Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 958 (08.957): 'Wartime Tribunal'

In the deathly silence of the makeshift trial ground, only the military flag fluttered in the breeze above the ruins.

Brigadier General Jean Lannes stood behind the dusty wooden table dragged from the church, picked up a slate indictment, and spoke in a voice as cold as steel, each word echoing clearly in everyone's ears:

“被告为辛提拉第17燧发枪团3营2连的14名士兵，其中6人已在先前的战斗中阵亡，实到被告为8人。

They are citizen Aureliano Buendía, citizen Jules...

Brigadier General Rana read out their names one by one, each syllable steady and powerful.

"You are accused of drinking alcohol while on duty and of violently murdering Matthew Antoine, a citizen and soldier of the 2nd Battalion of the New Lands Dragoons."

In addition, you are also accused of multiple crimes, including dereliction of duty, desertion, passive combat, and incompetence in command.

He put down the indictment, his sharp gaze sweeping over the eight pale-faced flintlock gunners like a blade.

"What do you have to say in response to these accusations?"

“We deny the charges, sir! It was those scoundrels who offended us first!” one of the accused flintlock gunners shouted, trying to sound brave.

His voice echoed in the empty space, sounding particularly pale and weak.

"We did have a party that night, but it was a banquet hosted by the officers! We were just there on orders and had a few drinks!"

But these third-class citizens… they barged into our camp, disturbing our enjoyment… no, they offended our dignity as nobles! They even tried to steal our wine! It was under these circumstances that we clashed with them. This was absolutely not our sole responsibility!

“Every word they utter reeks of lies!” Battalion Commander Poniatovsky slammed his fist on the table, the force so great that the table groaned under its weight.

His eyes were red with anger, and his voice was almost a suppressed roar: "First of all, we, as messengers, only set up temporary camps in the designated area around your camp after receiving personal permission from Major General Leclerc!"

Secondly, we brought plenty of food and water with us, and there is absolutely no reason, nor is it possible, for us to have any interaction with you!

Jean Lannes's gaze shifted back and forth between the two men. He remained silent for a moment, seemingly weighing these diametrically opposed statements.

Then he spoke again, his tone still calm: "Since the defendant has made such a claim, please provide relevant evidence."

“This… how could such evidence exist!” the flintlock gunman retorted angrily, his flustered yet pretentious demeanor quite comical.

"Would we bother recording this with a video camera? We're nobles! We wouldn't stoop to such trivial matters!"

"Please provide evidence to support your claim." Rana rolled his eyes at the flintlock gunner.

Battalion Commander Poniatovsky took a slightly wrinkled roll of parchment from his pocket and carefully unfolded it.

The document on it was a pass issued by the frontline command, written in High Gothic, with a scarlet wax seal and a sacred parchment seal in the lower right corner, symbolizing its unquestionable authority.

"This is the pass that the major general's adjutant personally handed to us and recorded after we finished our mission of escorting the letter."

"Why do your own people need a pass to go to an allied camp?" Horatio turned his head and asked in a low voice to Colonel Yadwig, who was standing behind him and acting as an advisor to the jury members.

A bitter resignation crossed Yadvig's face: "The conservatives and reformers of Sintira are irreconcilable enemies. If we tighten the screws on our parts to the left, they'll tighten them to the right. It's because of this intense disagreement that we're practically operating independently, with camps and armaments never communicating." Horatio nodded thoughtfully. This absurd internal strife seemed familiar in every corner of the Empire.

The pass was presented to the jury, and after careful verification, its authenticity was confirmed, and it was formally accepted as one of the pieces of evidence.

Immediately afterwards, Battalion Commander Poniatovsky submitted the battalion log and personnel dispatch sheet for that evening. The name of the victim, Matthew Antoine, was prominently listed on the duty roster for that day.

In addition, the locations of outposts and patrol routes are also fully marked, clearly indicating that the activities of the dragoons are strictly limited to their own temporary camps.

Subsequently, several sentries from the 2nd Dragoon Battalion testified as witnesses. They swore to the Emperor that no Dragoons had broken into the Sintira flintlock barracks that night, nor had anyone asked for food or drink.

Although all the witnesses were from the plaintiff's side, the price of perjury in the Imperial military court was extremely severe—not only would it result in immediate execution, but it would also bring an indelible disgrace to the entire legion.

Therefore, these witnesses had been warned before appearing in court, but they still chose to stand up and guarantee the truthfulness of their testimonies with their lives and honor.

"War courts want to focus on the key aspects of the case," Brigadier General Rana's voice drew everyone's attention back. "What exactly caused the conflict? Who was the one who directly caused the death of soldier Matthew Antoine? Defendants, you are accused of provoking a conflict outside the 2nd Dragoon Regiment camp while intoxicated. Do you admit to that?"

“We were just walking around our own camp,” the flintlock gunner who spoke first argued. “I was drunk and wanted to find a place to urinate, and then I saw a tent that looked like a toilet, so I went over there. That’s when these third-class citizens stopped me.”

"That's our barracks, you bastard! Are your eyes on your ass?!" Battalion Commander Poniatovsky could no longer contain his anger and cursed loudly in front of everyone.

It wasn't until two burly military policemen stepped forward and forcibly pressed him back into his seat that he sat down angrily, though his chest was still heaving violently.

"So, you admit you were drunk and went to relieve yourself outside the barracks of the Second Dragoon Battalion?" Brigadier General Rana seized on the loophole in their words, asking the question while rapidly jotting something down with an ink pen on the thick notebook in front of him.

"That was originally part of our camp! These country bumpkins just wandered into our camp and set up camp!"

Brigadier General Rana ignored their sophistry and continued, "After you were stopped by the sentry, who struck first? The plaintiff accuses you of smashing a bottle over the head of Matthew Antoine, the sentry on duty that night. Do you plead guilty to assaulting the sentry?"

"I...I don't remember. I drank too much that night," the man said vaguely, glancing nervously at his companion.

The others also shook their heads; no one admitted it. They responded to the questioning with silence and refusal to speak.

“These bastards don’t want to talk, but that’s okay, I have evidence!” Battalion Commander Poniatovsky pushed away the military policeman who was still holding his shoulder, struggled to stand up, and raised his hand high.

Then, to everyone's astonishment, he pulled a small device stained with dark red blood from the pocket of his breeches and handed it to the military police.

"This is not the first time we have been unjustly offended by conservative soldiers!"

So I bought the same type of body camera as the Ministry of Justice at my own expense and distributed them to the sentries on duty every day!
This one was found near the body of the murdered Sentinel Matthew Antoine!

The battalion commander's words were like a thunderclap, startling the silent, unresponsive flintlock musketeers, who turned pale.

A military policeman took the small camera, skillfully removed the built-in storage board, and inserted it into the data interface of a servo skull that was suspended in mid-air.

A flash of red light appeared in the eye sockets of the skull, and then a beam of light was projected from the mouth, clearly projecting the stored images onto a temporary white screen.

Horatio and the other jurors all turned their eyes to the flickering screen.

(End of this chapter)