III. Struggling Together
III.
Struggling Together
ICC Permanent Premises, The Hague
Office Tower 1
17. November, 2015
8:09 pm MET
Estermann settled down behind a conference table facing the platform with a cup of tea, a paper plate of waffles, a newspaper and a laptop. Rubbing the sand out of his swollen tear sacs, he looked around the tumult that took place around him.
So this was conference room 207c. A rather beautiful place, actually. This room was, just like the entire building, freshly spruced up. One side of the room was pure pristine glass, void of any scratches or stains, with a decent view on an assortment of some young balding linden and chestnut trees on the front lawn. The rest of the room consisted of blank tilework arraying on the walls and dark shiny metal slides making up the ceiling above them, intersected by neon lightwork every few metres or so.
This whole atmosphere was still so crisp and unused he could still smell the lacquer on the elegantly curved plastic seats and the tabletops, the polish on the brittle ceramic walls and even freshly welded plastic cables behind the facade. The Permanent Premises had been under construction for months, completed in record time, and ceremonially inaugurated only a couple of weeks back.
Truly a hymn to the human sense of justice, a poetic design student would have said. It consisted of an array of glass skyscrapers, standing on an artificial platform surrounded by a rectangular moat.
Like a castle of justice. Like a stronghold of righteousness and professionalism, unimpeached by race, creed or nationality, spiritually seized in symmetric glass, porcelain and chrome square tiles. And even though Estermann knew that he shouldn't be too fond of a mixture of these materials, as overused and stilted as they already were, any notion of pretentiousness and kitsch quickly melted away under the feeling of pride and elation of being allowed to reside in such an institution.
They even let loose a twiner inside the room, as if even the nature outside in the park was being represented. It was a nice psychological touch for anyone who had spent years of his life trapped in a grey, stale, asbestos-infested office hive.
Estermann turned away from his meagre brunch treats and looked at the people flooding through the glass double door.
They were mostly humans in black and blue blazers, just what one would expect from such a formal pre-trial conference. The Registrar was there, the President of the Court, journalists, investigators, case-related experts, security agents, countless case managers and legal consultants, many of whom Estermann had the 'pleasure' of encountering in the last few weeks.
But even in this sterily professional atmosphere, he sighted spots of bright, motley fur moving around between the trouser legs of his human co-workers. And suddenly, that entire assembly had lept into obscurity when it dawned upon him that the equines too had arrived.
They all came in simultaneously, probably carted here by the busload, either directly from the airport, or from wherever they were allowed to stay in the city. Like a mix between a group of sight-seeing tourists and a herd of goats, they flocked into the room, occupying the first two front rows before the podium, where they slumped down on the seats, unstoppingly babbling about things Estermann could not decipher. They all sat together too, seemingly separated from the human remainder of the room by an invisible fence. Apparently, being foreign dignitaries and guests of the court and all, they would have these seats reserved especially for them, but they were like a microcosm inside a bigger microcosm. The assembled humans didn't help the situation either as they - Estermann noticed - picked seats from which they could enjoy the show from afar.
It took him only a few more seconds to divert his eyes to the podium up front, where he spotted his friend Colm taking a seat, accompanied by his very own entourage. Behind the Irish jurist, the green mare from last night's dinner slumped on one of the chairs to his left, once again with masterfully refined clumsiness. Actually, it impressed Estermann to see that an equine could actually sit on a human chair, if only barely. Maybe the other equines also sat in front because they probably couldn't possibly see anything from the back.
Then an elderly black lady with short dark-grey hair took seat between the judge and the magistrate pony. She was the head justice of the pre-trial chamber in this case - a Ugandan-born, British-educated jurisprudent, and her name was Jessica Suruma. While not the most famed or renowned judge, she herself had garnered quite a repertoire when judging over a couple of individuals from Sudan, Lybia and Syria.
If one word was needed to describe her, it had to be 'fair'. Despite being the type of person that was apt in making judging and often only vaguely subtle remarks about people she just met, she was all the more cautious when making formal decisions - making her remarkably deliberate and slow when felling judgements with any actual gravity. And when she did, it did sometimes seem like she decided on the flip of a coin rather than on an intricate conviction.
She was perhaps the perfect example of a somewhat loudmouthed person with a hard, decisive crust but a soft, squeamish core. And yet, she was one chewy nut through and through - for all the trouble that was worth, that meant she was staunchly neutral. Too ambiguous, too detached, but neutral nevertheless. One could always rely on her inability to be affected by any personal preferences or agendas.
