But public service is public service. Whether I handle this now while I'm still decidedly in "work brain" and stay late or wait until morning to have it take up a large section of my day, it's a wash. I don't have anything going on tonight, so it won't hardly matter.
"Just give me the packet. I'll see what I can do tonight. Then you get out of here before anyone else wanders in to impress upon your kindness and inability to say no." The white-haired assistant bobs his head at me, ears twitching to accentuate the chuckle he lets out at my highly accurate assessment of his character.
"Alright, Maxi. I can't stress enough that this will be an odd one, though. I'll bring them back in about five minutes — give you some time to read over the…interesting claims."
The pamphlet slides across the desk to me, having been tossed. Which causes it to knock a little statuette of the Watcher's eye over onto its side and to shift my pens out of place. It all makes me sigh as I correct things and open the document.
Allanius Parchess, no memories, from Meadowfields(Recent calamity site)
Ayre'A'Khana, claims to be a dragon? Has wings and scales, doesn't look like any dragon I've read about. No job experience, can build houses?
Lilidh O'Ceilidh, related to the fae, akin to a sidhe, traveling storyteller?
I think the technical term for what I'm about to have walk in my office is "a doozy."
I scan it a few more times to commit the inexplicable explanations to memory before closing it up. I much prefer to look at people doing my job. Not reading from a sheet while talking at my desk. With time to spare, I start to call essence from a little condenser on my desk — Cognitio — to shape into a basic imbuement to empower my memory for the coming discussion.
A minute later, the door opens, and what I expect will be the most interesting evening of the year — possibly my life — walks in. I immediately try to commit each to memory. I've never forgotten someone in need of support, and today won't be the day that happens.
The spell sigil bursts in my hand, so I press the essence to a bare spot on my wrist to release it into my bloodstream, where it flows round and round until most of the essence settles in my mind.
Eidetic Recall
Imbuement | Cognitio
The first: walking in with a wide, jagged-toothed smile that has bits of smoke and ash drifting out is…a young woman who is covered head to toe in metallic-toned scales and hair. She's garbed in some baroque, highly enchanted mail and has a huge swishing tail that looks like it could break my desk if she laid it atop and a pair of wings tucked in close. One of which is grievously wounded — apparently burned near down to bone. I make a mental note to look into medical care. It looks reasonably new, as far as wounds go, so with good enough care maybe it can be saved before it reflects on her shade permanently.
The second: a bubbly, very short, young woman with blonde hair, a nice, layered winter dress, holding a fine hat. She has razor-sharp features — the kind of cunning eyes that look like they could cut through glass with a quick enough look. But it's underpinned by a warmth in her smile and behind her eyes that belies her rather severe expression.
And finally the last one. A wholly average-looking human man with mid-length brown hair pulled back and tied loosely, steel blue eyes, and a practical-looking, sleeveless traveling outfit. The only thing about him that remotely stands out is that he's wearing a finely wrought sleeve over his right arm that is covered in amazingly complex sewn symbols and runes I've never seen before. That and the facial expression of someone who looks like the entire world was kicked out from underneath him and the only reason he's still moving is that he's falling.
The blonde all but falls over herself to start speaking ahead of the others, "First I really wanted to apologize. We meant to get here way earlier, but we got lost a few times. Now I'm not going to say it's anyone in particular's fault…" After speaking, she seems to compose herself better, giving off an erudite air of what feels official. Like someone who's used to keeping up appearances. Meanwhile, the young, scaled, woman — who I assume has to be the 'someone in particular' — shoots a dirty look at her more calm companion.
I wave it off hoping to head off that sort of argument. "You don't need to apologize. You made it while the office was open, so the office was open. If we were going to close earlier, we'd adjust the times. Please, take a seat. I usually only deal with one or two people at once, so my third chair is a good bit less nice than the other two, but it's comfortable enough, I think." The "dragon" looks at the arrayed chairs, looking uncomfortable for a few moments until I realize why. "Here, my chair is open backed, it'll probably suit you better."
I rise, standing taller than any of them, and buckling my knees just a hair to change that subtly. Nobody enjoys being towered over when asking for help, so it's something I do out of habit comfortably. My legs being jointed the way they are just makes it that much easier. We exchange my less comfortable third chair for my personal office chair after she tries to tell me not to and I make it clear that it's happening anyways.
Once everyone is seated, I sit for a moment, collecting my thoughts.
"To begin: my name is Maxi. I'm an advocate and social services representative under the charter of the Kharbon Wellness Consortium."
The blonde interrupts, apparently bursting with a realization. "Oh! Like on those machines that hand out drinks!"
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I nod, letting a dry smile fall, "That would be correct, though vending machines aren't my specialty. Before we go much farther, can each of you tell me how to say your names, and if you have any you would prefer I use for discussion? Any other details you wish to give — like how you would prefer to be referred to in terms of identity — would be appreciated as well. I endeavor to represent everyone I deal with as accurately as possible."
Each one gives me their full name, as well as a nickname or otherwise shortened version.
Lilly, Ayre, and Olly. Charming across the board. She, she, and he. Easy to keep track of.
"Now, I'm sure that you know exactly how… abnormal… all of this sounds, yes? I don't disbelieve anything, to be clear — I'm not an investigator. My job is to help people, but the important thing is getting to the bottom of the needs of the individuals."
Olly chimes in after I pause. "We were under the impression that we needed to transfer the ownership of the house? I also figured we probably would need to pay something like…back taxes or something. I read about it in a book once."
