//------------------------------//
// XXIV. The Debris Field 
// Story: Chrysalis Visits The Hague 
// by Dan The Man 
//------------------------------//


XXIV.
The Debris Field






ICC Permanent Premises
Courtroom 1
23. November, 2015
8:56 am MET

“By all means... today should be another easy victory,” the defence counsel Estermann mumbled.

“Should be?” the changeling queen Chrysalis asked.

“Should be.”

“But you’re not sure.”

Curious, Estermann flicked through the thick bundle of pages that lay on the defence attorney’s stand, one last time - just like the other ‘last’ times before. “I have the feeling that we’ll be dealing today with what we experts refer to as ‘evidential fluff’. Though… again, I could be wrong...”

Again, his eyes got caught on the black-white copy of a heraldic book cover’s image, a piece of illuminatory art that looked as though it was stitched into a tapestry.

Timbucktu. The City That Fell From The Sky.

A panorama of a town floating inexplicably on a pearly-white cloud bank, crumbling apart like mud pie. Imposing towers and impressive temples, colossal arches and curling aqueducts, all slipped off their dense, puffy foundations and rained down onto the earth below in a lethal hail of fire, ash, bricks and marble slabs.
Meanwhile, the black fumes of destruction were whirled into the heavens, where they mingled with the atmosphere to produce one grey, mournful soup that blotted out a setting sun.

No agonising - or, more aptly, iconic - detail had been left out. Here, one could see a pegasus guard hurtling towards the ground with both his wings broken. There, one could see a pony babe looking out of the window of a house that was in the process of caving into nothingness. In the background, a broken noblepony, adorned with ripped silk shawls and dishevelled strings of precious jewelry, was fleeing the carnage into the heavens, exiting stage right.

And above, there circled an endless swarm of ugly, nasty changelings, cackling and licking their lips in scornful amusement at all of it.

Below the scene, in absolutely unintelligible writing, rested the stitched signature of one certain “Star-Svvirle th. Bierded - academicvs regni”.
At least, so the translation went.

He lifted the image from his desk and brought it under his client’s muzzle, who was sitting just a row behind him in the defence’s corner. “Does that name ring any bells, Your Highness?”

She skeptically inspected the copy, scanning over the picture before focusing on the name.
“Starswirl? I suppose so...”

“What can you tell me about Starswirl?”

She whirled some strands of hair out of her face with a holey hoof as she thought. Then she shrugged.
“Not much. A pony. Much beloved once, apparently. But dead now.”

Even Estermann could have said more about Starswirl than that. And he had just put minimal efforts into researching this historic unicorn figure. His list of accolades was long and winding. Author, essayist, statesman, scientist, magician, philosopher. A true polymath. The Goethe of Equestria. An equine renaissance man, born before the renaissance was even a glint in Man’s own eye.

And he was the prosecution’s entire case.

It had struck Estermann as very odd. Was this little book, aptly entitled “The Rise And Fall of the Pegasus Dominion of Timbucktu”, really the only piece of evidence they were going to submit to the Timbucktu charges against Chrysalis?

Sure, this book made reference to Chrysalis at least in a dozen different chapters, but it still was just a solitary source. And that was just the thing that was least wrong with Starswirl’s account of that fateful siege, but… more about that later.

They had to be bluffing.
Or not.

He couldn’t help but stare around the gradually, yet lazily shaping assembly.
It was funny. The scene that Estermann had before him, with people drowsily stumbling past rows of empty chairs to find their own was almost deceptively slow.
This trial was said to be the most, hectic, rampant and wildly popular affair the otherwise timid and straight-laced ICC ever had the honour to host, simply going by the sheer number of interested spectators and reporters. Outside the main court buildings, people were flocking to the trial like it was a Broadway musical - or trying to, anyway.
The people that were allowed in the actual courtroom during the hearings were carefully handpicked. Prosecutors, attorneys, clerks and security personnel all. No one who served no purpose to the trial could cross the threshold. For those individuals, there still was the gallery, which was - in theory - public. But since it only had about fifty chairs, and the trial being the thing it was, a very long waiting list had soon generated. And this list had been over-proportionally bought out by members of the Equestrian elite, just like the princess Twilight Sparkle, and Equestrian brass, like her haphazard brother. A few lucky journalists, and even some intrigued local politicians filled out the rest.

As he wondered how this trial was in any way important enough for those politicians to take time out of their busy schedules for, he felt the changeling queen leaning in from behind. Her snout was hovering above his shoulder and right next to his earlobe. He heard her nose whistle as she drew in a long, deep breath through her nostrils.

“Your Highness...” he whispered. “What do you think you’re doing? We’re in the courtroom, for Christ’s sake.”

“What a bright little worm you are,” she cooed. Then she inhaled once more.

The sound of her taking in his scent made him shiver inexplicably. There was something instinctively unsettling about it… or was it just something exciting?
“It’s Fahrenheit, in case you were wondering.” he muttered stiffly.

“Hm?” she started up and crept closer to his ear. “Yes yes, worm. You smell like a basket of fresh tulips.”

He nodded, perhaps a little helplessly, and tried focusing the Timbucktu journal lying in front of him.

“Now tell me… who have you been seeing?”

“...What?”
He couldn’t help but turn his head a little. “Nobody.”

“Oh, you liar.”

“I’ve not been seeing anyone, your Highness. As you might have noticed, I have been busy planning your defence!”

She sighed as she smiled.
“Then who is it that I smell on you?”

“Do you usually sniff other people in public?”
Was that another quirk of changelings that he had been - thankfully - safe from until now? “Might I remind you that still have a live camera pointing at us-”

“Ah ah.” she chided cheekily. “Spill the beans. Who was it?”

What was she on about? He didn’t meet anyone he hadn’t already met in the past few days, so what smell could possibly be on him to make her think that…

Heartstrings.
That little changeling informant, surely.

“Are we talking about L…” he harrumphed quietly, “Well, you know…”

“Hm?”

“Your daughter?”

He could virtually feel her already wide grin widening even more.
“Found me,” she muttered half-silently, “And about time, too.”

He wanted to peer up and ask with whom she was speaking, but something about the way she uttered these words sent his thoughts stumbling. For some strange reason, they touched him a bit. More so, they sent little joyous cartwheels rolling through his subconscious.

“Tell me… how is she?” Chrysalis asked.

“...Safe.” he answered curtly.

“And you’re making sure of that.”

“Of course I am.”

“Good boy. You know your duty.”
Her voice was thick with commanding satisfaction.

“I… I’d still like to know how she even managed to get into the country!”

“We changelings have our ways, worm. I suggest that you quit underestimating us so much,” she explained cryptically. “Now then… pray tell, where is my beautiful pupa at?”

Resolutely, he huffed.
“Far, far away. Another thing I‘ve made sure of.”
He sharply snapped the book closed and whirled around on his chair. It was time for a definite change of topic.
“Your Highness, where are your beautiful glasses at?”

Surprised, she shrunk back.
“Why are we back to those things now?”

“Because you’ve got an image to keep up, remember?” he sternly reminded her. “Where did you put the glasses I gave you two days ago?”

She just shrugged.
“I don’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Did you lose them or what?”

“Who cares about the darn glasses?” she hissed back.

“Do I need to explain it to you all over again?”

“Don’t get fresh with me, worm.”

