spank that new years baby

[moonsheen]

Ah, guess I'm a day late for the BIG UNMASKING? Oh well. HARK! TIS I who wrote yuletide story Gerda and the Snow Queen for ave_eva. Which is rough in places that still make me wince, but overall I'm pretty happy with how it turned out and glad that my recipient enjoyed. ♥

Meanwhile, because my f-list is doing it and I wanna be one of the cool kids: New Years Request Meme. Standard flavor this time. You know how this goes: name a fandom/pairing/characters and I write you a story of dubious drabble status to the best of my ability provided said request does not destroy my brain.

Comments

[moonsheen.livejournal.com]

This is the way the 9th Bureau works: you take a man, you take his history, and you pluck out his sins the way some gods plucked out the eyes of men who looked too intently upon their doings. Archadia and its love of documentation make this a routine task. Here is a man who is be declared responsible for a minor provincial conflict costing several military units and the destruction of what had previously been a colonial settlement offering a good source of grain. The soldiers were hungry and undersupplied. Greater attention had been paid to doings on an opposite border. This man is not at full fault, but the senate is eager to jump upon any military oversight, any chance draw blame up the chain of command and to House Solidor, and so some sacrifice must be made. So here are his past failings. Here are his records of misconduct early in his career. Here are the previously erased reports of his authorization of the burning of a supply bridge to the north. Here is the correspondence he held with a duplicitous senator. Here is the file containing all of his absences in Akademy as a boy. Here are the letters attaching him to the name Regall Solidor. Here is his sentence. Guilty. The crafting this sure sentence takes many days, it demands nothing but thoroughness, and Gabranth as its overseer must ensure the case against this man is utterly flawless, so that the senate can have no reason for complaint, though they will find one anyway. It requires the hunting of men. It takes the opening of files that are nonexistent except for the archives under his control. It requires storming through halls and barking at subordinates. It requires the maintenance of normal duty, regular reports to His Excellency, and Lord Larsa’s requested lessons in swordsmanship. It requires five days, and no sleep.

When Gabranth returns to his apartments, it seems nearly unfamiliar. It is the night before the first hearing. It has been days since he has been there. The automatic doors hiss. The tables are clean. The window affords vast view of the city. Judge Drace lounges in his parlor and he is wholly unsurprised.

“I do not gainsay your efficiency, Gabranth,” she says, the continuation an earlier conversation which has at this moment slipped his mind. He stands in his doorway and stares, waiting. She rises to greet him, as though she were the host and not the guest, arm sliding from where it had been imperiously draped over the arm of one of his chairs. “I merely…find it worthy of some scrutiny.”

She has seen fit to forsake her armor for this occasion. “Gods smite me now if I do not know your love of ‘some scrutiny’, Drace,” he says, taking in the ease of her stance and the crook of her mouth. She has too much a soldier’s dignity to smirk at him. Rather, she wrinkles her nose and scoffs. It would have been a brave move had it come from someone who was not of equal rank.

“Gods, Gabranth? What need do Gods have to do any smiting when we have a law to ensure the same effect?”

“Have you spoken with Zargabaath?”

“I have,” she says, and touches his face. “How haggard you look.”

Her middle and index fingers brush his cheekbone. He tips his head away. “He is with us, then?”

“Zargabaath is…tentative on the subject.”

“He was advisor to the late Regall Solidor and his insight would be invaluable.”

“And he, tentatively, agrees.”

Gabranth closes his eyes. “Good,” he says, and kisses her.