The Woodward Academy, Year 6

Chapter 1: June

"Are you ready for this, Sweetheart?" Chloe's father asked her. They were standing together outside the interview room at the Rimohr Callamandian Headquarters in Cormatsen.

"I guess so," she said, fidgeting. "I just wish David had gotten me that letter of recommendation he promised."

"Why didn't he?" her father asked.

Before Chloe could answer, off to their left they heard, "Because in-person recommendations usually carry more weight."

Chloe looked, and let out a huge sigh of relief. "David!" She gave him a strong hug when he got close enough.

When she finally let him go, she said, "You didn't have to come all the way down here for my interview. The letter was all I needed..."

David smiled. "I had to be here, anyway. So, are you ready?"

"I am now," she said.

The three entered the interview room. Mr. Kirkland found a chair along the wall to sit in. Chloe and David approached the interviewers, with Chloe leading. David stopped several paces behind her, but she stepped up to the podium and set down her folder.

"Good morning," she said to the three interviewers. "My name is Chloe Kirkland, and I am here to apply for admission to the Rimohr Academy."

"Good morning, Miss Kirkland. We have your application and we have looked it over. We have just a few questions."

The questions were straightforward, and Chloe answered them without trouble.

"We see here that your fifth-year grades are not yet available. Why is that?"

"They should be available soon, sir. I was in the infirmary for a month, during which time normal classes ended. I had to take my final exams after I recovered. I just finished them yesterday, as a matter of fact."

The reviewer nodded. Another one asked, "What were you in the infirmary for?"

"I..." Here, Chloe faltered. She looked a little panicked, and then looked at David.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm not sure how to describe the situation without a really long explanation," she told him.

David nodded, then stepped forward. "Miss Kirkland was injured while performing her duties as a Woodward Academy Discipline Response Team member."

"You are?" the interviewer asked.

"David Stroud. Formerly the Discipline Response Team captain. Miss Kirkland's immediate superior."

"You say she was injured while performing her duties. What, exactly, happened?"

"Miss Kirkland was betrayed by a colleague, and while transporting a detainee, she and another DIRT member were ambushed by a group of about a dozen people."

The interviewers spoke quietly for a second, and then turned back to David. "You say you were her immediate supervisor?"

"Correct."

"Did you ever accompany her in the field?"

"Many times."

"Can you give us your personal evaluation of her performance?"

"She was the best team member I had. She showed restraint, when necessary, and yet was able to apply force as needed. She has a strong awareness of situations, knowing when things are dangerous, and when they are merely annoying. She showed good leadership skills and excellent observational skills. I promoted Miss Kirkland to patrol leader after one of my original leaders showed himself to be unworthy of the position. I never once regretted that decision. In short, I wish I'd had a team of Chloes."

Chloe blushed at that last comment.

"That was a very strong endorsement of our applicant. Tell me, what is Miss Kirkland's worst flaw?"

"She takes things a little too personally," David said. "She was very upset about missing the final confrontation with the people who ambushed her, for instance. While I understand those feelings, and even share them, it is her strongest weakness, such as it is."

"That's not much of one," one of the interviewers said.

David shrugged. "She's good, what can I say?"

"Would you work with her as your subordinate again?"

"In a heartbeat."

"As an equal?"

"Yes."

"As your superior?"

David considered for a brief moment. "Yes."

"That response took a little longer."

"I'm more cautious about who I follow than who I lead," David said.

"Fair enough." The interviewers discussed some more things quietly, and then looked back at them.

"Miss Kirkland, your application for entrance into the Rimohr Academy has been approved. You are to report to the campus on Monday morning for orientation and processing."

"Yes, sir!" she said, snapping to attention. David smiled at her.

Once Chloe had gathered her things and stepped aside, David stepped up to the podium.

"You have something more to say, Mr. Stroud?" the interviewer asked knowingly.

"Yes, sir. My name is David Stroud, and I am here to apply to the Rimohr Internship Program."

Chloe turned in surprise. She had been about to leave, but she waved her father back to his chair, and sat beside him.

"You're aware that completion of the internship program will take longer than the academy?" one of the interviewers asked.

"Yes, sir. My reason for becoming an intern rather than a cadet is that I intend to continue with my schooling, but I would like to be ready to be a full-fledged Rimohr at the time I complete my academic career."

"How far into your schooling are you?"

"I just completed my fifth year."

"And how far are you intending to go?"

"My current plan is to complete all eight years at the Woodward Academy, sir."

"So you envision a three-year internship?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you would, I assume, want to work out of the office closest to Woodward, then?"

"Yes, sir, that would be the Bolmont office."

The interviewer smiled. "Yes, I know."

"Yes, sir," David said, grinning sheepishly.

"You have completed five years of schooling. Do you have your entrepreneurial license?"

"Yes, sir."

"What other qualifications do you bring with you? And, rather than list them in one breath, I'd like you to explain them one at a time, please."

"Yes, sir. Do you want them in chronological order, order of how important I think they might be to the job, or just how?"

"Let's go with biggest first. Do you have any titles?"

"Yes, sir. First off, I am a Potions Master second class, a member of the Royal Potions Guild."

"How long have you been a potion master?"

"A year and... eight?... months, sir. A year ago, last October."

"So, did you enter the guild as a second-class?"

"Yes, sir. I'm currently working on upgrading my membership to first-class status."

"I see. How would you do that?"

"It's mainly a matter of inventing potions. The more you invent, and the more useful they are, the higher your rank."

"Okay. How might you use this skill in your job as a Rimohr?"

"Well, of course, I know how to make truth potions, so I would be able to create those when the magistrate approved of them. Further, and more importantly, potion-making allows for solid forensic investigation of evidence."

"Perhaps you'd better explain," another interviewer said.

"For instance, if you have two substances, and you want to know if they are identical. There are some spells, but they are... shall we say a bit vague. On the other hand, there are a dozen or more potions which can tell you, with absolute certainty, if the substances match. There are other ways, as well. This is just the first one that comes to mind."