Gritting a fist in unbridled annoyance, Estermann rose out of his chair and, scooting past the queen’s leering head, moved to his aide-de-camp Garibaldi, who, just as during the last hearing, sat stowed away on the far end of the defence’s desk, and was busy tippexing something on his files.

“Garibaldi!”

He looked up, startled.

“We have a problem. Her Royal Highness has lost her glasses.”

Garibaldi, confused, adjusted his own black framed ones with two fingers.
“So?”

“We need another pair.”

“What? Again?”
He gulped. “Mister Estermann, this is the last pair I have!”

“What? Come on, I’ll buy you another one. Don’t tell me these cost you more than fifteen euros.”

“Well… no… but the thing is, Mister Estermann, I can barely see anything without them.”

“Oh, suck it up, We’ll be out of here in less than an hour anyway.” Estermann hissed, “Just let me take care of the reading. Give me your files. About time someone did something useful around here!”

Garibaldi gave him a long, ugly glare.
Then he wordlessly took his reading frames off his pudgy nose and tossed them at Estermann, who greedily caught them.

Chrysalis, who still had her head hovering between the two jurists’ shoulders, sneered delightedly.
“I will miss you humans.”

Estermann would have shaken his head at her pre-emptive well-wishes, but he was too busy for that.
“We’re not out of the woods yet. Now, please close your eyes for me.”

Thankfully, these glasses had a much bendier frame than the last ones. Even though they were just a little too small to cover Chrysalis’ own massive eyeballs, they wrapped around her enormous head rather nicely.

Feeling the frame push up against her temple, Chrysalis asked with a giddy tone,
“What shall I say today? I am looking forward to formally introducing myself to that pony judge for once…”

“Today?” Estermann humourlessly instructed her, “You will say nothing. You will sit back and look very very pretty.”

Here, the regent was dumbfounded.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That means: no snide remarks, no heckling, and no mood swings in public anymore, please.”

“What about two days ago?”

“Two days ago was two days ago. The initial appearance hearing was your chance to shine. For the rest of this pre-trial phase, the defence will hold the floor. That means I will do the talking, and I alone.”

She smirked, “And what if the judges want to hear it from me?”

“That would mean that you have been obliged to give a sworn testimony.” He frowned and solemnly crossed his palms. “And by all things holy, we want to avoid that happening! At all costs!”

She sighed, impatient.
“Then why am I even here?”

“Because this is your trial.”

She huffed.
“To be honest, I imagined this would be more fun, worm.”

“I’m sorry that we couldn’t make your trial more entertaining for you, your Highness.” he just muttered and turned away.

A court usher entered from a side door and three familiar gavel strikes echoed through the room. Immediately, everyone hustled towards their seats and made ready for the proceedings to kick off.

“All rise. Vous éleves.” an usher once again ordered.

This time, as he got up, Estermann made sure to not leave his client out of his eyes. She, rather expectantly, remained on her haunches.

“Your Highness! Your heard her! On your feet!”

The changeling gave him an unimpressed glance, groaned, and slowly got up. Her chains were so loud that their jingle-jangle quickly drew in the assembly’s attention.
Amidst the queen’s noises, they hardly even noticed the three judges stepping in - Two dour humans following an earth pony virtually primed for battle, her hooves clacking on the parquet like a Viennese Lipizzaner to a waltz.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Judge Suruma welcomed the room as she reached her table and adjusted her computer screen, “Please sit down.”

Everyone seated themselves. The queen plopped down with a huff.

“Thank you. Court officer, the case, if you please.”

The officer cleared her throat officiously.
“The Prosecutor versus Her Royal Highness, Chrysalis, case number: ICC zero-one stroke fifteen, zero-one stroke fifteen. C.o.H. five.”

“Same as last time...” Chrysalis quietly sang.

“Shush already.” Estermann sang back.

Suruma plopped her own glasses on her nose and looked over to the changeling queen.
“Alright, I see the composition is the same from the day before yesterday, so further introductions prove unnecessary. Good.”
She nodded toward the queen herself. ”Your Highness. I am also happy to see that the issue with your cumbersome restraints has been resolved adequately.”

Chrysalis narrowed her eyes. After a second of silent looks between the judge and her attorney, she nodded.
“Oh yes. Free as a bird now.”

“Well, let's not go that far.”
The haggard lady raised her arm and looked at the watch she had strapped under her robe. “Now for the first point of order: The chamber has authorised the taking of photographs and handheld video for exactly one minute and a half.”
She turned at the bailiff. “Court officer, please admit the photographers.”

Estermann inhaled sharply. He had anticipated this impromptu photo-op with a furrowed brow. Like so many things, it had been planned for a much earlier point, but was pushed back because of obvious security concerns. Now, it was long overdue.
Leaning back, he nudged Chrysalis. “Here comes the press. They will want to take a few pictures of you.”

The queen watched a small group of almost a dozen humans and ponies awkwardly crowding into the room. These lucky few were obviously just the filtered essence of a much larger and much more teeming horde of reporters that were forced to bide their time outside the courthouse, each hoping to get a shot of the dread changeling monarch and the legal tumult that orbited her.

“Oh, this will be fun.” She cooed,

“It won’t take long at all.”

“Easy peasy, worm. Leave them to me."

Estermann braced for further embarrassment. He could virtually smell that now, something was going to happen that he may regret. Something he may have to iron out with the press later on.

But instead, he witnessed Chrysalis rising up, planting two forehooves on the podium and giving the approaching journalists, honest to God, the most magnificent, majestic and mesmerising pose she could have given.

Estermann was awe-struck. He had never come so close to seeing the enormous creature display this much of her fully erect height. He found himself stuck in his seat, cowering in the shadow of her massive propped-up form, eclipsed entirely from the room’s head lamps and mounted cameras as she towered above his own stringy self. Like an epic oil canvas of a proud destrier after a battle won, she mounted up before the assembly with sinewy legs and gazed down at them with such a compelling elegance and inherent supremacy that, just for a moment, made everyone forget her trimmed hair, the chains on her limbs, the ill-fitting glasses on her muzzle and the magic-dampening battery by her horn.
Estermann was convinced of this.

Slowly, it was as though he began to understand why Lyra had reacted to her the way she did the other day. Something about the queen, the way she posed and how she carried herself as she posed, roused a strong, innate sense of reverence inside the lawyer. Had the two been in any other setting, he may indeed have felt compelled to drop onto his knees then and there and venerate her girth and barrel - which, while still covered by that tightly strapped stab vest, betrayed the awesome physical might slumbering inside her - like some superstitious Polynesian tribesman.

The journalists, at least in part, seemed inclined to agree. Without comment - no, not even from the three or four ponies in their ranks - they crowded tightly around the changeling monarch and bathed her in a sea of flashlights, capturing her from every glorious perspective - left, right, and below, and even further below.
The fact that, all the while, an infamous ferocious predator was biding her time only a few inches over their heads did not even seem to cross their minds.

The one-and-a-half minutes were over in an instant.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, your time is over. Please follow the court officer to the exits. And your Highness, you… may return to your seat now.”

Chrysalis cracked a professional-after-a-day’s-job-well-done smile as she sat back down on her haunches, freeing Estermann from the grasp of her shadow.
Much to his own confusion, the lawyer actually needed a few moments to shake the image of her from his eyes and collect his thoughts.

Justice Suruma sorted some pages laying before her with a rather less impressed mien.
“Now then. The purpose of today’s status conference shall be the disclosure of certain pieces of evidence and witness accounts, as well as the review of a number of them. Has the Counsel for the Prosecution understood everything?”

