“I think that went well.”

“You’re back!” Gnom yelled, hugging Voolio’s arm. “Hob, Gob, look! He’s back!”

“Just what I needed to spoil the moment. Thanks, pal.” And Gob was even less impressed than Hob, judging by the look on his face.

“You need a rundown?” Gnom asked, sliding his pipe back onto his back.

“Of what?”

“Of the case, dude.”

“No, I’m alright. I saw it already.” Those around them made themselves stood, but Gnom sat in his confusion.

“Whaddaya mean?” he asked.

“I was helping up top.” Voolio began to stand.

“Helping?” Gnom asked, jumping up onto his shoulder and motioning the goblins to join him. “What does that mean?”

“Yeah! What does he mean, helping?” Hob asked, trying to mount the opposite shoulder while balancing on Gob’s head.

“Well,” Voolio said, reaching out a hand for poor Gob ‘Stepping Stool’ Hoblin. “I was helping Dylk out.”

“That doesn’t help me at all, Voolio.”

“No, it did,” Voolio said. “We would’ve lost if I didn’t.”

“I’ve never been so confused in my life.” The doorframe nearly took his head off as they passed.

“I’ll tell you what’s confusing, little guy,” Voolio said. “The lawyer guy doesn’t have a lisp when he thinks.”

“Huh, I never thought about that,” Gnom said. To be fair to him, it’s not the sort of thing you spend your time ruminating over when someone of Hardis’ vocal style is speaking. “I thought you were gonna say something about the hallway. It’s not as long as it was before.. wait, what did you say?”

“The lawyer?”

“Mhm.”

“Y’know, the other one?”

“Yep.”

“The one with the lisp.”

“The one with the lisp, I remember him.”

“Well, he doesn’t have it when he thinks.”

“Oh, ok. What?”

“It’s simple, short stuff,” Hob said, leaning behind Voolio’s head. “The guy doesn’t think with a lisp.”

“What are you guys talking about?” It was Ballin, looking about as well put together as usual.

“Oh, I was just telling everyone about-”

“Can we talk about something else?” Gnom asked. They were at the end of the hall.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Ballin asked.

“Well, where’d Tunk go?” Gnom asked. The last time he’d seen the guy was in the courtroom, shackled down by eight guards he wished all the luck in the world to.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Ballin said. “I bet he’ll be right behind us looking for Chuck.”

“Let’s talk about Milo Magic!” Vix said. Gnom had stopped trying to keep track of everyone who was or wasn’t in the hallway.

“Who’s Milo Magic?”

“He’s a magici- hi, Dolores!”

“Hi, dear!” Dolores waved to Vix and smiled.

“He’s a magician,” Vix said, continuing. “He showed me a trick in our cell.” They walked out the door of the jail, the city air filling Gnom’s chest like tar.

“A trick?” he asked, looking back at him. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? This Milo dude?”

“No, he was nice. Dylk, tell them about mister Magic!” Gnom turned to see Dylk waddling alongside Ballin and Vix, sweating and baring a face that matched his hair. He said:

“He seems harmless,” between gasps.

“See?” Vix said. “He’s great!”

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to talk to strangers, Vix?” Ballin asked.

“Erm, talking to strangers is the only reason we’re here right now,” Gnom said, looking around at his dear friends and feeling slightly offended.

“To be fair,” Dylk said, “we did just leave jail, where we almost died as a direct result of meeting each other.”

“For like the third time, too,” Voolio said.

“Yeah, we can’t forget the dragon incident,” Ballin said.

“The dragon was a good one,” Dylk said.

“And before that? When I did die? Anyone remember that?”

“I do, Bauwls,”’ Vix said, hanging his head in a big way. “Sorry I killed you.” Gnom felt a stone drop in his belly for the guy. Bauwls, however, looked simply flabbergasted.

“Sorry? What would you be sorry about?”

“For killing you, idiot,” Gnom said, confused for a different reason.

“But that was the only thing that saved us from those heathens on the island!”

“No, it was that lightning strike, I think,” Voolio said.

“No, no, it was Slinky,” Vix said.

“Slinky?” Gnom asked. “Like the Bring Me the Bugs song?”

“Who has Slinky?” Vix asked, ignoring him completely.

“Oh, yeah.” Bauwls reached under her cloak and pulled out the rat in question, who shook a fist at her. “Slinky is a big fan of Moosa, aren’t you? Aren’t you? Ow!” Bauwls had tried to press a red finger into the top of the rat’s head but got a bite instead.

“Slinky says, in no uncertain terms, that there will be no petting of any form,” Ballin said after a storm of angry squeaks.

“If you weren’t one of Moosa’s beautiful creations,” Bauwls said, staring the rodent in her palm down, “I would put you in my pocket and never open it again.” In response, she got a small middle finger - or as close to the middle of four fingers as you can get - and another handful of squeaks.