"Okay, good. Any other titles?"

"Yes, sir. I am a 4th-level Conjuring Master, a member of the Royal Conjuring Association."

"And how long have you had that mastery?"

"Less than a month."

"You entered the guild as a 4th-level?" another interviewer asked.

"Actually, I'm supposed to be a 5th-level, but there was no one present at my testing who could grant me that status, so yes, I'm officially a 4th-level."

"And how would this help your job as a Rimohr?"

"Logically, it can't."

"Excuse me?"

"Conjuring is a prohibited magic during criminal investigations, because there is too much a chance for easy manipulation of the evidence."

"Okay, then," the primary interviewer said, a bit surprised by David's knowledge. "Any more titles?"

"Yes, sir. I'm also a Peg Rider First Class, a member of the Peg Riders of Callamandia, a guild of which I am a co-founder and current co-chairman."

"And when did that guild form?"

"We were given royal permission last year, but our first official meeting was early February."

"So you know how to ride a pegasus?"

"I do so regularly."

"And how might this assist you as a Rimohr?"

"I have immediate high-speed transportation with an all-terrain capability," David said. "It allows me to go places quickly without having to worry about how to get there. Investigations often rely on speed."

The interviewers conversed with themselves for a second, then turned back to David. "Is there more?"

"Yes, sir. I am also a certified proraziveur, fourth level."

"And you obtained that..."

"In March."

"Why did you get that certification?"

"Because my Divination instructors wanted me to. They filed the application without my knowledge."

"I see. And, I know this may seem a dumb question, but how could you use this skill as a Rimohr?"

David smiled. "Well, that's rather obvious. Upon approval of the magistrate, it can be used to attempt to see past the work of an impediveur who is protecting an alleged criminal."

"Very good. I wanted to see if you'd remember the bit about the magistrate's involvement."

David nodded.

"Do you have any more official titles or certifications?"

"I have a license to carry a weapon."

The interviewers looked a bit surprised. "How much training have you had, and with which weapons?"

"I've had two years of Sword and Staff training."

"Your grades?"

"I was considered best of my intermediate class."

"Very nice. Anything else?"

David thought for a second. "No, that's the last of my official paperwork."

"Okay. What other qualities do you bring?"

"As a potions master, I am also an expert on Herbology, having spent three and a half years in classwork, plus a couple years in extra training with a fairy. This can be important if an investigation involves plant life somehow.

"I have investigative experience. In my fourth year at the Academy, I assisted first the Rimohr office in Bolmont, and then the school's security office, in tracking down a thief on campus. I also worked to clear the reputation of one of the Academy's instructors who was being harassed by her ex-husband.

"Next, I have law-enforcement experience, as the leader of the Discipline Response Team at Woodward Academy. The DIRT was a small group of upperclassmen designed to combat the growing misbehavior and violence at the academy.

"Third, I am a demighost. As a demighost, I have the ability to travel between worlds far more easily than your average individual. I have traveled through Haven, and have a passing understanding of how that world functions. As someone born in Earth, I have an intimate familiarity with the way that world works, as well. As such, I would not be hampered by an investigation that required me to move between worlds.

"Finally, I have a long-standing familiarity with my requested training officer, Agent Garibaldi. I am also familiar with some of the other current members of the Bolmont Division."

While the primary interviewer was writing some notes, one of the others asked, "You are aware of the limitations placed upon you, as a demighost, while functioning as an investigator?"

"Yes, ma'am. I must be at least visible at all times during anything I later testify to. I cannot collect evidence unless I am solid. I believe there are some other, smaller, issues, but those are the two big ones."

The woman nodded, then she asked, "Do you have any references or letters of recommendation?"

"Yes, ma'am." David conjured a folder from his Conjuring Room onto the table in front of the interviewer. "I have a letter of recommendation from Agent Garibaldi, first off. After that would be a letter from Seth Tupper, the head of security at the Woodward Academy, and my immediate supervisor as captain of the DIRT. After that is a letter from Dean Emile Lengel, Dean of Students at Woodward Academy."

"What, no letter from the king?" the third interviewer teased.

"I didn't want to bother him," David said in sarcastic reply. The other interviewers chuckled.

The primary interviewer spoke quietly to the other two, then turned back to David.

"We have Rimohr officers on the job with records that don't look nearly this good. Why do you think you need an internship? You could probably spend a month at the Academy and be on the job shortly thereafter."

"While I think that is probably true in a strictly technical sense, my concern is whether or not I am mentally and emotionally prepared to handle the position. What I'm hoping to gain from my internship is a better understanding of the mindset needed to perform real duties as a Rimohr. To date, my positions of authority have really allowed me the leeway to act more or less as I saw fit. I know that a Rimohr has to be more circumspect and restrained in his behavior, and so I'm looking to see if I have that within me, without wasting other people's time in the process."

"You might be wasting Agent Garibaldi's time..." one interviewer said.

"Yeah, but he'll forgive me. I'm godfather to his daughter," David said.

The interviewers chuckled again.

"Mr. Stroud, your application for admittance into the Rimohr Internship Program is hereby approved. On Monday, you will report to the Rimohr Academy for processing, registration, and some basic coursework about Dugerran law. After that, you will report to the Bolmont Divisional Headquarters and speak to Agent Wilson for orientation and further processing. After that, you will be assigned to Agent Garibaldi, who is, in fact, the only training officer available in the Bolmont Division."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Good luck, Mr. Stroud. Not that I think you're going to need it."

David smiled, packed up his paperwork, and turned to go. He was surprised to see Chloe and her father still there.

"I didn't know you were signing up, too," Chloe said as they all walked out of the interview room.

David shrugged. "I hadn't made up my mind until after the big fight. Something's got to be done about the problem. I may not be able to do much, but I'll do my part."

"Glad to have you aboard," she said seriously.

"Thanks. You guys want to go get something to eat, to celebrate?"

"We don't want to put you out," Chloe's father said.

