Usually, the result is feeding the remains to the giant eel that inhabits the ocean around their home island. In the naive mind of the pupil, she wonders if Ba Sing Se have some kind of great beast of their own that plays a similar role.
A few of the younger lawmen could not suppress their grim enthusiasm, their lips twitching at the bluntness. But Satchiko had misjudged the gulf between a provincial village and a city steeped in wealth and hierarchy.
The Naqie patriarch erupted at once.
"How dare you!" the old man thundered, his voice laced with indignation as he rounded upon the younger officials. Then, turning his ire toward Shan, he sneered. "White Scholar! Your pupil is devoid of virtue, and bereft of propriety! Such wretched instruction can only breed disorder—"
Slam!
The sharp crack against wood cleaved the air. Magistrate Bao struck the table with decisive force, silencing the tirade mid-breath. Though he continued to examine the documents presented, eyeing carefully inked attestations proclaiming the Naqie heir's innocence, no flourish of calligraphy could sway a magistrate who prided himself on incorruptibility.
"Elder," Magistrate Bao said at last, turning his gaze upon the kneeling man. "State your name, station, and relation to this matter, fully and without omission."
The man bowed his head low, grief and deference warring within him. When he spoke, it was with the quiet resignation of one keenly aware of his place beneath the towering clans of the Upper Ring.
"Your humble servant is Le Tiqian, father of Le Hongniang. My kin and I are but farmers of the Agrarian Zone." He paused, wiping at his eyes with a trembling hand. "All my wife and I have ever wished for is a simple life for our daughter, to see her wed to an honest man of our village, to raise children in peace."
"And what dealings has your family had with the Naqie household?" the Magistrate asked, his eyes flicked briefly to observe Naqie Fu's subtle reaction.
Le Tiqian swallowed, his sorrow deepening. "We have long supplied their household with rice and grain. Every family in our village contributes to their stores. It has been… a prosperous arrangement, passed down through generations."
"G–generations?" Satchiko echoed, her confusion plain.
The magistrate turned to Shan, seeking illumination on this particular matter. The White Scholar, after all, is reputed for his breadth of knowledge concerning the myriad customs of the Earth Kingdom, or at least the more well-known ones that have contact with this city. It seemed only prudent to draw upon his expertise.
"Your Honor," Shan began, inclining his head with measured respect toward Magistrate Bao. "This matter is not unfamiliar to yours truly. There existed indeed a longstanding accord between the progenitor of the Naqie lineage and the people of Mu He Village located in the Agrarian Zone. By the records, this arrangement stretches back no fewer than five dynasties, a lucrative arrangement of at least a millennium."
Magistrate Bao's thick brows knit further at this revelation, his expression darkening. Whatever sanctity such an ancient pact once held, it is plainly no longer suited to the present.
"Summon the accused," he ordered.
The chamber fell into a suffocating hush as the suspect was ushered in. The two constables entrusted with his escort showed little regard for gentleness.
Naqie Lai, sole heir to his house, is brought before the hall clad in garments of exquisite silk, its finery ill-matched to the gravity of the moment. The young man offered a flimsy, almost careless greeting to the magistrate, seemingly oblivious that each unguarded word might well be his last.
"Heh, no wonder he turned to such depravity," one of the younger officers muttered under his breath, gaze lingering with undisguised disdain.
Indeed, the accused is not the finest specimen. Wealth and ornament proved poor disguises for a natural countenance that inspired little admiration.
"Naqie Lai," Magistrate Bao spoke harshly. "You stand accused of violating a woman's virtue. How do you answer this grave accusation?"
At once, it became evident that the true architect of the defense was not the son but the father. Naqie Fu made a subtle gesture, urging his heir toward rehearsed assurances, words no doubt crafted in advance to disarm the court.
"Naqie Fu," the magistrate cut in with displeasure. "It is your son I address. Do you presume to interfere right before my presence?"
As Shan recorded the exchange with steady hand, the patriarch stammered out an apology. Yet the father offered an explanation cloaked in practiced eloquence, claiming that the young heir suffered from congenital afflictions that clouded reason itself. It is an incurable malady beyond the reach of herbs or acupuncture, one that forever barred him from sound judgment.
