With Eve and Franky off to work at the bar, Luka sat alone with Leo in the school-courthouse’s main room. Together, they watched as various villagers filled the room, taking up tables and chairs meant for the kids. Tired-eyed children lined the furthest wall, sitting with their legs crossed and with small jars of paint beside them. They practically played in the paint, drawing with their fingers or stamping with their palms, completely oblivious to the reason why their school was filled with adults.

Luka recognized everyone, though some names still eluded him. Clay and Momma Nan sat toward the front, Ben and the dryad, Mrs. Leafsong, near the side. Extra benches had been shuffled in, the kind used in court for extended family or interested parties. Some villagers were missing—sent off to Sneerhome with a grocery list of items for tomorrow’s opening. Apparently, the booths ran out of beer and mead—which was a serious problem as far as Luka was concerned. Selling alcohol was like printing money. Flat. Out. Profit.

At the far end of the room, a small stage held a busy Mayor Tram. She bent over the stage’s accompanying table, going over a stack of notes and trying to ignore the whispers from her residents. Luka wondered where the elderly orc wandered off to during the day, the answer was apparently to do paperwork.

After a few more villagers entered, Tram cleared her throat and addressed the room.

“Well, everyone, congratulations. Today went far more smoothly than I anticipated. Everyone pitched in, everyone acted with tact and grace. So, let’s have a round of applause for us!”

The villagers clapped, and Luka did as well.

She continued, “Now, I’m sure everyone wants to get off to bed before we restart today, tomorrow, so I’ll keep this brief. Today was a success in more ways than one. First off, there were no complaints about any of the attractions not being worth their price. In fact, I expect we could increase prices for the WHEEL and not see any issues.

“Moving on from there, there were complaints about the food—but nothing some tweaking can’t fix—”

“I can help!” little Ren shouted, jumping to his feet, his fingers coated in teal paint.

Tram replied in stride, “I’m sure you could, tiny chef. Cook times, recipes, that kind of stuff needs improving. The smash burgers were far and away the most popular, with pizza oddly the least.”

She looked at Luka, who replied, “I think it will catch on.”

“Uh-huh,” the mayor murmured. “Past that, beer, mead, and wine all sold similarly… until someone announced half-prices, and wine was all but forgotten. For some reason.”

Again, she waited for Luka’s response. He simply said, “It was Eve’s idea.”

Tram didn’t glare, but she did stare disappointedly. “Moving on, we sold out, even after buying what we thought would be enough for three days. Plans have already been set to rectify that. Next is merchandise.”

She glanced at a piece of paper. “’I survived the WHEEL!’ shirts sold the most but were also given away for free the most. ‘Opening day’ shirts sold second best, while ‘World Walker Park’ shirts sold third best. Not many trinkets—or as Luka calls them, souvenirs—sold.”

“They will, give it time,” Luka added, gently stroking tiny-Leo’s fluffy fur. “And as for the shirts, I think we need to give more away. Relatively free advertising is always—”

“We already gave enough advertising!” someone shouted, an older orc named Flee. “Goddess Tippy blessed the park herself! There’s no reason to give away any more free stuff!”

Mayor Tram smiled as the man spoke. “I’m glad to see you so passionate, Flee. Reminds me of the good ol’ days, eh?” Flee tugged his lips down into a frown. “But to answer your point, yes, the Goddess blessed the park, and yes, that’s going to draw people here. And yet, regardless of divine intervention, the shirts given away for free today are going to recoup their cost by tomorrow. And the shirts given away tomorrow are going to recoup their cost by the next day. And so on.”

Tram held up a hand, silencing the budding outrage from her statements. “Allow me to show you all.” She shifted some papers around, finding a relatively blank one near the bottom of her stack. She read directly from it.

“Costs: fifty-three gold pieces, four silver. Most of that was for infrastructure, the benches, the WHEEL, the gate, etcetera. The rest was food, drink, and fabric.” Tram paused, edging on dramatically. “With that said, the park made four hundred and seventy-one gold pieces…” the room lit up with hoots and hollers, “and seven silver.”

