Chương 63: Book 2, Chapter 2: In Absinthia

"It's really unfortunate. My Papai has been travelling the world since his retirement—he's always enjoyed that kind of thing, really, what a hassle throwing all his burdens on his beautifully competent daughter just so he could go 'study the marvels of the world'." Bel sighed.

"He's in Istantinople now, and the Empire's authorities seem quite insistent that he's killed someone. A merchant, apparently. Ridiculous!" Clara winced. Istantinople. In the Byzottoman Empire. What's next, Emperor Mehmestinian the Great? She'd already seen some simple maps of the continent, but they only referred to Arcadia's eastern neighbor as "the Empire", and she wished it'd stayed that way.

If she could get her hands on the author who came up with this aneurysm-inducing fusion of the Byzantine and the Ottoman empires, she'd really give them a piece of her mind." Killed someone?" Iris narrowed her eyes.

"That sounds quite unlike him." Bel shrugged.

"You know how it is in the Empire. They've resented Arcadia—and my family specifically—since our armada forced them to end the slave trade all those decades ago. Papai was foolish to travel there without the diplomatic protection of a state visit. He's always leaving messes for me to clean up. One of these days, I'll arrest him myself."

"Do you have any details on the charges?" asked Clara.

"Not much." Bel shook her head.

"The letter wasn't very detailed. I imagine he had little time to write it, being on the run and all."

"Your father is on the run?"

"Of course. It wouldn't do for someone of his station to voluntarily submit themselves to the Empire's justice—it'd set a terrible precedent," said Bel.

"The last letter we got from him simply talked about the accusations and reassured us he's safe." Clara took a sip of the tea a very nervous server had just brought.

"Aren't you worried about him? What if he's been captured since then?"

"He hasn't. I can count the number of people who would be able to stop Papai on one hand, and none of them are Byzottomans." Bel sounded very certain of that.

"But even without catching him, they want to try him anyway, something called in absentia. If only it were in absinthe! Now that's a trial I would happily submit to." Bel's sharp laugh echoed around the room. A trial in absentia was a trial without the defendant present. It wasn't unheard of, back in Clara's world, especially when the defendant had fled to another country or was hiding away.

But here, where trials were based mainly on truth magic, it was hard to imagine how a court would function without getting hold of the suspect. Wait, do the Byzottomans even have truth magic? Goddess, just remembering that name is physically painful.

"I see," said Clara.

"I think I understand the gist of it. But Bel, would the Byzottomans allow a foreign advocate to appear in court? And do we have time to get there before the trial date?"

"We should, if we leave tomorrow. We'll ride to Fontaineux, then sail across the Elysian Sea. My ships are very fast, and I wager we could be in Istantinople in ten days or so. Though honestly, I have no idea if they'll let you defend him. Either way, it doesn't hurt to try—we have a contingency if you fail," said Bel. Iris tilted her head curiously.

"And what would that be?"

"Ah, the usual." Bel gleefully raised her hands and mimed an explosion.

"Cannons. Our ironclads have lots of 'em, and the Empire's fleet is depressingly outdated. But Mamãe would be cross with me if I didn't try the peaceful solution first. And the King might be annoyed too, that coward." Iris nodded as if that was the most natural response in the world, and Clara gulped. Potential military action aside, going abroad to try a case wasn't how she'd planned to spend the next few weeks.

She needed to settle her rental agreement, then study for the solicitor's exam so she could register with the Traders' Guild and start her business. After all, even if there were no trial lawyers in Arcadia, nobles and wealthy merchants still needed people to write commercial contracts, handle property deeds and wills, and whatnot. That way, Clara would be able to start up her law office and earn a steady income while slowly pushing for criminal justice reform and taking any cases that might pop up.

And if she found some spare time, she could always take up Professor Morris's offer to become a teaching assistant, in exchange for him teaching her magic—though right now he was rather busy studying Helena's incantation so he could adapt it to heal Forrest. Yet Bel's offer had its merits. Clara was genuinely curious about how other countries' legal systems worked, and another successful defense under her belt would help improve her credibility to push for reform in Arcadia.

Plus, there were still about two months until she would need to be in Elysia City for Helena's canonization ceremony, so the calendar would work. And if the client was who Clara assumed…

"Before we continue, Bel, I just wanted to confirm one thing," said Clara. Bel reached across the table and held her hand.

"Anything for you, Clara." She winked, and Clara felt genuinely charmed. This woman is dangerous. Iris slapped Bel's hand away. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Oh my, I didn't realize little Iris had grown up to be so feisty. Good for you!"

"Hmph." Iris lifted her chin. Clara cleared her throat.

"Bel, if I understand correctly, you are Duchess Isabel de Bragança, yes? And that'd make your father the former duke, Pedro de Bragança." Bel frowned.

"If you call me 'Your Grace', I'm throwing you overboard." Well, we've had a cold duke last time, so it makes sense we'd get a pirate duchess this time. Not that I'm complaining—it'll be nice to have a break from stuffy titles. And I was looking forward to meeting this 'Isabel and Pedro' pair, given the reputation of their counterparts back in my world.

"Now, if you accept, I'm ready to pay you—""I don't want money," said Clara.

"I've got plenty of funds from my last case."" Oh? Then what do you want?" Bel leaned in curiously. This was a gamble. But if Bel agreed, the payoff for Clara's future plans would be huge.

"I want a favor. One that I can call on when the time comes." Bel's smile widened.

"A favor from House de Bragança is a dangerous thing to give." She took a coin from her pocket, flipped it in the air, and then caught it. After looking at the result, Bel laughed.

