Deputy Kreacher Pierson smiles in delight. A new case always brings him joy and excitement. He loves being in the court, bringing in the defendant and listening to the proceedings uttered by the jury.
Everyone's eyes are on the accused Duchess who holds her head low in attention. The inculpatory evidence is being read—the world seems to be against her. Only a miracle would save her from the sentence she is sure to receive. He had expected that she would've tried bribery by now—not that it would work—as no one aside from her husband believes in her innocence, but she must be an honorable woman, too dignified—or too proud—to stoop down to something so low. Admittedly, he has compassion for her, but that won't save her.
The Deputy's eyes linger around the dark tribunal. The commissioners look so grim, the bailiff impassive as always. The only ones who aren't as solemn-looking, unsurprisingly, are the ones who have the only power in the room—the two officials sitting in their high place, the Judge and the Clerk.
The lady sitting in front of the golden Scales of Justice has a self-satisfied smile on her face, the kind that already knows what the outcome of the trial would be. It almost makes him think of her as the Lady Justice herself, smiling in gaiety at the poor souls finding themselves answering to justice.
The justice himself is wearing a matching expression—that of amusement and enigma. He always has an ever-present smile in court but no one would be brave enough to question it, and especially not Pierson even if he had been working with him for quite long. If anyone would know the reason, it would be the Clerk—the Deputy just knows that the two are always in conspiracy.
Gazing at his two superiors made him recall just how he got to be in this place and how it was undeniably linked to them. It was during his alma mater's graduation ceremony last year where he had first known about the two youngsters. The visually impaired but highly intellectual Helena Adams had a rousing speech about their role as enforcers of the law, as "emissaries of the faith". He had no doubt that it was that conviction that attracted the attention of the then-still neophyte but already influential Joseph Desaulniers, who held the self-same view of the law. Pierson could clearly remember his conversation with the two where they both convinced him of their doctrine and joining their work place. With the ambitious Desaulniers and the stellar Adams, Pierson knew that he wouldn't remain as just a "common commissioner" for long.
Almost immediately, he already set to work for the noble-official and his assistant and it didn't take long for him to understand how they could both accomplish much at such a young age. In the nobleman, he could see an obsessive glint in his eyes—ambitious and proud, he knew that the noble was destined to be a Judge. Unlike his amiable twin, the distinguished Doctor Claude, Commissioner Joseph is a studious man with high standards for performance—despite his pleasant-going personality, he will only move to execute his plans. Except from his hobbies of photography and fencing and discussing law with his assistant, Pierson hardly sees him enjoying anything else.
In contrast personality-wise yet not so different in beliefs, the demure and taciturn Adams complements the chief in every way. Soft-spoken and introverted, she is wise for her age and her opinions, as rare as they are, are greatly valued by their employer. People always seem to remember her by her kind cheery personality; the only time Pierson sees her in a negative mood is when plaintiffs and defendants purposefully avoid the truth or try to appeal to the Judge miserably—she could get jealous of people who already have everything yet still choose to defy the law. In the workplace, Commissioner Helena is very hardworking, always bent over her desk, scrawling document after document feverishly. Pierson once questioned the legality of her blindness as her handicap didn't seem to impede her in any way. If she had been more social, he knew that she would have no problem rising up in the judicial ladder, that is if the boss would've allowed it. Though Adams would always be present wherever Desaulniers would be, their superior seemed to be 'hiding' her from the world. If one were to ask him, she was rightly called 'an accessory' to the boss; she took that as a compliment.
Just a few months of working with them later, news about the Judge of the prestigious court's retirement came around, and of course, his employer jumped at the opportunity, promising everyone who could hear that he would get the position.
And after a month of deliberation on the Supreme Court's part, he did. People couldn't grasp the thought of someone so young achieving that position, but Pierson knew better.
As soon as the new Judge was installed, Pierson and Adams were immediately appointed as Deputy and Clerk, respectively. It was only natural that he would choose them as his subordinates and Pierson had never been so happy with having so much responsibility. It even came with a set of dapper clothes and accessories, though he could argue that the superiors had more regal attire with matching medallions.
Presently, the Clerk has started to present the exculpatory facts as provided by the Duke, probably the only person defending the Duchess. Everyone is listening intently, so it isn't possible for anyone to miss the slight movement of the Judge's hand, brushing the top of the Clerk's hat in a motion that seems to value cleanliness. But it's easy to miss the slight upturn of the lady's lips as she continues to read the documents, obviously in response to the gesture.
Even if he didn't know any better, he would still say the same thing that's so obvious about them.
From the start, he noticed that the two had a bond between them. They get along well, always talking about everything and even nothing—he isn't privy to such intimacy but he does know that there is an undeniable understanding between them. Truthfully, the woman has a closer relationship with the chief than Pierson ever had. He might've even told someone else that the two are good friends.
