The distinctive warbling call of a phone rang amongst the bustle of the office clamor. A woman with dark brown hair picked it up. “Chester speaking, Fifth Division.” “Agent Chester, you have been requested to report to the EF-200 conference room, as soon as possible.” “The EF room? I’ve never heard of it, nor the 200 branch.” “It’s in the lower levels. Speak to Secretary Smith in the main lobby about it; he will fill you in.” The line went dead before she could put the phone down. Sighing, the woman put the phone back on the holder and stood up, stretching her arms. If she was going to go out, she might as well do so with vigor. Beside her, a coworker glanced up from his screen with a faint smile. “Whatcha get into trouble this time for, Mar?” “Nothing. They just want to see me. Fingers crossed it will be about a raise.” “Nah, I think it’s something else… you do too, I hope. Hear there’s rumors about, some folks are getting permanent assignment pairs with the beasts. Imagine that! Can’t even protect themselves, now they gotta lean up on us humans for support.” He flashed a grin and waved his hand. “Oh, right. You were leaving, don’t let me keep ya.” The woman rolled her eyes and left the desk, the man snickering in her wake. The bustle of the office faded away as the woman walked down the hall, towards the atrium of the main lobby. A distinctive blue hue enveloped the lobby, sunlight reflecting off the panels of the interior. Center to the room was a man typing in front of a computer screen, oblivious to the sounds around him. The woman tapped the bell at the front of the desk, the man responding with a side eye. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a drawled, low voice. “Are you Smith? Secretary Smith?” The man raised his eyebrows incredulously. “That would be me, the only secretary working here now. Do you need something?” The woman twisted the corners of her mouth slightly. “I was told to report to the EF-200 room, but I have no idea where that may be. I was directed to you for assistance.” The man sat up in his seat, the bored look on his face mostly gone. “What business do you have in the 200 branch, miss? That’s restricted to you and your level of clearance. Hold on, what’s your name?” “Chester. Mariana Chester. I work in the fifth division, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know what they want me for over there.” The secretary began typing on his keyboard, an unusually loud clacking noise for the model that he had in front of him. The woman began to lean over the desk to have a closer look before the man before her huffed. He handed her a lanyard with a keycard on the end and pointed to a darkened hall to his left. “Down there, until you get to the elevators, then go to the B3 level. Don’t give the pass to anyone who isn’t your superior.” He paused a moment before looking the woman in the eyes, showing his teeth in the very faintest of smiles. “And good luck. Go in with an open mind, that’s what they’re hoping for.” He turned away from her and began typing on the computer once more. The woman slowly turned her head to the pointed hall and began walking. Initially, getting the call on her line wasn’t too concerning for her, as she had gotten many similar calls before and they generally pertained to mundane assignments of cases that she was overqualified for. And she wouldn’t have paid the word of her colleague much mind, if the secretary didn’t act the same way. Somehow, the rumors of working with the very thing she’s been hired to protect, involves her now. She mentally crossed her fingers as she pushed the button for the elevator, counting the floors on the display as it rose up to her level. “I didn’t even know there were six floors below me,” the woman said to herself quietly. “Believe me, most don’t,” a man replied, stepping beside her. “Going to the third level below?” The woman looked at the newcomer warily before slowly nodding. “Guess you got the call too, huh? Have any idea what it’s about?” The woman was not one for small talk, only glancing away. “I guess not,” the man replied. The ding of the elevator rang, signifying the vessel had arrived. The man raised an arm and gestured to the open doorway. The woman shrunk slightly before entering the elevator. The man stepped in behind her, making space as much as he could in the cramped box. The ride down was silent. The call of the elevator pinged out again, signaling their floor had been reached. The man, sensing the woman’s hesitation, left the elevator and went to the right, following the halls down. Something was off about him, the woman sensed. After waiting a brief period longer, the woman stepped out and looked at the signs in front of her. Branch 100-300, pointing to the left. Branches 400-600 and 700-900, to the right. It seemed as though the man had other business to attend to, but not in the same breath as hers. That was