#{ for the empire } ᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

[tarnishedxknight]

“My dear knight, please take off your helm so I may look at you.” (For Noah)

Noah scarcely understood what Emperor Gramis wanted with the sorceress, or why he had invited her to take up residence inside the palace proper. Divination, the stars, seeing into the future... Noah had no need of it. He placed his faith and trust in his own ability and determination. Fate, destiny, and luck... were only illusions. Men forged their own paths in life. No amount of telling him otherwise was going to keep him from working towards the goals he'd set for himself, not even an oracle.

Nevertheless, Gramis believed in her. So much so, in fact, that he had placed her protection and integration into palace life in Gabranth's care. While he was honored to be granted such prestigious duties, he also silently did not want them. Never would he voice that to Gramis, however.

The Mist inside him from his nethicite poisoning stirred noticeably every time he was around her, clearly affected by whatever power it was that she wielded. Wanda was her name. Gabranth had to admit she was beautiful, but that did not matter. He was only there to protect her as she got settled into palace life, to answer her questions, and to arrange for anything she might need for her craft.

Surely she must have known that people did not simply ask a Judge Magister to remove his or her helm. It just was not done. Then again, for someone possessed of power such as hers, Wanda likely thought she could say and do whatever she pleased. Noah grit his teeth a little, displeased with the sudden exposure of his face as he slipped off his helm and held it under his left arm.

"Apologies, Lady Maximoff. Judge Magisters typically wear their helms at all hours," he explained, in case she truly did not know. He had to keep her happy, though, or else whatever Gramis needed her for might suffer. "I meant no offense," he said finally, trying his best to be diplomatic and polite.

[tarnishedxknight]

Not only did Drace listen quietly while Maris exploded in a grief-stricken rage all over her, but she forced herself to look at the woman while she did so. It would have been easy to order her to silence herself, to walk out of the shop, or to at least avert her gaze. All of that would have spared Drace some of the raw and uncomfortable series of emotions that came along with listening to a refugee of a land no longer indicated on any map of Ivalice because of an atrocity committed by Drace's own homeland. But she felt she ought not to be spared. She ought to listen, to have to listen, to this woman's pain. She should acknowledge, whether it had been at her order or not, and whether it had been what her heart had wanted or not, that she was part of the political and military machine that had destroyed this poor woman's life. Hers... and so many others like her.

And so Drace listened. Genuinely. Intently. Not shying away from any of it. Her heart ached for the woman, truly, and it was at times like this when she felt a lot less proud to be Archadian. Pureblooded, she was. Going generations back in her family, there had never been anything else that contributed to Drace's blood but that of the Empire. To say she was a proud Archadian was certainly an understatement, and yet... at times like this... she was truly ashamed of her homeland, or at least of its governing bodies.

When the woman had stopped, Drace continued to watch her for a moment as she sought to distract herself with the details of the order she... was regretting she even asked to make in the first place. After some time, she spoke. "Continue, if you wish," she said, her tone devoid of arrogance, insult, condescension, or authority. Instead, it was gentle, ashamed, sympathetic. "I deserve your ire and that of all Landisians. We all of us do, of our rank." As does His Eminence, she wanted to say, but... that was crossing a line not even she should ever tread. "So if it helps, continue. If not, we can move from this topic. I apologize for upsetting you."

She was not going to mention this at all, for it might be perceived as some sort of competition for who had had the harsher life, which... Drace would surely lose compared to this woman. But was there some amount of understanding to be found in commiseration? Would it help at all? She supposed not, but if she was not shying away from laying herself bear and vulnerable to this refugee's rage, then she would not shy away from this...

"I was born into poverty, in Old Archades," she shared. "I lived there until my seventeenth summer, when I joined the military. My father was a Judge Magister before me, but he did not want his family living in the palace. He knew we would be ridiculed if we had. When his debts were paid, he said, then... we would have earned our place. Mine is a noble House. It has been for two centuries. My paternal grandparents, however, lost the family's wealth to a series of ill-informed land investments. They lost everything... estate, land, equity, all... everything but our name, and it has taken two generations to even begin to clear some of those debts. My father gave almost his entire salary to debt collectors for many years before he fell in battle. I continue now in his place. I help support my mother and three younger siblings with my salary. My family does and work within the palace at present, but only by virtue of my station which, due to my sex and the prejudices within the military that come along with it, was harder won for me than for most."

She was quiet for a moment, and then, "I do not pretend that my life has been harder than yours, or that I have lost more, or endured more. Such comparisons are pointless. Suffering is not a competition, it is an ever-present and unfortunate hume condition, not to be romanticized or at all revered in a game of one-upmanship. I mention it simply to say... I know well the hardships of living in Old Archades, and I am truly sorry that you and others have been forced to endure it."

Drace was glad when the woman seemed to allow the conversation to shift to other things, and the smile she gave at the mention of Maris' cousins was only because she knew it would please her to hear that they lived. After all she'd just heard, didn't she deserve a little happiness? The way Maris' demeanor changed drastically after Drace shared this information with her very nearly broke her heart.

Her question only served to break Drace's heart further. "Of course," she replied. "Write down your address and I shall deliver it to him immediately. Or... you may accompany me to the palace. I see no reason why he would not wish to meet with you since, as I've said, he remembers you fondly. Whichever you are more comfortable with."

Perhaps she ought not to have mentioned Landis, especially in such a sentimental tone. Maybe she went too far with describing what she remembered and how the tapestry before her had evoked such images in her mind. Along with the guilt of that dark moment for the Empire that was the obliteration of Landis and the majority of its population, Drace how carried the guilt of triggering one of its survivors. She truly felt badly about that, but at the same time, the emotional response the woman had, even as she tried her best to conceal it, was the proof Drace needed that she was indeed speaking with a survivor of that day.