Looking for an answer, Suruma directed her attention to the prosecution’s corner, where a certain tiny South African woman, flanked by two purple-clad pony associates was swiping a handkerchief around her young, well-groomed face.
“That is correct, your Honour.” she confirmed with a rheumy voice.

Estermann’s immediate thought at the first sight of her sickly countenance was, ‘Is she weakening?’
Where had the prosecutor’s heartfelt war face crept off to? What had happened to the woman that had announced oh-so often to battle the changeling queen tooth and nail?
At least on the outside, the prosecutor of the court seemed a little mellowed out.
Estermann just smirked in purest schadenfreude.

“Firstly,” Suruma began her query, “Do you intend to call live witnesses during the trial? And if yes, how many? You have the floor.”

Pierman sorted her files and weakly harrumphed.
“Your Honour, the prosecution hopes to call at least four live witnesses to the stand.”

Estermann sceptically peeled his eyes and ears. That number of witnesses seemed to small for his tastes. Others would have had hundreds.

“Is that the final number?” Suruma made sure in quite a similar vein.

“No no, but it is the number of witness accounts we can guarantee to disclose in the foreseeable future.” she sniffed. “As I have previously mentioned in writing, Your Honour, the on-scene investigation in Equestria has proved very complicated so far.”

‘Indeed’, Estermann again mused. Surely, squeezing any useful witnesses out of modern Equestria was ‘complicated’ in the same way as trying to squeeze crab juice out of a fossilised shellfish.
It might have been a little easier a few millenia ago, but nowadays? Please.

But Pierman tactfully let that pickle go unmentioned.
“Coordinating with officials of the Council of Harmony and the Equestrian state have also proved to be an... inefficient affair in some ways.”

Suruma nodded. “Indeed. The chamber is… quite well aware of the many complicating factors of this investigation. It is, after all, in many respects a maiden voyage for your office’s investigation division. But I still hope that your investigation efforts are not yet... approaching their conclusion.”

What a nice way to ask if they had already given up.

“Of course not.” she quickly reassured, “No, they are well underway, and we are delighted to report that the Equestrian judicial organs have yet again proven themselves avid to cooperate with us and support us.”
She sniffed tellingly. “That said, we still have to determine whether there are any dangers to the witnesses and their next of kin in the event of an unredacted disclosure, in spite the Equestrian royal authorities’ assurances of the safety of everyone involved.”

Oh, cheeky. What a subtle way to heap the blame back onto the changelings.

“That is good to hear.” The judge uttered, twisting her pen. “Under the circumstances, I would like to stress once more that the date of the confirmation of charges hearing is not yet set in stone. Should the parties wish for more time to finalise their cases, the confirmation can be delayed by several additional days upon request.”

Estermann felt like cursing. The defence counsel wanted the damn pre-trial to be over as quickly as possible. The shorter the deadline, the less opportunity there would be for the prosecution to construct their case, and the more straightforward the work of the defence should prove.

“My learned friend? I yield the floor to you. Do you intend to bring live witnesses?”

He gulped. What he would have to say now would either come across as unsettlingly vague or laughably hollow. But here he was.
“Madam President,” he began, “At this stage, the defence of Her Royal Highness is not in a position to name any number of witness statements or live witness accounts. Like the prosecution, we consider ourselves very early into our investigation.”

He could practically hear the merry cackling from behind Fori’s lips.

He knew that now was the time to show some fangs. He looked up. “By and large, though, the efforts of the defence will build upon the efforts of the prosecution. And, making full use of our right to the last word, we intend to rebut the Prosecutor’s presumed evidence, and we also intend to rebut any live witnesses. The confirmation process shan’t go uncontested, regardless of how the situation chooses to develop.”

Somewhat displeased, Suruma sighed. “With all due respect to the intricacies of both parties’ situations, this chamber does not intend to carry on the pre-trial phase indefinitely. While we have decided on granting certain leeway in terms of the judicial calendar to accommodate for the presently unclear situation inside Equestria, we absolutely insist that both parties respect the deadlines as set by Rule 121 passage 3, to 16 passage 6 of the Rules of Procedure and Evidence, and have their evidence submitted in a timely manner. I hope I have made myself clear.”

Both Estermann and Pierman shrunk back, admittedly a bit intimidated.

“Good. Coming to the procedure for the disclosure of evidence for the duration of the Pre-trial: We have decided to incorporate certain methodology in use by the Council of Harmony.”

Estermann automatically rolled his eyes.

“That means that the presentation shall proceed in a chronologically structured manner. The parties will examine all the pieces of evidence in relation to the incident. That means that, today we will begin with the earliest incident, which would be…”
She twirled through her notes.

“Uh...” Pierman coughed, “the siege and razing of the Flying City State of Timbucktu, your Honour.”

“Uh, correct. Provided that all pieces of evidence have been heard by the end of today’s session, move on to the subsequent incident in the next session, and so on. Most tellingly, though, all parties shall be given ample opportunity to contest the disclosure of evidence and formulate an appropriate rebuttal throughout. Is this understood so far?”

Pierman nodded and so did his counterpart.

“I suggest that the prosecution begins its statement on the facts of the case with the basic information - time, location, and so on.” She waved her hand about with a pre-occupied manner, her eyes already back on the monitor in front of her.

Pierman authoritatively propped herself up in her seat, carefully adjusting her shoulders and pushing out her spine. “Thank you, your Honour. The date of the attacks on Timbucktu in question are assumed to have taken place between the 14th and the 15th day of the 1st Autumn Moon of the 5th Equestrian year after Discord. In terms of the Gregorian calendar, that would be the rough equivalent of mid-to-late October of 1314. Since it was a so-called ‘flying’ city - a pegasus settlement erected on the surface of a magically reinforced cloud - it had no permanent location and would have been in constant movement downwind."

And as Estermann realised that he now lives in a world where clouds were considered an acceptable architectural foundation, he felt glad that he chose not to study architecture in the first place.
He sighed, he could not quite wrap his head around it all. Had a prosecutor told him of sky cities built on clouds just a year earlier, he would have demanded an intervention, not felt the frantic need to take notes.

"But these archeological findings have indicated its position prior to destruction to be eight kilometres outside - and fifteen hundred metres above - the modern locality of Three Linden – which did not yet exist at this time - in the present-day Province of Smokey Mountains.”
Suddenly, Pierman moved to touch her own head with a free hand. She, still stringently reading off her little piece of paper, did not seem to notice herself.
“To support this information, I wish to submit exhibit ‘1A’: Archeological ascertainments concerning approximately five tonnes of marble and masonry debris as well as dozens of spear tips, blades, helmets, belt buckles, broaches, cutlery, statuettes and other heavily oxidised metallic everyday objects, found scattered around a fifteen hectare area and recovered by Canterlotian University equinological department workers in 999 a.d. - in an area now academically referred to as the ‘Timbucktuan Debris Field’.

The three judges and Estermann delved into their files until they came across grimy satellite images of a vast tundric plain, interrupted by close-ups of laid-out, remotely brick-sized stone blocks and rusty shards of metal, of which one could only guess their original forms.

“The Kingdom of Timbucktu was a vassal city state to the Empire of Pegasopolis, and headed by an absolute hereditary monarch - at the time of the attack, that position was held by His Majesty Orion II. It laid claim to the sovereignty of the air and the land beneath in a radius of forty kilometres. It possessed a domestic armed force of up to ten thousand combatants, primarily light air-based pole and missile troops.”

