Fair Judgment Lore:
The chair. The blindfold. The scales. The sword.
Eido extinguished the flame on her ambient air gas burner. As the beaker above it cooled, the solution inside resolved into two distinct fluids, layered one atop another. Even at high heat, they remained immiscible. She clicked her mandibles in irritation.
The footfalls of an approaching visitor interrupted her. She welcomed the distraction. Anything to justify the hiatus she felt too guilty to grant herself.
Variks hobbled in, his fur collar matted by the lab’s humidity. The Vandal glanced surreptitiously toward Misraakskel, who was slumped on his throne nearby. Even though the troubled Kell was heavily sedated, Variks kept his voice low.
“Variks has a new task for young Eido,” he muttered.
Eido sighed. This was not the pleasant diversion she had hoped for. “I’m too busy to take on new jobs right now,” she objected.
“There is a dispute between House Light and newcomers from House Salvation,” Variks continued, breezing past her objection. “A squabble over salvage rights. The jump drive of an ancient ship, found outside the City.”
“That seems simple enough. Surely you can mediate.”
“Of course. Variks is a Scribe of House Judgment. Are you?”
“I want to be! Eventually. But…” She gestured with exasperation to her laboratory equipment, her ailing father, and her myriad failed attempts to cure him.
“House Judgment keeps peace for all,” Variks replied gravely. “Not only one House, or one Kell. As a Scribe, your allegiance to House Light must always yield to a greater need.”
Variks ushered his young pupil from the lab.
“Come,” he encouraged her. “Help your kin. Create harmony, and it will follow you back here.” It was exactly the type of advice her father would have given.
Eido relented, letting Variks lead her outside. As they emerged, she expected the usual pangs of guilt. Instead, she was surprised to find only relief in the bustle of the City and the chill of the evening air.
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