Despite the handful of meetings the judge had previously had with her, this was the first time a meeting was to take place in her office. It still held a clear imprint of her father, shelves and shelves of neatly arranged books along the walls. Despite the afternoon sunlight falling through the open window, shadows thrived and they seemed rather partial to her, clinging to her, as if a widow’s veil which hid her expression.

After he took his seat, she wasted no time and slid over a stack of papers. “My Lady?” he asked, only sparing the top page a glance before looking back into the darkness.

“Master Schulz, pray do at least skim over these before we discuss anything.”

Her voice, gentle and warm, floated over amongst the whispering breeze. He heard her, yet hesitated for a long moment until he gave in to her request. So he picked up the loose papers, his gaze flickering down each one—and his eyes grew that little wider with each page. Once he finished the last, a long few seconds passed before he gently placed the papers back down.

“Sir understands the gist of the proposal,” she said.

It wasn’t a question and, even if it was, he would not have disagreed. He very much understood. “What does My Lady mean by all this?” he asked, his voice coming out thin.

“I told sir I intended to speak to people well-read on this matter and so I did. We discussed, not just the ideal set of laws, but the philosophy and history of laws too, as well as engaging in a greater discourse of what it means to be a society and how laws interact with societies.”

He let out a controlled breath, then gave the table a sharp tap as if banging a gavel. “That is not an answer to the question I asked.”

“I suppose not; however, I have no need to answer sir’s questions if I do not feel inclined to,” she said, a lightness to her voice which was accompanied by idly playing with a pen. “After all, I have spent a lot of effort on this. Does sir think it is easy to meet so many talented people? To then have to pamper them and entice them to the topics I wish to discuss, still then to have to ingratiate myself with them so that they would explain their points in ways I may follow….”

Trailing off, she let out a huff and, the sunlight falling on her face for a moment, she showed a pout before leaning back into the shadows.

“Of course, we are all very thankful for having such a diligent ruler. It is not that I am questioning your hard work, rather that… it is a rather large change, so I am curious how you see all this,” he said with an attempt at a smile, gesturing at the pile of papers.

Silence followed for a while, soon broken as her maid entered and brought her a cup of tea. “Would sir like anything to drink? My butler could fetch a brandy or some other some such liquor my father left behind,” she said, looking past the judge.

“No, thank you. I couldn’t impose,” he said.

“Very well.”

For a moment, he stayed puffed up, ready to speak, only for it to set in that she would not be asking him again. A kind of pain struck him at not knowing the taste of the late Count’s liquors, almost painful enough to have him speak up. In the end, though, he managed to keep from doing so.

On the other side of the table, she took a sip of her tea and then spoke. “The heart of this matter is that the people feel safe. There is nothing which may deter all crime; and there is no crime which God shall not know. So I am asking sir to work towards that.”

Pulled out of his thoughts, he listened closely and couldn’t keep his mouth from thinning. “To ‘feel safe’? What is even the purpose of such a goal,” he said.

“Sir, I do not intend to imply ignorance, but pray understand that to feel safe is very much the entire purpose of a city. In our discussions, we agreed that there are three key reasons why it is that people would leave their home: safety, work, and leisure—in that order.”

His gaze turned to the window, mouth still thin, a wrinkle between his brows.

“Augstadt must be a place where people feel safe to live, otherwise they will leave, and it must seem safe to others to attract them here,” she said, her voice soft, only to grow firmer when she continued. “This is the most important responsibility and it is the one I shall be entrusting to sir and the guild. The responsibility of the mayorship shall be to facilitate businesses and trade such that there shall be ample work available. Last of all, it shall be the responsibility of the nobility to provide patronage for the arts.”

Although his expression went unchanged, he became rather still, only to then give a shake of his head as he brought his gaze back to her. “While you have given this much consideration, what I read therein….”

“Perhaps it will help sir to consider that, ultimately, nothing of substance shall change. The judges shall still sit in their courtrooms and administer justice. The change, then, is in our understanding of justice.”

She spoke of it as if it was a simple matter and he could only just keep himself from laughing, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “Justice is not something which may change—”

“It is,” she said, firm, yet not cold nor heated.