“What’d Slinky say that time, Ballin?” Gnom asked.

“I don’t think I can say that,” he said, eyes wide.

“Ok, I’m sorry, rat,” Bauwls said. “Can we be friends now?” Slinky gave a reluctant nod and scurried back into the cloak.

“What a great rat,” Vix said under his breath.

“Gnom?”

“Yeah, Voolio?”

“What’s that smell?” Voolio sniffed around the open air and Gnom followed suit. It was the smell of a punch in the nose. The smell of rotten fish. That was because, by some strange force Gnom couldn’t get his head around, they were already at the market.

Polka music was being played loud and proud, as if to balance out the nefarious scent on the air. It sounded to Gnom’s ear like Bring Me the Bugs, but something was different about it. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Gnom couldn’t see the source, but it sounded like a recording rather than a performance, unfortunately.

“Ah, perfect!” The bets guy, what was his name? Bandage? Bandage came to life at the sight of the food around them. “We shall have a feast! Now, what are we out of? I suppose we’re out of bread and fruits, aren’t we?” He crossed his arms in mock disappointment at Bauwls and Voolio. “And we need fresh protein. Any will do, take your picks of the meat market. And get lots!” he said, walking in the general direction of the house.

The group stood looking around at each other. He didn’t know what the rest were thinking, but Gnom was trying to remember what proteins were. To his and everyone’s relief, Salman stepped forward.

“Friends, there’s only one thing to do. My adoptive father once taught me that it is far more effective to divide your efforts. Seeing my surroundings,” he said, eyeing each member of the group, “I begin to doubt his wisdom. Nevertheless, we will follow it. Sir sabran, lead our half-elf and goblin companions to the bread, taking care not to let them too far out of sight. I will take mister Realus, miss Bauwls, and sir Balder to the hunters and fishermen, as far from the fruit and bread as I am able. And that leaves… masters Willum and Orcman to fetch the fruits. I trust you two can manage without supervision?”

“I won’t promise anything,” Gnom said, “he’s a rowdy one!” He jumped off of Voolio and elbowed Dylk in the side. Salman sighed.

“Very well.”

Soon, Dylk and Gnom were on their own and heading to the fruit section. That is to say: Soon, Dylk and Gnom were on their own and lost beyond words.

“Gnom, I don’t know how to say this, but we’ve seen that stack of cucumbers at least five times.”

“No, that’s impossible. We’ve been walking the same way for two hours.”

“It’s been five minutes. When’s the last time you slept?”

“At the cult hangout, I guess.” A few concerned passersby stuck an out eye at him. “Hey, cucumbers are fruits anyway, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re fruit, dude.” Gnom spotted a cloaked figure in a nearby line. “Excuse me?” They didn’t respond. Gnom tapped the back of the cloak and tried again. “Excuse me?”

“Oh! Yeah?” The figure had their face hidden under a huge, pointed hood.

“What’s your opinion on cucumbers?” Gnom asked. Dylk groaned.

“I like cucumbers,” the figure said. “I think cucumbers are really great!”

“No, I mean, do you think they’re fruit?”

“Oh, huh. Good question. Well, what’s a fruit?”

“You don’t know what a fruit is?”

“No! Yes! I do! What I’m asking is what makes a fruit a fruit? They have to be sweet, right?”

“I guess so,” Gnom said. “No, wait! Peppers! Peppers are fruit, right?”

“Are they?” the figure asked.

“Dylk, peppers are fruit, right?”

“Don’t try to drag me into this, you moron.”

“You had fruit in halfling land, right?” Gnom asked.

“So you are a halfling!” The figure’s voice was so surprised that the Gnom thought the cloak would blast right off their body.

“I’m a halfling, yeah. And yes, we had fruits, if you can wrap your head around that. Now, I’m sorry we wasted your time, sir, but we should get going.”

“Wait a second, guys,” they said, raising a paw. “Could I ask for some advice?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, so, if you were in a ban- a… group of people… and you left that group… of people… and got successful after, would you feel bad? I mean, if they weren’t successful after you left. Would you rejoin the band? The group?”

“Sure, why not?” Gnom said. “Our group has helped me so much I wouldn’t know what to do on my own. I would be totally lost and stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I feel like that, too,” the figure said.

“You don’t have an obligation or anything,” Dylk said, “but if you feel so bad about it then, like Gnom said, why not?”

“It’s not that I…” He sighed. “You’re right. Thank you, guys. What were your names? Gnom?”

“Orcman.”

“And Dylk Willum.”

“Gnom, Dylk. I’ll remember that. What’s the name of your group?”

“We don’t have a name yet,” Gnom said.

“Alright, I’ll look out for a nameless group featuring Gnom Orcman and Dylk Willum if we ever need an opener. Have a good one, guys!”