Refugees of Landis enjoyed a protected status within Archades proper. Their religious rites and other assorted cultural practices were legally protected, and their businesses were eligible for monetary awards to help encourage their success. They even paid lower taxes for their homes than others. It was all part of Emperor Gramis' attempt to somehow smooth over what had happened and to come out appearing the protective savior of what was left of these people. It was obvious and rather insulting, Drace thought, but then again, it was benefitting the survivors, so who was she to judge it?

But this protected legal status, host of business incentives, and cost-of-living relief attracted opportunists, charlatans, con artists, and others who claimed to be of Landisian blood in order to reap the benefits. If this woman had simply adopted the name of Gabranth's cousin in order to claim these benefits for herself, the reaction to the simple mention of her supposed homeland would have been met with flippant apathy, politeness, amused dismissal, or perhaps a quip or two. Reactions no one who had been there amidst the horror of that day would ever think to express. Drace had seen it many times before, in fact. It was disgraceful, and Drace had prosecuted several individuals over the years for attempting it.

This woman, however... had not reacted that way at all. No, hers was a reaction of visceral sadness and trauma, the very same she had seen from Gabranth on rare occasions. She was, indeed, Landisian. Now it only remained to see if she was the exact Landisian Drace was looking for.

With such a reaction, though, Drace had half expected this woman to lash out, curse her, verbally throw her out of her establishment, or otherwise give her a piece of her mind. None of that actually occurred, but if it had, Drace honestly would not have taken it badly. She was representative of the imperial machine that had destroying this woman's homeland, and so, to some extent, she was well deserving of her ire.

Instead, Maris told her not to burden herself, and that dwelling on it would do no good. "On the contrary, I believe I should be burdened by it. The whole of Archadian leadership should be. If we choose to unburden ourselves in favor of turning a blind eye to what we have wrought for our own selfish comfort, how shall we ever ensure that it does not happen again? Indeed we have not dwelled upon the fate of Landis nearly as much as we ought to have. Nabradia's recent fate has been terrible proof of that," she said, her tone both disappointed and regretful.

Drace had never been one to hold her tongue or to truncate her words whenever they might not serve her well. No, she would always speak her mind, whether it got her into trouble for doing so or not. Fortunately, right now, Bergan or Vayne or others who might have reported Drace for her words were nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, she let that conversation rest where it was, for she could see the woman was not very willing to continue it. And why should she be, especially with the likes of Drace?

As their chat turned back to the ordering of a tapestry, Drace nodded. "Five weeks will be fine, as will the size. Simply write up a bill, and I shall deliver the partial payment you require by the morrow," she said, eager to make this process as easy as possible for Maris. There was no need for a huge, rushed tapestry to be made, after all. Standard procedure would suit her mother just fine. When asked what name the order would be place under, a prompt response was given. "Drace," she replied, even spelling it for her so there would be no misunderstanding.

Maris then answered her question regarding her twin cousins and Drace listened intently to her fears regarding their fates. Drace could not keep the smile from her face. "Mm," she said, and for a moment she pondered only informing Maris about Gabranth, but... no, that would not be fair to her. Although Drace bore Basch no love, it was not her place to assume that word of his survival would not be taken well by Maris. "I wanted to be certain, so that I would not cause unnecessary pain if I were mistaken. Allow me to update you, then. You have twin cousins. Perhaps you have heard of my colleague, Judge Magister Gabranth? 'Twas he who told me about you. He remembers you quite fondly, and has much the same fears regarding your fate and you have for him."

A pause, and then, "And the other, Basch, lives in the Kingdom of Dalmasca, to the southwest. A knight, he is, or so I am told." And that was all she cared to say of him. "Gabranth will be very pleased to know that his cousin has survived. He does not otherwise have any surviving family to which he is close," she shared, not realizing that that statement would probably come as a shock to Maris, as would the fact that the twins were no longer even living in the same land, since they had been very close as boys.

[tarnishedxknight]

“There’s nothing going on between me and Gy — Judge Ynarra,” Thor lied through her teeth. She knew they hadn’t exactly been the most discreet about their relationship, not to anyone who knew them well, but her heart thumped in her chest. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, she thought grimly. “It would be unprofessional and ruinous to us both. I have a duty to fulfill, and so does she. You of all people would understand that, I should think.”

((@notyourdumblonde from Thor for either Gabranth or Drace!))

@notyourdumblonde, @disillusionedjudge

Gabranth had merely asked the princess what she'd needed that was so urgent she had to be out wandering the palace halls at this late hour. He was used to being one of the only few left awake at such a time, and so it was odd to see the princess about, and even odder to see her so nervous about it. Thor's response had told him everything he needed to know.

So... Thor is having an affair with Gylfie. Who was he to judge, really. Well, a Judge Magister. But regarding personal matters, he would be a hypocrite if he told the princess she ought not to sneak about and carry on with a Judge, considering he himself was engaged in an equally clandestine relationship with Drace.

"I do," he replied, stepping close to her and keeping his voice down. "But I also understand the consequences you would both face, were it to become known. Your secret is safe with me, my lady. However, a warning: do try to be more discreet in the future. For your sake as well as Judge Ynarra's."

[tarnishedxknight]

New Blood, Old Name || closed reply

{ @disillusionedjudge, cont'd. from here. }

The appointing of any new Judge Magister was cause for extreme caution in Gabranth's eyes, but this appointment had been... unconventional to say the least. Although it was not unusual for the title to be passed down in a family, House Ynarra had already had two Judge Magisters existing at the same time, until quite recently, in fact. And now they had a third. Though, perhaps that wasn't entirely accurate, for the first two were no longer holding the title... on account of them being deceased.