At her interruption, he pounded the table, her cup rattling on its saucer. “Now listen here. I have been a judge longer than you have been alive and I assure you that, even if not perfect, we know justice. Ask any experienced judge and they will tell you the same. These thinkers you spoke to—they are just that: thinkers. They do not know what it is like in a courtroom, they do not know what it is like to look evil in the eye without flinching. All this talk of leniency and juries when it is us who makes this city safer with the hardest decisions. Has any of those philosophers had to face the mother of a child dead to a murderer shown mercy?”

While he did not grow angered in his response, it was hardly spoken in a calm and collected manner, instead full of restrained passion that spoke of a man long-dedicated to his cause.

For her part, she met his gaze the entire time, unflinching to the end, then took a sip of tea before giving her simple reply. “I ordered the execution of the hundred-odd mercenaries who had rebelled after the late Lord Grosburg’s death and I watched every single death. Pray do not think me naive. What sir sees in those pages is mercy, whereas I see mercy in a man hanged for he is spared from living in dread of facing his maker.

“However, this is not about punishment. As I said, it is a change in our understanding of justice, that we now shall look at crime as something which must be atoned for. A criminal must repay the society he has injured—with an appropriate amount of interest to deter those with questionable morals.”

At her sobering reminder, his righteousness died down and he composed himself once more. “My Lady speaks of giving me this responsibility and at the same time intends to limit my powers to enforce the laws. Forgive me if I am conflicted,” he said, his voice without the bitterness he spoke of.

“Sir is better than to demand the power to hang whatever criminal he wishes.” A statement, not a question.

He shifted in his seat, keeping up his attempt at a polite smile as his hands clenched.

“Perhaps sir glanced too lightly. After all, I understand it as the guild shall be expanding its powers,” she said, her gaze coming down to the stack of papers at the end.

After hesitating, he followed the cue and once more picked up the pile and read through them carefully this time.

Once he put them back down, she spoke. “One aim of these changes is to encourage safety for others. Muslims and Jews, for example. If we could prove ourselves as a place where they may live in peace, then I am confident we would be able to attract a great many of them.”

“For what reason would we want… those people here?” he said—and his disdain was not at all concealed.

She regarded him for a long moment. “The reason is the same as why we would wish for anyone to move here. That is, the more people in the city who are working, the greater the wealth for us all.”

Rather than debate this matter further, she pulled the topic back around as she continued.

“Sir should understand that this is also an important step in cleanly separating the Church from these matters. We are to define laws which apply to all men, regardless of religion or creed. For matters of religious law, we shall provide a separate court which would, of course, still be under the guild’s authority.”

His interest piqued, he let out a chuckle. “I do wonder what the good bishop thinks of this arrangement.”

“If I may be candid, which man would give up power without complaint? Of course he shall be compensated; however, this arrangement is not open to negotiation,” she said.

Good humour lingered on his lips a moment longer before fading away. “Separate courts,” he said, a thought spoken aloud.

“We shall also be making the city safer for business. Merchants abhor risk. If we could provide certain guarantees and prove ourselves as reliable in enforcing them, there would be more work and greater availability of goods. So it should fall under the mayorship’s responsibilities… however, it seems to me that the judges would be better suited to mediating disputes, especially with how many educated people the guild employs. After all, it would require reading contracts and checking accounts.”

“A third court,” he said, his expression blank.

She raised her hand, showing four fingers. “Last of all, there would be a court to mediate… lesser disputes. Such things which do not warrant being called a crime. For example, if a piece of expensive clothing is accidentally ruined.”

“One must wonder why would a judge waste time over such… unwarranted cases,” he said, a caution in his voice.

“That would bring us back to spring: the illusion of the pursuit of justice and the maintaining of good order. We provide this court so that the people do not turn petty matters into violence. It need not be a sophisticated court—in fact, the simpler, the better. Let it be little more than both people speaking their piece, presenting any evidence, and the judge making a decision. When put like that, sir might even find it familiar….”

Her last sentence narrowed his eyes as, for a moment, he fell into thought, then he sucked in a breath. “Yes, much like petitioning the King.”

“Precisely,” she said with a lopsided smile. “Sir may well find other similarities between the papers and how the King governs the nobles. After all, whether or not the King’s judgements are truly just matters little. What does matter is that the nobility is willing to subject themselves to them.”

It was not a simple line of thinking to consider and he fell into deep thought.

