I waited on a the front row of benches, in front of the makeshift stage in the center of town. My seating was alongside Daava, Mystery, Faublien, and all others who would speak on behalf of the University and Other Place. We had discussed our plan; all that was left was to wait for the meeting to begin.

As we sat in anxious silence, I looked around at the movement around us. Judging by the lack of movement anywhere else in town, it seemed like literally every goblin was in attendance.

The only exception were those posted to guard a small ship, docked closer to the town than any others. A hole was cut into the side, almost like a makeshift storefront. And a familiar goblin was lowering a shade over it.

Wait ... was that Uncle Gree?

Sure enough, another goblin in a gray robe exited the ship. When I saw the sword sheathed in metal on his back, and its peering eye, I knew this figure was the Master. Using a wooden cane, he made his way toward us—eventually pulling back his hood to graciously greet people as he went.

Daava looked down at her feet, all she could not to stare at his approach.

Mr. Pepperweed took a seat with his own workers on the opposite side of the gathering. He wasn’t the only prominent figure, however.

In the center row of seats, there were five orcs in suits. Beside them, sat a dozen goblins in uniform vests and well-kept fishing pants. There was also a dwarven man, a few elves of various races, and a ceratopsian. It seemed that their row was reserved for the councils of the various towns.

Wait ... why was Caid sitting among them too? Looking stiffer than usual, even as he smiled and nodded greeting who everyone who peered over at the great hero of the continent.

I tapped on Mystery's shoulder and then gestured at their boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

Mystery sighed, "Caid volunteered to ... represent human interests in this matter. The council couldn't come, but he'll be calling them to relay all relevant information. And to communicate their decision."

Council?

No doubt seeing my confusion, Mystery gave a heavy sigh. "Lilly ... you've been away from humanity a long time."

I didn't understand what they meant. But the only thing I could afford to worry about right now was Daava. Who, instead of looking at all the commotion, seemed to just be thinking as she stared at the dirt in front of her.

It was about noon, with the sun directly overhead, when a member of the goblin council rose to step onto the wooden platform.

Everyone immediately went quiet.

The councilwoman nodded and said, “Thank you to the fine people of this city for preparing the arrangements for this important meeting. It is not often that we allow guests from our neighboring cities. But we, the council, have made today a particular exception. Particularly, given the gravity of the accusations against one of our own.”

There were some murmurs among the audience.

However, Mr. Pepperweed seemed absolutely calm in the face of it all. He sat hunched forward, resting the weight of his torso on his cane.

The councilwoman continued, “The University has asked that the first to speak on their behalf be two of their former university students—accompanied by the Twinn Cities' High Enchanter.” She beckoned them forward.

Mystery, Faublien, and Professor Ozgrub all stood and made their way to the stage.

Once standing in front of everyone, Professor Ozgrub cleared his throat and began. “I thank you, people and council of Crudehook for allowing me to speak today. We first became aware of the problem when an enchantment was brought to the University. We studied it, collected other samples to be certain, and then concluded both the cruel and hazardous nature of them.”

At this, many goblins folded their arms in clear signs of distrust.

Faublien spoke next, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone. “You all know about the ... side-effects. Some as benign as an unstoppable itch, others as potentially lethal as paralysis. Maybe it seems absurd that the lesser effects could cause much harm. But everything we’ve learned suggests that the enchantments have the ability to adapt what they do to defend themselves.”

“Kavtagro’s runny shits!” someone shouted angrily from the audience.

The goblin councilwoman turned scornfully at the person who had shouted; however, many goblins nodded their silent agreement.

“Please, listen!” Mystery said, bringing everyone’s attention to the stage again. “It's not just the danger to us. The longer we spent with the enchantments, the more we could detect life within them. These aren’t even true enchantments; they're homunculi."

"Right," heckled another goblin. "Sounds like Mr. Pepperweed makes better enchantments than a sorcerer can."

Mystery shook their head emphatically. "They are lives imbued into dead material, trying to protect themselves. And what’s worse is the reason they feel they need to protect themselves. These enchantments are created to be afraid, to feel pain!”

A mix of responses came from the crowd. Anger, confusion, distrust—many of the goblins even whispering arguments between one another.

"Order, please," the councilwoman said as she again stepped forward. “I would now ask that Mr. Pepperweed approach to respond to these accusations.”

The crowd grew quiet as Mr. Pepperweed laboriously stood and made his way to the stage. It took him a moment, and he waved off another goblin who tried to help him. Finally, he reached his destination. For a moment, he simply looked out at everyone in a quiet way.