David just snorted. "Come on."

"Okay, so, tomorrow, we will take an exam," the instructor said. "Those of you who pass the exam will move on to the next phase of your training. Those of you who do not pass the exam will have the joy of sitting through this course again. Any questions?"

Someone in the back asked, "How many times can we take the exam?"

"Three. If you fail it the third time, you will be asked to leave the academy."

The person sitting next to Chloe asked, "Hey, you never covered this in class... where does the Rimohr's authority come from, anyway?"

The instructor smiled. "We assumed you were paying attention in your history classes. For those of you who were, can anyone answer his question?"

Chloe raised her hand, and got an acknowledgment. "In 1427, the Council of Wizards established the Rimohrs as an international investigative body to deal with rogue wizards, who were becoming more common at the time, and were moving from one country to another to avoid the judicial forces of each separate nation. The council requires every national leader to re-ratify the Rimohr Treaty, which gives the Rimohrs the authority to come and go through any country as they see fit, and arrest a citizen of any nationality. In return, the Rimohrs will also enforce, locally, the laws of the individual kingdoms in which they are working."

"Very good, Miss Kirkland. Any other questions?"

David raised his hand.

"Mr. Stroud? You haven't asked a question all week. What's on your mind?"

"You've already answered all the questions I had, but something Chloe just said kind of spurred a question in my mind. What if I, as a Callamandian citizen, was required by my Rimohr duty to arrest the sitting Callamandian king? Which loyalty takes precedence? The oath I took as a citizen would seem to bar me from threatening the king's authority in this way."

There were murmurs in the group; none of them had thought of that.

The instructor smiled. "Damn, when you do ask a question, it's a doozy."

David grinned in embarrassment.

"So. What happens when the king goes rogue? According to the Rimohr Treaty, if the Rimohrs attempt to make a lawful arrest of a sitting national leader, that is, they have a warrant from the Council of Wizards to do so, then the national leader is required to immediately abdicate their throne. This prevents the issue you're talking about, because the person is then no longer your king, and your loyalty oath no longer applies."

"But what if the king refuses to abdicate?" David pressed.

"Most likely the royal court would take him into custody for you, and nullify his position as king."

"And if they didn't?"

"If the entire royal court refuses the lawful authority of the Rimohr officers, then they have violated the treaty. Violation of the Rimohr Treaty by the government would cause the Council of Wizards to declare the offending country a Rogue Nation. The status of Rogue Nation basically means that the council will lend all of its authority and resources to any nation fighting that rogue nation. So, using Callamandia as an example, if the king and his court were to violate the treaty in the way you suggest, then the Council of Wizards would go to Vrudena, Mirelia, and Gtharsis, and encourage them to go to war with us, lending all the Council's resources to the effort. Further, Mirelia, as the only human-based neighbor nation, would be required to accept Callamandian refugees as their own citizens. The Council doesn't want innocent civilians hurt because of the decision of the government, so they are encouraged to get out of the way. Rogue Nations are not permitted in Dugerra, and will be dealt with forcefully."

"So all nations have to abide by the Council's way of doing things?" someone asked. "That's kind of dictatorial, isn't it?"

"The Council of Wizards doesn't make rules concerning governing style. This conversation is almost moot, because there are only two or three things for which any national leader could conceivably be arrested. The likelihood of any sitting king doing any of them is pretty remote. However, violating treaties is one of the things for which they can be arrested. Since every nation has ratified the wizarding treaties, and the Rimohr Treaty, violating those would be an arrestable offense." Looking to David, he asked, "Does that satisfactorily answer your question?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now then, the exam will be at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, right here. Don't be late. Class is dismissed."

As the class filed out, Chloe stepped over to David. "You planning to arrest the king?" she asked with a chuckle.

David smiled. "No. It was just that you said that each national leader is required to ratify the treaty, and I got to asking myself, 'What if he didn't?' That led me to thinking about the possible consequences, and I ended up with my question."

Chloe nodded. "You want to study together? I don't want to sit through this class again."

"Sure. I'm kind of glad we ended up in this class together. At least I knew one person here."

"Yeah, same here. Though I'm sure I'll get to know all of them over time. You, on the other hand, are heading out as soon as this class is over, aren't you?"

"Assuming I pass the exam."

Chloe snorted. "I don't think that's going to be a problem. I wonder how we got lucky enough that our classes were together, though."

"I asked about that, actually. They scheduled this class now specifically because I needed it right away. Basically, they wait until they have enough students to form a class with. You'll note we had a pretty small group. They wouldn't normally have had this class, the guy told me, for another six months, unless someone needed it right away, like what happened."

"So the schedule is flexible," Chloe said.

"Yeah, because the whole system is a go-as-you-can process. Some people, like you, I imagine, will only take a few months. Others, like Agent Garibaldi, will take the full two years."

"I hope I can live up to that expectation," Chloe said.

David patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Just do your best. However long it takes you, we both know you'll come out a Rimohr on the other side. Anyway, let's get studying. Where do you want to go?"

"Let's go to the mess hall. That way we can get drinks and food without interrupting our study time."

"Works for me."

David stepped into the Bolmont Division Rimohr office with a slight bit of trepidation. While he'd been here before, he was now expected to work here. His first stop was to talk with Nancy, the newly promoted office director.

"Good morning, sir. Can I help you?"

"Sir? When did I become a sir?" David asked her with a grin. She knew him well enough by now to recognize him by sight.

"When you put that on," she said pointing to his badge with her InkyQuill.

"Hmph. Color me important," he said. "I need to speak with Agent Wilson. Is he available?"

"Yes, he's in his office. Could you sign in, please? All officers need to sign in and out."

"I'm not an officer yet. I'm just an intern."

"You look officer-y enough to me," she said with a smirk, and motioned to the sign in sheet.

David signed in, then walked back toward the squad room. He was lucky that Agent Garibaldi wasn't present; he wasn't yet ready to face him as a true subordinate. He knocked on Agent Wilson's door.

