VII.
Handling The Truth
ICC Permanent Premises
Office Tower 3
17. November, 2015
4:49 pm MET
“Mr Estermann? Here you are.”
The lean attorney rushed into the offices of the ICC, to the great Courtroom Tower right. Here, so he heard, the defence team would be situated until further notice.
In front of the door, a pudgy man in a grey suit and with a bald spot in his dark hair was waiting, like an overweight bellboy, wringing his hands excitedly as Estermann came near.
“Mr Estermann. My name is Filippo..."
"Howdoyoudo." Estermann greeted him speedily and clapped his shoulder absent-mindedly as he rushed past him and entered the offices.
Expecting some sort of little introductory ceremony, where he would be pressured introduce himself to his team and bestow a few motivational words upon them - a thought he found absolutely harrowing - he braced for the notion of quickly squeezing a few hands, smiling dsarmingly, and then quickly disappearing in his own office and finally begin work on his opening words for the trial.
He knew what he wanted to say, and he saw to get to work and write it all down as soon as possible before his brilliant onrush of intuition would extinguish.
But the moment he entered the offices, the alleviating sight of the entire office buzzing with the clicking and clapping of keyboards, the humming of printers and scanners, and the ringing of telephones.
No one even minded him in the hustle.
"Alright..." he murmured, "Which magnificent bastard is responsible for all this?"
"That... would be me." a voice behind him answered with a smirk.
Estermann turned around and noticed the corpulent man standing behind him.
"FIlippo Garibaldi. How do you do? I am your aide-de-camp, in a way. We have talked over the phone, didn't we?”
Estermann quickly shook his hand a bit awkwardly.
“Perhaps. Good to meet you, Mr Garibaldi. Have you been waiting out there for a long time?”
“Oh no, no no. I just arrived here an hour or two ago. I would like to apologise sincerely about that; I came with the Euro-express from Lyon. It was a disaster. They’ve been upgrading large portions of the tracks, and the signals were not updated in time, so there was delay after delay… it was…”
“Alright, alright. Let’s go inside.” The lean solicitor said and motioned the pudgy Italian to follow him. He complied all too willingly.
In a way, Estermann could not help but feel a bit embarrassed, as he himself had seldomly been in his own working quarters the ICC had kindly surrendered to him a few weeks ago. In said quarters, there were a dozen clerks from all corners of the world employed to sit behind desks and do all those asignmnts too unimportant or trivial for the key figures to get conerned with. Which in this case, encompassed a good eighty percent of the paperwork the court threw at them.
Now that he thought about it, he was rather happy to have had no part in the massive amount of organisation that would have gone into hiring and deploying the employees and basic case experts. Admittedly, he had absolutely no experience in logistics - he wasn't a very organised man - but neither was he interested in changing that.
Probably this Garibaldi fellow had come to an arrangement with the court - all the way from Italy, no less! - and Estermann should probably thank him later.
“Where do you come from, Mr Estermann?”
“Switzerland.” He answered sparsely as he looked at him.
“Svizzera? Really? Oh… Dove sei nato?”
“I come from Lucerne. I don’t speak Italian.”
“Oh shame.” Garibaldi uttered as his interest in small talk dampened a bit in its tracks. “Ah well. When I arrived, Mr Estermann, I was looking forward to sitting down with you and discusing the defence's first official act, but you already were in a session with the... defendant, and I actually didn’t expect you for a few hours. So I... well... took the liberty to prep the defence team and to issue a statement to the resident media outlets about our position. Nothing too detailed, of course - I just reiterated our tasks and duties. I hope you don't object."
"Not at all. That'll do."
"You were finished quite fast with... her, though.” Garibaldi smiled. "Did it not go well?"
"On the contrary…” the lawyer said, but then hesitated. Now that he looked at it in retrospect, it did all seem incredibly short and sparse. Perhaps it really was just the initial shock that robbed him of any more words. “There was little to say and a lot to be done. So she and I decided to wrap it up rather quickly. She didn’t mind, she was still overcoming her... Kulturschock.”
“H... how was she, may I ask?" the Italian asked on, eyeing the defence counsel intrestedly, "She didn’t threaten you or try to hurt you or anything, did she?”
“No, not… particularly.” He replied. “But she still has to go a long way to adapt to her new environment. I think she didn’t even realised just how screwed she is here.”
“She wouldn’t be the first one to go through that though.” Garibaldi said and cackled humorously. “All the long-term residents of the Hague Hilton do. The thing I was really worried about, though, was… I mean, cavolo, I am hearing stuff about the things she did, it makes you cringe.”
