"And?" Decius and Chee asked in unison, standing up from their computers.

Latreya smiled slightly. Usually, after meetings like this, she was glaring at Decius and Chee for having gotten out of them, not smiling. "Tribunal Charter's done and signed."

"That's great!" Decius said. He had noticed that the District representatives had been cooperating quite well, but he hadn't expected them to be done so fast.

They sat down around the dinner table, as did the fourth person, Irons. Hopefully her presence meant that she was interested in learning from the wisdom (or lack thereof) of the ancients.

Irons pushed aside a few books. "It's going to be published soon. No major differences since the last draft you saw."

"So now it's just settling on the defendants?"

"Yes," Irons said. "Key criminals are tentatively agreed on, but it's the Peacekeepers that are causing the most strife." She didn't have to explain that - being a historical consultant meant that Decius had a front-row seat to District representatives demanding the right to put General X or Colonel Y in the dock. Only those who had served in multiple Districts were eligible, but even a few months of doing nothing counted as serving, widening the pool drastically.

So more meetings, then. Since arriving to the Capitol, Decius had swung between having to attend endless meetings and having absolutely nothing to do. Things were developing at an absolutely breakneck pace, but then again, the amount of preparation done beforehand was unprecedented - and the historians did not use that word lightly.

Latreya huffed. "Frankly, Chief of Counsel, I'm not sure why you're continuing to drag us into these meetings. Our job is to write up memos about Jefferson Davis and Wilhelm List, there's nothing else we can help with."

"The perspective of an expert is invaluable."

Chee clicked their tongue. "How much can we offer, at this point? Dr. Lee and I are experts on world wars, not civil wars. You'd be better off asking Dr. Khorsand - he, at least, specializes in modern conflicts, not ones that predate the Cataclysm." Khorsand, whose current field of study - the Portuguese Civil War twenty years back and its resulting conflicts - straddled the line between history and journalism, had defected from the Capitol forty years ago and emigrated to Syria, where his relatives lived. He was in touch with the team via the Web but preferred to stay in Aleppo.

"How many actual war crimes trials have there been since the Cataclysm?" Irons asked rhetorically. "We need examples of what to do, not just what not to do. Your tips will help us every step of the way."

It still sounded stretched to Decius. The Tokyo Trial had been over three hundred years ago and its structural issues would be of no interest when planning a post-civil war trial.

Something suddenly stirred in Decius' mind. "How many Peacekeepers are going to be on the list?"

"So far, the estimate is about fifty."

At least there, he could help, but Irons hardly needed his advice to know that such large group trials were difficult. "Are you sure?"

"Some of the prosecutors have participated in trials with over a hundred defendants. Those were hardly fair processes," she conceded, "but it should be doable."

Chee nodded, lost in thought. "I know you were having issues with the Ministry of Information?" Gaius Kren, the Minister of Information, had been one of those who had committed suicide. Unlike the other high-profile suicides, though, there was no obvious deputy.

"So far, they can't decide on whether to have nobody, like with the Ministry of Transport, or to have someone relatively junior," Latreya said, not looking up from her phone.

"I don't even know what to suggest there. They did read my memo, right? If someone is obviously more junior than the rest, it'll look absurd. Like with the Death Squad - the operatives are hardly on the same level as the decision-makers. Bad enough that we're going to have generals and privates in the same dock in the Peacekeepers' trial."

At that moment, the owner of the apartment stuck his head in. "Is everything alright?" he asked in a servile manner. "Do you need anything?" The three historians and their spouses had managed to get a nice billet, even if it was horrifically cramped and the couples had to rotate every night between the bed, couch, and fold-out cot.

Decius looked at the clock. It was almost lunch. "No thank you," he said. "We're good for now."

Irons looked vaguely irritated. "I'm sure it's no secret that Coin is not interested in acquittals." She paused. "This is a trial, though. The executive has no power over the judiciary, not if I can help it."

From Irons, Decius could believe it that she would single-handedly keep the trial fair. He knew that she was upset over not having been given power over the trials of Snow and the Gamemakers and would exercise the power she did have to the fullest.

"In any case," Latreya said, "do you want to see our tentative list of key criminals?"