"But alright, I'll grant you one. If you win." That would probably be extremely tricky, considering Clara didn't know the first thing about 'Byzottoman Law', but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. She extended her hand, and Bel shook it.

"If you're going, then I'm going, too." Iris puffed her cheeks.

"Can you just leave Claves like that, Lady Iris? Would Duke von Rhenia even let you go to a foreign country?" asked Clara.

"Not to mention the risk of danger."

"Final exams are over, and the next school year only starts in September. I was planning to return to the estate for the summer, but this sounds much more interesting."

"That's the spirit!" Bel beamed.

"We should bring Connie along, too—it'll be a good chance for him to see Luisa. And don't worry about Maxie's permission, I'll deal with him. We'll have a great family outing!" Right. A 'great family outing' atop gunboats threatening war. How very wholesome.

"Splendid," said Iris, before biting into a macaron. Then she turned to Clara.

"Oh, if we're going to Istantinople, we'll need to look at some summer outfits for you."

"Thank you, Lady Iris, but I think I'll stick to my suit. It is a business trip, after all. Plus, I have some business I need to finish, and I also want to get some books on the Empire to read on the way."

"Nonsense, getting some proper clothes is a great idea. It's almost June, you'll sweat yourself to death dressed like that in the Empire," said Bel.

"I'd love to tag along, but I have another stop in Westwick, so I'll see you both tomorrow around noon at the Plaza. Iris, be a dear and let Connie know his presence is required, will you?" Bel stood up, and Iris lowered her head.

"I will, Your Gra—I mean, Auntie Bel." Iris blushed again, and Clara found it very amusing to see someone so prim-and-proper react to overt casualness from a hierarchical superior. Stitch's Atelier sat at the corner of Vainqueur and Grafton, with a pastel blue front and a window display filled with seasonal ribbons. Clara hesitated on the threshold.

The bank had given her a credit line of a thousand marks, thanks to Edward's confirmation of the prince's promised payment, so it wasn't as if she were poor, but clothes here would definitely go for more than she was comfortable spending. She followed Iris inside. The shop floor was wide and open, with a counter by the entrance and a long velvet curtain at the back.

Dozens upon dozens of dresses were mounted on rows of mannequins lined up like infantry, all of which looked much more expensive than anything Clara had ever worn, in this life or the other.

"My lady, perhaps we could try the dressmaker on Kettle Street first." Iris scoffed.

"I knew you were going to say that—you are far too modest for your own good. Not to worry, that is exactly why I have brought us to a true professional. Madame Silka!" A small woman, her head barely reaching Clara's chest, emerged from behind the curtain. She had a short black bob and wore a measuring tape draped around her neck as if it were a scarf. She was Madame Silka Stitch, Westwick's premier tailor for the aristocracy, and the one who'd made the costumes for Class 2-A's school play.

"Lady Iris." Madame Silka narrowed her eyes.

"It is always a pleasure to welcome someone with taste. A shame the Claves uniform is still such a drab thing." Iris pouted.

"It's terrible. I keep asking them to let us modify it, but they say it was designed by a Saintess hundreds of years ago, so changing it would be 'blasphemy'. A tragedy, really." It looks nice, though. As far as Clara was concerned, the Claves ensemble definitely fit the classic look of a 'fantasy magical academy uniform'.

"If you ask me, blasphemy is the Church's fashion sense," said Madame Silka.

"What can I do for you today, my lady? Will we be looking at summer outfits, now that you are free from the tasteless clutches of the Academy?" Iris gestured toward Clara.

"Yes, but not just for me. My vassal here requires a summer wardrobe." Madame Silka turned to Clara and looked at her for the first time.

"You. Turn around. No, the other way. There. Now do not move." Clara didn't agree with the vassal framing, but she did as she was told. Madame Silka circled her like a bird of prey.

"Hm. Hm." She went around twice, then three times, until finally she stopped in front of Clara and clicked her tongue.

"The shoulders, acceptable. The waist, I can work with. But the suit. Very much not acceptable—where is the flourish? Who made this? No, do not tell me. I do not need more enemies."

"Madame," said Clara, trying to change the subject, "I really only need one or two things. Something light I can travel in."

"One or two. One or two." Madame Silka turned back to Iris.

"Do you hear this, my lady? She asks Madame Silka for 'one or two'. As if I am some peddler on the docks, making clothes for beggars and foul-mouthed sailors. As if Silka Stitch puts her name on one or two!"

"Madame, I—" Iris waved dismissively.

"Don't listen to her, Madame Silka. She doesn't know what she's saying, I'm afraid. We'll need the full treatment, but we've only got until tomorrow morning. You can work your magic, yes?"

"Tomorrow morning." Madame Silka clicked her tongue again.

"And where are you going, exactly?"

"The Empire," answered Iris.

"Istantinople."

"In June? It's a good thing I can work miracles. Specifically, miracles of style." Iris smiled.

"I knew I could count on you. We must get started immediately. We'll need a walking dress, two day dresses, and an evening gown, at the very least. And that quaint pearly parasol from the window. Oh ho ho!"

"Lady Iris," said Clara, her voice firmer this time, "I really cannot spend like this on dresses right now. I have some plans that'll take up the bulk of my funds." Unlike some protagonists, Clara did not have a handsome duke on hand to 'buy her the entire store' just because she liked one item." Pfft." Madame Silka exhaled sharply.

"Afford. The lady has not asked you to afford. Do not insult the lady. Do not insult me. House von Rhenia has me on retainer, and I do not take coin from women who object to being well dressed. It is vulgar. Now stand up straight and let me measure you." Then again, I suppose a cute villainess can do the job, too.

"…Can I at least get something with pockets?" Madame Silka groaned.