II.
Audi Alteram Partem
Scheveningen, The Hague
16. November, 2015
4:57 pm MET
The day had started out frozen solid.
The trees were bare, the grass was petrified by the morning frost. Heavy fog had descended over the coastal city, a fog of the sort that comes when the air is colder than the ground, shrouding the monstrous cargo ships resting in eyeshot of the spacious Scheveningen beaches, the regal sandstone palaces and slim brick rowhouses inbetween the Grachten in the old town, the skyscrapers and tenement housings in the outskirts, the bulky, bushy dykes along the coast and the endless, barren fields in the hinterland alike.
Steaming out of all holes in the ground, it ground all the worldy surfaces with bristly, unforgiving sea air, splitting massive rock and squeezing the life and warmth out of anybody or anything that dared to stand in the arctic onslaught’s path.
Everything drowned in this November fog. One could hardly see the hand before his eyes, even less so what lay in front of one’s feet or wheels. Sounds became numb and muffled, subsequently isolating sidewalk from sidewalk, building from building, even park bench from park bench. The world was becoming languid and lifeless, wearing down under the lethargic nothingness that the fog created.
Needless to say that Alexander Estermann felt faintly glad when the afternoon rolled around and thick grey clouds, accompanied by a moderately reviving gust of wind, began populating the bleak white sky above the city, driving off the fog withín minutes, upon which single specks of drizzle began running down the windshield of his cab.
His head rested against the car door, his pale cheek glued against the cold window, squeakishly shaking back and forth with every cobblestone passing by beneath his seat, staring out into the light rain trickling against the other side of the pane.
Things had not been going too well for him as of late, and the lethargy he now found himself in was a completely plausible after-effect of him letting out his anger on some random bellhop in his hotel.
He squeezed his eyes and his tremendous dark circles shut, and ran through his greying brunette hair.
With a groan, he dug himself deeper into his coat as if it was a cuddly blanket, harrowed by the prospect that he would probably soon be dumped out of the warm, heated car, and into the deeply maritime cold of some unspecified street corner.
The scornful voice of the taxi's radio brought him out of his comatose trance. That voice rang a bell...
"Beautiful... Canterlot Fugue... otherworldly... human.... current topic of discussion..."
He sharpened his ears.
"For everyone who has tuned in just now, we are discussing the upcoming trial of the Queen Chrysalis, the self-styled leader of the Equestrian Changelings minority, at the International Criminal Court in The Hague, a decidedly human institution."
Oh no, his mind screamed. oh no! Not the debate... anything but that damn debate!
He certainly made himself look like one massive idiot on that day, didn't he? And now they were rerunning it? Who the hell would re-run a radio debate?
"...On the other end, I have Alexander Estermann - a lawyer at the ICC who apparently will soon be stepping up as the defence counsel to Queen Chrysalis - who respectfully disagrees..."
With a jolt, the lawyer snapped out of his silent worriment and beckoned the cabby,
"Hey, can you change the channel or something?"
The driver just shook his head beliedly. "What? No. Why? It's interesting... It's about that big trial going on right now..."
"I don't care. Change the goddamn frequency before I do it myself!" Estermann ordered him harshly.
The cabbie huffed, then switched the whole radio off with a scathed expression.
Only minutes later, Estermann found himself kicked out onto some street corner somewhere in South Holland's suburbia, his wallet a few dozen Euros lighter.
Impatiently he was rang at a chrome nametag implanted on a chrome milepost next to a pretentiously low-built chrome garden gate. Maybe it wasn’t chrome, but that didn’t matter. Any of this presumptuously shiny metal they now used in the new buildings was chrome to him, he wouldn’t know better.
On the other side of the fence, behind an incredibly short-cut lawn, there rested a small yet cozy two story residence, an obscure modern Edwardian townhouse revival, in all its smart white and anthracite glory. Well, at least it blended in perfectly with the bleakness of the sky.
This was the place where, according to the nametag, a certain C. Mullan, Dr jur resided.
After what seemed like an eternity, someone took mercy on him and hailed him over the intercom.
Who he was, a petty woman’s voice asked.
“Alexander Estermann.” He just stated, deadpan and much to the point. She should have known who he was. They were expecting him, after all.
After an embarrassing silence, the garden gate buzzed and unlocked. Simultaneously, the front door opened and a meek housemaid peeped through as the man made his way over the prim front lawn.
As he arrived in the wardrobe, Estermann was quickly shown just how far he was out of the housemaid’s mind.
She greeted him with a sigh and absently stripped him of his coat, nearly spilling his scarf on the wet floor while doing it, only to retreat back into the nearby kitchen with a disinterested expression. Estermann, who could mostly get a look of her from behind, and felt that stressful gastric concoction cauterise his bowels once again. Just before his ire levels came anywhere near causing a nervous breakdown, he swallowed his frustration hopefully when a much more homely character stepped into the wardrobe to greet him. It was a rather corpulent man in his sixties, sporting badly-cut white hair and a red wool sweater.
