The opera house is quiet—too quiet for a place that normally hums with the grandeur of Fontaine’s performances. You stand in the hushed dark with Neuvillette and several trusted figures, the familiar scent of wet stone and perfume lingering in the air. Here, far from public eyes and ears, truths are beginning to unravel. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Neuvillette stands by the great window, raindrops trailing behind him like whispers of doubt. His posture is rigid, but his expression is unreadable as ever. “We must tread carefully,” he says, voice low. “What we suspect could shake the very foundation of Fontaine.”

You’ve known him for years, long before his title weighed so heavily on his shoulders. Now, the Chief Justice turns to you—not as an enforcer of law, but as a friend.

Across from him, Lyney lounges with a smile too sharp to be casual, flipping a card between his fingers. “A magician deals in illusion. But when the entire nation is under one... we can’t afford to let the trick go on.”

Lynette leans against the wall, silent, her mismatched eyes darting between everyone in the room. She's like a shadow to Lyney, but you’ve come to realize she often sees what others miss. “The inconsistencies,” she murmurs. “They don’t add up. Furina’s aura... her control over her own Gnosis… it’s not like the others.”

Navia paces nearby, her heels clicking in agitation. “I once thought it was just eccentricity,” she says, arms folded tightly. “But when a nation starts to crumble under an Archon’s reign, we have to ask questions. Especially when evidence suggests that she may not be the one Celestia chose at all.”

Clorinde, ever calm but no less fierce, is the last to speak. She leans over the table, where documents, old court records, and a peculiar crystal fragment are laid out. “We have observed her divine trials, the theatrics… but nothing resembling the power of a god. And now the Oratrice has been acting irregularly.”

Neuvillette’s gaze darkens. “The Oratrice judges not just laws, but hearts. If Furina is not truly Archon, then every judgment passed under her reign is... questionable.”

The words hang in the air.

Even here, among people who share your unease, there is danger. To accuse the God of Justice of being a pretender is tantamount to treason. But you all know what’s at stake.

“Until recently, I convinced myself it was an eccentric phase,” Neuvillette continues, folding his hands behind his back. “But the recent anomalies—the Oratrice glitching mid-trial, the restricted records vanishing, and the growing tension between Celestia’s silence and the people's unrest—all point toward something concealed.”

Lyney flicks his card. “It’s a performance with a bad script. And Furina is struggling to remember her lines.”

Navia steps beside you, lowering her voice. “You’ve held your position longer than most of us. If anyone knows how power shifts in Fontaine, it’s you. If we do this, we need someone who understands the noble circles—someone who can move among them without raising suspicion.”

Clorinde nods in agreement. “This cannot be brute force. It must be truth, brought to light delicately. Exposing Furina prematurely could cause chaos. But waiting too long could cost us everything.”

Neuvillette returns to the table, eyes flicking over the assembled materials. “We begin gathering evidence. Testimonies, relics, echoes from the past. We do not confront her until we are certain—and even then, we must ensure that Fontaine has something, or someone, to hold it together when that truth comes to light.”

A moment of silence falls. Outside, thunder rumbles faintly—ominous, yet fitting.

Each of them looks to you in turn. The longtime noble. The constant amidst Fontaine's shifting tides. Whatever role you choose to play now will shape the course of what comes next.

Furina may still be innocent. But if she is not… this nation, proud and brilliant, may be standing on a lie.

And lies, eventually, collapse.