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“Okay, okay, everyone! Listen!” exclaimed Flo—ever the leader—as she climbed atop an empty shell in one of the luminous caverns of Merusea Village. The soft glow of bioluminescent corals shimmered across her determined little face. “As you all know, we are gathered here to decide what we will gift to Monsieur Neuvillette… as a surprise.”
A chorus of delighted murmurs and bright little affirmations rippled through the gathered Melusines, their voices overlapping like the gentle lapping of water against stone.
“So…” Flo continued, placing her paws together with importance, “any ideas?”
For a fleeting moment, they exchanged glances—thoughtful, expectant, brimming with possibility.
Then, all at once, the calm shattered.
“Lumitoiles!”
“Law books!”
“Opera records!”
“A collection of waters!”
“A proper wedding!”
“The opportunity to obtain revenge from his enemies during a trial!”
Silence fell as abruptly as it had broken.
Paws lifted to chins. Heads tilted in unison. Slowly—very slowly—all eyes turned toward Virda, whose suggestion still seemed to echo faintly against the cavern walls.
“What?” she asked, placing a paw atop her head, unbothered. “I read somewhere that some adults enjoy that.”
“Laume,” Serene began, her tone dangerously calm, “what kind of magazines have you been lending her?” She cast a pointed look toward the pink Melusine, who suddenly found the ground far more interesting than usual.
“Hey! Don’t look at me like that!” Laume protested, straightening up at once. “I think she accidentally read one of my interview report practices!”
“Then who have you been practicing with?” another voice chimed in.
“And wouldn’t that situation already be his usual?” added a third.
“No way! Someone like Monsieur Neuvillette could not possibly have enemies he would want to judge,” another insisted, scandalized.
“Girls! Let’s focus!” Flo clapped her paws sharply, restoring order in an instant. “I was thinking we could give him something practical. Something useful. Still special, of course, but… perhaps less violent?”
Once again, the group fell into thoughtful silence, their expressions softening into collective consideration.
“Like another cane?” Puca suggested.
“Or something to wear?” Serene added gently.
“That’s it!” Flo’s eyes lit up, her voice ringing with triumph. “We should make him another suit!”
Gasps of delight spread like sparks. Excited giggles followed, light and bright as bubbles rising through water.
“Yes! We could make him an otter pajama!” Granna declared, pointing enthusiastically toward a playful otter rolling a shell along the shore nearby.
“No! A dragon costume would be better—like the good old days!” Virda countered, equally certain.
“Girls, according to my fashion magazines, dresses are easier to make,” Laume inserted wisely, paws planted on her hips.
“Hm… I think it would be better if we made him a respectable outfit,” Serene interjected, her voice calm yet firm. “Something he can proudly wear when he is out and about…”
“Yeah!”
“I like that!”
“But…” Puca tilted her head. “What does ‘respectable’ mean… in outfit terms?”
As if moved by a single thought, every head turned toward Laume.
“Oh! I know!” she exclaimed, visibly invigorated. “I’ll go fetch my most recent bundle of fashion magazines so we can gather proper inspiration!”
With that, she dashed off, disappearing into her abode in a flutter of pink.
The others remained gathered, their chatter softening into a warm, anticipatory hum. The very water around them seemed to shimmer with excitement at the thought of the judge’s reaction.
That tranquility, however, did not survive Laume’s return.
She reappeared beneath a towering stack of magazines—so tall it wobbled precariously above her head.
There were enough for each of them.
And so, like any group of particularly enthusiastic youths, they set to work—flipping pages, pointing eagerly, exchanging opinions with great seriousness. Snippets of fabric designs, silhouettes, and accessories were carefully cut and arranged, forming an ever-growing collage board that soon became a chaotic masterpiece of shared vision.
Time passed almost without notice.
When at last the board could hold no more, and the concept had taken shape, the Melusines—efficient as ever—quickly moved on to the next step.
“Okay, let’s summarize Phase One,” Flo announced, bringing her paws together over her chest with authority.
“Puca, Laume, and Virda—you will be our explorers, in charge of gathering materials! Look for fabrics, seashells, gemstones—oh! But don’t forget to consult Sigewinne about the ‘respectable’ part, just to be sure.”
