Day two came to an end.

With the sun down and dinner in his belly, Luka sifted through scraps of paper, sorting them like stone and gold. He, and most of the villagers, again sat in the courthouse school listening to the mayor. And yet, Luka found her words fleeting, the filled box beside him practically enthralling.

Earlier in the day, he had created a small wooden lock box and placed it near the entrance to the park. Throughout the day, hundreds of guests all passed the box—and a small sign that read “SUGGESTION BOX.” Some left suggestions, others ignored it completely.

“Costs: eighty-one gold, nine silver. Again, most of that was for materials, food, and drink. However—and this is a big ‘however’—the park made seven hundred and thirty-three gold. Which makes our profit…”

Tram trailed off, the room already erupted in cheers and hollers. The park made more money today than yesterday? After spending more money than yesterday? And without charging for its newest flagship attraction? Celebrations were in order, rightfully so.

The ceiling of the courthouse vibrated with cheers, clapping, and stomping. Villagers grabbed one another hand in hand, dancing. They sang from one partner to the next, everyone chanting rhythmically to a song everyone knew by heart.

Luka cracked a grin at the sight, his hands clapping to the beat. Briefly, he looked for Eve. She wasn’t here, not yet.

Why am I looking for her? I know where she is… Did he want to dance with her? Was that it? Luka stowed the thought, resuming his sorting.

Tram waited for the dancing to stop before saying, “After last night’s interruption, I feel the need to hire security earlier than anticipated—especially since there were some six-hundred guests here today.”

She was referring to the invisible man eavesdropping last night. And while her plans were hidden to most of the village, Luka was privy to her and Judge Ben’s thoughts. The problem wasn’t that they didn’t want to hire outside help, the problem was that they had to. There was only a finite number of villagers, and security wasn’t something anyone here was proficient at—even Gr’rok.

“With that being said, any volunteers for the position of head of security?” Tram asked, reviving grumbles from around the room. “It will be strictly managerial. You yourself will not have to interfere with the guests or whatnot. You’d just oversee hiring, scheduling, and payment.”

A meek green hand was raised. An orcish woman, one of the few who wore glasses, slowly stood. Luka recognized her as Ginna. “I can… Who am I to hire?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, go to Sneerhome and make a job listing with the city guard and adventuring guild. If no one bites, we’ll look into other options.”

“I’ll need to interview applicants, right?”

Tram nodded. “Let’s talk about this when the meeting’s over.”

Ginna sat down, looking, frankly, anxious. Luka found her eye and gave her a smile; she froze like a ribblelit in front of the full moon.

“Okay!” Tram said, changing gears. “Let’s continue then. Before Luka speaks, did anyone have any problems they wished to discuss?”

“A kid ran off into the woods,” an orcish man announced. “Franky and Sebby had to look for him.”

Franky stood. “We found him a little ways in. He was fine and thought he was on an adventure.”

Luka glanced up from his sorting. “I’ll put a fence around the park.”

The mayor drummed her fingers on the podium. “Alrighty, then. Franky, did you offer a ‘skip-the-line’ pass to the family of the kid?”

Someone shouted, “SPEED PASSES!”

“Rapid tickets!” another added.

“Walker passes?” a third hesitantly asked.

Apparently, with their inception into this world, a ‘skip-the-line’ pass needed a name—at least according to Luka. And, apparently, the village had taken it upon themselves to think of a name for him.

Tram snapped her fingers. “That one! Who said it?” The same meek orc, now head of security, raised her hand. “Well done, Ginna! Drinks are on the park for you tomorrow.”

Grunts and groans echoed from the room. Ginna practically preened.

Franky cleared his throat. “I did give them a pass. They promptly skipped the line for Rogue Wave.”

“Smart,” “That’s a good line to skip,” “Walker passes hold too much power,” were among the villagers’ commentary on the subject.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Luka?” Tram asked. “Ready?”

The World Walker stood and wrapped around the podium, his stack of paper in his hands. He set them down and collected himself before speaking. “As some of you know, I placed a suggestion box at the front of the park. And while some suggestions—” he tapped the smaller pile “—are useful, most—” he tapped the larger pile, “—were not. All I have to say is no matter the world, teenagers are still teenagers.”

“What do the useless ones say?” asked Franky.

Luka held up the topmost suggestion. “This one just says ‘balls.’” He held up another. “This one also says ‘balls.’”

Franky, like most of the villagers, forced himself not to smile. The World Walker continued, “This one says to make the sky red. This one says something about women I’m not going to read. This one, again, says ‘balls.’ So—”

Various voices whispered throughout the room.

“So,” he said louder, piercing the discussion, “as you can see, this is what we’re dealing with. So, let’s move on to the real suggestions.” He took the first of the pile. “’More food options, especially vegan and vegetarian.’”

