Remus exited his carriage in front of the City Watch station, a filthy building allergic to paint. Guards and officials were walking in and out of the wide front doors, laughing and talking to one another. Others were dragging people they had under arrest, various ages, shouting innocent stories or curses about someone’s mother.
Swimming his way through the crowd, he finally made it to the front desk. An old, bored guard was writing something into a large book. Introducing himself, the old guard gave him directions to where he needed to go.
Making his way up the flights of stairs, on the fourth floor he found the inspector’s office. The door was sitting open, showing a wide and partially messy room. The far wall had tall windows, sunlight shining in everywhere. Dust and smoke were highlighted all over, enough to make a chimney sweep look clean.
Two office desks sat facing one another in the middle of the room, cluttered with papers. Behind them, boards of information covered the walls, filled with documents, notes, pictures, and a tapestry of litter.
The desks had two men sitting at them, presumably the inspectors, Remus thought. The younger one looked like he was actually working, writing and reading through the papers on his desk with practiced grace. The other, the older one, was leaning back in his small chair, looking up at the ceiling, blowing smoke.
"Afternoon," Remus announced himself, knocking on the door gently. "I’m Professor Blake."
The smoker just nudged a lazy finger in a small wave, like royalty. The younger man stood from his desk and approached Remus with his hand outstretched.
"Professor, thank you for coming so quickly! I’m Junior Inspector Thomas," Thomas said, shaking Remus’s hand. "This is my partner, Inspector Plut. He isn’t being rude on purpose, it’s a medical condition."
Remus just smiled, placing a bit of nervousness into it. "I see. Well, I was told it was urgent. How can I help?"
"Straight to the point, excellent." Thomas beamed, leading Remus over to one of the boards covered in pictures. "We were hoping if you could give us some insight on—"
But he was interrupted by a grunt and the sound of a chair being pushed back quickly. Both men turned round to see Plut bent over, holding his stomach, groaning.
The older man turned to them. "Be right back..."
"Is everything alright?" Remus asked with worry.
Plut just eyed them both darkly. "Biscuits," he muttered before jogging out of the office, a faint door slamming shut in the distance.
Remus just slowly turned on his heel, eyeing Thomas with a raised brow.
"Ignore that." The junior inspector said calmly, as if this was normal. "Professor, we have one or two glyphs we would like your insight on."
Thomas ruffled through the parchment and pictures pinned on the board, taking out a large photograph of an intricate glyph. He pinned it on top of everything else, as Remus leaned forward to get a good look at it.
The photo was of a glyph drawn in chalk, slightly smudged, on an old wooden floor.
"This is a gravity well," Remus said immediately, with quiet confidence. Thomas turned to look at him quickly, slightly surprised at the quick assessment.
"And what does it do exactly?"
"It creates its own channel of enchanted gravity within the circle of the glyph, dependent on a strength variable," Remus answered, then pointing to a small portion of the glyph, indicating the variable. "By the strength of 10. Although the amount of mana charged into the glyph can affect this strength and potency as well."
"And what Grade is this kind of magic?"
"A mage would need to be of Grade Six status to even attempt something as complex as this." Remus nodded, not looking away from the photo once.
"What else could you say about the glyph, Professor?"
For the next few minutes, Remus pointed out and explained every part of the glyph, from the outside to the center." Thomas listened intently, writing the odd note in his book.
"Professor, for what purpose would something like this serve on the floor?"
Remus shook his head, musing. "A vicious snare, of some sort. The leg would be immediately crush—"
"Leg?" Plut asked.
Both men jumped, mildly startled. The senior inspector stood beside them, with his hands behind his back, also observing the photograph.
Remus’s startlement wasn’t feigned. He genuinely didn’t hear the small man return.
"Well, yes, inspector. Leg. A snare like this on the floor, it would be a trap for someone to step on first. Such force could easily crush a leg and hold them there until the mana dries out, if they do not die beforehand."
Plut just nodded slowly, his eyes remaining on the photo.
"A vicious snare, indeed." Thomas quietly agreed. "Is that all the portions of the glyph, Professor?"
Remus squinted his eyes, leaning further towards the glyph. "Not quite."
Both inspectors patiently waited for him.
"This," Remus said softly, his finger pointing at a small piece of the design. "This has no functional purpose. I believe this is a signature of some sort."
The two men also leaned further in, squinting at Remus’s finger.
"It looks like a hat," Remus whispered. "Or a bell or something."
Both inspectors stood straight, eyeing one another.
Later, after more discussion, and after the professor verified what their own mage told them about the other glyph, it was just Thomas and Plut left in the office.
"Grade Five mage at his age, quite impressive," Thomas commented absentmindedly, getting back to his paperwork.
"Hm," Plut grunted, which to Thomas was a glowing endorsement.
After a few minutes of nothing but the scribbling of a pen, Plut ventured. "Do we have Bell’s records yet?"
"No," Thomas answered, not looking up from his work. "The Records Hall is still closed."
Plut looked down from the ceiling, eyeing Thomas. In all of his years, he could never recall a time when the Records Hall was closed. "Closed? Since when?"
"Since last week. A freak accident from a pipe or something flooded the records basement. They shut down the place immediately to salvage what they could, I imagine they are still drying off what they can." Thomas joked.
"Last week, huh," Plut commented quietly, dabbing out his cigarette into an abused ashtray. "Well, when it opens again, obviously get any records with the surname Bell. And while you are at it, get Professor Blake’s too."
Thomas stopped writing, looking up at his partner in confusion. "Blake? Why?"
Lighting another cigarette, Plut waved the match out, tossing it behind him. "As you said. He was impressive. I like working with impressive people. I also like to know who I’m working with. I imagine we will be calling on him again in the future."