Dominion of Almajoya v. Blake Taipara
Morning of Day 1
The sun beamed gentle rays of light into Melisma’s room, rousing her from her fitful sleep. She was immediately aware of what day it was. Months of preparations had led to this day, and the seemingly endless string of days that would follow.
The day after she’d returned safely- the day that she had been re-crowned- she had expected to discover a new world of mutual respect and dedication between her and her government. She had learned much during her brief experience, and she was eager to start making changes. Despite getting little sleep (as usual), she had entered the emergency Parliament session with a smile and a pleasant attitude. She had hoped that her fresh outlook would spread among the politicians before her, and encourage them to behave similarly.
But as the day- and then the week- dragged on, Melisma realized that nothing had truly changed. In fact, everyone acted as if her kidnapping had never happened, and especially as if she had not been responsible for any of it. That was not the response she wanted. She was ready to accept her mistakes and correct them; Parliament wanted to gloss over them. The only tangible difference in the room was the empty chair that was usually occupied by the Senator of Aralia Parish.
The same was true of her own staff. Like Parliament, they had presented her with the same problems, and posed the same questions. Especially annoying was the heir issue. “My Lady, when are you going to get married and produce an heir to the throne?”
Melisma was not in the mood to entertain those thoughts, and she had no intention of backsliding. During her first month back in office, she fired ninety-five percent of her staff, seventy-five percent of Parliament’s staff, and everyone above the rank of “officer” on the police force. She replaced those workers with applicants selected carefully by a board of advisors including her and her fellow Xaymacan leaders.
She then instituted another major change- one that she would not relish, but that had to be corrected. Early that same month, a security team headed by Archon Robert Ryan Fortier~Hexx of Tanaara arrived to revamp and train Melisma’s security krewe. Melisma officially named her new security the Imperial Guard, but casually, she and everyone else who saw them in action called them Melisma’s Ninjas- they had so perfected the art of unobtrusive observation.
Other, less noticeable, changes took place as well. Melisma quietly shelved her Crawfish Act. She appointed a new General of the Army and reorganized his position to be considerably smaller. She also had to appoint a new Senator, but at the end of that first week, no one had shown any interest in the seat. This was because the politicians of Almajoya were scared.
They had good reason to be. Previously, Almajoya’s politicians had been coasting along under Melisma’s considerably lax governing style. When Melisma instituted her changes, they correctly interpreted her message as: I’ve grown up now, and I’m taking everything more seriously; I expect you to do the same. This had the less reputable senators and representatives shaken to the core. Some of them resigned for unspecified reasons, which didn’t bother Melisma; they had saved her the trouble of having them removed. But she was still faced with the problem of finding a senator to replace Sullivan Yuki.
It wasn’t until after Yuki’s funeral that Melisma found any leads. The next week, she appointed the former mayor of Sardonyx, Ciaran Rachmaninoff, to Yuki’s vacated chair. Rachmaninoff had been a refugee from Snowy Egrets, and if it had been up to her, he wouldn’t have won the seat; but, as it was, no one else was going to take it willingly. So Parliament found itself with its first naturalized Senator.
Melisma blinked and rubbed her eyes. That precipitously long thought had cost her two minutes. She hauled herself out of bed and went about her usual procedures.
Two months before the trial began, with the approval of the District Attorney, two handwritten letters had been sent out of Almajoya via international air mail:
To: Ms. Samantha Smith, Fatatatutti Department of Labour
Please let me start by thanking you for your part in my rescue. I presume that you have realized that I was the woman you were dealing with. (If not, surprise!) I apologize for my behavior that day, and will refrain from listing several excuses for it. I am also sorry that you got caught up in the mess in the first place, and hope that your impression of Almajoya on the whole was not soured by the experience.
I invite you to help me put the
Additionally- on the lighter side of things- I would like an opportunity to acquaint you with the real Almajoya, a peaceful and beautiful land. I can assure you that you will be completely safe, as our security forces have been vastly improved. Also, I will cover any and all costs of your trip, including airfare and hotel expenses, although you are welcome to stay in my palace, Sanctus Aidenn.
I hope you will take me up on this offer. I am anxious to dispel any misconceptions you may have about my country and my government.
Sincerely,
Melisma Ramijozana
Empress of Almajoya
A similar letter had been sent to Dr. Meru Gaia of Tanaara, with an additional request of an ear scratch for Frik and Frak.
Jerome Sakamoto arrived at the courthouse early as usual. Despite the many cases he’d argued there over the years, he always felt that he had to reacquaint himself with the building. A devout Almaiya, he believed that if he connected with the courthouse’s many spirits, they would guide him throughout the trial, helping him to earn the guilty verdict Taipara deserved.
And that Sakamoto deserved. Months of planning had gone into the trial- well, theoretically, it should have taken years, but the bureaucrats had a strange way of speeding things through when the Empress and the former General of the Army were involved. He supposed that the case had taken just as long on the defense’s side, but there seemed to be so much more involved when one bore the burden of proof. But perhaps he was just a bit bitter from bearing the “burden of proof” for five years of being Aralia Parish’s district attorney.
The case had gotten off to a rocky start. Finding an uncompromised judge- one who had had no dealings with the Empress or the General- had proved difficult. Every time Sakamoto had suggested someone, the defense shot it down because the judge had had this or that to do with the Empress; whenever the defense had suggested someone, Sakamoto did the same because the judge had had some important interaction with the General. Finally, they had settled on a judge who was fairly new to the District Court- on the condition that the defense appoint one of their junior partners to the case, since the lawyers themselves had employed the judge at one point in her career.
That had been followed by the indictment and plea. Those had gone as expected. Then the defense had presented a motion to dismiss. “The defense feels that Rayleigh Johessman was unqualified to lead the investigation, and that all charges against our client should be dropped.”
Sakamoto had rolled his eyes. “I’ll allow that she wasn’t trained by Almajoyese standards, but she was Lady Emperor at the time. That was her prerogative.”
Judge Ishikawa had thought it over for a moment. “Denied. The Johessmans were supreme rulers during the period in question; the law demands that we accept their methods of running the investigation.”
Sakamoto had bowed and turned to leave when his adversary added: “Then the defense moves for a change in venue.”
Ishikawa had given the attorney a strange look, tilting her head. “Forum non conveniens? Your reasoning, Counselor?”
“We feel that finding an unbiased jury in the victim’s territory will be difficult.”
“That’s no reason not to try. The crimes took place in Aralia, and almost everyone involved is an Aralia resident. Motion denied.”
The door opened, interrupting Sakamoto’s reverie. The defense attorney, Jill Maeda, entered. He bowed to her, and she curtsied. “The big day,” he said.
“So it is,” Maeda answered. She was young, and still radiated hope and patience. Obviously she hadn’t been an Almajoyese lawyer for very long. “May justice persevere.”
“Indeed.” Sakamoto shook her hand, and they headed inside to take their seats and gather their thoughts before the trial began.