Tram let the cheering go for a few short minutes. “Here’s to the World Walker!” “Huzza!” “The village is saved!” were among the things they shouted.

Loudly clearing her throat, Tram said, “We’re not out of the wolf house yet. One day of profit does not make us successful. With that said, Mrs. Hills was kind enough to sit at the park’s entrance and tally guests. Four hundred ninety-one guests entered, meaning, on average, everyone spent just over one gold piece for a full day’s entertainment.”

From the back of the room, an orcish woman, Mrs. Hills, stood and addressed the room. She was pregnant, her belly wide and bulbous. She, in just a few weeks, would be the first new mother in the village since the accident.

“I also wrote down additional information,” Mrs. Hills began, “regarding when certain people entered and left the park. For example, I talked with another pregnant lady for a few minutes when she entered the park. She was here with her son and was interested in riding the WHEEL after learning about it. I had her promise to say bye to me when she left so I could note how long she stayed in the park.”

Mrs. Hills checked her notes. “For her, she stayed for just over two hours. Another person I made note of stayed for four hours. Another for three hours and fifteen minutes. I noted a family of six, they only stayed for thirty minutes after their youngest threw a temper tantrum.” She locked eyes with Luka. “I have a long list if you want to see it.”

“I do!” Luka said, giving his best—hopefully Eve approved—smile. He was never big on data crunching, but sometimes, a number set was a godsend when it came to things like this.

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But still! Luka thought. Almost five hundred guests? That far exceeds what I expected. And a gold piece per person? Seems high…

Apparently, the villagers agreed. “A gold on average?” someone asked. “Preposterous!”

“A gold? That’s more than I make in a week!”

“How do people spend that much!? The food I was selling wasn’t expensive at all!”

Tram raised a hand, silencing the chatter. “The WHEEL was the biggest ‘seller,’ and always had a full queue.” She looked at Luka. “That reminds me, can you make the line longer? We were spilling out into the walkway.”

He nodded.

“Anyway,” she continued, “people rode multiple times—and didn’t buy the all-day pass.”

“We need the passes to sell more,” a voice said.

Luka turned, finding the big hunk of muscle that was Gr’rok. Surprisingly, the man’s voice was more akin to a scrawny teenager… at least, when the man wasn’t trying to intimidate a line full of rowdy guests.

“Why’s that?” Tram asked.

“I can’t, in good conscience, watch people spend the amount of money they did for single rides.” Gr’rok held his arms crossed, his brows furled. “I felt dirty, like I was scamming people.”

Tram glanced at Luka, who was already glancing at her. “Can we explain?” she asked.

“Parents dipped into their coin purses to pay for all their youngsters, then did it again a few minutes later. We profited on children.”

Luka loudly hummed. “On Earth, most amusement parks were pay to enter, not pay per ride. But I think that the payment model only works if the park is big enough. Without enough attractions, people just won’t pay to enter regardless of price.”

“Is that true?” Tram asked. “If the price is low enough—”

“Then we won’t make a profit. Unless you all don’t want to be paid for your work here. Because soon labor is going to be our biggest expense.”

“I want to be paid…” someone muttered.

“We’re going to be paid?” asked another.

“Of course, everyone’s going to be paid.” Luka gestured to Gr’rok. “But I can see the issues, especially with large families. We are a small village, and you all know what the cost of living is far better than I do. So, if people are spending too much money, we need to lower prices. Otherwise, people won’t come, and no one wants that.”

“How do we fix it then?” Gr’rok asked.

“The all-day passes are one way. Maybe people just didn’t know about them well enough? We can highlight the passes better in several ways: word of mouth, signage, we could even put the booth at the entrance to the park, so everyone must walk by it when they first come in. Then, we can also give discounts on kids, as well as larger parties.”

They discussed for another hour, but many of the conversations turned into rehashing previous statements. All in all, everyone was excited… and tired… but mostly excited.

“I think we should call it here,” Tram announced. “Now, materials should be arriving soon. Luka, do you need help?”

“For what?” he asked.

“For creating a new attraction before the park opens.”

