Chapter 13: The Shadowlands Shuffle

The first dimension on Corvus's list was the Shadowlands, home to the Interdimensional Consortium of Dark Arts. Rivet, after several near-fatal encounters with sentient firewalls and a particularly aggressive code monkey named "Nibbles," had managed to cobble together a rickety interdimensional travel device that looked suspiciously like a repurposed grumbleberry juicer. Lyra had cast a subtle "Legal Ease" spell, designed to make legal jargon slightly less incomprehensible (results may vary). And Umbral had practiced his "judge-intimidating stare" in the mirror until he'd accidentally shattered it.

Stepping through the shimmering portal, Corvus, Lyra, Rivet, and Umbral found themselves in a world shrouded in perpetual twilight. Twisted trees clawed at the sky, casting long, eerie shadows across the landscape. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur, decay, and the faint, lingering aroma of… burnt toast?

"Charming," Corvus muttered, adjusting his tie. "Reminds me of the office breakroom after Mr. Abernathy tries to make popcorn."

"This place gives me the creeps," Rivet said, his goggles dimming with unease. "I'm picking up some seriously negative energy readings."

"Maintain your composure," Umbral rumbled. "We do not want to attract attention."

They cautiously made their way through the Shadowlands, following a winding path that led towards a towering fortress made of obsidian. The fortress was the headquarters of the Interdimensional Consortium of Dark Arts, a shadowy organization that specialized in providing magical services to nefarious clients throughout the extradimensional universe.

"This is it," Corvus said, stopping in front of the fortress. "The heart of darkness. The epicenter of evil. The… place where we need to file a subpoena request."

He took a deep breath and approached the fortress gates, which were guarded by two hulking demons with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp claws.

"State your business," one of the demons growled, its voice like grinding gravel.

"We're here to file a subpoena request," Corvus said, his voice calm and professional. "We're seeking information about a contract signed by the Voidbringer."

The demons stared at Corvus, their eyes widening slightly. "The Voidbringer?" one of them said. "You're seeking information about the Voidbringer?"

"That's correct," Corvus said. "We have a court order from the Aethelian legal system, and we're here to request your cooperation."

The demons exchanged a look, then one of them chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down Corvus's spine.

"You're going to need more than a court order to get past us," the demon said. "You're going to need… a sacrifice."

"A sacrifice?" Lyra exclaimed, her voice trembling. "What kind of sacrifice?"

"A sacrifice of… paperwork," the demon said, its eyes gleaming with amusement. "We require a properly formatted complaint, filed in triplicate, with all the necessary signatures and seals. And it must be written in the ancient language of the Shadowlands, which is notoriously difficult to decipher."

Corvus stared at the demon, his jaw dropping. "You're telling me that we need to file a complaint to get past you?" he said. "That's ridiculous."

"It's the law," the demon said, shrugging. "We can't let anyone into the fortress without a properly formatted complaint. It's a matter of bureaucratic procedure."

Corvus sighed, shaking his head. "Alright," he said. "I guess we have no choice. Lyra, do you know the ancient language of the Shadowlands?"

"I know a little," Lyra said. "But I'm not fluent. It's a very difficult language to master."

"Then we'll have to improvise," Corvus said. "I have some experience in writing complaints. I'm sure I can come up with something that will satisfy these demons."

He pulled out a stack of parchment and a quill, and began to write. He wrote about the Voidbringer's impending arrival, the threat to Aethel, and the need for the Consortium to cooperate with their investigation. He wrote in the ancient language of the Shadowlands, using a combination of guesswork, intuition, and a handy phrasebook he'd found in the IBC's archives.

As he was writing, he noticed something. The ancient language of the Shadowlands was remarkably similar to the bureaucratic jargon used by the Department of Revenue. It was filled with complicated clauses, convoluted sentences, and endless footnotes.

Corvus smiled. He had found his advantage.

He continued to write, using his knowledge of bureaucratic procedures to craft a complaint that was both persuasive and technically sound. He cited relevant laws, referenced obscure precedents, and included a detailed list of supporting documents.

By the time he was finished, he had created a complaint that was a masterpiece of bureaucratic artistry. It was a work of such complexity, such precision, and such utter mind-numbing tedium that it was almost guaranteed to impress even the most jaded demon.