"Come in," Agent Wilson called out.

David went in, closing the door behind himself. He stood at attention before the agent's desk.

"David Stroud, reporting for duty, sir," he said formally.

Agent Wilson leaned back. "Well, Mr. Stroud. Figured that just tinkering with our investigations wasn't enough for you?"

David could hear the humor in the agent's voice. Still, he responded formally. "Figured I'd learn how to do it right, sir."

Agent Wilson snorted. "You got the bad guy arrested. That's doing it right. So. You're here as an intern, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Let's get you processed. You have about twenty forms to fill out. Some of which could be tricky for you."

"Sir?"

"Well, there are forms for things like emergency contacts, and next of kin. As you're a demighost, these could pose an issue."

David grinned. "Oh, I gotcha. Well, emergency contact is easy enough. Next of kin... does it have to be biological next of kin?"

"No."

"Then that's not really a problem, either."

"Fair enough. Let me grab the packet, and you can get started on it."

Agent Wilson had ushered David into a side room, where he spent the next four hours filling out paperwork. Wilson had then gone over some of the local procedures that were used in the Bolmont Division. Each division had its own unique way of handling the administrative side of things, and David needed to learn how he had to work here. By the end of Agent Wilson's crash course, it was nearing the end of the day.

"All right. That's about all I need to go over. I'm sure you'll have forgotten half of it already, so expect me to yell at you when you screw it up."

David grinned. "Yes, sir."

"So. Let's go out and meet the team."

Agent Wilson led him out of the side room into the squad room, which was central to the entire building.

"All right, listen up," Agent Wilson said, his voice ringing through the large space. The officers all turned to face him. David felt a bit like a science specimen all of a sudden. Wilson said, "This is David Stroud. He's our first intern. For those of you who haven't yet read the memo, an intern is not allowed to conduct investigations alone. Mr. Stroud here must always be accompanied by one of you while he is acting as a Rimohr. He is not allowed to arrest anyone. He is, however, allowed to detain someone for later arrest by a full officer. So long as he's being supervised by one of you, he has full Rimohr authority. Let him do the work, in other words."

There were chuckles throughout the office at that.

"I know some of you already know David. The rest of you will get to know him as time goes on. When you get a chance, introduce yourselves, so he can stop calling you, 'hey you.'"

Once again, the officers chuckled. David was surprised at this side of Agent Wilson. He'd not suspected the man had a sense of humor.

"Okay, that's all. Get back to work." To David, he said, "I assume you can find Garibaldi on your own?"

"Unfortunately," David said with a theatrical sigh.

Wilson laughed. "Welcome to the team, David. Good luck."

David nodded to his boss, and then walked over to Garibaldi's desk. He stood at attention while Joe filled out a form.

"Don't just stand there, you're in my light," Joe said. "Sit down."

David took the seat next to Joe's desk. Vivian was the first to come by.

"Welcome, Officer Stroud," she said with a warm smile.

"I'm not an officer yet," he objected.

Joe looked up at that point. "Okay, lesson number one: Don't ever utter those words again. Especially not in public. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, you are just another Rimohr. You need to act like it."

"Yes, sir," David said seriously.

"Lesson number two: Don't ever fucking call me 'sir' again, or I'll have Zyla revoke your visiting privileges with Grace."

"Ouch," David said.

Joe grinned at him. "Seriously, David. Except for the people who need to know, just act like you're just another one of us."

"But... won't the difference in my badge make it kind of obvious I'm not?" David's badge was of the same hawk design, but contained no gem in its tail.

"Probably not. If someone does ask, just tell them you're a rookie."

"Okay."

"Any questions?"

"Yeah. What's Zyla making us for dinner?"

"Us?" Joe asked in surprise.

"You're my training officer. Don't I spend 24/7 in your presence now?" David asked, feigning innocence.

Joe barked out a laugh. "Not if you want to remain my friend!"

David chuckled.

Joe said, "But she did tell me to invite you to dinner. She's making roast chicken."

Vivian said, "Wish someone was making me dinner..."

David smiled at her. Joe just raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I can't win..."

"And yet you keep trying," David said teasingly.

"Okay, so, your first job is about a hundred sheets of paperwork..." Joe told him in response.

David just laughed.

"Honeys, I'm home!" David cried out with amusement as he entered his house in Bolmont. Both Olissa and Flo were staying with him over the summer.

Jailla flew into the entranceway and landed on his shoulder.

"Welcome home," he said.

"Aw, man. Two pretty girls in the house, and I get greeted by the bird."

Jailla knew David was teasing him. He nipped him on the ear, anyway.

"Ouch! You bastard," David said with a chuckle. "Where are the others?"

"Olissa is preparing dinner. Flo is taking a bath." After a pause, Jailla said, "Or, I should say, she said she was going to take a bath. I have not verified this."

David laughed as he took his coat off and set it across a chair in the great room. "Still squeamish about naked people, eh?"

"I am not squeamish. I am nauseated."

"How rude," David said. As they wandered through the dining room, David picked up a berry and handed it to Jailla, who happily ate it.

As David entered the kitchen, he saw that Olissa was chopping up something to put into a pan on the stove. He made sure she knew he was there before he put his hands on her hips.

"Welcome home," she told him softly. Jailla flew off to get away from the heat of the stoves, and David leaned in to kiss Olissa on the neck.

"Whatcha makin'?" he asked.

"Roast dragon with sweet potatoes."

David was pretty sure she was kidding, but, looking around, he said, "Where's Bispy?"

Olissa turned and looked at him with a mischievous grin on her face, then arched her eyebrows a couple times. Finally, she broke down and laughed. "He's in the sun room. I'm actually making pot roast."

"Yum," David said. "Ready soon?"

"In about an hour," she replied.

"Okay. I'll let you keep at it, then. I'll be out back if you need me."

"'kay."

"So you catch any bad guys today?" Flo asked as she passed him the carrots.