“Yes, ma’am!” the three replied in perfect unison, immediately clustering together with determined energy.
“Serene,” Flo continued, turning toward her, “you will be in charge of emergency precautions, so nothing gets out of control.”
Serene nodded with quiet confidence, already jotting down notes with careful precision.
“And I,” Flo declared, lifting her chin, “will be in charge of the blueprints! I believe this collage has given me more than enough inspiration.”
“What about me?” Granna asked, blinking in mild confusion at being overlooked.
“I have the perfect mission for you, Granna,” Serene replied, her tone thoughtful, almost strategic. “You will be in charge of collecting Monsieur Neuvillette’s measurements.”
Granna paused.
“Huh? But… isn’t it a surprise?”
“It is,” Serene said smoothly. “However, since you are so confident in your abilities—enough as to pass the Marechaussee Phantom exam according to you—then surely you are the only one capable of obtaining his measurements… without alerting him.”
A quiet beat passed.
Then, as the weight of the challenge settled upon her shoulders—and with it, the silent expectations of everyone present—Granna straightened, determination flickering in her eyes.
How difficult could it be? she thought.
Surely Sedene knows exactly what I need…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Sedene’s calm, chiming voice reached Granna’s ears—and with it, the quiet, devastating collapse of all her carefully placed hopes.
It had only been a few hours since the Melusine assembly, yet Granna had taken her mission with utmost seriousness. Without delay, she had boarded the aquabus toward the Palais, determined to intercept Sedene the very moment her shift ended.
Surely—surely—if anyone knew…
“Come on, Sedene!” Granna insisted, pacing in small, urgent steps. “You work with him every day! You must know how big his back is… or his arms?”
Her voice carried a kind of earnest desperation, as though such information ought to exist plainly within Sedene’s mind, ready to be retrieved.
It did not.
“Oh! Hello, you two!”
The cheerful greeting arrived before its owner did. Liath, having spotted her sisters engaged in what appeared to be a most animated discussion within her patrol route, approached with a light, buoyant step.
“Are you perhaps—” she leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “—talking about the surprise for Monsieur Neuvillette?”
“Well, talking about it would be a kindness,” Sedene replied, her tone dry, though not unamused. “In my opinion, Granna seems to have mistaken my profession for that of a modiste… rather than a secretary.”
“I just thought you knew Monsieur Neuvillette’s measurements!” Granna protested, crossing her paws with quiet indignation.
“Oh?” Liath tilted her head thoughtfully. “Then why not ask Lady Furina? Was she not the one who designed Monsieur Neuvillette’s current suit?”
Granna gasped, eyes lighting up as though a revelation had descended from the heavens.
“You are a—”
“I am afraid that will not help you,” Sedene interjected gently, though there was a faint apology in her expression. “It is true—Lady Furina designed it, and I am certain she would know his measurements. However…”
“However?” Granna and Liath echoed in perfect unison, leaning in with palpable anticipation.
“One,” Sedene began, lifting a paw with quiet precision, “Lady Furina is currently out of town. You will not be able to consult her.”
A second paw joined the first.
“And two—the original modiste who crafted the garment…” She paused, ever so slightly. “Did so centuries ago.”
Granna deflated at once.
“Oh no… what am I supposed to do now?” she lamented, distress written plainly across her small form, from the droop of her ears to the slump of her shoulders.
Liath and Sedene exchanged a brief glance.
Then, as though moved by a shared, silent agreement, they stepped in.
“Okay, okay—let’s think,” Liath began, her voice steady with the confidence of someone already assembling a solution. “I believe I have an idea. However…” She glanced toward Sedene. “We will require your help—and your authorization.”
Sedene brought a paw to her chin, one brow lifting ever so slightly.
“Do go on.”
“We will not need to ask anyone for Monsieur Neuvillette’s measurements,” Liath explained, lowering her voice as though unveiling a grand strategy, “if we simply borrow one of his suits from his wardrobe. That way, the measurements will be precise… and up to date.”
