True to her word, Henna outdid herself for dinner that night. The table groaned underneath a humongous pot of rich lamb stew full of carrots, potatoes, and bulb onions, and garnished parsley and bay leaves slipped up and down its bubbly surface. Smaller plates of pickled cabbage stalks sprinkled with red spice shavings sat beside a platter of blackberry turnovers drizzled with honey. Pitchers of rosewater and chamomile tea stood ready to be poured into enameled mugs ranging the colors of the rainbow.

The meat was thick and filling, yet tender enough to be cut with a spoon, and the juices mingled with the broth to create a heavenly creamy texture that hugged the inside of the mouth like a warm embrace. Even the vegetables exploded with flavor, and the acidity of some unknown extract in the sauce left a pleasant tingling sensation on the tongue.

A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, giving the room a warm and cozy feel. Soon, the cottage was filled with the sound of talk and laughter.

“This is delicious, Grandma!” exclaimed Gabriela. “How do you do it?”

“Oh, a dash of red wine does the trick,” replied Henna, lacing her fingers under her chin as she watched them eat. “And a great deal of practice. Never did it much once I became queen. But now that I’ve moved out here, I have plenty of time to practice. Don’t mind the turnovers, though — I bought those at the marketplace.”

“Forget the turnovers, the meat you put in this stew is just incredible.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m so glad you’re enjoying how Clovis tastes.”

Gabriela choked on a mouthful of stew. “Sorry, who?”

“The meat, dear. Like you said.”

Gabriela blanched. “Clovis as in Clovis the cute sheep I was petting today? The one that fell asleep in my lap?”

“That’s the one. I’ve been using a new kind of grain feed, so all of them have been gaining quite a bit of weight. But Clovis especially was getting awfully plump.”

Gabriela’s face was turning green. “Grandma!”

“Where do you think I got the meat from, dear? Why act so surprised?”

“What’s more surprising is how you managed to slaughter and prepare the beast without any of us noticing,” remarked Connor.

By now, he had largely abandoned his highbrowed speech in favor of plain English, though he occasionally slipped a flowery phrase or two. Against his will, Tryle was a little impressed he’d kept it up this long. There were only so many times one could say “Avail me of the basket of golden roots, if you will” before finally resorting to “Pass the potatoes.”

Gabriela pushed her plate away with a queasy expression.

“Don’t waste food,” said Connor, lifting the plate up and placing it near Reya’s bowl. “If you’re not going to eat it, then give it to somebody else who appreciates every morsel of sustenance.”

“I’m…I’m fine, my lord.”

“It’s all right if you want it, dear,” said Henna kindly. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Reya accepted the plate with a slightly wounded look on her face, which confused Tryle. Wasn’t it good for a knight-guard to keep up her strength?

Overall, the meal was weirder than he was used to. Goblin feasts usually featured passionate eating contests, if not the occasional fistfight, and when he wasn’t working on his experiments, Tryle could count on a reasonable amount of chaotic entertainment. Here, the novelty of seeing this eclectic gathering of humans interact with one another was interesting enough.

Up close, Tryle was struck by the diversity in the physical appearances of the humans before him. The most common sighting of humans brought back to Lundy village were of soil-smeared, heavy-jawed merchants sporting combinations of brown hair with double-lidded green eyes, or blonde hair with double-lidded blue eyes, the inner corners of which revealed a slight opening of the eye. But except for the golden-haired Cadoc, everyone’s eyes were dark brown and featured monolids curving in to cover the inner eye — the epicanthic fold, as Tryle recalled from an old anatomy textbook.

Even then, he could pick out slight variations between Henna’s family and the female knight-guard. While Henna’s and her grandkids were raven-haired and had brown eyes so dark they were nearly black, Reya’s pinecone-brown, shoulder-length hair had a wavier texture, and her eyes were a light shade of hazel.

Tryle shouldn’t have been surprised. Every species of animal showed slight differences in phenotype, whether they be genius goblin or knuckle-dragging human.

As they ate, Gabriela and Connor regaled Henna about their lives since they’d last seen each other: updates on their academics and hobbies (Connor had recently taken up falconing with a golden-eyed bird unironically named Death From Above); tales of their social escapades and misadventures, including Gabriela’s ill-fated attendance at the knighting ceremony of the kingdom’s newest class of cadets, in which she tripped down the stairs from the throne and knocked over an entire row of kneeling knights, comically stiff as flipped turtles in their ceremonial armor; and recaps of their journey outside the crowded city of Medeira (Connor complained about the lack of proper bathing stations in a particularly seedy inn they stayed at).

