NationStates Jolt Archive

Mustafa shrugged. "I could do it. I haven't been a heavy handed brute with her yet."

"OK." Renard nodded. "We'll stay here and watch. If that approach doesn't work, come out and we'll think up another one."

"Good luck, Ceren." added Romanoi. She left the observation room and an officer guided her to Euphémie's cell.

Ceren entered the cell and began talking to the terrorist.

Sebben, meanwhile, had landed in Marlund and was setting up operations at a secure facility.

"Does this girl know what she's doing?" Renard asked Romanoi as they watched on the monitor.

"Oh yes." Romanoi answered assuredly. "Ceren's wonderful."

"Agent Mustafa..." Renard clarified, the tone of his voice indicating mild bemusement. "...is then, in your professional opinion, extremely competent then?"

"Naturally!" Romanoi replied. "Whatever did you think I meant, detective?"

Ceren sat with Euphémie, smiling lightly. "I hear you're feeling better."

The woman looked up. "I am. For now. They're going to kill me, aren't they?"

Ceren opened her mouth and then closed it. "Well, no one's sure what will happen at court. It's before the Emperor, which is unusual."

"The Emperor of Pantocratoria?" Euphémie asked.

"What other Emperor would you expect?"

"Point. So..." The terrorist looked off a moment, scared.

"I'm sure your cooperation will be taken into account. It's not you we really want. It's Sebben. Don't you want to make him pay?" she asked.

"Yes! Yes, I do! The contact who handles the business with Marlund is Elizabeth Lorin. She'll know where he's staying!"

"And where could this Elizabeth Lorin be found?" Ceren asked.

"Well, all the mail was sent to Famhin, Corral."

When Mustafa had finished her interrogation and returned to the observation room, Romanoi was just getting off the phone. Renard was rewinding a tape of the interview to hand it over to the Crown Prosecutor, and left the VCR to do its work to congratulate Mustafa.

"Good work. Agent Romanoi is on the phone to his lot over in the IDIS, no doubt they'll be talking to the DBI about finding this Elizabeth Lorin." he said. "You did a good job."

If she was willing, he shook Mustafa's hand, and then looked over to the screen, where Euphémie could be seen in her cell. He shook his head.

"What a waste." he murmured. "She'll get the wheel probably. After the baby's born."

Romanoi finished his phone call and turned to the other two.

"The IDIS has told the DBI to look for Elizabeth Lorin. Find her, find Sebben." Romanoi said hopefully. "You did well, Ceren."

Ceren shook Renard's hand. "Thank you. It really wasn't much, not in her emotional state."

She grinned a little at the mention of the wheel. "She deserves it, I'd certainly say." Then she paused a moment. "I thought the UN didn't let you do things like that anymore?"

Ceren smiled to Romanoi. "Hopefully, she won't suspect anyone's looking for her. I wouldn't count on it though. She might well have gone into hiding as soon as she heard that Euphémie'd been captured and she might have heard that from any number of terrorist operatives who might have lost contact with the woman."

"The UN hasn't prohibited the death penalty. They stopped the thugs in the Ministry of Cultural Development from using torture, but they haven't banned the electric wheel." Renard said. He shook his head and issued a bemused snort. "Yet. Wouldn't surprise me if the UN banned the death penalty sooner or later."

"Let's hope the DBI can find her anyway." Romanoi nodded.

"Oh, the electric wheel?" Ceren laughed lightly. "I thought you meant the old fashioned kind."

The Turkish woman pondered a moment, her pretty face lost in concentration. "It wouldn't surprise me either. I don't know that much about United Nations politics however. Danaans tend to ignore it. Does it bother you, the way it just passes laws for your country like that?"

"Yeah." Renard nodded. "Although, I guess it depends on the law. Stopping MCD's old thugs from getting up to the sort of thing they used to get up to was good... but still, I think that we're the ones who should be passing our own laws. If Drapeur and those other politicians wanted to ban the death penalty, say, I'd think that was a bad idea, but at least it'd be our own parliament making the law, you know?"

"The UN does pass a lot of good laws for people in our line of work though, detective." Romanoi added.

"Oh definitely. But all that precious stuff about trials? And abortion? Come on, those would've never passed in Pantocratoria." Renard said.

"Maybe that's good though, maybe we'd be left behind if we were left to our own business." Romanoi replied.