“Defence Counsel?” he huffed.
“Your Honour?” Estermann sighed.
Then the two men exchanged weary grins, then embraced in a cordial hug.
“Glad you still came, Alex.” the judge said in his typical warm Monaghan patois. "I see you're still holding on to your hat? You're not reneging on any promise, now are you?"
“And how.” The lawyer snarked as he searched the pockets of his coat. “Colm, can I smoke?”
The overweight judge stepped forward immediately, as if to restrain Estermann’s searching hand.
“Don't, Alex. Patricia will kill me!”
“Your wife?”
Colm’s flaming eyebrows glared at him.
“We have other guests today. And I think you know what a... bitch she can be on days like these.”
“Mhm. God forbid, Patricia…” Esterman picked up his suitcase with a disappointed shrug of his shoulders. "Well, at least you're still serving roastbeef today, right?"
"Eh, about that..." the judge mumbled, but his words tailed out as he examined his friend's pale countenance. “Anyway, you do look like you need a smoke.” he stated with a concerned expression. “You didn’t try to find my house all day, did you?”
Estermann closed his eyes and rubbed the temple of his eyes.
“I could have just as well. The day wouldn’t have been any less fucking wasted.”
“What happened?”
The overweight judge received quite an incensed glare from his colleague.
“Happened? Fucking ponies happened. That’s what happened.”
"I... see."
The judge led him to the great door that separated the wardrobe from the dining room, while the lean defence counsel, much under the impression that his colleague offered him a shoulder to sob on, began venting his frustrations in a hissy undertone.
“Telephone conferences with the court, interviews with some media outlets, and lots and lots of stupid questions. That’s my day in a nutshell. Everybody with a telephone connection and their mother just had to call me and ask me obvious things or things I didn't know, congratulate me on my luck to be where I am, and of course block my phone lines for much more important calls.”
The judge nudged him playfully.
“Ach, cheer up, Alex. You’re a much-sought-after man now. No more administration in Geneva. You’ve got to step up. You’re rolling with the big blokes now."
Then he added giddily, rubbing his hands together. "Anyway, where are Lena and your kid?"
The lean jurist simply groaned at the question.
"Geneva. Because I couldn't find a fucking flat for them before they missed their flight."
“Oh, bear up. I'm sure you'll find something nice and big before long. Now you have to concentrate on your work. You have a big assignment waiting at the ICC tomorrow. And that’s also why we reserved you a special guest’s seat tonight.”
Estermann looked up dubiously.
“Since when do you do special guests’ seats?”
“It’s the seat closest to the cloakroom.”
Estermann rolled his eyes and halted in front of the closed double door.
“Well, with someone like dear old Patricia in the kitchen…” Then he huffed and looked around skeptically.
He did not want to step inside before his friend. He was never the sort of person who would walk up to others unless it was something crucial. And dinner parties were nothing of the sort.
Letting his bored eyes wander around the wardrobe, he espied something lying on the cupboard right next to him.
“And what’s that?”
He picked it up. It was a porous piece of heavily crumpled paper, still moist from the rain. On one side, someone had messily written something with a thick black marker. “’PAARDENNEUKER’? What does that mean?”
The judge adjusted his glasses and sheepishly relieved him of the paper.
“Ehm.. Horse fucker.”
Estermann looked up to the heavens.
“What the hell, Colm? Can’t I leave you be for a year without you associating with such individuals?"
“Oh shut up." the judge exclaimed in mock offence and smiled. “I only found this thing this morning. Some caffler wrapped it around a D-battery and tried to smash one of my windows with it.” Then he cracked a snigger. “He missed. It chipped the wall, though.”
Estermann pressed his lips together, a certain level of concern brewing up in among his forehead wrinkles.
“Oh, wow... Ah, at least now I know what spooked your maid so much. Who do you think it was?”
"Didn't even have to call CSI. I think we both know who did it.” Mullan answered. “A group with a taste for poignant, yet refined species-based criticism."
"Pardon?"
"A bunch of bigoted hooligans."
“Let me guess - it’s because of fucking ponies, then?” the jurist quipped. “And why target you, anyway? I mean, I'd still understand if the prosecution or the defence would get letters like those. Or that 'Council of Harmony' back in Equestria. But you’re a judge, you shouldn’t be held accountable for anything yet.”
“You think gobshites like them care about such details? They just look for scapegoats to let out their anger on, they’re not in the business for the thinking.”
He flung the letter back onto the cupboard and rested a hand on the doorknob. “Another thing, Alex. For the next two hours, could you kindly try not to mention this thing? And could you please not refer to the equines as ‘fucking ponies’ anymore?”
Estermann raised his eyebrows, mildly surprised.
“Why suddenly so PC, Colm? What else should I call them, after all the experience I had with those equines?
The judge twisted the knob and sighed.
“Have you ever met an equine in person?”
“That no. And quite honestly, I'm not looking forward to.”
Colm pushed the lock and let the door open.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, Alex. Now be professional.”