“Oh, don’t exaggerate.” Estermann said and looked at him with lowered eyelids. "If I were you, I would take anything those ponies say about her with a big pile of salt."
“Well, I don't know, Mr Estermann... should we maybe continue in your new office?” the aide-de-camp proposed.
The head defence council's eyes lit up.
"New office? Don't mind if I do!"
Estermann’s office was in the same room from the clerk tables, separated only by an opaque glass wall, which was faced by an empty writing desk and an empty file cabinet with a tower of folders, each filled to the brim, stacked on top of it.
Garibaldi watched as Estermann placed his suitcase on the table and slumped down on the chair behind it, leaning back as far as the dynamical rest would allow it.
“Alright… this is a great chair. A great office. I think that, from now on, I will spend my nights here.”
“Glad you like it.” The Italian attorney smiled. “But now for something more… professional. Have you already in mind what we should commit to first? The whole office is waiting for your bark.”
“Actually… I have.” Estermann thought and scratched the side of his mouth. “Alright, at the moment, we do not exactly know much about either Queen Chrysalis, nor where this trial is heading. What we do know though is that this horse is spectacularly low on the popularity ladder, both in the court and in the public eye. This is what we must work on first.”
“I... see. What to you have in mind specifically?”
Estermann got up again with a groan and looked at his suitcase on the desk.
“People apparently either tend to see her as an evil mastermind at best and as a rabid animal at worst. And that’s how they treat her. When I saw her in her cell, she was covered in blunt traumas, from neck to legs. Whatever happened on her flight to the Hague, she was beaten like a dog.”
Garibaldi’s eyes darted to the ground unsurely.
“Was that before or after she… well... nearly fried a security guard alive?”
“Does it matter?” Estermann commented haughtily. Then he fell silent. “Wait... actually, it does. Did she become hostile towards the guards as a result of them beating her excessively, or…”
“...Or did the they merely try to subjugate her after she attacked?” Garibaldi finished the thought.
“Either way… the treatment she was subjected to was below all dignity for a political detainee. And this is firstly the topic we must expand on. How we treat her, and how we should be treating her – we will have to make amends with the inevitable prejudices. Changing our attitude towards her is the first step to changing the favour of the court.”
The Italian sighed and blew his lips.
“No offence meant, Mr Estermann. But... I am afraid this is going to be much easier said than done.”
The Swiss lawyer stepped out from behind the desk and walked past Garibaldi in thought.
“As long as there is no evidence to support the claims of the prosecution, we can and we should do what we can to shed her in some more positive light.”
“Evidence?” the Italian said. His eyes widened.
"So... you haven' heard, Mr Estermann?”
He sighed.
"Oh for God's sake, what is the world withholding from me again? I know I can't be a two places a the same time, but I'd really like to be kept up to date about those things."
"I can arrange that. Now, barely an hour ago, some woman came into the office. She wanted to speak with you."
“What woman? You don't mean a pony?" His hair stood on end. "Please don't tell me it was a pony."
"Oh, no no."
As if on cue, three quick knocks rang from the door, and an instant later, a familiar-looking human woman with a concerned expression entered the room.
It was the prosecutor, Pierman.
“Speaking of the devil...” Estermann mumbled, rather negatively surprised.
She said nothing. But the knowing smile on her lips said a lot. Expectantly, she crossed over to the Swiss lawyer and warily squeezed his hand.
‘She is tiny!’ Estermann thought as he looked down at her.
“Mr Estermann?”
“Ms Pierman?”
“Call me Sera.”
Their grip eased as a cold silence took hold on them both. “I heard you went to see your client.”
“Yes, Ms Pierman. Actually, I have.” Estermann answered in a mildly off-put tone.
“I think we have met before, Ms Pierman.” the aide added warmly. “What leads you into our lion’s den?”
“I’m afraid, Mr Estermann did.” The prosecutor stated smirkingly and turned back to the solicitor. “I actually wanted to speak to you this morning, but then you were suddenly gone."
"About what?"
"Well... general things, mostly. It’s always nice to have a friendly chat with the opposition over coffee before... you know... things get ugly and regrettable.”
“Evidently, I have been busy with my client today.” The Swiss lawyer stated with a no-nonesense frown, not granting her the pleasure to converse any more with him than necessary. “And now I am in the middle of something else, Ms Pierman. I hope you have come to discuss something more important than coffee.”
“Much more important, actually.” She answered, taken aback by his annoyed remark. “But tell me, what exactly did happen during your conversation with Queen Chrysalis?”