He handed the complaint to the demons, who examined it carefully, their eyes scanning the endless pages of legal jargon.

The Complaint Compendium

(The following is the full text of the complaint filed with the gatekeepers of the Interdimensional Consortium of Dark Arts, written in the Ancient Tongue of the Shadowlands, and translated for your convenience. Please note that certain nuances may be lost in translation, and the original document is best appreciated with a healthy dose of existential dread and a faint scent of sulfur.)

COMPLAINT FOR INTERDIMENSIONAL ACCESS: SUBPOENA ENFORCEMENT REGARDING VOIDBRINGER CONTRACT(S)

To the Esteemed Gatekeepers of the Obsidian Fortress, Guardians of Bureaucratic Integrity, and Arbiters of Demonic Due Process:

Greetings and salutations (of a legally binding nature),

This complaint is submitted with the utmost urgency, gravity, and a sincere hope that it will not be immediately incinerated due to a technicality. We, the undersigned representatives of the Aethelian Department of Extradimensional Affairs (hereinafter referred to as "the Complainants"), hereby lodge a formal grievance against the Interdimensional Consortium of Dark Arts (hereinafter referred to as "the Respondent") for obstruction of justice, impedance of lawful inquiry, and general disregard for the principles of interdimensional cooperation (as outlined in Annex 37-B, subsection 4, paragraph 12 of the Interdimensional Accords of 1742, revised edition).

I. JURISDICTIONAL PREREQUISITES:

It is established, without a shadow of a doubt (or at least, with a shadow of a legally doubtable nature), that this complaint falls within the jurisdiction of the Obsidian Fortress gatekeepers for the following reasons:

A. Location of Respondent: The Respondent's primary place of business (i.e., the Obsidian Fortress) is located within the Shadowlands, thereby subjecting it to the laws, regulations, and bureaucratic whims of said realm.

B. Nature of Business: The Respondent engages in the provision of magical services, a practice that inherently involves interdimensional transactions and therefore necessitates adherence to interdimensional legal frameworks.

C. Contractual Obligations: The Respondent is a signatory to various contracts, agreements, and pacts (both written and unwritten) that bind it to uphold the principles of fair dealing, transparency, and the timely provision of information to authorized investigators.

II. STATEMENT OF FACTS:

The Complainants are currently engaged in a lawful investigation into the activities of a certain entity known as the Voidbringer (hereinafter referred to as "the Subject"). The Subject is suspected of plotting the imminent destruction of Aethel, a crime that carries severe penalties under Aethelian law (and, we suspect, under the laws of most dimensions that value continued existence).

The Complainants have reason to believe that the Respondent is a party to one or more contracts with the Subject. These contracts may contain vital information regarding the Subject's plans, motives, and weaknesses (if any – though we remain skeptical, given the Subject's reputation for invincibility).

The Complainants have obtained a valid subpoena from the Aethelian legal system, compelling the Respondent to produce all documents, records, and grumbleberry smoothie receipts related to its dealings with the Subject. A copy of said subpoena is attached hereto as Exhibit A, notarized by a goblin accountant and stamped with the official seal of the Department of Extradimensional Affairs (which, we assure you, is a real seal, and not just a rubber stamp we found in Mr. Abernathy's desk).

III. GROUNDS FOR COMPLAINT:

Despite the Complainants' best efforts to engage in a civil and cooperative dialogue with the Respondent, the Respondent has consistently refused to comply with the subpoena. This refusal constitutes a clear violation of interdimensional law, a blatant disregard for the principles of justice, and a personal affront to the Complainants' dedication to bureaucratic excellence.

Specifically, the Respondent has:

A. Obstructed Justice: By withholding information relevant to a criminal investigation, the Respondent has actively hindered the Complainants' efforts to prevent the destruction of Aethel.

B. Impeded Lawful Inquiry: The Respondent's refusal to comply with the subpoena has made it impossible for the Complainants to gather the necessary evidence to prosecute the Subject and prevent the impending catastrophe.

C. Disregarded Interdimensional Cooperation: The Respondent's actions undermine the spirit of interdimensional cooperation and threaten to destabilize the delicate balance of power between dimensions.