"Left behind how?" Renard asked. "Oh, never mind. So, Agent Mustafa, do you think there's anything else we can get out of her to help the DBI look for her contact?"

Ceren shook her head. "Best we can do is sit here and wait." As though to prove her point, she settled into a chair and crossed her legs. "I feel I should tell you all that if Sebben is in Marlund before we find out where he is, the Danaan government is likely to go and get him."

Meanwhile, countless miles away in Famhin, law enforcement vehicles surrounded a small house, officers and agents pouring out with guns drawn. An older man with a megaphone yelled "Elizabeth Lorin! Come out with your hands up!"

There was no response. Two special operations men approached the door in body armor. One shot the lock off and the other kicked it open. They entered, guns drawn. "The entryway is clear!"

Ceren folded her hands together on the table. "This takes care of most of the work regarding the actual terrorist attack. Are the terrorists you have in custody so far also confessing to the murders?"

Danaan agents rushed through the house, eventually finding a woman trying to jump out the window, knocking her to the ground, and marching her off. One of them pulled his radio to his mouth. "Got her."

"We have three suspects in custody we like for the murders. They committed them together." said Renard. "Two of them have confessed, saying it's the will of God, that an angel told them to do it. Sounds like they're going for insanity. The other one, ex-army guy, has lawyered up and won't talk. He was the guy who said he saw that redcap we arrested for the murder of Elizabeth Brindingford. Strangely enough, we don't think he killed the girl, but he was involved in the rest of the murders. We still don't have a suspect for her murder, by the way - it might have been unrelated, although it seems doubtful. The rest of their cell doesn't seem to have had anything to do with the initial murders in New Rome."

Ceren paused. "Are you sure they don't really believe they were told by an angel?"

"Either way, it amounted to an insanity defence." Renard said with a characteristically French shrug of the shoulders.

Ceren pondered a moment, considering her reply. "I'm not so sure."

"A question for the lawyers." Renard nodded.

Ceren shrugged a little. "Waiting is always the worst part of this job." Romanoi nodded and sat down next to her, as Renard turned back to the monitor watching Euphemie. She folded her hands on the table. "How much sympathy do you think these bastards have?"

"Not a lot judging by what they did to their victims. The first one had been brutally beaten to death with a pipe and hung up by her tail... I had never seen anything like it. The bones in her arms and legs, her hips and shoulders, broken, one by one, systematically... methodical cruelty..." Renard said, shaking his head.

"Or do you mean sympathy with the public?" Romanoi asked.

"I meant with the public. Meaning no offense but...historically there have been times..." She trailed off, not sure of a polite way to ask the question.

"None." Renard snapped.

"Very little." Romanoi said.

Ceren nodded with a smile. "That's very good to hear."

"The trials in the Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator should eliminate public sympathy as a problem anyway..." Romanoi said.

"As problems as far as a conviction is concerned. We still tend to care what Pantocratorians think for other reasons, however."

"Who's we, the DBI?" asked Renard.

"Danaans."

"They don't have public sympathy, Pantocratoria is perfectly safe for Danaans now that
these murderous sons of bitches are in custody." Renard said.

Ceren smiled. "Good, good."

"I think I very much like this country."

"Stay for the trial and I'll show you more of it." Romanoi promised.

Ceren smiled a little flirtatiously. "I think I'd like that."

"Good!" replied Romanoi simply, smiling back.

"Even if I think I'd get more angry stares than your average Pooka would." She winked. Renard snorted and chuckled, turning away, and Romanoi simply winked back. Ceren laughed lightly.

The "court room" in the Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator was a huge pantobyzantine chamber. It was the Old Palace's secondary great hall (the primary original great hall now serving as the new great hall's antechamber), built in the reign of Demetrius I. It had served as the hall of the Grandmaster of the Order of the Pantocrator until Constantine XII provided them with a permanent home, and from that point on, it had served as the only court room in the Empire presided over by the Emperor himself. The first session of the Imperial Parliament had met here in 1672, presided over by Demetrius VIII ("the Fat"), and had never been in regular use since. It had never been redecorated by Manuel V, who built the Palais du Parlement for the Imperial Parliament, and his successors had left its décor untouched.