The circumstances of this succession... troubled Gabranth with something upon which he could not quite place his finger, but that wasn't why he was here. Fairly certain that, if there was any foul play afoot, it was localized to the toxic dynamics of House Ynarra alone, his interests now lay in assessing just how much of a problem the newest Judge Ynarra was going to pose him... and Lord Larsa. The rift within House Solidor grew ever deeper by the moment. Soon it would split asunder. His job, his duty, his word given to Gramis, his desire as Judge Magister, and his desire... as a father... was to protect Larsa and make certain he would be the one to ultimately sit upon the throne of the Empire.

Few Judge Magisters were awake at such an hour besides Gabranth. Actually, none were, save for if Bergan was agitated enough by nethicite-induced mania to not even know what time it was. Gabranth, however, in addition to a slew of other reputations, was known for being a night owl. Even his beloved Drace was asleep by this time, though she would rise a few hours earlier than he in the morn. But he had noticed... that this new Judge Ynarra also burned the midnight oil in pursuit of her duties.

He slowed his footsteps as he approached the door to her office - well it was hers now, was it not? - so that she would not have warning as to who was at her door. Gabranth wanted to catch her as unawares as possible, to ensure that her reactions and answers were as truthful as they might be from someone not expecting to be approached at this time. Upon knocking and being invited in, however reluctantly, Gabranth opened the door, let himself in, and closed it behind him. Now in private with her, and seeing that she was without her own helm, he played the game of courtesy and making himself appear more unguarded than he actually was by removing his own helm. He tucked it under his right arm with a well-practiced motion.

"Good evening, Judge Ynarra," he said with a respectful nod. His expression was polite enough but by no means smiling. Professional, yet with that certain aloof, nearly-regal quality that set him apart from others of his rank. At least, in public. Behind closed doors, well... no one but Drace was privy to that study in how emotional damage and trauma broke a man down. Here, he was calm, collected, and certainly calculating. And he knew... knew... that she would do well to entertain him with respect and as much of her time as he wished, for despite being a Judge Magister, one as new and young as she still had to bow to the unspoken leader of her rank.

"I have come to extend my personal congratulations to you on your ascension to the esteemed rank we now both share," he said, casually looking around what was once her father's and brother's office. "Forgive my tardiness in doing so. I was away, tending to important matters, when first you were appointed." And I was watching you closely. "I am certain that Dalmasca will become a truly indispensable asset to the Empire with you at the helm of commerce."

Ah. There. Now. With those required pleasantries and a benign lead-in to his true reasons for being here out of the way, Gabranth moved in to strike. "You must be both excited and honored to be working with His Lordship so closely," he said. After a moment, his gaze stopped looking idly around at met hers. "...with... bringing the Kingdom of Dalmasca to heel under Imperial rule being Lord Vayne's... pet project, after all."

And now, a study. Of her facial expression. Her body language. Her breathing. Even how quickly and how many times she blinked. All pieces to a puzzle he was seeking to complete as quickly as possible and with the greatest of urgency felt. Was she... loyal to Vayne and to the cruelty and violence that had become House Solidor's calling card? Or was there... a crack to be found here? A deviation from the norm of House Takrin that might indicate that the reason this Ynarra was now Judge Magister may be because she had not agreed with her father and brother... or with Vayne...?

Was she... a potential ally to him, and to Larsa? Or was she to be kept even closer than that... as close as enemies ought to be?

[tarnishedxknight]

Despite his courage, Larsa was fighting with himself to not mumble. "Erm... I do understand the concept of a percentage... But as soon as it is applied to numbers not of 100... I am afraid I can't picture them in my head..." He showed Gabranth the paper where he was tasked with determining 24% of 387. "I... Is there a formula for this I can remember instead?"

Gabranth smiled underneath his helm. "Alas, there is not, my lord. You must simply perform the calculation each time. The word 'percent' literally means 'per every cent,' with 'cent' meaning 'one hundred.' One... out of every hundred. So to calculate 24% of 387, you must take 24 to the hundreth place and apply it to 387." He rose from his desk once more, taking a scrap of paper with him. Using the boy's writing implement, he wrote 0.24 x 387 on it. "The decimal accounts for the percentage, to the hundreth or second place past the decimal point. So if you multiply 0.24 by 387, the resulting number will be 24% of 387. But that you must do on your own."

[tarnishedxknight]

"I was unaware that my attention had been on Judge Drace at all this day," Gabranth said curtly. This day? Maybe not. But the early morn. Well, define day. She'd stayed the night in his quarters and left early, but... perhaps not early enough. One of the only other Judge Magisters to share Drace's impeccable work ethic and thus her desire to rise with the sun each morning was Zargabaath, it seemed.

And even if my attention had been on her, what-all business is it of yours? Gabranth wanted to say, but... no. Zargabaath was still an ally, more of an ally than any other Judge Magister aside from Drace, to be sure. And so he refrained from letting his tone becoming too blunt or biting with the man.

The talk of ships caught him somewhat off guard. Is this a diversion or a true issue, he wondered? Soon, though, his fellow Judge Magister had his full attention, for it appeared that a real safety hazard was afoot with the new models of Light Cruisers... "Two," was his short answer, waiting for more information before he continued. The news was unwelcome at best, and he was irritated that he had not already been made aware of it by his usual eyes and ears he always had about.

"Mm..." he hummed, processing the actually very valuable information he had been given. "Very well. I will alert their captains and have them grounded for maintenance immediately," Gabranth said. And then, reluctantly, but well-deserved... "Thank you, Zargabaath. I have been occupied with matters of great importance of late, ones that eclipse even the safety of our newest airships, I am afraid. I was not aware of the defect. I will address this forthright."

