Chapter 417: A Legal Trap, A Royal Slap

They entered through the front doors of the police station in formation. Damon first. Blair beside him, hood up, hand in his. Beta Draven and Briggs flanking. Brennan in the rear, doing an admirable job of pretending he wasn’t cataloging every ward etched into the doorframe as they passed through it.

The intake officer behind the front counter looked up from his paperwork, saw five people he had never seen before wearing clothes that did not belong to this kingdom, and made the face that intake officers make when the last hour of a shift stops being quiet.

"Can I help you?"

Beta Draven stepped forward. The step was measured, unhurried, the approach of a man who had been walking into hostile rooms since before this officer was born and had learned that the first thirty seconds determined whether you got what you wanted or got escorted out.

"Good evening. We are counsel representing Guinevere Drakencrest, currently held in your facility. We are requesting immediate access to our client as well as formal discovery of all charges, evidence, and testimony relevant to her case. We understand you have procedures. We are happy to follow them."

The officer blinked at him. Looked at the group. Looked at the counter like it might offer guidance. It did not.

"I don’t have any record of approved counsel for that detainee."

Briggs set his satchel on the counter and opened it. The motion was smooth, practiced, the motion of an attorney who had been opening satchels on hostile counters for fifteen years and treated each one like a loaded weapon aimed at bureaucracy.

"Under the Third Accord of Sovereign Transparency, any detained individual of foreign sovereignty is entitled to legal counsel of their choosing, regardless of whether the hosting jurisdiction has pre-approved said counsel." He slid a document across the counter. "This is our formal notice of representation. This is our request for discovery. And this is a copy of your own statute, section fourteen, subsection three, which guarantees visitation rights within two hours of counsel’s arrival."

The officer picked up the document. Read the first line. Read the second line. His eyes moved to the statute copy and something behind them tightened because the statute was accurate and the man handing it to him knew it was accurate and the knowing was worse than the document.

"I’ll need to check with my Commander," the officer said.

"Of course," Beta Draven replied. "We will wait. Happily."

They waited eleven minutes. Damon counted them because Damon counted everything when he was in an unfamiliar environment. Blair’s hand was still in his and her fingers had tightened twice during the wait, which told him she was running calculations behind the hood and the calculations were producing results she was keeping to herself.

Brennan was examining the wards on the intake counter with the focus of a man who had been told to stop touching things and was touching them with his eyes instead.

The door behind the counter opened.

Commander Veyron entered first. His posture was straight, his jaw was set, and his eyes swept the five of them the way a man sweeps a room he already owns and is deciding whether the new furniture belongs. Behind him, Octavian followed at a pace that was deliberately slower, the pace of a man who wanted to observe the room before it observed him.

Brennan’s eyes locked onto Octavian for one second. His face gave the room nothing. His chest gave his cloaking a silent prayer because the Luminari Master Mage was three feet away and the last time they had worked together involved a portal, a frozen continent, and a very loud argument about anchor mathematics.

Damon saw Octavian and did not react. His hand stayed on Blair’s. His eyes stayed forward. The recognition was filed and locked and would be useful later and was useless now.

"I’m Commander Veyron, head of the Kingsguard," the Commander said, stopping in front of them. His voice carried the authoritative weight of a man whose name was on the building and whose patience was running a deficit. "What seems to be the problem?"

"There is no problem, Commander," Beta Draven replied. "We are legal counsel for Guinevere Drakencrest. We have filed formal notice of representation. We are requesting access to our client and formal discovery of all evidence related to her charges. Your officer has been very accommodating."

The officer behind the counter looked like a man who had just been complimented for something he hadn’t done and was choosing to accept it anyway.

Veyron’s eyes moved across the five of them. One at a time. Measuring. His gaze lingered on Damon’s hand holding Blair’s for half a second longer than the rest and then moved on because a man holding a woman’s hand in a police station was not a crime and Veyron had enough crimes to deal with tonight.

"Five counsel," Veyron said. "For one detainee."

"Our client’s situation is complex," Briggs offered from the right.

"What is more complex than your presence," Veyron continued, and his voice shifted from authority to accusation in one sentence, "is how five people from a foreign kingdom arrived inside our sovereign wards without authorization. You did not come through our gates. You did not pass through our checkpoints. You did not register at any port of entry." He folded his arms across his chest. "Which means you breached Luminari wards. That is a criminal offense under the First Sovereignty Statute. So before we discuss your client, let’s discuss how five foreign nationals appeared inside a protected civilization without a single record of entry."

The sentence landed on the group the way an ambush lands on a column. Calculated. Timed. Designed to put them on defense before they could establish offense.

Briggs opened his mouth. Beta Draven’s hand came up by one inch, the smallest possible gesture, and Briggs closed it. The hierarchy had spoken and the hierarchy was a man whose index finger could silence an attorney mid-syllable.

Blair pulled her hood down.

Every man in the formation held his breath because the hood had been the only thing keeping her anonymous and she had just removed it voluntarily in a police station full of officers and the Commander of the Kingsguard.