XII. War for the Ear
XII
War for the Ear
Kurhaus Hotel, The Hague
19. November, 2015
4:08 am MET
The freezing morning mist had returned to the city behind the dunes.
Alexander awoke early that morning, much earlier than what he was used to. Maybe it was an indigestion from the previous evening's three-course vegan scoffing. Or maybe it was a night of unnerving nightmares he didn't remember. Whatever it was, it had robbed him of the lust to sleep.
At four in the morning, he had opened his eyes and coughed out some of the ventilated air of his room, the buzzing of the air conditioning tingling in his ears. By five, he had suited up and fled. He checked out by some red-eyed receptionist of the graveyard shift, who asked him if he should call him a cab. Estermann let the thought linger at first, but then he declined, choosing to walk out into the forsaken, shrouded suburban streets. He felt a sudden desire, one he hadn't felt in years – he wanted to stretch his legs. He wanted to contemplate his next step, just for himself and far away from other living beings.
In the glow of the still burning streetlamps, he saw the distant yellow flashes of dustcarts slowly pacing their early morning route and collecting the waste before it could spoil the onsetting day. While everything was fairly peaceful, it wasn't a silent morning. Echoing through the November moisture, he could hear the occasional siren wailing in the distance, the sound of nearby highways echoing over the roofs, and the roars of the waves rolling onto the abandoned holiday beaches up the street from where he was walking - the Netherlands being one of those few places in the world where one had to walk uphill to reach the sea.
The long-established “Schluchtenscheisser“ that he was, Estermann had always considered the sea to be something distant, something exotic. Everything that was related to it, whether it be the crisp salty air, or the layer of impregnable clouds above his head that almost never quite extended itself beyond the horizon of the Atlantic, left him suspended in a mild state of astonishment, a completely different state of mind. He regretted it that his way to the court didn't lead him by the beachside, but only down a straight road of samey upper class bungalows and muddy greengrass belts. The best he could hope for was the view on the beaches from a safe distance of his fourth floor window.
The ICC buildings weren't exactly next door, but he would probably still arrive long before the doors even opened.
He could always take a slight detour...
Pulling the flat cap over his forehead, he meandered onto the promenade, past closed and shuttered beach bars, fish restaurants and Matjes booths, their red and blue and white neon signs still switched off for the night. He realised was going to be a lonely, uneventful walk. At least the salty wind that whistled around his ears turned it ever-so slightly into a refreshing, sobering sensation.
Most extraordinarily, Estermann neither felt bleak, nor did he feel forlorn. For seemingly the first time in days, his gut was firm, tense with the adrenalin of excitement rather than fear. He didn't feel that his case was hopeless anymore, his work didn't seem futile. The talk he had the other day with the scientist convinced him that opportunity was playing him a ball - he saw possibilities and choices unfolding before him like blooming spring flowers. There was a way to bail out the Queen. How practical it was or much sense it made were matters for another time.
As he waded by the stone quay steps and contemplated the puffs of air freezing before his eyes, his body always facing the onslaught of waves rolling onto the beach from the darkness, he felt something that he had been expecting even less – his phone in his pocket suddenly began to erupt in vibration.
Did the world want him back already?
With his pale, stiff hands, he reached for the mobile, clumsily twisting it around several times before finding the right way to slide it open.
There was indeed a call incoming.
“Estermann speaking.“ he harrumphed hoarsely.
“Ahoy there. Good morning, Mr E!“ a high-pitched voice answered, jovial but quite out of breath.
In his contemplative early morning state, he didn't immediately recognise the speaker.
“Who is this? Hello?“
“Uh... it's Lyra.“
“Oh... you. Good morning, Heartstrings.” Estermann yawned, still confused. “Have you looked at the clock recently?”
“Yep. It's... um... ten past five, local human time. What'cha doing?” she asked innocently.
A speechless smile crept over his face.
“W-what I am doing? What I am doing?”
“Yup.”
“What do you think I could be doing at ten past five in the goddamn morning?!”
“I would have expected you to... you know... be asleep and stuff.”
“Yeah.” Estermann nodded haughtily.
“But... since you're already up and running for a day at the beach, I thought it was good that I wouldn't be rousing you out of bed if I called you.”
He stopped in his tracks. He had taken care to leave the hotel silently and discretely.
“How the hell do you know what I'm doing or not?”
Just turn around for a moment.”
Phone in hand, he did just that and looked in the direction of the Kurhaus. Under the yellow glow of a promenade light, he spotted the silhouette of a small equine cantering down the promenade towards him.
“Who the... Is that you?” he stuttered into the speaker, before giving it a confused glance and terminating the call.
He let the unicorn catch up with him. She had a fluttering pink scarf wrapped around her throat, and all four hooves had been stuffed into comical-looking hoof-muffs. There was an open saddle bag, chock-full with crumpled paper, strapped to her back. Floating by her right ear was a shining new mobile phone of her own.
“Have you been following me?” the solicitor inquired in a confronting voice.
“I... was in the lobby. I caught a glimpse of you checking out. I waved, but you didn't see me.” she tried to explain as she closed in.
“And what brought you to the lobby at ten past five?”
She rolled her eyes, as if she was being questioned about something ridiculous.
“I was waiting by the Fascimile Telecopying Machine. I expected an important stash of documents coming my way.”
“Fascimile Telecopying Machine? Hang on, do you mean a fax?”
She nodded avidly.
“Ah. From whom?”
“Oh, a very good friend of mine. You see, her old teacher’s son’s neighbour's boss' wife's florist's sister-in-law works as a clerk for the Equestrian Royal Geographical Society, and she was so kind as to organise a care package full of maps for me. It was just 9 am an hour ago in Canterlot, so I thought now is a good time as any to get in touch with her.“
Had the aqua mare really just developed a sudden fascination with cartography?
“Heartstrings...What are you doing?”
Giddy to answer his question, the unicorn pulled a ball of paper out of her saddle bag's stash, and catapulted it into the lawyer's unprepared hands.
“Let's see... here we have the Maps of Timbucktu and surroundings, circa 1 AD, and Trot and surroundings, circa 30 AD. I've ordered geographical maps, political maps, altitude maps... everything we could ever ask for. Well, except for the nautical maps. Mr E, please remind me to get some nautical maps!”
Struggling to hold on to the unsorted stashes of unfolding A3 papers, he stumbled forward in a futile attempt to catch all of them.
“Heartstrings! Rewind, rewind! Please explain why you've ordered all those maps of Timbuktu?” he asked her sternly. “Your efforts to discover humanity for yourself are all well and good, but don't you think there are more pressing matters you could be delving into?”