David snorted. "I haven't even left the office yet. First I went over the long list of people the Rimohrs are still looking for - including my good buddy Wendell Kendall - and then he had me reading Earth newspapers."

"What the heck for?" Olissa asked.

"To find rogue wizards. Sometimes what they do makes it into the paper."

"That sounds like a complete waste of time," Flo said.

David shrugged. "Look at it this way: if they didn't do that, you and I would probably never have met. It was Garibaldi who found the newspaper articles about things I was doing that got me caught in the first place."

"What were you doing?" Flo asked.

David looked at Olissa, who already knew about his revenge. Flo didn't.

"Some things I probably shouldn't have been," David said. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

"Sure," Flo said. To change the subject, she said, "This is great roast, Olissa."

Olissa smiled at Flo, but when she looked at David, she frowned to see the look on his face.

"Since when do we handle noise disturbances?" David asked Garibaldi. They were in his glide car, heading to their case location. It was nearly eight o'clock at night, and David was glad he'd put the magic lanterns on the car.

"Because this is a recurring and predictable event. We're hoping to head off a real blowup in the future."

David nodded. He followed Garibaldi's directions to find the place. They were in a town called Agnidence. It wasn't a large town, and finding the right house wasn't difficult.

David settled the glide car on the street in front of the address Garibaldi had given him.

"It's all yours, ace," Garibaldi told him.

"Is this the address of the complainant, or the nuisance?"

"The complainant."

"Okay."

The two left the glide car, at which point David's question became unnecessary. The noise coming from across the street was almost overpowering. His glide car's windows had filtered most of the noise out. They walked up to the front door, with David in the lead. David knocked on the door.

"Yes? Oh, thank tivaru you're here. Come in, come in," the man said. David and Garibaldi entered the man's small home.

"What seems to be the trouble, Mister..."

"Walter Simms."

David nodded. "What seems to be the trouble, Mr. Simms?"

"It's that danged house across the street! They are blasting that music just like that. Every Thursday night, until all hours!"

The music, they noted, was rather loud even inside Mr. Simms' home.

"My wife and I can't get any sleep until they're finished, and sometimes they don't finish until two or three in the morning! I have to be to work at seven!"

"Where do you work?" David asked.

"At the printing house. I'm a copyspeller. My job requires concentration, and that means I need my sleep!"

David nodded. "What are your usual days off?"

"Monday and Tuesday. Why is this important?"

"Just trying to find a resolution to the problem, Mr. Simms."

"The resolution is simple. Go tell those maniacs to be quiet!"

David smiled. "I realize that is a simple solution for you, Mr. Simms, but your neighbor might not see it that way. We're going to go talk to them now, to see if we can't get them to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you." Mr. Simms let them out of the house, and they walked down to the car.

"What're you waiting for?" Garibaldi asked when David paused.

"I figured you were going to critique my performance in there."

Garibaldi just shook his head, and motioned David onward. They walked across the street to the nuisance house and knocked on the door. This got no result, so they then banged on the door. This, also, got no results.

"The party's out back," Garibaldi said. "There might not be anyone in the house to hear you."

David nodded, and then he led Garibaldi around the house. As loud as it was out front, the noise in the back was tremendous. The band was playing full tilt, and everyone was laughing, joking, and having a great time. Some saw the Rimohrs and looked at them curiously, but no one seemed troubled by their presence.

David reached out and gently took one lady by the arm, to get her attention. She whirled, about ready to slap him, until she saw his uniform.

"Oh! Officers. I'm sorry, I thought you were that Johnny Wilmuller again. How can I help you?"

"Where can we find the owner of the home?"

"That would be Johnny," she said with a frown. "Always getting fresh. He's... over there, near the refreshments," she said, pointing.

"Thank you," David said. He nodded to her politely and made his way through the crowd to the refreshment table.

"John Wilmuller?" David asked.

"Yeah? Oh, don't tell me that neighbor of mine called you guys..."

"Can we speak to you somewhere more private, please?" David asked calmly.

"Yeah, sure." He led them off to the side of the house. The noise was still fairly nasty, but there was no one there to interfere.

"It was that damned Mr. Simms, wasn't it?" Mr. Wilmuller groused.

"Yes, sir," David confirmed. "Your neighbor is rather irked by the noise. He says it's interfering with his sleep."

"Well, maybe he shouldn't be trying to sleep at eight o'clock at night, then!" Wilmuller snapped.

"He suggested that your parties often run much later than this. Sometimes as late as two or three in the morning," David said.

"Yeah, so?"

"Don't you think that's a tad late to be making this much noise?"

"Hey, we party until the guests go home," Wilmuller said. "Sometimes that takes a while."

"I see. Mr. Wilmuller, we're here because we're concerned that this problem will grow in the future. I'd like to find a way to nip this in the bud right now. Why do you hold your parties on Thursdays?"

"A lot of my guests have Friday off," he said.

"Could you conceivably hold your parties on either Sunday or Monday evenings?"

"I guess I could, but why should I?"

"Your neighbor's biggest problem is that you are interfering with his ability to perform his job by not allowing him to get enough sleep. As he doesn't work on Monday or Tuesday, if you held your parties the night before those days, he wouldn't have that complaint to make."

Wilmuller scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess not..." Then he said, "But why should I inconvenience all my guests for one old man?"

"The 'old man', as you put it, lives here. Your guests don't." David paused, then said, "There is, however, another option. Have you considered erecting a privacy field?"

"What's that?"

"A spell to contain the noise."

"Man, I was never much good with spells."

David sighed. "Yes, sir. I can teach you the spell, if you'd like."

"Don't bother, man. I'd never use it."

David nodded. "Very well, sir. Please be aware that a record of this visit will be made. If we have to continually come out here, it will be noted that you have been uncooperative with a Rimohr initiative."

"And what's that mean?"

"It means the government will not look favorably upon any requests you make for a period of ten years after such record is entered. In other words, sir, it is in your best interest not to make us come out here again."

"Great. Just great. You don't get what you want, so you threaten me?"

