Sandon gave him a frown. ‘They’re not. The Bureau’s monitoring apparatus is more sophisticated now than it’s ever been. Here we are.’
The Bureau of Dungeoneering was an unassuming office, nestled between a branch of Discount Dungeon Supplies and an imposing Gothic building with signage that identified it as Nick Romancer’s Funeral Parlour. Inside, it was an open plan office that stretched farther back than Grim had imagined. Filing cabinets lined the walls. Several desks were staffed, paper racks full of forms sitting on top of them. Each desk was identified by a wooden nameplate: Registration; Magical Goods Declaration; Applications for Dungeon Crawls; Records; Financials; Human Resources; Non-Human Resources; Appeals, and so on.
They approached the desk marked Registration. A tall, willowy woman regarded them stern-faced from her little kingdom of paper, ink and rules. The thought of navigating the registration process filled Grim with a peculiar kind of dread, and he experienced a strange kind of relief when it was ended before it had begun.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the woman, not sounding very sorry at all. ‘Your kind can’t register,’ she declared, pointing a long finger at Og-Grim-Dog.
‘Why not?’ demanded Og.
‘Because you’re an ogre,’ she explained, a sour look on her face as if she had just been fed goblin dung. ‘There are rules here, you know.’
‘That’s discrimination!’ shouted Og. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Whoa, let’s calm down,’ intervened Assata with a look to Grim. ‘I’m sure we can sort this out.’
‘Yes, settle down Og,’ Grim said to him quietly, so that no-one else could hear. ‘Remember why we’re here, after all. We need to find out how the system works. Let our new friends deal with it and we will observe the process.’
Grim turned to speak to Dog who looked at him with puffy eyes.
‘When are we getting food?’ Dog grumbled.
‘Wait a little while longer,’ Grim pleaded.
‘Now,’ Assata was saying to the woman, a fixed smile on her face. ‘The five of us have registered individually. We just need to add Og-Grim-Dog and register as a party of six. We all vouch for him and are prepared to work with him. I agree to be held personally liable for any damage he does. But I assure you, there won’t be any.’
The woman looked down her nose at Assata in much the same way as she had looked at Og-Grim-Dog. ‘It’s not a question of vouching or promises. It’s the rules. And he is not allowed.’
‘That’s discrimination!’ Assata shouted at the woman.
Raya led Assata away and Sandon replaced her in front of the desk.
‘Now, now,’ said the wizard. ‘You say it is the rules and we understand that. Might I see the rules?’
‘You can,’ the woman said, sounding a little more reasonable. She pointed across the room. ‘If you go to Records, they can provide a copy for you to peruse.’
Sandon raised his eyebrows at the rest of them and made for the Records desk.
‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense,’ growled Gurin, and grabbed Og’s arm. He guided Og-Grim-Dog towards yet another desk: Non-Human Resources (NHR). ‘Raya!’ he called, and the elf dutifully came with them.
They found Non-Human Resources unstaffed. Gurin tapped the bell on the desk repeatedly, making a tinny ringing sound that eventually attracted someone.
‘Oh, great,’ Gurin said in a sarcastic voice as the member of staff approached. ‘A centaur.’
‘That’s bad?’ Grim asked.
‘Centaurs are just about the most useless of creatures you could ever meet,’ said the dwarf.
Raya gave Grim an apologetic little smile.
The centaur clopped up to the desk with his four horse legs. His top half was human, as naked as the rest of him, with a muscled torso and arms.
‘Can I help?’
Gurin sighed. ‘Let’s hope so. My friend here has just been denied registration with the Bureau. This is exactly the kind of thing Non-Human Resources should be all over. It’s blatant discrimination.’
‘Hmm,’ said the centaur, looking Og-Grim-Dog up and down. ‘Ogre?’
‘Of course he’s an ogre,’ said Gurin irritably.
‘I don’t recall an ogre ever being on our books, to be honest, but I can check. Two seconds,’ he advised, and trotted over to one of the filing cabinets, where he pulled open one of the drawers and began flicking through the files therein.
Grim turned his neck to look over at Records. Sandon, Assata and Brother Kane were waiting there, presumably for someone to appear with a copy of the registration rules.
The centaur from Non-Human Resources (NHR) returned to the desk.
‘I’m so sorry, we’ve never had an ogre on our books before. We once had a giant, if that’s any help,’ he said.
A wet sounding thud on the floor of the office could be heard after this statement.
‘Did you just crap on the floor?’ Gurin asked him.
The centaur turned around to look, revealing a pile of horse dung.
‘Oh yes, so I did. Don’t worry, I’ll get that cleaned up in a minute.’
‘That’s pretty disgusting,’ said Gurin.
‘The thing is,’ Raya piped up, ‘we were really hoping that Non-Human Resources would represent our friend here. You know, demand he be allowed to register?’
‘Ah, I see. Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of thing we do. We represent all non-human adventurers who have been registered. If you have a query about Registration, you need to take it up with the Registration desk.’
‘We’ve just come from there,’ said the elf through gritted teeth. ‘They said he can’t register.’
‘Right. Well, I’m not sure what the rules are to be honest. Can I suggest asking to see a copy from Records?’
‘Brilliant,’ said the elf. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They left for the Records desk. As they arrived, a member of staff arrived with a rolled-up piece of parchment and handed it over to Sandon. The wizard unrolled the scroll and placed it onto the desk. Og-Grim-Dog peered over the wizard’s shoulder for a look.
‘What does it say, Og?’ Dog asked.
All Grim could see were endless horizontal lines in a minute scrawl. If there were letters and words in there, he couldn’t make them out.
‘I can’t read that,’ said Og, sounding equal parts irritated and offended.
Everyone else in their party looked and came away shaking their head or muttering darkly.
‘Hmm,’ said Sandon, somehow keeping a light tone to his voice. ‘These rules seem to be a tad longer and more involved than I had anticipated. I suggest that Og-Grim-Dog and I pay a visit to my lawyer. If anyone can find a loophole, it’s Mr Agassi.’
‘Very well,’ Assata agreed. ‘The rest of us will get the provisions for the trip. We proceed on the basis that Og-Grim-Dog is coming with us.’
Everyone agreed. Grim found it touching that these people, whom he had only just met, were prepared to fight his corner rather than simply abandon him. It showed them in a very different light to the brutal murderers Queen Krim had described.