“Timbucktu, Mr E.” she aptly corrected him, whirling papers around her own head in a clumsy attempt to quickly sort them out. “Site of the first attack. I have to say, that’s some very intriguing stuff she's dug out!”
“Oh... First attack... oh.”
Only now did Estermann manage to catch on. “Have... any details on the charges been leaked?”
“Leaked? No. Last night, at precisely Zero o'clock, the prosecution made the material on the charges freely available to all whom it may concern.”
His eyes travelled up in thought as he tried to remember the previous night. But his memory terminated somewhere between nine and ten pm.
“Midnight, midnight... I think I was already in bed at midnight. Those files were probably meant only for later today.”
“I know. But what 's the classical human saying again?” she grinned, “'The early bird...'”
“...kann mich mal, I know, I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “You do love those maxims, don't you?”
“Sure do. And that's why I volunteered to man the night shift for you, just in case any documents came in.” she explained proudly before breaking into a giggle.
Her 'boss' looked over the black-and-white outlines of a medieval, tightly-packed city fastened by massive walls he held in his hands, and smiled.
That aqua unicorn impressed and elated him more and more by the moment.
“My God… you really are a gem. Are you telling me that you stayed up the whole night not only to receive the prosecution's documents before anybody else, but also to order in-depth evaluation material on its contents straight away?”
For all his gratitude, even he didn't notice her bowing her head with a quivering smile and blushing under her greenish coat. “So... do tell. What's the situation, Ms Heartstrings?”
“Oh, I just had the hardest time sleeping tonight.” she explained, still with a smile. “I don't know why. It must be those uncontrollable human weather patterns. My head feels like a hot air balloon, if you know what I mean...”
“I mean the the Queen's situation.” he clarified.
“Oh. Ahem...”
She inhaled before launching into her burst of obviously pent-up information. “The prosecution has apparently decided to focus on four separate incidents they themselves have picked out of Chrysalis' life. all happening in and around Northern Equestria, all happening in the last thousand years...”
“And... stop.” Estermann interrupted her, trying to organise the papers in his hands into a neat stack. “One thousand years, did I get that right?”
“Ugh, silly me.” she smiled and bumped her head. “I mean one thousand Equestrian years. It's a product of our... flexible annual patterns. Since we basically make our own seasons anyway, some years end up shorter, and some turn out longer. Usually shorter, though.”
She grinned. “Which is, by the way, why I have been wondering so much about those 'dastardly' human weather patterns are so unchecked...”
“Heartstrings.”
“Sorry. According to my calculations, we're going back... maybe... seven hundred human years, give or take a tenner or two.”
He let out another laugh and snorted. “Come on, listen to yourself. Are you telling me the prosecution's still intending to go back...” it took him a second to count, “...thirty… f-five generations? How is this even relevant to the Queen's case anymore?!”
“Queen Chrysalis is...”
The unicorn closed in for a hushed, supposedly unflattering remark, “...older than she looks.”
He had no idea how old the changeling 'looked', but he was certain that was still a ridiculous number,
“You're telling me Queen Chrysalis is... more than half a millennium old?”
Smirking, she shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Good.”
“She's definitely older than that. More like a whole millennium. One and a half, tops.”
His jaw was so slack that he almost needed to push it shut with the stack of paper in his hands.
“B-but that's totally nothing out of the ordinary, Mr E!” she assured him loyally. “Many ponies in Equestria can get... very very old. Some more powerful equines are even older than other... regular... very very old ponies. And creatures like Chrysalis could easily pass as those equines' seniors!”
“Ach du meine Fresse... what are you horses eating?“ he inquired half-bemused, half-blown away.
“...Hay, mostly.”
It was too early in the day for this sort of thing.
“Right, right. For... argument's sake... my client is almost a millenium old. What has she been accused of perpetrating?”
“In this case, attacking the cities of Timbucktu, Trot, Kiger and Canterlot.”
“Timbuktu... in Mali?” he enunciated with an open mouth. “Did the Queen do a stint in Africa, or am I just mixing things up again?”
“You probably are.”
She hesitated, magically stuffing her bag full of paper again. “Uh... weren't you planning to go somewhere just now?”
“I was. I was planning to get some fresh air before court opened.” he explained and pointed a thumb down the perfectly flat beachside.
She needed no second invitation.
“How about I tell you all about Timbucktu on our way there?” she grinned. “I know I'd love to get a whiff of some of that fresh human sea air!”
“So, as I said earlier, the Queen never struck any place further south than Canterlot, so... there's an interesting pattern.”
“Go on.”
Crossing small promenade plaza past an withered sandstone world war memorial, the two creatures trotted on, with brightening morning sky on their right. The oceanic wind blowing into their ears began to subside gradually, but the fog and gist began to thicken - and that, despite Lyra's best attempts to lift it from the past life and deeds of the Queen.
“Anyway.” Lyra continued her exposition, tugging her scarf with her magic, “Timbucktu is – or at least, it used to be – an enormous floating city in the skies above Mustangia, just north of Canterlot. In early 5 AD, it was assaulted by about sixteen thousand Changelings - but I have to mention that this was Equestrian 5 AD - we have a different time measurement, and AD stands for After-”
“Don't bother, I'll take your word on that.” Estermann spurred her on with a free hand, “What’s a 'floating city' though? Is it one of those... I don't know... cities on the clouds that everyone keeps gushing on about?”
“The first of its kind, in fact. It was widely considered a marvel of Pegasus workponyship before it was destroyed.”
“One Timbuktu like the other.” he nodded ironically.
“Uhm, well yeah. The town was completely razed in the attack, and about everypony living there was apparently... either enslaved by the Changelings or wiped off the face of the clouds. The overall toll was, and I quote, a 'two score of thousand ponies lost'. After destruction, the once proud city was only known as 'the citadel that fell out of the sky'. They found all sorts of records about it in the Canterlot Archives, though none went into too much detail beyond some cryptic anecdotes.”
“What about the other incidents? Were they any better documented?”
"All of them were extremely well documented... once. A lot of it was lost with time. So the more recent the attack, the less of a mystery is it for us. Take the incident at Trot, for example, almost two decades later, in early 21 ad. The modus operandi of the changelings remained mostly the same, but it had evolved, apparently. Here, there were two assaults. The first was another frontal assault from the air, but it was beaten back by the City Guard. The second was launched the following day, using a very elaborate ruse that... got a little muddled in different historical accounts.”
