Rickshaw Hart slammed his gauntleted fist on the table. The other thirty-nine representatives of the various races of Thaldras turned to face him.

  "For too long, we have put up with the fear-mongering tactics of Zorgutt and his gang of foul beasts. They have not earned the right to sit at this honoured table," Rickshaw spat in fury as he rose from his chair. "They have pillaged human villages. They have harmed human families. They have taken the beauty that was once cherished in the Sunwastes. You wish to reward the dwarves for their labour? Fine. But what of their dead? What of the dwarven towns raided, their forges burned, their kin slaughtered by those very creatures sitting at this table? We honour their work, but we turn a blind eye to their suffering. Lord Councillor, these filthy, armoured rats shouldn't be permitted to be held in such high esteem by the council. My people are suffering, all because of one beast and one beast alone." Rickshaw raised his fist and pointed a thick finger across the sparkling table at the goblin sitting opposite him.

  "Sit down!" the Lord Councillor barked. "I have warned you time and time again, Ser Hart. If you continue to blindly insult your fellow members of this council, you will be asked to hand in your Councillor's seal."

  Rickshaw snapped his head to look at Dain Strailmark. He snarled, biting back a retort, and eventually threw himself back into his chair. This took several seconds and only happened after receiving a few convincing stamps to the foot from the female diplomat seated beside him.

  Dain Strailmark looked down at the Council of Trucehold from his elevated seat above the round table, squinting disapprovingly. "I expected more from you people. We have come together today to discuss the rewards allocated to the Dwarves of Ritearn after their valiant efforts in producing machinery to assist in the creation of the new docks on the southwest coast of Titan's Spine. They have worked tirelessly for an entire summer just to provide a stronger trade route between the continents of Titan's Spine and Trucehold." Dain glanced down disapprovingly at Rickshaw. "And you, Ser, have just destroyed all tranquillity within the council today. For that, I am giving you... and I warn you, Hart... this is the last Council notice I am giving you. Any more outbursts like this and I will throw you into the Drath Ocean myself"

  Rickshaw stayed silent this time and shrank back into the glimmering council seat he had just leaped out of.

  "My deepest apologies, Lord Councillor," answered Rickshaw. "I meant no disrespect to the Dwarves of Ritearn."

  "Good. Then we shall move on."

  Dain looked down at his lectern and began to speak.

  cough

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  The Lord Councillor looked up to find Zorgutt on his feet. Dain raised an eyebrow, about to speak, when Zorgutt turned and began to walk slowly around the table towards Rickshaw. Councillors from all races stopped to watch as Zorgutt stepped closer. There was no malice in Zorgutt’s face—only a slight grin could be seen upon his small head. When Zorgutt finally reached Rickshaw, the goblin placed a hand on his shoulder and leant down to whisper one word in his ear. Immediately, Rickshaw's eyes widened and a bead of sweat trickled down his large nose. Zorgutt stood and spun, returning to his seat, leaving Rickshaw's face as pale as fresh snow.

  When Zorgutt finally reached his fellow councillors on the opposite side of the table, he looked up at the Lord Councillor and held up his fat left hand. "Lord Councillor, I am sorry for my interruption. Please do continue. Ser Hart and I were only sharing a little joke between close friends. It appears a goblin can be quite the comedian after all"

  Dain cast his eyes over to Rickshaw’s side of the table, and his lip curled. "Rickshaw. Care to share the funny joke?"

  Rickshaw quickly shook his head. "I can only apologize for any upset I've caused by my... little outburst."

  "Ah. So suddenly, you’ve found self-control? How fortunate."

  "I apologise, Lord Councillor."

  "Perfect. Well then, let's continue where we left off, shall we?"

  Complete silence filled the room following Rickshaw's outburst. Seconds felt like minutes for the humiliated humans sitting to the right of the Lord Councillor. All eyes were on the petrified Rickshaw Hart and his four equally embarrassed compatriots. A snicker rose from the left of the human representatives. The five Gnome representatives, perched atop five purple cushions, giggled as they dipped their eloquently feathered quills into their golden inkpots.

  A high-pitched giggle rose from the only female Gnome representative. "Bad day to be a human today, isn't it?"

  The chamber roared with laughter, even Dain Strailmark allowed himself a wry smile. Meanwhile, the five humans slowly sank into their seats, wishing the ground could swallow them whole.

  "RIght! Okay! That's enough!" shouted Dain, the noise ceased in the council almost immediately. "We must get back to the matter at hand, Rhineas please present the councils decision for reward."

  At Dain's words, a young male elf shot to his feet from around the table. He was a dashingly handsome man, long locks of silver hair fell from a vine wrapped tightly around forehead. He was wearing a blue silk shirt that was half translucent in the warm glow of the chamber, pairing with his pitch-black breeches that hung loosely around his sharp hips. Rhineas' tongue flicked as he began to speak. "By decree of the Council of Trucehold, let it be known: the Dwarves of Ritearn are to receive a year’s bounty from the Drath Ocean, delivered by Trucehold’s finest fisherfolk... and most importantly." Rhineas winked over at the Dwarves sat at the roundtable. "A banquet will be held in five nights in the honour of those involved. We all know how much you love your ale."

  The five dwarves seated around the table held up their goblets and drank. "Too bloody right!" jeered an older Dwarven man seated next to Zorgutt, slapping his companion on the back and causing her to splutter on the goblet of liquid she had just consumed.

  "You crazy bastard! You nearly made me choke" jested the female dwarf sitting next to the male.

  "Perfect!" interjected Dain. "This council is adjourned. And do extend our gratitude to the Merfolk—they’ve ensured we don’t leave thirsty."