Magistrate Astarion Week [2024]

Day 2: Job

Magistrate Astarion - In the court

Graduated with honours and promoted at great speed, Astarion could boast of being one of the youngest and most capable magistrates the city had ever seen. So he was humbled when he was assigned the case of a tribe of Gur. So much talent wasted on a vulgar argument between a silk merchant and filthy monster hunters. Would it have been so hard to let the merchant keep the skins and scales of the critters they had hunted? Nor that the Gur could put them to any decent use!

Astarion, young and mortal, dropped the paper of the complaint and reached over to drink what would be his last of the wine before its taste turned sour.

Why should we care about them anyway?

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The Magistrate Spawn - Office

Astarions inhaled the scent and felt at home. The office was modest and shared. He had many sins to atone for and redemption to prove, so he agreed to start small. A small blow to his ego that the good company helped to soften.

With what he had done in the past, he needed to prove (and prove to himself) that he wasn't going to corrupt himself... again.

Fortunately they had understood his situation and he had a night schedule, short of finding some miracle that would allow him to walk in the sun again, so he could fit in without witnesses or whispers around him.

The chair gave a soft creak. As he ran his hands over the mahogany table he could feel the passage of time on it. He picked up the small figure of Jolith, god of justice, shared by all the law workers, and smiled with genuine amusement.

Under the table, in the top drawer, he kept a small portrait in which several faces of the most varied types were crammed together: from Githyankis to humans.

His little family portrait.

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The Ascended Magistrate - Interrogation

The interrogations were fascinating.

Watching Lae'zel interrogate the cowardly Zorru in the Emerald Grove was inspiring, and Tav was no slouch in impressing him throughout his travels. Getting even with Dalyria and Petras, especially Petras, once they reached Rivington was liberating, but now he wanted more.

Unfortunately, since returning to magisterial duties after his fabled reintroduction to the world and the city, interrogation had not been on his agenda. Nevertheless, he took every opportunity that the louts of the lawyers and the frightened interrogators offered him. Complainant, accused, guilty or innocent, civilian or law worker; all could be targets for his questions as sharp as the fangs that showed when they spoke.

Fierce.

Merciless.

Deadly.