~Mary~

It was undeniable that it was easier not to have to do anything. The dinner that she shared with her father and Chella was warm and inviting instead of fraught and stressful as it might have been. Neither she nor her father brought up the village worth of people who had died on the word of two men with very compelling reasons to be untruthful in their accounts. There would be no further action on that front. Even though law was clear that all appeals to an unjust sentencing were to be looked into independently, there would be no further action. For all that it never spelled it out, the laws were written to protect nobles from the inquisition, not to protect the common man. Theoretical interpretations of words meant to read nicely were all those amounted to.

Mary only half listened as her father went on about the amount of progress that they had made despite all the holdups. Even if it was hyperbole, the council hadn't stuck it out for a full session for nearly half a year. There was always some reason why one member or another needed to be somewhere else or some minority held up a vote on technicalities while they maneuvered in the background. It was something of a small miracle that the timekeeping got lost in the shuffle and they couldn't make up an appointment they needed to keep.

"The amount of ground that Count Beyer gave on the regulatory policy ruling in return for that one thing about the Baronet was simply astounding! I can't say that I expected it, but I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as should no man be," rumbled Mellok. He was slightly red from drink and slightly loud from the same. He wasn't normally one to indulge, but neither was any sort of forward motion in the council normal.

Chella's glass was so watered down it looked more like pink-tinted water than wine and even then she drank in small savoring sips. She made the usual contributions that only showed she was listening without adding any of her own opinion. Nothing much bothered her anymore. And so they ate roasted lamb, potato gratin embellished with thyme, and fine wine garnished with congratulatory words.

***

~Risch~

There was nothing quite like watching a lamb go off to the slaughter. She had failed the test and that was that. Feelings were best kept limited to those able to receive them as he always said. The inquisition wasn't a place that allowed its members the freedom to turn down offers. In their eyes, a person was only reliable if they could be relied on to serve their own best interests. An opportunist would not risk themselves for the greater good so long as their chances of success were low, and the chances of success were kept very, very low. It also wasn't a mindset that they had had much success in training a person for. Either you had it or you didn't, and if you didn't, then you were too dangerous to give power to.

As much as his peers didn't much like the fact, Risch had a lot of power. At that very moment he was walking through the halls of power with a piece of paper sharper and more dangerous than any of the many weapons that the trainees were likely training with now. Among commoners whose power was at best their ability to hit back, such weapons could be very useful. Among those whose power was predicated on rules, regulations, and common custom, those weapons lost to the sheer force of numbers which they could bring to bear.

Risch didn't bother knocking as he entered Count Beyer's office. Like most of the council, Beyer spent most of his time here, ostensibly making preparations for cases that came before them and going over drafted bills that made their way to the council for final review. Unsurprisingly, Risch saw little in the way of work that might have gotten in the way of the plate of cheese and the bottle that sat on Beyer's desk instead. The man himself lounged in an absolutely massive armchair with a crystal glass in hand.

Beyer abruptly tried to sit up and look imposing when he noticed Risch come in, but he started choking on his drink and the image was less than flattering.

"Would it kill you to knock?" he asked, and then quieter but not enough to escape Risch's ear, "Of course a damn jumped up commoner has no manners."

"You are under arrest. As is your right, your family will be informed and allowed to check on your condition while you await trial. Please come with me."

The satisfaction that Risch felt for finally being able to bring this case to the council was only supplemented by Beyer's outrage.

"I am on the council! You can't just show up and arrest me!" Beyer shouted.

Risch pulled out the writ with Prince Phillip's signature on it. It didn't much matter that it wasn't meant for such use since he could claim that the evidence against Beyer had just happened to come up in his investigations. It would also be something that the other Counts on the council would leap at so that they appeared balanced in their treatment of nobles and commoners. So long as Beyer was fined and dumped in a cell long enough for his stranglehold on the foodstuffs market to loosen, Risch would take what he could get.

There wasn't much of a struggle after Count Beyer read the writ, the all-encompassing carte blanche to act with the prince's authority and all the rest. It was a wonder that anything got done without such things, but Risch had experienced more than enough of that. Rather than the temptation for acting extrajudicially, it was the temptation to test the very limits of what was now so very judicious. He had the opportunity to set a great many things right in the immediate if he so chose. Yet if he did that, he would lose the very power that made it possible and likely his life to boot. But Risch hated life in the way that a drowning man hated water. He was going to need it again sooner or later.

It came as no surprise when Prince Phillip's summons made their way to him. He had been with Ihre, putting the final touches on their case for embezzlement when the messenger boy showed up. Unlike the vast majority of messenger boys, this one had seemed more interested in the goings on at the inquisition than terrified, though he had been scared nonetheless. Either that or he had taken a shine to Ihre and he was doing a particularly bad job of furthering his case.

"So every inquisitor without exception was–is a commoner? I spend my time around the noble folk, what with my job and all, and I can't imagine them ever agreeing to that," the boy said guilelessly. In Risch's honest opinion, the boy had probably never told a lie in his life and gotten away with it, what with all his nervous tics even when he wasn't lying. The boy felt refreshing to be around. Always considerate of anything and everything, but aware enough to not make his company aware too. Other than the lack of courage which meant that he could be trusted not to read private letters, it was probably a large reason that he was still employed. It wasn't rare for messenger boys to be fired in the span of weeks, but he told stories of events from over a year ago.

"Here we are, the prince will be waiting inside. And if you don't mind me saying, please do be careful. He was in a bit of a mood when he sent me for you and I'd hate for you to be on the receiving end of it." The boy gave a meaningful glance to Ihre and then ran off to find some other rich person in need of his services. At least the mystery of his interest in the inquisition was solved.

The room itself was the same as it had been when he reported what he had learned at the brothel to the prince, but the prince was very much a different person. He looked like he had been put through the wringer for the first time in his entire life and come out the other side much worse for the wear. There were circles sagging beneath his eyes and lines creasing his forehead. His cheeks were sallow and pulled into an angry frown.

"Count Breyer of all people? What in God's name do you think you're doing?" the prince shouted red in the face, "You even paraded him all the way down to the inquisition's questioning cells and you apparently didn't have the time to reconsider?"

None of these were questions that could be usefully answered, so Risch held his tongue. It was precisely because it was Count Breyer that he had pursued something like embezzlement charges, and he had very much enjoyed all the time it had taken and all the stares that they had drawn getting Breyer to his nice little cell. He had even held off on the torture since it was in bad taste to use torture on such a cooperative captive.

"I've been trying to answer why my name was attached to the arrest of a member of the council of lords and you've been what, playing with her?" continued Prince Phillip. He was working himself into more and more of a frenzy and it was in a very unfavorable direction.

Risch tried pleading with his best subservient whine. "Please, your highness, it was through my investigations of Masler that I uncovered Count Breyer's misdeeds. There is still the possibility that they are linked more closely than it might seem and so I needed to bring him in for questioning."

"There are some people who are off limits, is that not obvious to you? I can't rule if every nobleman in the kingdom hates me before I've even taken the office!"

It would have been almost convincing if he had made such considerations before sending Risch off to dig up something over a snub. It was the type of thing that was better settled with a drunken fistfight to be cheered on by an equally drunk crowd and then broken up by a disappointingly sober bartender. Men were better off without the power to do stupid things. It made Risch regret ever joining the inquisition, the part about power just being a way to amplify one's mistakes. But then, mistakes could be plenty consequential even without the power to back them.