"This is too fast," Chee spoke up abruptly. "It's been not even a month since we won, and we already have a list of names? I thought it would take us until spring."

Irons didn't look too worried by that. "With those preliminary lists you put together, the task was so much easier."

"Are all of the people on the list in custody right now?" Decius asked. That was another issue with the timing.

"All but three. If they are never found, they will be tried in absentia."

Chee didn't look too mollified by that, clearly imagining someone being tried in absentia when they were actually lying dead under rubble, but they still nodded. "Alright. I think I last saw the list two weeks ago, it'll be interesting to see how much it's changed."

Decius went to close the door. As historical consultants, they were privy to some very confidential information. While he had heard very accurate rumours about who was on the list, he didn't want to make the situation even worse.

"So?" Chee prompted.

Latreya took out a sheet of paper from her bag and studied it. "At the moment, we're considering adding Irma Slice," she said. "She's not even in our custody – she's all the way in Thirteen. Surrendered early, most likely in an attempt to gain favour." Chee was rubbing their face with a hand. "She was a deputy minister, responsible for what the Districts saw on television. She also had a TV program - I watched a few clips, it's a notch above the usual propaganda. She didn't froth at the mouth, at least."

"Doesn't sound like key criminal material to me," Decius said unhappily. "She'll look completely out of place next to ministers and generals." There was another issue. "What are they doing to her in Thirteen? We don't need another Okawa Shumei."

Chee smiled. "I was thinking of someone else."

That was a valid point - and a much more accurate comparison. "It's interesting that we're drawing so many parallels to the past," Decius mused. "Maybe that's just because the positions are basically the same, so they're going to be filled with similar people."

"In any case," Irons said, clearly unimpressed with the digression, "Dr. Blueroot, why don't you go down the list so that your fellow historians can see if they have some ideas?"

"How much time do you have?" Latreya asked.

"Several hours."

Latreya nodded and looked at the list. Before she could speak, Chee spoke up. "If they're missing, just assume they'll continue to be missing. It's by no means a guarantee, given that we've only had a couple of weeks to track them down, but we should prepare for the worst."

Irons jotted down something in a notebook. Latreya began to speak. "Alright, so Slice is at the very end of the list." That was rather predictable. "I'll go in backwards order, then. Before her there's Aquila Grass, Minister of Justice."

"At last, she and justice will be in the same courtroom," Chee muttered. Decius agreed. She had been on every list so far and would most likely stay there.

"In the second half, there's a whole bunch of ministers and deputy ministers. Minister of Resources, Minister of Health-"

"What are their names?" Decius asked.

"Theodosius Coll and Carolus Lee."

He knew of both. "Wasn't Coll just a puppet of Snow? He was only twenty-nine when given the position." All the gossips had chalked up his promotion to the sauna.

Irons shook her head. "He's thirty-five now."

Still quite young. "I guess they'll all be claiming to have had no choice," Decius conceded. "Who's next?"

"Diana Kirji, deputy head of the department of Victors' Affairs." That was a new one.

Chee snorted. "Is there even a shred of documentary evidence of her involvement with anything nefarious?" Despite the fact that half the world knew by now about what had happened to the survivors of the Hunger Games, nobody could find documentary proof. Most likely, it had all been off-the-books - and nobody was bothering to interrogate Snow.

"No, but there's plenty of testimony," Irons shot back.

Testimony was notoriously unreliable, but maybe if a hundred witnesses said the same thing it would be more watertight. "If she wiggles out, that will be very awkward," Decius predicted.

"Who's next?" Chee asked.

"Livonia Toplak. Deputy head of the Training Centre."

Another newcomer to the list. It took Decius some seconds to remember what that even was. "What are they even going to tie to her?" he asked. "Loathsomeness is not a crime."

"The Games were illegal," Chee said with deadly earnestness. "That's what they'll tie to her."

It still sounded weak to Decius.

"Next up we've got the deputy Minister of District Affairs, Alexander Pollman."

Another deputy, thanks to yet another suicide. Decius had never heard of Pollman until coming to Thirteen, and the man had had the position for twenty years.