IV. RELIEF REQUESTED:

In light of the foregoing, the Complainants respectfully request the following relief:

A. Immediate Access: The Complainants demand immediate and unrestricted access to the Respondent's records, documents, and grumbleberry smoothie receipts related to its dealings with the Subject.

B. Full Cooperation: The Complainants demand the Respondent's full and unqualified cooperation in the investigation, including the provision of testimony, the translation of ancient Shadowlands texts, and the loan of any magical artifacts that may be relevant to the case.

C. Bureaucratic Sanctions: The Complainants request that the Obsidian Fortress gatekeepers impose appropriate bureaucratic sanctions on the Respondent for its egregious violations of interdimensional law. These sanctions may include, but are not limited to:

Mandatory attendance at a seminar on "The Importance of Filing in Triplicate." A temporary suspension of the Respondent's right to engage in interdimensional commerce. The forced donation of all grumbleberry smoothie profits to a charity of the Complainants' choosing (preferably one that supports the Department of Extradimensional Affairs). The filing of a complaint, by the demons themselves, to the Department of Extra-Dimensional Affairs, in triplicate, written in Aethellian legal code, and signed in blood.

V. CONCLUSION:

The Complainants believe that the relief requested herein is just, equitable, and necessary to prevent the destruction of Aethel and uphold the principles of interdimensional justice. We urge the Obsidian Fortress gatekeepers to act swiftly and decisively to ensure that the Respondent complies with the subpoena and provides the Complainants with the information they need to save the world (or at least, to prevent a major bureaucratic headache).

Respectfully submitted,

Corvus Quill, Director, Aethelian Department of Extradimensional Affairs

Lyra (Last Name Redacted), Guardian-in-Training

Rivet Geargrind, Chief Gadgeteer

Umbral (Title Unknown), Intimidation Specialist

After a few minutes, one of the demons looked up, its eyes widening with surprise.

"This is… remarkable," the demon said. "I have never seen a complaint so well-formatted, so thoroughly documented, so… utterly boring."

"Does that mean you'll let us in?" Corvus asked, his voice filled with hope.

The demon hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes," it said. "You may enter the fortress. But be warned, the Consortium is not known for its cooperation. You may find that obtaining the information you seek is more difficult than you anticipate."

Corvus smiled. He had overcome the first obstacle. Now, he just needed to convince the Consortium to give him the information he needed.

Inside the fortress, Corvus, Lyra, Rivet, and Umbral found themselves in a vast, cavernous hall filled with shadowy figures, bubbling cauldrons, and the faint, lingering aroma of… burnt offerings?

The hall was the headquarters of the Interdimensional Consortium of Dark Arts, a shadowy organization that specialized in providing magical services to nefarious clients throughout the extradimensional universe.

"This place is even creepier than I thought," Rivet said, his goggles dimming with unease. "I'm picking up some seriously dark magic readings."

"Maintain your composure," Umbral rumbled. "We do not want to attract attention."

They cautiously made their way through the hall, searching for the leader of the Consortium, a mysterious figure known only as the Shadow Master.

As they were walking, they were approached by a small, goblin-like creature with glowing green eyes and a sinister grin.

"Welcome to the Consortium," the goblin said, its voice high-pitched and squeaky. "I am Grimsqueak, the Consortium's chief legal counsel. How may I assist you?"

"We're here to request information about a contract signed by the Voidbringer," Corvus said, his voice calm and professional. "We have a court order from the Aethelian legal system, and we're here to request your cooperation."

Grimsqueak stared at Corvus, its eyes widening slightly. "The Voidbringer?" it said. "You're seeking information about the Voidbringer?"

"That's correct," Corvus said. "We believe that the contract is the key to stopping the Voidbringer, and we need your help to find it."

Grimsqueak chuckled, a high-pitched, squeaky sound that sent shivers down Corvus's spine.

"I'm afraid that I cannot assist you," Grimsqueak said. "The Consortium is a private organization. We are not required to disclose information about our clients' contracts."

"But this is a matter of life and death!" Lyra exclaimed. "The Voidbringer is about to destroy Aethel! We need your help to stop it!"

