So, the goblins had helicopters. Six of them. According to Helen one was a hangar queen but could be in the air with a lot of blood sweat and tears. They also had thirty tanks, and a lot of explosives. Like an upsetting amount. Janie looks deeply worried that the arsenal was parked within ten miles of her house.

I didn’t understand those risks so I got to live in blissful ignorance. …yay.

The rest of the meeting was a lot of back and forth about high level plans. I mean fundamental stuff. We decided that we would try to attack the tower using only soldiers. That classification was fairly broad in goblin culture. That meant of the 127,765 goblins in the warband, just under 36,000 would be going to fight. Toad was working on a more complex strategy beyond Angelica’s ‘get ‘em’.

I had to walk Janie back to the Mandir. The goblins asked me specifically to confirm she got there and wasn’t just out loose… stealing souls… or children. We were all going to need to work on that.

Sunit and Zarina tagged along. Nanny Shank was with us also, to supervise. She was sitting on my shoulder since the old, little goblin had trouble keeping up with us walking. Angelica claimed she needed Brand’s help with something so they had lagged behind in the tent. Not sure what that was about. Spine was with his dad, they had things to talk about. That mention of a blue goblin seemed to be the main subject of their interest.

United just to scatter again.

There were too many people. Too much to control. One step at a time. Just keep moving forward. I felt the nail on my pinky. I am not the titan. I can do better. Treat this like everything else. Define a goal…

“You listening?” Nanny Shank elbowed my head. She was less than gentle.

I just looked at everyone.

“How many people do you think we should bring to this trial?” Janie asked.

“How many can you control?” That was basically an answer.

“We will need to have some of Madigan’s students,” Sunit pointed out.

“Maybe a hundred,” Zarina didn’t look confident.

“A hundred total or a hundred of this Madigan’s student’s?” I asked. That point needed clarity.

“Students, I guess. It depends on how we pick ‘em,” Janie said.

It clicked. I needed to trust people. Dumb as it sounded, I trusted Janie, and Sunit. Not like we had too much connecting us, but I trusted them to try and be decent people. Zarina and I had said some things, but her students were good kids. That sort of thing doesn’t happen by accident. She was a pragmatist, and she wasn’t going to stick her neck out for me. That said I could tell she wouldn’t let this devolve into anarchy. She understood she would have to live with the consequences.

That was a lot more politically savvy than I used to be.

I forced myself to not sigh, “I trust you to handle your side of this.”

That basically wrapped up the conversation.

The split second we were alone Nanny Shank started hacking coughing. It was bad. It was a wet cough. She almost fell off my shoulder. I had to help the old goblin by holding her in place.

Eventually that stopped and she managed to breathe, she spat a wad of phlegm and blood on the ice, “You’re not what I expected.” She took a swig from a little bottle. I could smell codeine. She pulled her pipe out of her pocket and started filling it with tobacco.

“You aren’t going to talk about you hacking up a lung?” I asked.

“I’m old, I smoke, and I am dying. I figured you could just read between the lines on this,” she lit her pipe and puffed. “Why aren’t you just smashing your way through every obstacle?”

I kept walking for a moment. Another dying woman. Don’t get me wrong, everyone is dying, but this felt almost coordinated. Wilson seemed to like to set things up ahead of time. Lay a foundation that seemed stable just so it could drop out from under you. This wasn’t the acute stab of Mina’s death. That would have been worse if the narrator's manipulation wasn’t so blatant and clumsy. Mina making her wishes known also blunted the edge substantially. If anything Nanny Shanks impending mortality was a gentle nudge. Unless it wasn’t. Was I just seeing patterns where none existed?

We were about halfway between the goblin camp and the Mandir.

I stopped, “Do you know what real power is?”

“No, Tell me,” She said.

“It is the ability to do what you want. In the rare situation where you have to do something, you get to do things the way you want to do them.” I watched the goblin in the camp bustling. There were so many of them. I couldn’t imagine me -the Titan- picking things up and trying to travel through a place like this. Were they desperate?

“That seems foundational,” Nanny Shank exhaled another cloud, “Since you want me to ask, what do you want to do?”

“In the short term. I want to bring Ticky some closure. I want to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again. That means I want to do this right.” Dammit, that sounded preachy.

Nanny Shank nodded, “Tell me long term. What do you want a year from now?’

“No bullshit?” I asked. You had to lay some groundwork before you say certain things.

“No bullshit,” She insisted.

“I just want to help people,” I admitted. “That and find some loved ones. People I -the titan- used to know.”

