One of those stories where everything is connected. I've be working on this on and off.
Really, the only interesting thing about the plaque beside the door was the resemblance it held to its owner. It was an ordinary-looking thing, with upraised bronze letters set in a rather dull plate of tarnished brass. The letters were cold and slightly worn down from age, sitting beside the doorframe with the severity of a much-valued artifact, but overall, Lem decided, there was nothing extremely spectacular or impressive about it.
He let himself run a long finger across the metalic surface, bringing to mind the familiar image of his father. Lemonte Marveldof Reardan, Senior, was as dull and tarnished as his nameplate, but no one, Lem least of all, had ever questioned his cold authority. With Justice Reardan, open confrontations meant nothing. The only real escape was simply to walk away.