This office is surprisingly Earth-like. If you don’t count the guy floating around on the stone disc over there like it’s a motorized wheelchair. Ian thought as examined the lobby.

The short, wizened old man, who may or may not have been a gnome in oversized robes, hovered across the reception area and through the interior glass doors. They had no handles but they slid open at the floating man’s approach. Lawyours & Clients Only written in a bold, azure-hued spellskrit occupied the upper third of the door.

A human receptionist sat behind a sprawling Oakalla desk. She answered a pscry that would not stop lighting up. Her ebony hair was tightly bound into a bun that wiggled ever so slightly every time picked up the pscry. A well-tailored outfit complemented her pale skin. And a perfect smattering of makeup unnecessarily covered her young face. A plaque on the desk identified her as Sharlot Evergreen, Senior Hailer. Vale went to the Hailer’s desk.

Ian went to a sofa in the waiting area. Still observing the lobby for anything strange as Vale had requested. He inspected the Justiciar Law logo displayed behind the hailer’s back. A round shield emblazoned with shackles being shattered by a morning star. Ian was familiar with power displays like this, after all, D.C. was a city full of the rich and powerful. What he found unnerving were the similarities in those displays.

Vale sank into the couch beside him and slapped some paperwork on his thigh. “Let’s get these filled out quickly, okay Gent Targel?”

Ian didn’t respond at first and Vale knocked her knee against his, hard.

“Wha- Oh right yes,” Ian stammered, turning his attention to the papers.

They had an unobstructed view of the comings and goings into the office space from their new vantage point. Through the glass doors, Ian watched as men and women dressed in an assortment of armor paraded through the corridors. Some carried scrolls and files, others had thick books that must have weighed more than Vale, and some had only an armful of weapons.

“Those are lawyours then?” Ian asked.

Vale’s gaze shifted from the parchment that she was filling out to the employees beyond the glass door. “Yes, some of them are. The ones without all the armor are most likely their apprentices.” When the pair finished filling out the forms Vale got up and handed the documents back to Sharlot.

The hailer verified a few spots before unceremoniously chucking them into a drawer. The parchment burst into orange flames and vanished without a trace. Vale jerked Ian away before he had a chance to ask about the fire. They were halfway across the lobby when Sharlot received a call on her pscry.

“Lady Eveningfall,” Sharlot called, “Someone will see you now.”

Vale gracefully turned on her feet and headed back to the desk and Ian followed suit, far less gracefully.

Sharlot gave them directions to take the floortal and to the conference room where they were to meet their lawyour. As they walked through the double doors Ian caught sight of a library to the left. He inconspicuously pointed it out to Vale as they stepped into the floortal. She didn’t look directly only nodding to let him know she’d seen it.

The floortal rose and soon the doors opened into a hallway with several office doors lining both sides. At the head of the hallway lay an open space with several desks, lawyours seated at each desk. Some spoke on pscrys, while others leafed through parchments in deep thought. The rooms on either side were labeled conference rooms 1, 2, 3, and so on. They were heading to the far wall, conference room 6.

Instead of the usual diplomas and awards decorating the walls, Ian saw that they had all manner of weapons hanging from mounted racks. Polished swords and shields gleamed with a mirror-like finish. The handholds of staves were lovingly wrapped in the finest leathers and decorated with precise carvings. And in place of computers, there were helmets and gauntlets set aside while quills scratched on parchment. If it hadn’t been for the arms and armor, this easily could have been mistaken for a police bullpen. Right down to the inescapable Municipal White paint on the walls. Clearly marking this as a functional space unlike the lobby below.

A lawyour rose from his desk as they passed, drawing Ian’s eye. His large horns, cloven feet, and snout were a dead giveaway that he was a minotaur. But this minotaur was barely taller than Vale. The mythology on Earth cast them as towering monsters without exception, as the minotaurs in the shop had been. He realized he should stop comparing everything to the accepted stereotypes of Earth.

How exactly are there stereotypes of made-up creatures back home? Ian wondered as he entered the conference room with Vale.

The room was spartan. A broad polished wooden table occupied the middle of the room with several chairs placed around it and nothing more. The table had a pitcher of water, four clean glasses, a quill with an inkwell, and a few sheets of blank paper stacked in the center.

They waited in silence for ten tense minutes, hearing nothing of note from the staff that milled about outside. Then, from behind their backs, there was a creak of a door opening.

Vale instinctively reached for her weapon and spun towards the noise. Ian’s right hand slipped under his shirt and closed around the butt of his gun as he turned.

Where there once was only a wall behind their chairs, there was now a second wooden door, plain as day. And through that door stepped the most intimidating character that Ian had yet seen.