“What do you...?”
The door slid open, revealing a lush dinner table, packed with salad bowls, great white plates covered up with blue tissues, and pointy crystal champagne glasses.
The guests that sat around the table, three of them all in all, turned toward the expectant lawyer. One of them, the physically smallest as it seemed, poked up from where she was seated with big lilac eyes, the tissue tied around her neck sweeping across the tablecloth under her chin. Her face was largely obscured as she licked the inside of a bowl, and only her ginger hair could be seen.
‘Oh what a sweet little girl.’ Estermann first thought and grinned. ‘Whose is she? And how old?’
Then she lowered the bowl.
Only in the next second the pleasant smile disappeared from the lawyer’s face as his lips folded inside.
‘What a… big snout she has. What green, furry skin.’ he noted.
Seriously, whose kid was this?!
“Oh, gweethings thoo you!” the thing squeaked, her large, long snout filled to the brim with leaves.
The early evening dawn came around very slowly, to say the least. Estermann nervously kneaded his serviette on his lap, slowly tearing it to shreds. His hunger bulged and his anguish continued to swell with every minute it became more apparent that there would be no roastbeef that evening.
Across the table, there rested the clean, visibly polished hooves of the evening’s centre of attention.
The olive-green equine was so human-like, so un-animalistic, that one could easily mistake her for a child in the first minute.
Licking her gums with a dainty little tongue, her eyes wandered back and forth between the defence counsel and the Great Green salad in front of her with wondrous fascination.
Then her head leaned over to the champagne glass, and snatched the brittle mineral cup’s side in her jaw. She proceeded to tilt her head upwards, until its contents flowed though her teeth into her mouth. Nobody seemed to mind that some drops managed to escape her lips and tricked down the sides of her snout, soaking her short coat as well as her collar - or rather, a blazer suit’s frill tailored in the form of a yoke - and dripping on the tablecloth.
Everyone else just looked at their own plates or at each other, acting content and busy. Only Estermann scrutinised the mare with an unsure, remotely disgusted expression.
But, granted, for all the sloppiness of her trying to drink out of a human's glass, it had a certain air of refinement and method to it. It certainly was a skillful act for a creature without hands, or even a normal-shaped mouth.
In the moments in which he could free himself from the pony’s sway, he looked at each of the other guests, just to see if they would at least react to him.
Apart from Colm the judge, there also sat two others.
Colm had taken a minute to explain that the third judge of the trial chamber, Dr Suruma, had been invited too, but she had excused herself due to some unforeseen trouble with her appendix, or something like that. Despite that, there still were those two other guests.
One was a thin, tall and silent middle-aged man who Estermann didn't recognise, with sizeable eyebrows and chin and clad in a rather outdated striped lounge suit, absent-mindedly scrutinising his salad bowl and discretely corpsing about something supposedly funny as he puffed on a very fancy Petersen pipe.
That pipe was, however, no concern of the other person, Colm’s dear wife, Patricia, who had set the mood of the evening for Estermann with a word-scarce, forced smile that practically screamed insults at Estermann’s face. He had never liked her, and the feeling was more than mutual. Anyone with one eye could see that she was trying to hide away her displeasure behind that great, fake, Stepford-worthy grin, as not to ruin the meal for everyone else.
With that unpleasant sight occupying his mind, Estermann’s sight quickly settled back on the equine creature sitting across from him.
Funny, how little he could tell about her. Every other person at the table could have half their life interpreted solely from their facial expressions and mannerisms alone.
But that pony was nothing like that. Her mannerisms were a mystery to him. Every time she shifted her eyes, twitched her ears or pouted after swallowing a bite of food, would simply not add up to any indication of how she felt or what currently occupied her mind.
She was, all things considered, an animal, so what else was to be expected?
“My name is Lexy Fori.” the pony said suddenly, and gave her opposite a warm smile.
Her voice was something awkward to listen to. Estermann had thought it would be deep and drawn-out like any other horse's whinny. It turned out to be even more disturbing and unnatural, in the form of a high-pitched, yet a tiny bit raspy something, like a cross between the sounds of a cat and a young goat. Her English was unnervingly impeccable, but the lawyer could not place the accent. “I’ve come to help Lord Colm and Lady Jessica. But I guess you know that already.”
“Mhm, yes.” Estermann replied automatically. “Wait… Lord Colm?”
“Oh, silly me.” The pony chided herself with a light-hearted hoof to the forehead. “It’s just that, where I come from, we call all the Princess’ judges Lords and Ladies. You see, it’s all part of the royal etiquette.”
She hesitated momentarily. “I was actually a bit surprised your court’s etiquette is so… lax.” She let that wondrous expression linger for another second. "Compared to Canterlot, I mean."
Estermann giggled. He intended to do so in approval, but then he latched on to the fact that the word kept bemusing him. It was one of those little things he would probably never grow used to. As opposed to some of the much, much bigger things...