It retained its 16th century pantobyzantine decoration (which had likely replaced whatever sparse decoration the Knights of the Order of the Pantocrator had employed) - overhead was a glittering mosaic, a huge icon of Christ as Pantocrator, the all knowing, infinitely wise judge. On a dias, underneath a purple canopy, stood an imposing, uncomfortable looking throne behind a wooden bench, whose front was covered in a golden icon of St Constantine XI the Martyr. Flanking the canopied throne and bench were two sets of carved wooden benches, facing in towards the throne. In front of this dias was a wooden railing, carved with ornate patterns and words in Greek. The floor beyond the railing was laid with white tiles, hand-painted with the Cross of the Pantocratorian Crusade. Against the side wall, by the railing, stood an ornately carved witness box, complete with a chair, and a bench, on which sat a red leather bound Vulgate Bible on which oaths could be taken. Tables and chairs had been brought in and set up for the prosecution and defence teams, behind which more temporary railings separated the area at the front of the courtroom from the area reserved for spectators and journalists (for whom plenty of chairs were provided).

Varangian Guardsmen in full dress uniform stood at the doors, along the walls, by the railings, and on either side of the canopy. They were soon joined in the courtroom by the prosecution team, and then by the defence legal team. Then the spectators and journalists entered. They were followed by Messeigneurs de la Justice from the Serene Court, the six most senior judges in Pantocratoria. The elderly men wore rich red cloaks and long, white periwigs. They made their way up the aisle between the spectators, between the tables for each legal team, and through a little gate in the railing. They all bowed deferentially to the empty throne (a rather slow and difficult process for such old men), before dividing into two groups of three, and sitting down in each bench flanking the throne.

"All rise for His Most Catholic and Imperial Majesty Emperor Andreus of Pantocratoria, Autocrator of the Romans, Caesar Augustus, King of France and Navarre, Equal of the Apostles, God's Vicegerent on Earth, the King of Kings Ruling over Kings, who is the font of all justice and the direct vassal of Christ alone, who is the font of all wisdom, the doctor of the laws and judge from whom there can no appeal on this Earth, who shall now preside over this Court in the name of Christ Pantocrator." said the bailiff in a loud monotone, announcing the entrance of the presiding judge.

The Emperor entered into the courtroom wearing his full regalia, carrying an orb and wand. On his head was a formal wig, whose grey colour matched his beard perfectly, and on top of the wig was a heavy crown. On either side of this imposing figure stood pages, carrying fans of ostrich feathers. His long cloak was carried behind him by more pages as he made his way up the aisle between the standing (and bowing) spectators, through the gate of the outer rail, past the bowing lawyers, and then through the gate of the inner rail, where Messeigneurs de la Justice nodded their heads as the Emperor assumed the throne. He set the wand and the orb down on the bench in front of him, and then extended a gloved hand to a page, who handed him the gavel, which he in turn set down on the bench. When he was properly settled, he crossed himself before bowing his head in silent prayer. When he finished, he picked up the gavel and banged it once.

"The Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator is now in session!" announced the bailiff, and the lawyers and spectators took their seats. "Eric Benoit, Louis Picardie, Jean-Manuel Marly, and Euphémie Avenier, come into court!"

The defendants, the ring leaders of the terrorist cell in Pantocratoria, were led into the court in chains by the Varangian Guard. They were taken up the aisle, and brought before the unflinching gaze of the Emperor. Marly, quickly followed by Picardie, dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, and started begging for mercy. Benoit merely bowed as was appropriate.

"Silence!" scowled one of the Varangian Guardsmen to Picardie and Marly.

"Eric Benoit, you are charged with seven counts of murder, one count of grand conspiracy, and one count of perjury. How do you plead?" the bailiff asked.

"Not guilty on all counts!" Benoit said defiantly, looking up at the Emperor.

"Jean-Manuel Marly, you are charged with seven counts of murder, and two counts of grand conspiracy. How do you plead?" the bailiff asked.

"I'm innocent! I did the Lord's work!" Marly protested. "Please, Your Majesty!"

Marly's defence counsel rose in his place.

"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, if it please the court, my client pleads not guilty on all counts by reason of mental disease or defect." he said.

"Louis Picardie, you are charged with seven counts of murder, and two counts of grand conspiracy. How do you plead?" the bailiff asked.

"Not guilty, by reason of insanity." Picardie looked to his lawyer and nodded.

