The final interview from the review board concerning her tour at Mecas River City came to an abrupt yet pointed end. Their consultation hastily turned into an interrogation concerning the renegade warlock, a brand thanks to the consul and his propaganda machine. Her rising ire never broke through her calm demeanor, hidden well beneath the poised elegance. Meristal disavowed any knowledge of his whereabouts, and when the committee realized they’d get no useful intelligence from her, they expeditiously slapped her with another tour, this time even further away from home. With a pristine smile, she gathered her belongings, politely rejected their offer, informed them of her immediate retirement, and left them slack-jawed. Turning on her heel, she left them fumbling for words.

The chamber was devoid other than the interviewers, the exit sloping up between the dark, wood benches. The white walls were startling bright without so many people in the chambers. Though empty, Kayis Dathyr’s shadow loomed like a dark phantom over the proceedings. Undoubtedly, he didn’t want any more witnesses to his abuse of power than necessary. In truth, he probably didn’t care about Judas’s current location, but it was one more way for the consul to exert his influence over those under him. As an exile, Judas remained a matter of the Republic, not a personal matter for the agents of the city and justice system.

Meristal walked out of the chambers, and for the first time in her life, had no place to be. She stopped and inhaled, feeling a burden lifting. Two guards in full ceremonial dress stood holding the door ajar, waiting for her to set off. Their magnificent, gleaming black plate armor captured the light and reflected it. Narrow, refined silver outlined their breastplates, pauldrons, and greaves. Long, black polearms with silver blades were gripped in their right, vise-like hands. White ceremonial under-robes shown in the separation of plates and silver cloaks hung from their shoulders. This part of the castle was off limits to the public, and sentinels quickly apprehended those without an escort. Without a further word, she started off, her two shadows moving in concert.

Feels like a prisoner retinue to a cozy cell more than a chaperon, Meristal surmised.

The small off-white tiles covered the floor in the Hall of Justice, a new segment of arranged courtrooms in a side by side fashion. Courtrooms closest to the entrance of the wing were for matters of the capital, the mid-courts for affairs of the realm—the surrounding land outside the city such as small villages and towns, their presence omitted on maps. The domain courts came next; those meant to govern all cities and lands extending beyond Ralloc and its immediate realm. Their jurisdiction went as far south as the Corridor of Cruelty to the Golden City in the east. This court didn’t govern the elyves living to the north-east, deep inside the Vikal Mountains. The last door—the one she exited—belonged to the largest courtroom, the government’s Kothlere Court which trumped all other courts and the highest anyone could climb in legal proceedings. Only a pardon by the consul or the Kothlere Council overturned this court’s decision. Meristal had spent a lot of years defending her clients and Judas in there. His multiple appeals had been arraigned and denied within.

There’s a lot of history here, history I’m giving up.

It didn’t bother her as much as she thought, walking away for the last time. History may be in the past, but it was once the destination of the present that mattered. It’d always be a part of her.

Commissioned after the courts had outgrown the old wing, the Hall of Justice was built in the last three ages; the rock was different than the older parts of the palace. The architects tried to match the color as best as they could, the stone, a slight variant of a darker grade than the castle proper, but indiscernible during overcast days. The original exterior, built long before they perfected their craft, was cobbled together from rocks. As the years progressed and expansions made, the stones changed to brick, like this newest wing.

The interior was molded with exquisite care using serpentine stone, giving way between a black-to-green throughout the segments, a dramatic contrast to the bordering off-white tiles, which helped relieve the dark gloom and doubled as a reoccurring color scheme. Numerous torches helped combat the shadow. Darkness encroached this particular passageway; no windows graced this segment, but Meristal didn’t know if this was due to an oversight while designing or intentional. Did windows signify freedom and solid walls foreshadow guilt and imprisonment?

Meristal and her troupe moved toward the intersection leading to other parts of the castle. Royal Guards stationed at the sides of each double door for the courts snapped to attention as she approached and reset as they passed. The color of their armor marked the biggest difference between the two. Her chaperon, clad in black, signified ceremonial dress. Royal Guards wore phthalo blue in its place. The ceremonial sentries guarded the Kothlere Council, the consul’s private office, and the Kothlere Court. All other posts and positions were regulated to the Royal Guards.

Her eyes slid to a door as she walked. Blooded-ebony adorned the doors, a dense, hard wood, black to the core with stripes of dark red through the heartwood. Small, chiseled squares gilded in gold gave the door texture. The doorknobs themselves made of magically-enhanced gold, strengthening the soft metal.

Only the best for the Kothlere Order, Meristal noted.

She could almost hear Judas’s biting comments on the matter. He’d roll his eyes in disgust and bitch about the waste of resources for the sake of vanity.

Still, not as bad as the council’s chambers, she amended.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Her strides lengthened, the pace brisk, wanting to put distance between her and the decision she made. Behind her, heavy footfalls echoed in the corridor, sharp clinks of metal striking metal accented each foreboding step.