Now... what, if anything, should he do about the fact that Zargabaath was painfully aware of his relationship with Drace? "There is nothing formal occurring between Judge Drace and myself," he sought to clarify. "I've neither the time nor the desire for such trivial matters of the heart," he said very, very coldly. It was not true. At all. His heart was Drace's, wholly and completely. But he needed to protect her... and Larsa.

@tarnishedxknight - continued from here

Gabranth's mildly defensive response was far from unexpected, and Zargabaath was grateful that his helm hid the amusement clear on his expression. He certainly succeeded in gaining the Magister's attention, which was what he needed, and... well, he was commonly thought of as boring, so why not have a bit of fun every now and then?

"Her? Nothing, 'tis you who will determine the number of airships you have if you cannot keep your attention off of her," he corrected - barely able to keep the amusement from his tone, though it was shortlived. His expression turned more serious beneath his helm, and while his voice remained even, he could not hide his scorn as he spoke next. Thoroughly disappointed with Archadia's upstart airship provider. "Did you have one or two of the newest Light Cruiser-class models added to your fleet? A defect in their glossair rings has been discovered after incapacitating several ships." He stifled a sigh. "Fortunately, if caught early enough, repairs can have them back in the air within the same day. I sent an urgent notice to all the Magisters, though I had yet to hear back from you, Your Honor." And Bergan, but that was less than unusual, and Zargabaath was not in the mood to try and reason with him.

"To delay repairs will result in those airships stalling. We have yet to have any accident with that, and I would prefer it to stay that way," Zargabaath continued in a voice almost monotone, as it oft became when he spoke of work. Common, predictable. Ever the model Judge Magister. Whatever suspicions he held regarding the relationship between Gabranth and Drace were shoved aside in favor of checking off another task, and, really, he had little care of it as long as they were able to keep to their duties without issue. "If I may, I would like to send a few of my engineers to work with yours to sort out the issue."

[tarnishedxknight]

The Oddest of Visitations || closed with mxrvelouscreations

{ @mxrvelouscreations, for Leah }

Gabranth's pace was quick and purposeful as he made his way from the palace out into the Imperial City of Archades proper. His attempts to dismiss being summoned to deal with a merchant's complaint were met with pushback by a simple imperial guardsman, which had Noah bewildered. Other Judges handled dealings within the capital, not him. Not... unless it was warranted that a Judge from Archadia's spy division attend to it, which he was assured it was. He would not go without explanation, however, for he was much too busy to deal with idle complaints.

Gramis' throne was barely cold and yet Vayne sat upon it, with order among the rank of Judge Magister being held only by the spilling of Drace's blood. Gabranth had not the time to fully process the emperor's death or Drace's - and his own feelings regarding them both - or how his vast network of information had failed him so gravely as to miss Vayne moving into position far earlier than expected. This assassination attempt should have been prevented, and the fact that it had not... had cast doubt on Gabranth's efficacy as head of the 9th Bureau. Still, he held onto his power and authority... for now.

And then there was Basch, and the surprisingly resilient Princess of Dalmasca. Gabranth needed to know where they both were, and quickly, and needed to manage the mess he'd helped Vayne create in Dalmasca. If the princess intended to wage war on the empire, then it was his duty to assassinate her as he had her father. It was a lot to balance within one tired and tortured mind, perhaps too much for him to deal with all at once, and yet he'd been doing his best. And now... this.

Apparently, an odd woman had been seen in one of the markets. She was strangely dressed, with a foreign accent, and seemed to be very much disoriented as to where she was. Whether or not her confusion was an act remained to be seen, but whispers of Rozarrian spies were circulating and had been for years now. The arrival of this woman only served to stir them up again. A merchant had reported the woman wandering the market and alerted the imperial guard. Given the nature of the report, Gabranth was requested to investigate further.

His heavily armored footsteps struck the cobblestone streets of Archades loudly, and people made way for him wherever he tread. They got out of his way, greeted him respectfully, and then whispered as he passed, speculating on the reason for his presence. There were always those who loved to gossip about what crime had been committed each time a Judge Magister was sighted. Gabranth was thankful for his helm, for it meant he did not have to smile, nod, or make eye contact with any passersby. He was in no mood to be cordially social.

As he neared the location, he took in the sights around him. If this was part of some Rozarrian ruse, the woman may be a diversion of some kind. He kept his eyes peeled for anything that seemed out of place, but right now, his instincts were telling him that nothing was amiss. At least, until he saw the woman. Her clothes were definitely odd, as was her hairstyle, but as he viewed her, Gabranth's frustration and brewing anger at the situation ebbed away into nothing. She looked... scared, and genuinely confused.

"Your honor," the merchant and the pair of imperial guards who were with the woman greeted him simultaneously.

"Thank you for your reports," Gabranth said with authority, once again thankful for his helm as he continued to look the woman over. "I shall take things over from here."

"Yes, your honor," the guards said, leaving to continue their rounds of the city. The merchant, however, remained. He was much too interested in what would be said, being an old man whose life was not nearly as interesting or exciting as he wished it to be.

Gabranth's helm turned slowly in the merchant's direction. "That is all," he said firmly, saying without saying that the rest did not concern him.

"Oh, y-yes, your honor," he said, disappointed but unwilling to cross the imposing Judge Magister. He finally hobbled off, back to his wares which his wife was struggling to manage by herself.

"What is your name, miss?" Gabranth asked, his arms resting casually over Chaos Blade and Highway Star's hilts, starting off with introductions to get her to talk a little. The more people talked, the more they revealed about themselves. Even the best-trained spies made mistakes if one kept them talking long enough. "What business do you have here in our imperial capital?" His tone was not exactly friendly, but neither was it accusing or mean. For now, this was just a simple questioning to determine intent... and to discover the reason for the woman's oddness.

