As Felix began his descent toward Opera Epiclese, the wind shifted—too suddenly.
Below them, a ring of Gardes emerged like clockwork soldiers in formation. Their deep-blue coats and pristine silver accents gleamed in the afternoon sun. Long spearlike rifles clicked into place, all pointed upward in a silent, chilling chorus of discipline.
Felix's wings flared with instinct.
He hovered, talons flexing mid-air.
A commanding voice rang out from below:
"You are under arrest for violating aerial restrictions within Fontaine's airspace.
Unauthorized flight is a punishable offense under national law."
Orion tensed in the saddle, feeling Elynas go stiff in his arms.
"Wait… what?" she whispered, wide-eyed.
Felix grumbled. "I told you this place had ridiculous laws."
Orion eyes went bruh," you Said the EXACT opposite."
With a low, reluctant rumble, Felix descended—hovering just long enough for Orion to dismount with Elynas, gently lifting her down onto the stone plaza.
But the girl trembled.
"I didn't know…" she mumbled, staring at the ring of rifles. "I didn't know flying was illegal here—I didn't mean to—"
Her breath hitched. Her shoulders shook.
"I'm a bad guide… I messed up…"
She began to cry—helpless, high-pitched sobs that echoed between the pillars of judgment and stone.
Orion knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Hey… hey," he said softly. "You didn't do anything wrong."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small gold coin—ancient, radiant, and real.
He pressed it gently into her palm.
"Here," he whispered. "That's your fee. You gave us a tour. You did good, Elynas."
She sniffled, clutching the coin like a lifeline.
"Go back to the harbor. Stay safe. When we're done here, we'll come find you. I promise."
She nodded weakly, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and staggered back into the crowd—people parting silently to let her pass.
Orion straightened then, his expression hardening as he turned toward the ring of guards.
"I'm not going to resist."
His voice rang clear, sharp as steel in a courtroom.
"But let the girl be. She was only accompanying us. I take full responsibility for the flight."
Felix rolled his eyes behind him. "Technically I was the one flying…"
"Not helping, Felix," Frieda muttered flatly.
One of the Gardes stepped forward—taller than the rest, with a gloved hand resting on the barrel of his rifle.
"You and the creature will be escorted for questioning," he said coldly. "By order of the Oratrice."
A hush fell.
The Opera Epiclese loomed ahead—its great glass doors gleaming, its stone steps waiting like a stage set for an unwanted entrance.
"Come quietly," the Garde added. "And your case may be seen mercifully."
Orion exhaled, brushing silver hair back from his eyes.
"Mercy," he repeated. "Not something I'm used to."
He stepped forward.
Felix followed, grumbling under his breath.
And high above, from the shadowed balcony of the Opera Epiclese… someone was watching.
The grand doors of Opera Epiclese shut behind them with a booming finality.
Orion and Felix were led down a winding corridor lined with velvet drapes and golden sconces—less like a courthouse, more like a backstage passage in a sacred theater. At the end of the hall, they were unceremoniously shoved into a side chamber. The walls were stone, but the furniture? Ornate. Excessive. Fontaine never forgot its flair.
A half-dozen officers waited inside—Gardes, clad in polished navy blue, high collars, silver buttons gleaming like water droplets in the light. One woman stood out—seated at a baroque writing desk, twirling a feathered pen with visible disdain.
She stood slowly and approached, heels clacking against the marble floor with intentional elegance.
Orion was motioned into a chair.
Felix flopped down behind him with a disgruntled huff, curling his tail protectively.
The air turned stiff. Tense.
From the corner, someone muttered—
"A man with royal features… and a dragon. Classic troublemakers."
Felix growled.
Orion remained silent, spine straight, gaze forward.
The woman stepped closer, her voice sharp and sweet like a blade dipped in sugar.
"Name and reason for violating Fontaine's airspace laws."
She wore the uniform like a piece of theatre costuming—19th-century Fontaine-chic, with detached puffed sleeves and a tailored brown bodice ending in bloomers that barely passed as official. She could've walked out of a courtroom or a costume ball and no one would know the difference.
Orion exhaled slowly.
"I am Orion, Crown Prince of Arian. I flew unaware of Fontaine's aerial restrictions. It was… a mistake."
The officer sighed dramatically—louder than necessary.
"Well, bienvenue to Fontaine, Prince of DelusionLand."
She rolled her eyes and stepped back, tossing her pen into a crystal inkwell with a little clink.
"Ignorance isn't innocence here, darling.
You'll be put on trial this evening. The people will love it."
She turned with a practiced twirl of her coat, already bored.
"Gardes—escort the suspects to the holding chamber. And please, no one get clawed."
Felix grumbled as two officers cautiously flanked him, aiming their spear-guns like nervous zookeepers.
"Do I look like I'm planning to barbecue anyone?" he snorted.
"Felix," Orion warned, standing calmly.
They were led out again—through another velvet-lined corridor, into the belly of the Opera, where voices echoed above, and the trial stage was already being prepared…
The stage was set.
And make no mistake—it was a stage.
Inside the heart of Opera Epiclese, the Trial Chamber was a vast cathedral of law and spectacle, flooded with crystalline blue light from stained glass above. Marble columns rose like the ribs of a Leviathan, curving toward a ceiling that shimmered like a water's surface from below.
