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"Don't you think they were too kind?"

"Kind?" Bertrand replied incredulously. "You call banishment 'kind'?"

"For the crime? Yes." Answered Jerica plainly as they strolled the great hall of the courts, all around them noblemen, soldiers and arbiters milled about, entrenched in their own discussions in the wake of the trial. She spotted the judges that presided over whole affair, the ones who had handed down the punishment of exile, they stood close together and spoke in low, calm tones, but anyone who knew better could tell their conversation was agitated. "He destroyed the land-bridge. We're not prepared for a naval war."

"What do you want me to say?" Said Bertrand simply, giving a perfunctory nod to a pair of noblemen passing by, sipping sweet wine and dressed in the typical dark clothes suited to the courts, albeit garnished with silver accents and buttons to show their status. "He's a high-ranking officer, and it is due to his efforts, almost solely, that we've gained as much ground as we have. He's earned a little leeway, and the right to prove he is worthy of rejoining us."

A sigh and rolling of the eyes were all Jerica could manage, tired of the same story; a powerful officer does something stupid and gets away with it, merely for his ability to destroy. She fumed silently as they continued around the hall, passing numerous others dressed as fine as custom would allow. For the upper-class, the trial of someone important was almost a party in and of itself, a ball where people could be seen at an big event, mingle and gossip, discuss the trial and the war, and whatever else might be interesting for the day. There was even a string quartet filling the room with a sepulchral tune, as damning as the sentencing had been. It filled her with no small amount of disgust to see this noble service of the people, the execution of justice, to be regarded in such a manner.

Again, her eyes found those who argued quietly judges, two of them suddenly breaking away and attending to guests, leaving the High Justice free. His elderly face looked especially weary and drawn in the cold lighting, as if the hushed discourse with his peers had drained the very vitality from him. "Come," bid Bertrand, following her gaze,"let us pay our respects."

Jerica wanted to object, to make excuses, daunted by the station of the man, but hope for recognition stilled her tongue and allowed her to be led by her companion, arm in arm, across the black marble floor to lone elder.

"Ah, Bertrand," greeted the High Justice, giving the slightest of nods and a soft smile that was all courtesy. "I trust you found the proceedings... intriguing."

"To say the least, Lord Valk; we were just discussing it, in fact. My guest, Lady Elles, believes he got off too easy."

"Does she?" Valk looked directly at her, genuine amusement in his eyes, as she flushed with embarrassment and anger towards Bertrand. "Well, had it been you as his arbiter, Lord Tassat, I've no doubt he'd have gotten with no more than a slap on the wrist."

"She hopes to be an arbiter as well one day, perhaps even a judge. I fear the day I might face her in these courts, or what she might do to us all with her draconian standard for punishment. Who knows? We might find ourselves on the chopping block before long."

The old man chuckled at this in earnest, now turning his full attention to Jerica. "I see... Well, sometimes one must spare the life of one, in order to save the lives of many. Kahest will be back someday, and he will help us win this war." Valk turned and took a glass full of the darkest red wine she'd ever seen, sipping it gingerly. A silence had fell, and Bertrand made to excuse them when the Valk spoke once more. "However... we could certainly use a bit of the old ways. When law was law, and not interpretation. You seem to be of that mindset, and if so... you would be welcome in my courts."

With a final nod, he dismissed them, the two bowing as they retreated and resumed their circuit around the hall. Jerica was all but aglow with excitement, and already she could hear the whispers of gossip circulating with them from those who had overheard their conversation with the High Justice. Bertrand all but wore her as an ornament, proud of himself for her success. "There now, see? An invitation from the High Justice himself. Let me be the first to welcome you to the ranks, future arbiter."