A fully armored seven-foot-tall monster of a man. The blackened, boxy, armor that he wore looked as though it had been in an intense fire. Spikes jutted out from the armguards, and they did not look ornamental. A two-horned helmet with a T-shaped opening concealed his face save for a scant impression of his dark eyes and pale nose.

Ian found his encounter with the blue half-dragon on the street disquieting, and the golem back in the warehouse certainly terrified him, but this man made Ian feel profoundly vulnerable. The way an ant must feel when a magnifying glass gets focused on it in the heat of summer.

When he made no move to attack, Vale tentatively released her bow and sat back down.

Ian did the same, but it was hard for him to suppress the chill of fear that ran down his spine. It was a feeling of pure instinct, on a level he did not fully understand but he knew better than to ignore it. Danger, Ian McClintoc, Danger. The phrase kept repeating over and over in his head.

The massive man strode over towards the head of the table, his movements light and easy despite the weight of his armor. The floorboards, however, voiced their protest at having to hold up such an absurd man. They creaked and groaned as he walked across them to join Ian and Vale at the table. As Intinmdus Maximus sat down Ian expected the chair to shatter but aside from a few squeaks and creeks, it held firm. On the table in front of him, the lawyour placed a short stack of parchments.

Ian immediately recognized them as the forms they had filled out in the lobby. He swore he’d watched them incinerate. He’d thought it was odd when Sharlot destroyed the documents yet here they were sitting on the table.

“So, what can the Justiciar firm do for you today?” The lawyour asked. His voice was unnaturally deep, and his tone conveyed an implication of toying, as a cat does with its prey.

“You can tell me how you got those papers when I saw them go up in flames!” Ian spat out accusingly. He imagined it involved magic, but he needed to play dumb and here was a fine opportunity.

Vale only blinked at him, completely thrown by the statement. “You just said that you witnessed them going up in flames! That is how he acquired them. They were sent up to him through carrier flames. How else would one move documents with efficiency and speed?”

“Well met Gent,” She said turning to the lawyour, “My name is Olayne Eveningfall, and this is my friend and reason for coming to see you, Targel. We do not know his surname at the present moment. You see, he is a victim of illicit hexing magic. You must pardon his outburst as I fear it is simply another side effect.” She paused to allow the lawyour to offer his name, but after it became apparent that he would not be supplying it, she continued. “As such, we seek justice against the witch or wizard who conjured these hexing spells. Your firm was recommended to us from another of my human acquaintances who was quite impressed with your services.”

Vale explained the specifics of her not-so-false lie. She went over she’d found Targel in the middle of the Ironwood Forest with no recollection of how he had arrived. How she’d brought him here not only to seek Justiciar Law’s services but also because it was a city with one of the largest human populations in Paragore. That he couldn’t remember his home, barely remembered his name, and was completely and utterly at a loss as to the events that transpired in the last several days. She’d hoped that something in the city might jog his memory, but nothing had so far.

“Perhaps you would even be equipped to take over our unsuccessful investigation?” Vale finished with a plea. “I would like to return home, but I do not want to leave Targel until I am sure that he is in capable hands.”

The lawyour sat motionless throughout the tale. He took no notes, made no comments, and gave no hint as to his belief or disbelief. If it hadn’t been for the occasional blink Ian would’ve thought the man a statue.

“Well,” He spoke at last, “That is quite the story. I need to speak to some of my associates about this before we proceed. I think that I may be able to help you personally.”

The hairs on the back of Ian’s neck stood on end at “personally,” but he remained quiet.

Vale sat silent, her eyes trying to penetrate to the lawyour’s very core.

“Where will you be staying, that I might reach you with our decision?” The lawyour asked.

“We will be staying at the Five Crowns Hotel. I will leave your name at the front desk when we arrive so that they can direct you to the appropriate pscry when you call. I am sure that you understand this type of investigation is time sensitive, so I thank you for meeting with us so swiftly. I know that your time is valuable, Mister...?” Vale probed.

“DeBarro. Dakon DeBarro,” Dakon supplied in his deep timbre, like the purr of a wise jungle cat who would rip out a man’s throat as soon as look at him. “Yes, of course. I’ll confer with my colleagues shortly and will be in touch tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Dakon slid back from the table and stood, still moving with complete obliviousness to the weight of his armor. He gestured them towards the door through which they had entered with an outstretched arm.

Taking the cue Ian and Vale made their way out and back down the hallway towards the floortal. Ian felt immediately better once the floortal doors closed. He wasn’t sure if it was due to being safely out of sight of the imposing man, or simply being on their way back outside where they could get lost in the crowd. He managed to contain himself and save his questions until they had safely collected Mal and made their way into the flow of foot traffic.