Vondaire’s smug face appeared right in front of Owin as he materialized in Oriathria. He yelped and swung the Thunderstrike Maul, entirely out of panic. Vondaire used a single finger to block the swing.

“The council has already gathered for the emergency meeting,” Vondaire said.

“Where’s the council meet?” Sanem asked.

“I’ll be your escort.” Vondaire stood fully upright and adjusted his collar. He was already out of his segmented military armor and was back in his pristine black suit with spotless white gloves.

“What’s your motivation?” Sanem asked.

“Ah, that’s complicated.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Katalin asked.

People moved about the portal circle, many traveling to Atrevaar, but people also used other portals. It was much busier than the first time Owin had passed through.

Vondaire bowed deeply. “Vondaire Faikel, an illustrious gentleman to whom you have had the pleasure of meeting.” He offered his hand, which Katalin backed away from.

“Get on with it, you pig,” Ernie said.

“Ironic for someone hiring the Nimble Hogs to call another a pig.” Vondaire gestured to the nearest gate. Other guards dressed like Vondaire collected portal fees. The one at the nearest gate raised an eyebrow as Vondaire led the group with flair. His walk was exaggerated and he tilted his head and acted as if he lifted a hat to the guard.

Suta lifted his hands and muttered something Owin couldn’t hear as his beady eyes snapped to the guard. Sanem immediately stepped in, blocking the abyssal familiar’s view of the innocent guard. Suta immediately calmed down and continued walking as if he hadn’t been about to punch the guard in the crotch.

Owin had yet to see much of any city. Basically all he had seen of Oriathria was his original sprint through the city, and the Nimble Hogs were so close to the portals that he hadn’t needed to explore much in Atrevaar. Being able to slow down gave him the opportunity to look out at the huge cement buildings and the streetcar tracks that ran down the center of just about every street.

He caught occasional glances of people inside, sitting and talking, drinking, working, or just about anything else. From Owin’s perspective, almost every building looked identical in the immediate area around the portals. Each was a towering structure, a perfect square, with gray cement walls and massive windows.

Vondaire led confidently, walking with jaunty strides. Citizens immediately moved aside upon spotting the man. Owin assumed they recognized the suit, though they may have just been uncertain of the overly happy man strutting toward them.

They quickly passed through the city center to a ring of buildings that were squatter and sported more unique designs. Small parks and old trees covered the lawns of the buildings, hosting happy people lying in the sun or sitting under the shade of the great canopies.

Suta raised his fists at every living thing they passed. Sanem groaned and walked directly beside the familiar, always working to block his view from even squirrels running up the trees. Suta jabbed harmlessly into the air, bouncing on his clawed feet, which only received another groan from Sanem.

“When was the last time we were in Oriathria?” Ernie asked. The short man looked off the sidewalk, taking in the sights. He toyed with the bottles on his belt, frequently removing corks and placing them in again without even watching.

“Althowin needed some ogre’s acid a year ago.” Katalin kept her hands in her pockets and had her eyes constantly locked on Vondaire’s back. She hadn’t looked around once, like Oriathria had nothing exciting to offer.

“Ogre’s acid is difficult to obtain,” Vondaire said.

“What would a military man know about it?” Ernie said, immediately defensive.

Vondaire turned, one eyebrow raised. “My apologies, apprentice. I forgot how familiar your kind are with the first four levels of the seven dungeons.”

“We could climb if we wanted,” Katalin said.

“Certainly.” Vondaire turned back forward. “Do you see that spiral?” He slowed his stride and gestured with his entire hand.

Ahead, the street narrowed, ending in a streetcar stop before forming into one wide walkway. Small statues of people in heroic poses lined the walkway, spaced out by decorated flower beds of blossoming plants that Owin couldn’t ever hope to identify. Some were blue, others were yellow, and others were some other combinations of colors.

“The capitol of Oriathria, the Seed.”

The Seed was shaped like a raindrop and made of spiral roots, growing smaller until they met at the top at a fine point. Despite its odd appearance, the building was massive.

“Is it an actual seed?” Owin asked.

Even Suta looked at Owin like he was a moron.

“No,” Sanem said. “It’s just a fancy building.”

Vondaire stopped near the streetcar stop and leaned against the small shelter. “Have any of you met the council of Izylia before?”

Owin didn’t even know there was a council of Izylia. Or even what a council was. “No.”

“We know you haven’t,” Vondaire said. “I was primarily asking those that may have had the opportunity, not you or the demon.”

“Not a demon,” Suta said, raising his hands as if to fight Vondaire.