But he was closer to the truth. Looking back, he should've realized it sooner when, just a few months before their promotion, Desaulniers organized a party "in celebration of a grand beautiful occasion". The noble isn't really one for secrecy, but the ubiquity of white and gold costumes and trimmings with a large delectable cake as the centerpiece in the event still went over the guests' heads. From the resplendent reception and the elated emotionality displayed by the hosts, Pierson felt rather dumb that he hadn't figured it out from seeing the two, all dressed up in matching attire, dancing together in bliss. At least, he congratulated them even if he didn't know what it was about.
More evidence surfaced a few weeks ago, when he realized how deep their connection is even in the workplace. The Clerk had been absent that day due to a sickness, the Judge said, who looked more impatient than usual. How he knew that fact in such short notice, the Deputy didn't question, as he had been tasked to take over the Clerk's office—something he was truly unprepared for. But thankfully, it only required him to hand over the documents she had already finished.
When he took the ream of paper from the desk, his eyes almost bulged out in astonishment. It was the neatest most undecipherable handwriting he ever saw. He couldn't understand a single word. It was as if the script came from another world, like a mixture of French and some Oriental language, unintelligible to human eyes. Anxiety rippled through him. Was he supposed to translate this? But upon inspection of the whole document, no cipher was included, no code to translate it with. How was the Judge supposed to read this?
The barely concealed irritated voice of the recipient finally snapped him out of his reverie then. With trembling hands, he handed the document, planning to file an appeal for reconsideration in case the man decided to fire him for giving an incoherent report. But wonder of wonders, the Judge read the opinion in a loud clear voice, unperturbed by the monstrous script. To think that they have a secret code of communication… he knew that those wayward unreadable strips of paper he often found around the bench meant something.
But the ultimate piece of proof confronted him just a week ago, in a very eventful morning. He always arrived early to the court, way before the commissioners do—the reason is more because of his aversion to social interaction rather than duties to be done. But he knows for a fact that either the Judge or the Clerk would arrive earlier than him—it's almost as if the two live in the courtroom. That particular day he woke up rather early and groggy, having been busy with the orphanage he's been supporting, planning to take a short nap in the room. Forgetting his manners, he opened the side door directly leading to the Justice's bench, yawning loudly as he did so.
When he opened his eyes, all his senses were awakened. Right in front of him, cuddling on the highest chair in the courtroom, were his superiors—in a very compromising position. The two, entangled in each other's embrace, were staring back at him—the red-faced lady was visibly distressed and embarrassed while the equally flustered gentleman was glaring daggers at the intruder.
In that moment of awkward silence, all the pieces came together in his head and Pierson knew that one wrong move could cost him his job or even his life. He would have bolted out of there if his legs weren't so numb from fear, but he knew that taking one step would most probably send Justice's sword flying towards his head. His hand ached for his flashlight, instincts telling him to stun them both and escape, but the least he'd want is to be a fugitive on the run with two powerful officials hunting him. So, in the most solemn collected way he could possibly muster in his flabbergasted state, he bowed and stated his apology, stammering as he asked for forgiveness.
Of all the crimes he expected to be judged for, he never would have imagined this one act of intrusion to be the cause of his first trial. Thankfully, the Lady Justice deemed him worthy to be spared, for the bemused authoritative voice of the Judge declared clemency in a warning tone.
It was only after the trial that he was summoned and rebuked for his crime of not knocking on the door first. It wasn't that the two were actively hiding their relationship, they said—their shared surname is clearly written in the records—they just wanted to be joined together in the eyes of the law, away from the prying of society. Pierson speculated, too, that they wanted to avoid political controversies and other unnecessary issues that come with their status. He swore to keep the fact to himself, though with the amount of subtle flirting he had witnessed every day in court, it'd be absurd to think that no one had a clue yet.
Yet, that simple fact rather makes him wonder if their brand of justice is truly impartial. He completely respects them and knows that no one else would be perfect for the job. But if they ever come to a disagreement, which emissary would gain justice's blessing? Even if the Judge has the final say, isn't justice based on agreement? Or is there an absolute ideal that he is yet to understand, that only enlightenment can bestow?
The sound of the gavel pounding to signal the final judgment returns him to the present. Justice, in a voice so solemn and triumphant, has spoken. The accused bows in acquiescence. The trial has ended.
Escorting the Duchess to her ultimate fate, Pierson smiles in elation, knowing that justice has been served today. In the end, the answers didn't matter; only their decisions do. Even though deep down he knows that no one could truly execute its will in absolute certainty, gazing at the Scales of Justice and seeing the gold-illuminated emissaries behind it, the Deputy believes that faith and justice can still thrive through in the world, as long as no one stands in their way.