He knew exactly why that pony was here. She wanted to be that sole judge from Equestria, in a sea of human judges. It was all settled and determined in the arrangement between the Equestrian nations and the ICC. The earth pony had probably been proclaimed a 'Judge in the Court of Harmony' by her Princess at the very last second, for the sole purpose of representing the Equine world in this trial. She didn't look like she had a lot of experience with presiding trials. Estermann was sure that if she had, she wouldn't be sitting here and grinning from ear to ear like that.
It was clear that it must have been some joker who had shoved her into the plane to The Hague. She was probably the last pers-p-pony to expect it all to go so fast.
Then again, anything even mildly related to Equestria had the propensity to develop very, very quickly. Ever since its discovery, Equestria had been such a big deal with world leaders everywhere, that they were usually given a preferential treatment in otherwise complicated political processes. Whereas other nations would need years to get a seat in the UN, Equestria managed to get one after only five months of intense negotiations with the Security Council. Whereas signing, ratifying and enforcing the Rome Statute would have taken human state dozens of months, Equestria had their process behind them after a couple of weeks of tremendous bureaucratic efficiency. Even the participation in the Olympic Games had been in the talks for a couple of weeks or so.
If Equestria didn't prove how surprisingly effective civil servants could be if they only cared enough, then nothing did.
“Canterlot, heh. Why did I think I wouldn't hear that name again?” he commented.
“Why? Canterlot is the Princesses’ home city.” The mare explained dutifully. “So, of course, our court is there too.”
“Your court?” Estermann mumbled. “So how many courts do you have in… uh…?”
“In Equestria? Oh, we have one biiig court for everything, sir. Right in the heart of the land.” She said and spread her hooves, as if trying to grasp everything in the court’s jurisdiction.
"You're talking about... that 'Council of Harmony', don't you?" he asked a little confused.
"Oh no no. I've been appointed a judge there too, as of... a week and a half ago." she grinned, "But the court I'm talking about now is the Court of Equestria, where I have been working for lots of years before that."
“Aha. So... this is awkward, isn't it?” the jurist commented.
Lexy’s hooves shrunk back meekly.
“Oh, um. What is?”
“Well, you have only one court? In the entire country?”
Estermann priggishly swirled the contents of his champagne glass. “It must be a tad impractical to maintain one court for a whole nation.”
“Oh, not at all.” Lexy objected. “I have to say it would be a teeny bit silly for a land to have two royal courts. Or three. We only have one royal family, right?”
She followed up with a cheeky little wink of an eye.
“Royal court? No no no, I’m talking about courts of law.”
Now the pony seemed a bit confused.
“Y-yes, so am I, sir. I’m not really sure you mean the same thing I do.”
“Legal courts!” Estermann enunciated, a little roughly.
“It’s the same, Alexander.” Colm interrupted them politely. “The Royal Court is the country’s legal institution.”
"Precisely." The equine justice agreed. “Princess Celestia could not possibly take care of many such courts. She has her hooves full presiding over our court already.”
“The Princess?” Estermann asked, focusing his eyes on the wall behind her in thought.
Then they slid back towards the equine, bearing a suspicious gleam. “Excuse me. It’s just that I was expecting Equestria to be, you know, a nomocracy.”
The was a moment of silence at the table. A nomocracy was a state where rule of law kept the government in check, rather than the other way around. To accuse a nation of being anything else but a nomocracy was generally felt to be a weighty allegation. At least, in most places...
“Oh, but it isn’t.” the pony clarified innocently and smiled. “I’m glad we could clear up that confusion. I’m sure it’s an easy mistake to make, sir.”
“Yes.” The laywer said, gritting his teeth.
His voice was calm, but his eyes were projecting revolt and detestation. “As a matter of fact, one could think that the International Criminal Court would never come to cooperate with regimes...”
Just as Estermann could pick up the sound of Mullan choking over a loaf of bread at that other heavyweight statement, the equine simply made a shrug-like motion, still friendly and rather oblivious to the controversy.
“Oh well, there is a first time for everything, right?"
She did not wait to jump straight to the next topic. "I swear, when I first set hoof on this beautiful soil, I thought I’d keel over instantly because it all was so overwhelming. The buildings, the furniture, the carts, the names, the colours, the landscape…”
A few amicable, approving sighs followed from across the table as some of the other guests quickly and politely empathised with her position. Estermann gave her a glare before adjusting himself into a more lax, limp position, not caring to mask his boredom after she bailed out on his accusation.
“It’s actually really funny.” she continued, once more whipping out one of her hooves as she relived one of her experiences in detail. “I mean, first I got out of the ‘air-plane’ that brought me here – believe me, I have never ever been in something so big that moved, let alone flew! – and the friendly humans at the ‘gate’ to the station told me to take a seat.
And at first I didn’t find any place to sit down, I was waddling around the room like a clueless duck. But the only thing I saw were those strange coffee tables standing around the place. Nothing I could slip onto anywhere in sight!
