Clustered near the reception desk were several incongruously plain chairs around a small table. The only other person here was a small, fussy looking man with a small, fussy looking beard. His tiny eyes were hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses. He wore a gray suit with a narrow blue tie. His posture, even seated, looked as though he were trying to collapse inward on himself and vanish into some other dimension.
Ignoring the man, Martia limped over to the reception desk, her footsteps echoing loudly through the large room. The blonde woman watched her come, a look of bland politeness etched on her face.
“Good morning,” Martia said. “I need to see the legate, please.”
The receptionist frowned. “I’m sorry. Nobody can see the legate.”
After her previous experience here, Martia was determined