"I'm making no threat, sir. I'm merely informing you of the procedure we follow."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, go harass someone else. I've got a party to get back to."

The man walked off, and David had to restrain his urge to blast the man with an energy ball.

"Idiot," David muttered under his breath.

"He knows we can't do much to him directly," Garibaldi told him.

"Yeah."

David walked back over to Mr. Simms' house and knocked on the door again. Mr. Simms was there quickly, and ushered them back inside.

"Well? I still hear a racket," Mr. Simms complained.

"Yes, sir. Your neighbor appears to be a rather uncooperative individual."

"Don't I know it. This isn't the only problem I've had with the man, but I didn't call you fellows about the other things. This is going to get me fired if it keeps up!"

David nodded. "Mr. Simms, you said you're a copyspeller?"

"That's right. I make page-by-page copies of manuscripts for the printing house."

"So you're fairly good with charms?"

"They'd better hope so, sonny," the man said with a chuckle.

"Could we step outside for a moment? There's something I'd like to show you."

"Okay..." The man followed David outside, and David demonstrated the privacy field to him. The man practiced it a few times himself, until he was sure he had it down.

"Well, I'll be a drakee's uncle," the man said. "That's right useful, that is."

"Yes, sir. Since we can't seem to get much cooperation from Mr. Wilmuller, this will at least allow you and your wife to get some sleep."

"Well, thank you. I'm much obliged."

"No problem, sir. I hope you have a good evening." They shook the man's hand, and then headed back to the car.

Once they were on their way back to Bolmont, David asked, "Well?"

"Well what?" Garibaldi asked.

"How'd I do?"

"We'll go over it tomorrow, after you write up the report."

"Joy."

"Stroud, Garibaldi, in my office," Agent Wilson intoned neutrally.

"Oh, hell," David muttered. Garibaldi said nothing. David walked into the office and stood in front of the desk. Garibaldi leaned against a filing cabinet. Agent Wilson closed the door.

"So, your first field case," Wilson said. "Tell me about it."

"You've got the report, sir," David objected.

"Right. Tell me about it."

David shrugged. "Neighbor dispute. The guy, Wilmuller, has a party every Thursday night. It is apparently loud, raucous, and can go late into the night. When we tried to talk to Mr. Wilmuller, he was wholly uncooperative. Since, as far as I know, there was nothing we could arrest Wilmuller for, I showed Mr. Simms a spell, and we left. End of case."

"Why did you show Mr. Simms a spell? That's hardly an investigative technique..."

"Well, the incident didn't really call for investigation, sir. I mean, no one was disputing that Mr. Wilmuller was causing all sorts of noise. Agent Garibaldi said that our goal was to prevent the situation from becoming worse in the future. To that end, I figured if I could give Mr. Simms a way to not be bothered by the noise, then the issue wouldn't get worse, thus achieving the goal that Agent Garibaldi said we were trying to achieve."

Agent Wilson nodded, tapping the folder in front of him. "Anything to add, Garibaldi?"

"Nope."

"Okay, for the record, we generally don't go around dispensing spellcasting advice. On the other hand, doing so was an ingenious solution to the problem. Ingenious enough that Mr. Simms called in this morning to thank you both. You get a gold ring in your record for your very first case. Not bad, Stroud."

"A gold ring, sir?"

"When a case is handled with above-average ability, it's marked with a gold ring. If you do sub-standard work, you get a black X. These marks get evaluated during your promotional periods, or, in your case, when you apply to end your internship and become a full Rimohr."

"Oh, okay. I get it."

"Anyway, it was good work. Keep it up." Wilson waved them out of the room.

As they were walking back to their desks, David asked, "How would you have handled last night?"

"I'd probably have come down on Wilmuller a lot harder, ended up telling Simms to file a civil complaint, and that would have been it. I didn't even think of the whole spell thing until you mentioned it... nor did I know the spell to offer. How did you?"

"Ever tried having sex when there are children in the house?" David half-answered him. Garibaldi blushed.

David was looking through newspapers, not finding much of anything, when Nancy walked over and presented him with a case file.

"The OFA just dropped off this case," she told him. "You're the only one who's not already busy."

"Okay," David said. "What's the OFA, again?"

"The Office of Family Affairs. Among other things, they're the parent agency of the Child Safety Board."

"Hmph," David replied. His opinion of the CSB was not a positive one. "What's the problem?"

"I don't read the case file, Officer Stroud. I just deliver it," she said with a warm smile.

David grinned sheepishly. "Okay. Thanks."

Nancy walked away, back to her desk. David opened the file to look it over. It turned out that one John Rodgers had repeatedly failed to pay his child support, and his former wife, Cathy, had filed a complaint with the OFA. The OFA had then gotten a magistrate's order to arrest John Rodgers so he could be brought before the court.

The thing that would make this case somewhat tricky was that John Rodgers, a Mage by education, lived in Earth.

Garibaldi, who had been in a meeting with Agent Wilson, came out to see David reading the case file.

"What's that?" he asked.

"A case file," David said. "See? Manila folder, papers inside, little label thingy here on the edge?"

"All right, smart-ass," Garibaldi said, chuckling. "Where'd it come from?"

"The OFA dropped it off."

"What's it about?"

"Bench warrant for unpaid child support."

"Seems simple enough."

"The guy lives in Albany."

"Where?"

"Exactly. It's in Earth."

"Aw, hell, not that again..."

David chuckled.

"Well, at least you know about Earth."

"Intimately," David confirmed. "We'll need to go to Gorumshead first, though."

"Why?"

"So we can get my truck. It'd be nice to have something to drive to New York. It's kind of a long walk."

Garibaldi snorted. "How far are we going to have to go?"

"We might want to get Zyla to make us lunch..." David opined.

"Uh-huh."

"Do we need to do the whole checking in with the local precinct bit? We're only going to be there a few minutes, hopefully," David asked.

"We still have to check in. Just in case things go wrong, or someone wonders why we're detaining the man."