However, she had better uses of her time than leaving people to think. “I imagine sir has reservations regarding the guild’s rearrangement.”

Not a subtle cue, her statement certainly provocative, he put aside his other thoughts for now. “Please, reservations is putting it too harshly. My Lady has considered these matters thoroughly and so I would wish to hear some of her reasoning,” he said, clasping his hands together and forcing a polite smile.

“Well, it is quite simple,” she said, idly fiddling with her teacup. “I believe that things should be clearly defined. There are judges, there are lawyers, and there are notaries. Each has their own responsibilities and authority. While it makes sense that a judge should first have experience as a lawyer, and that a lawyer should first have experience as a notary, it is rather different to, say, a blacksmith who, whether an apprentice or master, is still performing the same job.”

He nodded along. “Indeed… it is perhaps time to reflect the guild’s growth.”

“Precisely. The guild’s current premises is far from sufficient to accommodate all the work that shall be coming its way, especially if we are to begin training the keepers of the peace.”

“Ah yes, the militia-like group,” he said lightly.

She gave a smile that was then hidden by her cup, taking a sip. As she placed it back down on the saucer, she gestured, speaking shortly after. “It shall be necessary for new criminal courtrooms to accommodate juries too. I know sir is reluctant to trust justice to them, yet he should keep in mind that the jury, their only power is to decide guilt. Every other power still belongs to the judges….”

As she trailed off, her gaze lowered to the cup in front of her, then slowly climbed back to meet his. With a finger in front of her lips, she leaned forward.

“Not to mention, these are commoners, people who are easily influenced. It shall be up to the judges to ensure they are not… mislead.”

Her implication could not have been more deliberate; however, he simply smiled, pretending as if he had not heard the insinuation. “Of course. It is a judge’s responsibility to keep the proceedings in good order.”

After returning his smile, she let her gaze fall once more, this time settling on the pages. “I am sure sir has one other discussion in mind regarding the nobility.”

The levity left his expression, his response only coming after a deep breath. “Indeed.”

Although she waited, he made no attempt to begin the discussion. It was almost enough to make her smile an ironic smile. Almost, but not quite enough.

“There are two key pieces to keep in mind. First of all, I shall be… informing them that the judges act in—and with—my authority, which means that the judges should be respected as they would respect me. Second of all… which noble would be found guilty by a jury of his peers?”

As she asked that question, she met his gaze, sunlight falling on her amused smile.

After a moment’s pause, she continued. “Whether or not justice is served—what matters is the illusion of the pursuit of justice. For the common man to see the nobles be summoned to court like any other man is a good enough start.”

For a while, a long while, he said nothing, simply looking at her veiled expression, until finally he broke into chuckles.

“My Lady certainly is wise to look to the King for inspiration. Indeed, it is easy to forget she spent much time at the Royal Palace. She thinks of everything at a higher level than us.”

Covering her mouth, she let out a titter. “Which is why I need those who understand the lower levels.”

Their conversation lingered for a little longer before she dismissed him along with the stack of papers, a silence falling in the office as her butler led the guest away. The wind whispered, cold, tugging at her clothes. Eventually, the door opened once more and her butler entered once again, her maid slipping in as well with a fresh cup of tea, swapping it with the cooled one upon the desk.

“Why would anyone see it an achievement to order around their subjects,” she said, a whisper, yet one which carried through the room.

Her butler smiled. “My Lady, the achievement is not in issuing the order, but in having it be thoroughly and faithfully acted out.”

“So Mr Cromer thinks Schulz has been swayed?” she asked, sounding neither curious nor accusatory, but instead rather disinterested.

He gave a chuckle and, after sparing the maid a smile, gave his answer. “Master Schulz is a cunning man when he so wishes. As long as My Lady continues to tip the balance in his favour, he has no reason to put his cunning to use.”

The teacup at her lips, she smiled, taking a sip, then let out a long sigh as she lowered the cup. “Mr Cromer has a way with making politics seem so simple.”

“My Lady is too kind,” he said with a bow. “I am merely blessed to have observed how My Lady’s father and mother engaged with these matters.”

“Always a flatterer,” she said with laughter in her voice, which she then settled with another breath.

Her gaze wandered over to the open window and the distant sights far beyond.

“What interesting times we shall soon be living in,” she whispered.