Chapter Text
Neuvillette was not thinking about much when Sedene handed him the files for the next trial, the previous trial concerning a serial kidnapper played too strong on his mind. I mean the man was faced with his crimes head on and still tried to deny his guilt.
Sickening.
But that belief instantly changed when he opened the file and saw the photo of a girl, a very young girl.
She has not even reached the age of maturity for humans. He thought incredulously. Skimming through the rest of the papers he was greeted with another surprise and not a very good one at that.
Homicide… of a family member, her mother?
Neuvillette can admit that human emotions are difficult to understand, but in the past five centuries he was under the notion that he began to hold a decent understanding of them. He began to feel how humans feel but this- this he could not fathom.
The day of the trial approached and Neuvillette still could not understand.
Humans hold strong emotional connections in regards to blood ties, they see it is a contract of trust and affection. Was that contract breached somehow? If it was, how and why?
Neuvillette could not see why a human child would commit such an act. His brows furrowed, in frustration and bewilderment, as he recalled the details of the case.
Called in by neighbor concerned about shouts coming from the residence, upon arrival the guard poodle barked and growled at the door, signaling it has scented blood. Me and two other guards on the scene opened the door cautiously to find the body of the mother lying on the floor in the foyer with the attacker standing over her with a bloody knife in her hands. At first we wondered if an accident had happened seeing as the girl was crying, and was just a child. But when we entered the residence, the child started screaming about "realizing the truth" and that "everything was her fault" (we assume this meant the mother). When we approached the girl further, she held up the knife and told us to "back off or you're next". We realized we were dealing with an armed criminal, albeit a young one, we managed to unarm her and pin her down to cuff her. She would not stop screaming about how, again, she has "realized the truth" and that its "everyone else's fault". We suspect mental disorder.
There was more in the report that the Iudex had to steel himself for, including the autopsy of the body showing multiple stab wounds and a few "deliberate" cuts along the back. Seldom do grown humans have the ability for such cruelty.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was debating on what decision to make in regards to calling Wriothesley to this particular trial, a part of him did not want to believe in the words he had read in that report, another part of him wanted the sinner quickly put behind bars and handled appropriately.
The former version of himself was winning as he wrote to The Duke, flashing back to the one time he had visited Meropide on official business and the man had stepped in front of him as a prisoner rushed towards Neuvillette in a fit of anger. Why do I fail to get that ridiculously mundane moment out of my mind?
No matter, he had just sent word to The Duke that this trial will mostly likely end in the defendant going to Meropide for their sentence, it is not as if he had to rewrite said letter a few times over as he continuously desired to include very unnecessary information about his day-to-day life. (Oh but how the dragon relished in the letter he received back when he did just that a few weeks prior, its now on his nightstand)
As such aside, he was walking up to his seat atop the Oratrice, a slight curiosity plagued his thoughts, wondering if maybe there actually was some kind of… No. He stopped himself, he always knew he was slightly soft on the young of humans, they remind him of the Melusine's in a way. This- this child had committed a grave sin, the life of a human being is preciously short lived and for one to cut that even shorter should never be forgiven.
He looked onwards as the doors to the Opera Epiclese opened and the sinner walked through, flanked by two guards. The child was cuffed and she walked with an inconsistent limp.
It took a moment for the Iudex to realize but he was hearing a strange humming coming from the child, though he would quickly notice the child was not actually making such sounds seeing as neither the guards around her nor the people she has walked by have shown any indication of hearing such an out of place sound.
Then he recognizes the noise and his brows furrow slightly, though he quickly fixes this.
And as the girl and the guards reach the defendant box he begins the trial as routine.
“… and as such, how do you, Brielle Lamar, plead?
A moment of silence before she responds, “Guilty, Y-your Honor.”
Murmurs in the crowd wondering why she has fear now, and where was it when she was committing such a heinous crime. He waits for the audiences' noise to die down and then looks the child in the eyes. Neuvillette almost wanted to ask her himself why, swiftly realizing he was out or line, as that was a selfish desire and this was a trial to be overseen by the nation.
“If that is how you plead, the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale will now pass its judgment.”
A glow emanated from the scales beneath him, spreading to the rest of the Opera Epiclese, a verdict ejected from the slit in the machine at his feet.
He reads it and a breath escapes his lips,
“According to the Judgment of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, Brielle Lamar is-
Guilty”
The little girl on the stands flinches at the word, as if she had not just plead to it herself moments ago, The Iudex absentmindedly wonder the reason, yet again, maybe human emotions were far too complex for Neuvillette to ever comprehend them.
The guards grab the girl by the shoulder, almost pushing her down as they take her away to be put into Meropide, probably for a very, very long time.
Neuvillette has a feeling he cannot identify pools inside of him, he tries to push it back but it seems to be a very stubborn emotion.
As he lays down on his bed in his home hours later, he relents and lets himself feel.
She's just a child, hardly more than a decade into her life. Human lives are indeed such a short thing.
He turns to the side and drifts into an uncomfortable sleep.
The looks. All their eyes. They know nothing. Not a single one of them knows anything. Nothing. It's all her fault! Her fault!
“Ah, The Duke of Meropide,” the Guards bow and show their respects, “we have another one for you to… take care of.” A gaze full of venom, that's how the two guards looked upon this girl, whose head hung so low the Duke was worried her neck would snap.
The Duke was conflicted, on one hand he hated scum that committed acts like this girl. The act of killing someone was such a sinful act, one that required the person not to feel a bit of humanity to carry out… But… on the other hand he saw a bit of himself on her for some odd reason. While she was up on the stand, he recognized the look in her eyes as she spoke her plea.
Like a cornered animal who knows where to bite.
“I'll be taking her from here.” The guards bowed once more and turned on their heels. The Duke looked down at the girl, who was now looking at those guards with such anger and reciprocated venom that he flinched at the sight.
Just what… has happened to this child?
Just when Wriothesley dares to think about having a peaceful day, he always seems to be rewarded with the most chaotic, paperwork-filled, headache-inducing day of his career. It's not even time for the prisoners to wake up yet.
“Sir, its her again, she's-” He curses himself, he had just gotten into his uniform, dammit.
“Don't even bother finishing, I'm getting fucking tired of this.” He tests his gauntlets, good, they work. “Handle that shit," Wriothesley points, almost sheepishly, towards the pile of documents, "I'll probably be a while.”
“Huh? Wait- But, Sir!-”
Wriothesley was already out the door before the poor informant could get a word in to refute.
This fucking brat, you better be fuckin’ ready for a-
He rounds the corner that leads to the persecutors room, only to find said persecutor nowhere to be seen.
I swear to the Seven Archons above-
He walked into the cell, ready to fight if she pounced on him, or at least he thought he would be ready. Who would expect him to realize that she was on the damn ceiling.
-Ack!-
The girl had launched her entire weight and then some right onto his neck, momentarily stunning him. But before the girl could make a break for it, he grabs her ankles and stands up, slightly wobbling.
“Ugh… you shitty brat, my neck already hurts from hours of office work.” he sighs, rubbing his poor neck, “what is up with you and your love for causing trouble, huh?”
He lifts the girl so he could look her in the eyes, only to see her face distorted in extreme pain.
“Huh? Whats-” he catches a glimpse of red staining her shoulder disappearing towards her back. He puts her down and quickly lifts the back of the child's shirt.
Archons above…