Ian peeked an eye open. And found himself staring at a bare stone floor, the light was gone. He dropped his raised arm, and his mouth went with it. They were on top of a short tower surrounded by glass, with a panoramic view of the city’s downtown. Ian rotated in a slow arc to take it all in, a true city of magic and wonder.

Old worn buildings of faded gray stone displayed the city’s age like badges of honor. More modern-looking buildings of metal and glass filled the gaps between them. The metal and glass titans of engineering looked like a cross between ancient castles and modern office buildings. Conical towers reaching many stories into the air marked the corners of some high rises. Another shorter, building had several stone spheres floating a hundred feet over the roof. Each one anchored by a thick chain, easily as big around as an Okalla. Each feat of architecture had a unique design, without a care as to its neighbor’s color or shape.

“You’re crushing my hand,” Vale’s voice intruded on his awestruck thoughts.

“Sorry,” He said dropping her hand.

Vale flexed her fingers and then headed towards the only exit, stairs set in the floor leading down. Metal sconces lit by glowing white crystals hung from the walls of the stairwell, lighting their way. Mal shook his body vigorously, although not a single drop of water remained on any of them. Then the wolf trotted over, gave Ian a nip in the heel, and disappeared down the steps.

“Ow hey! Oh, wait!” Ian pulled away from the windows and followed the pair.

“That was just the incoming traveler area. Down here is the Transmission Spring of Raxal and the way out into the city proper.” Vale said as they came to the end of the stairs.

As they hit the ground floor Ian saw the Transmission Spring. A mirror of the first, except that in place of an elf, the central statue portrayed a human and a dragon. More members of the Order of Brass stood around the Spring waving people through and checking bags, barrels, and crates.

“Are all of the Transmission Springs so heavily guarded?” Ian asked as they moved past the guards.

“Typically, yes. For all the conveniences the Transmission Network provides the Springs themselves are a great vulnerability. It is why the Brassmen are the guards. Since they are a truly neutral power. Everyone trusts the Order of Brass,” Vale’s last words had a tinge of jealousy to them.

When they stepped out into the city that same warm spring weather greeted them along with a host of smells that could only exist in a city. There were people everywhere. Street vendors hawking everything from food to timepieces. Herds of pedestrians and a variety of vehicles clogged the streets. Horses, carriages drawn by a wide assortment of animals, flying carpets, hovering discs, and even some winged magical creatures soared overhead. The chaotic streets put D.C.’s rush hour to shame; Ian couldn’t track it all at once despite trying his best to do just that.

His head whipped around to follow a winged horse. Then back to the street as an animal with twelve legs let out a bleating honk as a carriage cut it off. He snapped out of it when he noticed Vale was leaving him behind, darting quickly through the crowd, careful not to lose track of his diminutive guide. Ian was equally overwhelmed by the number of species that made up the collective “people.” Almost like he’d been thrown into a massive convention with elaborate cosplays. However, these costumes of dwarves, orcs, elves, and all the rest happened to be real.

Not watching where he was going Ian bumped into a monstrous man. He glanced up to apologize and found it was not a man at all. The goliath possessed the head of a dragon and a humanoid body covered with deep azure scales where his armor didn’t cover. Several angry-looking horns framed his reptilian face, sweeping back from the forehead and temples like a 1950s greaser.

“Watch it, tiny!” The dragon-man shouted, looking down at Ian as he passed. One of his clawed hands went to his back where the pommel of a sword was peeking out from over his shoulder.

Ian held up his hands defensively. “Sorry, I’m new...” New? New to what, walking? What the hell brain? He made an apologetic nod and then darted off after Vale, who hadn’t stopped marching towards an impressive stone-brick and glass high rises. Mal assisted by bumping against Ian’s leg to steer him in the right direction. As he waded his way forward he heard a snarl, followed by a grating, angry hiss as a final remark from his new blue friend. It didn’t matter the language; Ian could understand a curse when he heard it.

“What was that!?” Ian asked when he caught up to Vale.

“Half-dragon,” Vale said after sparing a quick backward glance. “Azure family, if the scales are any indication. Not uncommon in the larger cities such as this. Do keep up. I cannot watch out for you and myself at the same time with this many people around. Honestly, you seem better suited to cut a path through this crowd anyway.”