Then, finally, Mr. Pepperweed said, “The accusations are true.”

If it were possible, I think all the oxygen would have been sucked away from the outdoor space we were in. As it were, however, everyone became dead quiet. There were not even whispered words between the goblins.

Mr. Pepperweed gave a significant nod and said, “Yes, I formed the enchantments by using the same spell our ancestors used to plant the fields."

Already, goblins were shaking their heads like they couldn't believe the words were real."

Mr. Pepperweed drew a heavy breath. "I did not know, when I sold them to you, that they would gain the ability to attack the beings who wielded their power. But paradoxically, it was through the efforts of those who would see me fail that I’ve learned how to fix the errors of my methods.”

Fix the enchantments ... that's why he had felt such gratitude toward Daava. Everything we'd done, it had taught him to fix the rest of the enchantments, just like Daava had fixed the sword. Not by taking away their pain, but by weaponizing it.

Mr. Pepperweed reached back and took the cursed sword. “I’ve learned how to make the enchantments more powerful and entirely obedient." Then he set it back gently. "But that does not change that I put your lives in danger, without knowing. As an apology for the errors in my previous construction, I will fix every enchantment in Crudehook, free of charge.”

To my surprise, there were no cheers at this; nobody said a word. I could sense the trepidation of the air. A few goblins were quick to even remove their enchantments and stuff them in their pockets.

Mr. Pepperweed seemed to sense it as well. “You are right to hesitate. But the truth is that we need magic. Our people were stamped into the dirt long ago. These enchantments are our chance. Not only to take a part in power that makes this world what it is, but for Crudehook and all goblins to make a cultural mark. For the world to finally see us."

At this, the Director cleared their throat.

Mr. Pepperweed gave a long sigh. "Yes, the University has offered to give us their enchantments. But it will take them decades. These can be produced in scale. To not only make us as powerful as the sorcerers, but also to make Crudehook and economic powerhouse."

The councilwoman nodded but then said, "But what of the cruelty?"

At this, nearly every goblin leaned in closer, waiting with baited breath on his answer.

"It is ... regrettable," replied Mr. Pepperweed, his words carrying their weight. "But the enchantments I make available to others only match the degrees of intelligence of animals. We are a fishing village. We understand that life goes on because we consume the baser forms of it.”

“We don't fry them alive!” Daava shouted, unable to hold her anger and frustration and grief in a moment longer. "Fish feel. We honor it. We do everything we can to make it painless. Because their lives and their deaths matter to us. They're part of what makes us who we are."

There were several scowls before I heard someone call out, “Traitor.”

Without warning, Mr. Pepperweed turned and let out a chilling hiss. His tone deep and foreboding, he then said, “How dare you.”

I nearly stood to punch him out, thinking he was addressing Daava. But no ... Mr. Pepperweed was looking out rebukingly at the audience. And as a result, several goblins lowered their heads in either fear or shame.

Mr. Pepperweed waited for a moment, letting the silence carry his anger. “Daava is one of our own and the only reason many of us are still here. Whose devotion inspired even her pet to abandon her education for our sake."

I blinked a few times, not understanding where Mr. Pepperweed's protective fury had come from. At first, I wanted to believe that it was all for show. And ... maybe some of it was. But ... the darkness inside of me whispered something else. Mr. Pepperweed was not defending an ally, nor the person who had saved him, nor someone he remembered as a little girl. No, he was defending the person who had made his life's mission possible.

Mr. Pepperweed continued. "That same tenacity and care is why Daava has warned all of you—accurately—about the dangers of the enchantments. You may judge that she is misguided in her concerns. But do not dare to call her disloyal for them.” He turned to her, tenderly. "She was the first of us to see the light of what we could become."

Daava turned her head away, lines of tension tightening in her expression

Mr. Pepperweed looked down at her and said, “Would you please join me on the stage to voice your concerns?”

Daava’s expression did not soften. Slowly, she went to the stage, showing a body still frail and dilapidated from the magic of the sword. “I endured what the enchantments have at the Master’s hand." Then she turned and raised the back of her shirt.

There were several gasps from the audience, and several parents immediately moved to shield their children's eyes from the horrific scars.

Then Daava turned around, her jaw set with all the determination she had left. "I was … so ashamed about what that enchantment did. To my body, to my mind. Until I couldn’t even tell the ones I love what was happening to me. All I could do was let myself be pulled into a secluded place, where it could hurt me again and again."

The goblin councilwoman nodded gravely. "Your experiences ... they were a horror. Nobody here will deny that. But what of Mr. Pepperweed's assertion? That he has fixed what was wrong with the enchantments to cause all that damage?"