[tarnishedxknight]

Larsa blinked in surprise when the Judge started explaining the difference to him. So surprised he almost missed an explanation, his young mind baffled by the fact that important work was set aside so such a simple question could be answered in full. "Oh... Oh, thank you, your Honour, it truly is clear to me now." And because he wished to see if maybe this was but a fluke, he asked yet another question. "As someone who deals with the law on a daily basis, have you ever encountered people who have done good things yet were punished for them?" It was connected to the story, yes, but Larsa wanted Gabranth to keep talking.

@tarnishedxjudgement

Having sheathed and/or replaced all daggers and knives back i their places on his belt or on his desk, Gabranth leaned back against the front of his desk, half-sitting, casually folding his arms inasmuch as he could in armor.

"Mm-hmm, I have. Often, unfortunately. Laws are in place for a reason, my lord. Although there may be rare exceptions on occasion, citizens of the empire are all held to the same standard. They are all subject to the same laws. To exonerate some for doing good things, as you say, while condemning others for doing bad things would be a double standard. It would not be fair. For who is to say where that line between good and bad truly lies? It is subjective. Subject... to opinion. Open to interpretation. Therefore, emotion and subjectivity must not enter into the ruling of whether or not a law has been broken. Sentencing... is where a Judge can be more lenient or not if he or she feels that is warranted. But a crime is a crime, regardless of why it was committed."

There was a pause, and then the horned helm canted slightly. "Why do you ask, my lord?" Was there a greater question or problem at play here, or was the boy merely curious...?

[tarnishedxknight]

Gylfie... tried to focus on the paperwork she had been assisting Drace with, but her pain kept hold of her mind, try as she might to push through it. She knew she was pushing herself too hard and too quickly. She knew she needed to give herself more time to recover from the birth of her daughter, but what time did she have? She could not spend forever in Old Archades with Caelen and Myra, as much as she wished she could. Her absence would be questioned if she had not returned, and her excuse of sudden malady would only work for so long. The weeks with them... would have to be enough, until she could visit again, even though her heart cried to have them both at her side again. To be with Caelen, and to be able to be a true mother to Myra, even though she had been unable to connect with her until she had little time left before she returned to Archades.

She shifted uncomfortably, but remained quiet. The faint crease in her brow, the gleam of sweat on her forehead, and the faint pallor to her cheeks made it clear to anyone who paid close enough attention that she was not faring well - something that only credited her excuse, but... a struggle regardless. In truth, she had barely addressed the obvious wyrm in the room to either Drace or Gabranth - only offering a brisk "she's fine" in regards to her daughter, but... not much else. Not out of distrust, but because she could hardly bring herself to speak of her family she... she could barely have, lest she bring herself to tears. It... it was penance, to suffer in silence and keep mum on what her heart wanted, because she had made her decision, and she refused to accept she was wrong.

But the silence was overwhelming, her pain great, and Gylfie let out a slow breath. Would it do her good to talk about it? Would it be better to pretend she was not living two lives?

"I... I named her after you," she finally said, though her voice was barely audible. A cautious attempt to talk about it. A secret shared with someone she trusted more than most.

(( @disillusionedjudge because I got this in my head and needed to share too sdgfhkjdsf))

{ @disillusionedjudge | Awwww, my heart! Drace is so blown away by this, it's not even funny. }

Although she was certainly thankful for the help, and even though Gylfie needed the training if she was to be Judge Magister herself one day, Drace could be beyond the shadow of any doubt that Gylfie was taxing herself overmuch. She was pale, tired, and not altogether as sharp-minded as she usually was. Nevertheless, Drace kept up appearances, never one to tell another woman in so cutthroat a culture that she ought to back off of her duties or that she might not be up to the task. However, things soon progressed to a point at which the motherly side of her took over, and she knew Gylfie needed to sleep.

"Now this document here... needs to be filed differently," she said, passing it to Gylfie. "Make a note that it muse be hand-copied before filing, for it must be placed in two separate archives. Do that and then set down your quill, for it is high time you retired to bed. And no, on this, there is to be no argument," Drace said firmly.

She waited patiently as Gylfie carefully made the note she'd suggested, as the room fell silent. Drace was one unafraid of silences, and yet this one seemed... rather weighty. Glancing at Gylfie as she collected the documents they'd been working on in their proper folders, she couldn't help but think that the young woman wanted to tell her something, but... she knew there was no rushing Gylfie if she wasn't of a mind to share what she was-

Her words stopped Drace cold for all that they shocked her. With widened eyes, she looked to Gylfie. "You... you what?" Drace blurted out, her surprise stripping her speech of all its usual eloquence. "Truly...?" she asked with an uncharacteristic amount of genuine innocence. After a moment, a humble smile came to the usually stern and stoic woman's lips. "Dare I ask with which part of my name you have knowingly cursed your child?" she said softly. A joke, perhaps, but she was also genuinely curious. "Ynarra, I am... deeply honored that you would do such a thing."

"The child is well, then? You've worried Gabranth and I a bit with your brief responses to our inquiries of late. We thought not to pry, but... well we do worry, for you both." Drace moved to lay her hand over Gylfie's on her desk. "But you do need a good night's sleep, my dear," she whispered, her tone nothing if not motherly towards a woman she loved as dearly as if she were her own daughter. "On that I am not bending, no matter how you might try to distract me with flattery." Another joke, but... she knew it would be well taken.

[tarnishedxknight]

Gylfie had hoped her betrothal to Vayne would have been dropped when Takrin died. After all, it was more a benefit to him - a thank you from House Solidor for House Ynarra's unwavering loyalty, as promised by Emperor Gramis. As the last remaining Ynarra, it should have been left in her hands, and they had never acted upon their betrothal before, so why keep it? And she was now Judge Magister - surely House Solidor would not be interested in disrupting the Bureaus once more just to replace her? She knew Vayne would never allow her to have such authority, and she doubted the Senate would appreciate both an Empress and Magister.