fine, she told herself and shrugged. She started down the left-most halls, trailing her hand on the wall as she walked. The interior design of the third floor under was far more different compared to the designs of the base floor she was used to. There, it was white walls with accents of blue. Metallic sheets here and there, filled with electronic components that were years away from being in the public markets. But down here? It was warm, with walls that were painted a muted amber, appearing almost faded. The bottom of the walls, from about waist high, were covered with wood panels. And the wood itself, it was a deep brown color that teased a red hue. The lights were also warm, though a dull yellow, much to the contrast of the stark white of the above floors’ LEDs. In short, it was a whole different world. Perhaps it was built before the upper floors, or perhaps it never got renovated. But as she looked around, the woman could see no water damage, no blistering corners of mold; nothing to indicate disrepair. It was as if the halls she trailed down had been maintained without fault for a long time, perhaps decades. The woman had no sense of interior design, not in the sense of knowing when certain styles were popular. But from her knowledge of her family’s old pictures, yellowed polaroids themselves, she could estimate the floor she was on to have been built in the 70s, or earlier. It had a distinct style that she herself just couldn’t pin down. But even then, the pictures could have been older, her math of ages done incorrectly. Door upon door, all wooden, all the same variety. The only difference between them being the knots and whirls of the grain. The woman came upon a split in the hall, her singular hall continuing to the left and right. She looked at the signs in front of her. Branch 100-150, to the left. Branch 160-300, to the right. She continued on the right. The monotony of the sun-hued halls with their wooden doors soon came to an end, as the hallway stretched out into an atrium of sorts, doors lining the edges, spaced evenly between each other. Far up on the ceiling, it seemed as though there were windows leaking gentle sunbeams into the grand interior. The woman knew, it should be impossible, the third floor below is just too far underground. She shook her head; it wasn’t something to be concerned with right now. She had read files containing subjects much weirder. Upon each door in the room was a symbol, alongside some scratchy writing that she couldn’t decipher. Beside the door was a sign, supposedly translating what each door said. Juniper Wilderness - 160. Patched Sunbeams - 170. Evergreen Ponds - 180. The names didn’t make much sense to her, but seeing as they were nature-themed, it gave her hope that she may be in the right area. She wasn’t sure what EF stood for, but she figured it would be among the doors present. And no sooner did she think that line did she find what she could only believe was what she was looking for. Emerald Forest – 200. She turned the knob and stepped into the room. To say that the room she stepped into was bizarre would be an incorrect assessment of the woman’s thoughts. It was straight up impossible. It was a conference room, sure, complete with a very long table in the middle, surrounded by leagues of chairs. That’s to be expected. What wasn’t was the wall across the doorway she had just entered from. It was a multi-paneled window, with a beautiful view into a viridian forest ahead of it. Sunlight, here too, came from the windows, leaning into the room, but not fully covering it due to the angle of the sun. The woman walked to the glass, and though knowing she shouldn’t, placed a hand upon it. Warm, as though the daylight truly was shining through. From behind her, a greyed man saw the look on her face and chuckled. “Agent Chester, I assume?” Snapping out of her awe, the woman turned and hesitantly nodded towards the man, shutting her ajar mouth. “Yes sir. I came as soon as I got the call. What… what is this all about?” The man gently smiled and approached her, putting a hand to her shoulder and hanging his head. “Oh, to have the awe and eyes to see upon the beauty of the world again as you have here,” he softly chuckled. “You’re here because you are being reassigned to a new division. Some of the folks up at the board, for this little project, they like your work. They like you. So, they’re putting you on some new assignments under them. A bit experimental, but preliminary results have already proven it is a worthwhile endeavor, for us anyway.” “But… what did I do that was so special?” The woman furrowed her brow. “John Malkik, a few desks over from me, performs much better than I do. I’d hate to be in a position that I’m not quite suited for.” The man glanced away, a thoughtful glint in his eye. “John Malkik was considered, yes, but he lacked some very defining traits that this board