She skimmed a page with a fascinated cock of her eyebrows. “Nopony's quite sure what that ruse was, but the most popular myth is that of infiltration by way of a giant-”
“Let the myths be myths, Heartstrings.” Estermann waved her off and pouted condescendingly. “Leave the artistic details to the prosecution, they´ll need them. Let's stick to the facts for now. What was the death toll?”
“It was lower than in Timbucktu, around maybe Ten Thousand. The pillaging of the overrun city was interrupted by reinforcements from Equestria, led by Princess Celestia herself.
"What, are all Equestrian rulers walking cadavers now?" he laughed.
Lyra nodded cheekily. "Don´t tell her that, though. In fact, let’s better not discuss anypony’s age from now on."
"If you say so."
"Anywho, the princess had been tipped off about the first attack. She took Queen Chrysalis and her whole flock prisoner and locked them away, but they managed to escape.”
Surprised, Estermann threw a glance at the paper the unicorn was reading off of, but it was still in Equestrian.
“Is that so? That's nice to know. Her Royal Highness is no stranger to captivity then?”
Lyra shrugged. “And then she high-tailed it out of there. But how? That's another thing nopony can explain. She just... bam!”
The pony skipped on the sandy brick for emphasis.
“Bam?”
“She just smashed her way through a mountainside with the force of a fully grown dragon. And mind you, it was meant to be an inescapable prison!”
“Oh well, and the Titanic was meant to be an unsinkable ship. Moving on.”
“Aye aye." She flipped a page. "The next incident took place many years later, in 259 ad. It was one of a series of severe changeling raids, which had become something of a weekly occurrence by then. So by that point, the Equestrian Royal Guard had actually long caught on. They sent an entire brigade of soldiers to garrison up towns on the frontiers in northern Equestria, with another brigade securing the outskirts. But the changelings turned the tables, intercepting them on the outskirts of Kiger, the hamlet they were heading to. Apparently, the Guards found themselves hopelessly outnumbered. They fought, but they didn’t last long. So they tried to negotiate with the Changelings. The Changelings supposedly ignored them, and there was a massacre – the brigade was lost to a colt.”
“Brilliant.” Estermann snarked.
Absent-mindedly, he began to search his pockets with one hand, holding on to the Equestria expert’s paper with the other.
“Drunk with victory, they then sacked Kiger too, just for good measure, I suppose. All in all, there were about twenty thousand ponies taken out.”
The lawyer sniffed and nodded. “Any records about Changeling casualties?”
He heard her turn a page.
“Nah. Nothing. I guess nopony bothered to keep toll.”
“Probably because there wasn’t anyone quite alive enough left to keep counting.” Estermann mumbled and followed up with a humourless laugh, “Who was the commanding officer on the scene?”
“Uh, a certain Lord Cleaver from the Royal Mustangia Cavalry.”
“On the Changelings’ side, Lyra!”
“Well… Queen Chrysalis, I guess.”
“Does it say Queen Chrysalis was in command of the Changelings?”
She turned another page.
“Nope. It says nothing concrete about the command-”
“That’s what I wanted to know.” Estermann smirked. “This is what we'll hold them to. And what about Timbucktu? What about... that place after Timbucktu?”
“Nada, Mr E." she declared and shook her head. "You're right though. I have been feeling rather queasy reading through these manuscripts myself,simply because you have to take its word that Chrysalis was even around."
Then he glanced up at him with a concerned look. "But good luck doing anything about it."
"What does than mean?" he inquired, challenged.
“Queen Chrysalis' 'involvement' in all three attacks is... is... well... common knowledge. It's the first thing any filly learns in history class. Like that one famous mourning soliloquy of Starswirl The Bearded...” She shuddered and ground her teeth. “Ugh, I hated that one. Fifty-five verses, by heart?! Really, Ms Holly?”
“I am not 'any filly', Lyra.” the lawyer reminded her. “Common knowledge is a... dangerous substance. Who, do you think, makes this common knowledge?”
“Hm… I’d think everypony adds their share.”
“And?” he asked, “Would you trust ‘everypony’? Would you let some random loudmouthed, drunken yarn spinner from the boondocks of Equestria contribute to your defence? It would never pass in court.”
She had to blow her pony lips hard on that question.
“Now, I know not everypony’s always gonna be honest with us...”
“Oh bless your heart, Lyra.” the human moaned. “Let me tell you a little story from our own history.”
“I'm all ears!” she grinned with automatic enthusiasm.
“Then hold onto them...”
He stared out into the sea. “A little less than three hundred years ago, an old man walked into the parliament of the most powerful empire in the world. He was a sailor who had an interesting story to tell. He complained to the mightiest people of their time that his ship was boarded by the coast guard of a much-hated rival nation. The soldiers ravaged the ship, stole as much as they could carry, and battered their way through anyone who dared stand in their way. Before they left, they pinned the old man down and sliced off his left ear with a cutlass. He carried it around as a novelty bauble ever since, his ear.”
Lyra's own ones folded inward painfully at the mention.
“Oh- ouch! What the hay did they do that for?”
“That's what the people in the parliament asked. They couldn't comprehend the impunity of soldiers plundering the ship of another nation, torturing the sailors, and then getting away with it scot-free. The empire was vying for revenge.”
“What happened?”
“Simple. They couldn't let this crime go unpunished. So they declared war. They marched on the dreaded foe over land and over sea. Battles were fought over two continents and three oceans for almost ten years. More than twenty-five thousand people threw away their lives in the fight. And it laid the basis for a century worth of conflict and continuation wars. By all standards, this was one of the first modern world wars ever.”
He shook his head. “All over an old man's ear.”
“Weird.” the unicorn commented and weighed the odds. “But to be quite honest... those soldiers really shouldn't have done that thing. I mean, that was heinous! They kinda had it coming!”
“Now here is the really despicable part.” the lawyer interjected. “It was all a damn lie.”
The pony's big eyes shrunk. “C-come again?”
“The old man's story. It was made up. He probably never was boarded by soldiers, and neither had he ever been tortured.”
Estermann grinned morbidly. “He was a convicted smuggler who had lost his damn ear in a drunken brawl many years beforehand.”
Perplexed, the unicorn fell silent.
“I don't get it. Why did he say all those things then?”
Esterman just shrugged. “Some say it was because he was senile and crazy and couldn't tell reality from his imagination. Others say it was because he was a lonely bastard who sought fame and recognition for something that never happened to him. Again others say he was paid off by a minister and told to give the empire a good casus belli against the enemy.”
