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GOD GUN
THE LAW [PART SIX]

THE LAW [PART SIX]

A ring of two keys is tossed towards Judge Murphy, the old man swiping them mid-flight.

“The room and storage locker numbers are on the keys.” Greyson informs. “And if you didn’t know sir, we’re using the Centralis standard radio frequencies.”

Judge Murphy quickly takes a glance at the issued arcane radio mounted on his uniform’s right shoulder, the singular orange circle on the rectangular device glowing a warm coloring in idleness. “I assume Federation standard police codes?”

“Yes sir.” Greyson smiles bluntly. “Though, I believe we can leave the briefing for tomorrow morning. I’d suggest you get some rest, the Governor's party is happening in four hours and will most likely last until morning.”

“Governor Newark’s hosting a party tonight for Murphy?” Hoppe pauses. “I didn’t know about this.”

“It was a personal invitation extended to Judge John Murphy.” Greyson informs with a hostile smile. “And I didn’t think you were interested in such events, Hoppe.”

“I’m not.” The woman responds as she returns to her desk, Judge Greyson watching as she resumes her work.

A sigh, the man turning towards his senior. “Forgive her sir, we had a ten-thirty-five last month that went… out of control. It’s difficult to maintain order here, we all had to make tough choices. As the book of Mar says, ‘to uphold order, there are always concessions.’”

“That it is.” Judge Murphy nods carefully, noting the poisoned words aimed directly at the counterpart not fifteen feet away.

“Well in any case, I hope you enjoy some of our amenities here in the building. Most of the Traveling Judges do end up stopping by here before entering the deep south.” Greyson continues warmly. “Food might be scarce with the leyline problems, but our people can serve a mean swill.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Judge Murphy attempts to reply.

“And I’ll come pick you up, so don’t worry about timing.”

“Oh you’re going with him?” Judge Hoppe notes from behind her desk, the clattering of mechanical keys stopping. “Again?”

“Well you know Governor Newark, he’s always nervous when newcomers are around. And don’t forget how vicious most of his guests are.”

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“Certainly.” Hoppe narrows her gaze as her eyes focus back to the outlined document. “Judge John Murphy, please remain vigilant. Anti-federation sentiment is quite large even at the highest levels of society here at March.”

“Don’t listen to her, that's an opinion unsupported by the available evidence.”

Judge Murphy ignores the man, a voice raised towards Hoppe. “What do you mean?”

Without looking up from the report template, Judge Hoppe explains. “The Federation officially dismantled the old nobility when they admitted the last imperial territories into the union. But they didn’t strip the families of their wealth, only their titles; supposedly in-order to placate them into not starting another resistance movement.”

“It's the rich and famous. Why would they even want to change the status quo anyway?” Greyson doubts.

“Well, after a few generations the title of ‘Duke’ and ‘Baron’ starts becoming much more attractive I suppose.” Hoppe theorizes. “I mean, Greyson, your lineage traces back all the way to Duke Jack Greyson the 3rd. You must have an opinion about this.”

“If you’re implying that I have any personal connection to the Greyson family living on 9th Avenue East, I don’t.” The Judge declares. “Under sub-section nine of regulation seven; judges of the Department of Justice Judges Division are forbidden from having any personal connections and engaging in civilian fraternization of any form. And if I even did have any blood relation to the Greyson family it’s likely from a distant branch.”

“Still, you have the blood of a Knight-General in your veins.” Hoppe presses with cold fact. “One of only two individuals who managed to conquer an Armin Collective District Capital throughout all of recorded history.”

“It’s all circumstantial evidence anyway.” Greyson counters the previous point. “Anti-federation sentiment’s only concentrated in the Old-City districts.”

“You’re right that it’s only circumstantial evidence.” Hoppe admits. “But the Newark Family was originally developed under Baron Jessica Newark, who ruled the old city districts of modern day March. Today, the Governor of the entire Principality is a direct descendant of her. The blood runs deep in the Southlands, despite the lack of title to go with it.”

Greyson coughs as he turns back to his senior comrade. “I believe Judge Hoppe has made her position clear.”

“I’ll take your words under advisement, thank you Judge.” Murphy respectfully bows. “I th…”

The radios on the shoulders of Judge Hoppe and Greyson springs to life with static, a transmission received and broadcast to a secure channel. “All judge points this is Dispatch, we have a ten-fifity-five in progress with P.D. on site at precinct forty seven, Ninth Avenue. Requesting one to reinforce.”

“I got this Hoppe. Get Judge Murphy signed into the network.” Running fingers through blonde hair, Judge Greyson sighs as he depresses the button upon the shape of the arcane item. “Dispatch this is Judge Greyson responding to a ten-fifty-five at the forty seven block, Ninth Avenue. ETA is thirty minutes.”

“Copy Greyson, advising Officers on-site.” The response comes with emotionless order, a background noise of indistinguishable voices stopped as the transmission ends.

“Duty calls sir.” A smile upon his face, the man turning towards Judge Murphy as he grabs a hung duster coat on the door. “I’ll be here to pick you up in the evening. Be ready for anything.”