is looking for. Openness to some more… strange ideas and ways of life. He’s a very… how do I put it, man stubborn in his ways? Despite what he works for, what everyone here works for might I add, there are many who believe in human supremacy. Our records and observations indicate you don’t carry that particular way of thinking.” “But sir, I haven’t had any interaction with any of the subjects of my work. For all you know, I could be some raging psycho,” she waved a hand around, “that’s out to gather information and ‘eliminate these beasts once and for all’. How do you know I’m not?” The man took a hand and slicked back his hair, not that he had very much to slick back. “First, I wouldn’t call them beasts even in conversation, and I most certainly wouldn’t say that to their faces. Second, yes it was a possibility that you could be, as you say, ‘some raging psycho’. But the truth is, the board doesn’t feel that way. And they are very good at knowing these things. Almost… supernaturally. Rest assured, if this trial period doesn’t work out, you can go back to working your old position or even a different one, if you feel so inclined.” The woman hummed in a defeated tone, stretching her lips into a forced smile, bar teeth. “Don’t you worry about it. You’ll be monitored and we’ll fill you in. We’re just waiting on a few more people to come in. Agents, like you. Here, take a seat. Refreshments are over there.” Almost an hour passed before everyone expected had arrived. Once the last person sat down, the windows were shuttered with curtains and a projector displayed the start of a digital slideshow. The grey-haired man stood up, walking to the displayed image. He whispered something to a woman at the head of the table before starting his speech. “I would like to thank you all for coming, of course knowing that this is a matter of your position. You all have been gathered here today because you have been selected for an experimental trial, one to further the work and goals of the Affairs Bureau in ways that haven’t been done before. You all have been selected for your desirable traits and work during your time here. Some of you have been here decades, others, only a few years. But the Grand DA Council has decided you are worthy of this special task they are about to give you-- “ A hand rose from one of the men seated. “Yes?” “Who is the Grand DA Council and why have I never heard of them?” “Please hold onto your questions until the end.” The man coughed into his hand. “However, for your sake, I will answer that. The Grand DA Council, with DA standing for Draconic Affairs, are the highest ranking council of the Bureau of Draconic Affairs. They are who everyone answers to. It would be wise to show them respect and know your place, even now. You never knew of them before because you had no need to. Now then,” the man clicked something in his hand and the slide behind him changed. Now, the projector displayed an image of a dragon silhouette. It appeared scruffy and had what looked like triangle-tipped limbs sprouting from the back, though from the silhouette one couldn’t tell if they were wings or gangly arms. “Now, I hope you all can tell what this is at a glance. But can anyone identify the species shown here?” No hands were raised. Except for the woman with the dark brown hair. “Agent Chester?” “I believe it is the silhouette of a Plumaealis peratus, the species of dragon most common in North America.” “What separates it from its close relative, the artisolum species?” “Peratus has a distinctive wolf- or cat-like body shape rather than the bear-like shape of artisolum. Peratus also has much larger wings capable of flight, compared to the small wings of the artisolum species.” “Very good Agent Chester. Are you familiar with all of the dragon species?” “No sir, just with what is in our area. Apologies.” “No, no. That’s alright. As for the rest of you,” the man spread his arms, “Learn from Agent Chester here; you must do well to know your species and variations. Dragons do not think, believe, or act the same. Assuming such could lead to a fatal encounter. Treat your dragonkind neighbors as you would your fellow man, perhaps better.” The slide moved forward, now showing an ink drawn image of a group of men with what could only be assumed to be several dragonkind. “I believe it most important to educate you folks here on the history of our organization, because you will be put in the position of your forebears before you. The Bureau of Draconic Affairs began as a small coalition of dragonkind, aiming to catalogue and record all things draconic before they as a species went extinct. Our records indicate that the organization started no later than the mid 1400s, though it is unclear when exactly it started. Then, it was mostly dragons running operations with few trusted human individuals. Relations were at an all time low between the two.” The slide