Chrysalis furrowed her brow and let out a hiss.
“Sounds so grandiose. It was a puny tribe with an even punier army and the puniest of all chieftains.” she quietly commented.

“Our investigation allowed a reconstruction of the events as follows:”
Her eyes darkened as a dark foreboding feeling seemed to spread out behind them. “It was in the early morning hours of the 82nd, when scouts in the employ of the Kingdom of Timbucktu established visual contact with a group of approximately sixteen thousand changelings, travelling in three airborne columns, advancing on the flying city with five thousand from northeasterly, five thousand from northerly and six thousand northwesterly direction.”
She neatly pointed out the three directions from her viewpoint. Almost like she was there herself. “This advance was coordinated, as communication between the columns was upheld via a ‘steady trickle of messengers’, according to eyewitness reports.”
She brushed her runny nose.
“The city garrison was alerted around late forenoon, but no mobilisation was undertaken until noontime, due to a...” Pierman shrugged, “...general sense of disbelief that a Changeling advance was actually underway. For these and prior statements, I herewith submit exhibit ‘1B’, the General Mobilisation Order of the Municipal Guard, signed by Chief Strategos Virgo, found in a Municipal Guard cuirass inside the aforementioned Debris Field in 999.”

Clicking sounds echoed through the chamber as some clerk filed his fax copy of the terribly frayed, barely legible piece of parchment.

“For the ensuing elaborations, I want to submit exhibit ‘1C’, The Rise And Fall Of The Floating City of Timbucktu, 11th edition, pages 37 to 209. A comprehensive report on the events by Starswirl the Bearded, circa 6 a.d.” she declared and tapped on a thick bundle to her right.

Knowingly, Estermann glanced back down at photo of the tapestry-like illumination on his own desk.
Here came the prosecutor’s crown jewel.

“It was also around noontime that the changeling forces reached the battlements of Timbucktu. The three units began a regrouping and merging action that lasted about twenty minutes. Initial hostilities broke out when individual groups of Changeling combatants began breaking away from the stationary main troop body...”
Pierman's hand tracked the absconded changeling aggressors as they appeared to swirl above her own head, “and, without conducting any attempts to establish communication with either the state government or the city garrison, initiated a series of aerial assaults on the city’s defensive structures...” Her hand sharply swung down on her table in a chopping pose, “...in what was described as a ‘thoroughly wild and pellmell gait’, and were at first easily repelled.”

Estermann smirked. This wasn’t exactly sounding very indicative of tactical cohesion.

But Pierman's hand already slid on, shoving its way across her own desk.
“But within minutes, a second attack wave was organised that consisted upwards of ten thousand Changeling combatants. It proceeded to overwhelm various defence structures with utmost brutality, isolating defending garrison units in their towers and barracks, and decimating them indiscriminately and giving them - again, I quote - the chance for ‘not a hoof to raise or knee to buckle’. This included disregarding Timbucktuan soldiers voicing their wishes to ‘yield’, and picking off soldiers that had cast down their weapons and were in the process of routing by air, ganging up on them and beating them to death.”

He went right back to wincing.

“There were reportedly no members of the city garrison among the survivors. The fighting and slaughter then spilled into the civilian quarters of the city. Pegasus civilians were not only barred from escaping to safety by the attackers, but were actively assaulted in the streets and pursued into houses and alleys, where they would then be...”
She needed a moment to catch her thoughts, “...beaten, maimed, restrained with a special kind of adhesive and anaesthetising secrete - described by survivors as ‘the changeling’s mucilaginous brew’, drained of their ‘love’ and subsequently killed. For a closer physical elaboration on this process, I wish to submit exhibit ‘1D’, a detailed account on the biological examination of the changeling physique, conducted by the Royal Canterlot College of Surgeons on Her Royal Highness Chrysalis.”

Chrysalis frowned visibly, before gritting her teeth at her lawyer.
“I did wonder what they were doing to me in Canterlot’s dungeons while I was knocked out.”

Here, Magistrate Fori used the pause to lean over to Justice Suruma and whispered a brief something into her ear.

Estermann frowned. That could never be a good sign.

Justice Suruma nodded slightly and raised a silencing finger.
“One moment, my learned friend...”
Pierman herself, bit a lip as she watched Suruma make a small note on her paper.
“Alright. Please continue.”

“Thank you, your Honour. App… approximately half an hour into the hostilities, parts of the municipal guard managed to reform and effectuate a counter-attack, thereby pushing the changelings’ assault back towards the outskirts of the cloud plateau, in return saving the lives of numerous injured and seized civilians, many of whom would later live to give extensive testimonies of their treatment.”
She turned to the last page. “For reasons unknown, this counter-attack was aborted very soon afterward. It is generally believed to have been the result of Changelings or Changeling sympathisers infiltrating the Guard’s command structure and spreading false orders for a general retreat and to ‘run like hares cut loose from their leashes, for the Kings have fallen and all is lost’, but I digress.”

The defence counsel gave a humourless chuckle.

“Can you believe it?” Chrysalis herself giggled.

Estermann would have liked to shake his head, but logically, wouldn’t this have been the first charge they would have brought up against the changeling anyway?

“This ruse which caused the municipal guard’s defensive line to dissipate, and allowed the Changeling forces to penetrate the city centre and royal palace compound.”
Pierman unconsciously put a commanding hand before her, pointing tyrannically at the round before her row desks.
“Once breaching the city centre, the Changeling forces proceeded to storm and occupy four medical practitioner’s offices - places where the sick and wounded would logically be collected - the Academy of Mages and Healers - a building dedicated to both education and the treatment of the sick and wounded - the Public School for Moral Tutelage - another site dedicated to education - the Musician’s College - dedicated to education and art - the offices of the Public Welfare Curiate - a public institution dedicated to a charitable purpose towards Timbucktuan citizens - and a permanent art exhibition located in the Great Forum - which in itself was an important historic monument and was, at least in part, dedicated to the display of art.”
She gave the changeling queen across from her a shake of the head, and paused to grasp a glass of water and moisten her lips for the rest of her lengthy tirade.
“The commission of atrocities amongst civilians and surrendered Guard members persisted throughout this seizure action. All members of the royal family, including the His Majesty Orion II, his wife Cassiopeia, his three sons Virgo, Circinus and Aquarius, the oldest of whom served as the Commander-in-chief to the Timbucktuan state military, were declared missing in action, and later pronounced dead. All remaining members of the senior state military leadership were killed in action. All members of the civilian administration, including the First Minister Pyxis, the Lord Treasurer Sagitta, the Chief Justice Aries, the Speaker of the Royal Council Orion, and all remaining Council members Norma, Taurus and Delphinus were later also found to have been killed during the battle.”

Disgusted mumbles and sharp whispers began to emanate from somewhere. Chrysalis just turned away slightly.

“The total civilian death toll for the duration of the sack is an estimated nineteen thousand and five-hundred Pegasi and roughly one thousand Gryphons, and the military death toll to be nine thousand and five hundred.”
She held up a folder and unpacked a pencil-thick bundle of photos of wildly strewn bones sticking out of the earth.
“I herewith submit exhibit ‘1E’: An analysis of the skeletal remains of four hundred sixty-six, mostly civilian pegasi excavated in the Debris Field in 999.“
Instinctively, she performed a vivid stabbing motion, “Some of them indicate death by sharp force - typically sharpened metal like swords and spears...”
She curled her hand into a fist, “...blunt force - typically a result from regular physical melee trauma...”
Her hand stroked her robed sleeves and chest, “...thermal decomposition - in laymen’s terms, burning, typically owing to either the use of rudimentary ignited weaponry like torches, or magically emitted concentrated thermal energy - again, in layman’s terms, fire-based magic, something which is innate to the changelings’ very physiology, for which I refer back to exhibit '1D...”