Daava shook her head, eyes watering. "That's not the point!" She pointed at the sword. "All it means is that he has put every new enchantment through the same pain. Maybe we won't be the victims. Maybe we won't even see the scars. But this plan? To make the Master and goblin-kind finally be seen? I means making something else suffer as invisibly as I did."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

"It ... isn’t worth it," Daava said, looking one by one at every goblin who would meet her eyes. "We're better than that. We have to be.”

Finally, Mr. Pepperweed stepped forward. “Daava, I would have never asked you to endure all you did. It's unfair you went through. But I was around in the days before our village was respected as a sovereign place. So many of us were crushed into silence, just like you have described. Taking away our first chance at justice ... it wouldn't be fair to all those who never got it.”

Daava studied him for a moment. Then, to my surprise, she let out a smile. A genuine one. “Then ... I’m glad for unfairness. Maybe you're right. Maybe it would be fair for us to get our turn, and mistreat something smaller than us." Then, Daava's face softened into something like serenity. "But ... I can't imagine anything worse. Than choosing to remain a part of this fucked-up cycle at all. So I'm glad that things don't have to be fair."

For a moment, Mr. Pepperweed softened also. Almost like he was going to smile with her. But then something else, something ... sadder ... took its place. And he said, “But that will never make us real to the rest of the world.”

Those words, the same ones he'd used in the cave, hit with all the power of a freight train. Just looking back at the crowd, I could see lines of tension, clenched jaws, watery eyes.

Daava was quiet for a moment, but then her eyes narrowed in on me. Then she said, "This is the only world I need to be real for." Then she gestured at me. "Lilly, you had a plan that you wanted to share?"

I nearly jumped when she said my name.

But Daava simply nodded encouragingly and said, "Go ahead, sweety."

I stood shakily, feeling the stares all around me. I didn't have the presence of mind to think about moving to the stage. All my attention was just on trying to make my voice loud enough to hear. I swallowed and had to force myself to take a few breaths.

Finally, I said, “W-when we were traveling, I noticed that enchantments being scarce was because there aren’t many sorcerers in most towns.”

At this statement, everyone just seemed to look at me with confusion. Making me realize that I had ... simply stated the obvious.

I let out a nervous twitch.

Mr. Pepperweed sighed. “Maybe your pet is best in a supportive and ... silent ... role.”

However, Daava shot him a murderous glare. Then she returned her attention to me and smiled—clearly trying to encourage me to continue.

I nodded, even as I seethed at myself inwardly for stumbling over my words. “At first ... I thought maybe we should put more sorcerers in the cities. But then I realized that that wouldn’t work. You all can hire sorcerers if you like, you’ve all been doing it since the beginning. The problem isn’t that they’re not your own. That … it’s not your magic.”

At this, I saw a few pointed goblin ears finally perk up.

“Magic requires a sexual disposition most goblins don’t share,” Mr. Pepperweed said, like he was now having to try a little bit harder to remain patient.

“No … but … you do,” I replied. I didn't even realize how what I had said could be construed as an insult until I heard a couple chuckles from the audience.

“Sorry!" I said, quickly. "I just mean ... I used to think I had to hide those parts of me, because I didn't think anyone would understand. And I'm sure there are quieter goblins who feel the same. Orcs, and dwarves, and elves too. They just don’t want to go to the University or Other Place because they're afraid of what others might think.”

There were still some smiles from the crowd. And while some of it was at my bumbling, they genuinely seemed responsive to what I had said. There were also a few looking down, a little uncomfortably. Like they'd heard the words a little more personally than the rest.

“My idea,” I said, unsure of how it had taken so long to get to the point. “-is that every year the University and Other Place should send out a single team to all the surrounding cities—at our own expense. They’ll spend a week or so in each place to fix some problems for the town. But they won’t do it alone. Any adult citizen will be able to join them and learn freely about magic. Even try it out for themselves. It’ll create good will, maybe reduce some stigmas, and get more people to sign up to learn magic.”

Finally, I took a breath, relieved that my speech was over. I then felt a minor panic over the idea that I might have just invented college recruiters in this world.

But Mr. Pepperweed rolled his eyes and said, “So your grand solution is to take people from us?”

I shook my head, feeling my eyes widen. “No, no, no!" I paused, struggling to think on my feet. "If the magical schools can adapt a teaching and research curriculum, then most of those sorcerers would come back home! Then they could relearn the past magic of their own people. Start more schools, until everyone has one! With magic that represents their culture."

