Chapter Text
He just climbed to the top of the palace. Laughing out loud while still trying to catch his breath, Phoenix leaned against the domed roof. He wondered if anyone could see him up here, or if they did, what they would even do about it. What they could do about it. At 200 feet off the ground, no sane person would climb this high. “It’s a good thing I’m not sane then.” He muttered to himself. After taking a few deep lungfuls of air to fully compose himself, he carefully edged around the dome to the nearest window. Right. This was the tricky part, if he could manage to get up there and someone open it, he could get in and out easily in the future.
The problem was, he thought to himself 5 minutes later, I don’t think things through. Admittedly, that was where half his troubles came from. Somehow though, the crazier a scheme of his became, the more likely it was to work. He had managed to walk the narrow ledge surrounding the dome to get to the closest skylight, but said dome was going to be tricky. Way too smooth to find a good grip, and even if he did somehow get to the window, there was no guarantee that he would be able to open it, let alone have a safe place to land after getting through. Groaning, he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. All that work for nothing. It was then, looking down, that he noticed something. A small key hole, embedded in the supposedly solid rock. He stared at it for a long moment, before quickly getting the tools he’d luckily had the fore sight to bring, just in case. This might just be another waste of time, but he’d already come this far. Adjusting himself on the hard concrete, he set to work. It took longer than he would have liked, especially with how simple the lock looked, but he suddenly heard a pinging sound, much louder than he expected, sounding like it came from the entire building. He waited, tensing, but from what little he could hear from the streets below, there was no great commotion down there from. “That’s… odd.. WOAH-“ A door, indistinguishable from the rock, had suddenly popped out of the cement and swung open. Catching his breath (again), he suddenly realized what it was. The builders, needing to get in and out while in construction, had made a small door to make it easier. Obviously, they had kept the opening barely noticeable, so no dastardly ne’er do well, like himself (he grinned at the thought) would get the crazy idea to break in this way. Acting quickly, he slipped through the door way, letting it fall shut with an ominous sound.
And immediately halted. There was no physical impediment, but the sight of it all was enough to take what remaining breath he had away. The sheer size of the dome, resplendent in its paintings and gold overlayed, was enough to overwhelm anyone. After gazing at it, nearly gaping at what he saw for a long time, Phoenix finally shook his head and carefully made his way to a comfortable looking ledge that would give him a good view of both the dome above and the court room below. No one could see him from down below unless he wanted them too, an ideal spot. Any thief would be practically vibrating from the easy money that would surely come from the delicate golden filigree and beautiful art works. Phoenix certainly was excited. He reached into his vest pocket, retrieving his tools, and set to work, sitting in an overlook of the trial, barely started.
And there he sat, legs dangling over the court room proceedings, listening to the voices of the accused and the accuser drifting up towards him. While he sketched the scenery, he thought amusedly to himself. “It’s certainly a good thing I’m not a thief, then.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
[many days have passed]
It was getting late. The courtiers and the king especially, seemed bored of the days proceedings. Most days, trials were through quickly, with minimal protests from the accused, and those assigned to their cases explaining the matter clearly to the court. Witnesses were used, the prosecutor prescribed treatment, which was deliberated by the council and sanctioned by the king. Most ended up guilty, to one degree or another. It was a fine system, relying on evidence and reason. Justice, after all, was best served with the certainty of a guaranteed verdict.
Phoenix had been coming up to the dome fairly regularly for 2 months by now, watching the proceedings in the court and getting ideas for the details he’d like to incorporate in his mural. In the meantime, he had found several additional secrets. He was beginning to suspect that the ancient workers of the court did more work than the seemingly (at least, relatively) simple task required. The first day, he figured that there must be another way up and down from the dome, otherwise, how would the original builders leave easily? He had found it. A small trapdoor, with the same key hole. This time the key was sitting next to it, like it had been there just waiting for him. An old iron ladder was there, and at the end of it 2 doors. One that led outwards, into a secluded back alley, and another facing inwards. He hadn’t tried that one yet. Best to be careful here.