Fire magic. Estermann automatically harkened back to the burned gendarme at Schiphol Airport...

Next, Pierman let her arm hang limp, crooked at a visibly uncomfortable angle, “...As well as... fatally emaciated skeletal systems, showing symptoms of brittleness not unlike those of osteogenesis imperfecta - probably the result of the forceful magical withdrawal of large quantities of certain energies from the victims’ bodies, thus causing irreversible and often lethal damage to their physical condition.”
She demonstratively laid a flat hand on her bun on the back of her head.
“It should be noted that more than half of the exhumed bodies not only showed injuries on the back of their heads, which implied that they were attacked and fatally wounded while averted from the attacker...”
Another hand rubbed a hand across her belly and abdomen, “...but also the ribs and stomach regions. This strongly suggests that many of the victims were laid on their backs before they were dealt the lethal injuries - immobilised and most probably defenceless throughout their ordeal.”
In the end, her hand silently travelled back to her mouth, which it rubbed in a perturbed manner. “What we look at here are at the very least hundreds of murders and wilful killings of members of the Timbucktuan citizenry, most certainly in the blatant attempt of culling the Timbucktuan ethnicity as a whole.”

His head hurt.

Pierman’s face became even more wistful.
“It was late afternoon by the time Changelings troops had assumed control of the entirety of the city and all pockets of Timbucktuan resistance had been expunged. Now came a ten-hour period of the victorious Changelings roaming the defenceless settlement and looting private homes and public buildings - among them all of the previously mentioned protected sites.”
Pierman proceeded to peer around. “It is approximated that close to one hundred thousand metric tonnes of gold, silver, copper, bronze, iron, wood, silk, linen, and wool were evacuated from various buildings by Changeling forces in the aftermath of the raids, causing an estimated damage to the city and citizens of Timbucktu to the tune of... seven hundred and ninety three million U.S. Dollars, converted and adjusted for inflation.”

Chrysalis, rather bored, slid around on her pillow and made her chains ring.

“All civilian survivors that were unable to leave the city by this point were rounded up and quite literally ‘glued to each other’ by their hooves, tails and wings to keep them from escaping, forming long lines of ponies that were firmly attached to each other.
They were then driven off the cloud plateau in groups as long as eighty creatures, and no provisions were made for those who were exhausted, injured or dying. Since the prisoners were still mostly dependent on the power of their own wings to stay afloat, many groups ended up being dragged down by their own weight and pummeling fifteen hundred metres to their deaths. I again wish to refer to exhibit ‘1C’. All those that survived were driven on by Changeling combatants, deported to unknown whereabouts and have been considered missing ever since.”

She slammed a folder shut.

Estermann sighed in the revelation that her stream of words had finally found an end.

But then she continued,
“In the later stages of the pillage, multiple coordinated groups of Changelings spread out around the town and began laying dozens of fires in what was described as a very ‘canny’ manner. When the city had been deemed by the forces to be cleared of any lootable goods and healthy prisoners, an evacuation and ensuing retreat were conducted, during which all remaining Changeling combatants retreated from the area of the cloud plateau, broke up into smaller regiment-sized groups and headed into the northerly direction for the purpose of surveilling and escorting the prisoner and loot convoys, presumably to the various home bases of the Changeling forces dotted around the eastern Crystal Mountain range.”

Subtly, Estermann peered over to his client for any sort of confirmation.
But the changeling’s face remained locked in a cryptic pout.

“Now, at this point in time, up to four thousand civilians were still present in the city, most of whom were either heavily injured, disoriented or remaining in hiding. Timbucktu had been left behind in its plundered state with several major fires consuming the tightly packed city quarters from various sides and directions, many of which soon grew into sizable and destructive infernos. After several more hours of unhindered raging, the flames and smoke effectuated a considerable increase in temperature in the surrounding air and atmosphere. Under these conditions, the cumulus cloud layer that served as Timbucktu’s foundation began to evaporate, destabilising the city’s magically maintained structural integrity.”
She spread her arms out like an owl taking flight. ”When the cloud layer inevitably began rupturing into loose fragments and ‘raining off’, the buildings erected on their top began to come apart and break away, falling through the widening rifts and taking most surviving civilians with them. All in all, the shift in temperature managed to disperse the Timbucktu cloud plateau in its entirety, resulting in the complete destruction of all twelve thousand structures in the city over a period of thirty-eight hours."

"Very few civilians managed to escape this catastrophe, and the casualties are assumed somewhere in the two thousand range. The damages are estimated to be around two hundred and twenty million US dollars.”
She made a small note on a page she randomly pulled up. “I consequently submit exhibit ‘1F’ - a concise ‘caelo-physical assessment’ by the ‘Air-To-Aerosol’ Construction Society of the City of Cloudsdale - which proves that this was not only an entirely foreseeable consequence of the Changeling arson squadrons’ acts, but a deliberate and purposeful act; The Changeling forces had caused a calculated structural destabilisation with the intent to demolish the city state of Timbucktu in its entirety, as well as to eliminate all of its remaining four thousand citizens. ”

She paused importantly. Looking around the room to ensure its complete and utter attention to her, she shuffled her papers and proceeded with the listing of the charges with a heavy, hoarse and bitter sigh.
“Within these roughly twenty hours, the members of the Changeling force has become guilty of the crime of genocide, by killing members of the Timbucktuan nation with the intent to destroy the same in its entirety, according to Article 6 letter ‘a’ of the Rome Statute.
They had become guilty of the crime against sapiency of murder, as part of a knowing, systematic attack directed against the Timbucktuan civilian population, pursuant to Article 7 passage 1 letter ‘a’.
They had become guilty of deporting parts of the Timbucktuan population, pursuant to Article 7 passage ‘1’ letter ‘d’.
They had become guilty of murdering and mutilating civilians not involved in combat and Municipal Guard members that had laid down their arms or were placed hors de combat by injury, pursuant to Article 8 passage 2 letter ‘c’ numeral ‘i’.
They had become guilty of intentionally directing attacks against the Timbucktuan civilian population as such, pursuant to Article 8 passage 2 letter ‘e’ numeral ‘i’.
They had become guilty of intentionally directing attacks against buildings dedicated to education, art, science and charitable purposes, as well as a historic monument, a hospital and places where the sick and wounded were collected, all of which served no military purposes, pursuant to Article 8 passage 2 letter ‘e’ numeral ‘iv’.
They had become guilty of pillaging the city of Timbucktu, pursuant to Article 8 passage 2 letter ‘e’ numeral ‘v’.
They had become guilty of ordering the displacement of the Timbucktuan civilian population for reasons related to the conflict at hand, none of which were demanded by military reasons or concerns of security for the civilians, pursuant to Article 8 passage 2 letter ‘e’ numeral ‘viii’.
And they had become guilty of declaring that no quarter were to be given, pursuant to Article 8 passage 2 letter ‘e’ numeral ‘x’.”

And now?
Now came Pierman’s coup-de-gras. With vengeful eyes, she propped herself up and locked the suspect in a unabashedly hateful gaze.