Only then, somepony told me to sit on those coffee tables!” she suffered from a short giggle fit, “because those were human benches all along! I swear, they are maybe two hooves higher than an Equestrian bench, and it makes that kind of difference in their...” she stroked her lower jaw, “what do you call it…”
“Aesthetic!” the judge’s dreary wife exclaimed in excitement.
“Prospect, yes! The prospect of usage.” The pony chimed and winked pleasedly as Patricia retracted into her seat.
‘The stupid attention horse.’ Estermann just thought to himself and smirked.
“It’s the little things that make the difference, right? Just like with the names. I was befuddled when humans began introducing themselves to me. Did you know it is required by law around here for every human to have at least two names? I didn’t know that, I can tell you. Before long, I started calling those humans, who were all very very important people ‘Hey Walker!’ and ‘Good morning, Barry’. Of course, back in good old Equestria – oh how much I miss it already – we only have one or two names per pon- uhm, per person. One would actually call the others by their foremost name. Take somepony named Bubbles for example. Once you met her, you can call her Bubbles forevermore. Unless, of course, she is in the royal family. Or a mayor. Or a guard…”
“Bubbles?”
Estermann couldn’t help but greet this with smiles. “How should I call you then? Lady… Fori?”
“Oh goodness. Please, call me Lexy. Everypony, please call me Lexy.”
Estermann leaned forward.
He had to ask the mare something before she could cut him off again.
“Alright. Lexy… What did you do before you came to The Hague?”
Lexy seemed a tad caught off-guard by the unprovoked question.
“I... had breakfast in Hoofington. It's at the lower coast. Why do you ask?”
Estermann scratched his eyebrow.
“No, I mean… how did you come to be in that 'Court of Canterlot'? What did you do to become a legal expert?”
“Oh. It runs in the family, I guess. See, I was born in Ponyville. A tiny village just below Canterlot. My mother is the mayor there. And my father is chaircolt of the local council. So I can surely say I had the great luck to grow up right in the heart of Ponyvillian politics. Now, this may not sound like much, and really, there weren't very many exciting things going on back then...
"But once you spend your whole life – from your first meals at the crib to the day you pass on your school desk to the next tenderhoof – you enjoy this very special outlook on what is happening around you, and what events your hometown is struggling through, and you get a very strong sense for justice, and you learn to care deeply about those who depend on your skills. My mum taught me more about the office and the duties of the mayor than any schoolmistress in Canterlot or Hoofington ever could.”
"Oh really?"
She rose from the chair she was lounging on and raised her flank above the table, so that everybody else could see what she had there. The party guests approved not even remotely of her putting her buttocks on display at a dinner, and squinted, trying to avoid the sight of it altogether. The man with the big eyebrows laughed heartily. The Swiss lawyer closed his eyes completely.
“And, well, once my flank flashed white and my cutie mark appeared, I knew there was no turning back.”
A picture of a gavel embellished her side. “From that day on, I was commanded by destiny. For me, it was either off to Canterlot to join the great lawmakers and judges at Celestia’s table in the Royal Court, or…” she chuckled, “off to Manehattan to join my auntie at the big Art Auction House.”
Then she sat down again, which was received by some relief from the other party guests. “Of course, I went to the only place where I could make a true difference. The Princesses' capital.”
Then her lilac pupils settled on Estermann. "Now... how about you?"
Now it was Estermann's turn to be caught off guard by the counter-question.
"Ehm, what?"
"Where do you come from, Alexander?"
Estermann rolled his eyes as subtly as possible. As far as he was concerned, this was not up for debate.
Mullan immediately filled in for his silent colleague.
"Mr Estermann has been in the business for nigh sixteen years now. He started when he was only twenty-two. An early up-start he was, back then."
"Well, yes." Estermann quickly cut him off.
That Irish bastard knew that what he hated more than talking about his life was to let others fill it in for him. "I was a couple of months at the Swiss Federal Court, eleven years in Geneva, and three years in Vienna. I have worked in administration and legal defence, and before that, I received my degree in Law and History at the University of Munich in 2000."
Simple and concise.
"Ah. And... and where were you born?"
"In Lucerne."
"So... you aren't from here?"
"It's in Switzerland. Do you know where Switzerland is?"
The mare opened her mouth to give an answer, but only an uncertain moan could escape it. Instead, her eyes moved all the more.
"I'm sorry... I'm afraid I didn't find the time yet to study that part of your world yet."
Again, Colm nervously jumped into the situation.
"No harm done, Lexy. After all, none of us got the chance to study Equestrian geography either. I mean... Ponyville, Manehattan, Hoofington... where is that?"
He let out a forced giggle. "Am I right, Alexander?"
Estermann lazily lowered his chin on a hand as he waited for the opportunity of an answer to pass.
'Yeah. where is Canterlot?' he thought silently.
The green mare, on the other hand, seemed uplifted by the lighthearted avowal. She bent over to her counterpart anew, and asked him,
"But, Alexander... I must ask you something about your work." In an instant, the amicable smile evaporated from her face, only to be replaced by an intrigued nod of the head. "Is it true that... it is your duty to defend... Queen Chrysalis?"
