The First Request Is Fucked. No Clients Are Coming.
It was the third day since I’d opened for business. Zero clients.
The office sat on the second basement level in the capital’s outskirts. A sign still carrying the sharp bite of fresh paint hung above the door: Calix Law Office. Specializing in Divorce and Family Law.
I had sunk every last coin of my graduation prize money into the rent, only to end up with a basement two floors underground. I stared at the ceiling. Ten years as a practicing attorney back on Earth, fifteen years since my reincarnation, top graduate of the Academy’s law department. Twenty-five years of legal experience in total.
And what was I doing with it?
Catching flies.
I looked at the one buzzing in my palm.
“You don’t have a retainer either, do you?”
The fly buzzed indignantly.
“Then get lost.”
I flicked it away.
That was when a knock sounded at the door.
…A knock?
I shot out of my chair. It toppled backward, but I didn’t have time to right it. I smoothed my hair, straightened my collar, and armed myself with a professional, trustworthy smile.
“Yes. Please come in.”
The door opened. A woman entered with her hood pulled low. She was petite, her hands pale and refined. A diamond ring glittered on her finger—the kind from the Sia collection. That piece alone was easily worth a hundred thousand gold.
I upgraded my lawyer smile to its highest setting.
“Please, have a seat.”
She lowered her hood.
“…Ah.”
My practiced smile froze for half a second.
“…It’s you?”
Cecilia Valoa. Youngest daughter of the Southern Grand Duke’s family. Seventeen years old. My junior from the Academy.
To be exact, I had been in my eighth year when she was a first-year. A junior in the law department. We used to bump into each other at the Academy store from time to time, and in the library she would sit beside me and borrow whatever book I had just finished.
That same junior now stood in my office with her hood down.
“Senior.”
“It’s been a while, Cecilia.”
“It took me two hours to find your office.”
“…Sorry. The location’s a little inconvenient.”
“This is the first time I’ve seen a law office on the second basement floor.”
“The confidentiality is excellent.”
“It’s so confidential I was worried no clients would ever find it.”
She wasn’t wrong, so I couldn’t argue.
Cecilia sat down and laced her fingers together. Her face was tighter than I remembered. This wasn’t a social call.
“Senior. I’d like to retain you.”
I straightened in my chair, brought out tea, and pulled out a notebook and pen.
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll pay ten thousand gold upfront as a retainer. We can negotiate the remainder once the case concludes.”
“…Ten thousand gold.”
I fell silent for a moment. Ten thousand gold was a full year’s rent for a prime office in the capital’s most expensive district. And she was offering it as an advance.
I swallowed.
“Let’s hear the case first. We can discuss payment afterward.”
Cecilia nodded.
“How much do you know about my family?”
“The Valoa Grand Duke family. The foremost trading house in the southern region and the entire empire.”
“Yes. My eldest brother, second brother, and third brother all serve as captains of our trading fleets.”
“They spend a lot of time at sea.”
“More than eight months out of the year.”
“A hard life they chose for themselves.”
“They were prepared for it. But…”
Cecilia trailed off.
“…My three sisters-in-law have been acting strangely.”
“Define ‘strangely.’”
“Whenever my brothers set sail, the three of them gather at Pearl Mansion.”
“Pearl Mansion? What is that?”
“A cliffside villa my father gave each of his daughters-in-law as a wedding gift. It was built like a fortress, with tightly controlled access.”
“A fortress… that’s also a villa. What exactly do they do there?”
“They throw parties.”
Cecilia bit her lip.
“…With knights and bards. Dozens of them.”
“Every day?”
“From what I’ve gathered, nearly every night.”
“So your three sisters-in-law are hosting nightly parties with over a dozen knights and bards at Pearl Mansion.”
“Yes.”
“And I assume these aren’t the tea-and-poetry variety.”
“…No.”
I set my pen down.
“Are there hallucinogens involved?”
“…There are. How did you know?”
“Pearl Mansion is designed to prevent outside access. If three married noblewomen are spending every night in a sealed villa with multiple unrelated men, hallucinogens are practically a given.”
“…I see.”
Cecilia paused, then looked at me with new eyes.
“You really are a lawyer, Senior.”
“…Yes. I am.”
It stung more than I cared to admit.
“At this point it’s still just a standard infidelity case. Easily handled under family law. But the look on your face tells me there’s more.”
Cecilia drew a deep breath.
“…My sisters-in-law have been giving our family heirlooms to their lovers as gifts.”
I set my teacup down.
“You’re talking about the Grand Duke family’s actual heirlooms?”
“Yes.”
“List them.”
“The eldest sister-in-law has been giving away the imperial diamond necklace bestowed upon our house by the founding emperor. The second has been handing over the Mermaid’s Tear—a jewel that commemorates our family’s first successful voyage. The third has given away the founding Grand Duke’s treasured sword.”
I raised a hand.
“Wait. The treasured sword?”