She had reason for her hope. Takrin practically encouraged Vayne's pursuit of her, but with him dead, it seemed Vayne had suddenly lost interest. Something she would not complain about, as she had no interest in him in any way, and it merely proved what she had already suspected - his interest in her stemmed from securing Takrin's fealty. But she should have known better. After all, there was one crucial detail she had failed to take into account when she took it into her own hands to become Magister.

She was utterly alone.

And Vayne knew it.

Takrin had, despite his encouragement, had been some sort of buffer between her and Vayne, and with him gone, Vayne's renewed pursuit had become... worse. He was subtle about it. He sought her council with talk of politics relating to her Bureau and her Bureau alone, and outwardly had little care of any other pleasantries. But she learned - and learned quickly - it was no more than a lure to get her alone. If anyone overheard, they would suspect nothing, and what was she to do about it? No one would believe her, Magister or not. For anyone to make such horrid accusations against any Solidor would be preposterous, and for a Magister to try and attempt such? No, Gylfie knew she would be seen as mad and stripped of her title immediately and escorted out of the palace, because how dare she ruin Vayne Solidor's good name? They would sooner before she had made advances on him and was furious at his refusal than to accept that he was sexually abusing her.

Her authority mattered not. Her years of service mattered not. Vayne was untouchable - his power far above hers. All he needed to do was dangle their betrothal before her and tell her she was his, and all he had to do was request his father to make use of his word and go forward with the wedding, and that would be that. She would be Magister no more, and forever trapped by Vayne's side. And if that wasn't enough? Takrin had always said she was a whore, so... if Vayne accidentally repeated what Takrin had always said, her reputation would be in ruins.

But Gylfie could not wear her armor all the time, nor could she refuse a summons when it was carefully disguised as politics or duty. She had no one to turn to, nowhere to run, and more than ever, she felt caged. The chain around her neck felt more like a noose than a leash, and if she was more short-tempered, then what did it matter? She had to protect herself where she could. Had to maintain some semblance of control when everything was so close to falling apart. More than ever before, she could trust no one.

Yet, although she could not explain it herself, when Vayne entered the throne room to stand at his father's side as Gramis discussed the latest changes in the war with the Judge Magisters, Gylfie had quietly moved herself to stand close to Gabranth.

She was careful about it - cautious not to draw attention or make a scene - and her expression remained a stony mask. But from where she had stood to keep distance between herself and the other Magisters, she now stood closer to the head of the Magisters without a word. She said nothing to Gabranth, nor did she even spare him a glance, but instinct told her it was safer to stand near him than it was to remain alone with Vayne now there. There was no proof she was safe with him - not when their interactions had been professional at best and teetering toward a fight at worst, with her testing her luck when seeing how far she could push his authority to establish her own - but it... it was something she simply did. She couldn't give herself a reason, and certainly wouldn't be able to offer one to him if he asked, but she was not going to move again. Not when she knew that would certainly draw attention, whether it be from Gabranth or someone else, and not when it was the first time she felt any sense of security. And as soon as they were dismissed, she wouldn't bother him again.

(( @disillusionedjudge I know they don't have their chosen family dynamic in Gylfie's corruption au, but I love the idea of her taking a look at the gruffest, hard-assed (affectionate), and dangerous magisters and deciding he's safe to be around c': ))

{ @disillusionedjudge | Omggg, I love this idea and I'm so here for it. This is gonna spawn some new headcanons for me, too, I can already feel them coming on, haha. }

It still stung, being here in the throne room and in the presence of the Emperor... but having it not be the one he'd given his allegiance to. Watching Vayne take his father's place, a poor substitute for a greater man, was nothing short of painful and insulting. Gramis had his flaws, his shortcomings, the gods knew he did. Gabranth... knew he did. Yet Vayne fell so much farther short of the mark Gramis had attempted to set in his final days that it would be absurd, laughable, bordering on the silly and the idiotic... if the implications of it were not so catastrophic for the Empire.

Watching his supporters like Bergan grin and sneer and practically drip with obsequiousness in Vayne's presence was nauseating enough, but watching Vayne settle so smugly and undeservingly into power was far worse. Gabranth would have given anything for the solace - and geographic distance - of the battlefront now, but... what's done was done. There was no changing it. No reversing it. No fixing it. No bringing Gramis or whatever potential future for Archadia that might have been with him back again. One simply could only move forward and fight to keep one's head above water in this new normal that had been thrust upon the rank of Judge Magister.

Gods, the man could speak. And about nothing and matters of the most dire importance at once, no less. Peppered within the glibness and the flowery speech were kernels of terrible truths, and loathe as Gabranth was to listen to any of it, he knew he had to. For the Empire's sake, for Larsa's... One could not slay a dragon without first getting it to show its belly. He had to find that chink in Vayne's armor, that one missing scale through which an arrow could fly true. And until then, a faithful hound he would be... at least, to all watching. Within his heart, however, Gabranth was sharpening a dagger for the man. One not unlike the one used to slay his mother.

He had been paying close attention, taking in the meanings of Vayne's words, and then taking in the meanings behind them, under then, between them... until he saw movement out of his peripheral. He was unfortunately without the comfort and safety of his helm in what was supposed to be a meeting between the Emperor and his trusted Judge Magisters, but... without moving his head... Gabranth's eyes dropped and fell to his left for just a moment, affording his vision just that little bit wider scope with which to see...

...that Judge Magister Ynarra had come to stand beside him.

