A/N: So, I realize that there is another ongoing fic about exactly the same thing. So bad timing on my part, I guess. However, no mind is the same, and I'm sure the outcome will be very different.

If anyone reads this, please review. Comments would certainly be motivating (be they positive or not, as long as they are constructive).

So, hope you enjoy the second part :D

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Square Enix. But the words are all mine.

Part 2

The only thing that could have made Ffamran run faster was the sight of the light shining through the windows in his fathers study. Even though he despised himself for it, he could not help the eager, expectant feeling that arose on the rare occasions that his father left the laboratory. Hoping for some praise or even just a friendly conversation, he felt he was too old to crave such things. But no matter. He couldn't help how he felt.

The armour made it almost impossible to move at any considerable speed, but indeed he did his best. As he approached the manor at a glacial pace, he gave himself some time to reflect upon today's events.

Who would have thought Vayne capable of something like that? The man had never come across as sympathetic in any way, but killing your own brothers was a bit over the top. Of course, Ffamran was not acquainted with either of the emperor's sons. There could be a reasonable explanation. But he had to admit that even though Judge Drace was disappointingly plain, she had made a convincing show. And now he could not wait to tell his father. Maybe he knew something. After all, he did pay regular visits to the palace.

Once inside he did not waist any time with changing. He simply pulled off the helmet and threw it in the closest corner, then proceeded to the wide staircase. Too tired to run he attempted more of a slow trot, but it was too inelegant for his dignity to bear, and had to settle with a pace. He had not worn the armour for more than one day, and yet he had already decided that once his judging days were over he would never wear one again.

The quivering metal revealed his entrée, and when he at last stormed into the room, his father was halfway across it to inspect the cause of disruption.

"Ffamran!" he cried out in surprise. It was not custom in this household for the son to enter the fathers study. "What are you doing here?" was his reproachful inquiry.

"Father," Ffamran began in his usual arrogant tone, as if it came completely involuntarily. "Have you heard? About Vayne, I mean," he then continued in a slightly more respectful manner.

"This better be important! Whatever possessed you to make such a racket?" he demanded.

"I heard it at work. In the courtroom." He added this little detail in the hopes that his father would be reminded what day it was. "Vayne. He has murdered his brothers, father. The two eldest, but not Larsa."

Dr. Cid looked immensely annoyed with his offspring. To emphasize this he simply turned around and made his way back to his desk and the books that waited there.

"Now really, Ffamran?" he said, irony coating every word. "It is true that Solidor's oldest sons were executed, but whatever gave you the absurd idea that Vayne was responsible?"

"Executed? Why? What for? By whom where they convicted?" Ffamran said, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

"They where traitors, exchanging military information to the Rozarians. When Vayne discovered this, he had them convicted," Cid answered as he reached his desk and sat down. He put on his spectacles and reached for his pen. After a moment of silent scribbling he added, "It's a tragedy to be sure, but Vayne did what was right for the Empire. How come you knew?"

"I'm a judge, father. We are the ones who make the convictions," Ffamran muttered, but without really paying attention.

So were it not true at all? Vayne had not killed his brothers. He had to admit that his father's explanation made a whole lot more sense. He could not, however, bring himself to side with Cid, be it only from a childish principle. For that reason alone he made his very best to find a flaw in this theory.

"Why on earth would the heir to the throne betray his own empire?" he asked, his voice aloof with contempt.

"Ffamran," Cid answered. "I have work to do. You never cared about such things before, why now?"

He put down his pen and replaced it with a stone-like object. Giving it a long, yearning look he seemed to have forgotten his son's presence for a moment. At last his thoughts returned from wherever they'd strayed to.

"Leave now. I have work to do."

Ffamran knew that objections where futile. They always were. When work was present, it was always top priority. He wanted so badly to be fine with that. He wanted to be the nonchalant man he always portrayed himself as, blind to other people's opinion. But if he had to be honest (it was hard, even for himself) he would like it if his father had cared as much for him as he did for that stone, or whatever this new obsession was.