“Abyssal familiar. Demon. The difference is minimal. Sanem? Alchemists?” Vondaire raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Why would I have met the council?” Sanem said.

“No. Get on with it,” Ernie said. “We have a deadline, and we would love to keep it.”

“Yes, yes, your mistress is a strict one, isn’t she?”

Ernie opened his mouth to protest, but Vondaire immediately vanished and reappeared with his elbow on the alchemist’s shoulder.

“When we go in,” Vondaire started before Ernie could interrupt. “We will walk straight through the main hallway. I will ensure no guards stop you. Through the main door you will find the twenty council members. None of them matter. Not at the moment. Elected officials rarely have anything interesting to add up front. They are easily swayed by money, which we are aware the Nimble Hogs don’t have, and the alchemists are not willing to spend their fortune, otherwise they would be with Void Nexus, Magna Regum, or the Three Heads. What else might easily sway a common person?” Vondaire made a show of glancing between the three humans. He seemed to purposely avoid questioning Owin or Suta, though Owin wasn’t sure why.

“Anger,” Owin said.

Vondaire grinned and pointed at him. “Correct, goblin. And how, may I ask, do you know that?”

“Experience. Humans have tried to kill me forever. Even before I was awake.”

Sanem frowned, Ernie and Katalin avoided looking at him, Suta raised his fists at a bird that flew overhead, and Vondaire’s grin grew wider.

“Then, Owin, how might anger help us free Chorsay?”

“Why do you care?” Sanem said. “You don’t know Chorsay. You don’t know Owin.”

Vondaire pulled his arm away from Ernie and bowed again. “As I said before, I am Vondaire Faikel, and I take an interest in things that may benefit me. Originally I thought Owin was a threat, but now—”

“That’s not enough.” Owin pushed past Suta and stood right in front of Vondaire.

The umbra raised an eyebrow and practically had to place his chin against his chest to even look at Owin’s face. “Not enough? Am I expected to share every detail of my personal life with some lowly career heroes?”

“I’ve met two humans that didn’t try to kill me. You and Artivan.”

Sanem pointed to herself. “I didn’t—”

“You were ready to kill me until you saw the sword.” Owin narrowed his eyes and stared straight up at Vondaire’s black and yellow eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me how amazing Artivan was. He saved my life. He taught me how to show mercy. He also taught me how to kill. How to create fear. You probably don’t even know who he was, but you should’ve.” Owin reached forward and poked Vondaire’s stomach. “Why did you see a goblin and not try to kill it?”

“I’ve never killed a fellow hero,” Vondaire said.

“Bullshit,” Ernie said. “Umbras are the most murderous lot.”

“Quite the assumption for an alchemist. Shall we acknowledge the tropes of the alchemists? The cowards? The snobs?” Vondaire gestured to Ernie and Katalin.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Fuck you,” Katalin said.

Suta nodded and chittered.

“How can freeing Chorsay benefit you in any way?” Sanem asked. “I’m not one to deny help, but Owin is right. Why are you really doing this?”

“You’ve met Taralim, my supervisor. I’ve now had the pleasure of meeting Chorsay. What do those two have in common?”

“Enough with the questions. You’re wasting our time,” Ernie said.

“We’re fine,” Katalin whispered.

“Perhaps you should listen to your woma—”

Ernie’s fist smashed against Vondaire’s cheek hard enough to stagger the umbra. Vondaire spat blood onto the sidewalk and wiped his glove over his mouth. Somehow, no blood stained the white glove.

Ernie pulled a shining bottle from his belt and held it in front of Vondaire’s face. “Talk about Katalin again and I’ll shove this down your fucking throat.”

Katalin had also managed to produce a metal pipe from her bag without Owin even noticing her reaching back. She looked significantly more calm than Ernie, though her fingers twitched against the metal surface of the bomb.

“Stop,” Owin said. He pushed Ernie back with surprising ease. “Stop.”

Ernie clutched the shining bottle and took a step back. “Answer the questions.”

“I will pass on the opportunity. Thank you for the offer.” Vondaire tapped a finger against the corner of his mouth, cleaning up the last of the blood. “Perhaps those of you in need should learn to take help when it’s offered.”

“I don’t trust you,” Owin said.

“Trust is not needed in such a charitable case. This hearing is going on at the moment. I will leave you here, as you seem to be certain I will cause more harm than help. I do hope you succeed.” Vondaire bowed. Smoke consumed him as he vanished.

Suta jabbed through the smoke until Sanem shoved the familiar aside.

“That was weird,” Katalin said.