"Okay."

David entered the police department into his nav system, and it didn't take them long to find it.

"Which of us does the talking?" David asked.

"You do."

"But I'm not officially an officer. Isn't this one of those times when you should take over?"

"No. I'll let you know if any of those times occur. Remember that so long as I'm standing next to you, you are a fully authorized Rimohr officer. Now let's go."

"Okay."

The two entered the building and immediately garnered a few stares.

"Can I help you?" the officer at the desk asked.

"We need to see the officer in charge, please," David told him.

"Upstairs. Take a right as you leave the elevator, then a left at the end of the hall. His office will be on your right, about a third the way down."

"Thank you."

The two made their way to the appropriate office, and were then confronted with a secretary.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"We need to speak with Captain Weiss, if we could."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, ma'am," David said politely.

"Can I ask what this is regarding?"

David thought quickly about how to word his response. "We're enforcement officers from another jurisdiction. We're just checking in before we go to apprehend our suspect."

"Oh, I see. Just a moment, then."

As the secretary got on the intercom to talk to the captain, Garibaldi whispered to David, "Very nicely phrased."

David nodded with a grin.

"You can go right in," the secretary said, motioning to the door.

David and Garibaldi entered the captain's office.

"Gentlemen," the captain said.

"Capt. Weiss," David said, shaking the captain's hand.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize those uniforms, gentlemen. Which department are you with?"

"We're Rimohrs, sir," David said.

"Rimohrs? What the devil is... oh... Oh! I see, that explains your vagueness while talking with Colleen."

"Yes, sir."

"You look awful young to be in law enforcement," the captain objected.

"I'm older than I look, sir."

Capt. Weiss nodded. "So, why are you here?"

"A man named John Rodgers. His wife has accused him of neglecting to pay his child support."

"And they sent you all the way here for that?"

"The crime carries a little more weight where we come from," David said.

The captain nodded. "Well, do you need anything from us?"

"If you could verify the man's address, it would be appreciated."

"Sure." The captain called records and quickly got the address, which matched the one they had with them.

"Anything else?"

"No, sir. We'll hopefully be out of your hair very quickly. So long as we can find him."

"Could you do me a favor, then?"

"If we can."

"When you do take him into custody, could you drop back by here, and let us know you're leaving? That way we'll know we don't have to look out for you anymore."

"We can do that, sure."

"Thank you. Good luck with your hunting."

David grinned, and they left the office.

"Are they always that cooperative?" David asked Garibaldi.

"I don't know. I haven't done much Earth work."

"Oh. Well, okay. Let's go get this slug."

Thanks to the GPS in David's truck, finding the apartment building where John Rodgers lived was not difficult. Unfortunately, nobody answered the door.

"What now?" David asked. "We don't know if he's in there and not answering, or if he's just not home. It is, after all, the middle of the day. He might be at work."

"That's true. Maybe there's an apartment manager or something."

They went and knocked on the manager's door.

"Yeah?" the man said gruffly.

"Excuse me, sir. We're looking for John Rodgers. Would you happen to know where he works?"

"He in some kind of trouble?"

"Nothing you need to get worried about," David said, hoping he sounded comforting.

"Hmph. In this place, I worry about everything. Anyway, Rodgers lost his job last week. He's in his apartment, trust me."

"We knocked..." David objected.

The manager snorted. "Ain't nobody that John wants to talk to these days. That's why I figured he was in trouble."

David nodded. "Thank you for your time."

As the manager closed his door, David asked, "So... how do we proceed? The manager says he's in there, but he didn't answer the door. How do we make him answer the door?"

"We don't. We just go in after him."

"Okay."

The two went back to the apartment.

"What was that spell again?"

"Avata," Garibaldi reminded him.

David turned and used the charm on the door, which quickly unlocked. David turned the handle and entered the room. The living room was empty, as were all the other rooms, it turned out.

"Guess the manager was wrong," David said. Just then, they heard something outside. David went to the window, and saw a man running down the fire escape.

"Come on," David said.

"He's got too much of a head start on us," Garibaldi objected.

"Problem for him is, he's got to get around traffic."

David and Garibaldi ran down the street to the corner. They saw Rodgers running down the next block. The light was currently not in their favor.

"He's going to get away," Garibaldi said.

"From you, maybe," David replied. He faded to insubstantiality and ran across the street. Since he was still visible, people were panic-stopping to avoid hitting him. Two people would have hit him, if he'd been physically there to be hit. Once he got across the street, he faded back to solid form.

Garibaldi had to wait for the light to change, by which time the two men had rounded a corner. Once he had the chance, he took off after them.

David ran after his suspect, who was running all out, trying to get away. He crossed the street at a low point in the traffic, and David followed him. Slowly David gained on the man, until he was finally only twenty feet behind him. They were on a clear section of sidewalk, with no one in the way. David pulled his wand.

"BARA!" David shouted. Immediately, Rodgers went tumbling to the sidewalk. David slowed as he approached. Rodgers was struggling to get to his feet, but David grabbed the back of his collar.

"You aren't going anywhere, Rodgers."

"Who the fuck is Rodgers?" the guy tried to play off. He had a hunch they didn't have a picture of him.

David, being from Earth, merely reached into the guy's back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and looked at the man's license, then turned it to show him.

"That would be you, according to your driver's license," David said.

"Fucking Rimohrs," Rodgers spat.

David turned and walked Rodgers back up the street. They met up with Garibaldi after about a block.

"Hands out, Rodgers," Joe snapped.

"Fuck off," Rodgers replied.

David smacked Rodgers on the back of the head hard enough that Rodgers stumbled and fell to the ground.

"Oops," David said. "My hand slipped. It does that sometimes when people make me angry."

Joe chuckled as David hauled Rodgers back to his feet.

"Now hold out your hands, or we'll use the hex on your balls instead," David growled.

Rodgers held out his hands.

Joe applied the handcuff hex, and said, "John Rodgers, you're under arrest, by order of the magistrate, for failure to pay child support."