"Then there's Prima Dijksterhuis," Latreya said, tripping over the name. "She's one of the missing ones. Minister of Economics."

"Very ministerial," Chee remarked. "It'll be like a governmental gathering in the dock."

Irons showed a hint of a smile at that. Latreya continued reading. "Charlotte Brack, former deputy Minister of Education."

"Another propagandist," Decius noticed.

"How about I just go down the list and then we discuss all of them at once?" Latreya suggested. "Simon Ledge, Minister of Finances. Romulus Thread, Head Peacekeeper of Eleven and Twelve, missing. Quintus Lark, propagandist. Donna Blues, Head Engineer of the Hunger Games. Antonius Chaterhan, partial owner and CEO of the Steelworks. Cecelia Talvian-"

"She's alive?" Chee asked, shocked. Decius, too, had expected the head of the NCIA to kill herself, but he had also thought the same about Snow.

"Yes - she was just arrested by accident." Decius had gotten used to that happening, but he had not thought Talvian would be caught the same way.

"I'm impressed she hasn't drunk herself to death yet," he said. Back when he had lived here before, she had been known for constant parties and drinking. There had been jokes about her having last been sober during her last pregnancy or that she only became reasonable when drunk, as well as more serious observations about how even the head of the NCIA could not cope with her murderous job.

"She? Isn't she a metre fifty on tiptoes and child-shaped to boot?" Latreya asked. "She'd kill herself tossing back a shot of vodka."

"It's called building up a tolerance," Decius said. "I remember when I was in uni-"

"Let's discuss this later," Irons said, clearly not interested in his youthful mistakes. "Then there's John Krechet, deputy head of the so-called Death Squad. Caius Best, founder of Coast Guard as an independent branch and its former commander. Septimus Verdant replaced him as commander. Rhea Blatt, Minister of Armaments. Ereza Cotillion, head of the Institute of Genetic Research, missing. Alan Lux, Commander-in-Chief. Marsia Bright, Head Peacekeeper of Eight. Menares Oldsmith, Snow's secretary and advisor. Publius Dovek, Minister of Internal Affairs." Latreya put the paper on the table. "Well, then."

Decius tried to absorb the information. "Oldsmith? Really?"

"Who else from Snow's administration is still alive?"

Point taken, and at least Oldsmith had been personally infamous for his corruption and involvement with everything. "Why both Thread and Bright?" There had been about five former Peacekeepers being considered for that trial, and he had assumed one would be chosen.

"Thread's infamous on his own, and we didn't want him to be the sole representative. We could spare the space in the dock," Irons explained.

"Wait a second," Chee said. "Twenty-four people, twelve male, twelve female. Was that on purpose?"

Irons winced. "No. Coincidence. If changes are needed, they will be made - I know many of the legal advisors want to remove Krechet and put in a decision-maker. Though I'm sure people will see deliberate symbolism."

Decius wondered what that boded for the sentences. Would one person be allowed to live, then? That sounded like the sort of symbolism Coin could appreciate. Decius, however, wasn't enthusiastic about the prospect. Group trials weren't about picking the most or least guilty, they were about trying several people in the same process. One's crimes did not affect the others' sentences, or at least they should not have.

"Where are they right now?" Chee asked.

"The three missing ones are missing," Irons said unhelpfully, "Slice is in Thirteen, Bright is in Eight, and the rest are scattered over various detention centres. Something like eight are in one specific one. I've heard good things about the warden, we're meeting up today, in fact." She looked at her notebook. "There's a long-list of individuals we know we for sure want, so we'll simply have them all transferred under his command."

Of course, Chee's eyes lit up at that.

"Dr. Nurbeko, I assure you that Lieutenant Vance is perfectly capable of doing his job without your advice."

"One never stops learning," Chee fired back. "This isn't just any random trial, this is the worst of the lot all in one building. Nobody has tried anything of this sort since before the Cataclysm."

Decius thought about the selections. Positions-wise, all of theirs were appropriate for the title of 'key criminals', but was that accurate? Would it turn out that someone was being tried for their job title, and not their actions? He had his suspicions that Toplak and Kirji were only there because District representatives demanded someone related to the Games. Besides them, who even was there? The Gamemakers were on trial somewhere else and the assistant Gamemakers were too small a fry. The Head Engineer, of course, but one did not need to be Chee to know that Blues would ply the 'apolitical professional' line. Someone who had been involved with the Games more directly was needed.

