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The land of Fontaine was built around the concept of Justice. Neuvillette was the Iudex, the chief Justice of the Court of Fontaine, and therefore one of the most respected figures of the nation. The only one who stood on par with him was Lady Furina, the Archon and goddess of the land.
His role as judge was to deliver judgement on cases presented to him, but his wasn’t the final verdict. The last call was left to the Oratrice Mécanique d’Analyse Cardinale, a machine of great complexity made by the Archon. It was shaped like a scale, a great symbol of Justice.
This law meant that Neuvillette’s judgement almost didn’t matter in the end, but his and the Oratrice’s had yet to differ once, even after four hundred years. Many marvelled over that fact and praised the Iudex’s sense of justice; because if he was always in agreement with a godly creation, then he must be right every time. Others called it a fraud and suspected that the Oratrice was built to always deliver the same judgement as his as a way to assert his authority. They were, thankfully for public order, still a small minority.
Neuvillette did not see it that way. To him, it was clear that the Oratrice had a mind of its own. He’d even go so far as to say that the Oratrice had its own consciousness. Sometimes, he could feel something stir within the machine; it felt distant, but it was most definitely there. He took his work very seriously and never delivered a verdict without thinking it through but he felt like the true nature of his job wasn’t that: it was to steer the debates in a direction that would reveal the truth of the case at hand. If the Oratrice was uneasy, he was to pry for more information. He’d called many a bluff when he felt the machine grow anxious.
His job was a constant cooperation with another party he could never meet, but who he felt like he knew inside and out, without ever exchanging a single word.
-----
Today was supposed to be a day like any other. Getting dressed and doing his hair often took an hour. A painfully long process, but one that was necessary. If the Chief Justice wasn’t properly dressed, that would say a lot about the state of the nation, and Fontaine was to appear as well-groomed as ever.
The Melusines brought his coffee and daily schedule to him in his office. As expected, he was being given the case that had been all the rage lately. A murder with no murder weapon found, and no witness account as far as the public was aware. The Maréchaussée Fantôme had found one and had since been searching high and low for even the smallest pieces of evidence left and had arrested a suspect just two days ago.
Fontainians were as fond of trials as they were of Operas and a seemingly impossible case such as this one had sparked their interest. Tickets to the trial had sold out nearly as soon as it was announced. Neuvillette could only sigh and wish the press had never caught wind of the affair. If it were left up to him, this trial would be closed to the public as he required focus and quiet to think things through properly. But the ever nosy -or reliable, depending on who you asked- ace journalist of the steam bird, Charlotte, had heard of it from two officers on a break, and the unfortunate men were not let off until they had answered all her questions.
Alas, what was done couldn’t be changed. He would treat this case like any other, with the same calm and seriousness he had always showed, although he couldn’t deny this was one he had followed more closely than most.
He left the Palais Mermonia early as to avoid crowds of curious Fontainians. He rarely took the Aquabus, as marvellous a creation as it was, for that same reason. He walked to a small harbour just outside the city walls; as always, he would reach the Opera House by boat.
Said boat was small, smaller that some fishing boats even, and extremely old. It was perfect to avoid being recognised as no one would expect the Chief Justice to own such an old and decrepit thing. While that was certainly one of the reasons why he’d kept it all this time, the main reason was that he didn’t have time and couldn’t be bothered with buying a new one. His old boat could still get him from point A to point B, and that was enough. He still remembered a time when ‘this old thing’ was revolutionary and a luxury.
He had been expecting a line in front of the Opera House given all tickets had been sold out, but this far exceeded his expectations. There were more people lined up around the Fontaine Lucine than usual. Many of them, if not most, wouldn’t be crossing the doors of the Opera House today. There would no doubt be an eavesdropper at the door to relay all that could be heard. The final verdict of cases was always made public and released in official bulletins, and yet these people simply could not wait until the next morning. He might have found it amusing if he didn’t have to find his way through the crowd. Hushed whispers formed all around him. People peered inside over his shoulders as the doors opened for him and him only; the public wouldn’t be let in for another thirty minutes. He scoffed; what were they expecting to see safe for the Opera House’s entry hall?
After a talk with the Melusine in charge of leading the investigation, Neuvillette was handed all the relevant documents. He already had a copy of them at the Palais and had studied them in great detail; but procedure was procedure and it ought to be followed.
He walked up the stairs to his seat. It was almost like a throne, on a balcony high above the stage, and in front of the Oratrice. It wasn’t the stage people would be looking at today, much like it wasn’t the Oratrice they looked at during opera performances.
He placed his gloved hand on the machine and closed his eyes. In the precious but short moment of quiet, when nothing but his own breathing could be heard in the room, Neuvillette could feel some form of energy press back against his hand. It wasn’t uncomfortable, yet it wasn’t warm either. Like water flowing inside of the large scales of justice and directing its course to him. Fitting.
