Editing Last Breath of Winter:Characters:Mask:History (section)

===A Lesson===

"Time to choose, son."

Judge Hahnis Paktrichter looked, to his son with cool resolution. The grey cut stone of the city prisons seemed to suck in the fluttering illumination of the oil lamps that casted splotches of light about the room. To his right was young Ionus, a boy around fourteen in age, his gawky mid-pubescent body giving little more than a hanging frame for his dark robes. Across the room, two prisoners kneeled, their legs shackled to walls. A pair of guards stood watch silently at the door.

Ionus' brow was furrowed as he looked down at the ground. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, but with the slightly more rapid pace that gave away his nervousness. 

"Are you -sure- this is the entirety of their records?"

"Quite sure."

"Maybe something was lost or overlooked. Perhaps we should review."

"The records are complete, and there is no time for further investigation. You know this."

"Hmm..." Ionus turned in thought. His eyes followed the path of some in indeterminate trickle of water along the back wall. The soft echoes of motion from the halls punctuated the otherwise still silence of the room. 

"There must be something missing."

"There is. A decision. This has to be done, Ionus."

The boy gave a soft snort over his shoulder. "I know. I just..."

"Son, look at me."

The boy turned and met his father's gaze. Though his gaze had a practiced firmness, his crossed arms and the echo in the back of his eyes showed his fear.

"Now, look at them."

A silent plea screamed from the eyes of Ionus, but crashed against the walls of his father's. With a deep breath, he slowly turned his  gaze on the two men for the first time since they entered the room. The fear was evident. Their limbs trembled, their eyes glistened with the moisture of repressed tears and shock. Yet, they did not raise their heads to meet the face of this small boy, for they knew today he would decide which of them would meet a face worse than death. They did not see the trembling of his own jaw and the tears creeping to his eyes, and he did not dare give sound to draw their attention. Countless moments passed as the scene remained near motionless, as if a still painting made real. Finally, the boy lift his hand.

"Him"

For the first time the two looked up to find Ionus pointing at the dark bearded man on the right. No cries were given. The other man slumped over as he fell into a faint. The chosen one just stared blankly out into space. With a nod from Judge Hahnis, the guards removed the prisoners, leaving the father and son alone. Hahnis approached and placed a hand on Ionus' shoulder. "You did what must be done."

"I sent a man to his doom."

"You helped save Whitewall for another year. The cost of survival is steep, but it must be paid. Son," Hahnis turned the boy to face him. "We ''must'' perform our duty. It is not glamorous or easy, but it must be done for the good of all. It hurts now, I know, but you will come to understand. You must." 

The boy nodded to his shoes, a small teardrop shaking loose of his cheek in the motion. Hahnis kissed his son on the head. "Go now, we are done for today. I must finish some matters here."

With another nod to his feet, the boy moved to the exit. Hahnis turned to the guards,"Escort him out, please. I will be fine here."

The footsteps trailed off in the distance as Hahnis finished the final sections of the selection warrant, marking the bearded man, a criminal known as Razor Wraith, for the yearly peace pact offering to the Deathlords. At the bottom of the paper was the seal and signature of Judge Hahnis Paktrichter, but just beneath that was the faint trace of another fallen tear.