For a moment, the Master did not respond … and the crowd was in a dead silence. All of them seeming a little surprised that anything coherent had come out of that mess. But Daava ... Daava was beaming at me with a warmth I could feel throughout.

Enough that I was able to take a breath and reached down to my ankle. Where Bunny was resting warmly around my ankle. Like in the garden, its body began to shift and move at my touch. Until it finally dropped itself in my palm.

I lifted it up so that all could see as it twisted in a lively pattern. Then I softly said, “Daava was right. Magic … this world … it should be for all of us equally. No matter who we are, or how we got here. Nobody, not even enchantments, deserves to be used or forgotten.”

-O-

For the next half-hour, the audience erupted in a mass of private conversations. The councils had walked off in various directions to discuss matters amongst themselves. The goblins were a mix of heated arguments. The Director and Jagras were speaking with the rest of my professors and friends. Caid and Mystery had left to call the human council via magic.

Namali walked over from where she had been seated a few rows back just to be with us. And Aamalyn … well … she and Pasithea were nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me,” said someone tapping on my shoulder.

I turned and it took me a moment to recognize the kindly food vendor who had sent her child over with free fish on our first arrival in Crudehook. She extended her hand with rings and a pendant inside.

Enchantments.

Then the vendor said, “I overheard the High Enchanter talking about a way to help the artifacts at the University. After everything, I … I don’t think having them is right. Could you please get them to him?”

I nodded with a smile, taking the enchantments. “Thank you.”

Daava turned as well, her eyes welled with tears.

Then there was movement on the stage, and everyone went quiet. The councils of the dwarves, the goblins, the orcs, and the ceratopsians had moved to the stage. With the goblin councilwoman standing in front of them all.

"We, the councils have come to a decision," the councilwoman said, looking solemnly across the crowd. "Had this been a debate for public office, perhaps the decision would have been easier."

I drew in a sharp breath.

The councilwoman continued. "Mr. Pepperweed spoke with a conviction than none could ignore. But ... no matter how we feel ... no matter our disagreements ... torture is not who we want to be."

I exhaled so hard that I nearly felt lightheaded. And I wasn't alone. All around me, people were finally breathing a little easier. Even the people who had been jeering Daava seemed at least partially relieved.

The councilwoman even seemed to take a pause for herself. "So we will the University and Other Place up on their generous offer. To train our kind into rediscovering our own magic. And we hereby forbid the creation and sale of homunculi within the limits of our cities."

Mr. Pepperweed finally let his face twist into a low scowl. Stepping to the front of the stage, he said, "My boat ... it doesn't need to be anchored here."

Wait ... he could just ... do that? I wasn't alone in my confusion. As the goblin crowd bubbled with murmurs and whispers.

Mr. Pepperweed folded his arms calmly. "You may forbid my creations, but you cannot take what belongs to me or any other goblin! Just like you cannot stop me from doing what I know to be right for our people. I will set up outside your cities, and bring those who would follow me into a new age for our kind.”

At this, the crowd erupted into chaos, and several of the council-members began shouting incoherently over one another

"Excuse me!" boomed a voice, heavier and more impactful than the rest.

Everyone quieted down to see who had spoken.

It was Caid, who stepped up on the opposite side of the stage. For a moment, I felt relieved. The continents considered him and his merry crew to be leaders of the world. Fighters against all dark magic.

But then I saw the expression on his and on Mystery's faces. One that seemed ... almost ... haunted.

Caid finally spoke. "Mr. Pepperweed, that will not be necessary. Humanity ... offers partnership in your coming ventures. As well as protection for both you and your property."

The words felt like they had cut the breath from my lungs.

Mr. Pepperweed looked obstinate for a moment, like he was only a breath away from refusing. But he looked out at the crowd. The faces of his people, those who had rejected him. Then, at all of the councils of his and his neighboring cities.

Finally, Mr. Pepperweed said, "If my own people will not have me ... then I accept. On the condition that I am allowed to bring those loyal to me as workforce."

Caid nodded, making it clear that it had already been discussed.

No, why was humanity doing this? Had Caid not told them what all the Master had done to all of those enchantments? Caid hadn't seemed happy with the decision. That meant he had to disagree! Which meant that he must have told them!

Which meant humans ... my people ... had chosen this.

Before I could process it any more, someone in the audience let out a gasp. Everyone turned in the direction she was facing, myself included. The woman who had shouted was staring at the ship in the bay. Mr. Pepperweed’s ship. In front of it, a pile of tied up and unconscious goblins were sprawled on the ground.

