The Lost Scribe of Justitia

The Grand Showing: Dietfried

     Grand Showings had been a part of Dietfried Baugainvillea's life ever since he was old enough to attend them on his own.  His father was a non-believer of such documents, and, therefore, declined invitations, but in the most polite way possible. One did not want to overly offend the wrong people. 
        Dietfried found the documents utterly fascinating. True, one of a kind, works of art.  He made it a point to tour every estate that housed one. As of tonight, he would have seen 338 documents all over the world, the oldest one dating back 85 generations.
       As he entered the grand entrance of the Rykindella estate, he slipped his right hand into his right trouser pocket where the jade koi statue resided, always by his side. 
Another Hollenburg Grand Showing, my darling Alexandria. This one ought to be quite interesting one way or another. . . He thought, caressing the ridged spine fin of the statue with his thumb. Yours was his first. May the gods grant this not to be his last. . .nor mine.
           The Duchess Amelia Rykindella greeted him personally with a genuine joyful smile. "Dietfried!" she called, hurrying over to him, and stopped just short of flinging her arms about his neck. 
            There had never been a time when she did not seemingly enjoy his very presence. He supposed he reminded her of her childhood home, long before the war, long before being married off to a man a quarter of a century her senior. Those long ago days made them both nostalgically sentimental toward each other.
           "Ah! Our most lovely Amelia." Dietfried greeted, kissing both her hands together, as one would do with a girl child, then looking about at the fine decor professionally placed for the Grand Showing.  "My word, Amelia! You've outdone yourself!"
          "Of course I did! Can't be in tomorrow's paper with negative reviews of my Showing over atrocious decor! If I'm to be in tomorrow's paper, it better be over something worthwhile!"
         Oh, gods!   "Oh, I agree, dear heart." Dietfried brought her hand through his arm and they walked together.
"Just how many of these balls have we been through together, dear Dietfried? At least a hundred. But I shall go to my grave remembering the ball celebrating your brother Gilbert's military graduation. Remember? I practically threw myself at you that night, and I thought I had you, too, but then you made the rounds with all the girls."
Dietfried smiled down at her. "Yes, I remember that party of Gilbert's very well."
"And how is dear Gilbert? Wasn't he starting up a winery on that remote little island he washed up on?"
Dietfried laughed. "That would be Ecarte Island, and yes, he has been in the wine business for nearly ten years now. I have to say, he has made a success of the little vineyard there. The island has enjoyed an economic windfall from it."
"He was never quite one of us, was he, Dietfried?" Amelia mused.
"No. Gilbert was an aristocrat who longed to be the common every man. He has found happiness in it. I sometimes envy him that."
"Oh, but who wants to be common? Not ME!" They approached the crowded grand ballroom. "Dance with me, Dietfried. I want to be your first of the evening."
Dietfried obliged. It gave him the chance to survey the lay of the land. The document display was set up on an elevated stage at the back of the ballroom, but the veiled document still had yet to be placed on it.
He did not try to even look for Petrich and Ms. Fitzhugh. The scribe and his assistant, if he had one, only showed themselves in a great procession into the ballroom, the veiled document leading the way like a precious flag carried by two footmen.
           In front would be the Grand Marshal, who was part of the document and contract division of the high court of the region.  In ancient times there would be a whole panel of high court dignitaries and each would have something of a speech. In more modern times, however, the panel slimmed down to only the Grand Marshal with no more than the traditional introduction.  Irreverent? Possibly. Accepted? Well, of course. The more time guests could eat, drink, and be merry, the better the reviews the next day.
         Amelia was reluctant to let him go, but saw that she had far too many guests to give all her attention to a childhood friend.
         "No worries, dear Amelia," he replied to her pouting, "I'll be about the whole evening to dance with you later."  He kissed her hands once more and gazed at her fondly. Perhaps for the last time, my dear. He thought.
         Dietfried cast he gaze about the crowd and zeroed in on his target.  The Lady Lydia stood beside her Lord husband, beautiful, but almost painfully pale. Dietfried approached.
          "Lord Rykindella," Dietfried bowed deeply, "Your invitation was well received. I appreciate the opportunity to be a guest in your illustrious home."
         Upon straightening up, Dietfried thought he saw a whisper of a smile on Lord David Huxley's lips. A rare sight, indeed.  Dietfried had known Huxley since the Lord was only a boy.  Even then, Huxley was very much a stickler for the pomp of court tradition and Dietfried was of the Old Bloods and, therefore, acceptable, even if  he was from the east region.
        Lord David acknowledged him with a slight nod and gave the traditional response. "Our home is yours, Captain Baugainvillea." He then presented his wife, whom no one was allowed to acknowledge before her husband presented her. "My wife, Lady Lydia."
          Dietfried performed all the necessary traditional 'backflips' (as Gil used to call them), until he finally had Lydia in his arms in the midst of other couples on the dance floor.
         "I trust you have made all the preparations." Dietfried said lowly in her ear.
         "Yes." she replied, having been given telegram messages via Bridget, her baby's nursemaid.
          Bridget Galloway may have been only 16 years old, but had been the saving grace of this entire operation. She had covertly received telegrams from Petrich, which were then relayed to Lady Lydia. She had prepared a travel bag outfitted with everything Lydia would need to travel by train with the baby.
She also procured train tickets and a fake identity to match the name on the tickets.  Bridget Galloway was worth her weight in gold, and Petrich and Dietfried pitched in together to  pay her handsomely for her trouble.
            "I do not know how to thank you and Master Hollenburg enough, Captain Baugainvillea."
            "Thank us with a safe trip east. Sir Otto Luden will be sending a driver to the train station in Leiden.  He knows of your case and gathering everything he needs for litigation."
        Lydia lay her head against his shoulder. "I am afraid." she said simply.
         "I know, darling girl, but you will find yourself braver than you ever imagined once you get going." Dietfried replied, trying his best to use his most comforting tone.
            Then a sound from brass horns blasted through the air from the orchestra, signaling placement for the Grand Procession.
            Dietfried led Lydia back to her husband, thanked him, then put himself into the crowd, hand in his pocket, caressing the koi statue carved from solid jade in order to calm his nerves.
           It did his nerves no good at all to spy among the crowd, not only the Duke's celestial scribe grand nephew,  but also three other scribes from the Woxlichen observatory.