Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 136 False Accusation (Second Update! Requesting Recommendation Votes!)

Cotton Mather skipped the male suspects, questioning each woman first about whether she was a witch and whether she had practiced witchcraft. If the answer was yes, Mather indicated that the court would be lenient and that God would show mercy.

He would then demand that the girls describe in detail the evil deeds they had committed in the name of Satan, no matter how heinous—talking animals, witch gatherings, black men rising from hell with flaming wooden staffs, and anything else—stories that Mather believed to be signs of sin. After the confessions, a witch hunter would hand each girl a handwritten record of her confession, order her to sign it, and then she would be sent back to her cell before the next girl was taken away.

If Mather is not convinced by the confessions, or finds them lacking in detail, or if the suspects attempt to shift blame to others to lessen their guilt, he will begin interrogation. Those who also refuse to confess will be severely interrogated. The interrogation methods will naturally follow those described in *Malèna*, published in 1486. ​​In the eyes of Cotton Mather and the interrogator Matthew Hopkins, no suspect is innocent; they are all witches because:

If the defendant leads an immoral life, then that certainly proves that she associates with the devil; but if she is pious and behaves properly, then she is obviously pretending in order to use her piety to divert people's suspicions about her association with the devil and her participation in witchcraft gatherings at night.

If she appears fearful during the interrogation, then she is clearly guilty, her conscience giving her away; if she believes herself innocent and remains calm, then she is undoubtedly guilty: for witches are accustomed to lying shamelessly.

If she defends herself against the charges against her, it proves her guilt; if she becomes so terrified and desperate, dejected and silent because of the extreme horror of the false accusations against her, it is direct evidence of her guilt.

If an unfortunate woman, in agony from torture, rolls her eyes around, it means she is searching for her devil; but if her gaze is vacant and unfocused, it means she has seen her devil and is looking at him.

If she finds the strength to withstand the torture, it means the devil is enabling her to endure it, and therefore must torture her even more severely; if she cannot bear it and dies under the torture, it means the devil is letting her die to show that she will not confess or reveal the secret.

Agent Coulson paced anxiously outside the courthouse, unsure how many of those arrested were truly connected to witchcraft and who were genuinely innocent. The sorcerer who could provide the correct answers was nowhere to be found. Coulson was frantic; he wanted to rescue the innocent, but feared rescuing the real witches. As the King's army escorted the prisoners to the courthouse, Salomon also appeared outside—the farm he was heading to was the private farm of the accused John and Mary Plessy, whom Salomon had been present when the King's army arrested them.

"Those inside are probably all innocent, because they can't catch the real witch, though I'm not entirely sure, because I have the weaknesses of an ordinary person too. In any case, you have to understand, so many people can't stay hidden for long." Salomon had already guessed Coulson's thoughts. He said to Coulson in the noisy crowd, "And I don't want you to act rashly before we've determined whether those people are innocent. I've found the real suspects, I've found the leads, but before that, I don't want us outsiders to be suspected. Haven't you noticed that I've been trying to avoid appearing in front of the locals as much as possible? That Matthew Hopkins is from London. Natasha's lie was too big. I'm not some knight; such a lie will be exposed in no time, and then no matter how we explain ourselves, we'll be considered accomplices of the witches."

Coulson simply looked at Salomon without answering, so the sorcerer continued on his own. "Alright, but I suggest you just kill Cotton Mather and Matthew Hopkins. I've already told you, in this twisted reality, no grandfather paradox will occur. Killing two worthless bastards isn't so bad; America isn't even independent yet." Salomon lowered his voice. "There are no laws in this land, Coulson. If you want to be a law enforcer, you'll have to be a legislator first. If you want, you can be Thomas Jefferson. Cotton Mather and Matthew Hopkins are the perfect targets. I'm sure you've heard of them when you studied history."

"You've convinced me, Salomon." Coulson clicked his tongue. "If things really come to that, I'll do it."

“Very well, now we need to divide the work.” Salomon glanced at the courtroom outside the crowd, then turned back to Coulson and said, “You go and rescue the innocent, I’ll hunt down the real witch. But I need you to gather information for me and remember a few names: Bridget Bishop, Susanna Martin, Alice Parker, and Margaret Scott.”