"Plea entered as not guilty on all counts by reason of mental disease or defect." said the bailiff. "Euphémie Avenier, you are charged with seven counts of conspiracy to commit murder, two counts of grand conspiracy, two counts of conspiracy to commit kidnapping of an officer of His Majesty's justice, and one count of fraud. How do you plead?"

The Emperor stared dispassionately at Euphémie, his penetrating gaze locking onto her eyes, as he awaited her response.

Euphémie bowed to the emperor with a slight smile. She smirked with faint contempt at the simpering pleading of two of her compatriots as she awaited her turn. "Your Majesty, I plead guilty to three counts of conspiracy to commit murder, not guilty to four counts of conspiracy to commit murder, guilty to two counts of grand conspiracy, not guilty to two counts of conspiracy to commit kidnapping of an officer of Your Majesty's justice, and guilty to one count of fraud."

"To which charges is the prisoner pleading not guilty?" the Emperor asked the bailiff. "Be specific in the reading of the murder charges."

"Euphémie Avenier you are charged with conspiring to murder Caraga Spelloyal, Àdoir nos Cirdan, Selina Ikari, Mademoiselle la Baronne de Zalar Breela ni Dougal, Chantelle Taringa, Galadry nos Felnon, and Angus McIron." read the bailiff. "On each count individually, how do you plead?"

The Emperor returned his dispassionate, penetrating gaze to Euphémie. Underneath his canopy of purple velvet, being fanned with ostrich feathers on the elevated dias, he looked down on the defendant, and couldn't help but reflect that she couldn't have been much older than his own daughters.

"I plead guilty to conspiracy to murder Lady Breela ni Dougal, Caraga Spellloyal, and Chantelle Taringa, Majesty." she responded.

"So noted." the bailiff nodded as the court recorders typed. "Will the defendants please take their seats?"

The Varangians helped them to their seats with their lawyers. The men had all hired their own counsels, and Euphémie's had been appointed by the court. Once they were seated, the bailiff moved off to the side again. At the prosecutor's table, Perot rose, bowed his head politely to the Emperor, and then began.

"Your Majesty, I am Jacques Perot, assistant to the Crown Prosecutor of New Rome, lead counsel for the prosecution if it please the court." Perot said, before taking his seat. The three defence counsels (Picardie and Marly were sharing a lawyer) rose to speak, bowing politely.

"Your Majesty, I am Louis Petain, counsel for the defence of Monsieur Benoit if it please the court."

"Your Majesty, I am Philippe Filbeau, lead counsel for the defence of Messieurs Picardie and Marly if it please the court."

"Your Majesty, if it please the court, I am Konstantinos Soissons, from the Office of the Public Defender, counsel for Mademoiselle Avenier."

The first few days of the prosecution's case mainly consisted of Renard testifying about Marly and Picardie's confessions, and of the testimony Romanoi and of already tried members of the cell naming Benoit, Marly and Picardie as the ring-leaders. Euphémie, under the alias Hélène-Marie, was named in Marly and Picardie's initial confessions. Neither man recanted their confession, they were rather relying on an insanity defence, and each man stipulated for the record that his confession was true. This essentially left Benoit up the river with his defence, but at this stage it was every man for himself. The resentment between the former partners in crime seethed in silence at the defence benches.

"Ceren Mustafa, come into court!" the bailiff commanded, and the Varangian Guard opened the doors of the courtroom for Agent Mustafa of the Danaan Bureau of Investigations to take the stand. Romanoi and Renard sat and watched from the seats behind the prosecutors. She was led up through the gates to the witness box, to some snickering from certain splendidly attired aristocrats in the audience. The bailiff picked up the Bible and placed it on the bench in front of her.

"Agent Mustafa, do you swear by the Four Evangelists to tell the truth without omission therefrom or addition thereto, so help you God?" the bailiff asked.

Euphémie sat with her lawyer when instructed to do so by the court. She folded her hands demurely in her lap and watched the proceedings with a face of remorse and immense sorrow.

Ceren entered the court with a direct, confident stride, curtseying to the Emperor. She was dressed in a somewhat toned down version of the dresses worn by courtiers in New Rome. There was a loose corset that was not shaping, exaggerated sleeves, and a slightly exaggerated body. The color was green with gold-colored lining (not actual cloth of gold). Ceren felt rather ridiculous in the thing. In fact, she assumed that's why some of the courtiers were snickering. She did not, however, glance either to the left or to the right as she approached.

