The lead-up to the town hall was fast. The council went back and forth on matters of seating and security, but within an hour, the majority of the problems were solved. Everyone was in agreement that the town hall had to be ready to go in a few hours.

Nathan assisted in getting things set up, moving chairs, and getting the word out. He passed on sleep, electing to do as much as possible. Zayen, of course, eventually got exhausted and requested a room—which Nathan was happy to do.

Then the time arrived. Nathan took up a position to the side while the council was all arranged in chairs facing the audience. People started shuffling in—most of them being mushroom people, but one or two werewolves appeared.

I guess since they’re nocturnal, they didn’t get the memo to come in?

Zayen walked up to Nathan and smiled. “I see that you worked through the night. That’s an impressive amount of dedication.”

“Not really.”

Zayen’s eyes widened slightly. “Really? You’re not exhausted at all?”

It must be my high constitution at work. Again.

Nathan’s plant arm twitched again. He glared at it.

“I’ll sit down now,” Zayen said. “Best of luck.”

“Thanks,” Nathan muttered, still focused on his plant arm’s unwanted movement. The twitching was becoming more frequent lately, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

The town hall continued to fill up, the soft sounds of conversation and shuffling feet echoing through the space. More werewolves drifted in, their tall forms standing out among the shorter mushroom folk.

Gius stood up. “If everyone could please find their seats, we’ll begin shortly.”

Nathan scanned the crowd, noting the clear division between species. The mushroom people sat primarily in the front, their bioluminescent caps creating a soft, multicolored glow in the dimmer parts of the hall. The werewolves remained standing at the back, some leaning against the walls with their arms crossed. The tension was subtle but present.

His plant arm twitched again, more violently this time, and he had to grab it with his other hand to keep it still. A few nearby attendees glanced his way, and he tried to make the gesture look casual, like he was just adjusting his sleeve.

Gius glanced over at Nathan and nodded. Nathan nodded back and stood up.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “As your current… administrator, I’m here to moderate this discussion about our transition to democratic governance. We’ll be taking questions and concerns about the electoral process itself. Please keep comments focused on procedural matters rather than party platforms.”

A forest of hands—some fuzzy, some composed of mycelium—rose into the air. Nathan pointed to a mushroom person near the front, their cap giving off a steady blue glow.

“Yes, you first.”

“Thank you, Lord Nathan.” The mushroom person’s voice wavered slightly. “Given the different sleeping patterns of our communities, how can we ensure fair access to polling locations? The Reformer Party is concerned that traditional voting hours might disadvantage certain groups.”

A gruff voice called from the back: “Yeah, like us!” Several werewolves rumbled in agreement.

“Please wait to be called on,” Nathan said. “But yes, this is exactly the kind of practical concern we need to address. Gius?”

Gius stood up. “The current proposal is to have polling stations open for a full twenty-four-hour period, with observers from all parties present throughout.”

He noticed Zayen taking notes in the front row.

Nathan gestured toward a werewolf with silver-streaked fur. “Yes, your question?”

“My concern is about security at the polling stations. We Contractists want to ensure that the vote is free and fair, but we’ve heard rumors about possible intimidation tactics. What safeguards are being put in place to ensure that every voter feels safe?”

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Huh, a werewolf Contractist? That’s interesting.

The room hummed with murmurs, and Nathan held up his hands to settle the crowd. “An important concern,” he said. “Gius?”

Gius cleared his throat and stood again. “Each polling station will be staffed by impartial observers chosen from outside the community they’re stationed in. Law enforcement will remain at a distance unless explicitly called in by multiple observers. We’re also working on a public awareness campaign to assure everyone of their rights and the confidentiality of their vote.”

The werewolf nodded, seeming satisfied. Nathan scanned the crowd for the next question. A part of him wondered where the head of the werewolf mercenaries was—he hadn’t seen him.

Nathan opened his mouth, but a sharp voice interrupted from the back. “What about the council’s partisan ties?”