Estermann groaned bitterly.
“Alright, why does everyone keep asking me that? Nothing happened. Nothing at all. It went better than expected, what more is there to say?”
“Well excuse me for asking. It's just that... it is Queen Chrysalis we're talking about.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Ms Pierman?” Estermann inquired in a critical voice. “The Queen is my client, and this is exactly what I see her as. And I would really like to leave it at that.”
“It must be tough. Sorry.” The prosecutor answered mildly.
But the lawyer retorted with a nearly spiteful glare.
“Do not be sorry for me. And before you tell me just how bad you feel for me because I do what I do, let me tell you a little something I noticed about my client; massive beating marks on her whole body.”
"Oh. So?" Pierman inquired, slightly confused.
He moved away, back to his desk and leaned on it confrontationally.
“I think you might be interested in that I will seek out the people who are responsible for that, and I will refer them to the Dutch judiciary for brutal assault and disorderly conduct. The treatment she was subjected to should make up for any of the charges of her attacking her guards. The judge panel will be thrilled to see by what means the impeachment is upheld!”
“Excuse… what?” the prosecutor hesitated. Her shining eyes opened even more in concern and contempt.
“You can’t do that...”
“Why not?”
“She... she sent nearly half a dozen people to hospital yesterday. Half of them won’t recover enough commit to their work ever again. You... you don’t want to tell me you want to turn tables on these people after they got crippled by her!”
“Oh cry me a river.” he exclaimed cynically. “Those blunt traumas must stem from somewhere, Ms Pierman. I consider my client to be the victim in this incident. As well as in this trial.”
“You must be... fucking joking.” The prosecutor said, her face distorted with disgust. “What is wrong with you? Are mob-lawyer tactics just standard procedure in Switzerland?”
“Mob lawyer tactics? Give me a fucking break!” the lawyer yelled annoyedly. “This has nothing to do with mob-law. In my eyes, my client is nothing more than a victim of vicious popular judgement!
She gets hauled here, halfway across the globe, to stand trial for a set of crimes she has been charged with by a different country – a country that is not even pretending to be democratic, mind you - yet citing crimes for which neither you nor your precious investigators have any evidence for - and to add insult to injury, all your so-called witnesses have gone out of their way to do their part as lopsided and dotted with speculation as possible! In my ten years in international law I have never seen a case handled so dilettantly getting a pass by a justice system. It would actually be kind of funny, were it not so disgraceful!"
He drew a breath. "And then, to add injury to insult, the defendant gets beaten up by her own guards over her supposed guilt. And when she tries to strike back, she is pinned with assault and labeled a monster by the press.
But what do we actually know? For all we can tell, she may be innocent. She may have acted in self-defence. That’s the two cents of this lowly mob-lawyer, Ms Prosecutor!”
He breathed heavily. “How much does the proverb ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ actually mean to you?”
“More than you think, Estermann!” the little prosecutor said through clenched teeth and fetched a binder out of her suitcase, and threw it onto Estermann’s table.
Estermann pointed at it with protestation as it slid to a halt next to where he was leaning.
“What is that?”
“I suggest you see for yourself.” Pierman said. “A little collage, assembled by my ‘precious investigators’ in Equestria.”
Then she simply swung around to the exit and walked out the open door. "Good day."
Estermann snorted derisively and turned to his aide-de-camp, who was speechless with shock.
“Herrgott nochmal, what a little bitch... What the hell was she thinking? Comes in here to pat me on the head and promise me a slice of humble pie if I behave.
Is she just having too much spare time? You know, I'm getting the feeling everyone is taking turns doing this.”
Garibaldi looked at him as he said that, and for a moment it seemed as if he himself wanted to say something, but then quickly looked away again. He glanced at the catalogue on the table.
Following his stare, Estermann scrutinised the binder himself.
“This really better be something worth my time.”
“I saw it already.” Garibaldi finally said haply.
“Oh, did you?”
“Yes... this may the proof the prosecution has been anticipating.”
“Well.” He picked up the catalogue, which was about a hundred pages thick, with several UN seals and stamps featured on the simple cardboard cover.
When he licked his finger to fold it open, Garibaldi suddenly started up and motioned towards the door as well.
“Mr Estermann, forgive me. I think I must tend to my own desk. I haven’t unpacked everything yet.”
Estermann looked up from the binder.
“Alright?”
Looking rather ill, the Italian mumbled, “Yes, I… yes. Scusi.” before speedily going outside.
That wasn’t because of the binder though. Was it?
