Petitions & Pragmatism

The woman, Noemi, made an appearance at the Cylinder of Justice a few days ago. She brought her petition to have the property on Sixth Street in the District Anbar, the former Muse Cafe, returned to her. My investigation into the death of the former proprietor, while thoroughly conducted, lacked the testimony of an eye witness. Strictly speaking, the woman is a manumitted bred slave. If I wanted to pass judgment based upon circumstantial evidence, there is little or nothing she could do. I had made the assumption, however, that someone would come forward and offer the damning testimony required to support the charges. No one came forth. She was acquitted. Her petition was filed, as I have said, and it seemed to have all of the supporting documentation necessary for such a thing. Cleared of all charges, she had the right to sue for the return of the property bequeathed to her, save one thing. At the start of this investigation, she eluded questioning by submitting herself to someone she entrusted not to make the loss of status permanent. When she submitted herself, the property was in the custody of the city. The validity of her claim was being investigated. However, as a submitted woman, a slave, she forfeited everything the moment she surrendered her freedom. Therefore, upon regaining status as a free woman, nothing was due her, certainly not property in the custody of the city.

Having explained this to her, she seemed a little disturbed. That is unfortunate. She is a delightful woman to be around, if a bit tempermental. I do not blame her. The stock of the house that created her have always been highly sensitive, emotional beasts. Such women, untended, living without discipline, are prone to recalcitrance, to outburtsts. She simply needs to be beaten; reminded she is a woman. All women, from time to time, require it. I have a girl, for example, a curvy thing I dress in plain rep cloth, that is beaten every time the stripes from her previous correction have faded. It is cruel, some might say, or irrational, perhaps, but 'some' do not own the girl. I do. The point of that digression is simply that knowing she is owned, reminded she is owned, she is a better woman for it. Obedient, even.

When the petition to return the ownership of the Cafe on Sixth Street in the District Anbar to the woman, Noemi, was denied, the property was acquired rather swiftly by Claudius of the Physicians. It makes me wonder, with all the bureaucracy this Administration is shackled with how he was able to broker the deal so expeditiously, but it is beyond the scope of my office to question such things. I happened upon him the night before last, already visiting the still boarded up establishment now in his name. We spoke briefly as the girls Elise, Portia and Six knelt dutifully. He informed me that he intended to take a companion. I am a polite fellow. I offered him congratulations at the news. And when he told me the name of his intended companion, I did not find myself taken aback. Perhaps the fact that the woman he has chosen is without caste would cause some to be startled. The Physicians are an august group, perhaps the second or third highest caste below the Initiates. Companionships are contracted for a number of reasons. The romantic drink the wine to celebrate their love. The pragmatic care little for love. Their contract for companionship is like any other business transaction. They want something someone else has or, more specifically, something someone else can offer. Whether that is something tangible, such as money, land, or children, or something less tangible but no less real. I make no speculation as to why Claudius chose to pursue the woman, Noemi, save that I doubt he is a romantic sort of man.