Those who go to enquire about the Dispute Resolution job:You head to the local headquarters of House Chan, one of the handful of stone buildings in Hope. It is appropriately impressive; the grey stone of the walls has been painted red with yellow highlights, the roofs are of almost certainly imported slate and arranged in a distinctive
tiered Occidental style, reminiscent of Golden pagodas. Surrounding the central square of the compound are multiple buildings built into the walls and often rising up several storeys. You can see why the administrator referred to them as towers.
The centre of the headquarters is devoted to a wide garden space, surrounded by the compound walls and several smaller buildings. The garden itself is a strange blend of Golden aesthetics and the necessity of the arctic region; a tiered, sculpted garden with a small fountain trickling water down through an artificial stepped waterfall, but surrounded by ornamental rocks and hardy bushes, complete with what appear to be dwarf conifers that some gardener must lovingly tend. Judging from the fountain, they must have built the gardens (and the whole complex) atop a natural spring for the area. Chunks of ice float in the ornamental pond.
You only glance this, of course, as you are escorted past it by a yellow-skinned Golden guard in thick furs. He carries an unusually well-constructed firearm on his shoulder, similar in design to a musket. For those of you who have visited the Reaches, you have only seen these before on imperial soldiers - a rifle. He also has a smaller pistol and a short sword at his belt. He escorts you to a small antechamber of dark wood where he knocks at the door to the office beyond. After a few terse words he opens the door and allows you in.
The office is laid out in polished red wood with a wide glass window covered by a painted paper blind. Cold light filters through the spaces in between slats onto a floor of scrupulously polished white wood and an ornate desk before a similarly ornate cushioned seat. Very notably, there are no other seats in the room, forcing you to stand. A fire roars on the far side of the chamber, heating the room. Sat upon the chair is a man with long black hair beneath a squat black cap, extravagant (and well padded) blue robes, slippers and
literally golden skin. If it weren't for the smoothness of it, it would look as if someone had liberally painted gold dust all over him.
Chan Tan-Chieng does not look up from his work. He has several books in front of them and spends a full minute writing in them and stamping them with a small brass stamp several times before he puts down his pen, blots the pages and deigns to look up at you.
"Freelancers?" he asks, as if to ascertain your identity. His accent is thick, and rather nasal. He carries on without waiting for confirmation. "Good. A riot has taken place at Teping Mine, three days from here. End it and put the miners back to work by the end of the week and you will be paid. If the mine administrator is still alive, you have the authority to demand a bonus for saving him. Questions?"