progressed forward, now showing what seemed to be an image of an old piece of paper, torn on the edges and yellowed with age. Any writing that was on the paper before was illegible. “The records that were kept at the time are, for lack of better words, primitive. They were, however, ahead of their time even then. Data was collected where it could be, and it gave us the first census on the dragon population, starting with the turn of the century around 1500. Now, of course the dragons of the time, despite the ability to mostly fly free, could not collect all of the data that we could today. Logistically, it was near impossible for such a small group of individuals to do on foot. But the research they did then is commendable. According to their calculations, the population of all dragonkind sat anywhere between 500,000-1,500,000 individuals. During the first of the catalogues however, many specific data points were not recorded. That would be the identifying details of each and every dragon, as we collect today. No, the only thing they recorded then were the species, age, and number of dragons in an area.” The slide flipped to the next screen, showing what could be a page of the census survey. A crude drawing of a dragon was in the upper right corner. “This is one of the original pages from the booklet. Remember, at this time, books were an incredibly rare thing, and it’s lucky we even have these at all.” He coughed, returning to the slide. “Anyway, as you can see, here are the numbers for the ‘Farthrusar’ region, known to man as southern Italy. There were three documented species living in the area at that time, being the calora, cosus, and draco species. Only 40 years later, and the number of species dropped to two. Does anybody know why that was, and which species met its end?” A couple more people raised their hands this time. “You, Agent Yinfeng?” “The only name I don’t have any familiarity with is the draco species, so I’m gonna put my guess on that?” “You are correct.” The slide moved to an image of a dragon, scaled and breathing fire. “Coriumalis draco is an extinct species of dragon that once resided in the highlands and mountains of Europe. There was a period of great unrest and fear between dragonkind and humans, starting in the 1100s, which led to the hunting down and eventual extinction of this species. To date, they are the only dragon species that has ever displayed the ability to breathe fire. Rest assured, no dragon nowadays has that ability. Now, some dragons even to this day hold a grudge for the extinction of one of their kind, even if none from that time are alive today. Much like how there are many today who still hold some ethnic groups accountable for actions committed by their ancestors long ago. Regardless, you should treat the subject with respect and care, especially when around dragons who aren’t as closely aligned with modern humans.” The slideshow continued, now displaying another image in sepia tone, but this one is much sharper and clearer than the last. A group of humans with horns and tails all stand in a large group. “As technology progressed, so did the methods of cataloguing and storing information within the Bureau. The image you see before you are of the self-proclaimed ‘November Club’. Named so for both forming in the month of November and for the name of their leader, also November. They travelled the world in the 1860s to take pictures of and thoroughly catalogue dragonkind as they saw fit. Such an endeavor had not been attempted ever since the beginning centuries of the Bureau. From their work and then onward, we now know the status of the dragon population and of their cultures. At this time, many dragons had still kept their distance from humanity, slowly moving further and further into the untouched wilderness. Traditions and rituals, along with belief systems, all documented before their eventual disappearance at the hands of man,” the greyed man took a deep breath. “Don’t feel bad, it wasn’t the fault of you directly.” The man cleared his throat. “As the November Club finished their work in the early 1870s, the information was then documented and stored within the vast halls of the Bureau’s library, which still stands today.” A new picture appeared on the board, now of an identity file. A headshot of a dragon is displayed in the corner of the paper. “This was the first ID file. The dragon in the corner you see there? That’s November. With his insistence, the larger organization of the Bureau began extensively documenting each and every dragon they could, down to the details of color and species. Family trees were written down, rare patterns and colorations noted. For the first time ever then, the Bureau took on some of the forms and shapes that it still carries to this day. Now, compare this file to our modern way of organization.” The slideshow now displayed a side-by-side comparison