“Oh, one more thing,” Gnom said.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s the fruit section?”

Gnom and Dylk walked through the mansion doors, pulling a wagon full of every kind of fruit you can imagine. From what Gnom could hear over the squeaky wheels, they were the last to arrive. They hauled the thing as quickly as they could to the kitchen, hands slipping and sliding from the sweat. Gnom could smell something good cooking, even from the foyer. Voolio was the first to spot them:

“Look who’s here, everyone!” Cheers rang out from the table. “I’ll take that, little fellas.” He took the handle from Gnom and tried to pull it. He heaved and he ho’d but it was for naught; it wouldn’t budge. “Alright,” he said, huffing and puffing, “you take it from here, Gnom. Fruit cart coming through!”

The table was full of people but empty of any food save for some exceptionally large loaves of bread, so the mountain of exotic munchables must’ve been a welcome sight. Gnom, Voolio, and Dylk sat at the empty end of the bench opposite Balder and Salman. They each took an armful of jamberries and yonanas and passed them down, though the passing was much more literal for some than others. Gulped is probably more appropriate to what Balder was doing, at least.

“Calm down, Balder,” Gnom said, “you won’t have room left for the proteins!”

“I will,” Balder said, absolutely crushing another bunch of grapefruits⁹.

“Ok, ok. Voolio, what’d you get with Salman?”

“No, salmon,” Voolio said. “We got salmon and a pink one. No, that was the salmon. We got salmon and elk and… some crazy looking insect things.”

“Insect things?”

“Yeah, we got like 15 of ‘em. They’re only about this long, though.” Voolio separated his fingers with a length taller than Gnom, who felt his stomach turn inside out.

“That’s good. That sounds nice, Voolio. Uh, Balder?”

“Hi!”

“Who’s that?”

“Grockie!”

“Grockie?” There was a small creature sitting next to Balder, holding a mug of something frothy.

“I am Grockenstein, the wise and powerful!” Gnom looked around the table.

“Does anyone else see this thing? Am I going crazy with Balder right now?”

“He’s been here a while. He’s cool,” Ballin said from the other side of the table.

“He’s an elf too!” Vix said.

“I am extremely cool, gnome!” Grockenstein said. “And wise. And powerful.”

“He’s a triple threat!” Ballin said, laughing.

“Indeed! A grave threat upon three fronts!” The little creature teleported onto the table in front of Gnom and held up three scrawny fingers.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taller? I mean, nothing against you or anything, look at me.” Gnom stood up on the bench but it almost didn’t make a difference.

“Foolish gnome! You know not the lore of Grockenstein! But fear not! You will have plenty of time to learn. Yes, indeed.”

“Why’s that? Guys? Why is that?”

“Grockie’s staying!” Balder said, smiling.

“Grockie’s staying?”

“He’s cool, Gnom, he’s cool,” Ballin said.

“Yeah, I kinda like him,” Dylk said, putting up three of his own fingers.

“Yes, yes! My worldly charms are overpowering you all! Your friends have already fallen to it, gnome! Now, what say you?”

Gnom looked at Salman. Salman nodded.

“That’s cool,” Gnom said. “Wanna yonana?”

“Mm, yes, a most succulent yonana. Give it here, gnome.” Grockenstein levitated the blue¹⁰ fruit above the table and, after peeling it with his mind or something, ate it slowly with sips of his yet nameless beverage. Nameless, Gnom thought.

“Main course coming up, everybody!” Bandage came out from behind the kitchen-dining room divider carrying three massive trays. Each held a different entree as described by mister Realus. He set them down at the end of the table with an ease born of great tension. “Grockie, do the honors!” Then, the food shot up in the air and fluttered onto everyone’s plates like feathers. The proteins came down one at a time in 2 second increments:

First was a piece of Salman - of salmon. And second, the elk, cooked perfectly. Third, much to Gnom’s horror, was exactly was Voolio had described. A bright red, steaming, giant insect. Gnom poked it with his knife.

“What did you call these things again, Voolio?”

“They are called crawdads here, I believe,” Salman said.

“Crawdads. What a thing to call it,” Gnom said, looking into its weird little eyes. “Are you supposed to eat it? Like, eat eat it?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Voolio said. “Hey, this one kinda looks like you, Gnom.” He lifted it up to show him."

“But, mine looks like you, Voolio!”

“Hey, it actually does!” Voolio said, laughing. Gnom’s mind clicked.

“I think I just thought of a name for us.”

(Footnote 9: The grapefruit is a humble little fruit no bigger than the average goblin eyeball. Found in various colors, including green, purple, and the weird dark purple ones no one can find, they resemble grapes in most quantifiable ways. They are, however, not grapes. Don’t even think about mixing the two up, it’ll be the last thing you ever do. The fan war is both ridiculous and deadly.

Footnote 10: What, you didn’t know yonanas are blue?)