***

At last out of the armour, he was standing in his room, shirtless while searching for something to wear. While going through the oversized closet he couldn't seem to find anything, despite the fact that it was filled to bursting point. In the end he found a black shirt that sat loosely, yet brought out his more muscular parts. He had to skip the tight leather pants that he had grown so fond of lately. They seemed unsuitable for a judge, so he chose another pair. Still black, but looser. After an approving look in the well used mirror he paced across the room, stopping by the window like he'd done only this morning. This time his eyes where drawn towards the overwhelming halls and towers that where the palace of Solidor. Inside that palace was the Emperor, probably staggered with grief, and his son who might or might not have murdered his brothers. It was hard to know who to side with, but luckily he knew he would not need to. His father would never want anything more of him than to be acknowledged and perhaps one day pick up his own research. But he needed not have an opinion. It would be preferred if he simply did as asked. And as far as Judge Drace went, she seemed to think of him as nothing more than the doctor's son, and neither sought his opinion nor wanted it. He could remain comfortably passive and needed not waste his thoughts on matters that exceeded his understanding.

***

Ffamran sank deeper down into the comfortable chair. He had considered the rug; it looked comfortable enough. But he reasoned that sitting more or less upright in a chair he would maintain some dignity if he should be seen.

Drace had summoned him some ten minutes ago, but had to leave and had asked him to wait for her to come back. So that's what he did. As he tended to his hangover, the woman from last night crept into his thoughts. Not the woman he had accompanied home. No, she was far to plain to make such an impression. There had been a creature by the bar. Strange and beautiful she was, with her moon pale, waist length hair and a tall and slender figure. But what had been most unnerving where her ears, that where long and furry. They quite resembled those of a rabbit. He had not spoken with her at all, but he could not get her out of his thoughts.

"Ahem," someone cleared their throat. "You are in my chair."

Ffamran opened his eyes to find a displeased Drace gazing down at him.

"Indeed I am," he retorted arrogantly before standing up with deliberately slow motions. Too slow in Drace's opinion, as she decided to pushed him the rest of the way.

"I have a task for you," she said. "And since you are under my mentorship you will do as asked, no questions, no refusals."

"What would you have me do?" he asked in earnest curiosity.

"You will," she said as she stood up, "help me in my investigations, by finding out exactly what Judge Bergan, Dr. Cid and Vayne are doing in that laboratory. What kind of weapon research is going on? "

"You want me to spy on my father?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," she answered with a frankness he couldn't help but admire. "You will find out what's going on at Draklor. Every little detail. And you will report directly to me." Then she sighed and her expression changed to one of compassion. "I know he's your father, and that this is a loyalty conflict. But I'm asking you to do what is right!"

It was in that moment he truly understood how detached he and his father had grown. That he actually considered betraying his own father. Not just considering either.

"That won't be a problem," he answered, knowing he spoke the truth. "But how do you want it done? Shall I pretend to take part in his work? I can't guarantee he will permit me. At least not with the works you're interested in. I could simply be delegated something completely uninteresting."

"Hm …" Drace pondered, sinking down in the chair he'd just vacated. "It would certainly be best if you were included. But we need to get a general idea of what's going on. Otherwise you won't know what to look for. I think if you snooped a little around, gathered some information. Then we take it from there."

Ffamran nodded, not sure how eager he should be, and decided to take his leave.

"Oh, and Ffamran," she called after him, just as he was about to open the door. "This is something you do for me personally. The system … is not as just as I would prefer it. Some would even question our right to use the word judge at all. We could possibly be charged with treason, should someone find out."

At the flicker of doubt that crossed his face, she rose and met him by the door. She put a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"I am asking you, not only because you're the doctor's son, but because I believe you to be more than that."

***

Draklor was deserted as this time of night, but the guards stayed in place. This was no problem for a judge and the son of Cid himself. For once he was happy to have that advantage. The multitude of airships that swarmed the Archadian sky filled the air with smoke that remained in their wake. It was not possible to see the stars from this part of town, witch was a pity. They always had a calming effect on him.

He strode past the Imperial guards, who saluted in respect. The power, however small, was intoxicating.

But passing the guards was the easy part. Once inside, he had no idea were to go. He'd use to come here pretty often as a child, but as he got older, he lost interest. The memories of happier times brought with it certain uneasiness.

The vast web of halls were confusing, but if he could find his fathers office, there would surly be something of interest there. And if he knew his father right, it would be on the top floor. To the elevator then!

With smooth, swift motions, the elevator shoot up the building and came to a halt with a loud pling on the top floor. The doors opened to reveal the room on the other side.

He had been right, it was the correct room. But why in all of Ivalice where she there? Why was the woman with the moon pale hair standing by his father's desk? And last but not least, why did she have an arrow pointed at his chest?