Now, was anyone still missing? There were several ministries Decius had expected to see representened, but due to suicides, a lack of representation was better than shoving in some deputy's deputy. The Districts wouldn't be impressed with the fact that they recognized almost nobody. Lark was the most loathsome person Decius had ever had the misfortune of seeing on television, but nobody in Thirteen had recognized the name unless they were also from the Capitol. Since Flickerman and Templesmith had wisely offed themselves, they would have to settle for less.

"What are they being charged with?" Decius asked. If the Charter had been drawn up, that meant that they could now start thinking about whom to charge with what.

Irons shrugged. "We've got the list of charges, but we haven't decided yet who should be charged with what. I know it's wrong, but I doubt they'll have counsel before they're indicted. Once they all have lawyers, we'll give them a month or so to prepare."

That left a bad taste in Decius' mouth - these people were being held not knowing why and would probably find out when someone sent along the gossip, and there weren't even any plans to get them lawyers. But looking at how exhausted Irons obviously was, he couldn't say anything about it. There would be an actual indictment. They would get lawyers, albeit late. And they would get at least a month to prepare. That already made this trial better than any major trials in the country in over a century.

"What about the judges?" Chee asked. "Prosecution? Where's the trial even going to be held?"

Decius nodded. "We have the defendants, but nothing else." He paused, thinking. "But that's our fault. We practically handed them detailed biographies of every high-ranking government official. At least that went smoothly. Were there inter-District issues?"

Irons shook her head. "They had a slightly different view on who the real criminals were, but nothing irreconcilable. Nobody is happy with the list, at least."

"A sign of a well-struck compromise," Latreya said, nodding. "And we do have the judges." She looked at Irons, who began to explain.

"They're all picked for the key criminals, and are going to be meeting up tomorrow in Thirteen." Irons went through her notebook. "Now, let's go through the Peacekeepers," she offered.

"Sure," Decius said. He'd need to hit the books and do some extra reading on the most similar cases.

Sometimes, Mary felt like Coin was deliberately messing with her. She chafed at the president's broken promises. Snow's trial had nothing in common with due process and everything - with the speedy elimination of a dictator so common in other countries. No information gathering, no attempt to make good use of the archives that were just beginning to be studied. The trial was about to end, and he hadn't even been interrogated properly even once, or even cross-examined! Granted, he had refused to take the stand, so the latter was not anyone's fault.

Mary found the number written down in her phone book. All of the District teams were now more or less put together, with a chief prosecutor from all but Twelve appointed. However, there would be issues in getting them to the Capitol. The ones from Nine and Eleven said point-blank that they would only abandon their current jobs if Coin personally ordered it, as the judicial system was barely grinding ahead. And that wasn't even the biggest problem.

Mary dialed the number and waited.

"This is District Eight Psychiatric Hospital #9, how may we help you?"

"Good day," Mary said. "I am Mary Irons, from the IDC. I have recently been informed that one of your patients has been appointed to work with me. I would like to speak with him. His name is Trevor Hall." A defector from Eight had recommended Hall, singing his praises in an excited tone, but the prosecutor had been severely traumatized by his experiences in combat and was currently institutionalized.

"IDC?" There was a short pause as the secretary or whoever they were went through some paper records. "Mr. Hall's doctor will be the one deciding if he is capable of such a mentally strenuous job."

"Is there anything you are permitted to tell me about his condition?"

"No."

"May I speak to him by telephone?"

"Let me see. I will call you back in five minutes."

Something crashed to the floor, followed by the sound of Isabella swearing. "What happened?" Mary said, leaning out of her office.

"Someone moved the armchair in the small living room and left a plate of food on the arm!" Isabella called back. "I'm fine!"

Isabella had told Mary at the beginning that she had adapted to day-to-day life, but she had lived with only her husband for company, as her children were fully grown and had moved out. There were something like twenty people in the house, which meant that the amount of small accidental mistakes was multiplied twenty-fold. Going outside was a bigger issue - Isabella never went out alone.