Estermann slitted his eyes nervously and cradled the binder in contemplation.
What did it contain?
He opened.
“So... what have those brilliant investigators unearthed? An... ancient conspiracy maybe? A ...secret command centre with detailed blueprints for genocide?” He thought out loud, trying to joke any premonition of nervousness out of the way. "This is going to be interesting."
The first few pages consisted of a dry report on the contents of the rest of the binder. He found it signed by a certain 'Edith Saric', a medic and forensic from Bosnia who was sent to help out in Equestria.
Torn flesh.
Twisted limbs.
Limp muscles that hung from the body like residue skin.
Blobs of thick, oozing, all-consuming gelatine that hung off skimp yet clotted fur in thick strains.
A distressed human aid worker in a camo uniform rushing out of what seemed to be a cave complex, shouting orders at the top of her lungs, holding a greying bundle of unidentifiable skin, bones and paling hair in her arms.
Next, a creature that looked like a ragdoll, walking upright; the bones under the sparse meat that still hung on its skeletal system were only remotely still connected by chunky ligaments - it seemed strange not to see any puppeteers' ropes that supported her weight, because her four legs seemed in no possible condition to do so.
A head of a pony - soaked in changeling secrete and shimmering in the dim flashlight of the photo camera - stretching upward, its mouth wide open, as it was violently lunging for air, drowning on dry land, like something taken right out of Dulce Et Decorum Est. Its orifices seemed scorched, red, swollen, infected, but also very undernourished and underdeveloped.
The lips and the gums of the mouth, the eyelids and tear sacs had been reduced to blood-red, nearly translucent rags of dissolved flesh - the eyes themselves seemed deflated and sunken in, like eggs conserved in vinegar for days that had been transformed into flacid, transparent lifeless rubber blobs.
Even its teeth had fouled down to some white and yellow stumps.
An equine in silver armour, using its horn to cut something open what seemed to be a giant green amniotic sac hanging from the rocks of a dark stone enclave. It burst, flushing out grey, syrupy gelatine, followed by a completely soaked bone of a hoof hanging out. Like a surgeon performing a botched Caesarian, the unicorn desperately grabbed the limp hoof with his mouth and pulled with all his might. Another lifeless, putrefied form of a pony slipped out onto the ground beneath the sac.
It was a sickening sight. More then two hundred and fifty colour pictures documenting something that was dryly entitled 'Freeing equines from changeling detainment by Equestrian military'.
Every gory and otherwise off-putting fact had been dutifully added in annotations beneath each picture. They described just what had happened to the different equines while they were entrapped inside these awkward organic growths. It was like in a morbid sci-fi exploitation movie.
But it was real, disgustingly real.
Their skin, muscles, bones and organs had literally degenerated in the countless months they must have spent in this confinement; dissolved by the demandingly consuming secrete; pulped by the pressure of the liquids in each of the individual cocoons; boiled by the sheer heat and energy instilled in their bodies.
Their coats were almost void of fur - it had stopped growing, and gradually fallen off in batches.
Their muscles had virtually disintegrated inside the warm atmosphere - their lack of calcium and essential vitamins had only contributed to their deterioration.
Their skeletal systems had gone the same way; by the time the ponies were carried out of the caves, the annotations explained, their bones had the consistency of porcelain - one subtitle explained that even merely tugging at the hooves of the trapped could yank the bone clean out of its joint, if it wouldn't just break it in half, resulting in the bone visibly protruding under the reduced skin.
The fluid they survived in, if it could even be called 'survival', contained little to no oxygen, nutrients, proteins or carbohydrates to support a healthy body sufficiently. Circulatory problems, wrecked nerve systems, extensive brain damage and pulverised bones all followed consequently.
By all means, they should have just been dead.
The whole horror of the situation lay in the fact that they were still alive. Broken, sucked dry of all will and energy, weakened to a point of absurdity, stunted physically as well as mentally, but alive.
Estermann was certain, had he been there, he would have probably taken a gun to the head of every single one of those unfortunate beasts to end their misery.
He could feel his gut twisting at the sight of the horrific scene. He had not gone through half the pictures before his eyes folded shut and refused to open again. He passed across them with a hand and kneaded them desperately. But that was to no avail; he couldn't bring himself to look at the pictures anymore.
This wasn't the evidence the prosecution had been anticipating - it was the evidence the prosecution lived for. He could feel any and all traces of doubt on his client's behalf being submerged in the acidic vat of anger, contempt, desperation and disillusion. Now, his more or less happy-go-lucky expectations to saving his client's face was little more than long-past make-believe.