Whether or not that was a good thing was an issue for another day.
As these three judges had all taken the seats between the President of the Court and the Registrar, Estermann's mind automatically sprang into calculation mode.
First, he inspected Colm - the kind, good-natured features of a trusty friend in a judge's gown.
He counted him as a voice in his favour.
Then he spotted two large and sour eyes, their purple irises constricted, staring down at him from up there. The green pony they belonged to, still suffering from the 'horrible' putdown in front of her colleague, was glaring at Estermann from the podium like she had just noticed him, both shocked and disgusted at finding that human once again sharing the same space. She had probably hoped their paths wouldn't cross again. Estermann was secretly hoping just the same. 'Well let her stare, the stupid horse.' he told himself as he responded to her glare by nonchalantly looking through her.
No, he thought, he couldn't count on her voice for anything. Not that he ever could - she was little more than a puppet of her own masters. Though now, he could probably count on her even less.
Finally he let the featureless, mildly offish and bored face of the pale Ugandan gran in the middle sink in.
Nothing.
In this trial - so far his theory - he had a more or less precise fifty-fifty chance of losing, thanks to the horse on the board. If he wanted to get a first good impression for his mysterious client in the courtroom, he needed to focus on winning over Suruma to his cause. After all, Mullan's vote was already secured. Hopefully.
A tap on the microphone brought the excited atmosphere in the room to a grinding halt as everybody quickly resumed to their seats or standing in the back of the room. Journalists manned their cameras, civil servants emptied their suitcases on the desks, and the ponies looked up to their fellow equine and her human colleagues, with almost circus-like excitement.
The President of the Court, a Japanese fellow by the name of Takuma Yanagida, lifted himself and smiled amicably into the microphone before him.
"First, I would like to thank all of you for finding the time to attend this little get-together. I know it was rather short notice, but thanks to the flu raging in our offices, we had some logistical issues as of late. So, not to waste anymore of your time, I will pass on the word to Justice Suruma."
Clumsily, he moved his microphone, past the hooves of a mildly bewildered Lex Fori, over to the Ugandan Justice's seat.
"Thank you, Mr Yanagida." she began.
"Madames et Monsieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen... Fillies and Gentlecolts. First, I would like to point out that today is a fortunate day, seeing how all key people in this trial have decided to make it to The Hague in time. The defendant, Queen Chrysalis, is currently situated in the Detention Centre in Scheveningen, having only arrived a day ago. I am also happy to see the fellow justices, the Prosecutor, Ms Serafina Pierman, and the Head Defence Counsel, Mr Alexander Estermann all in attendance."
Estermann slowly rose from his seat, quickly putting down his tea cup and newspaper, and stood to attention for the justice. She nodded at him, and then at the prosecutor.
Secretively, he tried to espy said prosecutor from the corner of his eye. He had not actually met her yet, of all the people involved in this trial, personally.
She was the one who masterminded the warrant for Queen Chrysalis. She was the one who had first thought, 'Hey, wouldn't it be funny if we put that monster in front of the ICC? Wouldn't that be hilarious?!'
Estermann spotted her, standing up like him, amongst the sitting ponies. She was literally the only human to have chosen to do that.
She was a fairly attractive woman, a South African native. It made sense to Estermann - South Africans like her had their share of experience in oppression and tyranny; of course she would be interested in fighting it in all its forms. Discretely, she glanced over to him just as he looked at her. A flame of fervor was gleaming in her eyes, a beacon of conviction, of passionate determination.
Well, Estermann sighed, she was one of those people - the type that dried her hair with the power of love and quoted the meaning in life on her business cards. On the bright side, she would get along just dandy with all her new plaintiff pony friends.
"For those who are new to the proceedings, let me summarise our current situation." Suruma continued.
"Mr Mullan, Ms Fori and I make up the judge panel of the pre-trial chamber. It is our duty to determine, with the help of the Prosecutor's Office, whether the charges against Queen Chrysalis are legitimate, and whether they can be brought before this court."
She lowered her eyes unto a piece of paper. "In Ms Pierman's words, Chrysalis the Queen of Changelings, is charged with mongering a war of aggression, initiating campaigns of genocide, conducting slave labour, holding prisoners in inhumane cond-"
The pony to her left whispered something into her ear.