"Sorry!" someone else said. People were running back and forth now, cleaning up the mess. Isabella made her way to their bathroom. Her hands and shirt were spattered with sauce. Her empty eye sockets made her look like her eyes were simply closed. The fine shrapnel had left practically invisible scars on her face, but eyeballs could not recover like skin did.

"Do you know where my eyes went to?" she asked as she washed her hands.

"Sorry, no."

"Ugh." Isabella took off her shirt, put it in the hamper, and went to get a new one. They had their own sections of the small closet along one wall. "What colour is this?" she asked, holding up a shirt.

"Didn't you label them?"

Isabella shrugged. "Guess I forgot about this one."

"Light-grey, like Thirteen clothes, and the small circular logo embroidered on the pocket is black."

"Thanks." She put on the shirt and slowly did up the buttons, making sure it was aligned properly.

The phone rang. "Yes?" Mary asked.

"Hello," a tired male voice said. "I'm Trevor Hall. You asked for me. Also, fair warning - I'm on speaker-phone, and there's three people in the room with me." So he was using a cell phone. "When do you want me there?"

"When you are recovered," Mary said.

Hall snorted. "That will be never."

"When you are sufficiently recovered to participate in a high-stakes trial without it being a danger to your health," Mary amended.

There was the sound of breathing. "Technically speaking, that's already reached. I'm going to be released as an outpatient within the week, and I'm already working from my room."

"But?"

"But I've got more issues than I would want to impose on you," he continued. "I'd need to talk to a psychologist every two days, and that's the mildest one. I know how to manage my triggers, so you don't have to worry about me attacking someone like I did at the beginning, but I have no idea how I'll cope with a new environment. I might start sleepwalking again."

Mary rubbed at your head. "If the doctors allow it, we are capable of providing anything you require." Except space - trying to find room for everyone who could not cope with noise and chaos was extremely difficult. Ilemobajo was trying to find more room, but the OPOWC was getting shafted when it came to billets.

Hall sighed. "I wouldn't want to impose. I already feel pathetic enough here, and I'm surrounded by doctors who think I'm remarkably well-adjusted. If a fifty-year-old who wets the bed and hallucinates that the people he killed are sitting on his bed and eating lunch is considered well-adjusted, I shudder to think what poorly adjusted means."

"Mr. Hall, I just had someone walk into my office asking where her eyes are. I myself am one of the lucky ones who recovered remarkably well from being under fire. If you are capable of working on the trial, do not feel like you should decline the offer because you are embarrassed about your issues." Hopefully, the hallucinations he had mentioned had either gone away by now or could be kept at bay with medications. "I have read about your record and was very impressed. I would be very glad to have you working with me."

Distantly, Mary could hear Hall ask, "Is going an option?" Just as faintly, she could hear a doctor reply, "We would like you to get adjusted to your regular life first."

"As long as you and your team can work on gathering Eight material, I will be perfectly satisfied with the arrangement."

"I'm already working on that."

"Perfect," Mary said. "I'll send out the word that you're the Eight chief prosecutor, then."

There was a slight intake of breath. "This was the weirdest job interview of my life."

Unsure of how to reply, Mary thanked the prosecutor and put down the phone. One task down. How many more to go? She had to go to an IDC meeting today, again. Then, she'd have to go check out possible trial locations. And then talk to Coin.

Nobody was around to see, so Mary dropped her head in her hands. How was she supposed to do so many things? She ran down the list in her mind. One - update Coin. Two - IDC meeting. Three - scout locations. Four - meeting with the head of the Interrogations department. Five - she needed to find a billet for an incoming prosecutor, because the corridors in most places were too narrow for a wheelchair and the showers - unusable. Six - Snow's execution was tomorrow. The sentencing would be this afternoon, but Mary knew very well what it would be. Seven - she needed to continue brushing up on the government structure in the past few years. Eight - her brother John was threatening to go to the Capitol himself if she did not play thousand with the siblings next Sunday over the Web, and she had no idea how to play cards on the Web.

