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"Wake up, Fox," a deep voice said. "Something's wrong."

Forcing my eyes open, I struggled to grasp the situation.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting up in bed. I saw José crouching beside me, his expression grave—clearly, something was very wrong.

"Not sure," he said, stepping back a little to give me space as I dressed. "Ian is getting the details, but..."

"But what?" Thanks to years of discipline, I was dressed in uniform in less than a minute and reached for the gun stored in the cabinet. To my surprise, José stopped me, and I tilted my head, demanding an explanation.

"It’s best not to escalate the situation," José said hesitantly, which only confused me more.

I crossed my arms, taking on an aggressive stance. José sighed, his body slumping in resignation.

"It's the Admiral," he said quietly, his pale yellow eyes unfocused as he stared at the floor. "He’s badly injured. I heard they’re trying to save him, but things look grim."

"By Rationalism itself!" The shock hit me abruptly. I never considered that the Storm Wolf, capable of destroying fleets with his mind, could be injured. "What about Luther? It's his shift, isn't it?"

José wore that same hesitant expression again, making me want to strangle him.

"By Rationalism as my witness, José, you melodramatic coyote, if you don’t tell me what's going on right now, I swear I’ll—" I didn’t finish the threat, because the unusual sadness in his pale yellow eyes made me instantly assume the worst. "No way," I muttered, feeling the temperature around me drop suddenly. "Luther’s still alive, right?"

"He's fine." José’s answer made me exhale in relief, but his tone didn’t suggest it was good news. I could only wait for the real bad news. "The Praetorian Guards... they said it was Luther." As if I hadn’t understood, he repeated, "Luther tried to kill the Admiral... and he might have succeeded."

The time that followed was utter chaos.

People were rushing back and forth, issuing orders in authoritative tones. The number of patrols and Praetorian Guards on duty doubled. The once quiet corridors of the palace now echoed with shouts and hurried footsteps.

We all knew that worrying wouldn't help, and the best we could do was to at least try to get enough sleep. But the growing noise didn’t disperse the thick, stagnant silence that seemed to surround us, and with the atmosphere so tense, it was impossible to truly relax and rest.

No one admitted it, but I could see the exhaustion in Ian’s bloodshot eyes and in José’s deepening scowl. We were like fish frozen in an icy lake, unable to move or struggle, yet fully aware of how dire things were—and completely powerless.

But we couldn’t afford to collapse. Not yet.

The Praetorian Guards had approached Ian a few times. When the yellow dog returned, he would explain the latest developments: for instance, we weren’t being treated as potential accomplices, and Ian had successfully negotiated to get Luther a trial with an Imperial judge present, rather than an immediate execution.

By Rationalism itself, how is that considered good news?

When Ian mentioned that the Archduke of Golden was lobbying the Senate for Luther’s execution as a deterrent, I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose and grit my teeth. My expression must have been so fierce that I had to reassure Ian that I was just tired.

So, we all downed a liter of coffee and attended the trial without having seen the Admiral since the incident.

Unlike the corridors that echoed with whispers and exaggerated rumors, the courtroom was eerily quiet—so quiet I almost thought I was hearing things. It was a reminder of how exhausted I was.

I tried to focus on the front of the room, where the bigwigs sat, to give my restless brain something to do other than imagining the worst possible outcome.

All eight Archdukes, except for the Admiral, were present, seated on the right side of the courtroom. Across from them, on the left, sat seven gray wolves. Everyone wore grim expressions—except for that damn Golden Retriever, who looked positively delighted by the situation.

Luther was brought in, flanked by two white wolves. They removed his handcuffs only when he reached Ian’s side. As the defense representative, Ian could communicate with Luther during the proceedings, but I could only watch from the gallery, powerless until the midday recess.

Luther looked terrible—dazed and unresponsive. Ian leaned in to speak to him, but Luther barely acknowledged him.

"What did they do to Luther? There’s no way he’s acting like that on his own." I was sure the Empire’s "interrogation" started with torture. But at least Luther didn’t appear injured. Perhaps I should be grateful that the Senate needed to stage a lawful trial.