Ceren put her hand on the Bible and raised her other hand, smiling at the thought of the Gospels. "I do."

"Agent Mustafa," started Perot as he rose from his seat and made his way over to the witness box. "You are the Danaan Bureau of Investigations agent who interrogated the defendant Mademoiselle Avenier along with Detective Renard of the New Rome Police Department and Agent Romanoi of the Imperial Domestic Intelligence Service, are you not?"

When she answered, he continued.

"Agent Mustafa, will you please describe the interrogation of Mademoiselle Avenier, that is to say, the whole process as you witnessed it, from when you first saw her in custody, to the point at which the interrogation was concluded and the case referred to the Crown Prosecutor?" he asked.

"Yes." Ceren answered the first question simply enough.

"Well, when I arrived, the defendant was in restraints and had waived her rights. However, she had not given any information whatever about her leader, Grand Duke Sebben ap Balor but had attempted to mask the role played by others. After some discussion, we identified this as a result of what can only be called brainwashing and also a certain degree of romantic attachment. Mademoiselle Avenier is carrying Sebben's child. You will forgive me, I hope, if I do not refer to a mass murderer by the terms his birth would ordinarily command."

She continued. "At any rate, it is relatively normal for Sebben to claim that any number of women are his 'wives' and install them as his lieutenants while personally ruling over them with rape, violence, and mind control techniques. The treatment which Mademoiselle Avenier received was, while horrible, comparatively mild, especially compared to the treatment of his first wife, Her Most Royal Highness, Beatrice ni Balor, Grand Duchess of Garmar...

"It was decided to bring in a professional deprogrammer to break her loyalty to Sebben. When that was done, it was decided that I, having been uninvolved in previous harsher methods of interrogation, should conduct an interrogation designed to bring out resentment of Sebben and correspondingly informaton which could be used against him. At this stage, the defendent expressed contrition for her own acts and intense hostility towards her former commander and provided us with necessary information."

"Agent Mustafa," continued Perot. "Did the defendant, Mademoiselle Avenier, make any specific confessions with regard to the specific charges against her?"

"Not during that interrogation, sir. At this time, her full written confession was already in the hands of law enforcement. She did not express any wish to retract any statement made in her written confession during interrogation, however."

"Your Majesty, the written confession to which the witness refers has been admitted into evidence as exhibit D1." Perot bowed to the Emperor, who nodded silently and was handed exhibit D1 by the court clerk. He looked it over, and nodded again for Perot to proceed.

"Thankyou, Mademoiselle Mustafa, I've no further questions." Perot said to Ceren, before returning to his table, nodding to the defence attorneys on the way. Konstantinos Soissons, Euphémie's defence attorney, rose and slowly made his way over to Ceren's box.

"Agent Mustafa," he began. "What, if any, is your religious affiliation?"

"I object, Your Majesty." Perot began, rising to his feet again.

"Your Majesty, goes to the character of the witness, and specifically, the reliability of testimony admitted under oath." Soissons explained.

Messeigneurs de la Justice of the Star Court, flanking the Emperor, conferred and then advised the Emperor as to the merits of the objection, all whispering conspiratorially. The Emperor nodded and looked over to Perot.

"Your objection is over-ruled, monsieur. Mademoiselle Mustafa, please answer the question." the Emperor directed.

Ceren smiled slightly. "Of course, Your Majesty." She turned back towards the defense attorney. "I am a member of the Church of Excalbia, sir."

"The Church of Excalbia..." repeated the defence attorney, taken aback. Underneath his purple canopy, the Emperor arched an eyebrow, the only outward sign of his amusement.

Soissons cleared his throat and made his way back to his desk to retrieve his copy of exhibit D1, before making his way, slowly, back to the witness box, as if buying for time to think of new questions.

"Erm, Agent... Mustafa..." he began slowly. Imagine a member of the Church of Excalbia named Mustafa! "When my client gave this so called written confession, it is your opinion she was still under the influence of Monsieur le Grand Duc Sebben ap Balor? You hadn't yet brought in the deprogrammer, after all... I'm curious then, if she was still emotionally under the control of this Sebben when she gave the confession and waived her right to counsel... why would you have assumed that after the deprogrammer, her right to legal counsel had in fact been waived? She was not mentally competent at the time she waived her rights and wrote this confession. Did you ask her to re-endorse this confession? Did you, or to your knowledge, did any of the other primary investigators, offer her a lawyer after she was... de-programmed?"

