Satchiko lingered close to her sister as they accompanied Shan into the courthouse, a structure of imposing grandeur when compared to most Lower Ring buildings. The entire compound was enclosed by high walls, its main gate flanked by a great ceremonial drum. Thus, it is believed that any commoner burdened with more serious grievance might strike it with fervor, summoning the attention of the local magistrate within to impart justice for those felt wronged.
Eventually, they entered the main hall itself, passing the more mundane lawmen of the city who are responsible for addressing petty crimes rather than grave cases of sedition.
"Judge Bao," Shan intoned with a respectful bow, addressing the formidable figure presiding at the desk on a slightly elevated platform.
Even one as provincial as Satchiko could at once discern the man's authority. Clad in sombre black robes and adorned with the official headwear granted to those who had passed the Civil Service Examination, the magistrate bore a naturally severe countenance, one that no doubt struck dread into the corrupt and unscrupulous lurking within the city.
Today's proceedings, it seemed, required the White Scholar to serve as a temporary scribe. As Shan had explained on their way here, the judge's most capable retainers were presently absent. Ordinarily, there is four honor guards and a singularly formidable bodyguard, who is individual once on the other side of the law. Yet that cohort had been dispatched beyond the city walls to investigate another matter.
"Pupil," Shan gestured.
Satchiko, momentarily transfixed by a strange set of ornate metal instruments displayed within the great hall, stirred at once. She could not name their purpose, though their design suggested no benign use. Quickly, she moved to join her sister beside Shan's writing table towards the end of the hall.
As for the judge himself, the young Kyoshi Warrior's attention is once again captivated, but of course reserved about her thoughts. The magistrate's complexion was darker than that of any Northern Water Tribe member they had seen within these walls. A distinct crescent-shaped birthmark also adorned the forehead. Quite conspicuous, yet not enough to set him apart from the vast multitude of the Earth Kingdom. His voice, when speaking to newly arrived messengers and the present lawmen in the hall, carried the effortless cadence of the official dialect.
Despite the hall's austere atmosphere, Satchiko found herself entrusted with a more modest duty. While Shan took his place near the magistrate's desk with brush in hand, and Mayumi stood not far beyond, the girl was tasked with replenishing ink and paper. Such supplies would be swiftly exhausted as every exchange between accused and magistrate demanded meticulous transcription. Even trivial disputes, petty quarrels between neighbors or haggling turned sour, could fill pages with their ceaseless back and forth.
"Yours truly is prepared, honorable Magistrate," Shan declared with his usual tone.
Almost at once, a lawman at the entrance ushered in the first case of the day. Two men entered, a fishmonger and a blacksmith, whose adjoining shops had clearly bred no small measure of resentment. The blacksmith in particular voiced his grievances loudly, decrying the pungent odor of fish that drove away potential customers, worse still, disrupted the delicate harmony of local Feng Shui.
"Wait," Satchiko murmured, narrowing her gaze. "I have seen this part before."
Shan inclined his hand in a subtle, almost sacerdotal gesture, bidding the pupil to silence. All the while, his brush moved with unbroken composure, transcribing whole strands of dialogue upon parchment with the same unthinking ease as breath itself. The magistrate for his part attended to the dispute with measured gravity, weighing the grievances of the two tradesmen against the unyielding strictures that governed this formidable city. To the uninitiated, the proceedings might have seemed little more than theatre, an elaborate farce enacted beneath lacquered beams. Yet to outsiders and educated members of Ba Sing Se, such mediation is a merciful duty. Better to arbitrate quarrelsome citizens than to confront the unspeakable carnage that seethed beyond those colossal walls.
Inevitably, the petty contention degenerated into farce of a cruder sort, a reminder that despite the austere dignity of this hall, its hours were most often consumed by the trifling hostilities of common life.
"Your Honor, this stench of a—"
The blacksmith's protest was cut short as the fishmonger, with startling audacity, produced a fetid carp from within his robes and struck the fellow full across the face. The judge's expression darkened, less in surprise than in weary disappointment, as the lawmen stationed outside the hall were forced to surge inward and quell the sudden brawl.
With a resounding bang of the table, the magistrate brought down his wooden paiban, the sharp noise cleaving through the chamber like a bolt of judgment. The sound alone was enough to jolt the quarrelsome pair into stunned silence, even the two Kyoshi Warriors stationed near the dais stiffened, momentarily discomposed by the force of it.
When order was restored, the magistrate pronounced his sentence with finality. For their disruption of public concord, both men would be duly punished. The blacksmith, indignantly attempted to protest, but the judge silenced him with a curt reminder. The testimonies of the courthouse's lawmen did not cast him in a favorable light. Prior incidents spotted during regular patrols painted a pattern of mutual provocation, each grievance feeding the next until it spilled inevitably into violence.
There would be no appeal. Any further disturbance would only invite harsher censure from a magistrate whose patience had already been taxed.
As the scholar completed the final strokes of the record, Satchiko edged closer to her sister, her voice scarcely above a whisper. Such a squabble, she remarked, would never invite so severe a reprisal back home. Once again, they were reminded that the world beyond their island operated by different principles. Though in certain grim respects, not so differently. There were times when their own mother must stand as judge, jury, and executioner alike.
"Pupil, more paper please," Shan murmured, replenishing his ink with habitual precision.
Satchiko did so. As she crossed the hall, her gaze lingered once more upon the trio of metal contrivances. Now in clearer light, their forms resolved with unsettling clarity.
One bore the likeness of a humble hound.
Another, a ferocious feline of elevated pedigree.
The last is a serpent, though wrought with a certain terrible regality.
Each was fitted with fixed blades, poised to descend in a single, irrevocable stroke.