"Hello, I am Neuvillette, the Chief Justice."
The tall figure stood before Rover like a straight pine tree, imposing and dignified. Words like "majestic," "solemn," and "grand" suited him perfectly. His eyes were sharp, but the moment they met, he concealed his edge, revealing only an unthreatening sheath.
If judgment could represent justice—like the beam of a scale, balancing kindness on one end and sin on the other—then Neuvillette was the one who held that scale. He walked among mortals, scrutinizing every case with a discerning gaze. In all his trials, the verdicts had never contradicted the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. He was the very embodiment of Fontaine's justice.
Rover respected such a person. The moment they shook hands, Rover's initial impression of Fontaine shifted slightly.
At least there were still those who treated the finality of life with reverence and solemnity.
Meanwhile, the Hydro Archon, Furina, quietly observed the group from behind. When eyes turned to her, she strode confidently toward Rover, basking in the crowd's cheers like a star under the spotlight, displaying divine grace with flawless theatrics.
"Lady Furina!"
"Lady Furina!"
The cheers grew louder, the people showering their beloved god with adoration. Aether felt uneasy amidst such unrestrained enthusiasm. Among the four nations they had visited, no other archon had ever revealed themselves so openly and extravagantly.
Fontaine truly was different.
"Heroes from distant lands, I, Furina, cordially invite you to the Opera Epiclese."
Rover frowned slightly, about to speak, when the Shorekeeper's timely voice whispered in their ear.
"The Opera Epiclese, the grand opera house on Erinnyes Island, is also a symbol of judgment and justice. It hosts performances as well as trials."
Neuvillette nodded, slowing his pace to walk beside Rover as the crowd parted under the guards' guidance.
"Allow me to explain the Opera Epiclese in more detail."
He glanced at Furina, who was still engrossed in her dramatic performance with no intention of explaining anything to their guests, and sighed inwardly.
"No need. I've already researched it beforehand."
Rover declined with a smile, their gaze briefly shifting to the Shorekeeper without breaking stride.
Neuvillette adjusted his tie and engaged in casual conversation with the two as they waited for the aquabus.
"Why hold trials in a place meant for entertainment?"
Aether's question gave Neuvillette pause. It was familiar—one he had been asked countless times over the centuries.
Truth and illusion, farce and tragedy—all unfolded equally on the opera stage. Perhaps, as an ancient Fontaine playwright once said: "The world is but a stage, and all men and women merely players."
Neuvillette gathered his thoughts and answered solemnly.
"It is a necessity of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale."
"This machine is designed specifically for trials, possessing its own consciousness to accurately judge all crimes. It also serves another vital purpose: during trials, it collects the people's faith in 'justice' and converts it into 'Indemnitium,' which powers Fontaine's most densely populated and entertainment-rich areas."
Rover understood. If faith collection was the goal, then public trials were necessary. Yet, there was a dissonance:
According to the Shorekeeper's intel, trials in Fontaine had long been reduced to mere entertainment. This stripped away the solemnity and reverence they once held.
Rationality and emotion, logic and absurdity—two extremes manifested in the same event. Such a contradiction would rarely be accepted in reality, yet Fontaine had achieved it. Why?
After some introspection, Rover quickly arrived at an answer.
Because of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale.
In the people's minds, it had to be infallible—an unwavering symbol of impartiality, an untouchable standard. The moment its authority was questioned, entertainment would overtake the other extreme, rendering trials meaningless.
"Of course, this time, we're not taking you to a trial—but to a magic performance."
Paimon's eyes sparkled at the mention. Furina, who had been silent until now, cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention.
When it came to entertainment, this archon seemed omniscient.
"Mr. Lyney, upon hearing of your arrival, has prepared a grand magic show at the Opera Epiclese."
Magic was a form of public entertainment—white doves flying from black hats, dazzling card tricks, and illusions that defied logic. Such performances made people question whether the laws of physics had been bent or if the magicians themselves were even human.
But Rover knew the essence of magic lay in misdirection—guiding the audience's gaze where the performer wanted, then unraveling the trick step by step, playing on their innate curiosity. When their focus naturally reached its climax, the most unbelievable moment of the act would unfold.
Such a mesmerizing and mysterious spectacle heightened Rover's anticipation for this leg of their journey.
"The aquabus has arrived. You may continue your conversation aboard."
Neuvillette's quiet reminder snapped Furina out of her excitement, and she promptly straightened up, leading the way onto the vessel.
Onboard, the seat beside Rover remained empty—until the Shorekeeper took it.
"I've gathered some local rumors. There's an old prophecy that many Fontainians know, and it strikes me as odd."
Rover lifted their gaze, watching the city's silhouette in the distance and listening to the gentle flow of water beneath the passage. Seagulls skimmed the calm sea, stirring ripples in their wake.
Yet, the calmer it was, the stronger Rover's unease grew—like the stillness before a storm, or the fleeting peace before disaster. This foreboding had clung to them since arriving in Fontaine, a weight pressing on their chest.
"One day, the waters of Fontaine will rise, drowning and dissolving all its people. Only the Hydro Archon will remain, weeping on her throne. Only then will the sins of Fontaine be washed away."
The Shorekeeper's voice softened, echoing in Rover's mind like a distant whale's song, calling through the mist. As if waving away the fog, Rover envisioned towering waves, a colossal shadow swallowing the city, crashing forth with unstoppable force.
If the flood was coming—where was the ark to save them?
Rover's mind buzzed, fragmented images flashing before them: flames engulfing buildings, desperate cries, eyes filled with despair. These visions dragged them into the abyssal depths, where the ruins of Atlantis lay submerged, as if all civilizations were doomed to fade into history.
Suffocation seized them. The deep-sea pressure crushed their lungs, darkness closing in—until…
"We're here, we're here!"
Paimon's excited voice yanked Rover back to reality. Gasping, Rover glanced around, their breath quickening.
"Did something happen again?"
The Shorekeeper looked at them with concern.
Rover shook their head, discreetly wiping the cold sweat from their palms as they gazed at the approaching Court of Fontaine—a city forged in steel.
A premonition told them that the source of their lingering dread would be found here.