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Stage left, near the front of the stage, are the main characters: a smug soon-to-be ex-wife, an irate soon-to-be ex-husband, and a stony-faced judge who is probably enjoying the show he’s an unwitting part of just as much as I am.

From center stage, in stumble two Red House workers, compensated very very handsomely by me and about to work the last job of their career before suddenly retiring from the profession and moving to the countryside.

With a spotlight on her, the female lead of our play begins to orate a text that I personally discovered myself from the imperial library. She clears her throat, appearing timid to the audience although her clear voice was anything but.

“Your Honor, there are many clear stipulations in the law about what constitutes as grounds to divorce a wife. Infidelity. Disrespect. Mistreatment of spouse or in-laws. Failure to bring forth a child into the marriage. Shall I list them all?”

“As a judge, I am quite familiar with the law, Lady Berrick,” the judge stiffly pointed out.

“Please, call me Lady Westmont,” she said in response to his faint sarcasm.

The crowd stirred at her maiden name, but more than that, they were fascinated by the two women who had been brought to court and now stood only a short distance away from Lord Berrick who looked like he wished to tear out the throat of any man who made the mistake of coming too close.

His hands are in fists. I remember how those baseball mitt hands had wrapped around my ankle and dragged me back under the hedge to hell a few years ago. And the way, more recently, they had tucked themselves away behind his back as he had made untoward advances towards me. Even as a princess, I couldn’t escape some of the greatest pitfalls of being a woman. So I am going to make sure he suffers greatly for his transgressions.

.....

Lady Westmont continues her speech in an unhurried tone so that the gossip rags and newspapers that are covering this trial can write down every word.

“As I stated, Lord Berrick is impotent. This is one of the few grounds that would allow a wife to divorce a husband. I intend to prove that today. While many laws in our beloved empire have morphed and changed over the years, this oft-forgotten one has not. My lord,” she now addressed Lord Berrick. “You must prove your virility before the court. I have brought you some assistance. Please commence when you are ready.”

Conversation explodes once again.

“Your Honor!” the lawyer shouts, now fighting to be heard above the hubbub.

“Order in the court!” A gavel smacks down twice and the yells before whispers that can’t be stamped out by a mere gavel.

“Your Honor,” the lawyer repeats with a sputter. “I must object. This is... absurd!”

The eloquent man who had rallied the crowd and perspective against Lady Arabella is no more and the judge sees it.

“Absurd? I do not believe that is a valid objection. And this is indeed one of our archaic founding laws that has yet to be overturned,” he decrees. There is a shimmer of respect in his eyes, probably appreciation that Arabella had performed diligent research rivaling that of a law student at the Imperial College.

“Hear, hear!” someone shouts from the crowd, garnering a laugh.

One of the beauties leans across the table. In a loud, flirtatious tone, she commands, “Run me through like you did the dragon, my lord!”

It’s saucy and inappropriate, but an utter delight to watch. The gossip rags scribble every word down, their eyes shining as if they’ve just discovered lost treasure. This scene is just as titillating now as it was when I was watching the inspiration for it in the show, The Borgias.

“I will not do this here.” Lord Berrick slapped the table. “It is unbefitting for a man of my standing.”

“In doing so, you will acquiesce to the charges that Lady Westmont has levied against you. Is that your desire?” the judge asked in a booming voice. He was a man and to that effect, he was a touch sympathetic to the charge Lady Arabella had brought to the table against Lord Berrick. There were few men who would enjoy the title of ‘impotent’ to be placed upon their head, let alone a nobleman of great standing.

“Perhaps he really can’t lift his little lord,” a brave soul titters somewhere in the middle of the seated crowd.

A bolder person chimes in with, “A casualty lost to the dragon during a fierce battle, no doubt. Gone, but never forgotten, least of all by his wife.”

Many people lose the battle against their laughter, a contagious disease that spreads throughout the audience and infects everyone.

“No, I’m damn sure his little man can still fight... with some help,” someone snickered insidiously as the laughter dies down. “The question is, what kind of help did he get? I’ve heard of sorcery that could make a eunuch into a full man for a night. But that would be against the law.”

The theories within the room whipped back and forth like a ping-pong ball, each speculation most outrageous than the last. Public sentiment is very much like a game of table tennis, whipping back and forth between two competitors. Just minutes ago, people were jeering at Lady Arabella. But with a clever flick of her wrist, she had flung the blame back onto her husband.

He has a choice: prove his virility in the most degrading manner known to man in front of a gossiping crowd OR bear the shame and embarrassment of needing mildly illegal medicinal assistance to sleep with a woman.

Neither option is good for a man of his status. Simply being in this position wasn’t good for his status. The Berrick family had only begun to rise in prominence in recent years and lacked the manpower and wealth of other noble families, but they were still a family that had been around for a good century or two, blooming well within the comfortable shade House Duvernay provided their allies.

But a scandal like the one Lord Berrick was beginning to find himself in was still enough to damage their fragile petals that had barely begun to stretch out. A catch-22, that’s what this is.

A cracking sound echoed through the courtroom. The desk had given way crumbling to pieces. Papers upon the desk flutter into the air as if carried by invisible wings. Amidst their flurry, Lord Berrick stands up, all 6 feet and 6 inches of himself, and stalks out of the courtroom. Lord Jasper Berrick opts for no choice and a decision is made for him.

“Let it be noted that the defendant has left the courtroom, thus acquiescing to the charge the plaintiff has levied against him. The court is adjourned for today!” yelled the judge.

“The case can’t already be over, can it?” A younger gentleman asked an older man who seemed to be his father.

“Of course not, you fool. There are more charges to be contested in the coming days.” The man correcting his son then shook his head in disbelief and let out a low whistle. “I had doubted her. But my old mother is right. Even Akira’s wrath cannot compare to that of a woman scorned.”

Everyone in the courtroom trickles out, until it’s just me, my father, and my now audible crunching. Another glance at the public seating proves that I was wrong. There is one soul left, a young man scarcely out of his twenties but still possessing the kind of face that clung to most of its baby fat. He had the endearing look of someone old people would naturally adore. He looks around the empty courtroom with a smile and whistles to himself as he leaves. It’s a tune I’ve heard before, but I, for the life of me, cannot recall where at the moment.

“These are delicious,” I tell my father, showing him the half-eaten cookie in my hand in an attempt to lessen the silence. I could feel a faint surprise emanate from my father at the height of the beautiful disaster that today’s trial had been. But now, he is like a still lake with barely a ripple. I don’t know if he is delighted... or furious.