It was true, the strangers were not putting much effort into avoiding the tiny elf. If it weren’t for her fierce emerald eyes exuding pure confidence, Ian was sure she’d have been trampled by now. Ian focused on keeping up and avoiding any more run-ins with the crowd.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Ian asked.

“I’m helping you,” Vale exhaled sharply in response but continued walking. “Did I not explain this already?”

“You started to, but I didn’t have a chance to ask you about the specifics.”

“Essentially, we are following The Seer’s orders. Locate the Court, get the Star Chart of your homeworld, and then will use it to get you home. We have reports of an operation of theirs in Raxal under the guise of a law firm. We are heading toward the Lawyour District and we’ll find the office from there.”

She grabbed his arm at the elbow and pulled them out of the flow of foot traffic. They wound up in an alcove, above them stone gargoyles issued proclamations and announcements about events going on inside.

“WEDDING TODAY!! Flintspear and Roaraxe in the Floating Hall!”

“Get the most for your gold here at Ironside Traders!”

“Grot trial today! Lawyour Fenix and Lawyour Harlsbrow presiding!”

Vale waited for a break in the ads, “Ian I know that you are feeling out of your depth. This is a lot to take in but we will get you home,” She gave his arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Right now, you are going to have to trust me, alright?”

Ian’s eyes searched hers and he found reassuring confidence staring back at him. He drew in a breath, “Okay. I’m just not used to feeling out of control.”

She flashed him another smile and then pushed her way back into the crowd.

Mal, seeing that Ian wasn’t going to be of any help, stuck close to her side as she advanced, acting as a buffer between her and the masses. Everyone was quick to clear a path, unwilling to argue with the massive wolf’s presence.

Ian stepped quickly to fill in the gap Mal created. “So, there is a legal system here then? I heard one of the gargoyles spouting out about a lawyer. You have police and legal system of some kind?”

“Well, I am not entirely sure what you mean by police, but we do have courts and trials yes. Since laws are numerous and ever-changing, Raxal, along with most civilized kingdoms, have lawyours as representatives for citizens. The term is intended to remind us that the laws exist to protect the people. That is, they belong to us and are there for our benefit. Yours, mine, ours. Lawyours,” Vale said while ducking around a squad of gnomes.

“How exactly do these lawyers represent the citizens?” Ian asked, while almost tripping over the same squad. He had to strain to hear her response over the rapid squeaky shouts of the gnomes.

“It is lawyour,” She said, correcting his pronunciation, “And most often trials go on until one opponent is unconscious, is no longer fit for combat, or until one party concedes. Sometimes they are fought to the death. Different requirements for different accusations and any credible evidence will impact those requirements. Once a fight is concluded, the accused either go free or are sentenced. I believe here in Raxal they are imprisoned for a time. In Landorei the sentence is usually monitored public service.”

“You mean to tell me that your courtrooms are what? Battlegrounds?” He asked after extricating himself from the angry gnomes.

She laughed and looked back at him with an amused grin. “No. Trials do not take place in a courtroom, and they certainly don’t take place on a battleground. We have arenas surrounded by magical shielding. We are not savages who disregard the welfare of innocent bystanders.”

“Oh,” Ian said lamely. Though his mind was putting together some very interesting gladiatorial fights. “The fights are also for entertainment then?”

“Yes, but it’s not as barbaric as it might sound. The entertainment usually goes to helping pay for the lawyours fees and other costs associated with holding a trial. It keeps the accused and accuser from financial ruin. And all lawyours have to go through a period as a public litigant to renew their privileges. If you went to trial it is possible to end up with the greatest lawyour in the kingdom as your defender. Truthfully it is a rather dull process, except in the most extreme of circumstances. Murder, corruption, and high theft being some of the worst offenses.”

Before she even had to ask Ian launched into an explanation of how the legal system worked on Earth. It made him feel at ease to discuss something normal rather than fantastical. Even if that topic was as dry as a desert. His elven guide seemed most curious about the jury and how it was selected.

“How do you prevent these peers from having an agenda of their own? How do you keep influence from outside sources away?” Vale asked. “It sounds to me like a system all but begging for corruption.”

