(Dyn)

  From the outside, the League of Adventurers’ Hall looked like any rand bureaucratic building, with its symmetrical ns, uplighting, and rge tral dome. As Dyn stepped through the bronze doors, he took in the grand lobby: marble walls, ns, lines, and intricate geometric shapes framing everything.

  He looked up at the kaleidoscopic stained-gss dome high above. Even at night, the prismatic colors were beautiful—he couldn’t imagine how they’d look during the day. At the ter of the lobby, a waterfall staircase cascaded down from the sed floor, spilling onto the first.

  Charles seemed to be looking around as much as Dyn.

  “Is this your first time here?” Dyn asked, tilting his head toward Charles, noting the elf’s gnces around the lobby.

  “No,” Charles muttered absently, his eyes still drifting from one archway to the .

  They entered on the first floor. Dozens of archways lihe walls, each with its own ASMR-indug sign listing a different hall or office. Dyn read a few: Crafting Hall, tracts Hall, Information Hall, Retionships Hall, and Fred’s Office.

  The st oood out because the door looked familiar—a simple red door. He’d seen a simir one on Market Street, and the sign also mentioned someone named Fred. All the other doors had ornate carvings and dark purple wood, reminding him of the plum floors at Ebonscale. Charles still looked lost.

  “You sure you know where we’re going?” Dyn asked, raising an eyebrow as he gnced between Charles and the signs.

  “Yes.” Charles turned, searg the signs oher side of the lobby.

  Dyn didn’t believe him. He looked up at the fancy metal railings spanniweeall stonework ns on the sed floor. It was a relief to see someone in this world believed in structural safety features. If he could just vihem the terror tubes needed railings too…

  Two hallways, one on each side, shot out from the ter of the lobby. Expansive murals caught his attention—they moved. From afar, he watched an epic battle unfold, a hero defeating a giant monster. It led to another heroic se, then another. Curious, he wondered when they’d repeat. Charles hadn’t moved, still cheg the signs.

  “Because it looks like you’re lost,” Dyn teased, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Charles’s eyes dart from sign to sign.

  “I’m not lost,” Charles said, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “It’s just been a while.”

  The third floor was too high up to get a good look, and there wasn’t an obvious way to reach it. The grand lobby echoed with official bureaucratic business.

  A citrine-scaled drai with a twin-axed crest excused herself as she walked past Dyn, hauling a cart filled with leather, fabrics, and threads. She made her way to the Crafting Hall. He wao follow and see if she was making a delivery or fashioning something for herself.

  The Crafting Hall sounded like it had a lot of cool stuff. He debated asking Charles if they could check it out after registration. ‘I’m literally on fire’ switched to ‘it stabs when I touch it,’ and Dyn ged his mind. The Crafting Hall could wait until after registration and the hospital.

  Turning back toward the doors they’d entered, Dyn asked, “Is there a directory we could check?”

  “Directories don’t work here. The rooms keep moving around,” Charles said, taking two steps forward to look at ann, his mouth moving silently as he read it to himself.

  “Yeah, they’re stantly remodeling ba Earth, too,” Dyn said, still looking for a directory.

  “No, the building doesn’t ge; the offices just rearrahemselves sometimes.”

  “On their own? How do they do that?” He gave up on the directory and rejoined Charles.

  “Magic.”

  “If the offices magically move, why ’t the directories magically update?” Dyn asked, trying to uand how magic worked.

  “I don’t know. My guess would be for security reasons.” Charles found what he was looking for. He poio an archway all the way in the back er and said, “This way.”

  The sign dispyed: Registration Hall. Dyn didn’t think they could fit much of anything in that tiny er, let alone aire hall. He was about to say something when an actual mountain of a man emerged from the tracts Hall. The walking gray statue wore leather boots, mail pants, and a leather harness across his chest.

  Dyn did a double take. While Abs had a disgustingly fit frame, this giant stone man had an actual chiseled physique, rock-hard abs—the works. Dyn couldn’t say it was Maybelline because this guy was fug born with it. He looked up at the seven-and-a-quarter-foot-tall gray giant and stared as he moseyed by.

  The sight from behind was even more amazing. Dyn couldn’t blink, let alourn away, transfixed by the pair of well-proportioned, curvy, thick aegis strapped to the man’s back. He started tapping Charles’ shoulder repeatedly.

  “What?” Charles asked, swatting Dyn’s hand to stop it from tapping him.

  “Two shields, Charles. He’s got two of ‘em,” Dyn said. ‘The best offense is a good defense,’ he thought, chug. He’d never dreamed of anything as crazy as dual-wielding shields. What other marvelous things would magic show him?

  “e on.” Charles took hold of Dyn’s arm, dragging him toward the Registration Hall.

  “So, what do they do here?” Dyn asked, sidestepping closer to Charles, curiosity pushing him forward.

  Without stopping, Charles looked up at the ceiling and said, “tracts.”

  Dyn followed his gaze, looking up as well. The stained gss really retty. Distracted by the y of it all, Dyn didn’t notice when Charles pushed the buttoo the double, curved doors.

  Ding! Dyn’s face went pale as he shot Charles a look of fusiorayal, and terror.

  “Not the terror tube!” Dyn excimed. He made a run for it, but Charles still had a grip on his arm and held firm. “No,” he cried, “not again!”

  “Stop ag like a yearling a in the geolift,” Charles said, tossing him in.

  The doors closed, and Dyn buried his fato the rugged elf’s shoulder, holding on for dear life. Charles sighed as the chubby man hugged him. When the doors opened, both were relieved to step out.