"No, I think it’s something else," José said, rubbing his hands together in frustration. He was clearly just as anxious about being stuck in the gallery. "This trial is under the oversight of both the Scientific Council and the Senate, with an Imperial judge presiding. Even the Emperor himself can’t interfere and allow anything illegal to happen during the investigation." José gestured with his nose towards the seven gray wolves with their distinct markings.

I reflexively murmured in agreement, but as I wondered why José knew so much about these proceedings, the back door of the courtroom opened. A phantom poodle walked in and stood at the judge’s seat, surveying the courtroom.

I didn’t miss the Archduke of Golden’s delighted expression when he saw the poodle. He even covered his snout with his hand, clearly struggling to hold back laughter.

Damn it, the judge was his ally.

"All rise!" The sudden shout from the Praetorian Guards startled me.

Ian had explained the general procedure, so I dutifully followed along, rising to show respect to the judge, then sitting with the rest of the crowd.

Before I knew it, the battle for Luther’s life had begun.

I know nothing about imperial law. After all, in this society, your social class and species basically determine the various experiences you’ll encounter from birth to death. Learning the law really offers no help, except to increase the sense of despair.

But I don’t need any legal knowledge to see that Ian was completely annihilated, utterly defeated.

He hadn’t even started defending Luther; for some reason, the mutt was desperately asking for a postponement to gain more preparation time.

Despite the relentless onslaught from all sides, Ian managed to hold on until a brief halftime. José and I walked toward the defendant's stand and glanced back at the Praetorian Guards to ensure this wasn’t prohibited.

“This is almost as brutal as the Battle of Midway, right? From the Federation's perspective,” the coyote said, seemingly in good spirits. Although Ian shot a fierce glare at José, I think we all understood that this was his way of expressing support without being awkward.

“Luther, are you okay?” I asked, suppressing various worries and painful memories from the dark depths. I spoke in a steady tone. The mutt didn’t seem to hear me; he stared blankly at one of the walls. I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but I found myself touching… something.

No… not something; there was no physical object there. But I couldn’t touch Luther’s body. It felt as if the air between us suddenly became incredibly viscous, preventing me from reaching forward. The closer I got to Luther, the stronger that inexplicable repulsion became.

This felt a bit like that time…

“Luther, can you hear me?” I called again, and the mutt’s ears twitched slightly, but he immediately turned back to that wall that seemed so special for some reason.

“That’s just how he was when I first saw him,” Ian sighed. “The doctor checked several times, and the conclusion was that there were no physiological issues.”

“I strongly suspect that’s called having no physiological issues.” I tried once more to touch Luther or catch his attention, but failed; that bizarre barrier showed no signs of dissipating.

I glanced at the crossbreed dog and the coyote; they were whispering something to each other.

“Can’t you feel it?” I waved my hand near Luther, testing the range of that strange, viscous air.

“What thing?” Ian looked at me, puzzled. But before I could speak, I saw the door at the back of the courtroom swing open again.

The crossbreed dog cursed softly, glancing quickly at me and the coyote.

“When Luther was in better condition, he expressed one request,” he said slowly, his enunciation revealing his white canine teeth. “He wanted me to promise that no matter what, regardless of the cost, I would do everything in my power to delay…” The crossbreed dog hesitated for a moment but forced himself to continue. “...to delay the execution.”

I think Luther might also know that this was unavoidable.

But… why?

Could it be that he really… no, that’s impossible.

At most, it’s just a terrible accident; I can’t imagine Luther having the capability to harm the Admiral, let alone murder him.

But is it really impossible?

Logic, stop; you can’t even trust your own friend anymore, can you? You don’t even know what happened, do you?

“...Are you sure Luther said that? ‘No matter what the cost, just to delay the time?” I came back to my senses as José asked Ian, and the crossbreed dog nodded in confirmation.