Ceren nodded. "Yes, at the time she wrote the confession she was under the emotional influence of Sebben. No one explicitly repeated to her her rights after she was deprogrammed, to my knowledge. However, she was still aware of them as they had been read to her earlier. Deprogramming did no harm to her memory. She did not choose to retract her early waiver. In addition, she did reaffirm her confession when she pled guilty to every charge explicitly confessed to in exhibit D1 before this court just now."

"She reaffirmed this confession, but did so without counsel. And by your own admission, nobody offered my client a lawyer after she was deprogrammed. Agent Mustafa, in your opinion, was my client mentally competent at the time she waived her right to counsel? You are, after all, the one who suggested she needed deprogramming..." Soissons asked.

Ceren smirked ever so faintly. "She just now, under your counsel, pled guilty to everything contained in the written confession. However, yes, I do consider her to have been competent to make a decision with regard to her own situation prior to the deprogramming."

"Of course the written confession is being used to support the other charges though, Agent Mustafa. Or is it your opinion that it does nothing of the kind?" Soissons asked. "And as for the issue of my client's competency, you are saying that she was competent to waive counsel before deprogramming, but not competent enough for the purposes of your investigation? Isn't that a contradiction? Surely she was either mentally competent or she was not, it had to be one or the other, which was it?"

"Your Majesty, I object!" protested Perot. "The witness isn't a psychologist, she isn't qualified to answer this particular question. The defendant was offered and waived her right to counsel. The fact that she underwent treatment from an IDIS deprogrammer is irrelevant to the issue of whether she was mentally competent at the time she waived her right to counsel."

"Are we not to infer, Your Majesty, that my client was somehow mentally unfit if she needed psychological treatment, such as she received from an IDIS deprogrammer?" asked Soissons.

"It is still an improper line of questioning for this witness, Your Majesty. Let Monsieur Soissons refer his questions to a witness with appropriate qualifications. Directed at Agent Mustafa, an investigator and not a psychologist, they're nothing more than leading!" Perot replied.

"The fact remains that Agent Mustafa was the one who made the decision to bring in the deprogrammer, and I want to know why she did so, if she felt my client was mentally competent!" Soissons insisted.

The Emperor held up his hand to silence the discussion as Messeigneurs de la Justice whispered to each other, before then advising the Emperor.

"Monsieur Soissons, your present line of questioning is leading and best directed elsewhere. If you want to know why Agent Mustafa made the decision she made as an investigator, ask her that." the Emperor commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Soissons bowed. "Agent Mustafa, as an investigator, why did you decide that my client needed treatment at the hands of a deprogrammer?"

Ceren listened quietly to the debate about the question, folding her hands lightly in front of her. When the question finally reached its admissable form, she answered. "I judged that the kind of loyalty fostered by Sebben's methods prevented her from being able to expose him in the same manner she was able to expose herself without aid."

"Agent Mustafa, you are familiar with Sebben's methods, are you not?" asked Soissons. "Can you describe them in detail, for the court?"

He knew enough about them to know that if nothing else, Mustafa talking about them would create sympathy for his client.

Ceren nodded. "I am. Sebben's normal methods involve wooing a woman either with political conversation or with romance. Eventually, he will 'marry' her. Sometimes he pretends she is the only one. Other times he openly operates as a polygamist, telling her he has the right to as many wives as he wishes and that she has a duty to be one. Once 'wed', Sebben will often torment his wife with beatings, burnings, and sexual degradation. Most former consorts of his are found with burn marks, scars, and bruises."

"You mentioned before the specific case of Her Most Royal Highness the Grand Duchess of Garmar." Soissons said. "Could you describe in detail, for the court, what Sebben did to Her Highness?"

"Your Majesty..." Perot started.

"If it pleases the court, Your Majesty, this witness has specific knowledge about what this Sebben has done to many of his victims, of whom my client is one. It is certainly relevant." Soissons interjected.

"Proceed." the Emperor nodded.