  “Why are there no railings?” Dyn demanded once free of the stupid geolift.

  “Railings? What for?”

  “So, I don’t fall a caught between the wall and the lift.”

  “You ’t. There’s a tai field. It’s just transparent.”

  “Invisible railings? Jesus, someone should put up a warning sign.”

  “Why would a up a warning sign saying the geolift is safe to use?” Charles ignored him and started down the hall.

  “What are tracts?” Dyn asked, following him.

  “That’s plicated,” Charles said, reading the signs above the dain.

  Dyhe brain-tingling signs: Adventurer’s Ability Registration, Adventurer’s Written Exam Room, Adventurer’s Practical Exam Room, and Mundarations. Charles was leading them to that st room. The hallway rumbled with the sounds of distant explosions as they walked past the Adventurer’s Practical Exam Room. Dyn wondered which Michael Bay movie they were pying in there. Then he remembered this wasn’t a movie theater, and those were probably real explosions. He picked up his pace, following close behind Charles.

  Charles grasped the doorknob. With a twist and a pull, he ope, motioning for Dyn to go in ahead of him.

  While this room had a different feel, it still carried that fancy-as-fuck vibe. The architects had incorporated wood elements into the suite, something he’d seen little of since arriving in Dartmouth. Only the ceiling and floors kept their strict marble positions.

  Rich, plum-colored panels lihe walls, eak gleaming with a deep, warm luster. Intricate moldings framed the panels, creating a sense of timeless elegance. Even the furniture matched, with rounded ers and a cquered finish. Padded chairs lihe closest wall, serving as the waiting area. Dyn's eyes nded on the ter running the length of the room, separating them from the loendant.

  If he didn’t know aer, he could’ve assumed they’d walked into one of those elegant Victorian bank lobbies ba Earth. Except, of course, he was on an alie—and there was an ostentatiously dressed elf standing behind the ter.

  Dyn didn’t know what he was looking at. He looked like a time-traveling elf role-pying as an 18th-tury human.

  ‘What in the shit fuck is this?’ he wao ask.

  Abs, Charles, and the handful of other elves he’d seen all had straight or, at most, wavy hair, but this guy’s golden, tightly curled ris bou his jawline. His wine-colored jacket had a long, stiff colr that stopped just shy of the bottom of his obviously permed curls.

  Dyn was tempted to feel if the crushed velvet was as soft as it appeared. The front of the jacket featured embroidered chevrons, flowers, and leaves in golden yellows, es, and white. The double-backed sleeve cuffs had the same intricate details as the front.

  The jacket swooped back, revealing a tight-fitting bck vest fastened with a row of purple gemstotons. High-waisted pants disappeared uhe vest, made from the same wine-colored velvet as the jacket. Dyn had to know, so he approached the ter to peer over it.

  ‘I k.’ The pants stopped just above his knees with an inch-wide bck band. Tight white socks ran down from his knees, disappearing into polished white shoes. On his tiptoes now, he straio lean further and firmed the shoes had inch-high heels. Only slightly disappointed, he wondered, ‘Where’s the tri hat?’

  “Ahem.” The pretentious elf cleared his throat loudly. Dyn looked up to see a neckpieches from his face. White like his socks, it ed around the elf’s neck like a wide, stocky, poofy ie.

  “Sorry,” Dyn said, pnting both feet ba the ground and taking a half step back to give the elf some space. Dyn noticed a pin on the jacket. His brain buzzed as the letters transted: Marlin.

  “Marlin?” Dyn asked. He thought he looked more like a Miles or a Rupert, holy.

  “Yes, sir,” Marlin said in his proper posh at.

  “Like the fish?” Dyn asked. Marlin turo Charles, verifying what he’d heard was correct. An exhausted Charles shrugged. Dyn also turo Charles and asked, “Do you guys have marlin on Mother ons?”

  “Yes,” Charles said, giving him another worried look. “He’s standing right here in front of us.”

  “He also hear you,” Marlin leaned in, l his voice slightly as he addressed both of them.

  “I suspect he has a cussion,” Charles said, stepping up to the ter a few feet from Dyn and leaning against it.

  “That is unfortunate,” Marlin said.

  “Indeed,” Charles agreed.

  “Do you have an appoi?” Marlin reached into a draulled out a thin stoablet, about the size and shape of an iPad.

  Dyn turo Charles and said, “I thought you said we didn’t need an appoi.”

  “We don’t,” Charles said.

  “Please accept my apologies, but we do not take walk-ins this te in the evening. If you would like to stop by during the day tomorrow, there will be someone who assist. Or I schedule an appoi for another evening.” Marlin tapped the stoablet, and a holographic overy appeared, like a s.

  “Whoa,” Dyn marveled. “Is that an iStone?” He frowhat didn’t sound right. “iRoo. The iSte?” He gave up guessing.

  Marlin flicked his fingers, the dispy scrolling in response, and asked, “Is he alright?”

  Charles raised both hands in a shrug. “Unsure. I found him this way.”

  Still mesmerized by the rockPad, Dyn pointed and asked, “What’s that?”

  “Teology,” Marlin said. He gave Dyn a quizzical expression and looked back at Charles. “Pardon me. Has he ever seen teology before?”

  Charles looked at Dyn and asked, “How does a world with eight billion people not have teology?”

  Dyn rolled his eyes and said, “We have teology. I mean, how—”

  “Eight billion?” Marlin interrupted. “On a single world?”

  “And you couldn’t imagihe waste they gee…” Charles said, still processing their earlier versation. “But we’re not here to report that crime. He’s a refugee, and we o get him into the system.”