The Freak Show Foreman

However, the actions of the people ascending to the stage were not significantly different from those who had been on it before.

People assigned to their respective roles were acting out their parts.

The only difference was that the actors had no idea how the play would end.

The plaintiff, defendant, court clerk, and witnesses stood in their designated places.

The guests became the audience for this trial.

They surrounded the stage in a circle and positioned themselves on either the defendant’s side, the plaintiff’s side, or somewhere in between, depending on their opinions about the trial.

The elderly judge, dressed in a judicial robe, emerged from behind the stage.

As he casually looked around the left side of the room, he hesitated midway to his seat.

A lavishly decorated chair adorned with all kinds of jewels and flowers awaited him.

This was the seat where Ivonne had been sitting, playing the role of the queen on the stage.

The judge felt out of place in the extravagant setting.

He glanced at the people from the theater’s side with a troubled look.

He had been a judge for over 20 years.

He could easily read the contempt in their faces.

The people from the Rose Windmill Cabaret had expressed their reservations about the trial in their own way.

Perhaps he might have found it more acceptable if this trial was truly for the sake of the victims.

But in their eyes, this was merely a political show for the high and mighty.

It was only natural for the theatre people to have reservations about the trial.

The fact that his long-time drinking buddy, Yug Maroine, was among those who were eyeing him was particularly vexing.

So, they consider me part of their clique.

Looking at the audience, it seemed that most of those on the defendant’s side shared this sentiment.

The robes, the gavel, and even the court clerk all seemed to have been prepared in advance, making it inevitable for people to misunderstand the situation.

But that was not the truth.

He didn’t like being manipulated in this kind of collusion.

But what could he do?

The prosecution had asked about the trial, and he had honestly answered as the presiding judge.

The scheduling and venue of the trial had been set for this time to facilitate the gathering of the suspects and witnesses, and the notification about the trial had been requested officially due to concerns about the suspect’s escape from the Luz Police Station.

The arguments and evidence were all quite persuasive.

So, what could he do?

He could only agree.

The judge made an effort to ignore the mocking gazes of those around him and took his seat.

Today, the main character on the stage had taken the defendant’s seat.

He was a young man who was handsome enough to be an actor.

He seemed to be smiling with an air of nonchalance, as if he didn’t know the gravity of the situation.

The judge quietly clicked his tongue.

He never thought it would be like that.

It was clear that the purpose of distancing oneself from politics in this case was to be understood.

Among them, aside from the deputy of the mounted police, there was no one with the genuine intention of catching the culprit.

I don’t know the exact underlying circumstances, but it seemed like their goal was to tarnish the honour of the opposing nobility for their own gain.

By the time the young man is declared innocent, the reputation of the nobles who supported him would likely have already plummeted.

In the process, they would lose all the opportunities they had worked so hard to obtain.

But what’s so good that they’re laughing like that?

It’s like having a foolish friend.

The judge first examined the suitability of the defendant.

That is, checking if the conditions for an "immediate trial" could be met.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Frank Wonderstein."

"Do you have any officially provable identity?"

"No."

"Have you obtained qualifications to substitute for identity documents, such as citizenship, temporary resident status, or protected refugee status in another country?"

"No."

"Do you happen to know your place of origin?"

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"I don’t know."

"What do you know about your parents?"

"I don’t know."

An unidentified orphan wanderer.

The Viscount Dosville who was the plaintiff laughed heartily and clapped his hands.

"Unbelievable! I thought so, but he really is the real deal, a wanderer! Isn’t it unnecessary to hold a trial for this?"

He turned towards the audience and exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders.

In front of him, laughter erupted, and behind him, uncomfortable sighs flowed.

The term "wanderer" mentioned here was not just a literal reference to ordinary travellers or itinerant entertainers.

Article 1 of the relevant law clearly defined "wanderers."

Those without a fixed residence and unidentifiable in terms of their status.

In this era, wanderers, including gypsies, received even more scorn than those who engaged in certain occupations.

Especially in Charlotia, where agriculture was the mainstay and the system of social hierarchy was deeply rooted, there was a strong aversion to outsiders. They had a particularly intense rejection of foreigners compared to other countries.

Rootless trash.

That was the perception the people here had of wanderers.

In some places, wanderers were even arrested, branded, and turned into slaves.

The defendant’s side received all sorts of mockery from the audience.

"Ha, the head of the Freakshow Circus. You’re in a similar position yourself."

"Your appearance is quite striking. Are you not the child of a famous courtesan?"

"You might have lived a similar life to your mother when you were younger. Hehe."