“It’s kind of a problem,” Ian said with a shrug, “Particularly keeping the jury away from outside influence. Technology has made information all but instant. I try to focus on the importance of what I do rather than the trial after the arrest. If I do my job right then the trial will go smoothly. If not, well, sometimes people get away with their crimes.”

Vale glanced back at him, “And your job is to catch the villain yes?”

“Essentially,” Ian elaborated, “What I do is get the murderers, rapists, and their ilk off of the streets. Usually by collecting the evidence that proves, beyond a reasonable doubt, that they’re guilty. Then the judge sends them away to a place where they can’t harm the innocent anymore. Some states have the death penalty, but it’s slowly going away.”

“Some lawyours do not bother with evidence collection. They rely on their skill at arms. But a good one will go out and try to prove his client's innocence before the fight. Credible evidence allows them to fight with a handicap, which of course improves their odds of victory. And lawyours only fight for major crimes,” Vale explained while pulling Ian into a shop. Mal sat outside watching the crowd.

The shop had a seemingly random assortment of merchandise for larger species. It only took a few minutes to find Ian a much more reasonable pair of shoes. His new pair of soft black leather boots succeeded in quieting the pain of yesterday’s blisters. While they shopped several minotaurs had come and gone. None of them wore shoes on their feet, which were cloven hooves, but one purchased a dress coat that was large enough to have served as a tent.

They came to a halt a few blocks later, in front of a building that was as nondescript as the rest. In fact, very few signs or addresses were posted anywhere, at least as far as Ian could see. He moved to Vale’s side as a gust of wind blew through the street, catching her high ponytail and flipping her long blonde hair into her face.

“Pbtth!” Vale spat as wind and hair continued to bombard her.

Ian reached a hand out to brush it aside. Her hair was so soft, his fingers lingered far longer than they should have. Like spun silk. When he finally removed them Vale was giving him a puzzled look, though she did not appear to be upset at the gesture. Ian cleared his throat, quickly turning from side to side pretending to assess their surroundings. Ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks in the process.

Vale nodded towards the cluster of buildings across the street. “If memory serves, this is the legal section of the city,” She looked him over with a critical eye, stopping on his comparatively short, dirty blonde hair hanging only down to eye level. The fashion in Paragore was decidedly longer, regardless of race. “Once we’re inside their office be careful about what you say. Do not mention that you’re from another world. Just let me handle the talking and we should be in and out. Keep an eye out for anything… unusual,” She said, flashing him a teasing smile and moved across the street.

Mal gave Ian another firm nudge urging him to keep up.

“I’m not a sheep, you know,” Ian said, looking down at the wolf.

Mal huffed in response and kept nudging him along.

Vale led them into the center of a cluster of high rises. In the square stood a directory that listed buildings and the tenants inside. Ian glanced down the list, companies such as Murcod’s Curse Removal, Nevernight Mage Light, and one listed as P.E.T. Extermination.

Her fingers traced the directory, which was written in several languages, stopping at the top. There it read Justiciar Law, one of the few written in spellskrit, in bold red letters. Beside it listed them in the Dragonaught building, number 42.

“They are still here. Looks like they are on the seventeenth to twenty-first floors,” She said leaning back from the directory and looked around, “In that building over there,” She pointed towards a structure that was covered in milky blue glass. “I will see about getting us an appointment with one of their lawyours. It is fortunate for us that you already look like a victim.”

Ian set his face into a scowl, not entirely sure how to take that comment.

Vale gave Mal’s head a scratch and then directed him towards an area where a couple of other animals were waiting patiently. There was a red-brown wolf half the size of Mal. Another creature resembled a more ferocious-looking version of a Bengal tiger, which had six legs, two elongated tails, and saber-tooth fangs. The last was a brightly colored bird about the size of a condor, with the feathers of all the colors in the rainbow, and talons made out of fire. It was like a bike rack, Ian noted, only the bikes in question were murderous predators.

“Have fun, do not eat the bird,” Vale said cheerfully.

The massive wolf let out a grunt and stalked over to the small animal pen. He circled once and sat down in an empty space across from the tiger. He staunchly ignored the curious sniffs of the other wolf, pretending to be enthralled by the view of the crowd.

Vale and Ian made their way into the lobby of the building and over to a portly elderly gentleman sitting behind an elaborate desk. He pointed them to the bay of floortals and they took the first one that arrived up to the law office floor.