Contently, the lawyer clarified, “But the point is moot. Because if we learn anything from this, we come to one important conclusion. Lyra...”
She ducked uncomfortably before answering.
“That there are many ponies who are either deceitful or self-centered and occasionally gullible... dummies.”
“Ah, not quite.” he answered, “It proves how far you can go with a good story, in the right place, at the right time. If it rings the Zeitgeist, it rings true.”
“I’m pretty good at spotting a fake.” Lyra immediately boasted.
“Yes, but you don’t need to be liar to tell a lie. Like I said, Heartstrings, there are plenty of morons and lunatics out there who'd eat their own navel fluff if you told them it was candy floss.”
“Ew. Don't they need some sort of evidence to go along with their story so this sort of thing doesn't happen?” she asked. “I mean, anypony could otherwise come along and spoon something completely ridiculous. ”
“And they do. All the time.” the lawyer concurred. “But the problem is, even if your story is factual, how can you back it up at times? Often, you don't have more to support your account than the clothes on your back, and...”
He looked up and down her mare's body, “sometimes, not even that.”
The mare shook her head.
"Okay, I don't get it. So how can we know what's lies and what's the truth?"
That question even left Estermann stumped, even if only for a second.
“Well, for starters, lies only become lies once they're disproved. The same goes for misconceptions and... facts otherwise potentially diverging from reality. It doesn't need to be right, it only needs to be not wrong."
Again, he shrugged. “The truth is... a malleable substance, Heartstrings. It is the version of events that the judges, gathering from the sum of both parties’ arguments, have decided to agree upon.”
He smirked. “Hey now, there’s a valuable maxim for you!”
“And here was I, thinking the truth is all facts.”
“All facts are truthful. But not all of truth is factual. See the difference?”
And with that, he reached for something inside his breast pocket. “As I said, good luck finding facts, asserting facts, presenting facts... But in the meantime, you need have to get evidence ready. Something to fill the gaps, at least for the interim.”
“Even... even if it involves an ear that was never cut off in the first place?”
Estermann bared his teeth as he smiled.
“If available...”
He pulled something out. It was little package of cigarettes. “You don't have a problem with the defence taking a determined position in their client's favour, do you?”
“Well...” Lyra choked. Her eyes softened somewhat, and after some moral-sorting time, she admitted. “I guess not. But what's the price?”
“As you can see, it's not like the prosecution is shying away from it either. We just shouldn't be lagging behind.” the lawyer clarified defensively. Shaking a cigarette poking out of the package, he raised his eyebrows in alert.
“Speaking of which... What I really want to know at this time is where Pierman and her thugs get their ideas from – and get their certainty from! – that Chrysalis actually was present in Timbucktu and elsewhere. If it's all bluff and baseless conjecture, then fine. But... if it turns out there's more to their case than the old hearsay and ancient mythology... then we've got a problem.“
Lyra’s big round eyes tracked the cigarette's way out of the pocket and to the human’s lips.
“And… and by… ancient… I mean problem… do you… do you mean...”
“Hm?” Estermann mumbled as he pulled out a cigarette with his mouth.
Her look glistened hungrily.
“Sorry to bother… but is that a smoking stick? A real one?”
“Ahm… well yes.”
Lyra showed off her equine buckteeth in an innocuous smile.
“Need a light?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“How the hell do you even know what this is?”
“I read about it.” she stated curtly. “How about… I give you fire, and in return… I could try out one of those sticks?”
Her eyes melted into a pleading gaze. “Pretty please?”
Estermann was all but lost for words at the mare’s request. The last time he had ever heard of a horse smoking was in a newspaper article about some bizarre animal abuse lawsuit in a circus.
“You… do know it’s unhealthy, right?”
She shrugged.
“You’re doing it, too.”
“Well, I have a death wish and I’m not pregnant. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m... trying to fit in.” she stuttered, still bathing in innocence. “Besides… being unable to sleep is pretty unhealthy already.”
Slowly, he thought about it before nodding, and - not literally - coughing up another cigarette.
“I like you.”
In return, as promised, he found the tip of his cigarette suddenly bursting into bright orange flames - almost as if by magic. ”Many thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Mishter E.”
Before long, the mare - as funny as she looked with the thing in her mouth - lit hers too, and inhaled deeply… before beginning to cough and splutter uncontrollable puffs of white smoke.
“Don’t breathe it, for God’s sake.” the lawyer tardily advised her. “Puff it.”
“Not…” she coughed, pressing tears out of her great amber eyes, “Not exhactly like on the poshtersh, huh?”
“Is it ever?”
Her horn glowing, she resumed to shuffling around her saddlebag, though not without another coughing fit interrupting her foray.
“Anywho... Shpeaking of… of fact… here’sh inshident No. 4...”
“Hit me.” Estermann puffed resolutely.
But he noticed the pony's tear-stained eyes once again scrutinising him. “Not literally. Just tell me about it.”
She hesitated, caughed once more, then harrumphed, “The… the invashion of Canterlot, on April 21sht, 1003.”
“1003?” Esterman repeated. He did the math. “That must have been... very recent, right?”
“Roughly two and a half yearsh ago, yep.” Lyra confirmed, clearing her throat.
“Now... that’s quite a gap right there! Almost eight hundred yearh of... white noise...”
“I guesh that’sh why Chryshalish managed to catch everypony sho off-guard. Nopony would have thought that the Changelings would attack again after all thoshe yearsh. Eshpeshially not Canterlot, of all plashesh.”
She smirked slightly, impressed by the very idea, and shook her head. “It wash unheard of.”
“Canterlot’s... your capital, isn't it?” he recalled, “The lion’s den.”
“The heart of Equeshtria...”
Her smile faded. She slowed down a little in thought. “It sheemsh… it sheemsh like this time it was... pershonal. Queen Chryshalish wash going shtraight for the Princheshesh, not looking left or right, never mind the oddsh.”
“So you’re saying Chrysalis was there in person?” the counsel, once again, made sure.
"I..."
Lyra looked like she was about to answer straight away, but she fell silent.
"Yes, well, out with it."
There was an awkward moment of waiting.
The unicorn's eyes began glazing in the autumn frost.
“Uh, Lyra... Aufgemerkt! Was Chrysalis there?”
Another second passed.
Then she let out a big puff and a loud splutter of a cough, and that broke her out of her brief silence.
“I...Yesh. Yesh she wash.” she answered, her diction a little heavier than before. “She... led the attack on the capital... that day.”