"I've got it." Coulson pulled a pencil from his pocket and wrote the name down in his notepad. "Would you mind telling me what happened?"

"As long as you can understand," Salomon sighed, pulling Coulson away from the crowd to a secluded corner. The sorcerer began to recount what had happened after he left the woods. Once outside the woods, Salomon retrieved a crystal ball from his dimensional bag and headed towards Priscilla Farm, one of the sources of the alien magic. He wasn't afraid of the fanatical Puritans discovering his magical abilities, nor was he worried about their weak firearms. Since these people were so fanatical that they had dedicated their souls to God, Salomon wouldn't mind sending them to meet their maker.

The farm owner, John Price, was a tall, thin man nearing sixty. Although he was quite mild-mannered, his rough appearance had earned him a somewhat bad reputation among those who worked for him over the years. He had suffered many misfortunes, including the death of his first wife ten years ago and the passing of all his children last winter.

Mary Plessy was John's second wife. She was a rather plump woman, but not obese; she was in her forties and a genuinely kind farm wife.

When Salomon appeared before them, the gentle and kind farm owners immediately stopped what they were doing to welcome him. Although they didn't know Salomon, Mary Price thought that a stranger in their village must need help. When Salomon asked them if they knew anything about the strange things happening in Salem, John Price immediately expressed his indignation. This indignation wasn't just because their village of Salem and the town of Salem had conflicting legal status, but also because, in the farmers' eyes, the townspeople were all clumsy.

“They’re always late,” John Price said. “They can’t do anything. I pay them half a penny each, but they can’t do anything right.”

"Them?" Salomon asked. "Who?"

"Ha, that distant relative of the Putmans, that little girl named Alice Parker, and Margaret Scott, Susanna Martin, Bridget Bishop from town… my wife even prepared a stew that couldn't be thicker, and some dark bread for them, and they're not coming today!" John Price complained, but he didn't neglect his helpers. In fact, the girls' absence today had already worried John Price quite a bit. When he learned that Salomon was returning to town, he asked Salomon to inquire about the girls' names and, by the way, whether they still wanted to work for him.

Salomon noted down the names and agreed to John Plessy's request. But before he could go far, the royal army arrived at the farm. Salomon watched as they drove John and Mary Plessy out of the farm, spilling freshly milked milk on the ground, and the unfed poultry running rampant. The sorcerer waited until the royal army had ransacked the farm before returning with the Agamotto crystal ball—there was indeed some strange magic here, but it was dissipating and would likely disappear completely in a few days—the Plessys had nothing to do with magic; what mattered were the girls who worked there.

"Okay, I'll try my best." Coulson nodded in agreement. "I think I can ask Randolph Carter for help; he's a local..."

But Salomon shook his head frantically. "No," he said. "Randolph Carter may be on our side, but he's not human; he's an entity beyond human comprehension. He doesn't care about the lives of a few ordinary people; everything he does is related to his own purposes. Don't seek his help; he might betray us."

Salomon warned Coulson not to go looking for the girls himself, because the magic they possessed was far more bizarre and terrifying than anything he had learned—it was outright dark magic, and the horrific state of those affected by dark magic could push the limits of human psychological endurance. The agent agreed, but the sorcerer was still worried he was courting death—a s.H.I.E.L.D. agent's instinct, especially among Nick Fury's inner circle, where Nick Fury was known for his recklessness. Agent Coulson, as one of Nick Fury's most trusted agents, was almost as reckless as his superior.

“Then we must at least rescue them before they are hanged. You know, numbers are not a reason to stop me,” Coulson said, raising an eyebrow. “Hangings in this era are not so merciful. I read a book that hangings in this era still bear the marks of the Dark Ages; those hanged die slowly and painfully. You must at least tell me who the innocent are.”

“John Plessy and his wife Mary Plessy are definitely, and the others…” Salomon took a breath. “I’ll observe them later. Remember to act tonight; I’m going back to the woods tonight. I have a feeling the mastermind will appear there tonight.”

At this moment, the royal army that had gone to search the forest returned, bringing back a corpse.

The body of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

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