Whether or not it was prudent or not, Gabranth heard very little of Vayne's words after that. No matter. This meeting seemed to be more about tightening the ranks with intimidation disguised as wisdom than about actual substance. Instead, Gabranth's mind, perhaps seeking some private solace from the wagging jaw of the false Emperor before him, chose to mull over why Ynarra had come to stand beside him. She hadn't addressed him, no. Not while Vayne was speaking. Nor had she touched him, bumped him, moved past or in front of him. All she'd done... was stand near him. And she'd arrived slowly, as if wanting her movements to either go unnoticed or to be perceived as idle pacing.

Curious, that. Too curious to be ignored.

He didn't fear her, but he didn't fully trust her either. Some of that was due to her father's own conduct and support of Vayne in his final weeks, but even so... this Ynarra hadn't given Gabranth too much cause for concern. If anything, she did not seem to be half the loyal dog sitting at heel beside Vayne as her father had once been. Nevertheless, he wondered what the significance of such placement of herself during this particular meeting might be.

He tuned back in. Vayne was speaking of this and of that, seeming much like his mother to love the sound of his own voice. More than that, though, he enjoyed that everyone there was forced to listen. He enjoyed... the stage, the floor, the pulpit... the power. Vayne reveled in it. And over and over again, he looked more at one person than at anyone else in the room. Judge Ynarra. Oh, and it wasn't just looking. A little head tilt here. A long pause there. One corner or the other of his mouth curling... curling up into a smile... as artificial as Archadia's election process...

Oh.

Gabranth swallowed hard faster than he could hold it back. His heart began to race. Outwardly, he remained stoic and attentive, but inside... it was as if Amoretta had walked into the room, alive and well. Gabranth knew well that behavior, that... focus... on one person. Better than he ever wanted to remember.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it was only Vayne's unfortunate resemblance to his mother that had triggered him. Perhaps... he was only projecting.

But if he was not...

How strange it was, then, that a protectiveness flared within him. Ynarra was not his responsibility, nor was it his business to interfere if what he was thinking was right, but... gods he would have helped anyone to avoid what he went through. And so, when finally Vayne had stopping wagging his lip and dismissed the gathering, Gabranth was quick to speak... once all others around them had left, of course.

"Judge Ynarra. A word, please. In my office," he said. Firm words, professional and straightforward... but also friendly. He was not coming at her, by any means, he simply needed to talk to her to make sure he was wrong and that Vayne was not-

Well, he'd leave all that for private conversation once they were alone.

[tarnishedxknight]

"Bergan didn't kill Takrin. I... I did."

(( @disillusionedjudge for Gabranth!))

@disillusionedjudge

Well. That was the last thing Gabranth expected to hear out of Gylfie's mouth when she came into his office. He knew it was going to be something of dire importance, with the look upon her face and the way she'd hastily closed the door behind her when she arrived. But this? Gabranth could not say he was thoroughly blindsided by the news, given the extremely contentious relationship between Gylfie and her father, but surprised? Most definitely. This... was no laughing matter, and the damage control involved would require the utmost delicacy.

He'd already removed his helm when she entered, as was courteous to do, but also what was warranted for the level of trust between them. Gabranth now rose from his seat and came around from behind his desk, stepping closer to Gylfie until there was only perhaps a foot of space between them, his gauntlets clasped behind him.

"No, you did not," Gabranth said firmly. "My sources tell me Bergan did the deed. I have eyewitness accounts that simply cannot be refuted. And that is what I shall report to His Eminence." He stared for a moment, amber eyes making sure her own met his gaze and that she understood his words... and the underlying meaning of them. "Now..." he said, casually strolling back to his desk and turning to lean against it, his arms folding, "...with that bit of business out of the way, tell me what happened, Ynarra. Every detail."

Gabranth would cover for her regarding this incident, most assuredly. He protected his own, and Gylfie had earned that much from him. She was a valuable ally in the fight for a better future for Archadia, and beyond that, he-... he loved her as he would his own flesh and blood daughter. However, he could not properly fabricate an alternate truth if he did not have all pertinent information regarding the real truth first...

[tarnishedxknight]

"Drace, there's..." Gylfie sucked in a deep breath - unable even look at her beloved mentor. Fear and shame evident across her features, as she held held stiff. Almost... cowering. "There's something I need to tell you. I only ask that you... that you not be mad."

(( @disillusionedjudge ))

@disillusionedjudge

Usually, when anything was prefaced by the phrase "don't be mad," Drace promised nothing. As an upholder of the law, she never agreed to anything, dismissed anything, or promised to react a certain way with anything sight unseen and details unknown. But in this case, seeing her dear Gylfie in such a state, she was inclined to make an exception. Something was clearly very wrong, and in a sensitive way.

"Very well," Drace said, folding her arms and giving Gylfie her undivided attention. "I shan't be mad. Now what is the matter?" she asked gently, hoping that whatever she was about to hear was not too much of a mess to be cleaned up quickly and discreetly...

[tarnishedxknight]

“A child born of sin, and yet… I still want it."

((Luci for Noah!))

@notyourdumblonde

"Why sin, do you say?" was his first question to her. It was wrong, he felt, to condemn a child before it was even born. Did she truly believe that sin brought about its existence? Nevertheless, he felt he had little say in whether or not she kept it. Perhaps that was because he'd had no say whatsoever in whether Larsa had been brought to term or not. Thank the gods he'd had one with regard to his ultimate survival, though. But Luci... she could and should make this decision for yourself. "You have decided to keep it, then?" he asked.

[tarnishedxknight]

❝ i want you to stay here with me tonight. stay? ❞

(( @wovenwaves for Drace! This can be spicy or not, whatever works, Mar's just in a shippy mood and I'm pulling from memes I reblogged to make it easier on my brain sdfgjkhgfds))

@wovenwaves

Drace knew she ought to politely decline. For a Judge Magister to be seen with someone in Archades at this time of night and then to stay that night, no less, would certainly cause some whisperings. At the same time, though, Drace could not ignore the way Maris' words caused her heart to skip a few beats from sheer excitement at the idea.