“I don’t like it, but he’s right. We need to hurry. If they come to a conclusion before we get inside, this was all meaningless.” Sanem set off down the path with haste. Owin walked right beside her, ignoring the looks of the Izylia Unity Force soldiers stationed outside.

They clearly didn’t want Owin there, but they made no move to stop them. The soldiers remained at their posts, hands on their weapons and eyes on Owin.

Sanem pushed through the front doors, into a tiled lobby that was bustling with energy. People argued at counters, walked awkwardly fast to the stairs, or waited eagerly outside the main doors. Owin didn’t understand anything that was happening, but Sanem placed her hand on his head and helped guide him straight through the lobby and to the stained glass double doors that led to the council chamber.

“Let me in first,” Ernie said.

“Are you sure?” Sanem slowed down, pulled Owin out of the way.

Owin let himself be dragged to the side. He didn’t know what was really happening. If he threw that door open, what would he say? How many people would try to stab him or shoot some spell at his face? Probably most.

“Yes. I have an idea.” He stopped right before the door, letting Katalin step beside him. “You know what I’m thinking?”

She sighed. “Usually. She won’t be happy.”

“The mushrooms will make her happy enough.”

Katalin slowly nodded. “I suppose. Let’s get it over with.”

Ernie pushed the door open, revealing a massive chamber filled with an audience. Chorsay sat alone at a small table directly in the center, surrounded by a half circle table filled with council members.

Chorsay’s gravelly voice boomed from within, echoing throughout the entire chamber and spilling into the lobby now that the door was open. “. . . and if he had walked into Oriathria without needing to defend himself, would he be a criminal because of who he is?”

“No,” a council member said. “He—”

“What do you think,” another interrupted. “Are we expected to let anything into our cities? If an ogre escaped the Great Forest, are we meant to hire the monster for the Unity Force?”

A few council members laughed at the idea.

“No,” Chorsay said. “He’d join the Nimble Hogs.”

“Enough,” someone said.

Ernie strolled right through the threshold, but was stopped by a stiff arm blocking his path.

“You’re not welcome,” Taralim said. His yellow eyes bore a hole through Ernie’s head.

“Get out of my fucking way.” Ernie shoved the soldier’s arm aside.

Taralim grabbed Ernie’s shirt and effortlessly lifted him off the ground. “Scum should be on the streets.”

Ernie spat a gob onto Taralim’s helmet. “You clearly don’t know who my master is.”

“Taralim,” a council member said, their voice echoing even more than Chorsay’s.

Owin leaned to the side, looking past Taralim and Ernie. The entire chamber was watching the guard as he slowly turned to face the council.

“You’ll want to set him down. I believe I recognize that man.”

Taralim slowly lowered Ernie to the ground and resumed his position by the door as if he didn’t have spit running down the outside of his helmet.

Ernie allowed Katalin to step through so they could walk side by side down the aisle, between the rows of people eagerly watching the newcomers. Sanem put her hand on Owin’s head and used the other to grab the back of Suta’s shirt.

“Let them handle this,” she said.

“Master Ernworth Eckelson. Correct?” the council member asked.

Ernie and Katalin stopped at Chorsay’s table, flanking him on opposite sides. Chorsay didn’t look at them. Owin wanted to run forward. He wanted to let people see him, to know he wasn’t going to murder them all, even if he sometimes wanted to. But Sanem was right. Ernie and Katalin wanted to handle it, and Chorsay could manage on his own.

“Just Ernie. I’m no master. But you are familiar with mine. Althowin Alegarra sent us to Atrevaar to hire the Nimble Hog known as Owin the goblin. When we got there, the leader of the Nimble Hogs was nowhere to be seen. Instead, we found a wrecked storefront.”

“This won’t work,” Taralim said, just loud enough for Owin to hear. Even Sanem didn’t react.

“You don’t scare me.”

“Hm?” Sanem looked down at Owin before realizing Taralim was looking at them. “Piss off.”

“How does Master Alegarra know about the goblin?” a council member asked.

“News travels fast,” Katalin said. “Althowin doesn’t really take no for an answer, and we are on a deadline. So, if you all don’t mind us hurdling this bureaucratic bullshit, we would love to finish our deal with Chorsay and get on our way.”

“Crimes don’t disappear just because Althowin wants to meet a goblin.”

Ernie clapped loudly. “And which one of you wants to tell her she can’t have her way?”

“Council,” Taralim said, striding forward. “Althowin Alegarra, even if she is a legend, is not above the law. The goblin and Chorsay are criminals. You sent me to retrieve the goblin, who is now standing right outside.”