Chrysalis, Queen of all Changelings, commander, dictator, warlady,... sadist, sociopath and mass murderer?
Was there any reason she had done this?
Or rather, did she need one?
He noticed a small sticky taped to the last page. In hasty handwriting, it read 'press release tomorrow, 5:00 pm'.
Estermann held his breath for a moment as he counted down the hours between now and the point where all the pictures would be turned over to the general public. The point of time where his client would fall from the world's grace entirely and ultimately; damned into the inner depths of everyone's consciences, manifested as exactly that sort of creature that drowned other creatures alive in her own bodily fluids and boiled them.
The sun was setting against the pale sky in the west. The shadows grew longer and longer in the office behind its glass walls, as the clerks one by one started packing their things and heading for the exit. The building was going to be closed within an hour, and they wanted to get home before the late afternoon darkness could take hold.
Solely a couple of determined workers were staying behind, including a handful of clerks finishing off some last statements, as well as a certain solitary aqua pony, who had spent the entire afternoon talking, chatting, and gossiping her way into the defence office.
"Ciao, everyone." the pudgy Italian foreman said as he slipped into his coat. "I cannot wait any longer for Mr Estermann. Please send him my best wishes."
"Leave it up to me, sir! Bye!" Lyra exclaimed and waved him farewell. Then she turned back to her very own task. "Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...."
The coffee cup floated through the air with the ease of a balloon, accompanied by the propeller sound made by the unicorn who held it in her telekinetic sway, and made a safe landing on the office tabletop like a blimp.
The eyes of the secretary who sat at the table, a telephone receiver pressed against her right ear, followed the enchanted ceramic cup with an almost mesmerised fascination as it landed next to her keyboard.
The light green equine trotted over to her playfully and looked over the grounded coffee mug.
"You know who that coffee is for?" she asked the clerk.
She shook her head as she stared.
"Our boss! Mr Estermann. We talked today, and he challenged me to make him one of those 'coffees'. And it was foal's play, of course! And now I'm just waiting for him. The first task I was ever given by a human and I carried it out with flying colours! Isn't that exciting?"
"Uhm..." the clerk moaned, unsure what to say.
"Oh I see. You're busy, aren't you? Doing human work, right? Just like me? Like a human? I mean, it's funny, because I'm not exactly human. Though I'm probably the next best thing, right? A very, very ambitious pony. Human in all but body."
The clerk respectfully pointed at the phone in her hand, trying to indicate she was indeed occupied.
"What exactly is that? It's one of those humany things, isn't it? A tella-phone... Elegantly molded to embrace the shape of your hand... you must be feeling like a God right now... am I right or am I right? I mean, sure, in Equestria we also have all sorts of silly little utensils that we can use to make our lives easier... but come on, we have to hold them with our mouths! Or... with our horns, but I digress. I'm still amazed that you can take your luck so coolly. Don't you know you have probably a one-in-a-billion chance to be born human instead of... I don't know... a ladybird? I mean... who are you talking to right now?"
The clerk sighed derisively.
"Russia Today..."
"Alright! I tell you, what important work it is! Be it bringing your boss a cup'a'coffee or calling someone on the other end of the planet, just with a flick of our fingers! Ka-blam, like it's no big deal at all. That's how we roll! And we don't even bat an eye at it, 'cause it's just like handling everyday chores for us. I mean, do you have any idea what kind of chores I have been... uh... hoofling in Equestria up until now? No? Thank Celestia, you don't."
The clerk looked up. She noticed the light behind the glass wall of Estermann's office extinguish. Not wasting any time, she took off her glasses and put the telephone muzzle into its socket. When even her boss was packing up for the day, it was a clear sign that her own working day was all but over.
"Hey, look. There's Mr Estermann. Our boss. Didn't you want to bring him the coffee or something?"
The mare swung her head into the direction of his office, just in time to see him walking out in a quick gait, his suitcase in one hand, and clasping a big cardboard portfolio in the other.
While the last clerk snuck out of the room behind her back, the unicorn jumped to the defence counsel's side in an instant, the levitated mug floating in her wake. Oblivious to the harrowed expression on his bleak face, she was quick to announce her presence to him in the most nerve-wrecking way possible.
"Hey, Mr E! You still remember me, right? Lyra, your very own Equestrian connection?"
The attorney walked past her slowly and limply, his mouth marked by bitterness.
"You again? Didn't I tell you to get out of here?" he remarked coldly.
"Um... no. You told me you wanted a cup of coffee, and that if I can make you a cup of coffee, I would be on board. So... here’s your cup of coffee."