"I understand your concern," Grimsqueak said. "But I cannot violate the terms of my office. I am bound by the laws of the Consortium, and those laws prohibit me from releasing confidential information."

"There has to be a way," Corvus said. "There has to be some loophole, some technicality, some bureaucratic procedure that we can exploit."

He paused, thinking. "What about a formal complaint?" he asked. "Could we file a formal complaint against the Consortium for obstructing justice?"

Grimsqueak stared at Corvus, its eyes widening slightly. "A formal complaint?" it said. "That is… an interesting suggestion."

It paused, then added with a sigh, "I am afraid that filing a formal complaint against the Consortium is… incredibly complicated. It requires a lot of paperwork, a lot of signatures, and a lot of… patience."

"I'm willing to be patient," Corvus said. "I'm willing to file all the necessary paperwork. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get the information I need."

Grimsqueak's beady green eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and thinly veiled annoyance. Corvus suspected that the goblin considered him a particularly persistent, if somewhat pathetic, pest. The kind you'd find buzzing around a particularly ripe pile of grumbleberry compost. Still, he had a sliver of leverage, a bureaucratic toehold in the fortress of darkness.

"Very well, Mr. Quill," Grimsqueak squeaked, his voice laced with a hint of resignation. "If you insist on filing a formal complaint, I will provide you with the necessary forms. However, I must warn you that the process is… arduous. It requires navigating a labyrinth of regulations, submitting to multiple interviews, and enduring a series of… unpleasant magical examinations."

"I'm prepared for anything," Corvus said, his voice filled with determination. "Just give me the forms."

Grimsqueak sighed dramatically and snapped his fingers. A stack of parchment materialized on a nearby table, bound together with iron chains and sealed with a sigil that looked suspiciously like a frowning grumbleweed.

"These are the forms you will need to complete," Grimsqueak said, gesturing towards the stack. "They include the Complaint Form, the Affidavit of Grievance, the Declaration of Intent to Sue, the Waiver of Liability, the Release of Claims, the Indemnification Agreement, the Non-Disclosure Agreement, the Arbitration Clause, the Choice of Law Provision, the Forum Selection Clause, the Severability Clause, the Integration Clause, the Force Majeure Clause, and the… Grumbleberry Smoothie Preference Survey."

Corvus stared at the stack of forms, his jaw dropping. "That's… a lot of paperwork," he said. "Are you sure I need to fill out all of these?"

"Absolutely," Grimsqueak said, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "The Consortium is a stickler for procedure. We cannot process your complaint unless all the forms are completed accurately and submitted in triplicate. And don't even think about making a mistake. Any errors will result in immediate rejection of your application."

Corvus sighed, shaking his head. "Alright," he said. "I guess I have no choice. Lyra, Rivet, Umbral, I'm going to need your help with this. We have a lot of paperwork to do."

He gathered the team around the table and began to examine the forms. They were written in a dense, convoluted language that was a mixture of legal jargon, bureaucratic boilerplate, and ancient Shadowlands dialect. The instructions were vague, the questions were ambiguous, and the penalties for making a mistake were severe.

"This is worse than Mr. Abernathy's performance reviews," Corvus muttered, rubbing his temples. "I think I'm starting to understand why the Consortium is so successful. They're experts at bureaucratic warfare."

"There has to be a way to simplify this," Lyra said, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Maybe I can use my magic to translate the forms into a more understandable language."

She closed her eyes and began to chant, her hands moving gracefully over the forms. A faint glow emanated from her fingertips, illuminating the parchment with a soft, ethereal light.

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, her face flushed with exertion. "I've done what I can," she said. "I've translated the forms into a more accessible language, but they're still incredibly complicated. The Consortium has built in so many layers of bureaucratic obfuscation that it's almost impossible to understand what they're asking for."

"Then we'll have to rely on our wits," Corvus said. "We need to analyze these forms, decipher their hidden meanings, and find a way to answer the questions accurately and efficiently."

He spent the next few hours poring over the forms, his eyes scanning the endless pages of legal jargon, bureaucratic boilerplate, and ancient Shadowlands dialect. He consulted with Lyra, Rivet, and Umbral, seeking their advice and insights. He used his knowledge of bureaucratic procedures to identify loopholes, exploit technicalities, and navigate the labyrinth of regulations.