"Your Honor, my son was born impaired, and not even the best healers from the Northern Water Tribe can cure him," the patriarch said persuasively. Though, considering more of those healers are also women, it only raised more suspicious glances in the hall. "I beg the court to grant a father leave to speak on behalf of his child. Across the realm, courts have shown leniency toward those deprived of proper reason. I humbly petition that you extend the same mercy to my unfortunate son."
Once more, the White Scholar is consulted. Though the magistrate is more than capable of reciting the laws of Ba Sing Se, there is no harm of allowing a fresh graduate to demonstrate some expertise.
Shan folded his hands within his sleeves before replying. "It is true that many systems of justice temper punishment with compassion when the accused is deemed unsound of mind. There are even instances in the western part of this war-torn realm where those guilty of the most grievous crimes have been absolved upon convincing the courts of their supposed insanity."
He paused ever so slightly, and when he resumed, more educated minds might remember that the White Scholar isn't exactly fond of Upper Ring intricacies. A learned man's tongue can sometimes be even more dangerous to an affluent household's reputation than a sharpened blade, especially towards those who even mildly offended his ability as a scholar.
"However, yours truly cannot help but entertain a certain suspicion. It is conceivable that Young Master Naqie Lai's wanton indiscretions may stem not just from affliction, but from defective lineage. Records seem to suggest that the current matriarch of the Naqie household may in fact be an unaccounted offspring of the previous patriarch, who was documented as being scarcely discreet of infidelities reminiscent of the current Ximen Qing."
It was a brazen assertion, one that in a single stroke affronted both patriarch and scion alike. Though the Magistrate found such insinuations distastefully coarse within the sanctity of an official court, he could not wholly dismiss the possibility. Yet plausibility was not proof, and in the absence of substantiating evidence for so grotesque a claim, the accusation could not be admitted as testimony of the suspect's alleged derangement.
"White Scholar!" Naqie Fu cried, his voice quavering with indignation. "Why must you inflict such cruelty upon my family's repute?"
Shan did not flinch. With measured composure, he disclosed that the Naqie household had once approached him in private, entreating him to compose a declaration that would attest their son to be afflicted with an incurable malady of the mind, thereby absolving him of any culpability before the court. It seemed the patriarch had either forgotten or chosen to disregard the scholar who felt the title of Zhuangyuan is squandered upon such undignified purpose.
The other scrolls presented by patriarch earlier for review also told their own sordid tale. Upon closer inspection, the magistrate discerned the hallmarks of desperation in every brushstroke. These are the work of scholars whose need for coin had eclipsed their scruples. Each document argued with fervent insistence that Naqie Lai lacked the capacity for criminal intent, or outright championing the blame to be transferred wholesale onto the victim, who is painted as a temptress that had ensnared a 'righteous' young man.
"Your Honor, the woman who has ensnared my son is a notorious vixen," Naqie Fu pressed on, his tone sharpening with conviction. "She coveted the wealth of my esteemed family and has lain with nearly every man in Mu He village, and beyond. Her intent must surely have been to—"
"How dare you!"
Le Tiqian surged forward, fury ignited and would have flung himself upon the patriarch had the attending lawmen not seized both arms and restrained him with practiced efficiency. Order, after all, must be preserved. This is still Ba Sing Se, not some lawless expanse like the Si Wong desert or the murk of the Foggy Swamp.
Unperturbed, Magistrate Bao continued his examination. The documents, without exception, echoed the same refrain. The victim, Le Hongniang, is a corrupter of men, a stain upon the moral fabric of Mu He village. Shan, when consulted, merely asserted that he had not been entrusted with nearly so many particulars as the scholars who had agreed to help the Naqie reputation. Although, it's possible that more would have been revealed if he had feigned readiness to assist.
The judge's gaze, intimidating by nature, lingered upon the patriarch. Sensing the shift, Naqie Fu straightened, as though recalling a gambit concealed up his sleeve.
"Your Honor," he began again, this time with renewed confidence. "We have secured a witness, one who can attest to the depravity of this woman that sullied my family's good name."