Nanny Shank was quiet for a long moment. She took another swig of the little bottle of hers, “God help me. I believe you.”

“So what do we do next?” I asked.

“What?” she asked around a cloud of smoke.

“What do you want me to do? What will help?” I asked.

“You are seriously asking me?” The goblin nudged me to let her down.

I set her on her feet, “Who else to tell me what the goblins need? I’ll even listen to what you say.”

“We have the trial, but Ticky isn’t going to be there,” She started.

“He said he wants to,” I pointed out.

“He is also a dumb kid. He thinks knowing what happened is going to bring him peace. It won’t,” she spat another mouthful of bloody phlegm. She dumped the ash out of her pipe, “He left a sentencing guide already. I’ll handle it.”

“Fair enough,” I considered, “How is this trial going to go?”

“I think it is better than a coin flip. Not to shatter your opinion of us, but every goblin is going to vote to convict. That means your job is to convince the humans… and elves to see the person Tazia was.”

“How does that work out to better than a coin flip?” I asked.

“You gotta pay attention to the politics. This Madigan asshole isn’t popular.” She cleared her throat, and coughed a few times before taking another swig from the bottle.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“How do you figure?” I was confused.

“Most beloved leaders, specifically those with a large amount of combat trained subordinates, don’t sit in jail without someone doing something about it.” she looked around, “Not one vainglorious dipshit in sight. Let me ask you something. If you were in trouble, hypothetically how long do you think that kid, Spine, would wait before doing something?”

I could see what she meant. “He would probably try to be the one to hit first, hit hard, and keep hitting. Maybe six hours, if he thought through things and tried to pick his moment. That said, I know he is smart enough to stay out of it if things were too dangerous.”

The old goblin eyed. “What are the odds everyone in the town there is smarter than that kid?”

That is sound logic. How was Janie the only person to come over here demanding Madigan be returned? I didn't like the guy. I was literally going to lobby against him. Come to think of it, if he gets sentenced to death, I was probably going to be the one to kill him.

Willpower check… Successful

Emotional state remains in control

Note: Repeated rolls will increase the difficulty.

Yep that that was troubling. The fact that I could not tell which outcome, Madigan being released or sentenced to death, I preferred is what really upset me. Don’t get me wrong. Neither was good, but one had to be better than the other. I should be able to tell which was which.

No point dwelling on that. I needed to keep moving. Deal with it when I get there. “What next?

I felt the tell tail thrum of time stopping

[Flag] Delete Message

All Processes Stopped

Retcon begins in:

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

I looked around. Nothing had changed.

Time started again. What did they do?

“Well we need to…” Nanny Shank started but stopped when she saw the look on my face. “What’s wrong Doug…”

“Something changed,” I said still looking for the change

Time Stopped again.

Arbitration Begins in…

5…

4…

3…

2…

I was back in that damn conference room again.

I decided to test something. I immediately spun on my heels as fast as I could. Let’s see what happens when one of them tries to appear behind me now.

Crash!

“Ow!” Brandon managed.

Holy shit, it worked. I finished another half turn and found Brandon and Lindsey haphazardly flung over the table and chairs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lindsey demanded.

I shrugged, “I must be acting out. This pair of idiots keep parking their clown car in my driveway.”

“You’re joking?” Lindsey demanded. She kicked Brandon off of her before getting to her feet.

“No, I am mocking you.” I corrected.

“Do you know what I am going to do to you?” She demanded.

“Threaten me. Yell and flail. Lindsey, all you do is threaten me. Which is dumb. We both know you won’t do anything because the Titan will come down here and stop you.” I walked past them and sat in a chair.

“I can hurt your friends. One retcon and someone loses a leg,” Lindsey all but hissed at me.

“Two things,” I held up two fingers. “One if you do. I will make it a point to tell the audience the whole story. I’ll make sure they will know you by name.” I dropped my pointer finger and gave her the bird, “Two fuck you and your fake threats.”

“Well said,” Wilson said, patting me on the shoulder. He appeared behind me.

“Where were you? Control your client!” Lindsey snapped.

“I figure Doug would do some sort of silly spinning act. I gave him a minute to tire out.” Wilson sat down a few chairs from me.

“Doug is getting kind of hostile,” Brandon complained.

When he spoke his voice was half hearted and feeble, “No Doug. Don’t fight Brandon and Lindsey. If you do that you could kill them… like literally murder them. They don’t have to stats to take you in a fight. Especially Brandon.”

“Wilson, you asshole!” Lindsey shouted. She had been glaring at me and almost looked ready to fight. Not anymore. She took three big steps back away from me.