A beat of silence—
Then—
“Liath! You are a genius!” Granna exclaimed, throwing her arms around her sister in an enthusiastic embrace. Yet, as quickly as her excitement rose, it faltered. “But… how are we supposed to enter his room without him noticing? He is a dragon, after all. His instincts are very sharp…”
“Oh! You are right…” Liath blinked, her earlier confidence softening as realization settled in. “I had not considered that.” She tapped her chin lightly, thinking. “And I suspect it has only worsened with Lady Furina away. I have seen the lights in his office burning late into the night… Oh! And yesterday, he seemed quite exhausted—he called me Sedile by accident.”
That did it.
The two Melusines sank into shared despair.
How could they possibly overcome that?
“…I may have a solution.”
Sedene, who had remained suspiciously quiet, finally spoke.
Though her tone was composed, there lingered a trace of internal conflict beneath it.
“Even if I feel… somewhat conflicted about permitting additional individuals into Monsieur Neuvillette’s private quarters,” she admitted, “I also recognize that it is you, and that your intentions are… commendable. So…”
“Sooo?” Granna and Liath prompted together, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Sedene sighed—softly, but decisively.
“In three days’ time, at precisely midnight, we will drink a special concoction prepared by Sigewinne. It will mask our scent. Afterward, we will enter his room, retrieve the necessary garments… and depart without incident.”
She leaned in closer, drawing them into a small, inconspicuous huddle—three sisters simply sharing a quiet moment before the Palais.
“As you mentioned, Liath, Monsieur Neuvillette has not been resting well. He is quite exhausted. However, in three days, Lady Furina will have returned to Fontaine.” Sedene paused briefly, choosing her words with care. “Whether he chooses to rest in his own chambers… or at her residence, he will, without doubt, be sleeping deeply.”
“Perfect!” Liath brightened at once. “That way, even if he is present, with our scent concealed and his exhaustion at its peak, this will be the perfect opportunity.”
She turned to Granna.
“Does that timing align with your preparations?”
“It’s perfect!” Granna beamed, relief and excitement blooming all at once. “That will give Flo enough time to finish the blueprints—and the others to gather at least half of the materials!”
“And it will allow me sufficient time to pay a visit to our favorite nurse,” Liath added, her tone dipping once more into playful conspiracy.
Sedene gave a small, resigned nod.
“Very well, then. In three days’ time…”
A pause—just long enough for the weight of what they were planning to settle.
“…we shall proceed with the illicit operation.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Ugh… this tastes funny,” Granna whispered, staring suspiciously at the tiny empty vial resting on her paw.
“Shh, Granna! We are not supposed to attract attention, remember?” Liath replied in a hushed tone, guiding their small group toward the elevator in the residential wing of the Palais Mermonia. Then, lowering her voice further, she added, “Are you sure he is out, Sedene?”
The ginger Melusine did not answer immediately.
She was too busy glancing left, then right, then left again, her entire posture taut with vigilance as they stepped into the elevator.
“Sedene?” Liath prompted.
“Oh—yes! I believe so,” Sedene replied at last, straightening quickly. “He sent me to collect an entire sixteen-slices-a-day cake. A whole one. That is usually when he goes to visit… a certain lady down the street.”
“OoOoOh—”
The other two dissolved into soft, knowing giggles, barely contained behind their paws.
Din.
The elevator doors opened.
Sedene cleared her throat, composure returning at once. “Now, girls—it is time. Please remember to be adequately stealthy.”
“Follow me!” Liath whispered, already striking a determined pose.
Together, they slipped into the corridor, their small steps careful and deliberate as they approached the Chief Justice’s door.
With practiced precision, Sedene produced a small key from her pocket—one kept strictly for emergencies—and eased the door open.
A single lamp cast a soft, golden glow from beside the sofa.
It was enough.
From the threshold, they could see the living room, the dining table, and the kitchenette—each space impeccably tidy. No stray cups. No scattered papers. Not even the faintest suggestion of recent activity.
No one was home.
Confidence, fragile but growing, settled among them.
Without a word, they advanced toward the main bedroom.
At the door, Liath turned, raising her paw in silent command.
1… 2… 3!
The door creaked open.
Darkness greeted them.
Heavy curtains veiled the tall windows that overlooked the court, swallowing what little light might have entered. Only the faint glow from the hallway slipped inside, stretching long shadows across the room.
At first glance, something felt… different.
