"Sir Pablo! There must be a secret tunnel or chamber beneath Heim Fortress! Hel must have gotten word ahead of time before you arrived and secretly moved that witch away.
Otherwise, why else would the water-vein detection array beneath Heim's chapel have gone off?"
Brenda—no, Brenda Mandrake—rushed to lay out her case. But Sir Pablo's face darkened.
What she said was technically true.
On their way to Heim Territory, his team had indeed received an alert from the underground water-vein detection array.
But the timing of that alert was… strange.
Brenda had reported Hel the day before, and they mobilized the next morning.
Yet the array had only triggered the day before they surrounded the city.
Anyone could tell there was something suspicious about that.
Perhaps, once Hel's guilt was confirmed, they could record the array's warning as supporting evidence.
But mentioning it now—right when the case was teetering—only made it more doubtful.
If Hel noticed the inconsistency and started digging, even the Holy Judgment Knight squad might have to take the fall.
Thankfully for Pablo, Hel didn't know any of that.
Her attention was fixed entirely on one phrase Brenda had uttered—
"There's a secret passage beneath Heim."
The underground refuge beneath Heim Fortress wasn't a secret.
And the tunnel that led to the goblin ruins was connected to that refuge.
Even though Hel believed she'd hidden the entrance well, repeated investigation could still expose it.
If someone really found that tunnel… that would be bad.
A cold gleam flickered in Hel's eyes.
"Sister Pamela, I remember you telling me earlier that witch's blood is extremely rare, isn't that right?"
Everyone froze, even Brenda, who had been flailing on the ground moments before.
They couldn't understand why Hel was bringing that up now, but Sister Pamela still answered patiently.
"Yes. Witch's blood is classified by the Church as an S-class forbidden substance.
Without the Church's authorization, no one may own or use it for any reason.
Anyone caught with it will be prosecuted by the Church.
In fact, across the entire continent, only kings have the authority to even access witch's blood—most people don't even know what it truly is."
"I see… so that's how it is," Hel murmured.
Then she looked at Brenda Mandrake, her face calm but her tone edged with steel.
"In that case, I'm quite curious—how did the Duchess of Mandrake, a small, provincial noble, come into possession of witch's blood?"
"I didn't! That so-called witch's blood and your accusations are just lies you made up to frame me!
The real witch must have been hidden away by you!
Sir Pablo, you don't want to just let that witch escape, do you? Arrest him now! Once he's captured, a bit of interrogation will make him confess!"
But Sir Pablo simply turned away, unwilling to meet her eyes.
A seasoned schemer like him would happily step on Hel's neck if she fell—but now that the situation had reversed, he had no desire to stick his neck out for Brenda.
Hel's voice remained steady.
"A duchess getting her hands on a forbidden substance like witch's blood… there are only a few explanations for that.
Either you have a very close relationship with a witch—"
Before Hel could finish, Brenda exploded in outrage.
"How dare you! How could I possibly know a witch?"
But she didn't realize that the flicker of guilt in her eyes had already been caught by Hel.
So that's it, Hel thought. There's another witch behind her.
Hel didn't expose that thought aloud. She continued smoothly:
"—Or perhaps a certain king gave you the witch's blood. In that case, you're just a pawn. The real mastermind would be that king."
At that, Brenda shuddered.
If she admitted that a witch had given it to her, she might still survive.
But if she dragged the Third Princess into this, she was finished.
She quickly denied it:
"That's even more ridiculous! Why would any king bother plotting against a minor count like you? You're not worth the effort!"
"In that case," Hel said softly, crouching down in front of her, smiling pleasantly—though to Brenda, those white teeth looked like a demon's fangs—
"there's only one possibility left."
"Lady Brenda Mandrake… you are a witch yourself, aren't you?"
Gasps rippled through the room. Everyone was stunned by Hel's bold accusation.
But almost immediately, they dismissed it as absurd.
What kind of witch would be stupid enough to expose herself just to frame someone else?
If Brenda were truly a witch, wouldn't it be easier to stay hidden, grow stronger, and kill Hel in secret?
A fully grown witch feared no one but the Church itself.
Even Brenda was shocked for a few seconds before she burst into mocking laughter.
"You filthy half-breed—have you lost your mind? What gives you the nerve to call me a witch?
Do you think everyone's as stupid as you are? If I were a witch, would I be wasting time reporting you instead of hiding?"
"Perhaps," Hel said coolly, "that's what jealousy does."
Without listening to her anymore, Hel grabbed Brenda by the collar and dragged her toward the glowing cross.
"Whether you're a witch or not," Hel said coldly, "isn't for you to decide.
We'll let the test tell us."