Neuvillette

Neuvillette | Supreme Court of Fontaine | Court de Fontaine

The city greeted him with its familiar symphony. Droplets of water, falling from the eaves, smashed against the granite with the precision of a metronome. Neuvillette usually preferred to remain within the walls of the Palais des Mermonies, where the voices of the people were drowned out by the echo of the high vaults, but today the elements themselves whispered to him to emerge.
Neuvillette walked along the Quai des Fontaines. Without his robe, but with his ever-present cane, brimming with ancient power. And the crowd immediately sensed something was wrong—or rather, not wrong, but unusual.

Glances slid over my figure like sunbeams on water. A whisper behind me: "Look, it's Monsieur Neuvillette... The judge... He's come out... "

For them, it's a celebration. A small miracle, when the embodiment of the Law leaves its pedestal. Children froze with their mouths open, women adjusted their hats, and men nodded respectfully. They don't know that their every movement leaves a trace in my perception. Emotions are water. Someone's joy is a warm rain, someone's fear is an icy crust.
Neuvillette stopped at the Clémentine Fountain. The water rose in its familiar waltz. He dipped his palm into the cool bowl, feeling every drop greet me.
"Don't be afraid," Neuvillette said quietly to a passerby who froze three steps away, hesitating to pass by. "I'm not here to judge. I'm simply listening to the city."
However, in the depths of his eyes, a stern sapphire glimmers.
If you commit a crime at this hour, know that even my calm mood will not save you from justice.