Even in the face of such excessive ridicule, the defendant’s audience could not offer much of a response.

They, too, couldn’t hide their discomfort regarding Wonderstein’s status.

"Why did you, sir, get involved with someone like him?"

"Look at his clothing and demeanour. It’s natural, isn’t it? Could he be lying about being a noble’s servant?"

"It’s because men believe only in appearances and rush into relationships, that’s why."

This hard-to-swallow remark came from various sources.

Ordinary people would probably have been too embarrassed to show their faces.

However, Wonderstein, who stood at the centre of all this turmoil, remained composed.

He silently endured people’s insults and smiled quietly.

As if he was used to hearing such things.

As if being insulted was part of his daily life.

Anais felt like tears were about to well up.

It felt like she was peering into someone’s deeply private matters that should never be revealed.

She had always thought there was something strange about him.

Whenever the topic of his hometown or background came up, he would quickly change the subject.

He must have some reasons for it.

She never tried to ask first if the other person didn’t bring it up.

Every time, she restrained herself from entertaining negative thoughts.

It can’t be.

It won’t be.

Just look at the way the ringmaster behaves and carries himself.

He must be from a fallen noble or aristocratic lineage.

Even when the Viscount Dosville appeared, reciting laws and regulations, she couldn’t immediately grasp what he was saying.

Although she had studied the law, her knowledge was mainly about economics and commerce.

She didn’t know much about laws like those concerning the Gypsies.

But through the questions and answers with the judge and the Viscount Dosville’s declaration, she finally realized what he was talking about.

Wonderstein was a wanderer with a lower status than commoners.

Prostitutes, jesters, beggars, itinerant people, thieves, those who were born on the road and raised there, with no home or country.

While not referred to as Gypsies, they were essentially no different.

Wanderers.

A dark suspicion that had briefly crossed her mind.

And it turned out to be true.

And in the worst way possible, declared in front of everyone.

Anais tightly clenched her trembling hands.

What should I do?

Even if I try to save the ringmaster, what should I do from now on?

Shall I try to recruit a defence team in this council?

No, they said immediate execution.

Can she save the ringmaster right here and now?

Her thoughts tangled up.

She started to feel short of breath.

Just as tears were about to well up in her eyes, Lord Mustang whispered softly behind her.

"Compose yourself."

His voice was calm.

"If you show such a reaction, they will assume you have a connection with that man. Immediate trial and execution are not possible without solid evidence and testimony. The Viscount Dosville’s words are groundless. Their goal is to tarnish our reputation, not the trial itself."

Anais managed to calm her trembling body.

Immediate execution.

Wanderers.

In the midst of those two attacks, she lost her composure.

The words of Lord Mustang were correct.

The trial was just a pretext.

Their goal was to tarnish her reputation and undermine her standing in the society. If she showed signs of losing her judgment here, her power and influence would weaken further, making it even harder to save Wonderstein.

She took a deep breath calmly.

"Thank you, Lord Mustang."

"You’re welcome."

Anais was slightly puzzled by Lord Mustang’s composed demeanour.

"Are you alright, my lord?"

"What do you mean?"

"Involving yourself in matters beneath your station…"

"Station?" Lord Mustang chuckled. He gestured with his chin towards the ballet dancers spinning gracefully behind him.

"I’ve heard countless rumours about being a lord who keeps courtesans."

"Ah."

He was the owner of the cabaret. At least, it seemed he wouldn’t turn away from Wonderstein’s status.

Anais felt reassured and turned her gaze back to the courtroom.

Viscount Dosville seemed rather disappointed as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Wretched man."

Then, Wonderstein looked at her.

Anais could read embarrassment in his smile.

He must feel ashamed, now that his secret was revealed to everyone, especially in front of her.

She wanted to approach him, to offer comfort.

"I did what I did for the money, not because we’re emotionally involved."

She felt irritated by the situation itself and his nonchalant attitude.

As though he didn’t care.

Nevertheless, there were many eyes on her.

She had to act now.

With a composed expression, she ignored his smile and averted her gaze.

"I see you’re quite angry, my lady."

"Who wouldn’t be? Anyone would have been deceived by that façade."

"What a hardship you must be enduring."

Sympathetic words from the spectators on her side.

With this, there would be no more misunderstandings about her relationship with him.

Viscount Dosville appeared to be disappointed.

Ha, he’s shaking in his boots.

Unintentionally, Anais was about to burst into laughter.

As she continued, her gaze fell on Wonderstein.

Oh.

She inwardly groaned.

The look in Wonderstein’s eyes as he gazed at her.

It seemed to carry an overwhelming sorrow, a poignant bitterness.