Ceren frowned slightly. "Sebben paid to have Her Highness abducted. After the abduction, she was raped repeatedly and violently by a human wizard bent on humiliating her. Sebben then forced Her Highness to marry him on threat of death by...uniquely dangerous means. While they were 'married', he kept Her Royal Highness prisoner in a place where she was normally kept on a leash and collar and was routinely bound. He branded her and used her to put out his cigarrettes. He forced her to be used as furniture and he beat her severely and frequently. All this to the sister of his queen."

"Can you think of a case where Sebben has abducted a human woman, other than my client? If so, please describe it." Soissons continued.

"No." Ceren answered simply. "There are only one or two cases where he's known to have abducted any woman against her will."

"I'll rephrase then, can you think of a case where Sebben has employed similar control techniques on a human woman, other than my client?" Soissons asked.

Ceren nodded. "He used this technique on Esther Greenberg."

"Can you please describe in detail what Sebben did to Esther Greenberg?" Soissons asked.

"Your Majesty..." Perot started.

"If it please the court, this witness has specific knowledge about the man who victimised my client and his techniques!" Soissons insisted.

"Proceed." nodded the Emperor.

Ceren paused, summoning up the memory. "She was beaten around her pelvis, hips, and thighs. The beatings were severe and frequent enough to have left scarring and bruises."

"Over how long a period?" Soissons asked. "And throughout this time, did Sebben have sexual contact with her, consensual or not?"

"Over a period of seven years and yes."

"It would be fair to say that this Sebben has a pattern of abusing women, physically, emotionally, sexually, that he controls them through this abuse, that he makes his victims want to do anything for him?" asked Soissons. "That he has such control over them that they endure his abuse, in the case of Esther Greenberg, for years at a time? That some of his victims are so twisted by his methods that they take this abuse as a sign of affection, and that they would do anything to please their abuser, this Grand Duke Sebben?"

Ceren paused a moment, considering. "I am not certain of any case where such abuse was actively taken as a sign of affection, per se. However, as for the rest of it, yes."

"Thank you, Agent Mustafa. I have no further questions for the witness, Your Majesty." said Soissons. None of the other lawyers for the defence had questions for her.

That evening, Ceren dressed for Romanoi. He was supposed to come pick her up in a few minutes. Her dress was green with a slit up to just above the knee on the left leg. She was fussing over her hair and worrying just a little. Her mind kept wandering back to those laughing Pantocratorian nobles. The more she thought about it, the less it seemed like they had been laughing at the dress.

Romanoi knocked on her hotel room's door spot on the time they had agreed. When she opened the door he smiled at the sight of her.

"You look great, Ceren." he said, looking her up and down approvingly. He offered her his arm. "Are you ready to go?"

Ceren took his arm with a light smile. Thank you." She blushed a little. "Yes, I'm quite ready." As she walked arm in arm with him, she looked a little nervous. "Will people snicker like they did in court, do you think?"

Romanoi led her out and to his car. He leaned into her ear and whispered.

"No, but if they do, I'm carrying my revolver." he said, giving her a wink.

He took her to one of New Rome's nicer restaurants, on the edge of the Old Quarter, overlooking the river.

Ceren laughed a little. "Now Jean-Pierre, you can't actually shoot people for being rude." She went with him to the restaurant, looking around slightly nervously, taking in how people were looking at her.

She didn't get any particularly weird looks - certainly no more than any other pretty woman in a nice restaurant might have gotten. As they were both eating their soup for the entrée, Romanoi brought up the case again.

"Do you think... do you think that Euphémie Avenier really had a choice about what she did?" he asked. "I mean, apart from all that stuff her lawyer was saying, apart from technicalities about confessions and right to counsel... with what this Sebben put her through, do you think she's responsible for her actions?"

Ceren nodded. "What he did to her was horrible, but it wasn't mind control or hypnotism or even true brainwashing. She still had the faculty of agency the entire time. She knew what she was doing. I think the prosecution might be exaggerating her role in the whole affair somewhat but that's about it."

Ceren smirked slightly. "Jean-Pierre, you know I never would have testified that I found her responsible if I didn't. Truth, especially under oath, is far too sacred a thing to be broken or even bent just to get a conviction."

She turned her attention to the menu, looking it over for what she wanted. "I've spent all day worrying about the case though. I'd actually like to talk about you. How did you decide to go into law enforcement?"

Privately, she was rather relieved not to have encountered any of the kinds of annoying glances she'd gotten in court.