Deprived of any enthusiasm, Estermann shot the answer right back. Shouldn't she already know that?
"I am the Defence Counsel in this trial. So yes, I am going to defend her."
Contrary to his expectations, the mare didn't back off. Instead, she lingered close to him for a few more moments, contemplating him doubtfully.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
Her ears drooped.
"Well, yes. It's... it's Queen Chrysalis we're talking about. Isn't it? I was just thinking... how do you feel about that?"
This question seemed to grab the attention of the other guests as well, as they subtly glanced at the lawyer, expecting his answer. Estermann noticed that too, and lowered his eyes in thought.
"How I feel about it?"
"Haven't you met her yet?" the mare inquired, seemingly unsettled by his oblivious, uninvolved attitude.
"No. As far as I know, she isn't even in the country yet..." Estermann defended himself.
"Actually..." Mullan said between two gulps from his champagne glass. "She arrived only this morning, at Rotterdam Airport. She was scarcely on the ground ten minutes, when she already managed to rough up a couple of policemen."
"What?" Estermann and Lexy said, nearly in unison.
"The Hague Gendarmerie sent me a memo about it. A broken ribcage, a dislocated shoulder,... second degree burns, a severed finger..."
"Honey, please..." Patricia hissed.
"Sorry, pet. I am just saying... there is a reason Alexander could not go and see her yet."
Estermann could not help but feel an icy shiver run down his neck.
A severed finger?
Burns?
How the hell did she manage to burn them?
"Oh, deary me..." A dry laughter emanated from the other end of the table from the man with the eyebrows. He seemed to be a bit like a joker. "Looks like you just picked a right feisty client right there, my friend." He leaned over to the judge. "I must say, I never was a fan of finger food, but this is ridiculous." he commented with a palsied grin.
The other guests, including Colm, seemed to try really hard to pretend he wasn't there.
"Let us eat first."
"Nevermind." the man slurred and turned to Estermann. "What I am saying is, lucky upstart you, you've surely got yourself someone who is willing to fight for her rights. Read fight."
"Yes. Hilarious. Pure comedy gold." Estermann retorted.
"Alright. Enough, please."
It wasn't Colm who said that.
Everyone turned to the little green pony on the other end of the table.
"I am sorry, I don't want to be rude. But I must ask... should we really be finding this funny?"
That came out of the blue.
The jolly talking horse, unable to smile at something? What a riot!
She looked back at Estermann with concerned, uneasy eyes, then back at the others.
"Again, I'm really sorry, Colm, but... I don't think this is funny at all." she stated. "Not if it comes to Queen Chrysalis. Don't you think your friend here..."
She waved a hoof in Estermann's direction, "is not already very much in distress, even without somepony making fun about it?"
Estermann eyes widened in surprise.
"After all, Alexander is the one who has to work with Queen Chrysalis. Who has to defend Queen Chrysalis. Who has to justify everything she has done to others in her whole life. Do you understand what it means to defend... Queen Chrysalis? The thought of the task is enough to give me the shivers."
"Lexy. It was just us being sarcastic." the judge explained.
"No. This is not a joke. Not if Queen Chrysalis means as much to you as she means to us."
She sighed, visibly shaken by her own outrage. "Do you know what a lot of ponies call Queen Chrysalis where I come from? They call her... the shadow. Nopony really knows why they call her that anymore. Some say it's because in the old legends, half of the time, the only true form you would see of her would be her shadow - dark, looming, tall, consuming... giving away the darkness beneath the innocent pony's skin she wore.
"Others say it is because she could creep you and trail you so perfectly and so tenaciously that she might as well be your shadow. For all you know, she could be disguising herself as your own shadow.
"Or worse. Like when she disguises herself as you... taking your place at the family dinner, your homely bed, your place in front of the fireplace. Licking her gums at the sight of your young ones playing and tussling around her own hooves.
"Or worse. When she could be absolutely anypony else. Your neighbour. Your spouse. Your own little filly or colt. And you wouldn't be able to tell. What fear you would be living with, knowing that your own loved ones may not really be there, with you, but instead..." She trailed off. "Another chilling theory is that... she is a shadow. Or the shadow. All-consuming, chilling, louring. That wherever she flies, she blots out the sun from high above. Higher than any pegasus could travel. And that anything that is unfortunate enough to be rolled over by her shade... is devoured. Or better yet, swept away, like in a tidal wave of greed and hunger. Be it a solitary pony on the edge of the Everfree, a solitary house in the middle of the Appaloosan savannah, or a solitary village or town in the heart of the Canterlot mountains. Swept away, seemingly off the earth's surface. Nopony left to tell what happened. And nopony ever to be seen again."
"My, it sounds like quite a campfire tale..." Colm's wife remarked.
"It does." the pony answered warily.
The tone of her voice however did not hold any irritation or derision, as would be expected. Instead, it held melancholy. Melancholy and despair. The affection to the tale was noticeable. "Now, imagine it all to be real."