“The suspect, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings, has implicated herself in every one of these counts. The suspect served as the commander-in-chief to the sixteen thousand-strong Changeling force, and extensively attended the siege, battle and aftermath in person, arriving with the approaching force on the noon of the 14th and evacuating as part of the same on the morning of the 15th. The following reconstruction is based on fifteen, corroborating, individual eyewitness reports - all faithfully compiled in exhibit ‘1C’ - placing the suspect at the scene:”
She smacked down her folder, as though she already knew it all by heart. “The suspect travelled initially with the northeasterly column, of which she had assumed direct command, and took over supreme command of the entire force during the regrouping action that preceded the assault on the city. She directly organised, ordered and oversaw the second attack wave that successfully breached the city limits, and even chose to directly participate in the combat alongside the Changeling troops for the duration of the battle.  As the defending Municipal Guard units were overrun and encircled, she flew along the frontline and continued issuing orders to the fighters below, occasionally spurring them on to ‘finish the dregs’, consciously contributing to the ensuing slaughter. She proceeded to accompany the frontmost troops throughout the advance. As Changeling soldiers overcame the defensive perimeter and descended into the civilian quarters, she was yet again directly present and was heard repeatedly shouting,  ‘Feed! Feed to your hearts’ content! Leave them nowt but bones and dust’ as Timbucktuan civilians were in the process of being killed and abused on the streets and in the houses only several metres away from her position.”

She had to contain herself from screaming those words in the same way that Chrysalis might have.
And yes, as archaic as they sounded, Estermann could absolutely imagine them belonging to the changeling monarch.

“The seizure of the protected buildings located in the city centre can too be traced back to the orders of the suspect, when she instructed several groups of Changeling soldiers to fan out and search every house in the vicinity of the royal palace and government buildings, in a bid to locate surviving members of the Timbucktuan royal family, the royal court and city government. Considering the overwhelming resultant death toll amongst these very same groups, it is very probable that these instructions also included the bid of immediate execution, further substantiated by her earlier declarations of no quarter. The suspect would reach the palace area alongside her troops and proceed set up a general headquarters in the state rooms of the Tumbucktuan royal family, where she would remain for the duration of the hostilities and pass down orders as the conquest of the city concluded and the number of atrocities soared.”
“Even the campaign of the plundering and systematic destruction of the city can be traced back directly to the suspect, since it was firstly announced by her from the steps of the conquered palace throne room with the following words: ‘Now that our time hath arrived, my children, fan out and take what’s thine. Bathe this wretched vulture’s hive in thy green fire’s glow!’“

“I must have been quite the poet,” came Chrysalis’ inevitable, if thankfully discrete, heckle.

“Particularly the series of house burnings that would end up destabilising the cloud plateau and destroying the city in the following days is relevant to the suspect’s chosen words. It was also the suspect who issued the order to retreat from the city. The systematic nature and sheer amount of Timbucktuan civilians and seized goods evacuated suggests that this involved intricate planning and regimentation of pillaging efforts on behalf of the Changeling force’s leadership, naturally including the suspect first and foremost. The suspect would proceed to depart into the northern direction alongside other Changeling troops, in which also at least twenty groups of arrested civilians and five convoys of seized goods were reported to have been brought.”
She cleared her throat. “It is based on this evidence that the prosecution has decided to charge the suspect with the incitement in one count genocide, both counts of crimes against sapiency, and all 9 counts of war crimes. Thank you, your Honour.”

That was it. And what a mouth-full it was. Indeed, what a slap in the face it was.

Suruma leaned back and put away her pen.
“Thank you for your very streamlined and on-the-point elaboration, my friend.”
Taking off her glasses, the judge leaned over to hear colleagues - first Magistrate Fori, who avidly whispered something short and concise, then Colm Mullan, who just replied with a lethargic shrug.
Ultimately, she opened another, much thinner folder and peered over at the defence counsel.
My learned friend, the Counsel for the Prosecution.”

Another shudder ran down his spine.

“Would the defence like to conduct any enquiries? Would they like to contest the admission of any of the evidence?”

Estermann furrowed his brow and wrangled the armrests of his swivel chair. He knew he probably should. But why was he so thoroughly taken by surprise? Now, that the world’s eyes were once again on him?

The gears in his head were wheeling about, grinding, churning through the massive amounts of information Pierman had thrust into the ring, probing, assessing, strategising his ways around them…
But he didn’t manage to grind quite fast enough for his tastes.
He could feel a fatal freeze creeping up to him.
He knew he needed a moment of calm.

“Madam President...” he started with a heavy tone, “I… wish most humbly to request a recess of forty-five minutes so I can confer with Her Royal Highness.”

“Denied!” he immediately heard the purple-robed earth pony hiss down at him with the timing of a striking cobra - as if she felt robbed of a pleasant public shaming.

Even so, Estermann caught himself flinching. It had been a long time since he felt this vulnerable.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted his aide-de-camp Garibaldi giving him a confused glare of his own. ‘Now or never!’ it seemed to scream. He was half-blind and had his files taken from him, so he couldn’t help the situation if he tried.
Queen Chrysalis was giving him a look too, though she was less condemning and more curious.

Estermann knew it was a… deeply inconvenient measure. It seemed like a cowardly thing to do. A cheap ploy to buy time to ready oneself for defeat.
But yet, he considered the alternative - that of him forfeiting the pre-trial phase by babbling against the prosecution incoherently and aimlessly until the judges grew sick of it and cut his pathetic display short by adjourning the hearing. The Equestrians would certainly have a field day. Lexy Fori would have a field day.

But Suruma didn't seem to be quite as bugged by it. Staring long and hard at her watch, she half-nodded at Estermann.
“According to schedule, we must wrap up today’s hearing by twelve o’clock at the latest. We will conduct a thirty-minute recess and will resume at 10:15 sharp. Court officer!”

“All rise! Vous éleves! ” came the usher’s immediate bellow.





“What was that all about?” the Changeling Queen loudly pondered. “Did a certain somepony get cold hooves in there?”

Estermann huffed and closed the double doors tightly behind him.
The breakout room was a slightly oversized office, minimally outfitted with five chairs positioned around a square desk. It was a side room two entranceways adjacent to the main courtroom, and sealed from the world with thick frosted glass walls and a few concrete columns.

He slipped out of his robe and loosened the cravat spun around his neck.
Then he sat down next to Garibaldi, who was already sitting, nervously twiddling his thumbs around as he contemplated Queen Chrysalis, who was chained to the floor by the table’s opposite end. “I need not mention that these are very heavy allegations, your Highness.” Garibaldi stated with a whisper, in a desperate attempt to do something resembling his job.

But Chrysalis just returned a look of inquisitive silence.
“Who are you?” she asked, baring her teeth in a confused manner.

Garibaldi hesitated.

“Shut up.” she followed up and turned to Estermann. “You, worm, say something. What is going on?”

Estermann’s nose flared.
“You tell me. What was that just now?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I mean Timbucktu.” the lawyer grunted.

She moaned and glanced at the neon lamps hanging above her. “Oh, that business...”

“Thirty-two thousand people died.”

She giggled irreverently. “It’s a sack. What do you expect to happen, a pie fight?”

He combed through his ruffled hair. “Is there anything that you can tell me about it that the prosecutor couldn’t?”

She pouted and looked down. “Sounded about right to me.”

