Radilo
Establishing Nation
Badua, la Serenissima Repubblica di Radila
8:00 pm on a Thursday
Ms. Kipa's restraunt closed at 6 when the market did. So by 7:00, the sisters were able to head home. Aria was out by the Juilet balcony clacking away on her phone; Emilia was in the kitchen, cutting up carrots, onions, and celery for soffritto.
There was a loud knock at the door. Aria answered it, though only because she beat her sister to it.
"Hello," she said to the younger woman in a black robe standing in the hall, "why are you wearing a robe?"
"I'm a magistrate, I'm kind of a judge."
"Why are you here?" Emilia asked, finally arriving at the door.
"I understand that you are refugees, and might be less inclined to trust figures of authority. But please be assured that I am not here to hurt either of you."
"I asked you why you were here."
The young robed woman sighed, but quickly regained her composure.
"Young lady, are you Aria Colombo?"
"That depends."
"She's not in any trouble, we just need to clarify something with her."
"Yes."
"I'm going to have to invite myself in. I don't want to discuss private matters in public."
"Do we have a choice?" Emilia asked.
"Not really."
"Fine, come in."
Shutting the door behind her, the young magistrate opened the small briefcase she was carrying.
"We have to do this for three years after law school, be magistrates I mean. We have some power, but it's not much; we don't get paid a lot of money--we do the judicial grunt-work. They have us visit the houses of minors, instead of us having them brought in--wise I think. They say it's to build empathy, doing this kind of job. It works. I spend my days helping people who are and feel like they live precariously. I grew up in a upper-middle class family. It's been eye opening."
"We grew up comfortably, too," Emilia said, "we lost everything during the war. It's been eye opening."
"I'm sorry. But my visit, while mandatory, is to help you."
"What do you need with me?" asked Aria.
"There was a discrepancy in your records. Your citizenship papers say you were born in 2010, but your tax form says you were born in 2008."
At that point Emilia was giving Aria a heavy dose of side-eye.
"Mistakes get made," Aria said, smugly.
The young magistrate rolled her eyes so hard you could hear her eye cords straining.
"This is the reported net Income," the magistrate said, pointing to a bolded set of numbers. "Are you being paid that?"
Aria was silent for a few moments.
"Listen, kid, we don't really care that you're working underage, we just want to make sure you're getting fair wages," the magistrate said, somewhat exasperated.
Aria took the paper and flipped through it. "Yea, that's what Ms. Kipa pays me."
""Good, we don't want employers taking advantage of kids."
"I thought the Camorra handled that?" Aria asked.
"Aria don't!" shouted Emilia.
"It's fine," the young magistrate started, "the mafia can only enforce rules that exist."
She paused, and sighed a bit, before a smile appeared on her face.
"Welcome to Radilo, la Serenìsima is glad to have you. The judiciary serves the people."
"Do you want to eat with us, magistrate? We're making soffritto. And we're making plenty," said Emila, her expression softening.
"It's not usually acceptable for..." she paused and smiled, "fuck it--yes. That sounds lovely."
Aria and Emilia smiled.
8:00 pm on a Thursday
Ms. Kipa's restraunt closed at 6 when the market did. So by 7:00, the sisters were able to head home. Aria was out by the Juilet balcony clacking away on her phone; Emilia was in the kitchen, cutting up carrots, onions, and celery for soffritto.
There was a loud knock at the door. Aria answered it, though only because she beat her sister to it.
"Hello," she said to the younger woman in a black robe standing in the hall, "why are you wearing a robe?"
"I'm a magistrate, I'm kind of a judge."
"Why are you here?" Emilia asked, finally arriving at the door.
"I understand that you are refugees, and might be less inclined to trust figures of authority. But please be assured that I am not here to hurt either of you."
"I asked you why you were here."
The young robed woman sighed, but quickly regained her composure.
"Young lady, are you Aria Colombo?"
"That depends."
"She's not in any trouble, we just need to clarify something with her."
"Yes."
"I'm going to have to invite myself in. I don't want to discuss private matters in public."
"Do we have a choice?" Emilia asked.
"Not really."
"Fine, come in."
Shutting the door behind her, the young magistrate opened the small briefcase she was carrying.
"We have to do this for three years after law school, be magistrates I mean. We have some power, but it's not much; we don't get paid a lot of money--we do the judicial grunt-work. They have us visit the houses of minors, instead of us having them brought in--wise I think. They say it's to build empathy, doing this kind of job. It works. I spend my days helping people who are and feel like they live precariously. I grew up in a upper-middle class family. It's been eye opening."
"We grew up comfortably, too," Emilia said, "we lost everything during the war. It's been eye opening."
"I'm sorry. But my visit, while mandatory, is to help you."
"What do you need with me?" asked Aria.
"There was a discrepancy in your records. Your citizenship papers say you were born in 2010, but your tax form says you were born in 2008."
At that point Emilia was giving Aria a heavy dose of side-eye.
"Mistakes get made," Aria said, smugly.
The young magistrate rolled her eyes so hard you could hear her eye cords straining.
"This is the reported net Income," the magistrate said, pointing to a bolded set of numbers. "Are you being paid that?"
Aria was silent for a few moments.
"Listen, kid, we don't really care that you're working underage, we just want to make sure you're getting fair wages," the magistrate said, somewhat exasperated.
Aria took the paper and flipped through it. "Yea, that's what Ms. Kipa pays me."
""Good, we don't want employers taking advantage of kids."
"I thought the Camorra handled that?" Aria asked.
"Aria don't!" shouted Emilia.
"It's fine," the young magistrate started, "the mafia can only enforce rules that exist."
She paused, and sighed a bit, before a smile appeared on her face.
"Welcome to Radilo, la Serenìsima is glad to have you. The judiciary serves the people."
"Do you want to eat with us, magistrate? We're making soffritto. And we're making plenty," said Emila, her expression softening.
"It's not usually acceptable for..." she paused and smiled, "fuck it--yes. That sounds lovely."
Aria and Emilia smiled.
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