Curious, the lawyer looked down to the pony trotting next to him.
“Is that well-documented? Eye witnesses? Photos? The whole lot?”
Her head bobbed around in thought as she trotted. Suddenly, she looked ever-so-slightly distressed.
“Lyra...” the lawyer sang melodically. “Talk to me. Don't nod off now.”
Then she suddenly broke, her voice void of emotion,
“I shaw her. I wash there.”
The lawyer’s cigarette shot out of his mouth like a missile, descending over the beach in a wide, smoky arc.
“...What?”
“Yeah...” she mumbled, chewing around on her cig, “Funny shtory, actually. Mother of all koinkidinks...”
The lawyer just glared and spluttered, rather helplessly too,
“Didn’t you think.. that was an important thing to mention... before you applied at my defence team?”
“I... should have probably told you a lot shooner, huh?” she assumed artlessly.
“Oh no, no. You could have waited until Christmas and broken it to me under a mistletoe. Of course you fucking should have!” he exclaimed, overly loudly.
“Doesh… doesh this change shomething?” she gulped, suddenly very scared at the notion of having evidently said too much for her own good, “Doesh it make me a… wittnesh or shomething?”
The lawyer mournfully looked after his cigarette as is slowly extinguished on the pavement.
“I don’t know. You... weren’t caught in the fighting or something like that, were you?”
“Uh… in the fighting? No. Not in the fighting.”
“Well. That’s good.” the lawyer shrugged. “Did you see Chrysalis yourself?”
Scared, the unicorn nodded. “With my own eyesh.”
The lawyer nodded in accord. Then he let out a mighty, “Shit. Now that’s a fact if there ever was one. Come on, what else did you see?”
“Not much. The whole ordeal wash quickly over anyway.” she then added, “The ashault ended when Canterlot'sh protective forche field got reshtarted. Chryshalish and her army were shwept into the air… jusht like that. Never to be sheen again.”
“Or not.” Estermann confirmed.
He remembered the story faintly, probably from the papers or on TV. “How many casualties were there even?”
“There were no fatal onesh thish time around. The fight wash over before the any sherioush damage could be done.”
“Oh. That’s good as well, I suppose.”
He sniffed pensively, then realised something. “Very good in fact. It clears up the situation quite a bit, actually."
"It doesh?" the mare made sure.
"The worse the allegations, the poorer is it documented. And the clearer the documentation, the more meager the crimes.”
“And… that’sh good?”
“Absolutely. It could mean that the allegations against her are only growing more severe with time. A thief yesterday, tomorrow a traitor. Just shows the power word of mouth can have in shaping the Equestrian narrative.”
He harrumphed. “Speaking of which, I might have to ask you about some things about Canterlot. I want to know everything! Tell me all you can remember. I need to know what - and who - happened on that day.”
She nodded, uneasy.
“Yesh... I shupposhe I should."
Eventually, as the hands on Estermann's watch slowly but surely moved towards the Seven, he and Lyra decided to leave the beach as it was and descended back into the city streets below, quickly venturing down a broad avenue as the first signs of sentient life awakened around them.
The sun was but a pale orange disc lurking from behind the chimneys and antennae of the bordering rowhouses. It threw a weak light through the fog that only managed to illuminate little more than the still burning lanterns.
Ultimately, they reached the curve of a long brick wall. Behind it already lay the Alexanderkazerne, and within it, the ICC.
“What about Queen Chryshalish?” Lyra asked after some time of thoughtful silence.
“What about her?”
“What are we even going to shay in her defenche? Here we are, dishcushing about how, but not what.”
Uncomfortably, the counsel felt his neck.
“I'm... torn. There are only two things we can do. The first is quite the classic: We deny everything. We have to convince the rest of the world that the prosecution's case isn't worth the paper it's printed on.”
He gnashed his teeth a little. “Which, under those circumstances, might or might not be easier said than done.”
“What'sh the other thing?”
He involuntarily flashed back to the 'talk' he had with the judge and the scientist. Raising his head and looking into the pale sun, he continued,
“The alternative is that... we embrace it.”
Lyra stayed silent, at first. Then the cigarette, long extinguished in the cold air, almost flopped out of her gaping mouth.
“Wait, what?”
“We can say, it happened. It all happened. From Timbucktu to Canterlot... it happened.”
Even in the bare morning light, he could see the unicorn's very fur turn ashen.
“You cannot do that. I told you before... we shouldn't give up jusht that!"
The mare almost whimpered, "P-pleashe tell me there'sh a 'but' in there shomewhere!”
“But we'd just be putting our own twist on the matter.”
“Will thish help the Queen'sh cashe at all?”
“Don’t swallow your cigarette, Lyra."
He swayed his free hand around soothingly.
"Hear me out first. We'd say that... the Queen did not know what she was doing, because she was not in control of herself.”
“...Wash she posheshed by shomepony?“ asked confused.
Cluelessly, the lawyer's eyes looked up.
“Uh... no. I mean to say that the Queen was at the mercy of instinctual impulses which drove her to such drastic actions.“
He couldn’t help but frown a little as he witnessed the eyes of the unicorn squint.
“An... inshanity defenche, then?“
“If you will.“
“...No.” she just stated.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Yesh. I mean no. I mean...”
Jumbled up, Lyra shook her head. “Shorry, Mr E. But that’sh… a terrible idea.”
The attorney was concerned by her reaction.
“Why?”
The unicorn sniffed indignantly.
“Chryshalish not knowing what she wash doing? Come on. She’sh the Queen of all changelingsh! Even after she mashterminded thoshe ginormous ashaults on Equeshtria´sh largesht chitiesh all by her lonely shelf, you´re telling me she washn't even in her right mind?”
“She’s a changeling, isn't she!“ the lawyer defended himseld, inadvertedly beginning to parrot the pony scientist´s thesis, “She´s driven by the most basic of instincts. She has no control over how she...” His words got stuck in his mouth as he thought about what he was saying. They began to sound more inane by the moment, “...commands her subjects.”
“Sherioushly?” the Equestria expert made sure. “You can´t be telling me that the... the... devioushly brilliant exhecution of the assault on Trot wash the reshult of dumb luck.“
“Okay... That option is a last resort, by the way.” he carefully admitted, before adding, “But curiously, it's backed by the scientific community.”
“Which one?” the unicorn started to interrogate with a sharp, critical tone.
Estermann didn’t like that tone one bit, but he felt that her opinion on this matter too important to just pass over.