Her 'boss' winced with irritation.
"I... I don't even like coffee. Why would I-"
Before he could finish the sentence, the mug floated in his face. He frantically waved the cursed cup away from himself.
"Get that thing away from mr. I don't have time for this right now."
"Oh I see." the mare said amiably. "You're in the middle of some... grave decision-making, right? You were in there for so long, I was almost starting to wonder whether you dozed off or something. Anyway, I kept that coffee warm, just for you, so when you come out of there, there’d be a warm mug waiting for your longing hand’s embrace."
Someone suddenly turned off the lights in the office, plunging the room into dim twilight. The last rays of the sun, quickly disappearing behind the skeletal treetops outside, managed to provide some barely sufficient natural light.
Estermann sighed. Almost subliminally, he clasped the portfolio under his arm even harder.
"Why can't you just leave me alone, pony?" he breathed.
The mare giggled at the question.
"Because I cannot let go of you just now. You need help. You just don't know it yet."
"You think you know what help I need?!" Estermann exclaimed, short of temper.
His angry fit brushed off the equines beaming countenance like a pebble from a harness. She didn't even flinch.
The human jurist felt his shoulders sagging. She wouldn't budge.
He took the time to stuff the big, heavy portfolio half into his suitcase before answering her. His voice sounded a lot less harsh than it just had.
"It's too late to help me now."
"Look. I know-"
She noticed the lawyer now staring at her long and hard. His stare, once inquisitive and critical, softened, turning remorseful and lethargic. "Is... everything okay?" the mare asked as her smile turned melted into a grimace of concern.
"I'm having a bad day. Let's leave it at that." he muttered, almost mildly.
"It's not... because of me, right?" she made sure, telekinetically swirling the coffee mug in thought.
"No. Strangely enough." he answered and harrumphed, following up with a cough.
He spied around him, making sure they really were alone. Quizzically, Lyra followed his glances.
"Um, is it because of the case then?" she whispered secretively. "It almost seems like you've hit a snag!"
"However did you come to that conclusion?" he asked sarcastically.
"Dunno, just felt it. I have spent my life studying the facial expressions of your kind, so I know what I'm talking about."
"A proper jack-of-all-trades, aren't you?" he snarked and fell silent for another second.
“Do you... want my advice?” she asked with beaming eyes.
“No.” he groaned.
He looked at her another time. As he looked her in the eyes, something clicked in his mind. With trembling lips, he summoned a question for her. "You. Tell me... have you ever been... stubborn... in your life?"
"Uh... me? Well..." she mumbled, surprised by the question.
"Have you ever believed... have you ever just known ... that you were right? That there was no one else who was righter about something than you? Hm?"
"Oh, tell me about it!" the mare exclaimed. "Did you know that I was into humans before it even was cool?"
Estermann gave her a long, doubtful glance.
“Sorry, that came out wrong. Anyway, why do you ask?”
He snorted and smirked melancholically.
"I have no idea. Why am I asking you that? An equine?"
'Was it remorse?', he thought to himself. 'Shame?'
"I have... just found out what... things... the Queen has probably been up to in the last few decades. Heinous things. Things they did to you... to your kind. Things that I honestly did not believe to be true before."
"I see." Lyra nodded understandingly. "Why not?"
"Because it's so god-damn contrived!" the lawyer spat. "Stealing love? Are you kidding me?! I mean, who the fuck would have suspected that?"
"Yeah... I guess that wouldn't be most normal thing on this side of the world." the unicorn murmured.
"Ten years of professional jurisprudent work couldn't have me prepared for something like that. What the hell am I supposed to do here? This is... beyond my competence."
Lyra harrumphed and straightened herself proudly.
"Ahem - Equestrian Connection? Remember?"
The lawyer frowned.
"Ah yeah. So that's what you are supposed to do?"
"You can ask me absolutely anything, from man to mare, and I'll have an answer!"
He kneaded his hands.
"Okay - How.. how...
He tried to think of something."How did the pon... how did Equestria react to... Chrysalis' expansionism?"
"Uhm... badly."
"How badly?"
"Very badly. Back in Canterlot, everypony absolutely hates her. She's totally beyond redemption. Especially after what she did to itthe town
"Why? What did she do to there?"
"She, uh... tried to take the place and dethrone the Princesses."
"Ah, yes. Right."
He nodded bitterly. "Would you say that she would stand a chance in front of a... the court in Equestria?"
"A chance?" the unicorn asked and could only barely stifle a laugh. "She'd be on the moon before she could say 'I plead-'. Nopony out there would want her to roam free again."
