The palace of justice was cold in the predawn hours. Every footstep echoed as if one walked through a tomb.
High pillars looked down on Thorag and Groan Bones as they made their way deeper into the realm of the law, with all the grim dignity of warriors off to battle.
The heavy oak doors of the courtroom faced them, and Bones eased them open, revealing the court, nearly empty.
Only Riza and the countess were within, the latter dressed up in soft colours that accented her figure.
They sat at the head of the room, before the vast bench of the judge’s table, as empty as the pews for observers and the jury box.
They turned as Groan and Thorag entered and stopped opposite their desk.
"Glad to see you dug yourself up to meet us," Riza said, rising with all the lazy grace of a snake.
Bones said nothing, his face stiffer than usual. Casually, he opened his briefcase, and drew out a heavy black tome and laid it on the table.
Riza glanced down at it with mild interest, but Vargaras’s eyes widened.
"What’s this supposed to be?" Riza said.
"Would you happen to know anything about a certain wizard? A man who lived on Gleam Street, above a tailor’s shop?"
"I don’t usually interest myself in sorcerers," Riza said.
"Someone did," Bones observed, a grey hand opening the tome, flipping through. "And it appears a miss Vargaras was among them. According to this, it seems that she employed the man to deactivate the arcane securities around the estate of Lady Primrose. The same night that she was tragically slain by a vampire. And, it would appear that our dear sorcerer was killed by one too."
Riza leaned in, looking at the scrawl idly. Vargaras, Thorag couldn’t help but notice, looked extremely ill.
"I do hope you’re not... insinuating anything, Bones," Riza said coolly. "There are many vampires in this city."
"I am merely laying out facts, Riza," Bones said. "Much as my client does in her articles. By the way, have you read this morning’s edition of the Morning Wood?"
"I don’t read the gossip rags," Riza replied.
"Ah, I supposed not. Which was why I helpfully brought one with me."
Bones pulled the newspaper out and laid it on the table. Riza looked at the headline, her expression as rigidly composed as a corpse laid out for viewing.
Sorcerer Slain! Book Recovered! Countess Tied to Murder!
"Insinuations," Riza hissed through her fangs.
"Quite so," Bones said. "Though, one might wonder why it was our dear Countess who made this arrangement, and not the vampire who ended up murdering the sorcerer. One might even suspect said vampire might have had a reason to avoid tying herself to this man, in case of a situation just like this."
Vargaras looked to Riza with a new expression. Something nearing wary suspicion. Riza didn’t turn away from Bones or Thorag, her red eyes lidded, nearly slits.
"One might even ask," Bones continued, looking over Riza’s shoulder as if musing on the hypotheticals of life and unlife, "whether the other members of the nobility, who were also allegedly present at the ritual beneath the countess’s manor, might wonder if their own lives might not be so secure. That any of them might be suspected of talking to our dear reporter. Why, they might even become quite expressive in their efforts to speak further of events that went on in that coven when the Silver Griffons begin knocking on doors, for this is surely a case which would warrant their attention, and bring new evidence to your own lawsuit."
A low, creaking sound crackled through the air. Thorag looked down to find Riza’s fingernails had gouged five long lines in the wood of the table.
Riza glanced down at the damage she had done. She lifted her hand, idly flexing her fingers. "My," she said coolly. "You do enjoy suppositions, Bones."
"It’s a useful trait in my career," the zombie observed drily.
"Too true. Countess?" Riza said, turning to the woman, smiling. "I believe we may have some... business to discuss regarding your lawsuit."
"Uh, well," Vargaras said, edging away from the vampire. "I um..."
"I’ll inform the judge pretrial will need to be postponed," Bones said.
"We’d be very obliged," Riza said, her hand grasping the Countess’s arm before the other woman could edge away further. "My dear? Shall we?"
The Countess’s smile was a rictus of fear, her efforts to pull away from the vampire’s grip futile as Riza walked the other woman back down through the empty courtroom. Thorag watched them go, leaning out as the pair vanished through the doors, which boomed shut behind them.
"Um..." Thorag said. "Did we win?"
"I imagine so," Bones observed as he returned the black tome to his briefcase. "Of course, we will never be able to tie Riza herself to the crimes. She is far too clever to have left any real evidence. And I imagine the countess will have a number of bigger problems than her reputation to worry about, Miss Copperman."
"You think so? Like what?" Thorag asked.
"Buying up every clove of garlic in the city, for starters," Bones said as he snapped shut his briefcase. He lifted his head as the door at the end of the hall opened and Judge Meloch shuffled in with his clerks. "Ah, excuse me, Thorag. I need to inform the judge our opponents seem to have withdrawn for now."
Thorag watched Bones jerk over to the old man, bending his head to speak to him. The elf plopped down in her seat, resting her chin in her hands.
What a day...
---
It was a melancholy, grey evening for Thorag’s funeral. Thorag watched from the rear of the crowd as some orcs stepped forward to the graveside and bellowed their thoughts on the dead orc.
Several rather attractive women dropped bunches of flowers onto his casket.
Orcs deposited rather more traditional gifts of weapons to take into the afterlife.
Orcs believed strongly that when one died, they went to a battlefield in the heavens, where endless battle and buxom women awaited their champions.
When Thorag’s turn arrived, it felt as if every eye was upon her.
Several orcs from Thorag’s clan glowered at her.
After the articles about the murders, including rather salacious ones from competing newspapers, Thorag’s relationship with Thorag and with the killer had been exposed.
Many at the funeral no doubt held the opinion that it was Thorag’s fault Thorag was dead.
Thorag smiled through the tears and dropped the bouquet of scarlet roses onto his casket.
Her eyes were puffy and her plush bust quivered in black lace as she drew in a shaky breath.
"Farewell, prince among orcs," she exhaled. "The bravest of the brave. I will never forget those times we spent together. I’m... sorry."
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