Role

Chapter 11

Honeyed milk - it had gone cold in the mug, but still it soothed her. Ilyana smiled wistfully as she stared out the window at the waxing moon - Screlpth, Provost. She liked him, even if he never smiled, and it was an outcome she could abide.

He would do well for the Spire, even if he might not lead it in the direction she strove towards. Not right away anyhow, but she would keep trying. Perhaps over time his heart might be softened, and those big eyes opened...

She closed her eyes as she took another sip, holding the smooth liquid in her mouth - relishing the moment. At least it was not Grasdraal - she was fond of that doughty son of Akan and devout of her Lady but...

A shamanic Provost summoning Imperial victims out of the Palace could only mean war. And the Spire has no business waging war against any but their true enemy - the Criminal, and criminality. Yes, she was determined to keep the peace.

She would persist for however long it took, and if she was reluctant to assume the mantle of Justiciar as Screlpth had politely suggested, it was only because Provincial afforded her the only means by which to continue safeguarding the Spire.

The power to induct, the authority to advice - these things were key. Actively seek out and bring in like-minded Magistrates - honest, diligent folk who would put the Spire first, not personal ambition, greed nor some 'inner Maran'.

Also whatever gentle nudge and steer a Provincial might provide - in the direction of peace and peaceability, tact and empathy, for as long as the Provost might not decree against... Yes, there was hope still for what she stands for.

Calmly setting aside the by now empty mug, she quietly pinned on her badge and returned to the bustling streets by a night market. The road might be long, but it is never about the destination - only the journey.