The Justice Hall was quite appropriately named. Inside it consisted mainly of empty space, floored with some kind of black stone and walled with bright white marble. White, doric columns supported a barren white ceiling two dozen feet overhead. It was like someone took the antechamber from the headquarters, tripled it in size, scrubbed off the murals, ripped down the tapestries and sterilized everything with bleach. In its center was a granite altar large enough to hold a man with his limbs splayed apart. What they used it for when the doors were sealed was a poorly kept secret. Open torture, by the judges.
Lucas felt decidedly more at ease once he'd stepped beyond the threshold of the Justice Hall. He had lifted the accused assassin from the horse and carried him the rest of the way inside, setting him down on the cool black tile floor inside. Everything seemed as it should be until the blasted porter made an appearance.
Pleasant, perky, smiling as always. The porter approached them as it had before. Lucas fixed it with a flat expression. He hated the thing, whatever it was, and yet he had to work with it.
"Excellent work Battlemage Hild." The Porter chimed in his thoughts. Lucas knew the thing liked to speak in his head, almost out of spite as if to say "Nyah I can talk in your head and there's nothing NOTHING you can do about it."
"Greetings again Captain Camulous." The Porter addressed the captain. "A healer has been sent for. Don't worry about the trail of blood you've left on the floor, someone will be in to clean it shortly."
Lucas winced at the Porter's remarks. It wasn't as if you could even see blood on the black floor, but beyond that he had not realized that the captain was so badly injured. Was he?
"Enough of that." Lucas snapped at the porter, his previously benign attitude disintegrating in the mere presence of the hateful construct. "Where is the judge?" In fact he sounded almost impatient now.
The Porter looked at him with his vacuous eyes. He looked reasonably real to most people who came into the Justice Hall, but Lucas knew better and it was so very apparent in his shallow gaze. "Battlemage Hild, have patience. These things can take time you know. I believe you have some forms to fill out."
Lucas scowled. Anyone else, anyone human would have earned pain or death for such a remark. But this was the Porter. He began to wonder now if any of the other Battlemages ever had forms to fill out or if the Porter was just screwing with him. Sometimes it felt that way.
