The Doll looked like a person. She shouldn’t have been surprised by this, but the smoothness of its olive skin, the soft curl of dark locks of hair, and the expectant, almost curious look on its face sent a chill down Andrea’s back. Like she was the exquisite, incomprehensible being just entering its line of sight.

Strangely enough, the bright, inhuman yellow of its eyes calmed her down. Like sunlight in a bottle, the Doll’s eyes almost seemed to shine in the dim light of the tea room.

“I knew about it, but, somehow, it feels different staring at it,” she said.

The Doll, thankfully, didn’t blink in confusion or take a second to understand her words, like a person would. It simply nodded and explained: “Designed by Royal Decree of His Majesty. I hope their color puts you in a somewhat easier state of mind, Ma’am,” it rounded the small circular table, standing in front of her. “I believe a proper introduction is in order. I am one of His Majesty, King Alderbrand's Dolls. A pleasure”.

“Likewise. Although I wouldn’t say it necessarily eases my state of mind,” she found the energy to chuckle. “Perhaps it did serve its purpose, centuries ago, when all of your kind were walking amongst us and your bright colored eyes made it easier to distinguish you from the living, but nowadays? It’s kind of terrifying, actually”.

It nodded. “I understand. Sadly, there’s not much I can do about it. My maker’s design is, unfortunately, unchangeable. And I’m not sure it’d be proper otherwise. Altering the King’s mirrored image doesn’t sound… Very respectful”.

It stared at her down from his height. Which was a notable thing, considering Andrea had always been on the taller side, for a woman. At almost 1,90m, broad-shouldered and slim, yet well-built, Andrea could see the signs of an unassuming soldier’s form beneath its simple clothing. Its dark hair was, however, very long compared to modern army men’s shaved haircuts. The locks fell around its face and shoulders, a bigger portion of it tied behind its head. Its face was softer than she’d expected, with a tall nose and no scars, freckles, or signs of age.

There was this wicked, strangely alluring call, in the back of Andrea’s mind, to reach forward and touch the skin of its face. Would it be cold and hard, like metal, soft and warm, like a well-fitted cotton coat, or something else, completely different?

“Of course. You might want to brush up on recent events, however. King Alderbrand is no more, as I’m sure you’ve heard”.

It felt weird, to know that the face staring down at her had belonged to the man who had built the kingdom she called home. That she was, at this very moment, working to protect His flesh and blood from a gruesome ending.

The Doll’s face didn’t show any signs of pain or grief. “I’ve been informed. But His name is still the one holding the Crown,” it said. “So I presume we won. The enemy states wouldn't have preserved His name, lest as some sort of cruel joke”.

“We did. King Alderbrand’s army of Dolls did replenish the shadows from our borders,” and then you were all melted into nothing. “But I’m not here for a history lesson. We have work to do”.

It nodded once more. “I’ll follow your lead. Her Highness, The Princess, came by a few days ago. I’ve been told your word is their word, for the duration of this trial, so I shall obey whatever you see fit”.

You might just have been my first Royal client willing to listen.

The bit about the Princess showing up worried her, though. Ayla was, to put it simply, a very difficult person. She was known for meddling in state affairs. Kaneshiro joked that she had been born with an old soul - which, for royalty, simply meant she thought there were no such things as fundamental rights, constitutional guarantees, or any other form of checks and balances to protect a person from the overwhelming might of the King’s Crown.

“That’s lovely. Come sit with me”.

There was dust covering every single nook and cranny of the tea room, except for the table, which had been cleaned spotless and arranged in what Andrea could only presume was 6th-century customary etiquette.

“Have you been… Sitting here ever since your relocation?”.

“Yes. The view is quite dull, I’d say, but I have received no further orders to move”.

“Great. Well, for starters, my name is Andrea Valenti. I’m thirty-four years old, and I’ve been working as an attorney for the Royal Office of Law since graduating college,” she thought it made sense to start with the facts, as Dolls were designed to act by them. “I work with a small team, all very capable, and we’ve been assigned the task of proving that your actions - whichever they may have been - are not the fault of the Crown”.

“Naturally,” it answered. “If I may ask, what have been my actions?”.

“What do you mean?”.

“I mean I have no idea what is the reason for my preventive imprisonment. Not that it bothers me. If that was the law His Majesty designed, I shall happily abide by it”.

Andrea reached for the kettle. Drinking doll-made tea couldn’t be a worse idea than this whole thing already was.

“You mean no one has told you?”.

“Yes. I’ve been kept in the dark,” its face scrunched up, as if thinking, and Andrea felt the same chill down her back. “Quite literally. I awoke in the darkness of some damp place, and there was something awfully warm and sticky by my feet. Then there was screaming, and I woke up here, bound to this chair. Blessedly, they have since freed me from the ropes, by Her Highness's orders, but the questions remaining afloat in my mind have not been answered”.

Andrea poured the tea - Earl Gray, just her favorite - on the teacup by her side of the table and looked for the right words.

“You’ve been accused of murder. The place you woke up in, it was a family’s house. The Whitlock family. Ring any bells?”.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Murder?”

“The Whitocks. Did you know them?”.

It shook its head. “Not the ones at the house, no. But there were quite a few people named as such back in the war. Either someone fathered too many children, or they were orphans giving themselves a popular name”.

“Popular?”.

“Ma’am, did you say murder?”.

“Who was this popular Whitlock person?”.

“An actress. She starred in a play I did not see, but it helped lift the morale of the living soldiers. Something about a beautiful lady being rescued from a Shadow Nest”.

How did the kids not find anything about this?

“So you think people were naming themselves after an actress who played someone needing to be rescued?”.

“I am sorry, Ma’am. As I’ve said, I did not see the play myself. This is simply what my memories tell me”.