"Yes, sure. Insapient conditions, naturally, and practicing insitutionalised speciesism and apartheid, and... invading the sanctity of the mind. The last addendum is new - you should find an annotation on the information leaflets you have received."
She looked up again.
"Seeing how the pre-trial period is dedicated to verification through collecting evidence, investigators are currently working on Equestrian territory. They are searching for witnesses and pieces of evidence that support the Office of the Prosecutor's claims, as well es indications that defy them."
Looking a little perplexed, she then proceded to shuffle several pieces of paper around her table. "However, here we have hit another snag with which we haven't quite found a way to deal with yet. As of this moment, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings is and remains the only... reachable member of her government, armed forces... or species."
There were some strange looks towards the judges. Even Estermann couldn't quite understand what she meant.
What, did no one bother to answer the phone back in her kingdom?
"It appears as if the remaining Changelings of Northern Equestria..." Suruma continued explaining, "...have largely gone into hiding. They have cut all ties they may have had to the outside world. They have abandoned many of the places they have been previously known to inhabit or occupy, taking all traces of society with them to unknown locations. Investigators have been dispatches to investigate marked sites. Most have returned empty-handed, while some others seemingly came under attack by unknown hostile forces, and were possibly even abducted. We have no information about either their whereabouts, nor about those of the attackers."
A collective uttering went through the room.
What a mess. How could a whole region - an entire nation! - go dark just like that? Their habitat must have been much smaller and isolated than he had first thought. Perhaps, if they were living in some sort of snowy tundra or highland region beyond any semblance of civilisation, that could have explained a lot.
Just like the Russian Empire, which resorted to abandoning and burning their own cities in the middle of deepest winter, just to grind down Napoleon's advance, the Changelings had reacted to the capturing of their leader by packing their things and retreating into the unknown, delving underground.
While it was certainly an uncomfortable situation and obstructed the Prosecutor's process, it was nothing that he or his mysterious defendant really had to worry about. Dr Suruma explained it rather well herself...
"I don't have to mention that this trial cannot proceed without sufficient and detailed information on Changeling state, structure and situation, or eyewitness accounts of the same. The Equestrian government has ensured us all necessary assistance in tracking down and contacting - or, should necessity arise, arresting - Changeling authorities, but there has been little progess so far. That said, the investigation continues as we speak. In case that no progress is achieved in the following weeks, or the danger for our Court associates continues to persist, the investigation may have to be adjourned until further notice."
Amidst the nervous hustle of a hundred whispering voices, a subtle smugness crossed the lean defence attoreney's lips.
'And so', he thought to himself, 'the court already straddles under the weight of their own self-imposed Equestrian burden. Now, I don't mean to brag, but wasn't I right about this all along?'
"This brings me to the defence. Herr Estermann?"
Estermann looked up abruptly.
"Come over, please. I need to show you something."
Quickly, Estermann skipped over to the justice at the podium, gleefully ignoring the intrusive gaze of the spiteful pony justice next to him.
"Good morning, M'am. Also good morning to you, Mr Mullan."
Colm winked and nodded his head, and his Ugandan colleague leaned over and pushed a staple of paper into his hand.
"Mr Estermann, let me use this occasion to introduce the other members of the defence team. Think of it as choosing your team in sports class."
Assuming the stern look of a classroom teacher, she leaned over the papers and nudged her glasses as she read out some of the names. "Garibaldi, Filippo, assistant counsel. Armour, Shining, security consultant. Van Biene, Antje, psychological analysis. Heartstrings, Lyra, cultural advice. Wouters, Nicolas, medical supervision and support."
She hesitated, "No... forget Wouters for now. He is in hospital, ever since that incident on the airfield yesterday. His replacement is still pending. I'd suggest you use the time after this meeting to review the state of your client, Chrysalis. She is in a very... awkward position right now. The Dutch Public Prosecution Service considers charging her with assault, battery and attempted manslaughter. The United States JAG Corps tinkers with the idea of doing the same."
"Ah. Thanks." Estermann winced. Not only was the ICC, the UN and half of Equestria after her now, but the Dutch and Americans as well? Truly, Queen Chrysalis had the gift of making friends wherever she went.
The judge pointed into the crowd behind him.
