at the one who had given the order to attack.
“You idiots must’ve forgotten my temper.”