Cadoc occasionally broke in with his own commentary, offering an objective view to the loud and frequently conflicting accounts of the two children. Reya said nothing, silently and methodically eating bowl after bowl of stew.

Then the conversation shifted to the goings-on of the palace, appointments and palace renovations and such, as well as the panic caused by Henna’s impromptu absence. Apparently, her departure to what she described as “a long-overdue vacation” was kept hidden from the king and queen.

“…just wish you wouldn’t disappear into the Woodlands without a word,” Gabriela was saying. “Mother and Father didn’t eat for almost a day, they were so sick with worry.”

“I’m ninety-two years old, dear,” said Henna, sounding annoyed. “I think I have enough experience to know where to live my life.”

“That’s not how getting older works, Grandma. Especially not at your age.”

“How is your preparation for the Archmage Testing going?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Grandma, don’t change the subject.”

“Is that why you were reading the enchantments textbooks today? To get in some extra studying?”

Gabriela rolled her eyes. “I’m the youngest mage to ever qualify for the Stellar-Class Exam. Passing will be a cinch. The book’s just an object of intellectual curiosity to help refine my understanding of shielding spells.”

“Those spells you were showing me yesterday…” said Tryle. “Could anyone learn them?”

Connor scoffed. “Listen to him. ‘Can anyone learn them?’ As if!”

“Only those born with an innate spark can learn how to wield the power,” explained Gabriela gently. “And even fewer can perform spells from the multiple branches of magic I told you about. I happen to be one of those few.”

“Hm.” Sir Cadoc took a long drink of rosewater.

“Did you say something, Sir Cadoc?” asked Gabriela.

Cadoc put his glass down. “More than a hundred years ago, the very sight of a goblin would drive anyone to call for its head. Now a member of the royal family is debating the intricacies of magic with one. I just find it…odd.”

“What’s so strange about that?” said Tryle.

Now everyone around the table was looking at him.

“Don’t you know about the Shadowlands War?” said Gabriela, astonished.

“I know we aren’t too friendly with your kind because we fought with them in the past,” said Tryle defensively. “And the village elders tell the younglings to stay away from any humans they see.” Tryle decided against mentioning that the policy for older goblins dictated a slightly more forceful response.

“I can see why they did that,” said Connor with a chuckle.

“Do we really need to discuss this history now?” said Henna. “We were having such a nice dinner.”

Connor shrugged. “The goblin asked.”

“His name is Tryle Bodkin,” said Henna in a steely voice. “Address him properly, Connor, or leave the table.”

Connor avoided her gaze and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “My apologies, Grandma.”

“You humans drove some of us into the Woodlands over some territorial dispute, right?” said Tryle.

“If you could call such a thing a ‘dispute’,” said Gabriela.

“Things were more…tumultuous back then, Bodkin,” said Henna. “This was all during the Big War.”

“Your Majesty, if I may,” interjected Cadoc. He turned to Tryle. “Are you aware of the history surrounding goblins that formed the United Triad during the Shadowlands War?”

Tryle fidgeted. “A bit.”

“The largest goblin fighting force ever organized, sworn to follow the raider ethos of your race. They served as minions under Beast Farragan, a prominent monster warlord of the Shadowlands, but he merely used them as disposable pawns. Battle after battle, he threw dozens — sometimes hundreds — of your kinsmen at the knights of the Xiang army. Eventually, your war chiefs decided to separate from the Shadowlands invaders and forge their own alliance —”

“I know about the Triad,” said Tryle impatiently. “You don’t have to explain it all to me. Elder Paz was an undersecretary to one of the generals. What does that have to do with the conflict between humans and goblins?”

“Your isolation in the Woodlands has laundered your perception into bleached falsehoods,” said Connor. “One could argue this enmity arose in major part from the rapacious appetite of your kinsmen.”

“I know stealing isn’t ideal, but humans do the same, don’t they?”

“It’s unwise to speak based on conjecture.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Connor,” said Gabriela testily. “The goblins were just as much threatened by the Shadowlands armies as we were. In hindsight, could they have behaved better towards the provincial settlements in the countryside? Sure. But their intentions weren’t an existential threat to the kingdom at the time.”

“And while Beast Farragan was laying waste to the Jade City and the Outer Woodlands, the United Triad attacked Reya’s village and burned it to the ground. What does that say about their true intentions?” Connor turned to Tryle. “What say you, Tryle Bodkin? With all your passion in magical science. In the physical world, there is always a cause before an effect. Actions have consequences.”

