In all his years, Judge Gunther hadn't hated his job more than at this moment.
They told him nothing of this case. That wasn't out of the norm, since it happened once in a while for the integrity of the trial. But they didn't even tell him what kind of case it was. Didn't tell him how many witnesses, how many people that wanted to press charges, didn't even tell him when the trial was going to happen until yesterday afternoon, didn't even have him be the one to help swear in the jury.
No, that had to be done by another one of his colleagues. And after that, he wasn't even allowed to talk to that judge. By orders of King Sigurd himself.
None of it sat well with him.
And it made more sense the moment he entered, catching Prince Hans's gaze right when the bailiff called for everyone to rise. The prince was sitting in the defendant's seat. The papers at the judge's desk had in pristine calligraphy what the trial was about.
Obstruction of justice. Murder. Attempted regicide. Magician.
The rumors... they were true, weren't they?
Why, oh, why was he the one to be the judge for this trial?
Gunther called for everyone to be seated. Off into the distance were the king and queen and all the other princes. King Sigurd embodied the idealized stoic leader that the Southern Isles respected and admired. The queen, in contrast, had her face buried in her husband's shoulder, her slight frame shaking as she sobbed into the king's garment. The eleven other princes encompassed the monarchs like a legion of statues of varying degrees between the king's stoicism and the queen's despair.
Hans nodded to him. Acknowledgment. Not pleading. Not fear. Respect. With that gesture, he knew Hans was the one who requested that the king pull strings to have Gunther be the judge of his own trial, one that could very well end up in the prince's execution. He pulled strings because outside of that, Gunther was too close to the trial on a personal level.
That was when Gunther hated his job.
He relaxed his shoulders and distanced himself from the trial's proceedings, trying to keep his impartiality that he'd come to be famous for. It was justice above everything. Hans deserved a proper trial, as well as the... victims.
The queen and princess of Arendelle. Viktor. The entire Southern Isles. The magnitude of this trial was not lost on him. Its effects were likely to be much more far-reaching than he'd ever imagine; an invisible weight from an invisible hand that threatened to crush him in front of everyone in the courtroom. He wanted to do much more. He wanted to give everyone what they deserved, to be that person who represented justice when it was hard to find any. Instead, he did what he always did. He just went through the motions.
For a moment, he could fool himself into doing just that and believing that this was just one of the hundreds of other cases that he'd had to oversee and mediate through the years. He called the witnesses to the stand, pretending that they weren't the royalty they were. It was harder when it was the king's turn, but he miraculously still found it in himself to keep the trial going as it should. It helped to imagine the king to be any other old father forced to testify against their own child. Even more so when the king's stoicism faltered just like any other broken head-of-home coming to terms of what was unfolding in court.
It wasn't until it came time to address the defendant's advocate where he finally looked up from his papers and saw that there wasn't one.
"The defendant has chosen not to have an advocate?" Gunther asked.
"Yes, Your Honor," Prince Hans said, staring straight at him, giving him a look that he'd seen before years ago. It was an expression that cycled through various emotions almost too imperceptible to read, but this time, instead of landing on disappointment at failing a mental test, the prince closed his eyes in defeat. Or was it acceptance?
Old words that had stuck with him for so long, not knowing what Prince Hans meant by them. "…you wouldn't think twice about having me executed if I ever were guilty of anything."
It was this. This moment. The prince had known all along that this moment was coming, and in his own secretive way, had tried to warn him. And the prince's thoughts on it? Show no mercy.
Prince Hans was right. Judge Gunther was not known to be merciful, not when it would come in the way of justice.
"Then you are your own advocate," Gunther said.
"Correct, Your Honor," Prince Hans replied.
"You may make a statement on these charges against you at this time."
Prince Hans nodded and stood from his seat, proud despite the weariness on his face, with his head held high. He turned slightly to project his voice to the crowd, but mainly directed his statements to Gunther. "I, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, plead guilty to all the charges against me. My motives were all related to being a magician. I murdered Viktor on my twenty-first birthday with a sound mind. I attempted regicide on the queen and princess of Arendelle with a sound mind. I had hid my powers and had evaded the mandate to be put into an institution with a sound mind. If there is any doubt that I was not aware and capable of knowing the crimes that I had committed, cast that doubt aside because I am unquestioningly guilty of these crimes."
A silence hummed throughout the room. The judge nodded to him. Prince Hans sat back down. Gunther flipped to his next set of documents to read aloud.
"Because of the nature of the defendant," Gunther said. "It must be made public knowledge of the kind of magic involved if further charges may be made against him." He found the line on the page in front of him. "It says here that your magic is of… mirrors? Could you elaborate?"
"Anything a mirror can do, I can do it," Hans said, his earlier show of pride gone as he spoke into the table in front of himself. "Reflect light, even manipulate it to some extent, possibly more but I haven't dared try it. And anywhere a mirror is, I can see through it. It is how I could find those magicians and turn them in. While I know my word means nothing, I did not abuse my abilities to invade on people's privacy if it wasn't related to finding other magic-wielders."
That was how Prince Hans did it? All those cases, all those magicians and sorcerers that he'd seen grace this very courtroom that Prince Hans had secretly had a hand in for all these years… The charges against him were only the tip of the iceberg. And to have possibly been under the prince's surveillance this whole time? Including others without their knowledge? Far-reaching effects indeed.
"Because you have pleaded guilty," Gunther said. "I hereby sentence you to public execution for your crimes. For preparation purposes, you will be held in the asylum until a decision on the execution method is decided."
Gunther picked up his gavel and pounded it once, its crack echoing through the chamber.