Estermann got back up in a huff and buried his hands in his pockets.

“It… did all sound very concise - for pre-trial, I mean.” Garibaldi mumbled and scratched his fingers. “I don’t think there is much we can do other than ask for the standard elaborations, Mister Estermann. Ask the prosecutor to go into as much detail as possible.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” Estermann spat, pacing around. “And if I were Pierman, I wouldn’t like it either. This whole thing stinks to high heaven.”

“Yes...” he agreed with a bemused chuckle, “I did find it curious that she doesn’t intend charging Her Highness for Article 8, passage 2, letter b, roman vii - making improper use of the enemy’s military uniforms. In my mind, that would have been the most straightforward charge to give to… well… a changeling.”

“No. Nonsense!” Estermann spat and waved him off, “The prosecution does not recognise the Changeling Kingdom as an independent nation, remember? Therefore, this conflict isn’t an international conflict, therefore 8/2/b does not apply.” he explained. “Our luck. Das hätte uns gerade noch gefehlt!” he added bitterly.
Turning around, he went to his pile of documents and extracted exhibit ‘1B’ - the ancient mobilisation order, signed by the highest-ranking military commander of the city. “No no, ladies and gentlemen. My issue lies somewhere else. Have you noticed it?”

The others, predictably, said nothing.

“In most of the evidence that Pierman submitted, Her Highness’ name isn’t mentioned once. Not once!”

Chrysalis rolled her eyes.

“Well, it is mentioned in the treatise by… what’s his name… Starswirl the Bearded.” Garibaldi corrected him.

“Yes, indeed.” Estermann agreed. “A curious number of times, in fact. But where else is it mentioned?” He slapped the paper to make a point. “Nowhere! Not in a single document. The only thing that brings Her Highness in connection with the sack of Timbucktu is that one treatise by Starswirl!”

“One hundred million terrified ponies’ nightmares do...”
That was Chrysalis again, smiling the swankiest and proudest of smiles.

“Fuck them.” Estermann declared. “Of course they do! That’s what they’ve been taught in school. I mean, just ask Lyra Heartstr- I mean your… I mean...”
He trailed off as Chrysalis’ glaring eyes compelled him to zip it.

“Excuse me, Mister Estermann...” Garibaldi interjected and politely picked the page out of Estermann’s hands. “I have to disagree. This written order makes mention of her as well!“
He pointed on a certain fragment of the text. ”Here: ’The Changeling Queen flies at the helm. Direct the bowponies unto her.’ That must count for something at least.”

“Changeling queen.” Estermann snorted and reclaimed the paper with a snatch. “They couldn't have been more vague if their life depended on it! ‘Queen’ isn’t a name, it’s a title. A political post. Queens get born every year. This does not implicate Chrysalis!”

“But her title is ‘Queen of all Changelings’ - and if her presumed age is anything to go by-”

They heard the eponymous changeling regent give an annoyed sigh.
“I’m still here, you know.”

“The prosecution has nothing to link her.” Estermann interrupted. “Everything that they have to show for is too vague to prove culpability beyond reasonable doubt. Which is what it’s all about, remember?”

Garibaldi mutely nodded, observing his own folded fingers.

“All that remains is that damn report from Starswirl!”

“Well…”
Garibaldi blew his lips, frustrated.
“What is your problem with it?”

“I trust you’ve read the thing.”

“Only the relevant points the prosecution underlined. Why?”

He held up a schoolmaster’s index finger and excavated the copy of the document in question from his stash. Then he carried it around the table and presented it to Chrysalis herself.
“Your Highness, can you read ancient Unicornian scripture?”

The queen visibly gritted her fangs. “I’ve had… some run-ins with them. I'm embarrassed to say that I do.”

“Then...” He fetched a yellow marker from his pocket, popped off the lid with his teeth, and quickly underlined some parts, “Do me the honour and read this. I’m sure this might interest you too.”

She focused on the page and began reciting in a low, doubtful voice.
‘The bleak changeling scores, swept upon Timbucktu’s lofty shores, and with a thoroughly wild and pellmell gait, hence sealed the state to its dismal fate...’”
She lifted her head and let a grin spread on her face.

“You noticed something?” Estermann asked.

"Please don’t tell me it’s… it’s all...” she began to snigger.

“I’ll turn to the next page, if you please.”
He jumped to another highlighted part.

Chrysalis cleared her throat theatrically, and delved into text with a passionate buzz in her throat.
“‘So they perished, the hardy beasts, as the changelings their limbs and lives did seize,  Hooves were not raised and knees did not to buckle, nor on the changeling’s mercy could they suckle; This it made sure of, the ravaging horde, as it culled the fallen in murderous sport.’”

Estermann nodded, impressed with her voice.
“You would have made a fine bard.”

“I rule to please.” she harrumphed. “Seriously now. Is this thing entirely done in rhyme?”

He spread his arms in revelation.
"From the first page to the last, this stupid thing has been written as a ballad. You can see my issue here.”

Garibaldi shrugged slowly and sighed.
“It is rather odd, of course...”

“Odd?” he asked. “I tell you what’s odd: the prosecution’s been trying its darndest to sell this document as a legitimate scientific report on the incident, with accredited sources and whatnot.”

“Which it is... arguably.” Garibaldi mumbled, and crossing his arms too. “You must remember, this report spends most of the time paraphrasing witness statements from actual survivors of the attack. He lists names, occupations, and positions in the city. It’s excellently sourced… for a medieval document, anyhow.”

“It’s a ballad!” Estermann insisted. “A propagandistic doggerel.”

“The quality of the content’s neither here nor there. The rhyme’s just… a stylistic choice. An embellishment.” Garibaldi struggled to rationalise, “Probably a literary trend of its day.”
He glanced over to the ancient changeling queen. “That is correct, isn’t it?”

“What are you looking at me for?” she sharply rebuked him. “I’ve never felt the need to write something down in rhyme. Do I look like a zebra to you?”

Estermann massaged his face with a huff.
“This so-called report is the linchpin of the Prosecution’s case against our client in the Timbucktu affair. We need to convince the tribunal that it’s not worth the paper it is written on. It must be disregarded! That way, everything else will fall away.”

Garibaldi slowly rose up.
“We should not disregard the other evidence on the assault itself, though.”

Estermann cut him short with a derisive waving hand.
“Leave that to whoever may be put in the dock after us. We’re not here to prove that the attack didn’t happen - we’re here to prove that Her Royal Highness had nothing to do with it!”

“Easier said than done...” Garibaldi shrugged unsurely, and promptly earned another ill-willed sneer from their client.

“What the hay are you even doing here?” she caustically inquired from the Italian, “Does this book really impress you so much?”

“No… of course not.” Garibaldi gulped, “I’m merely playing the devil’s advocate here. What matters isn’t the presentation of the book, it’s the meat. This piece is astoundingly intricate. It delves into much more detail than a simple propaganda piece ever could; and the prosecution knows that.”
He wiped his brow. “I am merely telling you that its value as a piece of evidence should not be underestimated. We must expect that the judges accept it as evidence.”

“Not if we can help it.” Estermann declared, waggling the marker between his fingers like a riding crop. “Even if they should show themselves impressed by Starswirl’s writings, we will pick apart the rest of the evidence, and we will stall! We will stall until they have to physically weld us off the stand.”

Garibaldi’s crossed arms nervously plucked at each others’ sleeves.
“So… not one step back?”

