Chapter Text
The scales of justice tipped, groaning as the scales tipped towards the guilty verdict. “The defendant has been declared guilty, and this court is now adjourned.”, an authoritative voice declared, carrying over the hushed musings that rose from the pews. “Dismissed.” Wriothesley, broken out of his haze of exhaustion, raised his gaze to watch the Iudex level his chin and sweep his line of sight over the crowd of onlookers slowly trickling out. The defendant was being removed from the stand, his head bowed as the weight of his guilty sentence rested heavily on his shoulders.
The entire procession had congregated in front of the gilded Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, people dwarfed by the reminder of the ever-present instrument of justice. They weighed heavily to one side, indicating the overwhelming public conviction of Monsieur Garnier’s sentencing. The towering glass windows allowed streams of dusky light to wash over the garnet-red carpeting, a halo effect surrounding the stage - spotlit and waiting for the next demonstration of law.
The trial had spanned several hours, only prolonged by opportunistic lawyers drawing out recesses in an attempt to defend the ludicrous case. But the defendant had enough money to purchase the entire Opera Epiclese, so hiring lawyers that would bluff and draw out the bureaucracy of the case were practically a pittance. He fought the sneer that curled at his lip, a distaste for aristocracy only growing as the defendant snidely berated the court.
As though aware of the prisoner’s irreverence, the Chief Justice rose from his throne holding his cane, framed powerfully in gold and red. He swept down the stairs to meet the remaining group of lawyers and attendants waiting near the stage, cool expressionless face perusing the farcical act before him. Wriothesley rose with far less elegance, but marched towards the prisoner decisively, moving to instruct the guards to escort the prisoner to the Fortress of Meropide.
Wriothesley’s fingers drifted to his handcuffs present on his hip, cold metal a jarring reminder of his responsibilities. The Duke cautiously watched the prisoner as Wriothesley stood positioned behind his bejewelled shoulder: fine blue fabrics - golden thread and layers of expensive silks. Certainly not appropriate court attire, especially if you wished to be declared innocent for tax evasion crimes.
Pulled from his thoughts, Wriothesley listened to the surrounding conversations drifting among the remaining staff. The defendants lawyers were whispering furiously among themselves, clearly having just lost the largest payout of their career, while the Chief Justice spoke with the prosecution in measured tones. Wriothesley approached a guard, quietly confirming where the defendant would be taken.
“Yes, Duke Wriothesley. Lower security in the Fortress.” She stated, eyes never straying from the prisoner that fidgeted nervously - appearing ready to bolt at an opportune chance. “Thank you,” he replied lowly. “Please escort him, I will be otherwise occupied.” She nodded, motioning to the other guard to join her with practised efficiency.
Wriothesley moved away, advancing towards the Chief Justice, waiting for him to finish his conversation to gather the court documents. He had resigned to finishing the paperwork, knowing the reams of paper would be taking up his next few days. Best get it out of the way. As he strolled forwards, he smoothed his hand over the luxuriously stained wood, his leather gloves muffling the feeling of the polished finish.
He allowed their conversation to become background noise, gaze drifting to the ornate chandeliers that dripped gold from the ceiling. They sparked in the now-moonlight, scattering refractions of light over the darkened courtroom. The show was over, yet the Opera still had the atmosphere of a gaudy performance.
“Duke Wriothesley.” That same authoritative voice declared, quietened this time. Wriothesley nearly jumped, broken from his trance of exhaustion. The Chief Justice felt far less imposing face to face, yet his hands were neatly folded behind his back and effortless posture still gave the Iudex the air of untouchability. “Your Honour,” Wriothesley nodded in acknowledgement, attempting to look more put together than he felt. “I came to retrieve Monsieur Garnier’s arrest warrant, his proof of sentencing and other documents that will be necessary for his time in the Fortress of Meropide.”
“Of course, your grace. Allow me to gather them, and I shall arrange them to be transferred by tomorrow evening at the latest.” He said evenly, attentive eyes observing Wriothesley. The Duke nodded in appreciation, attempting to break the nearly uncomfortable eye contact. “Thank you, your honour. That will be all.” he said as hastily as was acceptable in polite company, and turned to leave.
“Your Grace.” the Iudex stated, raising Wriothesley’s hackles. “Yes, Chief Justice?” He said, plastering on a hopefully believably blank face. ”Send a letter to my office or inquire in person if the documents require any additions. I am able to review any of them if they require any signatories or assistance.”
The Duke stopped, unsure if the judge was extending an olive branch or was making a subtle jibe of his inexperience in his position. He decided to take it as the former, subtly scanning over the judge’s face - fine features betraying nothing. “Thank you, your honour. I shall take you up on your offer if it is required.” Wriothesley said reluctantly. A tiny smile formed on the Chief Justice’s face, only a softening of his chilly eyes and a tilt to his lips. It was so surprising, it nearly caused Wriothesley to still.
He instead spun on his heel and strode out of the gilded Opera Epiclese, glad for the relief of the cool evening air. The conflicting image of the illustrious Iudex and the indecipherable man he just spoke to had bothered him more than he had expected, and his stormy thoughts did not calm, despite the tranquil evening. It had rained: noticeable in the mirror-like puddles and slight chill. Wriothesley, side stepping a puddle, made such haste that he did not bother to make note of the rising moon over the Fountain of Lucine’s rippling waters.
Nor did he notice the scrutinising gaze of the Iudex that watched him depart.