“Luther, why?” I tried one last time to get his attention, but the mutt showed no signs of having heard my voice. “Why do you need to delay? Is it just the fear of that inevitable end? No, I don’t think that’s it. Although Luther is young, he is definitely a fighter. So, is he waiting for something? Something that only he knows? Is it related to the bizarre air surrounding his body?”

“All rise!” the Praetorian Guards shouted in unison, clearly indicating for us to return to the audience seats.

The second half of the trial began.

To be honest, there wasn’t much difference from the first half; I was quickly overwhelmed by the rapid-fire exchanges of arguments, and I was sure Ian wasn’t in a much better condition, which made me even more worried for Luther.

But the mutt was still the same; his mind was evidently not in this room, as if the one on trial was someone else.

What on earth is going on?

The most disgusting thing was the Archduke of Golden’s increasingly exaggerated expressions and gestures, even being stopped by the judge a few times for his obvious laughter.

“Defendant’s representative Ian, I’ve had enough,” the poodle said after banging the gavel. “Aside from the defendant’s mind obviously being elsewhere,” he turned his head to glance at Luther, “if you can’t present any solid arguments, I will render a verdict.”

“Your Honor, that’s not fair!” Ian protested. “All reports from the crime scene are completely unreasonable, merely implying…”

“You served in the Empire’s Heart, didn’t you, Second Class Sergeant Ian?” the poodle interrupted. “Then you should understand that it’s very reasonable.”

Ian tilted his head but then slowly turned to look at Luther, his jaw dropping as if the mutt had suddenly grown wings.

I didn’t know what the on-site report said, so all I felt was increasing anxiety and confusion, almost suffocating me.

The Archduke of Golden wore a smug expression, mockingly flashing a toothy grin at Ian.

Did that psychopathic golden retriever know what the judge was talking about? Or was this merely a blatant display of nobles treating law and justice as irrelevant?

I looked at the various-colored wolves; no one seemed to disagree. So if this wasn’t some kind of jargon that clearly only the upper echelons understood, then the empire had already rotted beyond belief, and José had too much faith in them.

At least one reassuring thing was that the other canines in the audience also showed confused expressions, including the coyote.

“If there are no new evidence or changes, this court, based on the authority granted by the Emperor, the Scientific Council, and the Senate, finds the defendant Luther the mutt guilty of murdering the superior commander,” the shadowy poodle raised his gavel and declared. “Sentenced to death by hanging, to be executed immediately.”

Those few short words decided Luther’s life and death, as if he were not worth anyone’s breath.

No…

A certain feeling of disgust, like having my insides ripped out in an instant, seized me.

Don’t…

The cold wind blew as if it would never stop, the tightening rope creaked, and the body hanging below swayed slowly back and forth…

Please don’t…

I clawed at the hairless skin around my neck with both hands, hard enough for my nails to dig in.

Please don’t let it happen again…

In my despair, I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what I could do.

Endless emptiness swallowed me, as if I were drifting through the vacuum of space without any gear.

The overwhelming surreal feeling made me momentarily unaware of the words that covered the sound of the gavel.

Suddenly, the surrounding silence snapped me back to reality.

I couldn’t understand, but this was the reality unfolding—José stood up, and everyone in the room looked at him.

The coyote stood tall, his expression focused and serious—adjectives I had never thought to apply to him. His light yellow eyes fixed on the shadowy poodle, neither humble nor overbearing, simply… stating.

Most of the audience still looked confused, but I noticed the astonishment displayed by the wolves.

With the entire room’s focus on him, the coyote seemed to receive some kind of signal and began to speak again—his words were completely incomprehensible to me.

“That’s a serious accusation… Coyote,” a pitch-black wolf stood up, and I believed he should be the representative of the Nyx faction. “But you’ve successfully caught my attention; please continue.”

The shadowy poodle, originally wide-eyed and jaws dropped, quickly returned to his previous expression when the black wolf began to speak, leaning back in his chair as if he had no opinion on the shift of control.

