text; un: m. edgeworth

[jurisprudence]

It has quickly become apparent to me that my office is in need of dire need of a bailiff. Accordingly, interested individuals should submit their credentials directly to me or inquire in person at the location below.

[Here he lists the street address of a public building at the edge of the city of Camelot, near the Dusklight Woods — presumably some sort of rural courthouse or administrative building that primarily services the farmlands to the north of the city.]

Be prepared to offer a concise but detailed explanation of how you would maintain order when presented with the following situations:

1) One (or several) wild chickens have been set loose in the arbiter's chamber.

2) A claimant has chained themselves to the the bar with a length of tow chain and refuses to unlock the same until their demand for satisfaction has been granted.

3) A claimant, impatient for their turn to be heard, has assaulted a fellow waiting claimant by striking them upside the head with a large gourd.

Serious applicants only.

— M. Edgeworth


[So Edgeworth has gotten himself a job in public service mediating disputes among the NPCs, Judge Judy-style. It, uh. Certainly is going, for him. Does he even have the authority to do hiring like this? Probably not. Is that going to stop him? Nope.]

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[theonlyrealthing]

[Oh shit this is hilarious. And a better job than trying to communicate with animals for people-- maybe that he can do in addition to being an animal mediator. Ugh.

So he shows up at the address provided in his nicest local clothes-- he traded away his Gilboan suit pretty much immediately upon arriving at the castle, wanting to fit in and not be stared at for once-- and heads inside with a confident, I'm-the-prince kind of smile.]

Mister Edgeworth?

[jurisprudence]

[As resident Courtroom Animal Mediator Jack will summarily be tasked with the resolution of all chicken-based disputes. By simply asking the chickens what they want. It's perfect. Also Edgeworth really hates his life.

He looks right on the verge of being out of place in his little office; the furniture is rough and mismatched, but arranged in an exacting sort of way, giving the impression that the person who set it up is precisely the fussy sort who knows exactly how he wants things and determined to have it so, no matter what he's stuck working with to get it.

Miles Edgeworth is twenty-five years old, clean-cut, dressed immaculately in suit and cravat, and looks as though he's about three seconds away from murdering somebody with a fountain pen if he doesn't get a decent cup of coffee. When the knock comes at the door, he calls for the person waiting to enter, but doesn't get up from behind his desk — which is positioned so that he's facing the entry, able to see anyone who walks in simply by lifting his head from his work.]

I'm Miles Edgeworth. Come in and shut the door.

[theonlyrealthing]

[Good god, the man isn't any older than he is. ... he might actually be younger. That's going to be a little awkward.

Still, twenty-six years with his father means he knows how to play nice with just about anybody. He shuts the door, folds his hands behind his back, and lifts his chin, not quite like a soldier reporting for duty, but definitely more formal than the room deserves. Miles Edgeworth seems like the kind of man who'd appreciate that.]

My name is Jack Benjamin. I'm here about that position you advertised.

[jurisprudence]

[He's good at keeping a straight face, that much is for certain, but he does nod slightly in approval before motioning Jack toward...regrettably, a wooden bench pushed up near one wall that's doing its best imitation of a couch.]

Good. Have a seat.

[The fact that he doesn't say "please" is less that he's deliberately being rude — it's apparent from his tone that he isn't — and more just that it didn't really occur to him that he might need to.]

Have you worked in the judicial system before?

[theonlyrealthing]

I studied the judiciary rules and practices of my own kingdom, though I am aware the laws here might not be the same. I helped audition cases for my father's annual Judgement Day docket. And I prosecuted a military tribunal against a traitor for the king.

[He's just not going to mention that the case against David all hinged on false evidence and lies. He did the right thing, in the end.]

[jurisprudence]

I see. Then as one prosecutor to another, I should tell you that you can likely do better with those credentials than a mere bailiff's position.

[He motions vaguely to his humble, yet strictly correct, office setup.]

There are other positions like mine. I'd be a step up — perhaps more aligned with your talents. You shouldn't undersell yourself.

[theonlyrealthing]

Maybe. But the last time I tried to take on a lot of responsibility like that, I wound up imprisoned for the indefinite future.

[Of course, that was when he was trying to be king... and his father wasn't actually as dead as advertised... and apparently God hated him? This is not the same situation. ... He's still leery.]

So I think starting smaller is a better option until I've got a better idea of what's going on with this place. Learn the rules, get a sense of how often we're going to be sent out to do things for the king. That sort of thing.

[jurisprudence]

...Imprisoned.

[It's not like he's one to talk, given the whole "being accused of murder" thing, but — hm. Casually expressed or not, that's not an admission he can just write off lightly.]

Perhaps you'd better elaborate on the circumstances of your imprisonment. What were the charges?

[theonlyrealthing]

[Oh is it time to get into all of this? Of course it is.]

Treason. My father, the king, was shot in the chest by a terrorist. We thought he was dead, so I was prepared to be crowned king in his stead. It turns out he was less dead than we thought, and took it poorly when I didn't immediately step down when he... let us know. By taking over the local radio stations and calling us all traitors.

[Nevermind that Silas had made himself very unpopular through that sham trial, nevermind that his uncle had control of the military and was trying to use Jack as his puppet king, nevermind that he had probably saved his father's life by taking the first bullet himself.]

[jurisprudence]

[Ah. Fathers. It's been a year now for Edgeworth, and he still hasn't entirely shaken off his own sour memories of legacies and machinations and sons being set up to take the fall for things they may or may not have had any control over.]

I see. So, treason "in the eye of the beholder", and you just had the misfortune of having the beholder be an ill-tempered king with the power to do something about it.

[Which is...still not great, but it's an explanation.]

[theonlyrealthing]

It's still treason whichever way you look at it, I guess.

[He shrugs, and dredges up a smile that manages to look decent instead of pained. That whole situation was just awful, but the prince is nothing if not good at putting up a good smile.]

So, I'd rather avoid putting myself solely in charge of anyone else's fate for a while, if it's all the same to you.

[jurisprudence]

Yes, I suppose so.

[Hmm. Again, that's still...not great, but. As he takes a minute to regard the man in front of him, he can't help but think briefly of Lana Skye and her impassive dignity — the burdens she carried, the weight of her sins, and in the end, her resignation to her fate, however the external forces at play may have affected it.

Hmmm.]

Then I suppose it's equally significant to ask whether you're comfortable putting yourself beneath my command, and the decisions I make. Are you willing to do that, given what you've just told me?

[theonlyrealthing]

As long as you're don't act like my father or my uncle, I think I can manage.

[He smirks a little at that, but lets it fall quickly enough for the serious answer.]

I was on active duty in the army before everything that happened... happened. I know how to take orders without mouthing off.

[jurisprudence]

Rest assured, my paternal instincts are all but nonexistent.

[He kind of pauses after saying that, which is...probably an indication that it was an attempt at a joke. A very slight amount of levity. He's trying.]

Very well, then. What about your availability? Sessions run from 10:00 AM through 4:00 PM five days a week.

[theonlyrealthing]

[After many, many state dinners with ambassadors and council members who thought they were funny, Jack recognizes it and gives the requisite polite chuckle.]

The only work I'm doing right now is when I can get it, when people need someone to talk to their animals or find a lost pet or something. I can be here during those hours, not a problem.