Inside, the tireless work of the goblins was displayed to the great fortress of dwarves. The great wooden gates inaugurated a broad street that led directly to the main attraction: the great roller coaster. All along the main road were stalls, tents, and all manner of small carnival games that were hosted by former goblin workers drawing in the visiting dwarfs.

“Step right up, step right up! Knock down the bottle tower and win a prize!” A goblin under a tent of multicolored blue and yellow strips yelled as he pointed to the wooden goblin-made dolls and toys on display.

“Dunk the goblin! Hit 'em with a rock and watch him fall into the vat of paint! Only two golden crowns per rock,” yet another former worker cried, dressed in a garish jester’s outfit made of old rags and sewn-together discarded fabric.

From his plank atop the vat of old paint, the goblin constrained in a coat of ropes and chains yelled out, “As if any of these dwarfs could hit me with such small arms. Look at them! All stoutly and fat. Even a halfling could do it. No, an Elf could do it better.” The angry sections of dwarfs began to congregate to buy the rocks.

“Behold!” a goblin dressed in a traditional tribal warrior outfit cried out from a small stage, trying to vie for the attention of the dwarf crowds. “From the fertile lands of the black plain! From the home of the goblin clans and their ceaseless wars comes the most dreaded, the most-awe inspiring, the most feared game— -- the quartering wheel!”

He cried, pointing his rusty sword to a giant wheel on display. It was made of metal and wood and its sections were painted with all manner of different colors. “For there is no god in the black plain but the goddess of fate. And the quartering wheel is her will. Step forward. Spin the wheel and be judged before her! What will you get? Prizes? Shame? Glory? Dishonor? Riches? Only one golden crown per spin! Step in and find out!”

The judge gasped and stroked his beard as he walked along the main street, while his entourage continued to carry it behind him. “This is most impressive,” he said, glancing at the various games and the goblins running them.

“The goblins are very hard workers,” Ono responded to the judge at his side.

“Yes, and quite adept at making money it seems. These stalls and games were all their idea,” Ini admitted with a slight frown as he saw the various payment pots and pans filling with gold. Almost all of them would go to the union.

The judge smiled, turning to Figwit. “Well, that's good. If we can get the word out to the other dwarf holds, maybe even perhaps the League cities, I'm sure these two will repay the debt in no time.”

“Ha ha, yes ... yes,” Figwit said with a forced and gritted smile, his words dimming to an almost inaudible frequency. He quickly regained his composure, directing the judge’s attention to the few dotted food stalls and carts in the center of the main street.

“Popped newts! Get your popped newts! C'mon don't be shy or picky. They're as scrunchous as can be!” a goblin with a chef's hat cried out, trying in vain to get the passing dwarfs to try the delicacies of the swamp.

“Rat soup! C'mon whats your problem? Too good for my stew? I only put in there the best quality brown gnawers for you freaks! You know what, you don't deserve this stew!” a goblin with a wild unkempt beard gnawed a toothpick in his mouth and cried out from his patchwork-built stall. His rage and anger out-boiled the pot of grayish white liquid below him. His blood filled his head and turned his light green skin to a radish red, making him look more appetizing than the goop with flowing rat bones below him.

The judge frowned as he smelled the fruits of the swamp, warning in a worried tone, “Still have some work to do it seems.”

The brothers hurried their step as if rushing the judge ever forwards toward the main attraction and outside from the food section, saying, “Well, cooking and food's been an issue for a while.”

“Yes, the goblins are great workers but ... not that great chefs,” Ini continued as the smell finally dissipated, leaving Figwit and the judge to take a deep breath.

The human gestured to the judge, bowing his head and back slightly. “I guarantee you, Your Legalship. After cohabiting with them for such a long time, the goblins’s culinary traditions can be quite good. It just takes a little bit to get used to.”

The judge grunted, answering in a rather indignant tone,“Yes I'm sure. But dwarfs that come here won't have the luxury to get used to such culinary ... massacres. You must find a way to fix this.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Yes. Yes.”

“Of course, Your Legalship!” the brothers immediately answered, sweat dripping from their brows at the scathing critique from the long-bearded dwarf.

#

The judge continued. “I heard from your letter about a goblin leader? Where are they? I wish to meet the goblin who gifted you such an incredible workforce, even if it lacks chefs.”

“Oh,” Figwit let out in surprise. A smile emerged from within him as he said. “Well that would be — --”

“Ivy!” Ono let out as the royal goblin princess revealed herself to the party.

She radiated a glowing and commanding vibrant purple. Her old tattered exile cloth was repurposed and resewn into its former noble glory. It was now a seamless and snug violet and gold-trimmed long formal dress that accentuated her straight and narrow posture before it opened itself just below the knees into a flowering and liberating skirt.

