Chapter 45.1 Execution
Long tables were moved to the open space in front of the court. Black-robed monks led the court members out in a procession and stood behind the tables. This was an unprecedented feat, openly revealing the entire court trial process to the lowly people, as if they were someone to be respected. Did the trial still need to listen to their opinions?
But no one dared to question at this moment. They stood silently in their places. Everywhere they looked was filled with people.
The Chief Judge, supported by two monks on either side, was trembling slightly. He seemed a little weak in the legs. He held a piece of parchment in his hand and tried his best to shout, “…In accordance with the wishes of the vast majority of the people of Florence, the Grand Tribunal, adhering to the principles of fairness, justice, and openness, will conduct a trial here against the Lords of the Papal States headed by Lord Lauren Russo for the crimes of premeditation to commit murder on the Pope, slaughtering civilians, and so on. Now, the witnesses will present their testimony.”
Every word the Judge said was repeated verbatim by the monk standing beside him, and his words were passed from one person after another all the way to the end of the street.
Unlike Miracle Square, the main base of the Papal Court, which had a large number of copper pipes buried underneath for sound amplification, the Grand Tribunal has never been favored, like a neglected child. The building hadn’t been repaired for many years, and of course, a good thing such as sound amplification equipment hadn’t been installed yet. So now they could only rely on the most primitive method of transmitting information.
After shouting the words that the Pope’s deacon had asked him to say, the Judge couldn’t help but feel a little confused. The witness testimony had just ended, why did they have to do it again? But this was His Holiness’s request, he dared not disobey. The deacon even gave him a piece of parchment, asking him to read it word for word. The Judge had to say that he felt like his professionalism had been insulted.
But at the same time, he dared not disobey.
The old man clutched the parchment in his hand, and the sweat from his palm moistened the scribbled words on it. He recognized that the handwriting belonged to His Excellency Portia, the Secretary-General of the Papal Palace.
He didn’t want to delve into what the implications were. He just relied on his years of survival experience and sensitively sensed that today’s trial would mostly likely lead to an unexpected outcome – one that had been planned by the hands of certain people.