"It lends our trial legitimacy," she rebuts just as rapidly, stepping away to prevent him from belaboring the point any further. "I invite the prosecution to present their opening arguments against Mister Wemberly, so that we might begin in earnest."
Another brief staring contest, but Failinis eventually nods and agrees to her terms. He seems to reassure himself that his case was easily strong enough, stepping back to the center of the stage and tucking his hands behind his back. Meanwhile, Annette shifts her mind back to focus, calling it to thread a careful line between equally passionate emotions: first, that Wemberly deserves no defense, especially not from someone such as her; and second, that Failinis, Darrius, could not be allowed to proceed uncontested. The scope of his plans still lay outside of Annette's mind and were answered only by a speculative and patchwork theory assembled by Cordelia, which Annette had chosen to trust implicitly. There was no other option.
Which was the greater potential for evil? Allowing or even supporting Wemberly's escape, and in so doing, promoting a return to business as usual for Bellchester? Or, ignoring the compelling evidence that Darrius Winchester had, with the potential aid of no less than the wealthiest baron, constructed a false revolution for some mysterious purpose? Cordelia had theories, as always, and so did Annette, but at the end of the day there was nothing but intuition to rely on, and a shared reverence for the sacred Feeling. It consumes her on stage, and she draws upon it once more to guide her proceedings.
"To summarize the guilt I shall place at Mister Wemberly's feet," Failinis begins, pacing at the helm of the stage like a general before his army on the field of battle, "one must first establish this point: to be held in bondage is unnatural for the soul of mankind. Man was not made for captivity, and as such, the experience of such captivity is an experience of violence.
"Further," he pauses, fist on his lips to collect his thoughts and to enable the crowd to rest in his words, "it must be understood that because this captivity is unnatural, it must likewise be unnatural to bend another into such a state. This is to say that it is an act against nature to hold another man in bondage, and because bondage is experienced as violent and unnatural, to capture and control another person is to enact violence."
Annette steals a glance with Mister Wemberly, who for the moment, appears to be grappling with his mortality. Staring at the gallows that have been constructed, he seems to settle into the realization that the noose there was crafted for him. It was not simply rope curled into a delicate knot; it was a skillful peace of craftsmanship filled with the expectation of his neck. He seems, for the first time, actually afraid. Annette's sense of pity stirs frustratingly in her gut.
"It is this very crime of violence I accuse Mister Wemberly of," Failinis continues, "the violence of promulgating the captivity of fellow humans." He clears his throat and treads along to the opposite side of the platform, not directing his speech towards the left side of the audience. "Building upon this, we must likewise establish that not only is it criminal to enact such violence, it must be even more so to profit from it. Hear me, Bellchester, which is worse? Murdering one's brother because a feeling of rage at being slighted has overtaken you, or murdering one's brother simply to steal his inheritance for your profit? If it were me, I could find some reason to justify the former, that perhaps the slighting was so great the action is understandable. I could not, however, excuse the corruption of greed leading one to enact violence. There is no dignity, nobility, or honor in such a deed."
Annette tucks her hands into her pockets as though just remembering that they were cold. She partially regrets not taking the gloves Cordelia had offered her as they left 167 Mill Street that morning. Cordelia, for her part, is frowning as she listens to Failinis. It's an expression that Annette has grown to recognize as a sign of her deep in thought, particularly when she didn't have the answers she so desperately wanted. Her eyes scan the crowd almost frantically, though Annette can't tell what she might be searching for.
Meanwhile, Annette rehearses in her head what she would need to say to combat Failinis. She'd never fully decided how she would go about her defense, torn between two equally unsatisfying options. She could try and honestly defend Wemberly, as repulsive as the thought might be. It's what the collar baron would be hoping for, what he would be expecting for her to do based upon their prior agreement. Annette hardly cares about betraying his trust to gain information, but perhaps she might benefit from not burning that bridge just yet. The other option would be to deliberately construct a poor defense, going through the motions just to be an active member of the events, and try and use that time to piece together whatever Failinis might be attempting. She'd be a passive observer of the events, but she would be there. And she wouldn't entirely lose the faith of the Mallet's leader just yet.
"The culpability of Mister Wemberly in these crimes is not a question of discussion for this trial," Failinis declares, his head swiveling back to glower at the baron for a hostile breath. "Every collar in this city knows and recognizes the guilt that he holds in his deeds. Their contracts sport his signature. Their collars have his fingerprints. Their keys are copied and held in his offices. It would be truly insane to suggest he was not at the center of these actions.
"As such, Bellchester, I ask you to litigate instead the morality of his behavior. He's broken no laws of our government, which is to say that he has not violated the flawed ideology of power and its entrenchments." Failinis nods resolutely, lifting his hand as he speaks to emphasize his point. "The laws he has broken are the sacred laws of humanity, of dignity. I ask that you, our jury, consider the legitimacy of governance as it stands before you. Do you wish to live in a world in which a man such as Mister Wemberly can continue acting in such a way without consequence? Indeed, he's celebrated by our government for his deeds. If you, like me, believe the world ought to look differently than it does today, Mister Wemberly must be held to account. Not by the laws of our state, but by the laws of our nature."
Failinis shares a glance with Annette, which she understands to be his courtesy of letting her know it would be her turn to speak soon. She appreciates the gesture, though it does reignite the shivering in her bones. Her stomach churns uncomfortably as she races to gather her thoughts. She tries to share a look with Cordelia, but the detective is still scanning the crowd like danger could erupt at any moment.
"It is my recommendation that we see this trial as an opportunity, dear Bellchester," the Mallet's leader drops his tone lower, more somber. The crowd pulls forward quietly, enraptured by his every word. "I joined this movement for this very reason, to seize an opportunity for change. The Mallets may not have always been the popular movement of our society, but we nonetheless voice its needs. We are willing to do what must be done to shape our world. So we ask you, our jury, to join us in this mission today, to use your power to assist us in rebuilding a world that is free from the scourges of captivity. We've already ended the slavery our empire feasted upon; let us now end the servitude that replaced it.
"I will now allow my colleague to present her arguments, and I ask that you hear her earnestly and faithfully. She has been a partner in all that the Mallet's have done, and often I find that she is the true voice of all that we are."
He remains quiet for another long breath, looking as though he might have more to say, but he doesn't. Failinis simply turns back to the crowd, almost smiling, and declares, "You must consider Mister Wemberly guilty. The prosecution rests." Failinis steps back, places a reassuring hand on Annette's shoulder, squeezes it, and whispers, "Don't betray us again."
The pressure of his hand on her arm suddenly increases in force, a clear reminder that he was not just an articulate speaker. Annette contorts her face to keep it neutral, attempting to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her nerves. She settles into the understanding of his threat: Annette was already burned in his eyes. There would be no return to the trust she held in his eyes before. By standing up to defend Mister Wemberly and complicating the trial, she was now a target.
And now, the eyes of Bellchester assembled before her fixate upon her, and Annette's mouth runs dry. She takes a timid step forward, searching for her wit and her words that have always served her before... and finds herself unable to bring anything to speech. She opens and closes her mouth, wordless, and tries again with no success. Another attempt fails.
Her hands, still buried in her pockets, begin jittering nervously as the silence pulls forth from the crowd. They're eagerly awaiting her and somehow she has nothing to say. She'd come to rely on the automatic nature of her cleverness, never really needing to think for very long before speaking, but suddenly she finds it is not enough. She talked her way into the largest stage of her life, standing at the precipice of what was surely a pivotal moment in whatever was to come, and now she finds herself unable to meet the moment.