Prince Hans looked up then, his eyes filled with tears as he nodded once. He mouthed a minute "thank you" before a throng of guards escorted him under the sudden cacophony of jeers and outcries from the audience. Gunther pounded his gavel repetitively, trying to keep order in the courtroom. It wasn't until someone had tried to grab through the wall of guards at the convicted prince where he knew that any chance at regaining order was lost. That one action ignited the crowd. More guards rushed in to escort the royal family away while the others tried to prevent the mob from killing Prince Hans then and there.
Gunther shook his head and left his podium, making a quick escape from the chaos that was desecrating the place where order and justice were supposed to exist. Instead, he found none. Gunther slipped through a door that led directly to his private office and locked it, the sounds of guards trying to bring peace muffled through the walls.
Gunther tossed his wig to the floor and tore off his robe, half-heartedly attempting to throw it onto the coat rack where it belonged and failing. He sat at his desk and rubbed his temples. Maybe it was time to retire. Sure, he still had many good years left, but after a trial like this, he wouldn't be able to look at himself in a mirror ever again.
He flicked his attention to the mirror on his wall. He grabbed the nearest heavy object, a small wooden placard on his desk that was given to him after his first year as a judge and threw it as hard as he could at the framed glass. It shattered and rocked on the peg that held it on the wall before it fell to the ground, shattering further into more pieces.
All those trials to lock people away or to have them executed… All of them were sullied. He had acted by serving justice, but was it really justice when the means to build those cases were illegal in the first place?
Yes, perhaps he should take an early retirement.
Gunther sighed and rubbed his temples, staring at the letters, scrolls, and other documents piled on his desk. He had half a mind to push all of it onto the floor but decided against it because his office was already a mess. He flinched and nearly toppled his seat over when there was a knock at the main door and he stood abruptly. He made his way over, taking care not to step on the broken glass, before he opened the door just enough to peek over the side of it to see who was there.
It was Crown Prince Rudolf.
"May I speak with you, Judge Gunther?" the prince asked, his blue eyes narrowing as he peered over Gunther's shoulder. "Unless this is a bad time."
Gunther was at a loss for words. After all, what did one say to the older brother of someone he'd just sentenced to a public execution? Not to mention that maybe it was a bad time to talk to him. But Rudolf was the crown prince of the kingdom. Gunther sighed in resignation and nodded before opening the door and welcoming him in.
"I knew something sounded like it broke earlier," Prince Rudolf said, sidestepping the broken pieces of the mirror as he entered.
"I apologize, Your Highness," Gunther said, closing the door. "My office isn't in the best state for visitors of your status."
"I don't mind. I actually should be the one to apologize. About everything."
"What do you mean, Your Highness?"
"Prince Hans… What he did, what he turned out to be, it's my fault," Prince Rudolf said. He bent down and picked up a shard of the mirror about the size of his palm, looking into its reflection. "I never knew he had powers. Everything I said to him about magicians, everything I taught to him… Had I known, I never would have guided him in this way. I feel like he took everything I gave him and came away believing that it was something he could fix while having him think that there was no hope for him to live in an asylum. And in turn, he hid instead of turning himself in years ago and creating this web that ended up damaging you. And because of that, I'm sorry."
Gunther nodded once. "I accept your apology, Your Highness, but know that I hadn't even thought to blame you or your family for what happened."
The prince smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment, my friend." He placed the mirror piece onto the desk, face down. "It terrifies me to think that he could have heard everything I ever said to you in this office over the years, condemning the magicians before I gave them a real chance, believing that each of them was better off dead than making them think that there was something worth redeeming. I was so angry at what happened to Søren, I thought it would've been better to have never known him to save myself the pain. But I was wrong… And now I have to lose yet another brother to this curse."
Gunther knitted his brows together. "You mean… Prince Søren was a magician as well?"
Prince Rudolf nodded.
"That means…" Gunther trailed off.
"Yes, it means that if people look into things more closely, people will know, and once people know…" His words lingered in the space between them. He needn't say more.
At the very best, the kingdom would call for the removal of the royal family. At the very worst: civil war, the execution of the royal family by the more fanatic groups, an upheaval of the entire kingdom. One royal magician could be relatively overlooked, easily explained away by flukes and lack of knowledge, a seed of distrust planted in the public that could be weeded out with careful hands. Two royal magicians?
Gunther had been alive long enough to witness the fall of nations for far less.
"I can't let it happen," Prince Rudolf said. "I've already failed as the appointed heir, and I can't allow myself to watch it fail without doing something."
"You have a plan," Gunther said.
"It'll be a lot to ask of you, Your Honor. I wouldn't have involved you in the plan had there been anyone else, but there isn't."
"Your royal station aside, Prince Rudolf, I think of you as my friend. Ask what you will."
"His execution," Prince Rudolf said. "Allow me to be the one to do it."
Gunther clenched his jaw. The prince was right. It was a lot to ask of him. But he was the judge overseeing the case, and it was his responsibility to plan the details of a public execution. He could see hints of why Rudolf thought it would be a good idea: mitigating suspicion of his family being the big one. However, as his friend, letting him kill his own flesh and blood was not something he could do with a clear conscience.
"Please," Prince Rudolf said. "Allow me this. My brother deserves more than to be killed by a stranger."
Everything within the judge screamed for him to deny the request. How many times had others asked him to spare their loved ones? How many would give everything just to let him give their family members one more chance? He was to be impartial. He was to have no feelings to interfere with any trial.
But once. Maybe just this once, he'll listen to someone's pleas. An act of mercy that was anything but.
"The documents you need are on my desk," Gunther said. "Read them and bring them back to me tomorrow and I'll see what I can do."