“I don’t know. Some hippologist pony from Canterlot. What was his name? Chemical Bond, or something like that. Covalent Bond, maybe...”
“Not shomepony I’ve ever heard of.” the unicorn pondered.
Doubtful, the attorney rolled his eyes.
“Oh Wunder... there´s actually something you don´t know?“
She just squinted indignantly.
“Hey, I wash at the Royal Canterlotian for almosht shixhty moonsh. I had a lot of hippologisht... contactsh back when I wash conducting shome important reshearch of my own. I could name the entire faculty by heart.”
Her voice mellowed. “Lishten. Whoever that pony wash, he musht have been blowing hot air at you. You’ve sheen the Queen. You know what she’sh like. She’sh not a dumb animal. She’sh a pony. Like... like me, funnily enough. Maybe even like you. Every shingle thing she’sh done up to thish point hash shome rock-hard logic behind it.”
"Oh... of course, Heartstrings.“ Estermann finally yielded, his voice thick with disgruntled sarcasm. ”You must know, obviously. After all, it was you who saw the Queen, not me.“
She nodded avidly, but froze halfway through, uncomfortable.
"Y-what?"
“Yes. After all, it was you who stood face-to-face with her, gave her a peck on the cheek and then had these hour-long talks about her motivations over some tea and almond cake.“
“Now wait a minute...“ she suddenly spluttered.
“What? Wasn't it so?“ he asked haughtily. “My mistake, sorry. It just sounded like you have known her half your life. And that, even though you just said you weren't even where the fighting was on that one day."
That, rather awkwardly, left the unicorn at an utter loss of words. Her eyes quickly searched the brick road beneath her traveling hooves.
“What makes you so sure she had a rock-solid agenda behind everything she did? Hell, even I don't always have a rock-solid agenda, and I'm a fucking solicitor!“
The mare seemed to shrink into herself, trudging alongside him rather embarrassed. She waved her head as if she tried to find something to say, but couldn't think of anything good.
“No offence, Heartstrings. I know you only intend the best - for whatever rhyme or reason it may be. You're good at what you're doing right now, getting sourcework done and such. And that's that."
He pointed a warning finger down at her, "Don't be the drunken yarn-spinner from the boondocks of Equestria. Don't get involved in things you couldn't possibly know anything about.“
“No...“ she grovelled.
“I need people I can trust with what they do. The only thing I have left on this world is serious professional advice.“ he scoffed on, riling himself up by the second. “Because as far as I’m concerned, a pony's only good to be ridden and sliced up for sausage. How the hell am I supposed to make myself a picture of one's 'inner workings'?”
The human realised too late, in shock, what he had just said to whom.
He and his big mouth!
Hiding an embarrassed expression under his brows, his lips tightened involuntarily. He let out a shaky breath into icy air, and gave the downtrodden pony an unwilling shake of its head.
“Oh. Once again... no... no offence, Heartstrings...“
”None taken...” Lyra just whispered meekly, still gawking at the passing ground. “But It's jusht that... I mean... look at it from the other shide. Think what thish might accomplish. You'd turn the queen and all her shubjects into... into...”
”...mindless animals?” Estermann guessed non-chalantly. ”Well, I'm aware of that. But in times like these, loss of face is considered much less cruel than...” he gesticulated towards Lyra's own horn, ”...the loss of limb. Don't you agree?”
”It's jusht not right. You´d be putting her on the shame level ash shome... bitey dog.” she just kept on metaphorising.
”Well, of course it's going to keep sounding bad if you keep putting it that way!” came the attorney's irritated reply.
"Sho..."
"What?!"
”Mr E... what do they do with bitey dogsh in this world? Mr E?” the unicorn inquired.
The defence counsel didn't know where the was intending to take him, but he didn't like it.
“Lyra..."
It wasn't long until they spotted the red and green lights of the access road and guardhouse to the court premises shining through the mist just shy of the next corner.
But his relief began to subside somewhat as he started to hear to the sounds of someone loudly causing ruckus just ahead.
“Oh, what now?”
Lyra just shrugged. “I can't shee a thing in thish fog.”
As she attempted to peer through the opaque veil, Lyra barely avoided bumping into a plastic stick that poked out of the grass on the sidewalk's verge. “Oh dear Cheleshtia. Who put that there?”
The next moment one of her hooves jammed into something warm and cushiony. Someone or something let out a muffled yelp of pain. The mare clenched her teeth and jumped to the side with the agility to a goat, landing right in front of Estermann's path.
There was a sleeping bag on the side of the road, almost right up to the perimeter wall, and inside the bag lay a balding man with a red face that was covered by stubble and a nylon cap.
“Krijg de tering, you jackass!“ he coughed up to the shocked mare in broken English.
Estermann was as surprised as her, but his nature immediately made him step up with immediate counter-aggression,
“Find a shelter, you dirty bum!”
He then quickly motioned to the unicorn to back away.
“Oh Luna! I didn't shee him either! What you think wash he doing lying in the middle of the path?”
The lawyer looked ahead, finally coming into viewing distance of the gate.
“I don't know. The question should be what they're all doing here.”
For a moment, both creatures assumed that they had somehow taken the wrong turn and wandered into a camp site; scattered on the grass and pavement on both sides of the gate were at least a dozen sleeping bags and small tents, some abandoned, but most not.
Several people were backed up against the pedestrian gate at the side of the road, yelling some Dutch rudeness at a lone security officer on the other side of the fence who was trying to ward them off by shining his torchlight in their faces.
“Are... they trying to get into the court?” Lyra asked, dumbfounded. “I know the court'sh an intereshting plashe and all, but come on.”
Besides the odd canteen or wrapped sandwich, there were rolled-up banners and several signs resting on the wet lawn, as well as a few drooping flags stuck in between the tiny tents.
“And what is this supposed to be, anyway? Moccupy The Hague?” Estermann snarked to his unicorn companion.
The mare just bit her lip nervously, faintly taking in the cold wind around her. “They sheem angry. There'sh a lot of... rage in the air.”
Respectfully, she tried to push her 'boss' away from the sleeping bags. “We... should probably try to keep our dishtanche.”
“What do you mean, keep our distance?” he argued, driving her in front of him. “They're camping right in front of the main entrance! How are we going to get inside?”
“I wonder where they shuddenly came from.” the unicorn wondered. “I don't remember them being here yeshterday.”
Rounding the besieged gate in a rather wide arc, the two finally spotted a small group of better dressed individuals cowering behind the gatehouse, arms folded and hands in pockets, nervously packing away their court IDs. They appeared to be random court officials that had also turned up early, and weren't able to find a way around the mob.