As he was working, he noticed something. The forms contained a series of questions about the Consortium's performance. They asked about the quality of their services, the efficiency of their operations, and the overall satisfaction of their clients.

Corvus smiled. He had found his opportunity.

He realized that he could use the complaint process to conduct a performance review of the Consortium. He could ask them questions about their business practices, their ethical standards, and their compliance with interdimensional law. He could use their answers to gather information about their activities, their clients, and their connection to the Voidbringer.

He began to craft his responses carefully, using his knowledge of bureaucratic procedures to ask pointed questions, challenge their assumptions, and expose their inconsistencies. He cited relevant laws, referenced obscure precedents, and included a detailed list of supporting documents.

As he was writing, Grimsqueak approached him, his eyes gleaming with suspicion.

"What are you doing, Mr. Quill?" Grimsqueak asked, his voice high-pitched and squeaky. "Are you filling out the forms correctly? Are you answering all the questions honestly?"

"I'm doing my best," Corvus said, his voice calm and professional. "I'm simply providing the Consortium with my honest feedback about their services."

Grimsqueak stared at Corvus, his eyes narrowing. "I don't trust you, Mr. Quill," he said. "I think you're up to something. I think you're trying to sabotage the Consortium."

"I assure you, Grimsqueak, that I have no intention of sabotaging the Consortium," Corvus said, smiling. "I'm simply exercising my right to file a formal complaint. It's a matter of bureaucratic procedure."

Grimsqueak hesitated, then sighed. "Very well, Mr. Quill," he said. "But be warned, if I find any evidence that you're trying to harm the Consortium, I will not hesitate to take action."

He turned and walked away, leaving Corvus to continue his work.

Corvus smiled. He had gotten under Grimsqueak's skin. He was making progress.

He continued to fill out the forms, asking pointed questions, challenging assumptions, and exposing inconsistencies. He gathered information about the Consortium's activities, their clients, and their connection to the Voidbringer.

As he was working, he discovered something. The Consortium had a contract with a mysterious organization known as the "Order of the Shifting Sands." The Order was based in a dimension known as "the Desert of Despair."

Corvus smiled. He had found his third dimension.

He continued to work, gathering more and more information, uncovering more and more secrets. By the time he was finished, he had created a complaint that was not only a masterpiece of bureaucratic artistry, but also a treasure trove of valuable intelligence.

He handed the completed forms to Grimsqueak, who examined them carefully, his eyes scanning the endless pages of legal jargon.

After a few minutes, Grimsqueak looked up, his eyes widening with surprise.

"This is… extraordinary," Grimsqueak said. "I have never seen a complaint so thoroughly researched, so meticulously documented, so… utterly devastating."

"Does that mean you'll give us the information we need?" Corvus asked, his voice filled with hope.

Grimsqueak hesitated, then sighed. "I am afraid that I cannot simply give you the information you need," he said. "The Consortium is not in the habit of releasing confidential information to unauthorized parties."

"But you have to!" Lyra exclaimed. "The Voidbringer is about to destroy Aethel! We need your help to stop it!"

"I understand your concern," Grimsqueak said. "But I cannot violate the terms of my office. I am bound by the laws of the Consortium, and those laws prohibit me from releasing confidential information."

"There has to be a way," Corvus said. "There has to be some loophole, some technicality, some bureaucratic procedure that we can exploit."

He paused, thinking. "What about a performance review?" he asked. "Could we conduct a formal performance review of the Consortium, using the information we've gathered in our complaint?"

Grimsqueak stared at Corvus, his eyes widening slightly. "A performance review?" he said. "That is… an unprecedented request."

It paused, then added with a sigh, "I am afraid that conducting a formal performance review of the Consortium is… incredibly complicated. It requires a lot of paperwork, a lot of signatures, and a lot of… magical intervention."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," Corvus said. "I'm willing to file all the necessary paperwork. I'm willing to undergo all the magical examinations. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get the information I need."

Grimsqueak hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Very well, Mr. Quill," he said. "If you insist on conducting a formal performance review of the Consortium, I will provide you with the necessary resources. However, I must warn you that the process is… dangerous. You may find that the Consortium is not as receptive to criticism as you might hope."