"All night?" she asked, as if playfully submitting to an order, already starting to smile. What would Gabranth say in the morn? Something teasing, no doubt, for he would notice when she was not there, as she always rose before him. The two had grown close enough friends over the years to know their personal schedules inside and out. He knew she was here with Maris now, though, and he seemed to approve well enough of their relationship. Not that Drace needed his approval to court someone, but Maris was his cousin after all. How fortunate that she'd had the inkling to reunite them, otherwise she would never have met the love of her life.

"I have never wanted anything more..." Drace whispered, finally giving her answer as she closed the distance between them and lay her hand on Maris cheek. A moment later, she leaned into kiss her, slowly and lovingly.

[tarnishedxknight]

Quietly, Gylfie approached Gabranth - her body language revealing her heavy heart. Drace's death... was a well-aimed blow from Vayne, made all the more worse by his chosen executioner. And...

Gods above, it was a guilt she wished Gabranth would have been spared from.

Without a word, she slowly removed her helm - her expression somber and sorrowful. A sign of respect. An offer of vulnerability from her, to show she meant no harm. "I am sorry," she said quietly. "I... am truly sorry, Gabranth."

(( @disillusionedjudge ))

@disillusionedjudge

The throne room had cleared by now, and Drace's body was removed much too quickly for his liking, but Gabranth remained. On a professional level, he felt he could not leave until he could stop sweating, control his breathing better, and not appear as shaken as he felt. On a more personal level, he couldn't move. His feet were planted, looking out one of the large windows of the grand room that overlooked the Imperial City of Archades. He just couldn't move. It was as if, by not leaving, he was holding onto his last shred of control over the situation, for it had gotten away from him, it had all happened too fast, and he'd lost the one person he'd given his soul to and now he-

Now he was lost.

He couldn't cry. He couldn't rage. It was as if he was before a firing squad, knowing eventually he'd feel waves of pain from injuries that hadn't quite struck him yet, and he had no idea when the pain would come. For now, he was frozen, unable to feel... while simultaneously feeling far more than he could possibly process in this moment.

And within him, the Mist stirred. He could feel it, much resembling the prickly feeling of the onset of panic, but deep in the pit of his stomach instead. A swirling, churning, storm within him. It was building. It was looking for release. Silently, and with a calm that belied the heightened emotion of his situation, Gabranth made a note to himself to make certain that, when the Mist demanded that release from him, he was in a place where he could rage without ruining the social and political position Drace had given his life for him to maintain.

The strange thing was, all this time hadn't been... all this time. It had only been several minutes. And he hadn't been alone either. One had lingered behind, and now he heard her footsteps behind him, without knowing whose they actually were. For a moment he thought they might be Vayne's, and Gabranth thought to himself, Would he assassinate me as well? I would welcome it. Of course that was merely the grief talking, for he had to stay alive, for Lord Larsa's sake. But when he heard the telltale clanking of a Judge Magister's armor, he knew there was only one other present beside himself who had not been given further orders to leave.

Her words at first made him angry, for his first defensive instinct was to believe that they were spoken mockingly. But, hearing her tone, and turning his head slightly to see with through his peripheral vision that she had removed her helm, he knew that wasn't the case. With gauntlets still clasped behind his back, his gaze still searching but not finding out of that same window he'd come to stand before, Gabranth did his best to reply.

"None... more so than myself, Ynarra," he said, hating the emotion in his voice. It had sounded gentle, and that wasn't like him. All manner of aggression and strength had left him now, though. It would return, the Mist gathering within him would see to that, but for now, he felt spent in the worst of ways. He was trying to hard to recover, to regroup, but his efforts were not as successful as he wanted.

He turned around slowly, realizing that he still had not replaced his own helm. That... was dangerous, he knew, but he just didn't put it back on. It was still part of him being frozen for the moment. His gaze was unblinking as it glanced at her, and then past her, and then at the pool of blood on the floor. There was a smear, a trail, heading towards the entrance, where they'd dragged the body of his love.

He was simply disarmed at the moment. He hadn't expected to have to jump right back into the game so soon, but why hadn't he? Of course he'd have to. Yet, if he was going to be seen as faltering by anyone, he supposed that Judge Ynarra was just about the safest individual it could have happened with... if there ever was anyone safe for him to be around. There had been Drace, but she is gone.

Nevertheless, he tried his best to force himself to recover fully and quickly. "We must carry on," he said stoically and dismissively, though it rang hollow when compared to the glassy look in his eyes. "For the Empire, and Lord Larsa." Vayne... had been omitted from his declaration of loyalty in a very telling way. How Ynarra responded to that would dictate how he proceeded with her. It was the best he could do... in his wounded and broken condition.

[tarnishedxknight]

"While I can see you would prefer to confer with Drace," Zargabaath said rather dryly, though not without a hint of amusement, "I am afraid I must require a bit more of your attention, lest your fleet be down an airship or two."

(( @lightinxthedark for Gabranth! Because screw it, Zarg's gonna mess with them both dfhjkdf))

@lightinxthedark

Gabranth's helm turned in the direction of Zargabaath, and he was a bit long in answering. When he finally did, he was mildly defensive. "What does Drace have to do with the number of ships in my fleet?" he asked, wondering if this was a threat, a tease, or something actually important on the other's part. If there was one topic of discussion that could instantly catch Gabranth off his guard and cause him to falter, however, it was Drace, and so he decided to err on the side of giving Zargabaath the least amount of information to work with. "If you require my time, you have it now," Gabranth said, turning to face him fully. "What is it you wish to discuss?" Avoid the topic entirely, but make a note to discern his potential agenda later, the mind of the head of espionage began churning...