But among them, the counsel ultimately spotted a somewhat higher profile countenance.
“Mr Estermann.” an elderly African woman sighed, grasping a steaming cup of Darjeeling in her gloved hands.
It was the head judge of the panel.
“Dr Suruma... how do you do?”
“Your Lordship!” Lyra exclaimed in surprise and gave a small bow of her head.
The judge looked none too pleased.
“You wouldn't know what all this commotion is about?”
The lawyer and the Equestrian expert shrugged.
“We jusht got here.” Lyra explained.
Suruma mustered the mare's frozen fur and the defence counsel's pale chilly skin.
“Have you walked all the way? You must have a death wish.”
"Oh, that'sh jusht him. Not me." the unicorn explained matter-of-factly.
Confused, the judge mustered them some more and pointed accusingly at the crowd behind them.
“You've got nothing on those picketers, though. They must have been camping here for hours. And now they're waking up and starting to cause trouble, scaring off my staff and all the ponies from the Embassy. The guards here don't want to risk of letting the picketers in alongside us, so they locked all the gates. North Entrance, West Entrance, they're all closed."
“Why not call the police?” Estermann asked the obvious question.
“They're on their way.” the judge confirmed, sipping her tea. “My God. It's the second time in a week we had to call them out here.”
She glanced over to the defence counsel. “I really hoped you could talk to those... rabble-rousers.”
Estermann cocked his head at that. But before he could say ask whatever gave her that idea, Lyra valiantly jumped to his side,
“Why Mr E?”
The judge just shrugged her shoulders and took another sip.
“For the last half hour, those hooligans have been screaming about how 'Justice is a whore who is rotten to the core' and how we're 'dishing out the law at a fixed price'. It stood to reason that the defence, of all parties, could know something about the situation that we don't.”
Astonished by their apparent supporters, Estermann and the unicorn exchanged surprised looks. This was one thing they had not considered happening.
“Well, I know nothing. I have no idea where they've suddenly sprung from.” he explained haplessly. “The last thing I would get involved in ranting against my own court.”
“I didn't say that.” the judge clarified. “But I think that all those people seem to have something to say against the trial, for whatever reason. Can't you talk to them?”
Disbelievingly, he shook his head. "You don't really think those wannabe-poets are fighting for my client's freedom.”
The judge and the others flinched slightly as someone loudly smacked a plastic bottle against the perimeter fence.
“I have seen riots started over unlikelier things, my learned friend.”
The sun had risen over the streets now.
Pacing over to the guardhouse, Suruma she glanced around the corner and surveilled the rabble-rousers.
“I have seen quite a few bomber jackets and jackboots among them, Mr Estermann. I know what crowd they're from. You should be careful.“
She looked toward Lyra. “And you too Ms...”
“Heartshtringsh.“
The old lady's expression hardened instantly. Before either Lyra or Estermann could ask what the matter was, she shot out her free hand and yanked the cigarette from the unicorn's mouth.
The judge, gritting her teeth in protest, inspected the stogie – it had gone out after her first and only puff, but the filter was chewed beyond recognition.
“Mr Estermann...“ she exclaimed and glared at the attorney. “Are you giving your equine employees cigarettes?“
Lyra looked between the two humans as the solicitor defensively raised his hands.
“...Won't happen again.“
“Really now. I thought better of you.“
“You did?“ he muttered doubtfully.
“Jesus Christ...“ Suruma just moaned, flinging the cigarette into the gutter and turning away.
Her head low, Lyra bashfully cantered over to her boss, as though she wanted she wanted to apologise for the trouble.
“I suppose that was already enough 'fitting in' for one day. Now, what do we do about the mob?“
“If it's not dispersed soon, I think I might just as well go on to Chrysalis. Join her for breakfast and such.“
“Oh.“ she confirmed, slowly sorting the papers back into her saddlebag. “And... what about me?“
“Do you know how to use a scanner?“
Her old smile instantly came back to her.
“Ha, give me ten minutes with one of these things, and I'll figure it out somehow.“
Estermann nodded, then started handing the pony back her files one by one.
“Very good. Scan these files, and ask someone to upload them on e-court. We will sit-rep the situation at noon in our offices, once I have asked the Queen some probing questions.“
“Yes sir!“
He harrumphed and rubbed his hands. “Now... to get out of this damn cold...“
And as if sent from heaven above, the gate was illuminated by four orange-tinted headlights.
The next moment, Estermann could make out a very elegant black limousine, with wheelcaps of polished silver and the windows tinted grey, rolling onto the pavement.
“Wowzers. What... is that?“ Lyra asked.
“Looks like a... Rolls Royce.“
Why did this remind him of something?
Before the car even came to a halt, one of the windows dropped, and a short hoof poked out. Seemingly on its own, it searched out Estermann and Heartstrings from the small crowds of people by the roadside. With some avid waves, it beckoned them closer.
Intrigued – more by the car than anything else – the lawyer crept over and peeked down into the car's darker innards. There, he came across the face of a beaming young pony he could also not immediately remember.
“Alexander! How nice to meet you here.“
Why, it was the right honourable Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“Oh... you?“ the lawyer stammered, leaning against the doorframe. “Fancy seeing you too. What a... nice vehicle you have there.“
“I'm glad you like it. I wrote down that name you gave me yesterday, 'Rolls-Royce', and I asked if I could use one to move around quicker. And they just sent this carriage right over! What do you make of that?“
“Well, of course they'd bend over backwards when royalty commands it.“ he laughed. “What are you doing? Going somewhere in particular, or just enjoying your time?“
“Oh you.“ she winked. “I wanted to check on my big brother before I did anything else.“
“You're going to Belgisch Park?
“The dungeon... uh... prison?“
She nodded.
Discretely, he pointed at the besieged gate behind him.
“You see, my business here concluded a little earlier than expected. Would it be troublesome to ask if you could give me a lift?“
Her eyes widened. “Troublesome? Of course not! I was the one asking you for a lift not ten hours ago. Hop in!“
Pleased as punch, Estermann turned around for Lyra.
But to his shock, he found the unicorn nowhere near him. She had suddenly vanished from his side.
Instead, he found something entirely else.
The protesters who camped on the promenade lawn amidst the protest signs were coming crawling out of their shells.
They stared at the idle limousine like hungry vultures.
There was a special brand of hate in their eyes, something between envy and fear, fueled by their resentment of the establishment, and the high and mighty sitting in their glass towers and making deals with those stupid alien non-human creatures while they themselves were left to rot in their own ignorance. Or at least, that's what they thought was happening.
