The grand halls of Fontaine’s Court stood tall, a monument to absolute law. Within its marble walls, whispers rose like a tide against the silence of judgment. At the center sat Neuvillette, the Iudex, the embodiment of Fontaine’s justice.

His presence was imposing—serene, yet distant. The weight of the nation’s laws rested upon his shoulders, carried without a tremor. He did not waver. He did not feel.

And today, you stood before him, shackled in cold iron, accused of a crime that could shatter Fontaine’s order.

Murder.

The evidence was damning. The blade was in your hands, the victim at your feet. Witnesses spoke, weaving an undeniable truth.

Guilty.

Yet, despite everything, you stood unafraid. Your eyes met Neuvillette’s, unyielding, challenging.

“You do not understand,” you said, voice steady. “You see only the law. But do you see the truth?”

A murmur rippled through the courtroom, silenced by a single glance from him. He observed you with detached scrutiny, yet something—something—flickered in his gaze.

Doubt.

No one had ever questioned his judgments before. No one had ever challenged him. Justice in Fontaine was absolute. And yet…

That night, it rained.

Standing alone on the Tribunal’s balcony, Neuvillette gazed upon the city. The downpour mirrored his turmoil. Justice was clear-cut, the law unquestionable.

So why did your words linger? Why did the certainty of your guilt feel wrong?

The final day arrived. The court awaited judgment. You stood before him, chains glinting under the chandelier’s cold light.

Neuvillette exhaled.

“The court has reached a verdict.”

The room held its breath.

And then—

"Is this what justice means to you?! Answer me, Neuvillette!"

Your voice rang out—raw, desperate, something even he could not name.

For the first time in centuries, Neuvillette hesitated.