Understandable. Quite understandable.
"Just as I feared." he concluded. "And what about you?"
"Um... me?" the aqua pony asked quizzically.
"What do you have to say? Would you want her dead as well?"
"Oh, you know..." she muttered nervously.
"No I don't. Do you want to see her burn?"
She looked up, pretending to think about it.
"Well... I... um... Do you?"
She noticed his face going cross once again.
"I... y-yes! Yes..."
He was not entirely convinced by the sparse statement.
"Yes? That didn't exactly sound very staunch. Try again."
Lyra grew even more nervous.
"Wrong answer? Okay... No?"
The lawyer squinted his eyes.
"Do you... have any opinion of your own, Heartstrings?" he inquired.
"I... really really cannot answer your question. I'd really like o, but I can't. I have no idea." she told him as neutrally as possible.
"You have no idea whether you want her guilty or not? Why not? You're a pony. By all means, you should want her hung, drawn and quartered."
Lyra couldn't look him in the eyes. She chose to stare on the dark floor.
"All I know is that, she wouldn't have a fighting chance in Equestria. Much unlike here."
Accusingly, Estermann pointed a finger at her.
"There is a reason you came to the defence, isn't there? And it wasn't just because the prosecution already had one. What is it about you and the Queen?"
The pony scrounged up. Estermann could sense some kind of personal agenda. But which?
"Let us say..." Estermann continued, "I would suddenly decide to fuck it all and have the Queen returned to Equestria. What would you think?"
"No, don't do that!" she exclaimed, perhaps a bit too frantically.
"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't." he said provocatively.
"Because you have no idea what things would be waiting for her back in Equestria!"
"Things such as...?" He thought for a second. "Your country doesn't do capital punishment... right?"
"Not... as such." Lyra confirmed.
"Then she'll just end up in prison. Like here. Where would a difference be whether she gets incarcerated in The Hague or in Canterlot?"
"Prison?! Oh no, they wouldn't just incarcerate her like King Sombra or any other pony... They'll exile her." the pony corrected him grimly.
Estermann was not sure if he had missed something. The last time he checked, exile was one of the most merciful of punishments in any regime.
"Exile, okay. Where to?"
"Sun, Moon, Jupiter... Mars?"
The lawyer snorted grandly.
"Oh cut the bullshit, Heartstrings."
"I'm not lying. The Royal sisters are very powerful magicians. They can easily do that! They will send her to a place where they know she would never last!"
The human just stared her down with a condescending snarl.
'Well, the guardians of the Outer Space Treaty would have something to say against that...'
"Anyway..." she murmured, "That would probably be the milder choice."
"Oh, what would the alternative be?" Estermann scoffed? "Turn her into a frog?"
"They might.. strip her of all her magic." the unicorn whispered.
"And how do they plan to do that? Lop off her horn?"
Lyra winced, and touched her own horn for reference. "That wouldn't be enough. Our horns are just there to direct and project our magic." She shuddered visbly, "Cutting it off won't remove our innate magic force. That is he magic that give her so much power over her changelings and allows her to disguise her true self. To do away with those, they will have to be stripped out of her body entirely."
Estermann scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"So... the worst thing that could happen to her... is that she'd end up without powers? You know... I don't have magic, and I am perfectly fine. Honestly, that a deal I can see myself agreeing to."
"But it won't end there either, Mr E." Lyra warned him. "She's not like you and me. he's a changeling. She needs her magic to nourish herself, and to stay in touch with her subjects."
She shook her head. "But my Princesses, they'll be making sure that not only will she lose all the magic inside her, but that she won't ever get it back, much less be able to use it. They will destroy her magical powers, they will destroy her body, they will destroy her, damning her alongside her powers into the eternal void. There might not be enough left of her once the procedure is done."
Somehow, this began to feel like the plot of a twisted Batman film to the human.
Lyra sighed and placed the coffee mug on the table.
"My point is, if you give up now, you will doom her. And it will be your fault alone."
"I... I believe can live with that." Estermann commented. He wanted to sound emotionless carefree about it, but he didn't quite cut it.
Lyra looked confused. "You'd be okay with having sent a creature off to her..."
"Death?" Estermann completed. "I'd know some individuals - ponies, like you - who would hail me as a hero if I did this; In any case, those despotic bastards are not the reason why I'm pulling this defence through.”
"So you do believe in justice for Queen Chrysalis?" the mare asked and her eyes fluttered with hope.