"Ah, yes and no. I can handle the transfer papers easily. That's a stamp and a signature and you're done. As to taxes, we'll cover that later. Because of what you're coming from we wanted to extend the offer of access to other services." I draw in a deep breath. Bringing this up is normally traumatic, but it has to be done. "Word of what happened to Meadowfields reached us recently." Every one of them shifts uncomfortably, looking anywhere in the room but at me. Which answers that question easily.
"It is the duty of the city, and the crown at large, to care for those displaced by tragedy." I gesture at the girls wing as an example. "I don't need to ask you for "proof" or anything like it. What concerns me is what you need to recover and thrive. Does that make sense?" A chorus of nods answer as I slide three sheafs of chits across the counter. Each one containing a few dozen little nullstone tabs with our office's sigil emblazoned on them in Ordo essence aspected to be identifiable.
"You inherited a home. That's great and will simplify your process of settling in. But these little packs are full of exchange chits. Should you need to purchase anything — from clothes to furniture, food to entertainment — these can be exchanged for functionally anything within the city limits. There's one pack for each of you and if you need more you just have to come back here and ask."
The scaled woman raises her hand politely, so I pause and gesture her way. "Doesn't that mean that those people are just…giving us things? Isn't that unfair to them? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the idea, but I don't want to abuse people's kindness."
"Will we need to pay them back? Is it just essentials?" The dour man asks a moment later.
"I don't have any questions, it makes sense to me." The final young woman responds when I shoot her the look of a question.
My turn. "The people who receive these will make an invoice for our offices and be compensated. Nothing to worry about there. Nobody will have any issues. They know these represent people who are in need and I know of very few people in the city who would refuse people in bad situations even if they weren't being compensated. As to essentials? Whatever you need to thrive is an 'essential' by our reckoning. Anyone can go sit in the woods and breathe in essence to get their 'essentials'. That is the root of the word, after all." I chuckle at the little joke, one of my favorites. "Society exists to make everyone better by making everyone better. It's really as simple as that."
"Finally, your other question. Paying things like this back is not something we expect or demand. Once you're settled and have work, you'll be paying taxes like anyone else, and some of that money will naturally go towards helping people in these situations. There are no debts involved. If one day you become fabulously wealthy and want to donate to our organization, it would never be turned away, but the majority of our funding comes from the Blackthorn and Vendala chartered families, independent donations, and the crown."
"I've talked a lot so far — it's something of a preprogrammed speech — so I know I can get carried away easily. Do you have any questions or concerns? Anything I could clarify?"
I sit back, giving them time as they chat amongst themselves, getting fairly animated at times. Overall, they remind me much of my own kids when they were this age. Resilient in the face of the worst the world has to offer by dint of supporting one another. The bickering is just a natural consequence of caring, I think.
The blonde, Lilly, comes up for air, though. "Question. I read many stories about organizations like this being traps to indebt people. I've heard that Eldara is a very supportive place, but this seems like a lot."
"Which part of that was the question, exactly?" I prod. It's not an uncommon question, but I want to know exactly where she's coming from with it.
She looks a little embarrassed, flustered, so her winged friend answers. "What she's trying to ask — how do we know that all of this is above-board? That we're not being set up for something unpleasant? We had a bad run in with some criminals in Silverbrook on our way here."
"Ah. I heard that they had been having some issues with smugglers recently. But to answer: You have my word, and the word of the crown behind it. I promise you that this isn't a trap, a trick, or anything of the like. I'm not Emberguard. I'm no fighter and I'm not about to strong-arm any of you. If you take these chits, spend them all, and then disappear from the city then all I would do is sigh and hope you're well wherever you land."
Olly and Ayre both look at the smaller woman, who nods, and everyone's faces relax. Evidently I passed a test of some stripe.
Olly speaks next. "You mentioned work?"
"Right, yes. That one is simpler. In short, I'm your point of contact for anything you might need. I have contacts to help get you work in any sector in the city — any sort of work you can imagine, really. I know people, and many of my best contacts are people who I helped in similar situations to you. But that's something that can happen in the coming weeks, or even longer if you need it." I gesture up at the clock. "I would like to set up individual meetings with each of you in the coming days to get a better grasp on what, exactly, I can do for each of you. Then, from there I'll do my work and check in periodically. The first "service" I have to give, though, is psychological support. I have a list of people experienced at working with people dealing with trauma and general psychological support. Couples counseling as well, if that's the sort of connection you all have."
I have to let a smile grow. The comment was more for my amusement than anything else. But the way that each of them immediately looks away from one another is incredibly cute.
"Otherwise, that's all I have for you tonight. I will get your title transfer done tomorrow, and stop by your home two weeks from today around noon to have those personalized discussions." I pause, "In the meantime, Ayre, may I suggest some clinics to look into for your wing? That's not something you'll want to delay getting looked into."
"Sure, I won't say no to any help."
"I'm glad to hear that. In that case, take this folder. It's full of support resources of all kinds, and if you need anything before we next meet, come here and ask for me. If what you need comes after hours, then my address is on the card on the front of the folder.
As a final note: I would like to extend you a warm welcome from Kharbon, officially, and hope you settle in well here — however long that might wind up being."
I stand, walking around the table to open the door. Each one thanks me as they pass through, looking like a weight has been lifted from their shoulders. Lots of uncertainty dispelled.
I love this job.
really going to be person-v-person except in lighter moments, controlled moments, or specific exceptions(Like our cursed amnesiac seemingly being hunted as, objectively, a very very dangerous monster)
Also, bonus chapter today because I don't like to leave things on an interlude without a main character perspective to round it out.