“It’s alright,” Andrea took a sip. Not overly sweet. Good. “And, yes. Murder. Eileen, the daughter of the family, was found dead at your feet the day you awoke”.

“But I was bound when I opened my eyes”.

“Yes, that is something we’re hoping to exploit. Anything else that you remember?”.

“I don’t believe I’ve killed this child you speak of, Ma’am”.

She stared at him. She’d seen quite her fair share of innocent-pleading murderers. There was no such a thing as a tell, nothing that could be so easily translated into body language. Murderers were born from all types of faces, genders, and backgrounds. They all had a myriad of motivations, and sometimes, no motivation at all. Andrea had quickly learned that trying to decipher them through some kind of ridiculous pseudoscience would render her no much brighter than all those women who wrote the celebrity-turned-psychopaths love letters and sent them to their jail's mailboxes.

And yet.

Nothing had shaken her quite like staring at the emotionless face of the Doll.

Pleading for its innocence wasn’t as much as a question of conscience for it. But simply stating what it believed to be the truth. If it did, instead, believe itself to be behind this murder, would its answer be just as tactless, devoid of feeling?

Yes. It would.

“Your innocence matters very little here. Dolls are… Well, you’re an object. Objects cannot commit murder. Had your intentions been discussed in court, I’d been quite the sight. A laughing trial, to be sure. But that is not the case. Whatever you did or did not do doesn’t matter. If you did kill the kid… Someone ordered you to”.

“I did not”.

“Which begs the question of who. Perhaps it was the Whitlocks themselves. Or whoever had possession of you at the moment of death. Dolls did have tutors, right?”.

“I… Yes. We were put under the tutelage of a senior soldier. Or a clockmaker, I believe. I never understood that”.

“Very well. Maybe it was your tutor. Do you remember who it was?”.

“Ms. Adelaide Roy. Captain of the Third Battalion of Central-West Command. But I spent most of my days with her son, Colin Roy. He was a… Foot soldier, as Her Highness called my guards at the door”.

“Perhaps there was a misunderstanding in her final orders. You could have been deactivated in the middle of battle and simply carried out her last command, blindly, as you awoke. Perhaps she put your mindless body, a war relic, under the care of someone who did wake you up, give you orders, and put you to sleep. We don’t know,” Andrea said. “All that matters is that the Crown did not do it”.

“So what are we saying? What is… Your argument, Ma’am?”.

“The most likely to not get us beheaded. That the Whitlocks did this to themselves by not turning you in when they should”.

There was a pause.

“We’re blaming them… For the death of their child?”.

Andrea took another sip. “I’ll make things clearer. There’s… A lot I haven’t told you, and I don’t believe you should be privy to all the details, but there’s a high possibility that His Majesty was deceived six years ago, by a request from his friend. He did something truly awful, and Eileen’s death has brought the truth forward,” she leaned closer to him. “You’re loyal to His Majesty, correct?”.

“Endlessly”.

“Then help me protect Him. You’ll be labeled a murderer, but I’ll not let anything fall on His shoulders. I’ll protect the Crown Family, as I’ve always done”.

And then you’ll be melted to nothing, like those before you.

“You’re… Their loyal subject, as well?”.

“I’m their attorney. A subject and a trained dog. I suppose you and I have that in common”.

The Doll dropped a sugar cube into its teacup and stirred, silently, for a second. Andrea noticed it hadn’t even touched anything on the table.

“Miss Valenti?”.

“Yes?”.

“Could you tell me something?”.

“... Depends on your question”.

It nodded, looking almost distracted. “This friend of the Crown that you speak of. Who are they?”.

“The Raverrank Family. I suppose they were quite famous back in your days as well”.

A beat of silence. “Yes. Quite so”.

“Then, I’ll be retelling the elements of this conversation to my team, and shortly, you’ll receive a summary of our argument, so you can be prepared to answer questions in court”.

The stirring stopped. The Doll raised its head to Andrea and spoke: “I’m afraid I cannot do that, as I shall not plead guilty in court, Ms. Valenti”.

“I beg your pardon?”.

“If His Majesty tells me to, I will, of course. But in the meanwhile, I’d like to propose another course of action”.

“Another course of action?” Andrea smiled, despite the anger brimming within. “You want to play pretend with my case?”.

“Far from it,” it stood, towering over her again. “It’s just that your words have reminded me of something”.

Andrea stood as well. They walked around the table to meet each other face-to-face once more. “What is this oh-so-very-important recollection, if I may ask?”.

“My… friend, Colin. I was reminded of him,” he stared at the window leading to the winter garden, overgrown, and forgotten, bindweeds growing along the glass and blocking most of the view. “I attended his wedding. I was his best man, in fact”.

Andrea waited for him. As the sun set outside, the branches over the window drew shadows on the Doll’s face.

“The bride’s father had passed away, a casualty in a shadow attack. His body was so mangled it’d been a closed casket burial. As she had no other male relatives…” it took a deep breath. “I walked Ms. Ravenrrank down the aisle”.

Andrea’s breath caught in her throat.

“I told you about my tutor’s lack of interest in me. I was much closer to Colin, and I believe she recognized it as well,” the Doll looked back at Andrea. “I was told I’d been a lovely wedding gift”.

Andrea rested the small of her back against the tea table, sighing. “I’m a person who hates changes, you should know. From now on, any bombastic revelations should be forwarded to me through a letter, first”.

The Doll’s face broke into a smile. It was nothing like the King’s, nothing like Ayla’s, or Alistair’s. Perhaps, King Alderbrand had been a kinder, much more unassuming figure than the tall tales of conquest painted him to be.

Because the Doll smiling at her looked like nothing but a hopeful young man.

“Understood, Ms. Valenti. I’ll try my best,” he said. “In exchange, please allow me to try and prove my innocence”.