“I know a few recipes!” All eyes turned to the corner of the room, where little Ren had leaped to his feet, shouting. Ren quickly added, “Please? Please, Mr. Luka?”

Luka deferred to Tram, who patiently said, “Make a recipe list, and I’ll make sure it gets to the right people.”

Ren’s eyes went as wide as his smile. He dropped to his butt, snatching a colored stick of wax and getting to work.

“Continuing on,” Luka said, “There’s a few about more drink options. This one wants retheming for the WHEEL, teacups, and swing—I’ve got plans for that already, so don’t worry.” He went to the next one. “A better, grander entrance and pathways.” And the next. “This one says, ‘more toilets.’ Again, easy changes.”

Luka paused at the next one. “This one says ‘more space to park my wagon.’ Is that an actual issue?”

Tram answered, “Sort of. People park their wagons by Todd’s bar and inn. The issue is that most of the area is overgrown. I’ll get someone to grab a scythe and start cutting. Past that, we’d need another permit from Sneerhome to clear more trees.”

“Well, okay, keep me in the loop.” Luka went to the next suggestion. “This one asks us not to cut down any trees—”

“I wrote that one,” Mrs. Leafsong, the resident dryad, said.

Tram rolled her eyes. “We’ve talked about this—”

“And I am re-talking about it now.”

Luka quickly asked, “Would replanting what we cut down be fine? Or instead of cutting them down, we excavate and move them elsewhere?”

“The forest will not like either option,” Leafsong said firmly.

“What about—”

“Luka,” Tram interrupted. “Let’s not worry about it for right now. Unless you were planning to cut some trees down?”

“Actually, I might have a good idea. I know it doesn’t quite fit what you, Mrs. Leafsong, are trying to protect, but how about this: briefly, we talked about the idea of a section of the park being themed. How about one dedicated to the conservation of nature? Trees, animals, whatever you need to make the area beautiful and a proper sanctuary.”

“Me?” asked Mrs. Leafsong.

“Sure, you’re the concept artist for World Walker Park, after all. You design the overarching area, and I’ll make sure it is built properly—and with as little destruction to the surrounding forest as possible.”

The dryad didn’t respond and only stared at the man.

Luka sighed internally. “How about this? Start making a list of all the types of plants, trees, and shrubbery you think would look great in the section, even if they are expensive and must be imported. In the meantime, start painting! Come to me with a few different designs, and I’ll give you some notes.”

“What about animals?”

“Them too.”

“How large of an area?”

“You know how big the park is right now? Rides, paths, and open areas?”

“Yes,” replied Leafsong.

“Double that.”

“All for one section?” Her chin made of bark hung open. “That’s very large.”

“Nature’s worth it. What do you say? You like the idea?”

“I do…”

“Great! Let’s talk more outside this meeting. For now, we’ve got more suggestions to go through.” Luka waited a moment before moving on to the next slip of paper. “This one’s talking about souvenirs. They want us to sell something called an ‘artifact.’ Can we make—”

Several groans and scoffs rippled across the room.

“Go on to the next one,” Tram said with a huff.

Luka blinked once. “I feel like I’m missing some context.”

“Artifacts are magically enchanted god-made items. They are usually weapons that warriors use to defend their villages or stationary constructs that bring water to deserts. For someone to suggest World Walker Park sell items of such value is well—” she nodded to the larger pile of rejected suggestions, “—the suggestion should be in that pile.”

“Oh… well, if the gods make them, why don’t we just ask for some? Maybe they’d like to sell them at the park?” Luka received confused, or outright incredulous, stares. “Goddess Tippy stole two of my smashburgers, guys. The least we could do is ask.”

The stares changed to bewilderment.

He sighed and looked up toward the heavens, “Um, Goddess Tippy—or any other gods for that matter—would any of you like to give us some artifacts to sell—”

A hand darted across Luka’s mouth, clamping it closed. “You are not going to blasphemy in this village!” she snapped. “Especially not with the children present.”

Luka looked over, finding all the kids watching with interest—except for Ren, the boy couldn’t care less.

“He doesn’t understand, Tram,” Franky said. Luka quickly nodded.

Tram released her hand. “Such prayers are considered sacrilegious. We need no help nor an artifact to properly run the park! Wasting the goddess’ ear for personal greed when others might actually be in need of her help is a terrible sin.”

Luka held up his hands in surrender. The crowd defrosted. “So, what you’re saying is prayer is okay, so long as it isn’t begging for selfish greed.”

“Pretty much,” Franky said, removing a familiar cigarette case from his pocket. He wavedit at Luka, who understood the gesture instantly. Smoke-up after this?

“Alrighty,” the Earthling said placidly. “Sorry everyone, won’t happen again.”

Someone stood near the back of the courtroom. “What is this about the Goddess stealing your smashburgers? Was that a joke?”

“No—” Luka cringed as he said it. “That was true.”

The stares changed and returned to bewilderment.