Not disorder—never that. This was still the room of a man of immaculate habits.
But here and there, small traces lingered. Objects slightly displaced. Signs of use. Of routines quietly interrupted—of things left open, or set aside in places just a little too unusual to be accidental.
Small details that revealed, in quiet fragments, pieces of the Iudex’s personality—things most were simply not accustomed to seeing.
“Puff— I never thought someone like him would have idol posters,” Granna whispered, barely containing her delight as she pointed toward the wall above a desk.
There, illuminated just enough to recognize, were several posters.
Each featured the same unmistakable figure—Fontaine’s most celebrated performer—in a variety of dramatic roles.
“Of course not,” Sedene murmured, cautious even now. “But those are… exceptions.”
“Shh! We are going in,” Liath insisted.
One by one, they stepped inside.
Fortunately, the wardrobe stood only a few paces from the desk, its polished doors catching just enough light to guide them.
They had barely crossed half the distance when—
A heavy sigh cut through the silence.
Clear.
Deep.
Alive.
They froze.
Every muscle stilled.
Granna, positioned at the back, was urgently urged—through a flurry of frantic gestures—to turn around.
Slowly, trembling from head to toe, she did.
The darkness resisted her at first.
Shapes blurred together—low silhouettes along the floor, and what seemed to be small plant pots resting atop a nearby surface, their outlines softened by the dim light…
Then—
The large bed.
And upon it—
A broad, scaled back.
Rising.
Falling.
Breathing.
A small gasp escaped her.
At once, Liath and Sedene moved beside her, placing themselves between her and whatever she had seen—
Only to find, just as expected—
The Chief Justice.
Collapsed face-down across the bed, utterly unmoving. One arm tucked beneath him, his head turned away. A cascade of white hair—and the faint outline of his antennae—spilled across the pillows.
“Ha… just as I told you,” Liath whispered, barely containing her triumph.
“…Let us proceed quickly,” Sedene added, though a faint lightheadedness had begun to creep into her voice. “Before he does truly awaken.”
They reached the wardrobe.
Carefully—very carefully—they opened its doors, wincing at even the faintest suggestion of a creak.
A set of elegant navy-blue garments was quickly selected and folded into their bag with utmost care.
And then—
Click.
A light flickered on from the bedside table.
The three Melusines vanished behind the wardrobe door in an instant.
Silence.
Then—
“Hmpf.”
A soft sound.
Not a threat.
Not a warning.
Something… closer to a stifled laugh.
They exchanged glances.
Confused.
Slowly—hesitantly—they peeked out, one after another.
And there—
Propped against the pillows, half-hidden beneath a truly impressive amount of white hair—
Was Lady Furina.
Her pale right arm stretched lazily toward the lamp she had just switched on, her expression faintly flushed and unmistakably amused.
Below her—
Or rather, on top of her—
Lay the Chief Justice himself, fast asleep, his head resting squarely against her chest, his entire weight seemingly draped over her like a very large, very dignified presence she had long since grown used to.
No wonder they had not seen her.
The “shapes” on the floor resolved themselves at last—shoes, a hat, a coat carelessly abandoned. The “plant pots” revealed their true nature: bottles of water, clustered beside an open box containing what remained of a sixteen-slices-a-day cake.
Furina met their stunned expressions.
Then, placing a finger gently against her lips—
She winked.
Permission granted.
Relief—and delight—sparked instantly.
They smiled. Waved.
Furina, barely restraining her laughter, waved back with equal enthusiasm, her nose scrunching ever so slightly in the effort.
Then, as if to aid their mission, her free hand drifted into Neuvillette’s hair.
She began to pet him.
Softly.
Slowly.
A deep, resonant purr filled the room.
Loud.
Steady.
Perfect.
Any sound the Melusines might make vanished beneath it.
Their work became Swift and efficient.
Almost… professional.
With the final garments secured, Furina gently turned off the lamp once more, settling back beneath the sleeping dragon as though nothing had ever occurred.
The Melusines slipped out just as quietly as they had entered.
Victory in every step.
“Oof—!” Granna stumbled as her dress caught on something unseen.
“Careful, Granna—come on!” Liath urged softly from the doorway.