He read the documents to the Oratrice, keeping his hand on it in the meantime. He would read them again for the public and as a starting point, but sharing them with the consciousness first felt right. It stirred beneath his hand when he finished and he could feel its uneasiness. A case with little evidence and a lot missing… He was fully prepared for the worst, which would be to leave the case unsolved. He’d sooner do that than send an innocent to the Fortresse of Méropide.
He sat in his assigned place, and saw Lady Furina enter her own personal balcony on the other side of the room. She shot him a cocky grin which he chose to ignore. As the Archon, she was owed respect, as draining as being in her presence was for him, but he’d rather not engage.
Soon after, the public was allowed into the Opera House, and the Maréchaussée struggled to keep the line in order. Neuvillette caressed the thought of calling for silence already, but decided to wait until everyone was sited and both parties of the case were present. Lady Furina waved at the public and smiled brightly. Her stage presence was most admirable.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of ruckus, he stood and hit the ground with his cane. The sound echoed in the room and silence fell over the audience. He kept a straight face but smiled internally.
- The accused and his lawyer may enter the room.
Two men entered the balcony on his left and all heads turned to them. One was dressed in a suit, with combed black hair, and he held his head up high. His name was Alan Boucher and he displayed calm and confidence, much unlike his client. The accused, François Besque, was quivering. He kept readjusting his glasses and seemed not to have shaved in a long while.
- The prosecution may enter.
A woman wearing a tight dress entered the balcony on his right. Justine Marker’s hair was brought up in a short ponytail and she looked just as calm as her defence counterpart, but her confidence felt more forced. After all, François was their only lead but the Maréchaussée had gathered too little evidence to prove that the accused was indeed guilty.
Neuvillette cleared his throat. The show had begun, as Lady Furina would say, and it was his role to make sure the performance went well.
- The case is as follows: the victim is Marc Besque, a Mecha manufacturer who had been about to expend his business and delve into the making of clockwork toys. He was found dead two weeks ago laying in blood in his bathroom and his wife Marine was found injured in their bedroom. The victim bore marks of a struggle and the cause of death was estimated to be a deep cut to his throat which bled profusely. The investigation has ruled out the possibility of a suicide. The weapon wasn’t found during the initial investigation. The prosecution may state her case.
Neuvillette sat down and turned to Miss Marker. She readjusted her glasses and anyone looking at her close enough would see the nervous breath she took to brace herself. She set her file down on the railing of her balcony and read the first of three pages. Neuvillette was used to cases where that same file would be much thicker.
- I wish to cover the question of the motive, first and foremost; she began. And to find one, we need only look at the victim’s family tree. You will have noticed that both the accused and the victim bear the same name. They are cousins, on their fathers’ side both. François’s father, as the eldest, was set to inherit the family business of clockwork Mecha manufacturing but Marc’s father being the most talented of the two was favoured in the will. Seeing how the family business was thriving thanks to Marc and knowing it should have been his, François has all the motive he needs.
- Family feud over inheritance? That’s such a cliché!
Neuvillette sent Mister Boucher a harsh glare and hit the ground with his cane again to order silence.
- A common motive for murder but a plausible one still. Unless you have a rebuttal you’d like to make?
- With your permission, I will state the facts as I know them. My client, mister François Besque, worked in his cousin’s factory and had a high paying job there, which he was planning to leave to pursue his passion of gardening. As proof, I present an application letter signed by the accused, sent three weeks before the murder.
- It could have been premeditated to be presented just as you’re doing now!
- So could every piece of evidence in such a case I’m afraid, Miss Marker.
- Very well. The motive presented by the persecution doesn’t hold up and is rejected by the court. In the absence of a convincing motive, the scales of justice tip on the non-guilty side.
Just as Neuvillette spoke those words, the Oratrice behind him creaked and he felt the same watery presence gather on one side: the machine’s scales leaned on the non-guilty side by a third of the way. That caused whispered debates in the audience; not loud enough yet for Neuvillette to intervene. Miss Marker watched with growing nerves and bit her fingernails.
- Even so! I have yet to share the reasons for mister François Besque’s arrest!
She flipped a page in her file. If each page only contained one statement, Neuvillette feared it would be a quick trial with an unsatisfactory end.
- He is the prime suspect in this case because of something Marine Besque shared with the Maréchaussée during the investigation. She had been in her bedroom, sorting through her clothes to decide what to wear the next day at a function when she heard the front door open. Her husband was already home, and the only people who have a spare key are the maid and François. Since Marc was close to expending the business, she assumed it was François visiting to discuss some last-minute complication and kept on going about her day. Only when she heard the commotion in the bathroom did she start to worry. She went in to check on the matter and found Marc already dead. Her husband’s assailant was masked and attacked her on sight. She got away with a gash in her leg and locked herself in her room. She opened her window and screamed for help, then heard her assailant flee.