Mary wrote that all down in her notebook, looking to see what she could delegate. She could ask Solonandrasana, the head of the Interrogations department, to send in a report. Finding a billet was Ilemobajo's responsibility in any case. Snow's execution and Coin's dubious ideas about justice were not Mary's responsibility and could be wrapped into her conversation. John's need for gossip could be dealt with closer to Sunday.

"Joe?" Mary called out. Just seconds later, Joe was standing in the doorframe, a piece of dried apple in his hand. "Could you please make a schedule for today for me?" she asked, handing her notebook to him.

"Of course." Joe ate the apple in one bite and took out his own pocket calendar. In just a few minutes, he was handing the notebook back to her.

Mary glanced at the schedule. The IDC meeting was in a half an hour. More listening to District representatives argue about reparations, transport, and trade. But they needed her to make a report. Mary nodded her thanks and began to look for more suitable clothing.

"I've been hearing weird rumours," Tav said all of a sudden.

Janie sat up slightly to look at her boyfriend. "Hasn't everyone?"

Tav shook his head, sitting up and clutching the blanket to his bare chest for warmth. They were both completely naked and the heating wasn't very good. Janie cuddled closer to him. He was so warm, almost like a heater. "Yeah, but that doesn't make them any less weird. Yesterday in the rations queue, someone said that Coin was going to have a Hunger Games with the children of the Capitol."

That would have been funny if it wasn't so sad. "That's bullshit," Janie said comfortingly, patting Tav on the head. "We could have just shot all of you, but we didn't." Tav didn't seem very comforted. "I mean, why would you even think such a thing? You're getting good rations. Nobody's bothering you, your working conditions are better than ever before. I think that's enough proof that we just wanted to liberate you from Snow. And besides, a whole bunch of Capitol kids fought with us, it'd make no sense to kill them for being from the Capitol."

"I guess," Tav said. He smiled suddenly, hugging her close. "You're warm. And soft."

"So are you."

It was so nice to just sit there and hug. Janie had never realized how much she liked hugging, but it was seriously great. The feel of Tav's skin against hers was better than anything. She wished these cuddles could last forever, they were that amazingly addictive.

"When do you have to leave?" Tav asked, not worried about weird gossip anymore.

Janie pressed closer to him, not wanting to think about that. "Soon. And I won't have time tomorrow. You'll have to make do with the imaginary version of me."

"So will you," Tav reminded her with a laugh. "Will you be able to come over for dinner today?"

Janie nodded. "How could I not?" It was a win-win - Janie got a proper homecooked meal, and Tav's parents got black-market goodies. She had an intense suspicion that if not for the 'illicit foodstuffs', his parents would have long ago kicked her out for having seduced their precious son. Few dared to directly confront soldiers, but many parents and other assorted relatives had complained about fraternization to higher officers, who imposed fines on the unlucky soldiers with a smile and a wink. "What's going to be for dinner today?"

"Sausage."

Janie laughed, running her hand down Tav's stomach. "I thought you already had one," she said, glancing down.

"Aw, come on," Tav said with mock reproach. "It's no mere sausage. It's, er, an entire stick of smoked bologna." And he had dared roll his eyes when she had compared his skin to sugar and berries? That was even worse.

In any case, there was a more important problem here. "Where did you get the sausage?"

"Distant uncle in the countryside."

Distant aunts and uncles from the countryside were the bane of honest MPs (if they existed at all) and the joy of ones like Janie.

"I'll definitely drop by to try your sausage," Janie said.

Tav giggled.

The moment Mary saw the Justice Building in Lodgepole Municipality, she knew she wouldn't find a better place. The blocky building was covered with bullet holes and boarded-up windows and was currently being used as a local headquarters, but that could be fixed.

The building itself was whole, it was highly accessible, and there was plenty of housing available within a decent radius, even if this was one of the most destroyed areas of the Capitol. Only about five percent of the buildings were still inhabitable, and repairpeople were still looking for live wires and busted pipes flooding basements with sewage, but the Justice Building was looking remarkably untouched.

"Looks good to me," she told Reed, who had come with her.

