The Golden Lord has a perverted SSS-rank summoning system!-Chapter 44: Murder (02)
As the lord of a small settlement, Ethan was more than just a ruler and administrator.
He was also the sword of the law and the judge.
Without a justice system or a legal code, the lord’s word was the law itself, and it was this lord’s duty to judge who was innocent and who was guilty.
From land disputes to murders and accusations of infidelity.
As Lord of Goldenveil, Ethan had a duty to judge all these cases.
Shortly after getting himself together, with his sword at his waist, he walked out to the front of his mansion.
His steps were heavy.
His ears picked up the wailing of a woman and the screams of a young man who seemed to be on the verge of being lynched to death.
Ethan approached, his heart growing heavier with every step.
There was a body on the ground, blood splattered across the mud, children crying as they screamed for their father.
Three in total. The youngest was six, the oldest, seventeen.
The mother, now a widow, clung desperately to her husband’s slit throat, trying to staunch the bleeding.
Well... there was nothing left to stop.
He had been dead for many minutes.
Alice, who had already dressed and was standing beside Ethan, joined the widow, casting healing magic with tearful eyes, even though she knew it was useless.
Humans are funny creatures.
Ethan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
His eyes shifted, focusing on the young man on the ground, whose body was already covered in bruises.
He was a familiar figure in Goldenveil, even before Ethan arrived.
But he had never been a serious problem, sometimes he’d steal bread, sometimes a chicken. Things that could be resolved with a few lashes, stern words, and a bit of hard labor.
Now, it was different.
He had killed a man. A father and a husband.
"My lord... the trial must be swift, since the guards will have to leave soon." Ulric spoke, and Ethan’s eyes fell upon the old man.
In the settlement’s square, the guard had already set up a wooden throne, something Ethan didn’t even know existed.
"Remove the body from the street and prepare a coffin as quickly as possible..." Ethan turned away. "The expedition will be delayed a little."
He didn’t want to conduct a trial while the widow was still weeping desperately and the dead man’s body remained sunk in the mud.
They were better than that.
"Yes, my lord." Ulric bowed, shouting orders to some of the village men.
As he waited, Ethan’s eyes met the young man’s.
There was pain, despair, and guilt—his hands stained with blood and his face pressed into the mud by the heavy body of Goldenveil’s master builder.
That young man was talented. One of the few Rank C talents in the settlement.
At seventeen, if he enlisted in the guard, he would be a great talent who would quickly reach the second stage, and who had a small chance of reaching the third. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
Unfortunately, that chance no longer existed.
Ethan went to the throne and waited.
An hour. Two hours.
Soon, the body was pulled from the mud, the blood washed away, and the widow was given a more appropriate place to mourn her loss.
"What are his possessions?" Ethan asked, his eyes shifting from the young man on the ground to the dead man’s eldest son.
From what he’d heard from Alice, the two young men were good friends and were always together.
Now, from the eyes of the eldest son, filled with hatred and a thirst for revenge, it was obvious that the friendship was over.
"He has his dead father’s old house, and the sword as well, the one he used to kill," Ulric replied.
"Hm... bring the sword to me." Ethan motioned to Alaric, who obeyed.
A few minutes later, the captain of the guard returned with the sword in his hands.
"No! That’s mine!" The young man on the floor roared, his eyes filled with tears and rage. "It’s all my father left me... please..."
Ethan paid no heed to those words. He took the sword, which had already been cleaned of blood, and studied the blade.
It was a good sword, only slightly inferior to the one he himself used, in terms of quality.
"Why did you kill him?" Ethan asked.
"Because he was a son of a bitch!" The young assassin spat on the ground. "Just like you!"
"Ah..." Ethan turned his face toward Ulric and Alaric, waiting for an answer from father and son.
"He was caught stealing and, in desperation, ended up using the sword," Alaric said. "Or at least that’s what the widow said."
"Hm..." Ethan scratched his chin, looking into the young man’s eyes once more.
There was guilt, but not the guilt of someone who was remorseful.
It was more like the guilt of a partner who betrays his own companion. He felt guilty because he’d been caught, not for what he’d done.
"You killed a man... a father and a husband." Ethan drew his sword from its sheath, walking toward the murderer.
The man holding murderer’s down didn’t hesitate, immediately exposing his neck to Ethan.
"In the name of his soul and the peace of his now-widowed wife, I, Ethan Goldenveil, Lord of Goldenveil, ruler by divine right and by the blessing of the Nine, sentence you to death."
Ethan gave the young man no time to scream.
With a small piece of wood positioned beneath the assassin’s neck, he brought the sword down.
A pained groan echoed. A head rolled across the floor.
Ethan did not look at the decapitated corpse. His eyes fell upon the victim’s eldest son.
"All of the accused’s properties shall be handed over to you. Your mother, now more than ever, needs a man to help her raise your younger siblings. Be strong." Ethan handed the sword to the young man, glancing briefly at his status screen.
A Grade D talent, still, a level Ethan would have liked to have in his guard.
The young man took the weapon that had been used to kill his father and that had now served to deliver justice.
He looked at the corpse of the boy who had once been his best friend and at the blood on the blade.
There were many thoughts in his mind, but in the end, he only strengthened his determination.
"Thank you, my lord... my name is Cain, and I will serve you until death!"
He sheathed the sword, bowed to Ethan, and then turned his back.