The lawyer read the signs they slowly began to pick up, and the banners they cautiously unfurled... "Yoke Or Yield!" was one of the nicer ones. "Glue is Thicker Than Blood", much less so.
They held back, for the moment.
At least, until Twilight Sparkle herself glanced out the window, fully revealing herself to the mob.
One of them, a tall leader-ish character in a brummagem raincoat, pointed at her and shouted something rousing. And immediately, the others grabbed their signs and flags and pounced.
The flight response took hold of the lawyer as he immediately ripped open the car door and forced himself in by the baffled alicorn's side.
As soon as the car door was once again closely shut behind them, the princess and the lawyer flinched as the first protesters reached the limousine and began clapping and pounding on the windows, as if trying to reach and drag out the terrified passengers.
One of them pressed a leather girdle against the pane, and indicated that he would have rather liked to put it on the alicorn.
For all intents and purposes, those fists and spread palms, those shouting gob and sneering faces, did manage to scare the Princess horseapple-less.
With shrunken irises, she slowly extended her wings, like she was readying to take off at a moment's notice.
Estermann was just as terrified in the spur of the moment, but he tried not to show it. He stared forward stonily with a disgusted expression.
At some point the chauffeur took a hint and kicked the accelerator, nimbly swerving the elegant vehicle out of the court driveway.
Estermann could catch a glimpse of the gatehouse speeding away from him at a breakneck pace, together with an aqua unicorn that stood hiding behind the guard hut.
Once the car outran the mob, dodging the odd glass bottle, brick or paper cup slithering across the roof, the lawyer sunk into his seat and took a deep breath out.
The alicorn was, almost in reverse, even more anxious than before.
“W...what was that just now?“ she inquired, her wings still twitching.
“Fucking animals.“ he mumbled. “No offence.”
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Thanks for updating! I love this take on HiE or is it PoE... uhhh, Love the story anyway!
Estermann keeps assuming, so he keeps making an ass out of himself. In case he's noticed that he's been proven wrong at half the corners he turns, he really oughtta shut the fuck up and listen to others until they're done saying their part. His know-it-all attitude has only been a hindrance.
That said... Dan, what's with the missing words all along the chapter?
6518707
He's a lawyer. It's his natural state of being.
Also, what words are missing?
Just in case nobody has said it yet, i'm calling it; Lyra's a changeling.
6518732 At several points of the text, there are words missing in the sentences. It gets especially apparent when Estermann and Lyra get close to the embassy and see the camping rioters.
6523886
...That's slightly worrying. Are you sure?
I see only one. I'm really worried that I may have missed more in proofreading.
Oh great, humanists, just what we need! (sarcasm )
Keep going! ;)
that tragedy marker makes me afraid to start this one, I generally appreciate lawyering with ponies, but I'm more the turnabout storm type, preferring the court cases to have high stakes but play out more like an ace attorney game.
6529458
I know what you mean.
Even so, don't let the 'Tragedy' tag intimidate you. There weren't any appropriately named 'Thriller' or 'Drama' tags I could choose, so I just picked the next-best thing.
The stakes are still high and there will be courtroom scenes, only more down-to-earth and realism-bound than in an AA game.
For what it's worth (coming from me), I suggest: Give it a try.
6529781
ace attourneys have always been great to me because they're fantastical representations of actual court room issues,
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/articles/view/video-games/issues/issue_253/7530-Phoenix-Wright-s-Objection
this kind of goes over that. to me ponies always seemed like a strange but almost natural fit with their supernatural bent but facing the most humble of issues, like making friends.
You missed a quotation mark at the start of Lyra's sentence here:
Also, while I'll follow this purely because of the idea behind it, there's many things that grate. Namely:
1. The sheer stupidity of the human characters (and arguably equine ones as well)
2. Have you ever talked with a durry (smoke) before? It's hardly a burden on the speech and while I get where you're coming from with it, the 'smoke-talk' irritated after a while. Maybe just cut back on it a tad?
3. Please let Chrysalis be more inventive than just calling him 'worm' one hundred times over, there's so many other insults you can pull out.
Why is Chrysalis so ignorant for just how screwed she is? It seems like she's no more then a brat who has never been put in the real world of politics. I would think by now she would see that her normal yelling and tempera tantrums aren't going to work. But she still refuses to except that she is but a small fish in a very large pond.
Alright, everypony - the story's category tags have finally been updated.
Just read this thing over three days. Excellent work and looking forward to more.
Silent Hill: Attack of the Bums
Thousand years old and more? Surely she merely attacked like a rebellious teen, lashing out like a fool and Celestia is that kid with grudge problems.
Chrys is devious NOW but ya gotta learn it somewhere right? Perhaps she learned then, then 800 years later decided NOT to kill the elements given the chance. Bettin 800 years prior she wouldn't hesitate. I'm calling age as an argument. Imagine if Celestia was older than chrys at that time and the defense claims that subjectively comparing their ages together Celestia was beating on a child, eh?
I thought this was supposed to be "bitty dog" (as in itty-bitty) until I saw you use it a few more times.
The spelling you meant was "bitey" (bite-y). The "e" is necessary to make the long "i" sound clear by giving the "t" something to bind to so the syllable is parsed as "bi-t" rather than "b-it" and, if you drop it, the intent is ambiguous.
That aside, you've finally made me understand why some authors are so adamant in their books and workshops on writing when they say to not attempt to portray accents in your writing.
Parsing the cigarette-slurred words in your dialogue was a major pain in the ass and really sucked a lot of enjoyment out of reading this chapter. (Especially examples like like "Cheleshtia", where the "ch" is supposed to make an "sh" sound, but this isn't written in French, so that's not something the reader expects strongly enough.)
"Mr. Author, are you giving your characters reason to be hard to comprehend?"
I'm glad to see you've corrected that, but, as a UI/UX (User Interface/Experience) design guy, I really need to point out that, if you have to say "Don't let X scare you off", you've already lost, because, for every person who talks to you, there will be orders of magnitude more who just assume the worst without ever speaking up.
(That's also something they talk about in other disciplines like advertising where you tend to have just one chance at making a favourable first impression.)
From this chapter, I getting that Chrysalis may just be an inherited name, like Henry VIII, or Louis XVI. That this Chrysalis is this generation of changelings leader, and the others have been ancestors. It would somewhat fit in with how she acts.
I just love these random pieces of german. Oh and the story's great aswell.