"Shining Armour is the white unicorn stallion front row left, in that red uniform. Take him along on your way to Belgisch Park. Dr Van Biene has a session with your client as we speak; see that you can catch up with her. Garibaldi phoned in from Lyon, he'll arrive later today with the 15:30 express. Take care of Queen Chrysalis, Mr Estermann. Don't let this brief setback fool you; the defence is lagging behind in preparation, and the first hearings will be taking place at the end of this month."
"Obviously, I wouldn't be here otherwise." he answered. "I was... I was looking forward to see her."
"No doubt you did, my learned friend.“ Ugandan gran snarked, "But enough time has been spent with doing nothing. Now take care of your precious fosterlings. That's all for now, Mr Estermann."
And suddenly, Estermann realised he didn't like her. But he had to prevail. He returned to his seat just as he caught a glimpse of the head justice ushering Pierman over next.
Quickly, he drowned the rest of his lukewarm tea with one gulp and started looking around, hoping to catch to see the expecting eyes of persons who were expecting him to jump into action. The white unicorn in the front row still looked forward bluntly. Estermann couldn't make out whether he was looking at the judges or out the big windows, but in any case it meant that the horse's mind wasn't occupied with him.
Estermann leaned back and closed his eyes, glad he could still take a minute or two of breathing time without any human or horse wanting something from him.
At some point, the exasperated lawyer felt something round and hard touching his shoulder. He immediately flinched and looked around.
Damn it, his feelings of calm and serenity had stabbed him in the back again!
A hoof was tapping him from behind. He traced it back to a virtually beaming aqua pony standing at attention behind him. In fact, she was aqua all over. Her coat was aqua, her scruffy mane was aqua, her tail was aqua, her horn was aqua. Her eyes were amber, though. Which made her giddy stare even more uncomfortable.
"H-hi..." she mouthed.
Estermann shook her hoof off his shoulder discretely, and looked around, unsure how to respond.
"H-hi... hi... hi..." the equine repeated, acting neglected.
"What?" Estermann hissed as he struck out his hand, as if ready to fend her off with it.
"I... uhm..." she stuttered.
But then she quickly drifted off into some state of bliss, and reached for the lawyer's hand.
He quickly pullet it beyond her grasp before continuing.
"What do you want? Who are you?!"
She snapped out of it and laughed uncomfortably.
"Oopsie daisy. Sorry, I just got distracted by... well..." she glanced at his hands again.
Estermann quickly folded them and turned towards the bailiffs standing guard at the doors.
"You! Excuse me!"
"No no, you don't understand." the mare immediately squawked, pouncing upon him with both forehooves.
"I'm Lyra. I'm Lyra. You get?"
"No!” he hissed, terrified by the intrusion. “Let me go or I will call security."
She obeyed and breathed distressedly.
"I'm Lyra Heartstrings. You know, your Equestria expert?"
Estermann stumbled upon his own words upon hearing that. Hadn't Suruma just mentioned her?
"Equestria expert? What? You?" he repeated doubtfully.
"Aha." Lyra confirmed. "It's just... For a moment, I was just so distracted by your... humanities, that I totally forgot what I actually wanted to say."
'Humanities?' the jurist thought.
"I... I hope I'm not sounding too hobnob when I say you possibly have the most slender and elegant fingers I have seen in my entire life." she stuttered meekly. “I can't just trot past you and let that go unnoticed...”
“...Th... thanks?”
Estermann looked left and right uncertainly. Then he dubiously scrutinised her hope-stricken smile. "... Are you sure you work here?"
"Sure? But of course. I am here by royal decree, after all."
She took a moment to look up to the ceiling sentimentally and mouth something along the lines of 'Thank you!'
She continued, "And I feel even surer alongside your steady hands! If you have any questions or unsure-isms about my country, just ask me. I bet I can answer you anything."
"Oh, that is good, I think." Estermann slurred and looked over to the prosecutor, who was still conversing with the Ugandan justice. "Look. If you're really want to work in the ICC, why don't you pop over to the prosecutor and lend her a hand? I have no questions worth asking you right now."
"...lend her a..."
The mare seemed lost in thought for a moment, but then she aptly forced herself out of it again."But... but the boss said I'm sticking with you."
"What boss?"
“Uh, President Wut's-his-name...”
“Yanagida?” the lawyer reminded her, before stopping. "Wait a minute. Did you say he said you'll stick with me? Permanently?"
"That's right.." she answered with a pleased smile.
