Chapter 3 - A Child's Plea
The trial proceeded with a brutal, efficient swiftness. The prosecutor presented the broken lock from the apothecary, the testimonies of the guards, and the record of Arthur's resistance. With every word spoken, Arthur felt the noose tightening around his neck. He didn't care about his own fate, but every time he looked down at Mia, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. What would happen to her when he was sent to the mines? Who would protect her from the cruel streets?
As Evelyn raised her wooden gavel to pronounce the final sentence—twenty years of hard labor in the northern wastes, a functional death sentence—a small, trembling voice broke the oppressive silence of the courtroom.
"Please let Daddy come home!"
The entire courtroom gasped. It was strictly forbidden for spectators or family members to speak during sentencing. The guards instantly moved forward to quiet the child, but Evelyn raised a single, commanding hand, halting them in their tracks.
Evelyn lowered her head, looking through her golden spectacles down at the little girl. Mia was crying openly now, big, heavy tears spilling over her dirt-smudged cheeks, her mouth trembling as she faced the most feared woman in the city.
"Why should I?" Evelyn asked, her voice dropping into a quiet, icy tone that reverberated through the silent room.
Arthur broke completely. He sank his face into his hands, his fists clenching so hard on the table that his knuckles turned white. Low, ragged sobs tore from his chest as he wept for his helplessness, his tears dripping onto the dark wood.
Mia looked at her father’s despair, then looked back up at the imposing judge. She wiped her nose with her sleeve, trying to find her courage.
"I can fix your legs," Mia sobbed, her voice carrying an eerie weight that shook the gallery.
Before anyone could react, the little girl reached into the deep pocket of her oversized coat. She pulled out a small object and, with a trembling hand, reached over the wooden banister to place it firmly onto the judge’s low presentation table.
It was a small, circular tin container. It was heavily weathered, its metallic surface tarnished with age and scratched by years of neglect. But etched clearly into the center of the lid, in an elegant, archaic script, was a single phrase: “Ne Pami”.
The moment Evelyn’s eyes locked onto the tin box, the icy composure that had defined her for decades shattered instantly. Her breath caught violently in her throat. Her eyes widened in absolute horror and disbelief, her jaw dropping open as her entire body went rigid.
"Ah!" Evelyn gasped aloud, a sound of pure shock escaping her lips.
The courtroom erupted into a frenzy of confused murmurs. The invincible, unmovable Chief Justice looked as though she had just seen a ghost. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably, the gavel slipping from her fingers and clattering uselessly against the desk.
"Where... Where did you get that?!" Evelyn demanded, her voice losing all of its judicial authority, replaced instead by a raw, terrified desperation that shocked everyone present.
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Mia looked up through her thick eyelashes, her innocent face wet with tears, but her voice suddenly steady.
"Mom said you were my..." Mia started, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow. "Mom said you were my grandma. She said you would know what it means."