Moments later, the three reunited inside the elevator, breathless and glowing with triumph.
“I cannot believe we made it,” Liath whispered, equal parts disbelief and pride.
“Thank the cakes Lady Furina was there too,” Granna replied knowingly. “I did suggest we give Monsieur Neuvillette a wedding for a reason.”
“Oh, you!” Sedene chuckled, pulling her into a relieved hug. The tension finally began to melt from her shoulders. “Oh?”
“Oh?” the other two echoed, blinking.
Instead of answering, Sedene gently turned Granna around, lifting a strand of her blue hair.
There—
A missing button.
“Oh! You lost one,” Liath noted, tilting her head. “Was it when we were leaving?”
“I… dunno,” Granna admitted. “My dress did get caught, but I do not remember if it was already like that…”
A pause.
A glance.
And then—
Laughter.
Soft at first, then growing—bright and unrestrained at the sheer absurdity of it all.
“Well,” Sedene said at last, patting Granna’s head fondly, “I do not believe it matters.”
“Our mission is accomplished.”
“Please—please tell me his reaction when you give him the gift!” Liath added eagerly as they stepped out of the elevator. “I will likely miss it due to work, but I must know!”
“Of course!” Granna beamed. “I will make sure not to miss a single second!”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“That would be amazing! And it will be even better if you can take more pictures this time!” Laume exclaimed, practically glowing with excitement.
“Consider it done,” Monsieur Neuvillette replied.
He stood before them in his new suit—impeccable as ever, yet now touched by something softer. Something warmer. It fit him perfectly, as though it had always belonged to him.
Everything had gone wonderfully.
With the Traveler—Lumine—by their side, things had unfolded even more smoothly than expected. And now, they even met a new sister.
Pashiv.
The thought alone made Granna beam.
She could hardly wait to tell Liath and Sedene everything.
The only thing she regretted, however—
“Granna? Could we talk for a moment before I leave?”
Lumine’s voice drew her aside, gesturing gently toward the shore, where the water lapped quietly against the stone.
Neuvillette’s gaze flickered in their direction for the briefest of moments, but he was soon swept back into the eager chatter of the other Melusines.
“Yes? What is it?” Granna asked, tilting her head, a paw resting thoughtfully beneath her chin.
“It is about your earlier request—do you remember?” Lumine began.
At the unmistakable look of confusion on Granna’s face, she let out a soft laugh.
“When we left the Palais, there was a short pause before Monsieur Neuvillette finished settling a few matters before dinner. You asked me to go and fetch Furina—to invite her as well.”
“Oooh! Right!” Granna brightened instantly. “I remember now! What happened? Was she busy?”
“She was,” Lumine nodded. “She was out with her troupe, gathering materials for a new production.”
Then, with a small, knowing smile, she reached into her pocket—producing a neatly folded letter.
“However… she asked me to deliver this to you.”
On its front, written in elegant, flowing calligraphy, were the words:
To Granna.
“I promise I did not peek,” Lumine added lightly as Granna accepted it with eager paws.
With a fond pat to her head, she stepped back. “Well, my task here is complete. I will see you around.”
And with that, she was gone.
Granna wasted no time.
She carefully unfolded the letter—and immediately gasped.
There, secured neatly with a strip of tape, was her missing button.
Her eyes lit up.
And with growing excitement, she began to read:
“Dearest Granna,
I am terribly sorry I could not attend tonight’s dinner :(
I have no doubt it was as delightful as the gift you so thoughtfully prepared for my dear Chief Justice. I am certain he must feel deeply grateful—much like any human parent would, upon receiving something crafted with such earnest love.
I have also taken the liberty of returning a small item I happened to find in his chambers the other day. Do not worry—he remains entirely unaware that the three of you paid him a visit that night. Let us keep that as our little secret. ;)
However… I do have a request of my own.
I would very much like to commission two dresses, made by Melusine hands, to match Monsieur Neuvillette’s new attire.
One shall be for myself.
The second… will come in handy in about six months’ time. For a very special new addition—one I am very much looking forward to meeting—who will require something just as lovely, only… much smaller.
So tell me—would you and your sisters be willing to assist me with this surprise as well?
With love,
Furina.”