"Missy, I am the defence council. I tell you, the pony ranch is over there with Ms Prosecutor." He pointed into the pony-dominated corner with Pierman's seat.
"Yeah, but they already have plenty of experts. All of them Equestrians like me, all eager to to their bits. But I have noticed that you don't have any. So Mr... Wut's-his-name said I'm now part of the defence team.”
She nudged him enthusiastically. "We're teamsters, Mr E!"
Estermann squeezed his eyes.
"You're a pony."
The aqua pony just sighed and nodded her head, with a hint of melancholy.
"Yeah. No need to remind me of that."
"Let me enunciate this for you: This is the defence for Queen Chrysalis. Unless you have something to say in favour of her, I suggest that you stick with the prosecution, because I don't need any neigh-sayers at the moment."
"But I'm not a... I mean... I am a not-neigh-sayer.” She seemed to steer her ship very carefully this time... “Plus, I can be your very own Equestrian connection! How can't I be of use? Who will answer all the questions you have about my homeland if I wasn't there?"
"Alright."
The lawyer scrutinised her with slitted eyes.
"Tell me this: What is... the capital of your nation's second-lowest income region?" he quickly spurted out and cocked his head smugly.
"Do you... mean the biggest urban centre, Dodge Junction, or the governor's seat, Las Pegasus?" came an equally fast reply.
"I..." Estermann had no answer. "Alright. Fair enough. Evidently, you know your stuff."
"I know!" the mare squeed enthusiastically. "Though... I always want to know more about... not-my-stuff things..." she added absent-mindedly.
Estermann noticed her glance once more slipping into the vicinity of his hands.
"My eyes are up here."
She looked up.
"My point is, you can't do anything right now that a human professional from an Institute of Ethnology couldn't do for me. What I am interested in at the moment are hard facts about the state of your country."
"A human expert?” She almost wanted to 'pffft' at that, but forcibly restrained herself at the last second. “I mean, sure, yeah, she might make you 'know' Equestria - but I can make you feel Equestria."
The lawyer rolled his eyes.
"You came to the wrong person for that."
But she was from giving up yet.
"I... I can even do other stuff if you want to."
"Like what? Sorting files? Typing reports? You need hands for that sort of thing, darling.”
"I know that!" she huffed bitterly.
"I mean, technically, you couldn't even bring me a cup of coffee. So go and-"
Her eyes suddenly lit up once again.
"That, I can do!"
"No, you can't!"
"Yes I can! That's a cakewalk! Any foal can make... 'coffee'! It's like tea, only with a C and an F."
"'Bringing' coffee, you can't! No hands." he breathed, exasperated.
She raised a hoof to his face.
"Say no more."
And with those words, she rushed past the guarded doors and out of the meeting room.
Other listeners turned around and caught at the aqua blur fleeing the scene. Then they looked at Estermann, trying to deduce what the hell had just happened.
Estermann himself wasn't so sure.
Where had she suddenly gone to? The whole thing had been so abrupt.
But now that it was over, he just hoped she would stay away.
That creature was, in some respects, just like those certain friends' friends one would meet at parties, and would generally try to avoid meeting ever again; obnoxious, overzealous and constantly under the wrong impression.
And even if she had been just swell and a pleasant character - something that Estermann dared to call into question with any pony - he honestly would not want any equines to be part of the defence team.
And even if she was really knowledgeable about the Equestrian lifestyle, even if she had good and helpful connections on Equestrian soil... he would not want an equine on his defence team.
It was the equivalent of employing a communist to defend a fascist in court.
Estermann had already experienced first-hand the other evening how potentially destructive it could be to have an overzealous pony in the judge panel. He could only shiver at the thought about the destructiveness of a pony actively participating in the Queen of Changelings' legal backfield.
And apart from that... he was almost certain he wouldn't be able to conduct quality teamwork with horses. Even less so than with regular humans.
Stuffing the pancakes down his throat and jamming the badly folded newspaper into his suitcase, he made ready to depart from the conference so he could finally get to meet his notorious client in her prison cell, just as the head justice had ordered him to.
Now he only had to collect that unicorn 'security specialist' up front...
He could swear his head had begun to hurt from the sheer amount of ponies he had to become involved with in this trial.
The drive through Scheveningen was short and painful.
Estermann had hailed a taxi SUV in front of the building, to ensure that both he and the white unicorn in the red coat had plenty of space for themselves.