“We cannot afford to give concessions. Not now. We will only make the proceedings of the future harder for ourselves if we let the prosecutors get away with baseless allegations now.”

“Baseless...”
Garibaldi just rapped his finger on the desk nervously before curling them back around his elbows.

Chrysalis just smiled, tellingly. “Baseless.”

Garibaldi caught on immediately. He cleared his throat to get her attention.
“Your Highness, seeing how you… you are a contemporary witness, at least… can you maybe tell us how many other Changeling nations were there in 5 ad? How many female regents were in power at that point in time? How many other queens?”

Her eyes just narrowed challengingly.

“Your Highness.” Estermann snapped. “You will say nothing. This is not helpful in the slightest.”

His Italian aide-de-camp spent a few abrupt moments looking to and fro between the two.
“But... who was in charge? That’s all we need to know.”

“You know perfectly well who was in charge, lackey.” she declared with a wide, luscious grin on her snout.

“Are… are you saying… that...” Garibaldi babbled towards her, nervously massaging his right ear as he waited for a clarification

“I think that’s enough now, Garibaldi.” Estermann sighed.

Timid, he pointed over to the queen. “I mean… if she’s saying that... she was the only queen of Changelings… it would render the Prosecution’s case... accurate. And...”

Estermann glanced down at him like at a complete madman.

Determined, Garibaldi turned back to Chrysalis.
“Were… were you in a commanding position at Trot? You were, weren’t you?”

Estermann moved like a banshee. Before Chrysalis even had a chance to give an answer, he was at Garibaldi’s side, physically prying the Italian out of his seat by one arm.

“Mister Garibaldi, could I speak to you tete-a-tete?”
Nervously, he sprawled out of his chair as Estermann nodded towards Chrysalis apologetically. “Forgive me, your Highness. Just a little point of protocol we need to hammer out.”

“Take your time...” she smiled, watching Estermann as he shoved his aide away from the table and through a set of open double doors, stopping him inside a vestibule leading to yet another locked set of doors.
Squeezing the two of them between the two portals, Estermann leaned the doors behind them shut, trapping himself and Garibaldi in the narrow, dim space.

“W-what happened?” Garibaldi panted. “What point of protocol?”

“Let me get something straight!” Estermann began to roar. “You know perfectly well what our stance here is! The queen was not at Timbucktu! Not! Get it?”

“You heard what she’s been saying.” Garibaldi retorted, completely flustered. “I don’t like it either, but it’s very obvious that she is involved. And she probably led the whole damn army.”

Estermann grunted aggressively.

“You… you... need to inform her of the possibility of pleading guilty to the charges. It would save us-”

“Are you crazy? Pleading guilty… for what? This flimsy, propagandistic evidence?”

“She says she was there.” he whined, futilely trying to free himself from the narrow enclosure. “If you had given me another second with her, we could have had a formal confession.”

Estermann nearly impaled his cheek with an index finger. “Oh, I believe that. But I don’t give a shit what she’d say! I do not consider her words relevant to the proceedings!”

Garibaldi did not quite know what to say. “She’s in the defendant’s chair!”

“Wrong! This is pre-trial! She is but a suspect! And I intend for it to go no further than that. Only defendants get to plead guilt or innocence.”

Tired, Garibaldi hung his head low.
“I know that you’re trying to bail her out of this trial, but let me remind you that it’s our duty to help the court to find out the facts of the matter.”

“I know that.” he snarled. “The problem is that I do not believe her!”

Here, Garibaldi fell silent.
“Whyever not?”

He wiped his nose and struck out an arm.
“Have you seen her out there today? The way she… posed and pranced around for the press? She enjoys this! She loves being the bad one. The villain!”

“Hm.”
Perturbed, Garibaldi slightly pushed the door back open to catch a probing peek at the queen in question. “You think that… she might exaggerate her culpability?”

“Let me tell you something.” he breathed. “For the entire last week, I had to listen to her brag about her exploits in the field. And how often have I caught her denying any of the prosecutor’s charges? Never! She took whatever she got. Does that not seem odd to you? I think I could tell her she was accused of masterminding the Chicago Fire and she’d happily agree!”

Garibaldi nodded… though only very slightly.
“Why would she do that? She does realise this will put her behind bars for thirty years, doesn’t she? Nobody would go that far for a little bit of publicity.”

“Who knows? Maybe she is covering someone!” Estermann shrugged aggressively, “She has a stupefying amount of offspring, and every single one of them could have dirtied their hands… well hooves... in Timbucktu in her place.”

Garibaldi forced himself to a denigrating smile.
“So… all of this is just... motherly love?”

Estermann thought back to the promise that he had to give to the queen. The promise of protecting her young whatever may come…
It was definitely motherly love that spurred the changeling on, of all possible things.
“I don’t need to know her reasons.” he continued stoically, “All I know is that, at the moment, she is just not worthy of trust.”
He clasped Garibaldi’s shoulder, ignoring his uncomfortable squirming, “Do me one favour, Garibaldi: Use a salt mill when you speak to her. That, or don’t speak to her at all. Capisce?”

He grumbled tiredly.
”...Ma sì.”

Without warning, a bolt behind them slid out of its lock and the double doors on the vestibule’s other end dropped open. Spooked, the two jurists saw a security officer poking his head inside.
“Everything alright?”

Hesitantly, Estermann nodded.
“Y-yes. Do you mind?”

The officer bowed his head apologetically and looked down the check his wristwatch.
“You have twelve more minutes.”

“Yes, thank you.” Estermann sighed. “We’re about to head back to the courtroom anyway.”

“Alright, sir. Just checking.”
And with those words, the guard politely retracted his head and locked the door up again.

It took Estermann a moment to devote his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Right. Now, Garibaldi… Not another word about it. Got it?”

Estermann slowly pushed the other doors back open and bathed the tight vestibule in the office’s bright neon light. Then he let Garibaldi and himself step back inside to the Queen Chrysalis, who still lounged on the ground next to the table and looked a bit bored.
“So...” she started up, “You finished.”

“Absolutely.” Estermann confirmed sanguinely. “We figured out how to proceed from now on. We shall concentrate on Starswirl’s treatise. We will try our utmost to drag the book down and make it useless. ”

Chrysalis’s eyes scanned the two jurists intently.
“That’s it?”

“What?” Estermann asked, confused.

“Worm, you sound like this was going to be your plan to begin with.”

He shrugged. “Starswirl’s document is the weakest link. I... realised that the very moment I first read it a few days ago.”

She shook her head minimally.
“So what was there to discuss? Why did you interrupt the trial to talk this over if you already knew what’s got to be done?”

Garibaldi furrowed his brow in accord with the queen’s.
“To be quite honest, I think that’s a legitimate point. If there is something that worries you, I c-”

“Who the hay asked you, meatball?” Chrysalis snapped at the aide, “Be silent for once!”

Estermann was already going for his robe as he explained himself.
“I called the recess because... I got doubts.”

“Oh, what great timing.” she hissed. “What spoiled the mood for you?”

He bit his lips and stood straight.
“Because I can’t believe Pierman would make it this easy for us. Some part of me refuses to believe that she based her entire case on such a miserable piece of evidence like this one.”

“You think she might be bluffing?”

He nodded, albeit hesitantly.

“And… bluff what, exactly?” Garibaldi whispered. “That the prosecution’s better armed than that? Or…  that they’re not?”

Estermann frowned on the inside. His answer was as cryptic to him as it was to his aide and his client.
“...Yes.”