Under Section Twenty-One of the Imperial Judiciary Code, an advocate of record in a capital treason trial kept the lawful right to inspect the Court’s Precedent Rolls during overnight adjournment.
Chief Justiciar Malvane had tried to deny the petition, citing public safety and the late hour. But Magistrate Ren had stood at the clerk’s counter at the fourth bell, quoting three hundred years of office bylaws with such cold, terrifying care that the scared Chief Clerk had handed over the iron master-key without waiting for the judge’s counter-signed name.
Now, at two hours past midnight, Ren Vale sat at a scarred oak refectory table in the underground High Court Archive.
The archive was a massive, underground cave carved directly into the bedrock beneath the Granite Hall. Thousands of wooden pigeonholes stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with rolled calfskin vellums, lead-sealed court registers, and crumbling town tax rolls dating back to the foundation of the Grand Duchy. everyone could feel the scent of dried bone-glue, bitter iron gall, and the dry, choking dust of decaying parchment.
Two Iron Templars stood guard at the heavy oak doors, their poleaxes held at the carry. They didn’t look at Ren. They kept their visors pointed straight ahead. They sweated in their plate armor, scared of the slate-grey judge who walked the narrow aisles with silent, measured steps.