"That's a good question." Romanoi nodded. "I always liked the idea of investigating crime, but I knew I didn't want to work for the police, I should start by saying. Actually when I was a child I wanted to be a private investigator, like Sherlock Holmes, a character in some books I read in English class at school. Around the time I finished school I was mature enough to know that most cops are just on power trips, and I didn't like the uniform anyway. Unfortunately I realised around the same time that most private investigators don't investigate criminal matters, and there wasn't much demand for them at the time in Pantocratoria, what with divorce being illegal and all. So I did a criminology degree at university, and the IDIS and IFIS had this joint intelligence agent training course at the time. You had to have a certain GPA and you had to speak languages other than Greek and French. It sounded like a mixture of investigation with some other exciting sounding spy-movie type stuff. I thought it might lead to something, so I did that, and shortly after that I was employed by the IDIS. Of course, turns out that there isn't that much spy movie type stuff."

Ceren nodded. "We don't have divorce either. It's in the Modernist Party platform to legalize it but even after ten years with a strong majority they haven't been able to get it passed. I don't really get the impression Prime Minister Lacau particularly cares. The Church of Excalbia is for it, as are the Methodists who are increasingly common in Shieldcrest."

She went on. "I read Sherlock Holmes as a little girl too. I always took it as something of an example the way he noticed every detail. I would try figure out who was responsible before he revealed everything at the end."

She continued looking at the menu, reading what there was to order. It was her first time in a Pantocratorian restaurant of this type.

"So what other languages do you speak?" she asked. The conversation had, so far, been in French of course. "And how often do you use it in your work?"

She glanced around briefly, expecting the waiter.

"Of course it is a lot easier for a character in a book to notice every detail..." Romanoi smiled. "Other than French and Greek, I speak English, Dutch and Quenya. My Quenya's pretty bad actually, but I can read it and understand it. I've used all of them at various points in various operations, especially when I used to work counter-intelligence. Not so much anymore really."

The menu was typical of a lot of up-market restaurants of New Rome. The dishes were a combination of uniquely Pantocratorian dishes (many of which revolved around new and creative ways to eat peacocks), French dishes, and a few Greek dishes (although these were by far the minority). The waiter arrived.

"Madame, Monsieur," he said, nodding politely to the couple. "In addition to the dishes on the menu tonight, chef's special today is a main of roast pheasant stuffed with carpaggio of pork, served with potatoes lyonnais. The special entrée is an omlette of quail's eggs with prawns, salmon, onions, champignon mushrooms, and cheese. May I take your order?"

He looked to Ceren first.

Ceren nodded to him. "I speak French, Greek, Arabic, Quenya, English, and Welsh."

Deciding to be daring, Ceren ordered something weird made of peacocks. Ceren then looked to Romanoi to see what he was getting.

"I'll have the omlette for the entrée, and the peacock and avocado fettucini for a main." Romanoi ordered.

"Very good, monsieur. Would monsieur or madame care for anything to drink?"

"Can you bring me a bottle of the house white?" Romanoi asked.

"Of course. And madame?"

"Bring two glasses." Ceren answered.

The next morning the trial resumed. The prosecution witnesses continued. Once the prosecution had rested, Konstantinos Soissons began to present his case in the defence of Euphémie Avenier. He rose to make his opening statement.

"My client, Euphémie Avenier, is a victim. A victim of the real perpetrator of the vile crimes of which she stands accused - Grand Duke Sebben ap Balor. She has sought to take responsibility, more responsibility even than perhaps she should, because she is so wracked with guilt about what Sebben made her do, but make no mistake, he made her do it." Soissons said. "If a man fires a gun into a crowd and it hits somebody, you don't blame the bullet. You blame the shooter. Grand Duke Sebben ap Balor is the shooter. Euphémie Avenier is his bullet. Ruthlessly manipulated into loving her abuser, forced to do his will, through mortal fear so perverted by his brutal behaviour that my client mistook it for love, for affection. Your Majesty, my client realises now that what she did was wrong. She has thrown herself on the infinite mercy of Your Majesty, and on the mercy of the court. I will demonstrate over the coming days that my client, Sebben's unwitting pawn, his victim, is innocent of those charges to which she pleaded not guilty, and more importantly, that she is worthy of that mecy."

With that he sat back down next to Euphémie.