The lawyer looked out the car window. The sky was still white, blank, with a slight rain dripping down from above, and almost no people walked around by the streets of the usually idyllic suburb of Scheveningen, filled with lush parks, athletic grounds, broad and smoothly cobble-stoned promenades, brick-red barrack buildings, community centres, consulates, embassies, and headquarters of various international and multilateral organisations.
But now, in early winter, it seemed more like an assortment of balding trees hidden behind iron fences, desolate and lifeless public places and dreary brick housing estates dotting the pale horizon, all passing nonchalantly by on the sides of the road. The fact that it was Monday, basically the third day of the weekend in the Netherlands, didn't exactly help either.
Just as Estermann began to wonder what all the locals were thinking - how they could live on their lives in the most empty and dull ways, even though now they had magical, mystical talking ponies, literally living next-door - his taxi turned at a junction, revealing quite a commotion acting out along the fence of the ICC premises...
Dozens upon dozens of protesters clad in hoodies or tracksuits, clinging on to the three-metre security fences, clogging the drowning sidewalks, climbing up the boulevard trees, and spontaneously running out onto the street, shouting slogans over the sound of the rain, and swinging banners, posters and flags at the passing cars, like hooligans after a won football game. One of the banners showed a white unicorn, probably taken from some country's coat of arms, pinned to the ground by a golden chain around her neck.
Estermann chose to ignore the excited young delinquents as soon as began spotting the odd bald shaven head, bomber jacket and jackboot among them, swinging Dutch flags, black banners, and even a solitary celtic motive. As the car drove on down the road, half a dozen police cars rushed by on the opposite carriageway, with lights flashing and sirens wailing.
Just like the nearly-smashed window over at Colm's home proved, some people did mind. These fringe groups demonstrating their contempt of the notion of having to share the top the food chain alongside horses were becoming more radical and disconcerting with every passing day. Earlier that week, they had clashed with pro-pony activists in Austria, and two were clubbed to death.
Estermann didn't want to say he harboured sympathy for their cause. He really didn't. But he could not help but understand their grievances. Equestria simply wasn't a very easy notion to take for granted after 40,000 years of equines having contributed nothing to the world's image other than transporting freight and making terribly good sausage dishes.
And yet, at the end of the day, it all boiled down to a group of deluded ultra-conservatives and reactionaries shirking from an inevitable, fast-approaching future.
The unicorn in the red jacket who sat across from him minded none of it, having been almost completely silent for the majority of the journey.
Apart from some glassy looks at Estermann, he seemed like a dreamer - deadpan and uninvolved.
Estermann was astounded to see one of those horses having absolutely nothing to say or contribute. It made a rather welcome change. But even then, it was an indescribably awkward situation of having to sit across from such a sturdy, muscular stallion, lying on the bench across from him, occasionally looking at him, then out the windows, then into thin air.
The lawyer wondered what the exact reason for this silence was. The equine looked - or, more appropriately - felt nervous and tensed up.
Did it have something to do with his assignment? Did it have something to do with the Queen?
Though, admittedly, Estermann would have been just as nervous, after the news of her dismembering and scorching guards left and right during a comparatively minor escape attempt. Incidents like these usually didn't serve to heighten the spirit or the renown of security consultants that were in charge.
For a change, it was Estermann who began the conversation.
"I don't think I even know your name yet."
This didn't provoke any response from the white stallion but a trivial flick of his ear.
"Hello? Can you understand me?"
The creature's eyes focused and he blinked. Then he looked at the human lawyer.
"Do I? I mean, of course. Yeah. Of course I do. Do you?"
The lawyer sighed.
"You're my security consultant, right?"
"Yes..." the creature answered, his voice unsettlingly downbeat.
"I suppose I am."
"What's your name?" he asked once more.
"Shining Armour, Captain of the Royal Guard. At your service." he answered. Yet, his voice credited his words little.
"Alright, Captain. Do you know what happened yesterday? The newspaper reports are not exactly enlightening."
The unicorn sighed and looked out the windows.
"She tried to flee from the plane."
"Who? Queen Chrysalis?"
He nodded hesitantly.
"Well, what happened then?"
"We tried to stop her."
Estermann's eyebrows raised.
"Wait... Were you there?"
He didn't answer.
"How the hell could you let that happen? You're the so-called security expert around here."
Shining winced painfully. His gaze slipped to the floor.
Apparently, he was very well aware that it was his fault.
