Untitled

I.i

Perhaps a Rubicon

Judicial Order Headquarters, Upper Archades

"They'll offer you a position as Magister," Prime Judge Drace said, sipping her wine, "now that Zecht's gone."

Ffamran grimaced. "It should be you."

"No. It shouldn't. There aren't too many Nabradias left. We'll be taking on Rozarria soon, and brute strength will no longer do. We're going to need thinkers, and you, young man, are a consummate thinker."

"You've been in the service longer."

"I've been a nursemaid as much as a judge for ten years now. I'm out of practice, Ffamran."

"None the less, you would have gotten the job if I hadn't been promoted to Prime." Ffamran had risen through the four ranks of lesser judges in record time, starting as a Quartrinary when he was sixteen, fresh from his year early graduation from the Akademy, despite his lack of formal training. Judgeships handed out to the family of any noble who happens to be in favor at court. Just one of the myriad things, he though, that are wrong with this system. A thought flashed across his mind, almost to fast for him to catch, and it made him set his own wineglass down and take a deep breath: Just one of the things I could fix.

"So, will you accept the position?" asked Jalin Rakans, the third of the Primes who had been under Zecht's command.

No one would turn down Magistership, but Ffamran Bunansa had proven time and time again that what seemed to apply to everyone did not necessarily apply to Ffamran.

Judge Bunansa looked into his colleague's eyes, looked beyond, into his own future, his country's future, even.

"Yes."