Reed exhaled in relief. "Good. We won't have to run around the entire Capitol checking out the places." Mary had vetoed the Justice Building where Snow's trial had just ended and the Gamemakers were still on trial without providing an explanation. Coin had not been happy, but Mary had zero desire to make Coin happy. Not after that conversation. She had all but stated that Mary had been picked for the job because of the didactic value of her speeches.

Mary had replied that the didactic value of any speech, no matter how good, was nothing compared to that of the documentary evidence. She had explained that she'd read them into record, step back, and watch as the criminals hanged themselves on their own documents. But Coin had all but said that this would be a political show trial, and that she'd need to tell people what to think! Mary was still steaming about this as she stood by the Lodgepole Justice Building.

"Let's go in," she said.

The lights were off in the building. Instead, strings of lightbulbs were hung up in the corridors. Oddly enough, there was a functioning coffee shop, though with rather scant offerings. Mary decided to stock it fully once the trial staff moved in. People were running around to and fro. This was the seat of the local military government.

After ten minutes or so of walking around, the picture was clear. The jail cell blocks in the back, three long narrow buildings and one shorter one, were being used to hold Capitol citizens who had committed crimes ranging from black market activity to murder. No trials were being held in the building, and nobody had any idea when and where these people would be tried. Mary went up to inspect the largest courtroom, and was greeted with some sort of lounge, with trash everywhere. From the stacks of tapes on the judge's bench, she suspected that this was where the personnel watched movies.

"This should do," Mary said, looking around. On one side of the room was two levels of seating - most likely, this had been where major political trials had occurred. Mary remembered that Coin wanted to turn this into one as well, and felt a bitter taste in her mouth. On the opposite side, there was a wall to a storage room that could be knocked down to make seating for the press, unless the architects determined it to be load-bearing. The room wasn't exactly spacious, especially given the size of the trial, but it would do.

Mary sat on an overstuffed chair in the front row and looked around. They'd need to bring in more chairs for the judges, and long tables for the prosecution and defense teams. The dock already had two narrow backless benches. Given the age of some of the defendants, not adding backs would be hazardous to their health.

That was all cosmetic details. The ceiling leaked and had holes, and from the outside, it had seemed that the roof was damaged. She'd need to find an architect who could take over repairs. So far, it seemed like the MG was patching up damage with tape and plaster, which would not do for the trial of the old regime.

Mary realized that she was thinking of the trial of the key criminals as 'the trial of the old regime', discounting Snow and the Gamemakers entirely. Well, as far as she knew, there wasn't much foreign attention on either one. Nobody batted an eye at the speedy elimination of dictators, and the trial of the Gamemakers was happening in total secrecy. Mary had to find out details from the judge, who was keeping the trial fair single-handedly.

"This will do very well," Mary said again, standing up and looking around the dilapidated room. "Very well, indeed."

"Last question," the interrogator said, "and you are done for the day." Antonius knew by now to not relax, and indeed, the question was, "Who set policy for how workers were to be punished?"

"Local managers."

The interrogator raised her eyebrows. "You just said five minutes ago that decisions giving individual workers raises were made centrally, but general policy on punishment was not?"

"It was not," Antonius insisted. "What did it matter to me how they were punished? As long as quotas were being fulfilled, everything was good and I had no reason to pry. If they were not, I gave them some leeway in cleaning up their own messes."

"You say that, despite having just admitted to micromanaging the entire system? How does that fit together?"

"That is how it was," Antonius said. "If you do not believe me, why am I here?"

The interrogator sat back slightly. Even now, Antonius knew nobody's name aside from that of Vance. "I am here," she said, "because the Steelworks was more criminal an organization than the gang that sold drugs under the walls of the building I grew up in." Hearing such things still offended Antonius to the very core of his being, but he hid it well now. "We are currently finding more and more documents that prove that you just lied to me."

"Show me even one," Antonius challenged her.

"Here you go."

Antonius took the paper and skimmed it. How had this not been destroyed? This was bad. Very bad. "See?" he said. "I had nothing to do with the decision." He pointed at the signature. "It says right here - Edward Vartha."

"Nevertheless, Vartha was not a local manager. He was the head of the legal department, subordinate to only you. And, unlike you, he is being remarkably honest about his job."