Estermann wondered whether he shouldn't have pushed that topic too hard. But he chose to stand by his rebuke. Maybe it was just his own sense of self-preservation kicking in; he didn't want to be trapped in a room with a potentially rampant creature that could attack and viciously mutilate him. The problem was... neither did the Captain, apparently.
"How..." the stallion began suddenly.
"What?"
"How... much... did the newspapers say? About the incident, I mean?"
"Well..." Estermann stuttered,
"Nothing, obviously. The police is keeping ut under wraps until everything has been cleared up. Not that this will last long..."
"But... long enough?" the Captain made sure meekly.
"Why? Is there more to it?" Estermann asked.
The stallion shrunk back a fraction of an inch.
"Did you do something there?"
"I... no... no. Not really." Shining Armour stammered immediately.
"Well you better damn well do something the next time a thing like this happens." Estermann demanded haughtily.
Were those Equestria's Finest? Not only can't they restrain a single creature, but they cannot track down a whole nation either?
But Shining Armour stuttered on, oblivious to the human's remark.
"I just... I..."
Estermann quieted down and looked at him.
"You... what?"
"I... nearly... allowed her..." he cut himself off when he bit his lip with his big pony teeth. Then he looked Estermann in the eyes nervously. He even bobbed his head forward a bit, as if he was calling for discretion.
Estermann felt that something very desperate was blooming inside the Captain. His face gave way to some concern.
"Sir... I have to ask you. Don't tell the Princess, don't tell Cadence, and don't tell Twilight."
The lawyer stared at him confusedly. He had absolutely no idea what the pony was on about.
"Who?! Tell what?"
"Princess..."
The car traversed a road bump and cut him short.
Queen Chrysalis,... she h-"
Before he could end his sentence, the car halted.
A gloved fist knocked on the driver's door.
"Marechaussee. ID-kaarten, alstublieft."
Estermann tried to espy the commotion outside his window, but turned back to the confused Captain once more.
"This better be good, Captain. Why don't you tell me some other time?"
Then two dark figures in blue berets stepped in front of the lawyer's car door and he lowered the window.
"What is it?"
"Marechaussee. Your IDs and permits, please."
They had arrived in front of the prison gates of Scheveningen's ICC detention wing. The whole area had been cordoned off with heightened security, as evidenced by a young officer with a shouldered submachine gun moving a small mirror on a pole with wheels back and forth underneath the taxi.
The gendarme collected Estermann's credentials and then looked over to the forlorn unicorn.
"Papers please."
The equine Captain gasped, as he vainly frisked his pocket-less jacket for identifications with his hooves.
"Sweet Celestia... I... uh... I must have..."
Estermann jumped in on his behalf.
"Do you really think he needs an ID? I mean, how many blue-haired talking unicorn stallions does your guest list cover?"
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Well, if anything, Estermann is pretty damn serious about this. On the other, he's an arrogant jerk, although considering the sheer lack of professionalism these ponies have, I think even Phoenix Wright would be annoyed.
Both when it comes to Lexy and Lyra, on the root of the issue I tend to agree with his assessments. Strong pre-determined bias and complete lack of pertinent knowledge on Lexy's part and zaniness on Lyra's to the point where it makes both utterly unreliable are not a good thing for his defense case.
vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/conworld/images/5/52/Glorious_Arstotzka.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130911032357
6575736 glory to arstozka
5355961
I happen to agree the fact that is stated.
I also believe the ponies harbour resentment towards the changelings because they be black but that's besides the point.
God damn? Whats up with SA? Not his fault that other fools thought they were above magic and fangs... God imagine what happend if Chrysalis knew what guns were and how they worked?
Oh Fanon!Lyra...
Never change.
lagging
I feel this Estermann guy is being forced as the antagonist. He feels strawmannish, and everything is being carefully managed to reinforce this.
Why doesn't Equestria have defence attourneys or advocates? Is there no formal method for training legal experts and judges?
Why is Lyra acting like such a goofball?
Why is Shining Armour acting so Out Of Character? Notice that he was conveniently interrupte before he could explain what went on, and maybe educate Estermann in the realities of things.
7611189
Second near posession of his mind? Hello? You wouldn't feel guilty and useless if that happened to you, right?
8866007
Who would WANT to defend Chrysalis? I mean, whole of Equestria had gotten a facefull of what this Queen is. Do YOU want to represent Hitler, and be his DEFENCE?