Retirement felt good. The reality hit her; she was no longer a Grand Wizard of Law. True, no one could take the knowledge away from her, and she was still sharp when it came to matters of legislation, but she no longer worked for the realm of Ralloc. For the first time in a long time, she walked the halls of the Kothlus Castle unemployed with nowhere to be. Not entirely true, but a likable fiction. Judas needed her, and she’d be there to help.

The troupe came to an intersection of corridors, the floor shifting from serpentine stone to large white tiles checkered with a dark burnt-orange. She took a left, making her way towards the central passages. Without further need, the chaperon halted their escort.

In truth, she’d put retirement off for years; it was the thrill of seeking balance, justice. She’d made a lot of money, too, nearly five times her counterparts. There were two types of lawyers in Ralloc, government political and government directive. Both sounded identical, but they crossed blurred lines, the political side was geared towards being judges, mayors, and politicians, while directive was more for mastery of the law and was hired to be defendants of the people. The lawyers who prosecuted Judas at his citizenship trail aligned with the political party while she freelanced for a very specific clientele.

She was almost out of the front doors when someone shouted her name. Meristal turned to see a messenger bearing down on her. Once he came to a stop a few feet away, heaving, she held her hand out to cut him off.

“I’m retired. Find someone else.” A sense of vitality washed over her upon uttering the words.

“I can’t,” he said through gasps of breath. “This person sent me to you and said he was part of your very specific clientele. He wouldn’t give his name, and he said to tell you, ‘I met a horse once who was smarter than his master.’ Do you recognize these words?”

Meristal nodded. She’d heard those words before, a long time ago, and only a few people were privy to them. The saying was made up during the Wizard’s War, which narrowed down the list of possible people who knew the phrase. Most were deceased, and Judas wasn’t in Ralloc as far as she knew. Still, intrigue captivated her. “Take me to him.”

The messenger led the way back into the castle, weaving through crowded corridors, past guarded doors, and up broad staircases. His pace lacked haste as he caught his breath. After a few flights of stairs and twist and turns, the messenger brought her to a door and stopped.

“He’s in there.”

Meristal reached out and opened the door, leaving the messenger to return to his duties. Her eyes narrowed in the dim light as she shut the door behind her. Her gaze wandered for a moment before falling upon the sole occupant of the room. He sat on a table on the far side in the room, shrouded in shadow.

“I met a horse once who was smarter than his master…” he said.

“…but unicorns were never meant to be ridden,” she finished the saying.

Out of the shadows, he came, a jovial smile illuminating his face. “Hello, beautiful!”

Meristal rushed across the room, crushing him in an embrace, smiling. “Daniel! It’s been too long! I haven’t seen you since the end of the war. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t allowed to leave your post?”

“Eh, I’m not, but who gives two shits what some lawyer says!”

“Hey! Language!” she said chided playfully. “And I’m a lawyer, remember?”

“You always acted like a prune, but I see through the ruse! Lawyer? I heard you retired?”

“Yes and no. Damn! News travels fast! I no longer work for the government, but I’ll take cases if I feel up to it, and I’m not near the prune as some of the citizens!”

He laughed. “And what does the legislation say about me being here in Ralloc?”

“You specifically? As what? The Heir of the Krey, or as Daniel the citizen? To be honest, nothing really, why?”

“I’m just trying to make sure I’m not breaking any serious laws by being here without a summon.”

“You came without being summoned? That could change things,” she intoned thoughtfully. “We’d have to look it up in the texts which could take hours. What is the heir doing in Ralloc if he isn’t summoned?”

“Well … I decided to plan and play war games with the erroneously overpaid jyneruls of the War Council, what-if scenarios and whatever else we can think of.”

“Well, if I made their kind of money, I’d never retire, either!”

“I thought you made a lot being an Advocate of Law?”

“Oh, I did, but the jyneruls make double what I did. Three ingots a month is ludicrous compared to my salary.”

“At least, you get paid. And when you won, the payout was substantial!” The heir smiled. “Enough about that, I need your help.”

“Gladly, anything for an old friend.”

“Anything huh?”

“I didn’t offer sex.”

“But you said anything…”

She smiled and rolled her eyes, a kiss of blush coming to her face. “Other than me having sex with you, sure,” she grinned. Daniel had always been this way: perverted, crass, funny, but clueless about women in general. It was part of his charm; enduring and funny, his humor attracted her, and his lifestyle without rules had appealing traits. He didn’t allow himself to be tied down and riddled with propriety or the dance between the two sexes.

“Don’t tell me you’re still pining for the warlock. Come live with me in the, mountains and I’ll make you happier than you’ve been in a long time. We’re getting too old to live life with wasted moments.”

Her eyes watered. “Are you done?” she spoke with a mild bite.

“Yeah, I’m done. I’d do anything to make you happy. I hope you know that.” He sighed, resigned.

“What exactly do you need help with?”

“I need to know if it’s against the law for me to be here in Ralloc without being summoned, or for my Krey to build defenses for a town.”

“I take it you already mobilized them.”

He nodded. “If it’s illegal, I need to know loopholes.”

“I’m sure I can find some. The one thing about the council, they always write loopholes in for themselves and never think someone else will actually use them.”