#usual stuff

and that's why he's the best, favored by His Imperial Tyranny, favored to win the case of the century, of millenia, of all time: to get a martyr and an iconoclastic rebel out of the death penalty. it wasn't the first time the odds were against him, of course, but it was the hardest case he had to study; why would anyone side against the Empire?

clearly, my client was acting in perceived good.

it meant nothing, but the crowd murmured excitedly. his client was bound, beaten, gagged. the vibrancy of the red dripping onto the carpet made his stomach turn.

for this reason, we ask to prove to you goodwill, your Tyranny.

the monster at the podium shifted, it's chitinous scales clicking almost imperceptibly suddenly strident in the held breath of the hall. nothing moved, and the moment carried on for a lifetime. he felt himself straining against the withering glare of the gathered court imperials, against the oppressive, sticky-hot air inside the hall.

he had never lost, not since he was in training, when losing wasn't a sentence in itself.

his mouth was dry, his shoulders shaking and sore. sweat pooled in the soles of his shoes. he could survive prison. he had a fund, secret and untouched. he could disappear before they got to him. it was cowardly, but it wouldn't be losing.

the verdict slid past his ears, like only those around him could hear it. there was screaming, and as he turned, he was grabbed by an imperial guard. his client was being walked out, head down, and he couldn't breathe.