She turned back to the Swiss lawyer. "I am sorry. I am genuinely sorry, Alexander. I didn't mean to unsettle you. I can hardly even imagine what a ginormous task it will be to have to justify... that. I know I couldn't do it. By Celestia, I would rather give away my post at the Royal Canterlot Court than having to stand up for... that tartarus-spawn..."
The way she referred to the defence in the trial somehow suggested that she was little familiar with that procedure.
The Swiss lawyer collected himself. While he did find the tale quite intriguing, he forcibly reminded himself of the pure ridiculousness of it. This was a war criminal they were talking about. Not a bedtime bugaboo.
This campfire story couldn't possibly be a foundation of the charges against Chryalis, right? Because that would be, needless to say, laughable.
"All well and good, Lexy. But are you aware it is not my duty to defend Queen Chrysalis from allegations stemming from fairytales? She is here because she has committed serious atrocities against defenceless others and waged a war of aggression. Not because of... devouring shadows."
Lexy was not amused.
"Don't you know what she feeds on?" she asked him grimly.
"Meat?" Colm guessed.
"Fingers?" the man next to him laughed.
"No," the equine said and snorted. "Considering all the stuff she did back in Equestria... it's nearly difficult for me to believe she just 'roughed up' those unfortunate police officers today."
"Well yes. If you consider biting someone's finger off as 'roughing' someone up." the Swiss lawyer snarked.
"Trust me, Alexander. That... monster... took far more gruesome things from ponies. Things that made her the 'legend' she is nowadays. Ironically enough, it was neither head nor hoof she took..."
Again, she sighed. "...but the heart."
"She... removed their hearts?" Colm asked, his face floating somewhere between fascination and disgust.
"Honey, please!"
The pony shook her head.
"She stripped them of all their love and affection. She left them as empty shells."
The others looked at her funnily, unsure how to react. Estermann ended the moment, appropriately enough, with a snort.
"Their love?"
"Oh, classy. This is some great wedding hymn material." the man cackled. "Their hearts, wonderful."
"Hm..." Colm tried to say, but couldn't bring forth anymore.
Estermann felt like he had to burst out laughing uncontrollably, and looked around. For amoment, as he looked around, he felt a little like a doctor inside a mental ward.
"You are saying that she took their love, and that's why the 'Council of Friendship' wants to indict her, and that's why we're all here, trying her?"
The Equestrian magistrate nodded.
"That is what we must take to heart."
"You're saying that Queen Crysalis is standing trial in front of the International Criminal Court - probably the most important legal entity in the world - not because of attempted genocide, and not because of a policy of racism... but... love theft?"
Before she could answer once more, he spread one of his hands to visualise just how aghast he was. "I really hope you are not being serious."
"What do you mean?" the pony exclaimed and lowered her ears once more.
"I..." He pressed his fingernails against his forehead. "I don't know how you might do things in Equestria, in that one court you have there... but this is the wrong place to spout corny horror plots and try to sell them as legitimate prosecution material."
The other guests stared at him.
Colm immediately reprimanded his friend on his harsh words.
"Alexander... I think you're underestimating the psychological impact of Queen Chrysalis' actions-"
"Fuck the psychological impact, Colm!" Estermann snapped. "This is not a criminal trial, this is a farce."
He stood up and looked around the table, with everyone looking back at him as if he had lost his mind. "Just take our precious 'Magistrate' sitting next to us for example."
He pointed down at the trembling equine. "Total obliviousness to the concept of 'legal defence' aside, she is perhaps the most preposterous excuse for a judge I have ever seen. I'm sure she'd make an adorable image in a little robe and a wig, but I cannot get over the idea that she carries the responsibility of a panel judge alongside Dr Suruma and yourself!"
"What are you saying?" the mare asked him in an abashed voice.
"I made my degree in Law at the University of Munich in 2000. Where are your qualifications from? Ponyville Comprehensive? Can-ter-lot Secondary? Mummy's drawer?"
The overweight judge stood up from his chair.
"Alexander! Magistrate Fori is our guest and our colleague. And as far as I can tell, an exceptional jurisprudent. She came here with the best regards from her Princess and the Council, and this is still not exactly an easy situation for her."
"How does that change anything? As far as I can tell, her so-called 'princess' is judge, jury and executioner at her own court anyway! Seeing how they apparently don't even have an independent Judiciary, and - God beware! - frown on legal defence!"
The pony magistrate gasped.
"Are you saying something against Princess-"
But the lean lawyer cut her short.
"Magistrate Fori, or whatever your title is... around these parts of the globe, a judge is required to rule fairly and justly, and must have the capacity to see the accused as both guilty and innocent, and be able to weigh the odds. But you...!"
He knocked on the table sarcastically. "...you come in here and promptly start spewing all the distaste and half-truths about the defendant and her species you can think of, calling her a monster and a shadow... not once granting her the benefit of being portrayed as a normal being, an ordinary subject before the law... I bet you cannot wait to get this trial over with. Conflict of Interest is the magic word. Would your little tirade leak to the prosecutor, Magistrate, you'd be drummed out on your twitchy little ear, back to Ponyville, back to being just a horse again!"