What reassured me about this situation was that besides the majority being just as confused as I was, those who weren’t perplexed showed varying degrees of shock. The only exception was the Archduke of Golden, who looked furious, glaring maliciously at the husky sitting at the same table. But the husky continued to display the body language of a surprised canine—wide eyes, ears perked up—completely oblivious to the Archduke of Golden’s glare.

“As the victim, being unrepresented and unable to voice your concerns in court is unjust,” José stated emphatically. I had only heard the coyote speak like that once when he was dead drunk. “I request to represent Richter von Deutschland and speak for him.”

The black wolf’s brow quickly furrowed but immediately relaxed almost imperceptibly. The pure white wolf sitting to his right growled threateningly, baring his teeth; I was sure the entire courtroom heard it.

“Murder is a public offense; what reason do you have to represent…” The black wolf paused, hesitation flashing in his yellow eyes. “...Richter?”

The white wolf’s fur stood on end after hearing the Admiral’s name, glaring at the black wolf, but the latter ignored it entirely.

“We are his pack,” José said, articulating each word clearly as if this were the most obvious thing.

Silence once again enveloped the entire courtroom, making everyone's breathing sound clearer. This time even the white wolf tucked away his teeth, but he still crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair with a look of disapproval.

"I think," the black wolf said softly, "this reason is quite sufficient."

He looked at the two sides of the gray wolves, seemingly seeking their opinions. I wasn't quite sure how the gray wolves reached a consensus, but it appeared that José's request was accepted.

The black wolf nodded to the phantom poodle and then sat down. Whatever that meant, the poodle directed the guards to escort José to a seat opposite Luther and Ian, and then asked the coyote to speak.

I imagined that most people in the room, like me, were completely clueless about what was happening, but I didn’t care because a flicker of hope ignited within me. I hadn’t expected this flamboyant coyote to actually make a difference at a critical moment.

So I listened intently to what José intended to say, even though I still didn’t understand any of the words the coyote uttered.

"…The Seventh Amendment of the Criminal Code, applicable to the General Principles of Military Law…" How did José have so much legal knowledge in his head? My mind began to spin again under the onslaught of meaningless numbers, but I did my best to stay focused. "…We request execution."

"The Seventh Amendment of the Criminal Code seems unnecessary in this situation, but there are precedents for its implementation," the poodle said, sequentially looking at the white gray wolf, who had previously spoken for the prosecution, and Ian. "Do the representatives on both sides object?"

The white wolf shrugged and did not object. Ian opened his mouth to speak, but after glancing at José for a few seconds, he sighed and shook his head gently.

Was this a good sign? What was the Seventh Amendment?

"Then the verdict is amended as follows: one hundred sixty lashes followed by hanging," this statement was surreal to the extent that it overflowed beyond what my tiny mind could bear, and I couldn’t confirm if I had misheard until the gavel's sound faded. "To be executed immediately."

What? I knew that even fifty lashes could kill a person; what kind of help was this? You flamboyant coyote, have you lost your mind?

I focused my gaze on José, hoping he had some kind of countermeasure or something. Besides that, I knew that if I saw the golden retriever’s smug, disgusting smile right now, I would be unable to restrain myself from charging over to strangle him—this wouldn’t help the situation at all—but to be honest, it couldn’t get any worse.

"Your Honor, under these circumstances, I also request the execution of the second appendix of the Seventh Amendment," José said again. Rationalism witness, I was beginning to miss the coyote’s casually crude remarks; I had truly heard enough of bills, regulations, and provisions today.

The poodle raised one eyebrow and glanced at the black wolf.

"By… you?" the black wolf tilted his head and asked José.

"Yes, esteemed librarian," the coyote lowered his ears and tail, looking at the ground and bowing to the black wolf. "Luther is still a member of the pack."

"Strictly speaking, that makes sense," the black wolf shrugged, ignoring the white wolf's disgruntled grumbling beside him, and exchanged glances with the poodle, who nodded.

"Then that will be the case." The poodle finally said, striking the gavel again. "The court is dismissed"!