"Justice is conscience, not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole of humanity. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice"

--Alexander Solzhenitsyn

King Edmund the Just exited his courtroom with an overwhelming feeling of peace and finality punctuating each step. His court transcripter, a faun by the name of Rorim, hastily drew the velvet, royal blue curtains across the glass windows in the diligent, specific way that fauns do; Edmund had come to the realization in his past five years at Cair Paravel that fauns are extremely orderly (sometimes to the point of compulsion) and attentive creatures. Edmund had merely gathered his documents and strode from the room upon closing the case, eager to take advantage the rest of the summer evening with his horse and friend, Philip. His cases had been few and far between lately (they often seemed to slow down in the summer); his last one had been a land dispute between two dwarf clans. Usually small land disputes wouldn't have been taken to the isolated court, but merely resolved by him and his four siblings, and rather swiftly, he thought, as they had grown into their monarchical positions comfortably in their first five years. This settlement, however, had been quite involved, especially since he had quite a ways to go in learning the cultural and historical aspects of each dwarf clan, and dwarf customs had factored so heavily into the case. He thought he had solved it quite amicably, even earning a few words of praise from each side. He was pleased; his verdicts usually went over well with the general public, but it wouldn't have been the first time he had been impugned by angry Narnians with certain special interests in the case. He chose not to think about those times. Each courtly decision was greatly deliberated over, sometimes delivered after nights of lost sleep and with dark bags settling under his eyes. As much as he hated delivering an unpopular judgment, he hadn't regretted a single one so far. Aslan had breathed upon him when he decided to become a judge and endowed him with the confidence to display mercy and justice to his subjects, such as he received from the King of Kings himself. It seemed fitting, he thought, that the reformed traitor give Aslan's forgiveness to those who had sinned.

"Ed!" He heard his brother calling to him as he exited the court chambers. He was startled out of his thoughts by the jovial exclamation. He sighed inwardly. What he wouldn't have given for a quiet ride with Philip. Peter thudded down the stone corridor towards him.

"Ed, wake up!" His flushed face appeared in front of Edmund, cutting of his escape attempt.

"Hey, Pete. Been hanging around with Lucy lately?" he asked wryly.

"More like avoiding her. I swear to Aslan, we need to get some food in that girl soon or we'll all go insane with her," he huffed. Lucy had recently begun a three day fast, drinking only water, and eating small amounts of bread in commemoration of the five year anniversary of their coronation and official end of the White Witch's reign. She said it was to cleanse herself as she thought of Aslan's blessing upon them. She didn't mention his sacrifice in place of Edmund, but he knew she was thinking of it. While he was eternally grateful to Him, Edmund often tried to keep his mind away from that moment in his lifetime. It often crept into his nightmares, and dealing with it at night was more than enough than to have torturing thoughts during the day.

"She's cleansing, Peter," he replied sardonically.

"I really don't understand how this helps her grow closer to Aslan. If I was her, I'd be thinking about food all the time."

"That's all you think about, Pete," Edmund teased, and his brother elbowed him lightly in the arm.

"So who won, Mountains or Reds?"

"You know, it's a bit more complicated than that. Give me some credit at least; I'm not judging a jousting match."

"Oh, don't worry, Ed. I fully understand the laborious process it is to divide two identical pieces of land between two nearly identical dwarf tribes."

"Idiot," Edmund muttered, smirking. Suddenly, the two brothers heard quick footsteps and a muffled bickering that was steadily growing closer. Edmund felt Peter pull him into the nearest chamber and peered out an opening in the door at his quarrelling sisters.

"You can't get me to eat, Susan! I don't care if I look too thin for suitors because I'm not seeing any for the next day and a half. And there are much more important things that should be weighing on our minds, don't you think?! Do you hear me, Su?"

"Oh, but Lucy, Prince Nol is here from Archenland, and he is ever such the sweetheart. Please, Lu, just a bite. You wouldn't want to make a bad impression, would you?"

"Susan, I'm cleansing."

"Yes, I know, but—"

"Cleansing!" Lucy shrieked and stormed off down the corridor. Her normally cheerful disposition was gone in lieu of her fast, and they had avoided her all day. She would be back to normal soon enough. But for now, it seemed the Pevensie brothers had resorted to hiding in bathing chambers to escape the wrath of their younger sister. A few puzzled cats peered up at the two stricken monarchs from the marble baths, and the young kings quickly exited in embarrassment, bursting into laughter as they spilled back into the corridor.

"Come on, brother, take a break from your duties for a little while. We'll get in a little sword practice and surprise Oreius tomorrow." Peter slung an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"I was going on a break from my duties. Just with someone decidedly less sword-happy," Ed smirked.

"Surely not a naiad, Ed?" Peter asked with a smirk. Edmund blushed.

"'When I'm older,' what a load of toss," he grumbled to his brother. "I'm older now. I suppose I'm a bit…intimidating to them?"

"You go on thinking that, Ed," Peter laughed in response. His brother scowled goodnaturedly back.

"Well, I was going to go for a ride with Philip and get away from you three. I can't get peace and quiet anywhere. And Lucy's only made it worse."

"You're turning into an old man, Ed. You've got to lighten up or you'll turn into Oreius soon," he said, the last part in a slightly lower voice in an irrational fear of his omniscient trainer hearing the jab.

"Hmm, how old do you reckon Oreius is, anyway?" Ed asked amusedly. He was the most physically fit centaur they had ever met, always ready for a sparring match, but his mind was that of an experienced and wise creature.

"Who knows?" Peter laughed. And with that, the two brothers ventured outside into the breezy Narnian air.