"I ain't gotta pay shit. I don't live in their jurisdiction, you asswipes."

"You always live in our jurisdiction," David told him darkly. "Even when you're dead."

The two turned and directed Rodgers to walk between them.

"How the hell did you run fast enough to catch this guy?" Garibaldi asked. He was still trying to catch his breath.

"I only look like I'm not in shape," David replied. "Two years of weapons training gives you pretty good stamina."

"Hmph," Joe said.

After stopping back by the police station, Joe and David started back toward the travel gate to Gorumshead. All the while, Rodgers was cursing and kicking the seats.

David, finally having enough of him, said, "Rodgers, you damage my truck, and I'll see to it that you fall out of it at eighty miles an hour."

"That wouldn't get the woman her child support," Joe objected lightly.

"I could settle up with her. Hell, paying what this worthless shit might have given her would be chump change. I could pay ten times that."

"Okay, that's true. So, you want me to open his door now?" Joe winked at David so that Rodgers couldn't see.

"Not just yet. Let's find a nice stretch of highway. Maybe we can do it right in front of a semi. He'll make a nice, satisfying splat that way."

Rodgers looked back and forth between them, not sure if they were kidding or not. After that, he grew much quieter.

After another ten minutes, Joe asked quietly, "What's a semi, anyway?"

David laughed.

"Your detainee says you threatened him," Agent Wilson said.

"I was kidding," David replied.

"Yeah, well, he didn't think it was funny."

"He wasn't supposed to," David said.

"You can't threaten people in your custody, David," Agent Wilson told him. "I know you might want to just twist their heads off, but that's not the way the system works."

"Yes, sir. Sorry sir."

"He has actually subpoenaed the two of you to appear as witnesses for the defense at his hearing."

"He's planning to make an issue of this in court?" Garibaldi asked.

"No. But since you both saw his apartment, he's planning to use the two of you to verify that he hasn't got the financial wherewithal to pay his child support."

"Oh, joy," Garibaldi said.

"And, Mr. Stroud, if you lie to the magistrate, you will be in deep shit," Agent Wilson warned.

"Yes, sir. I know that."

"Good. Keep it in mind. You'll have to be in court Monday morning at nine. That's it. You two get out of here and go do some real work."

"By which he means paperwork," Garibaldi said to David as they were leaving the office.

"I heard that, Garibaldi," Agent Wilson said.

"Er, sorry about that, sir," Garibaldi said as insincerely as possible.

"Uh-huh," Wilson replied.

"Officer Stroud, tell me, did you get a good look at my apartment?" John Rodgers asked.

"Yes, sir. I was in every room."

"So, you are aware of the condition of the building I was living in."

"Yes, sir."

"Could you describe the building's condition for the court?"

"Run down would be a compliment," David said. "The paint was peeling, the plaster on the walls was cracked, one of the windows didn't close fully, the screens on the windows were torn, and both of the sinks in the apartment dripped continuously."

"Would you expect such an apartment to be pricey?"

"No sir. In fact, the likelihood is that it was the cheapest place you could find to live."

"Objection," the prosecution intoned.

"Do you have anything to base that on, Mr. Stroud?" the magistrate asked.

"Just my opinion, sir, and my experience living in Earth. The apartment was what we would refer to as a slum. While there are almost certainly apartments in the same price range, they would be in similar conditions."

"I see. In that case, I'm going to overrule the objection. But please be careful with your characterizations, unless you have facts to back them up."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Now, Mr. Stroud," Rodgers asked, "the kind of person that lives in such a slum, as you call it... would they be able to afford to pay child support to someone else?"

"That would depend," David replied.

"On what?" Rodgers asked.

"Their priorities."

Rodgers wasn't sure he wanted to ask the next question, but knew if he didn't, then his ex-wife surely would. "Could you explain further?"

"Well, sir, while you were living in what appeared to be an extremely low-rent apartment, you had, in your living room, a huge flat-screen television, a high-end home theater system, three video game consoles, an iPhone, an iPad, a laptop computer, an expensive leather recliner, and a Blu-Ray disk player. This collection of items suggests that you cared more about what was in your apartment than what your apartment itself was like, and leads me to believe that the condition of your apartment building is no real indication of how much money you have."

"I... see," Rodgers said. "Um... no more questions, Your Honor."

"Mrs. Rodgers?" the magistrate asked.

"Just one question. Officer Stroud, could you give us a rough estimate of the value of the items you just listed?"

"Well, my prices will be a couple years out of date, but, give or take a couple hundred granas... About six thousand granas or so. That assumes they were all purchased new, which they looked like they were, and legally, about which I cannot guess."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

"Mr. Rodgers, redirect?"

"Officer Stroud, how can you judge that the items were new?"

"The recliner still had 'new leather smell'. The iPhone and iPad were the latest generation items. The flat-screen television contained the most recent display technology, according to the branding on its bezel. In short, the items in your living room have not been available for more than six months."

"Nothing further," Rodgers said, deciding he should get rid of this witness before he could do any more harm.

"You may step down, Officer."

"Thank you, Your Honor," David said, and went to join Joe in the back of the room.

"So. Your first official court case. How did you like it?" Zyla asked.

David shrugged. "I've been in court before. It's not really like it was any different from the other times."

"But you got that woman her money," Zyla said.

"No, I got the man put in jail. The woman still isn't getting her money. Not until they sell off all his crap, for which they will probably only get about three thousand granas."

"You said it was worth six," Joe objected.

"New, it was worth six. It's not new anymore."

"Still, you were the one who poked the big hole in his defense," Zyla persisted.

"Yeah, I guess. I like that he got nailed. It just doesn't feel satisfying, somehow. I'm not sure why."

"Chin up," Joe said. "Bigger cases will make you feel better."

"Yeah... when do we actually do the investigating part of our job? Because so far I've felt a bit more like a referee and a babysitter."

"Patience," Joe said.

"Uh-huh."