Tryle looked over at Reya. The slender knight-guard was chewing quietly, her eyes hidden behind a curtain of hair.

“What are you talking about?” said Tryle. “Goblins battled you humans before retreating into the Woodlands, right?”

“Bodkin, we don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” cut in Henna. “Connor, hush.”

“No, I want to know,” said Tryle emphatically.

Cadoc cleared his throat. “Shortly after the pillaging of the town of Emery, Emperor Xiang ordered a swift and punishing military response on the United Triad’s main encampment. In one fell swoop, they crushed the Triad and drove every single goblin in the Outer Woodlands back into the forests whence they came. The soldiers didn’t stop even after they’d defeated the Triad forces. On that day, the rivers ran red with goblin blood. Male, female, soldier, or child — all were slaughtered. I know not what your people may have named this day, but in the history books of the Wei Dynasty, this event came to be known as the Sunset Massacre.”

There was a heavy silence. The fire in the fireplace let out a loud snap, sending up a flurry of sparks.

“So that’s why there are only three main villages now,” said Tryle quietly.

Nobody answered immediately. Their faces showed varying degrees of guilt and defensiveness.

“Monsters at our door,” said Connor. “The kingdom on the verge of collapse. Who wouldn’t overreact?”

“You can’t possibly be defending the extrajudicial killing of goblins,” snapped Gabriela.

“The monsters of the Shadowlands and the premier bastion of humanity were at an existential war,” replied Connor. “The very nature of a struggle for survival is extrajudicial. I’m not saying it was right, just that it was inevitable. The unstoppable force of the Xiang Dynasty met the immovable will of the United Triad. Only the Triad misjudged the familiarity of their territory in the Outer Woodlands as an overwhelming advantage and paid the price.”

A cold pit settled in Tryle’s stomach. “So you were part of the Xiang Dynasty. Your family massacred all those goblins?”

Henna shook her head. “The Xiang were the dynasty before ours, led by a dying tyrant whose power rested in one old man with an unquenchable thirst for power. We are the Wei family.” She gestured at the wall-mounted shields with their designs of trees under a shining night sky. “The family of the Gathering Stars. We led the revolt against Emperor Xiang and freed the kingdom from under his iron fist.”

“As heaven willed it,” growled Cadoc. “The murderous dog should have been put in the ground ages ago.”

“All of that was a long time ago,” said Gabriela hastily. “Times have changed since then.”

“You made it sound like I’d have a chance of attending university,” said Tryle. “That there was no rule against goblins learning magical science.”

“Well, yes. Theoretically.”

“Then why are there no goblins where you’re from?”

“Tryle, I…”

“I can provide an answer.” Connor leaned forward. “Because goblins are monsters, Tryle Bodkin. Nothing more, nothing less.”

At Henna’s furious look, Connor said, “What? To human society, he is. Have I declared any falsehoods?”

“I didn’t lie,” mumbled Gabriela. “There’s no law explicitly banning goblins from coming to Medeira.”

Connor let out a harsh laugh. “But there remains the court of public opinion. I wish you luck introducing your goblin friend to your professors, never mind walking through the streets without getting a face-full of bricks. That is, if the sentries don’t shoot him full of arrows first.”

“Connor, stop it.”

“Is that way you gave me the grapple gun earlier?” said Tryle in a constricted voice. “As a consolation prize?”

Gabriela looked stricken. “I…I just thought you’d like it. I didn’t mean to give you false hope or anything —”

“False hope?” Tryle pushed his chair back abruptly and hopped off the seat. He was painfully aware of how silly he looked when not sitting. Without the added height of the chair, his neck was barely level with the edge of the table. But he didn’t care. He was quivering with anger.

“This was all just a joke to you! To make yourself feel better, I suppose, since this is the one and only opportunity you’ll ever have to interact with a goblin. You humans killed quite a few already, so what’s the harm in being nice to one? ‘I’ll just entertain the little creature and his silly little experiments while I go back to my castle and become a Level 1000 Archmage, because his life is going nowhere as it is!’”

“Bodkin,” said Henna pointedly. “Gabriela didn’t mean to lead you astray, nor did I. Please lower your voice.”

“Grandma Henna, I appreciate everything you’ve done — really, I do. But I could have done without your reassurances that your granddaughter could somehow change my life. It’s obvious I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I’m leaving for my village in the morning.”

With that, Tryle gathered up his bedroll and blankets and stormed out to the porch, slamming the door behind him.