By that she meant that he was blaming everything on him. That was the worst thing about being on top - there was nobody to push the blame on.

A few more uncomfortable back-and-forths later, Antonius was released. He was led outside, where despite the sun already being mostly down, the bright lights provided enough illumination to see everything clearly. It was already well into mid-January, and the snow was piled high away from the path. The middle of the yard was decorated with snowmen of all shapes and sizes. Had he really spent a month and a half already here?

Antonius walked past a giant mound of snow everyone, guard and prisoner alike, loved to roll down. There was even a set of steps on one side, with handholds. One of the Peacekeepers in the centre had been an engineer, so she had taken charge of the construction. It was certainly better than anything Achilleus got to play in now.

Thinking of his son was always painful, but he could not stop it. He had neither seen nor heard from him and Octavia and the rest of the family since his arrest, and had no idea where they were or how they were. Vance always swore they were doing fine, but never provided details.

He was jolted out of his musings by the sound of a truck pulling up. Most POW camps and detention centres were being slowly wound down, their inhabitants allowed to go home, but this one had been picked as one of the ones where the 'criminals', the ones awaiting trial, would be. Vance was inordinately proud of his task, that much everyone knew, even though he complained about overcrowding. Antonius had actually been given a cellmate. The taciturn Andrews had been a United Electrical Works supervisor of several plants and solar farms in Five - a do-nothing who had pushed all of his work on local managers. He seldom spoke, and when he did, it was to say how grateful he was to not be tried in Five.

Some of the others were chattier. Antonius heard them complain about how the interrogators somehow knew things only they were aware of, but if they were too unintelligent to mind the secret microphones, that was not his fault. Everyone suspected that not a word was safe, and yet they still persisted in blabbing about anything and everything. Had they tried that in Antonius' position before, they would have ended up fired at best.

There seemed to be some sort of commotion outside. Antonius stopped by the gate and watched what was going on between Vance and the two Peacekeepers who had just been brought in. "Please!" one was begging, an overweight man holding a stick-skinny woman in his arms as he climbed out of the truck. The man would not stay that size for long - Antonius' clothes were already beginning to feel loose. "They said I was lying, you have to believe me! She's in a diabetic coma, she's not faking, she needs insulin!"

Vance did not appear impressed. "And how does a person who needs daily medication to survive end up in uniform?" he asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" the man demanded. Couldn't Vance see she was near death in any case? Why was he just standing there? "Maybe she was conscripted by accident? I don't know, I only met her last week!"

"Interesting," Vance said. "Let's go. No need to worry, we won't let anyone die when they can be saved."

Antonius was suddenly reminded of the last 'movie night' he had been forced to go to. It had featured people whose children had died of curable diseases because medications had been too expensive. He had never given any thought to the fact that people had been forced to pay for officially free things in the Districts - he had lived with the assumption that things there were much the same as in the Capitol and the offhand remarks by managers mere exaggeration - but many of the Peacekeepers, the ones from Two, had practically exploded after watching that one. It galled Antonius, how they were all being set apart against each other, and not knowing when and how this would all end was enough to drive him insane.

A/N: Okawa Shumei was a Japanese far-right journalist and propagandist who was indicted by the IMTFE but was found to be unfit to stand trial after, among other things, slapping Tojo Hideki on the head while in the courtroom. He was hospitalized and released after the trial ended once he was deemed recovered, though it is highly likely that he was just trolling everyone. Chee thinks that a better comparison to Slice post-Thirteen hospitality is Hans Fritzsche, a German propagandist who was very lucky that the western IMT prosecutors agreed to indict him at the last moment, because otherwise, he might have been stuck in the Lubyanka for a much longer time.

Coll's promotion was partially thanks to the sauna, and what happened there was definitely illegal, but he was shielded from the worst by the fact that already at twenty-nine, he was no fresh-faced young thing but a parent of three. A much bigger role was played by his familial connections and his lack of conflict with anyone, which made him a useful puppet Snow could directly implement decrees through.

What do you think of the defendants? Anyone you're particularly intrigued by? Who do you already want to see swing even before any proof of their vile deeds has been read into evidence?