Then a tall figure in a black hood and mask stood stepped out of the ship. A huge rucksack full of stolen goods over one shoulder, and something else in hand.

At first, nobody seemed to know what to make of what they were seeing. Then someone whispered, “The Non-sorcerer.” This whisper began to circulate and spread in fearful tones.

My eyes widened, as I realized that ... behind the mask ... there stood Aamalyn. Suddenly, I remembered when Daava had almost warned me not to worry Aamalyn. As well as all the secrecy since we'd returned.

Through the Non-sorcerer's mask, I could see her eyes burning. The same look as when she'd first seen us, collapsed and bleeding on the beach.

As the Non-sorcerer stood there, letting everyone see her, smoke began to billow from the ship. It wasn’t long before flames rose up from the wood. Only when the smoke had nearly swallowed their body, did the Non-sorcerer turn and begin running from the scene—their cape billowing with a trail of black behind them.

Several dozen goblins, including Mr. Pepperweed’s employees, immediately gave chase.

Without even thinking, I threw myself in their way. This time, I didn't need my darkness to protect her. Magic filled me, lifting dust and stones in a spiral around my body.

Mr. Pepperweed turned his glare onto the other councils, as if wordlessly demanding that they subdue me and give chase to the Non-sorcerer.

However, it was Jagras stood stoically and said, “As we cannot stop your magical practice, the Other Place does not govern the affairs of thieves ..." he looked at me. "...or pirates."

At this, something desperate glimmered in Mr. Pepperweed's eyes.

The Director stood as well. “Similarly, the University cannot meddle with your private dispute with the Non-sorcerer. Nor any others acting on their behalf.”

The councils, though perhaps split in their previous decision, looked no less soft. It took me a moment to understand that ... in their eyes ... Mr. Pepperweed had defied what limited authority they had. Now, the last thing on their mind was extending any sort of protection.

Mr. Pepperweed fell to his knees and whispered, "My work ..." He began to shake his head spiraling into a sort of state like I'd never seen him. "I'm nothing. Nobody will see what I've done. Nobody will see ... me." His voice cracked on the last word, as though he hadn’t meant anyone to hear it.

Almost like the words had been prophecy, the other goblins looked away from him, discomfort plain in their expressions.

I almost expected the matter to be finished. But, instead, Caid, Mystery, Boros, Faublien, Bubbles, Freja approached me. Standing in front of the Master's workers. Hands on their weapons.

Wait ... were they drawing their weapons ... again me?

Mystery stepped in front of the others, a pleading look in their expression. "Lilly ... I know you've worked with the Non-Sorcerer before. But this is bigger than just your friendship. You heard what Caid said. Mr. Pepperweed is under human protection."

I shook my head, none of this making sense to me. All I knew was that I wasn't going to just move and let them chase Aamalyn down.

Namali and Daava quickly moved to join me on either side.

"Back down, Mystery," Daava said, even though she looked like she was no condition to fight. "You heard the Director. Mr. Pepperweed has no protection here."

Caid shook his head. "Which is exactly what we don't want to happen to Lilly."

An hour ago, I didn't even know there had been a human council. And now ... were they threatening to ... take away a citizenship I didn't even know I had? Did that even make sense?

But the way Mystery was looking at me, that was the only thing that made any sense. Bringing a cutting feeling in the center of my chest. As well as a fear of doing something I could never take back.

But then Pasithea flew from some tree, landing on my shoulder. Her presence alone reminding me of something important.

So I flicked my tail, letting it rise to my side, and then I lowered my horns at them. Then, voice quivering, I said, "I serve ... only the goddess. Just as she serves the World."

Caid swallowed, not understanding for a moment. Until understanding slowly formed behind his eyes. His shoulders sagged and his face fell as he finally drew his sword.

But then a tiny, green figure stepped in front of me. It took me a moment to recognize little Day, their hands balled into little fists. And they weren't alone. The vendor and her daughter joined me next. Followed by more goblins, rushing in even if only to protect two children from armed humans. Until most of Crudehook had entirely surrounded Caid's crew, none of the welcoming.

“You see it, now,” Daava said to our friends, taking my hand firmly in hers. “Lilly does not need any human council to protect her. She has the whole world behind her."

For a moment, I thought that Mystery and their companions would be angry. But if anything, they seemed relieved ... if heartbroken. Placing a hand on Caid's shoulder, his crew finally turned away from me and helped Mr. Pepperweed to his feet.

When I turned around to look for the Non-sorcerer, they were nowhere in sight.