The walls reflected their magnolia colour through the light to give everything a pale glow, even on the face of Brett North, who sat at the table with hands cuffed to the top. His angelic face belied the fact that he was being accused on four counts of murder, and his blue eyes, dark hair and faint Scottish lilt did nothing to help people see it any differently. However, the fact that he was found with blood over his clothes, the murder weapon just beside them and laughing his head off next to the bodies meant that practically everyone assumed it was going to be a quick trial, and then a hanging. Practically everyone, Edmund and DI Clarke had their own assumptions about the state of the prosecution's evidence, and the state of Brett North's mind at the time. Edmund sat himself down; ignoring the whisper he was hearing at the edge of his hearing, "Edmund..."

Placing the papers on the table, he sat himself down, and had another look at the man all England despised for brutally murdering such an innocent, gentlemanly family of husband, wife, a girl and a baby boy, before destroying their flock of chickens at the back of their garden.

"Are you quite finished staring Mr Pevensie, or shall I wait for you to finish?" Edmund shook his head, as though shaking away that whisper of his name around him. He looked back at Mr North.

"Hardly the time to be cracking jokes Mr North, not after what you appear to have done."

Brett smiled, and it would have made any girl in the room swoon and swear he was an angel.

"If this isn't the time for jokes, when will it be hmm? Although, why did you say appear?"

Edmund looked at him.

"Mr North, I am your defending barrister, and as such I say you mustn't have committed the crime, after all you did plead innocent."

"Maybe, but do you think that'll sway the judge's hearts? Perhaps I should flutter my eyelashes and do a puppy-dog face instead, and hope that it'll change their minds about hanging me."

Edmund rubbed his eyes, pushed back his fringe from his eyes, and leant forward slightly.

"Mr North, the only person I have seen do that with any success is my sister, so trying it wouldn't have a great deal of effect, considering that the judge is Mr 'stone heart' McHoane, as he is more affectionately known to his friends. Why don't you tell me what happened that night, as I can prepare an adequate defence."

Brett leaned back, lifting his arms to stretch as far as the handcuffs would allow, before sighing a heavy sigh.

"I would Mr Pevensie, if I remembered. All I remember doing is opening my front door to a knock, then waking up in that house, with blood on my hands and clothes, ad several policemen about to make sure I "resisted arrest", before bring me to the station cells. Somehow, and as I'm not a barrister please correct me if I'm wrong, but that won't hold up in court."

"Nothing? No hint of voice from the knock, no person?"

"Nope."

Edmund sighed, and groaned.

"You're not exactly helping Mr North. You're saying that you somehow ended up about ten miles away from your house, with no forced entry into either building, with no recollection of any events?"

Brett leaned back again.

"there was one thing, i remember opening the door because a woman knocked, said she needed help, her dog had been run over."

"Did you see her?"

"No, i saw the dog though, and it was huge, about half the size again of a normal dog."

Half the size again... a flash of a dog running up to him on a green hill, surrounded by trees, a dog that seemed the right size for the land, "it spoke..."

Brett looked at Edmund curiously.

"Pardon?"

Edmund shook his head furiously, yawning as he did so.

"Mr Pevensie, perhaps you should rest, i mean, how you supposed to be a good barrister if you're spouting rubbish?"

Edmund nodded, and stood up, letting the policemen come and take Mr North back to his cell. As they did, Brett spoke again.

"It did as well, said something about Majesty." And he carried on down the corridor.

DI Clarke stood by Edmund, and looked at him curiously.

"What did Brett mean by that?"

Edmund looked at him.

"A conversation about talking dogs."

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