She sent Mister Boucher a confident smirk, to which he answered with smugness. Neuvillette wondered whether they were acquainted or very invested in their ‘role’.
- Why did the suspicion fall on my client, exactly? I hope you’ve investigated the maid as well.
- Miss Besque would have noticed if her assailant was female.
To prove her point, the prosecutor crossed her arms just under her chest. Mister Boucher rolled his eyes in distaste.
- Very well, the maid is out of the question. What of the wife? Her story tells a nice tale, but have we considered that she may have been faking it?
- And how would she have done so?
- She very well may have killed her husband, disposed of the evidence and hurt herself to complete her sob story.
- The Maréchaussée found none of her husband’s blood on her, nor did they find the crime weapon. While that doesn’t invalidate your wild theory, what does is the state the body was in when the investigation began. It was determined that Marc Besque was killed very recently, and the blood had yet to dry. That doesn’t leave his wife a lot of time to cover up her tracks, now does it?
- The defence’s accusations towards Marine Besque are thus proven null and void. Mister Boucher, while doubt is reasonable, you ought to phrase it in a way that does not blatantly insult the witness’s integrity.
- My apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette.
Boucher gave a bow as an apology, which felt just as fake as his smile. The Oratrice changed its position and the scales now tipped two thirds of the way towards the guilty verdict. Neuvillette shared that opinion. Boucher winced.
- What about the murder weapon? Has it been found anywhere? Has Miss Besque identified what type of weapon it was?
- It was a knife and no, the Maréchaussée hasn’t been able to retrieve it. It is therefore likely that the accused disposed of it after he fled.
- That’s impossible because my client is terribly afraid of knifes.
- Pardon?
The audience didn’t seem convinced by that explanation, and Neuvillette wasn’t either. He stared at Boucher long enough for him to understand that he ought to explain.
- François here can’t get anywhere close to a knife without shivering.
- Yet he… builds heavily armed Mechas?
Neuvillette couldn’t help chiming in for once. This case, which was supposed to leave them stumped for a while at least, was proving to be rather easy and ridicule.
- Of course not! What I just said sounds ridiculous, well so does the idea that my client killed his cousin! The victim’s wife said her assailant was masked; how can you be sure it was my client?
- He alone had the key!
- You don’t need a key to open a door, you simply need lock picking skills!
- The lock showed no sign of having been picked!
- I believe that’s a look that can be achieved with enough skills!
Neuvillette was content listening to this debate to the end; it could very well be petty, but it could also lead them closer to the truth. The consciousness within the Oratrice didn’t feel the same way. He felt her nervousness - when had he decided it was a woman? - and he knew he had to intervene now. He turned directly to the accused, who had been nervously fidgeting. Remaining quiet while being charged with murder was not something that happened often.
- Mister Besque, would you answer a question for the court?
- Y… Yes sir!
Neuvillette squinted his eyes slightly. The man was so nervous, it almost sounded like eagerness.
- Do you have an alibi for the time of the murder?
- I’d share it, but the time of said murder hasn’t been disclosed yet and I’m afraid I don’t know it.
Neuvillette hummed. He had read through the files so many times that he forgot this wasn’t a well-known fact… or was it? He was nearly sure he read it in that Steam bird article, and nearly everyone in Fontaine read the Steam Bird.
- The victim was killed on the fourth day of autumn at eight in the evening. That was two weeks ago. Do you remember where you were then?
- I was on a hiking trip in the mountains north from here, between this place and the valley of the Fontaine Research institute, sir. I had requested a five-day leave from my cousin and got it approved; he must have the paperwork somewhere in his office still.
- Has the Maréchaussée found anything of the sort?
The officer his gaze landed on stiffened and his posture turned awkward. That was a tell-tale sign that it was the first time he’d heard of it.
- We haven’t thought to check those documents, Monsieur Neuvillette.
- Then go; the court proceedings are adjourned until you are done. Let us reconvene after a surely longer than usual recess.
The audience left the room in a great noise; debates were heated between them. The Oratrice replaced its scales so they weren’t weighing either way. From the way François was quivering when he answered, Neuvillette was prone to believe his alibi to be real, which would mean that they would lose their only lead in the matter.
The lawyer and prosecutor glared long and hard at one another, before both turning on their heels with a synchronized scoff. François Besque followed more hurriedly, nearly tripping over himself. Neuvillette caught a glimpse of Lady Furina’s face as she left the courtroom; she looked as troubled as he felt.