of the old and new file types. They’re nearly identical. “Any information we give you will be in the most updated version we have on hand. Some cases may be in the legacy format, yet to be updated and uploaded digitally into the system. If you are handed a file of these types in one of your cases, you are expected to update it to the best of your ability and upload it to the system.” The slideshow landed on the last slide, an image of an anthro dragon and man standing alongside each other. The light from the windows soon returned, enveloping the room in a soft bath of sunlight once more. “Now then, I hope you all understand the history of this organization better as you work with dragonkind directly. I will take questions, if anyone has them.” Several hands shot up. The grey-haired man pointed to a young-looking agent with light brown hair. “Can you explain why we are here, again? I would like to get started on my assignment as soon as possible.” The older man groaned. “Are there any more questions that do not pertain to that?” No hands were raised this time. “Alright then. To say it bluntly, all of you in this room will be assigned a draconic partner to complete assignments in the field with. You were chosen for this role based on your perceived non-hatred for dragonkind and your willingness to work outside the norm. The next two months will be your trial period; if your partnership is deemed ineffective or hazardous to either party before or by then, you will be disbanded without reprimand, pending your separation was amicable. You are expected to behave without xenophobia and to continue your work to the best of your ability.” The man narrowed his eyes slightly. “It is the hope of the Council that your work and experience in working alongside dragonkind will yield positive outcomes for man and dragon. Who knows, maybe you will just be the first in a long line of human-draconic mutual aid.” A hand rose, this time from an older woman further down the table. “Excuse me sir, but what exactly will we be doing in the field with our partners? A dragon in quadruped form is not something we can walk freely with.” “Yes yes, that is true. You all are familiar with the ability of Shifting, correct?” Most of the heads at the table nodded. “The dragons chosen for this experimental partnership are all expert-level Shifters in human forms. Walking with them will appear no different than walking with any other human. Has anyone here ever interacted with a dragon in Shifted form?” All heads shook in a synchronized no. “You’d be surprised. Iiro, could you come here for a moment?” A well-dressed man with dark hair stepped forward. He had a peculiar nose, one with a distinctive upper bridge. His eyes trailed to the woman with dark hair, smiling. It was the man from the elevator. “Iiro here is a fine agent of the Bureau. Though hailing from our European division, he has done years of work both in and out of the United States. He is also a dragon, of twin descent. A hybrid of two species, which in this day and age, is nothing new. Iiro, if you don’t mind, could you Shift into your anthro dragon form?” He smiled, showing obvious canine teeth. “Certainly,” he answered, his voice deep and almost gravelly. In a moment, the features of his face began to, quite literally, shift apart. Looking at his face during the sequence was like looking at a mirage on the road, liquid-like and moving. Despite the fact that the dragon in front of them was changing his very facial features, something that shouldn’t be nearly as possible as it is, not at one moment did his face look unnatural or uncanny. Each stage of the shifting process only made the face look different, never frightening. It wasn’t until the Shifting had completed, did he look completely different. It took a few blinks for one to clear the residue of the mirage away, almost as if it affected the viewer and not the user. In front of them stood someone much larger. Someone with the body of a man and the head of a beast. Now, the dragon had taken on a completely different shape, but still somewhat similar to the human face he took before. He was a brown color, covered in small scales. On the edges of his jaw, neck, and the top of his head there was luscious dark brown hair (or fur?), appearing irresistibly soft. “Iiro, with all of his experience, is best suited for a partner who can keep up with his strong knowledge of dragonkind. Well, now I suppose I sound like the host to a dating show, hah! Iiro’s partner will be filled into the details of their arrangement after this meeting.” The room went silent. “Agent Chester, please stand up.” The woman was startled, but stood up, nonetheless. “Chester, you will be paired with Iiro during the course of the trial period. Please wait until all pairs have been called to leave, thank you.” The woman slumped into her chair I really wish that call was for a raise.