Page 61: The Scales of Justice

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Julius Richter never wanted to be a lawyer. But his father was one. And so was his grandfather. And his great grandfather. And...

He spat out a sigh.

It was a living, in any case. One that had an impact on people's lives.

He was a prosecutor. He could become the deciding factor in leading a criminal, a monster, into their rightful punishment. He could become the deciding factor that would give people solace.

Julius Richter had passed through many barriers to get to where he is now. Graduation from Harvard Law School on Earth, and the bar exam on Midgard, completing both on his first try, both at age 21. And with that, there have long been whispers of him being a genius, plain and simple.

Still, Richter always felt these tasks were trivial. He was a lawyer.

Input the necessary knowledge. Formulize the plan of attack. Output the desired result. It worked every time.

Every single time.

Input. Formulize. Output.

Every. Single. Time.

It was already the fourth day of Alexander's court case. His hands were still chained together, wrapped with steel. And today... The witness they called up was a Paladin. A man dressed in a long, black coat and his face covered in a mask of a plague doctor. Ambrose Eldritch, famed for his poison magic and advancements in magic medical procedures.

His mask was made of black leather, bound by string and cloth. There were two holes for his eyes, covered by a perfectly crafted, dark lense, connected with a ring of steel. With his black pants and black boots, dark coat and sleeves... The layers upon layers of cloth hid away his skin, not showing a single sliver. His hands were covered with white gloves of silk, and every hair on his head was hidden under a black top hat.

"Now..." Richter muttered. "Sir Eldritch... You were the one to bring down Alexander Lane, just one week ago today. You-"

"That's correct," the Paladin interrupted, leaning into the microphone before him to assure his voice was loud and audible.

Richter stared at him.

Ambrose Eldritch was always known to be a difficult man. But Richter knew he would be the key to the case. Everything that the Paladin was involved in, everything that he had seen and knew was perfect.

All Julius Richter had to do was turn that key.

As dull as his job was, this slight moment of finding the perfect gap to resolve the case... That was enough to crack a smile. With a slight smirk permeating onto his pale lips, Richter asked the paladin. "You would say you have an expertise when it comes to demons, would you not?"

He nodded. "I have experience dealing with them. Far more than an average magician, and most likely the most out of the Paladins."

"And why is that?"

The Paladin stared at Richter. His gaze was hidden behind his mask, behind the lenses of dark black. But both Alexander and Richter understood what that stare meant.

It was one of dull anger, as if that was the worst possible question to be asked.

Julius Richter wasn't able to sense the magic energy emanating from that man. But Alexander was. Maybe it was because they had already faced each other, maybe it was because of the fact he was a Paladin... But Alexander felt afraid of that man, and of what he could do.

Still, the Paladin quelled that feeling and spoke into the microphone. "I prefer not to say. Next question, if you will."

Richter wiped a single bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "You were present in New York City during the occurrence of the manifestation of Mammon. Mammon was subsequently killed by Alexander Lane, although building up to him becoming a demon. The demon you brought down. Is this all correct?"

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