“Yes.”
“And your third brother has no idea his wife gave a national treasure to some handsome knight…”
“…We’re fucked.”
“…Yes, Senior. We’re completely fucked.”
I was mildly shocked to hear that word come out of my straight-laced junior’s mouth. She really wasn’t the same girl I remembered.
I glanced at my notes. The summary was straightforward.
Client: youngest daughter of the Valoa Grand Duke family. Opposing parties: the three daughters-in-law of the Valoa Grand Duke family. Allegations: collective infidelity, embezzlement of family heirlooms, use of hallucinogens, operation of a private pleasure villa. Victims: the client’s three older brothers, currently at sea.
“Cecilia.”
“Yes, Senior.”
“This is the best case I’ve seen in my entire career.”
“…It’s good?”
“A good case for the client is an ordinary case for the lawyer. A good case for the lawyer is an absolute nightmare for the client.”
“…I know.”
“Sorry. Occupational hazard.”
I leaned all the way back in my chair. A spiderweb had already formed on the ceiling even though I’d cleaned it three days ago. A law office couldn’t afford to look shabby.
I let the stray thought pass, then organized my thoughts. I picked up the pen again.
“Cecilia. Take dictation.”
“…Pardon?”
She quickly pulled a notebook from her bag, hands moving with practiced speed.
“First. Simple infidelity and simple embezzlement are too weak.”
“…Too weak? They’re stealing family heirlooms.”
“It’s not enough. All three sisters-in-law come from families aligned with the capital’s noble faction. If their houses intervene, the affairs will be written off as private marital matters. The embezzlement will likely be dismissed as a ‘misunderstanding about gifts.’ At that point the three women walk away with nothing but a minor reduction in alimony.”
“…Then what do we do?”
“We enlarge the playing field.”
“Enlarge it?”
“We’re going to add one more charge to the infidelity and embezzlement.”
“What?”
I tapped the notebook with my pen.
“Treason.”
Cecilia’s pen stopped mid-stroke.
“…Excuse me, Senior. Did you just say treason?”
“Yes. Treason.”
“…Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
She looked from her notebook to me and back again.
“Senior. I did attend four full years of law school.”
“I know. We were there together.”
“Even if I slept through every lecture, I still know what treason means.”
“Of course you do.”
“Then how does my sisters-in-law sleeping around equal treason?”
“Under normal circumstances it doesn’t. Your confusion is perfectly reasonable.”
Cecilia blinked.
“But this isn’t a normal case. More precisely, we can’t attach the charge yet.”
“Not yet?”
“I think we can make it stick.”
“…Senior, do you realize that sounds even more terrifying?”
“I do. Saying it out loud feels weird to me too.”
I brewed fresh tea, poured a cup for her, then one for myself, and sat down again.
“Cecilia. Let’s go slowly. What is the first principle of imperial law?”
“The emperor’s authority is absolute.”
“Correct. Second principle?”
“Social hierarchy is protected by law.”
“Right. Third?”
“The power of a family belongs to its head.”
“Perfect. You really did pay attention.”
I took a sip.
“The most important element in this case is that third principle.”
“The family head’s authority? You’re saying my sisters-in-law violated it?”
“If that were the end of it, this would be easy.”
“Then?”
“What I’m looking at is one step beyond that.”
“Which is?”
“The possibility that they have exercised the family head’s authority.”
Cecilia’s breath caught.
I wrote a single line in my notebook.
Knight Appointment Rights
Cecilia’s gaze locked onto the words.
“Knight appointment rights… the authority to name outsiders as official knights of the family?”
“Exactly.”
“But that’s the family head’s exclusive power. A power the emperor himself entrusted to the family head.”
“Correct. Since His Majesty cannot personally appoint every knight in every noble house, he delegated that authority to the respective family heads.”
Her expression grew steadily harder.
“So if someone without that authority uses it…”
“They are interfering with the emperor’s own system of delegation.”
“…”
“In plain terms, an unauthorized person is wielding power the emperor personally entrusted to someone else.”
Cecilia pressed her lips into a thin line.
“Then treason…”
“It can fit. Logically, at least. Which is why we must be extremely careful.”
“Is there precedent?”
“None.”
She froze solid.
“…None at all?”
“That’s exactly why this case is both incredibly dangerous and an incredible opportunity.”
There is no existing precedent that connects infidelity to the violation of knight appointment rights. However, there are precedents for leaking family heirlooms, impersonating family knights, and the unauthorized exercise of a family head’s power.
“So each element exists separately.”
“Yes. Each one does. I intend to tie them together into a single charge.”
I drew three lines in the notebook.
Heirlooms are not ordinary property.
Knight appointment rights are the exclusive authority of the family head.
Unauthorized exercise of the family head’s power constitutes an infringement upon imperial authority.
I connected the three lines with a single bold stroke.
“If we bind these three together…”
“…”
“A case that begins with infidelity may very well end in treason.”