Rows of masked citizens filled the gallery—some nobles, some tourists, some simply eager for scandal. Court in Fontaine wasn't just justice. It was entertainment.
A grand spotlight ignited at the center.
A platform rotated up from below—slowly revealing Orion, standing tall in regal silence, silver hair catching the glow like a halo. Beside him, Felix, bound in a shimmering chain made of Hydro runes, coiled once around his chest like a belt that dared him to sneeze wrong.
Murmurs echoed through the crowd.
"Is he really a prince?" "The dragon looks sassy." "Maybe they're lovers." "I heard he insulted Furina's hat."
And then—
The music swelled.
A curtain parted high above the chamber, revealing a throne on a balcony of rippling glass and pearl. On it sat Furina—the Hydro Archon, the Goddess of Justice , the Star of Fontaine.
Her throne gleamed, shaped like a nautilus shell unfurling. Ribbons of water trailed behind her like an ever-flowing cape. She rested her cheek against her palm, legs crossed lazily, a crystal chalice in her free hand.
"Ohohoho~ What a curious duo we have before us today," she purred, voice amplified by divine echo.
"A foreign prince... and a talking dragon. How delightfully illegal."
Orion didn't flinch.
Felix yawned.
Furina sipped her drink and waved at the clerk beside her. "Open proceedings. And let's be swift—I have a monologue to rehearse after this."
A well-dressed Marachuesse hunter stepped forward, presenting documents with a theatrical bow.
"Your Honor, the accused entered Fontaine airspace without clearance and descended upon Opera Epiclese unannounced. The child seen with them has been cleared of suspicion."
Furina raised a brow.
"Oh yes, the little tour guide." Her tone softened briefly. "How charming."
Her gaze flicked back to Orion—piercing, almost amused.
"So then, Prince of Arian... how do you plead?"
Orion met her eyes, unfazed by the throne, the lights, the weight of hundreds watching.
"I plead honest ignorance of your laws, Archon.
But I will not plead guilt for protecting a child… or flying a friend through the skies."
Gasps.
Whispers.
Furina leaned forward in her throne, lips curling with interest.
"Ahh~ a noble heart and a dramatic soul. You'll fit right in."
The crowd chuckled nervously.
She rose slowly from her seat, descending a staircase of water that formed beneath her feet midair.
"But this is Fontaine, darling.
Ignorance is never innocence.
And flights of freedom have consequences."
She now stood face to face with him, smaller than him, but commanding the room like a storm in human form.
"So—shall we make this a proper trial?
With performances. Witnesses.
And perhaps… revelations?"
Orion nodded once.
"If that is what it takes."
Furina grinned.
"Then let the curtain rise."
The voice cut through the chamber like a tide breaking stone.
"Order. Order, I say."
Gasps rippled through the crowd as water surged across the far wall, flowing upward to form a towering throne of mist and light.
From within it stepped a man tall as the law itself, cloaked in cascading azure and white, his staff glinting like the tip of a divine verdict. His eyes held the weight of oceans—quiet, vast, and ancient beyond measure.
Neuvillette had arrived.
Iudex of Fontaine.
Sovereign of Judgment.
And the one voice Furina could not outshout.
He took his seat without a glance toward the crowd, toward Furina, or even toward Orion. The weight of justice itself seemed to ripple with him.
"Now that the charges have been formally pressed," Neuvillette began, voice deep and deliberate, "and the accused has confirmed his actions with sincerity, a trial is unnecessary."
Furina blinked, still halfway down her staircase of water.
"Monsieur Neuvillette—"
He raised a hand, and even she fell silent.
"I shall now deliver the verdict."
A hush gripped the chamber. Even Felix straightened.
Neuvillette's staff slammed down against the polished stone with a resonant crack, like thunder echoing beneath a lake.
"Orion of Arian, Crown Prince and foreign dignitary, is hereby found guilty of operating an unregistered aerial entity within the sovereign skies of Fontaine."
The words hit with the finality of an executioner's drumroll.
But then—
"However…"
His gaze lifted—icy, ancient, unreadable.
"This was your first offense.
You have caused no harm, nor sought to evade justice.
And as a guest of another nation, bearing diplomatic presence, your actions fall under the clauses of leniency within cross-border law."
He stood from his seat. The waters around him stilled.
"Therefore, the punishment… is nullified.We shall now turn to The Oratrice Mechanique D'naluse Cardinale for the final Verdict."
Unsurprisingly the Verdict came from Oratrice was no different than The one Given by Neuvillete.
A collective exhale swept through the crowd.
Felix grunted in relief.
Orion dipped his head respectfully.
Furina? She pouted like a girl denied her curtain call.
"Ugh, fine." she muttered. "But I was going to give him a stylish collar of penance. With glitter."
Neuvillette ignored her entirely.
"Let it be known," he said, voice echoing across the marble chamber, "that the laws of Fontaine shall always be upheld—but mercy is not absent from justice. Court is adjourned."
The waters spiraled upward, carrying him back into the throne of judgment.
And just like that—
The tide of law receded, leaving silence in its wake.