The cool evening gently played with the wind between the whitish hair of the judge, who sat down at the street table of one of the restaurants, tasting another glass of water from some rare water source.

The man's pale face is illuminated by the young moon, reflecting small wrinkles from thoughts about the recent incidents in Fontaine. Neuvilette is lost in thought, slowly sipping from his silver glass as his pale, wise eyes slowly trace the line of the horizon receding into the distance.