At least there was likely nothing would happen if he did get caught inside. In one sense, he was supposed to be here. Perhaps not here here, but he could play it off as “exploring” or “getting turned around” if he was discovered. After graduating with the highest degree in art he could afford, he had travelled to the capital city. The bright jewel of the land, the acclaimed City of Justice.
There had been a contest when he was still in school, and somehow , he had been chosen to paint the largest section of blank wall in the building. Something that would stand for the people to see as they passed through. Justice being handed down, truth being unveiled, the triumph over evil. That was part of why he had come up to the dome in the first place, he had seen it from so far below, and wanted to study the details hardly anyone could make out from the ground. Though to be honest, that wasn’t the only reason he came. For one, it was a way to escape the pressure. The mural loomed like a daunting figure, reminding him to get on with it. This was a way to clear his head, and get some ideas by watching the proceedings below. Most days, rather boring. The accused stayed silent, and while he usually sympathized with them, he couldn’t fault the logic the prosecution displayed. This was what he was supposed to represent, without even being allowed in the court. Only those invited to come were allowed after all, even if they were a commissioned painter.
And so, climb he did. It had always been one of his talents, getting into places and situations he surely wasn’t meant to be in. Somehow, it always worked out, much to his mother’s consternation. “One of these days-“ “my luck will run out, right?” His mother had given him a piercing glare. “For your sake, i certainly hope not.” She had just finished tying off his bandage from a cut he had gotten, doing something that, yet again, should have killed him. And yet, he’d hardly sustained a scratch. That was the luck he had counted on while climbing, and although he didn’t plan on it, it was going to be needed again soon. Very soon.
Leaning against the wall, he studied one of his favorite murals. The details were harder to see at the angle he was in, but it looked like someone was being threatened by a dozen or more knives, while one stood between them, sword and shield in hand. In defense, and opposition. It spoke to him in a way he couldn’t fully describe, and he wondered why it had been painted up here, away from everyone’s eyes. Suddenly, his stomach growled. It was growing dark, and from the few voices below, it must be time to finish for the day. Standing up, he made his way to the small keyhole and descended once more down the ladder. The trials today had been interesting, and he managed to come up with several ideas for some details in the painting. The shared thought came, though neither prosecutor nor artist realized. “A good one for the books.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, he had barely set out when he heard the screams. That didn’t sound good. Without hesistation, he took off running towards the sound. “No- It- i was - I didn’t do it!!” He heard a woman’s voice say, sounding near tears. Rounding the corner, he stumbled into the main market. An early morning crowd had gathered to see 2 palace guards marching the woman, barely a teenager by the looks of her, through the crowd, and up toward the direction of the palace. Her robes were splattered with… was that blood?
There were still shocked and stifled murmurs of “diabolical,” and “knew there was something strange going with that girl,” but he ignored them, watching the newly arrested prisoner and her guards carefully. She was looking around frantically, and as they approached Phoenix, she locked eyes with him. He must have looked astonished and confused, and just a little pitying. She stared at him, tears running down her face, and the nearly silent words that left her hit him hard. “Help me.”
Phoenix stared, dumbstruck, as he watched them take her away. Why would she ask..? After all, there were never mistakes made by those arresting. Everyone knew that, and moreover, everyone knew that there wasn’t anything they could to stop justice. Unless…
He tried to speak and it came out too quiet. He paused and then spoke again, a little louder. S-stop! Um. WAIT!” He yelled, pulling out of the throng of people who were now looking at him curiously. “What did she- what did she do?” One of the guards, the one holding the girl, looked back at him and sneered. The other seemed almost sheepish. “Sorry pal, we’ve got our orders. Do you know her?” He said, indicating the girl. She was looking at him, surprise written evidently on her face, and he wondered if she had even said anything in the first place. “W-well, i mean, no…” the first guard snarled. “Then BEAT it kid. We’ve got places to be. Come on, Gumshoe.” They turned and continued their march. “But- wait! What did she do?? She couldn’t have done… that much…” Without turning around or stopping, the first guard said “Murder. in the first degree. Obviously.” The other guard- Gumshoe, apparently, looked in his direction apologetically but kept moving. Phoenix stood frozen, feeling nearly helpless. The last he saw of them before the crowd moved in again between them was the girl’s eyes fixed on him, fear written clearly across her face.
“Help me.”