Her hair too, the brothers and Figwit noticed, was different. Far from the scraggly and busy mess they always took to be her signature, her hair was straight, mostly combed back into a neat and shapely bun behind her head.

“Your Honor, pleased to finally make acquaintance. Figwit told me much about you,” Ivy declared as she approached the judge, giving him a courtly bow with her dress that was proper of a true princess.

“My word!” the judge exclaimed, his beard in shock as he uttered. “By all of the great hoards of Hammerfell, I never expected that the leader of the goblins would be you, Your Highness.” The judge kneeled before the princess, kissing her hand as she held it out.

A smile escaped from her as she once more experienced the courtly grace.

“Y-you. You know who she is?” Figwit stammered, somewhat in shock at the judge’s action.

“Know her?” the judge answered. “Of course I do! This is Princess Ivy Wolfsbane, exile and true heir to the Haretrapper keep of the Black Plain. Remind me, Your Highness. It was you who came seeking refuge at Amberlight a few years ago, wasn’t it?”

The princess blushed, holding herself in the proper manner as she heard the judge's courtly manners. “Why yes. I never went past gate though. Guards told me and guard to wait for permission from your dead king. It seems we never got proper audience.”

The judge coughed at the piercing words from the princess. Her scorn and disapproval stabbed at his pride in an efficient and sorted bureaucracy. “Yes, yes, I see. Unfortunate delay of stonework, but ...” he began to stroke his beard, trying to recall from the millions of receipts, documents, envelopes, and laminated rock tablets the request of the princess. “Figwit.” He turned to face the human. “Weren't you in charge of relaying such requests to our king at the time?”

“Oh, huh.” The human’s heart sunk. Even without looking he felt the piercing scorn and building hostility from his beloved.

“Yes, yes, yes!” the judge spoke out loud. “You were in charge of it. I remember the King bestowing you the title of royal legal correspondent.

Why didn't you relay the Princess's request to our beloved late king?”

“I huh, hmm. Well, you see ...” Figwit blurted out as he saw the disapproving and burning anger in the princess's eyes. Her shadow seemed to tower over even the roller coaster itself as her look stabbed at the wizard's soul.

“I was, huh, occupied with my seer duties. It must have escaped me, lost itself in transit somewhere,” he let out in an anxious tone as the princess now both aggressively and graciously made her way toward him, her smile accentuating her sharp fangs and teeth. Each of her steps burrowed into the earth and shook it to its very core.

“Ah, of course,” the judge said, dismissing it all with a hand wave as the princess passed him and stood threateningly at the human’s side. “Unfortunately, such is the nature of bureaucracy sometimes. Been camping here in the swamp this entire time, I presume?”

“Yes,” she answered between gritted teeth, her gaze haunting Figwit's very being as sweat dropped from his forehead.

“Must have been awful,” the judge continued. “The bugs, the damp air, the horrible, horrible humidity.”

“Yes, it was. Fortunately, I have met most kind gentlemen here,” Ivy said between hisses and gritted teeth. She grabbed Figwit’s arm, holding it in the proper way a lady of court would: squeezing it and draining the life out of it. In the proper way a vengeful, scorned goblin princess would.

“M-may we please continue?” the human blurted out through the pain of his overwhelming love.

“Yes, yes of course. Your retinue is most impressive, Your Highness. I commend you and your patience,” the judge said as he turned to face the gnome brothers who had turned almost blue from holding in their laughter. “Ini, Ono. You may lead the way.”

“Of course, Your Legalship.”

“This way,” they said in high-pitched voices, the air faintly escaping through their clenched gums.

They led the judge further toward the roller coaster, leaving the princess and the human alone with the judge’s passing beard and the entourage holding it.

Ivy maintained her demeanor, her teeth grinding against one another as she continued to pressure the wizard’s arm.

“Ivy, please, I can't feel it anymore. I'm sorry.”

The princess’s smile faded, her courtly graces ending as she finally let out with a menacingly tone, “Were it not for what you did for me and for what we have done together already I wouldn't just be holding arm, I would be ripping it from you, my star champion.” Her hostile demeanor changed into a more mischievous and still frightening one.

“Great! I'm really sorry for missing your request. Can we go now, please?” Figwit pleaded as he felt the loosening grip of the princess's hold, she lifted his lifeless hand and guided him forwards. “We will, after all. This is big and important moment for little ones. I would hate to ruin it for them. I'm sure in morning you will find way to make up for me, my star champion.” She gave a devious and impish smile. The blood began to flow back into his arm, and the human felt the pain of her nails pierce into his hand's flesh.

Figwit let out a pained grunt, stepping forwards to accept the pained embrace through his gritted smile. The two of them followed the flowing beard at their side as the human relented with a tired, “Great, can't wait.”