Everyone shifted to face Owin. Sanem awkwardly waved. Suta lifted his fists, but was shoved aside by Sanem’s foot.

“Why did I bring you?” she whispered.

“I’ll kill him,” Suta chittered.

“Come up here,” Chorsay said.

Owin froze. The council chamber held more people than Owin had ever seen. There were so many people, and every single one of them stared right at his purple hair.

“Give me the hammer,” Sanem said.

Owin lifted it up. Sanem took it, grunting as she adjusted to the weight.

Chorsay stood, causing his chains to rattle, and faced Owin. His smile was warm as he nodded. Sanem gently shoved Owin forward. He took a deep breath as he started to move, keeping his eyes on the tiled floor.

“Why does Althowin want to meet the goblin? Certainly she has seen plenty of goblins in her climbs,” a council member said.

“And yet, she has never met one outside the dungeon walls. Same as any of you,” Ernie said.

“Actually, most of you have never met a goblin,” Katalin said. “So, feast your eyes. This is what we face inside the dungeons, and why people like me and Ernie need escorts. We rely on the hero companies, and by taking their leaders for bullshit hearings, you are making our lives more difficult.”

Taralim stopped at the edge of the audience. Owin didn’t bother glancing up as he passed. Within seconds of nearing the table, Chorsay’s massive hands wrapped around Owin and lifted him up. Owin tensed as Chorsay placed him on the table, facing the council members. They looked varying versions of old. Few, if any, were younger than Artivan had been.

“May I approach?” Taralim asked.

“No,” Chorsay said. He clenched his fists, causing the shackles to pop open like they weren’t even locked. The chains fell to the ground and clattered on the tile. “We’re here because of him. I won’t file a grievance for the damage Taralim caused to my headquarters, even if he overstepped his bounds. What I will do is show you that this goblin is no different than a young man. Owin?”

Owin pressed his lips together and looked at Chorsay. He squeezed his hands together. Without the weight of the Thunderstrike Maul, he felt light and uneasy. That weight had become part of him, always making him stand a little off balance. Now without it, he might float away.

“When you gained awareness in the dungeon, what was your first thought?” Chorsay asked.

“I was scared,” Owin whispered.

“Louder,” Ernie said.

“I was scared,” Owin repeated.

“And when you left the forest just outside Oriathria, what was going through your mind?” Chorsay asked.

“I had to find the Nimble Hogs.”

The council members whispered to each other.

“Why find us?” Chorsay asked.

“I—” Owin shook his head.

Chorsay’s massive hand appeared on his shoulder, adding a little weight to his right side. “Tell them the truth.”

“I was told the Nimble Hogs were the only people who would help me. He said they would be my friends, like he was.”

“Who is he?”

“The knight, Artivan Morro,” Chorsay said. “He was a great man from Kriergow who gave his life to save Owin from other heroes who wanted to kill him in the Great Forest. Now, council, Owin may be different, but as we have stated, he was defending himself and has been doing so from the moment he awoke. I don’t know about you all, but one of the last things I want to do is piss off Althowin Alegarra. If Ernie and Kat come asking for a hero, I give them a hero every time. Can we be on our way?”

“We cannot allow Althowin to dictate how we handle things in Oriathria,” a council member said.

“And who is going to stop her if she’s angry with you?” Ernie asked.

“Zezog,” someone said.

Katalin burst out in laughter, awkwardly silencing the room. “When was the last time someone saw Zezog?” She barely contained her laughter. “What a weird thing to threaten us with.”

“We’re taking this to the other councils,” someone said.

“The crime or Owin’s existence?” Chorsay asked.

“His existence. You know what this is about.”

“Then let us all stop acting.” Chorsay picked Owin up again and set him on the ground. “Drop the bounty. If you come for Owin, you’ll be the criminals and we won’t hesitate to defend one of our own.”

“A crime,” Taralim said. “A Shard Carrier cannot threaten the Unity Force.”

Chorsay turned with clenched fists. “Step foot near a Nimble Hog, and I’ll rip that helmet off and hold that pale face of yours under the sun.”

Taralim scowled. He didn’t like that threat. Everything about his demeanor had shifted in a moment. Owin suddenly found the man significantly less intimidating, even if Taralim could still rip Owin in half without effort.

A bounty has been removed.

You are no longer wanted by the Izylia Unity Force.

“The bounty is gone,” Owin said.

“Good.” Chorsay guided Owin past Taralim and into the aisle of silent spectators. “Don’t slow down.”

“This isn’t over,” a council member said.

“Yes, it is,” Chorsay said. “Next time, place the bounty on me.”