The room went silent. A werewolf in a tattered cloak stepped forward from the wall. Her fur bristled, and her amber eyes scanned the council members seated behind Nathan. “We all know that some of them are pushing their party agendas already. The Contractists want Burrau in the new house, don’t they? And the TPP? We’ve heard about Sticks.”

The audience stirred, a mix of whispered agreements and nervous glances. Nathan felt his plant arm twitch again, harder this time.

“Let’s address this head-on,” he said. “It’s true that members of the council have their own political leanings. That’s inevitable in any system where people care deeply about their community. But for now, the council exists to manage the transition fairly. Any decisions about who will hold office in the new government will be made by you, the voters.”

The werewolf didn’t back down. “And what if they’re stacking the deck before we even get to vote?”

Nathan felt his arm twitch under his sleeve. “As I said, the council exists to manage the transition fairly—“

“And yet half the council has already picked sides. Everyone knows who’s backing who.”

“How dare you!” A mushroom person stood up. “The council members have given everything to—“

“To what? Set up their friends?” Another werewolf cut in.

Vee leaned forward, adjusting her glasses. “If we could examine this scientifically, the statistical probability of bias in—“

“Oh, here we go with the expert opinion,” someone shouted from the back.

Nathan’s arm spasmed harder, and he had to step back from the podium to grab it with his other hand. A few people in the front row finally noticed, giving him concerned looks.

Papim rose slowly, raising her hands. “Please, friends. The Seed teaches us that in times of strife—“

But the room was already dissolving into chaos. Sticks slouched further into his chair while his brother Bricks stood protectively near him. Casc was already edging toward the exit.

Nathan’s plant arm chose that moment to spasm so violently it knocked over a water pitcher, sending it crashing to the floor.

The sound was like a gunshot in the tense room. Several werewolves instinctively dropped into defensive crouches.

Nathan’s plant arm thrashed again, and this time he couldn’t hide it. Multiple people stared at him, worry on their faces.

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Burrau was on his feet. “Order! We must maintain—“

“Shut it, lawyer!” came a growl from the back.

Gius stood slowly, his aged form somehow commanding attention even in the chaos. “My friends—“ but his voice was lost in the din.

Nathan’s vision blurred slightly as he fought with his rebellious limb. The room had divided itself now – werewolves on one side, mushroom people on the other. He could see Fuge at the door, hand on her sword, uncertain whether to intervene.

Something in Nathan snapped.

“ENOUGH!” he shouted, finally letting go of his plant arm. It whipped out wildly, knocking a chair to the ground with a crash. The room fell silent, all eyes on him and his clearly malfunctioning limb.

“You want to talk about transparency?” Nathan’s voice was steady despite his arm’s continued movement. “Fine. Look at this.” He held up his twitching plant arm. “I’m not perfect. This administration isn’t perfect. And yes, your future government won’t be perfect either.”

He took a breath, scanning the room. “But what I see right now is exactly why we need this transition to work. Look at yourselves—divided, suspicious, ready to fight. Is this what you want? Because I can tell you from experience, fear and mistrust only lead to more of the same.”

His plant arm spasmed again, but this time Nathan didn’t try to hide it. “You think I can’t govern because I can’t control this? Maybe you’re right. That’s exactly why we’re here – to put the power in your hands instead. But if you tear each other apart before we even get there, what was the point of everything we’ve fought for?”

The silence held. The werewolf in the cloak slowly lowered her claws. The mushroom people dropped their hands.

“Now,” Nathan said, his voice quieter but still carrying through the hall, “can we return to discussing actual election procedures? Or should we just admit that none of us are ready for democracy and go back to the old way?”

A low chuckle came from the back—the silver-furred werewolf who’d asked about polling security. Others joined in, the tension bleeding out of the room through scattered laughter and embarrassed shuffling.

“Perhaps,” Gius said. “We could take a short recess? Give everyone a chance to collect themselves?”

Nathan nodded, grateful for the suggestion. As people began to file out, he noticed his plant arm had finally stopped twitching.

Zayen appeared at his side. “That was… impressive. Though we should probably have someone look at your arm.”

“Yeah,” Nathan muttered, flexing the now-still limb. “Probably should.”