Then, he was finally alone with the Oratrice and turned to it. His earlier feeling that it had the consciousness of a woman was further confirmed when the same watery sensation gathered inside the machine in a distinctively woman shape. Perhaps because of his powers as the Hydro Dragon Sovereign he was the only one who could sense it.
- I wish, not for the first time, that we could efficiently communicate. You have once again turned the tide of a trial.
Was he overinterpreting things? He was the one to ask the question and yet, he felt like the Oratrice would have done the exact same thing. Perhaps he was only her voice. It was something he would have loved to pounder, but he knew he had no time to do so. He simply closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feeling of the water energy dancing within the machine, illusion as it may be.
-----
The court only reconvened the next day as the Maréchaussée investigated nearly every inch of the factory looking for the record of leaves, as well as any possible clue that may have been overlooked, as well as got a quick look at the door to make triple sure it hadn’t been picked.
- We have made two discoveries we would like to share.
A Melusine stepped forward to talk for her group of investigators. She looked even smaller than usual, down on the scene while Neuvillette sat high above her. He wished he could be closer as he loved Melusines and did not like the feeling of looking down on them, but lowering his seat and the Oratrice would require months of hard work, if not years, and would hinder performances.
- The first one is the document François Besque mentioned. We have indeed found a request for a five-day long leave to go hiking, and it was signed and approved by Marc Besque on the first day of autumn. It is therefore safe to assume that the accused was away while the murder happened.
The Oratrice’s response and Neuvillette’s opinion shifted at the same time, and heavily so. The scales of the Oratrice pointed all the way down the not guilty side, and Neuvillette felt quite the same. With a solid alibi and no real motive, the prosecution had clearly lost its case. How the matter of the alibi hadn’t been investigated previously concerned him, but maybe François Besque was too shocked and terrified to even think of mentioning it. Either way, the truth was now laid out for all to see, as it should be.
- Our second discovery came from inspecting the victim’s appartement again. I felt a draft of air although all windows were closed. Marine Besque shared that one window had been harder to close since the murder. Upon further inspection, we discovered that the window had been picked.
- So, what Miss Besque heard wasn’t the door but the window opening? Mister Boucher asked, clearly interested.
- But that’s impossible! They live in an apartment here in the court of Fontaine, on the third floor!
- If you’d let me finish, Miss Marker. The window in question is opened to a backyard to which only the building’s inhabitants, the landlord and the gardener have access. Ivy grows on that wall and up to the window that has been picked. A man from my team has tried climbing on them, average height and weight, and they held strong.
- And I presume you have investigated the neighbours, the landlord and the gardener, yes?
- Yes Monsieur Neuvillette, we have. On that day, the gardener’s schedule had him on the other side of the city, while the landlord was with his wife and kids all day. This time, we have got a warrant to inspect the neighbours’ apartments instead of a simple interrogation, and we have found a litre of a strong cleaning product said to wash away blood stains in one of the apartments. But although blood never truly disappears, even my heightened sense of smell couldn’t pick up on any in the apartment.
- Had it already been used?
- Yes Monsieur Neuvillette, the container had been opened and used at least once.
- But why would someone own and use a cleaning product and not keep any of what he tried to clean…
- … if not because the product didn’t work and they had to get rid of the evidence?
For once, Mister Boucher and Miss Marker shared a knowing look and a courteous nod. Neuvillette breathed a sigh of relief. In the end, even the two’s bickering had proved useful, and François Besque’s name was cleared. An investigation on said neighbour would need to be launched but for now, the trial of François Besque was over. He stood up, holding his cane elegantly in front of himself. He needed not ask for order as the court room fell silent.
- The Maréchaussée will be given enough time to investigate the matter and we shall hopefully know the truth behind Marc Besque’s murder in an upcoming trial. Concerning the charges held against François Besque, I can now deliver my verdict. In the case of Marc Besque’s murder, François Besque is not guilty.
He then fed the file he had been given on the first day to the Oratrice Mécanique d’Analyse Cardinale. It flashed blue and returned a blank sheet with two words written in a delicate hand writing.
Not guilty.
-----
Neuvillette stood outside, away from the Court of Fontaine and about an hour-long walk away from the road leading from the Aquabus station to the Opera House. It rained on him more strongly than it had before. Perhaps that was due to regaining his authority; his powers were more potent. Or maybe it was because his feelings were stronger, having lost a very old friend recently.
- Farewell, Neuvillette. I hope you enjoyed the part you played these past five hundred years. I have certainly enjoyed working with you.
He could still see the gracious danse he had felt time and time again, year after year, within the Oratrice. He’d only recently met her, but had known her far longer, and he’d carry her in his heart forever, the gentle graze of her fingers on his cheek as she brushed a strand of his hair back forever etched into his skin. It was both pleasant and maddening.
- So have I, Foçalors…