West of Bahamut Town, before the execution platform to the left of the damaged city wall.
John sat expressionlessly at the judge's table in his major's uniform, watching the townspeople who had gathered of their own accord before him and feeling the prying gazes from the distant houses.
Yet his heart was filled with conflict.
Although he had decided to kill this enemy ever since learning that Myka had taken part in the plan to assassinate him,
he had never intended to involve himself in this trial in the first place, much less preside over it personally.
It was not merely because he had little interest in bloody scenes of slaughter.
More importantly, it came down to his position.
Although he had arranged for Dick to provide cover beforehand, turning this trial from commoners judging a noble into House Hartman "cleaning its own house,"
John knew full well that such superficial concealment could never fool the Empire's nobles.
He could already foresee the Old Guard Party nobles discussing the matter in secret after he finished judging Myka Hartman, perhaps even arranging assassins or traps to find a way to kill a mudfoot like him.
This was practically hell!
Major John's heart was full of melancholy.
Just as he considered pretending to have a sudden stomachache once the trial began, claiming he needed to take a dump,
then directly handing the authority to judge Myka Hartman over to Laiya, a noble descendant, so he could avoid becoming a target of the Empire's nobles,
a military-green truck slowly approached from afar. The gazes of the surrounding residents, which had initially been calm upon seeing Myka Hartman, shifted into tension and anger.
John could not help sighing inwardly. He rose to his feet and instructed Hawk, who stood behind him with a silent