"Alex! You're the one who's making the tirade!"
The exasperated lawyer looked around. His long-time friend was standing up, just like him, glaring at him with nearly passionate anger. The wife had gone back to smugly playing with her plate of salad, the corners of her mouth damning the lawyer for even attending the party. The man with the eyebrows looked down, unable to contain an amused grin behind his hand. The green equine with the ginger hair had sunken back into her chair, twiddling her hooves, brooding, bitterly awaiting the end of the harangue.
Estermann would have liked to carry straight on with what else was wrong about this trial, just to prove his point and to save face, but the words got stuck in his throat, like a big puffy lump.
He was running on empty.
"I think it would be better if I accompany you to the door now." Colm suggested sternly.
Estermann bit his lip, strongly. He could already feel the blood gushing out.
Bitterly, he nodded and respired.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Alex?! What is it with you and being an arsehole the entire time?!"
The overweight judge scrambled forth a bunch of keys, his hands shivering in agitation as he looked for the key to the front door. "You were the one who came here! You were the one who crawled here on his knees, begging for a commission at the ICC defence office! To get out of that shithole Geneva! You've got your commission now, so why are you complaining?"
"I'm complaining, Colm..." the skinny lawyer retorted in a raucous hiss, "because, if Missus Ed out there would have her way, I'd be out of my job altogether! As far as she is concerned, I am superfluous in this trial. Because they, those fucking horses, don't have that little thing called 'defence' in Equestria... in any case not for this Chrysalis bitch! She doesn't want Chrysalis to get a defence. This is what it'd amount to. For her, I'm just some kind of equality pet who must be patronised and bewailed, not taken seriously. And if she were human, this could... no... should end in a fucking recusal for her!"
"Well you could have handled your complaint a little more tactfully, you thick bastard." the judge huffed.
"Well excuse me, Colm." the lean lawyer huffed back. "It's just, when I signed up for the court ten years ago, I was actually convinced that I would be working with some halfway decent people around here. People who know their duties."
He fell silent momentarily. "Can you tell me what happened here in the last few months, Colm? Since when has the judicial system made space for... a kangaroo court? And who invited the fucking pony in there to be part of the legal proceedings?"
"You know who, Alex! Legal cooperation with Equestria's Council of Harmony in this trial was one of the terms of the goddamn extradition agreement. It's the entire reason why she's here in the first place. You of all people should know that!"
He breathed, robbed of energy. "Just let the horses do their work. In a cosmic kind of way, they're basically just here as observers. Nothing more."
"Judges are not observers!" Estermann reminded him forcefully.
"I think the Equines have a right to do their part in sentencing her. They're the ones who suffered, after all. Not us."
"Right. But, apart from the glaringly obvious fact that that would mean they are conflicted, they have 'suffered' from something that, as of now, cannot be backed up by a single shred of evidence." he sighed.
However, the judge would have none of that.
"You don't have to do this, you know!" he reminded the lawyer. "You can resign... tomorrow, if you want. No one's stopping you. If you really think this isn't your fight, then go, just go."
"Where? Back to Geneva?"
Estermann contemplatively shook his head. "I need this, Colm. I'm not leaving The Hague. Not like that, anyway. What are the odds I'd ever be able to find an appointment around here again after this? In the next, what, ten to fifteen years?"
He rubbed the cold sweat from his forehead. "But it just had to be the one with the horses, right? Not... humans? We are a human court."
"Not anymore, Alex. This is a court of the world's 'sapient species' now. This is what we have to get used to."
Finally, Colm found the key he was looking for, and unlocked the entrance. Cold evening air streamed in as the hefty door tilted open.
"Quite frankly, I don't know what to be more shocked about." Estermann concluded gloomily. "That the honourable ICC is conspiring with an autocracy... or that it conspires with a bunch of animals..."
"Alex." Colm shouted over the wind, "Shut up and focus. Tomorrow, 8:00 o'clock am sharp, conference room 207c. Briefing for all legal staff in the trial at the Permanent Premises. Will you be there?"
"Obviously. 8:00 o'clock then."
Estermann buttoned up his mantle. "And when can I see... uh... the defendant?"
"Queen Chrysalis? Well, phone the warden at Scheveningen, make an appointment. Tomorrow, if possible."
"Okay."
Silently, he stepped out of the warm foyer, out into the brash November wind.
"Alex?"
He turned around a last time.
"Colm?"
"This Queen Chrysalis... do you think she's even worth it? I mean, worth such a cocky defence? After all, she bit someone's finger off only this morning. From the sound of things, she is not exactly Bambi's mum, Alex."
"Audi alteram partem, Colm! Everyone deserves quality defence in a courtroom. Anyone can be looked upon from two sides. And anyone who says something different can kiss my arse! Thanks for the dinner."