Luka hesitated. Now that he had thought about it, nighttime, when the park was closed, was the best time to create new rides. He mentally sighed, Guess my plan to smoke some puff and go to bed early wasn’t to be.

“I need Eve and/or Aunt Sol to help, but I’ll get it done.”

“Good man,” Tram said. “You’ve got till sunrise.”

“Oh!” Luka interjected. “Mrs. Leafsong, are you still here?”

“I am,” a dainty, elegant voice said.

“I have some painting commissions I need done. Are you interested? I willprovide the paint.”

The dryad crossed her long, bark-covered, stick arms. “And what do these paintings contain?”

“Nature, and how the future of the village and the park sits within it.”

She tilted her head to the side, studying the Earthling. “Oil or watercolor?”

“Maybe both?”

The artist nodded.

Tram clapped, summoning everyone’s attention. “Okay! I think this meeting is over! Tomorrow I’m expecting double the guests, just so everyone knows.”

That got everyone’s attention. Soon, as people started exiting, the room devolved back into excited mutterings. As the doors opened and the kids waddled out, a sharp scream echoed against the courthouse’s tall ceilings. Beside Luka, Leo started barking before leaping from his lap and shifting in size.

Luka rushed outside, finding the dire-wolf growling and rapidly shaking his head. Leo was full size, his mighty maw easily engulfing his prey. A mousey human covered in dirt and grime sat within Leo’s frothing teeth, his arms and torso pinned. The man flailed his legs, fervently screeching for his life.

Yet, Luka noticed something strange about the scene. It was as if Leo was missing fur and teeth, or rather, the man was causing his fur and teeth to disappear. But then Leo would thrash, and his teeth and fur would reappear, only for his gums and tongue to disappear.

“Ahhh,” croaked Gr’rok, appearing beside Luka and the rest of the village. “An invisibility cloak. Rare.”

Luka strained his eyes, especially the magical receptors within his vision. Strands connected to the man and Leo, highlighting a section of fabric along the man’s shoulders and draped down his chest. There was something there—and yet not, as if the very fabric wished to hide itself from his vision.

The man, fighting for his life in Leo’s maw, screamed, “Get it away from me! Please! I—”

“Leo!” Luka boomed. The wolf paused; chew toy held firm. “Good boy. But let’s drop him, yeah?”

Leo dropped the man without any niceties, then happily trotted over to his rider, receiving a mass of scratches from every villager he passed.

Mayor Tram pushed through the crowd. “And what do we have here? An invisibility cloak, I see? Strange how these are illegal in these parts. And yet, here you have one.”

The man got to his feet, dusting himself off. The crowd surrounded him, he wasn’t going anywhere. Through clenched teeth, he muttered, “It’s an invisible poncho. Very legal, thank you very much.”

The hunched village elder snorted. “Good one. It’s still illegal, regardless of what shape it’s woven in.” Then, with the subtlety of a headless bat, all jovialness fled from her face. “Who do you work for?”

A raven fluttered through the air when the man failed to answer right away. It landed directly on his head, peering down at him. Then, with an ounce of fear, it whispered, “Answer the question. I didn’t, and they turned me into a raven.”

It was obviously Aunt Sol’s voice, and yet, the man didn’t know that.

Sputtering, he fell to his butt. “D-don’t hurt me!”

Hand against her face, Tram said, “Stop trying to help, Sol. You always go overboard. We just have to peel a few fingernails off—”

“Batty Barns!” the intruder yelped.

Tram smiled like a lioness. “Double B? How’s the kid doing these days? I knew him back when he was ‘Brave’ Barns. But he was just a young one back then. He wanted to be an adventurer if I remember correctly.”

“Y-you know him?” Maybe it was subconscious, maybe it wasn’t, but the man was inching himself away from the mayor and closer to the dire-wolf.

Tram said to Luka, “We may have to budget-in an allowance for security. Spying is one thing, but thieves may already be looking to score here.”

“Who’s this ‘Barns’ guy?” he asked.

“No one you need to concern yourself with. Trust me, Luka, Mr. Double B will be sorry he tried to mess with us.”

With that statement, Tram started giggling.