The magistrate's paiban struck again, its thunderous boom frightened the suspect. Before the hall knelt a trembling figure, a petty thief who was dragged forth by the city's lawmen. The officers reported that the wretch had stolen a jade necklace, a family heirloom.
"Your Honor," one officer intoned, bowing with due deference. "This cur seized a woman's inheritance and threatened her children to secure it."
An improvised shiv was presented before the inscrutable judge. Shan, unperturbed, continued his meticulous record, committing every word and gesture, including the crude weapon itself to ink on parchment with unwavering fidelity.
Silently, Mayumi watched the scholar at his work, her gaze fixed upon the meticulous calm with which he conducted the proceedings.
"Y–your Honor," the thief stammered, voice trembling into a pitiable whine. "Y–you must understand, I acted for a selfless cause. For the good of the whole world!"
A hush fell upon the hall, not the reverent quiet of respect, but the brittle stillness that follows an utterance too foolish to dignify with response. Even the air seemed to recoil. Shan merely recorded the man's justification with the same dispassionate precision one might devote to a weather report. The judge, after a measured pause, inclined his head and ordered the officers who are still momentarily stunned to proceed with the sentencing.
Seventy heavy strokes shall be administered with long wooden canes. For this occasion, the thickest will to be used.
"M–mercy!" the thief squealed, his voice cracking into something almost inhuman as he was dragged away by the very officers who had delivered him here.
Within moments, the hall resumed its rhythm. Cups of freshly brewed tea were distributed by the courthouse attendants, simply locals hired to perform some light work with surprisingly better pay. Yet beyond the threshold, the first cries began.
Ragged, piercing yelps that carried unmistakably across the courtyard outside. Satchiko rose, drawn by equal parts curiosity and disdain, she drifted toward the entrance. A small crowd had already gathered under the sun, clustering in quiet anticipation to witness the swift machinery of justice.
"The audacity," she muttered about the now punished thief, questioning the flimsy excuses of even daring to justify the act.
"Indeed, he has strayed well beyond his station," Shan replied, stepping beside her near the hall's entrance, his tone mild but edged with quiet censure. Mayumi just followed the scholar as he spoke. "By now, pupil, you should recognize the cost of disturbing this city's concord, a fragile rarity in an age as chaotic as ours. Depending on how far you go in the years of education, there might even be the unlikely day where you must be the one to issue such punishments. So, beware of the law, and especially its dire consequences."
The pupil almost struggled to utter an assurance, merely nodded quickly.
Another strike fell. Then another. The officers worked with mounting vigor, each blow landing with a dull, punishing thud against the thief's flesh and bone. The severity was unmistakable, yet in the eyes of the court, not excessive. Even the most obtuse observer could discern that theft, by its very nature, could not be transfigured into virtue. Those who would dare to glorify it might do well to contemplate such convictions at the graves of their own heirs.