“No. Let's face it. Precious old Chrysalis is as guilty as a... poodle sitting next to a pile of poo."
'Wow, and what a fitting simile it is too' he thought to himself. “It’s mostly about the case itself. You know what this case once was to me?" he asked retorically and laid a hand down on his barely moving ribcage.
"What, Mr E?"
"An opportunity. First and foremost. I have been a jurisprudent for, what, almost fifteen years now. And what do I have to show for it? Absolutely – fucking – nothing. If I would ever come across a case with some significance, I would be assigned to work in the background, making phone calls, playing errand boy for some entitled bastard who bought his doctorate at the Harvard Str. School Of Economics… And always when I was put in charge of something, it was something nobody cared about. Something I didn’t care about. I mean, would you care about whether or not some little radio DJ somewhere in black Africa was doing hate speeches ten years ago during some unknown civil strive? Pipifax, nothing more.”
He swept around the room with one hand. “And now, I get my own offices, I get a mandate from the very top. I get a case of geopolitical importance. Finally the world is looking in my direction...”
“Wait…” the equine interjected, her eyes glaring with some unvented anger. “Are you saying it’s not about justice for you?”
“Oh don’t be so naïve.”
The lawyer rolled his eyes and waved his hand. “It’s always about the justice, don't get me wrong. I'm not a monster. Justice is what I came here for, and justice is why I'm going to stay. The point is that this time, it’s also about success. And progress."
He sighed. "For me, if for no one else.”
"No." Lyra interjected once more. "Mr E. It's still a living creature's life on the line - somepony who has been driven into a corner by everypony. She may not be a saint, but she's completely reliant on you doing your duty and clear her good name before the world once and for all. You can't simply wave it off like it's a silly unimportant undertaking. This is a serious issue."
The human lawyer stared at her blankly for several seconds.
"All respect to your... compassion. But..."
Then he proceeded to take out the binder he had just been carefully and discretely keeping from her.
“What is it?” Lyra asked.
“Have you seen it already?”
“Nah…” she answered as she reached out for it.
He swatted her curious hoof away like a fly.
“If you haven’t seen it, don’t touch it!”
“Alright, alright, sheesh.” She said, rubbing her hoof.
“The less people know about this mess, the better."
He clumsily stowed the binder away in his suitcase. "You know, I had quite a similar mindset like you before I got hold on this evidence. Queen Chrysalis, a 'misunderstood maltreated creature'... tomorrow at five pm, you will see, alongside the rest of the world, what she really has been up to. Prepare to have your little presumptions on Chrysalis' innocence utterly squashed."
Peacockily, the pony puffed out her chest.
"I have those 'presumptions' because I don't care for popular judgement and those nasty Changeling stereotypes everypony else seems to throw at me." she defended herself.
Estermann tapped on the binder.
"This is not a fabrication of the ponies. This has the seal of the United Nations on it. My point is that the contents of this binder may as well turn the whole trial into an open-and-shut-case just as easily as they would destroy your argument.
"You know that's not... necessarily true, Mr E..." the unicorn argued.
The lawyer was unnerved, grasping his face with his hands.
"Maybe, maybe not. You know what that means either way? It means that I will have to sit by idly and witness the prosecution utterly butcher my client. And if I try to raise my voice and actually do my job, I’ll be branded as a nuisance by the judges and the press, as an immoral bastard who has to resort to courtroom antics to postpone the inevitable. I'd either be a laughing stock or an apologist. It will be a lose-lose situation for me.”
“And for Queen Chrysalis.”
“Quite.”
He clasped his forehead with a hand. Why was he even discussing this with someone like her? Of course, she cared... was it perhaps because she was the only one who cared about Chrysalis? She was about as concerned about her as he was supposed to be.
She was a shining beacon of idealism in the ocean of cynicism the Queen's defence team was about to get marooned in.
Of course, Estermann was still wondering what her game was, why she was so bent on saving this monstrous bug... but maybe the aqua unicorn was onto something he was not. Maybe she had still the clearer outlook on the situation than him.
At least that was a hopeful thought.
Less than ten minutes later, both creatures passed through the metal detectors at the front entrance of the court building, traversing the artificial moat onto the parking lot in relative silence. Outside, the oncoming winter's air was still bitter and cold, a harsh wind was howling from the direction of the sea.
The court emptied for the day, and the next one still seemed so far away.
"It looks like snow." the defence counsel muttered as they noticed the thin frost film on the cars. "Then again, what else would you expect in winter?"
He paused, inhaling deeply, and biting his teeth. "Heartstrings... Let's give it some global warming."