“Why did you single me out?” Brandon asked. He didn’t show any sign of fearing for his life.

“Shut up! Your barely more than an intern and you know it!” Lindsey hissed.

“Can we get to the point?” I demanded.

“What point?” Brandon asked.

“I keep forgetting, you’re pointless,” I muttered. I considered, “Why don’t you want me talking about the retcon?”

“It breaks audience immersion,” Lindsey said. She glared at me like she resented being expected to speak.

I nodded, “So… the problem is you two are stupid.”

Lindsey’s face contorted.

“Uh… how do you figure?” Brandon asked.

“I can see when you make retcon. I don’t like you. Which leads to the obvious question, why would you hand me a stick to beat you with?” I asked.

“Are you threatening us?” Lindsey demanded.

“Oh you do that too. Between you and Brandon I have solipsistic narcissism in stereo. Yes, I am threatening you, because you fucked up…bad.” I gave them a moment to consider that.

Lindsey, for reasons that can only be described as foolish desperation, went to Wilson for help, “Aren’t you the one who should be advocating for your client?”

Wilson’s grin widened, “Nah, the kid’s got you bent over the table and pounding you good enough. I don’t need to hold his shoulders so he doesn’t tip over.”

“Was that a weird sex thing or an awkward bike metaphor?” I asked.

Wilson shrugged, “The important thing is Lindsey and Brandon are losing.” he paused for a beat, “but it was a sex thing.”

“Stop ignoring me!” Lindsey yelled.

“Fine, I will focus my ire on you. What are you going to give me?” I asked.

“For what?” Brandon asked.

“For not outing you to the audience for retconning my story,” I pointed out.

Brandon and Lindsey exchanged a look.

“So you want us to put it back?” Lindsey asked.

“Tell me what you changed?” I said. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Now we were at the dangerous part. The words yes and no were now high stakes.

“It is inappropriate to tell you that.” Brandon protested.

“Do it anyways,” I said.

Wilson smiled.

“We don’t answer to you,” Lindsey said. When she realized she didn’t have anything else to say she just sort of glared at me. Still no killing looks. Which was good for me.

I mimicked Wilsons shrug. God that felt dirty. “Okay send me back, Do you prefer to be described as a shrill redhead or shrill ginger?”

Brandon and Lindsey exchanged looks again.

“Fine, we altered the path of several mobs. They would have shown up at the beginning of the trial. The new path will have them on top of you immediately. We adjusted this to prevent pacing issues.”

“Is Grond messing with mobs again?” I asked. I was probably going to have to figure out how to permanently kill a god.

Brandon opened his mouth. But Lindsey spoke first, “Don’t tell him anything.”

“Grond isn’t involved. He off doing stuff over on the east coast,” Wilson sad entering the conversation proper.

“What’s he doing over there?” I asked. That was way to big of a pivot to not be a problem… a long term one at least.

“They don’t know, I am not going to tell ya,” Wilson said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“You just told him,” Lindsey pointed at Wilson, “I could report you.”

WIlson smiled at her, “You could, but if you do, I will report you for doing the same thing first. Grace would be quite upset with you.”

Lindsey frowned. “What do you want?”

“Stop fucking with my story,” I said slowly. “Do you got that?”

“Yes,” Brandon said.

“We can’t just let stories play out randomly,” Lindsey said.

“I’ll compromise. Run ideas past me and if I think they are good, I’ll let you do them.” I offered.

Wilson beamed.

“Eat a dick!” Lindsey shouted.

“We should take the deal,” Brandon said.

Lindsey glared at me, “Fine I won’t retcon your story directly without talking to you.”

“Good,” WIlson said, still messing around on his phone. “Stop touching my toys.”

“Don’t think I have forgotten you,” I told him.

Wilson looked up from his phone and grinned at me, “Oh?”

“I don’t want you messing with the story either,” I told him.

“Want in one hand. Shit in the other,” Wilson said leaning back from the table.

“I’m serious,” I started.

Wilson didn’t let me build up a head of steam. “No, you think you are a big man because you can out smart those two idiots. You can’t pull that bush league maneuver with me.”

“What’s to stop me outing you to the audience?” I pressed him.

“A few things. First without me, you go back to dealing with Grace and the heavy hand of her lackeys. Prepare for negligent… Spawnicide if you do. The next bit is I don’t retcon. You complaining about things or trying to highlight plot points is just going to make you sound Meta. The audience may not like it but they won’t revolt.” Wilson put his phone away. When he smiled. It was an almost friendly smile. “I am sending you back now. Have fun. Do what you want.”