“Mister Wemtic, I am sorry for your loss,” Anthony said.
“I don’t need your backhanded platitudes, human. It was your kind that raised up a human emperor. Only de- struction can come of that!”
I thought that they might have had it as a kingdom, but calling himself emperor Emperors are war-wagers. Peo-
ple who call upon the entire human race to work together to take over the world. It seems that people never do learn.
“Do you mind if Tommie and I sit?” Anthony asked. Tommie was rooted to the ground, looking at the device in Wemtic’s hand.
Wemtic seemed at a loss of what to say.
“Thank you.” Anthony took out a seat and sat down, waving for Tommie to join him. Tommie shakily fol- lowed suit, sitting down.
“Now, we know that you blew up the Brilliant Tower of Dark Clouds. The explosive device in your hand kind of gave away that part. What I want to ask is, why?” An- thony leaned forward, resting one arm on the table and holding the chin of his helmet with the other.
“Why! Because of humans!” The man screwed up his face to spit but didn’t in the end.
“What humans?” Anthony pressed more.
“The emperor, the lords and their guards! The army, the system!”
“What is wrong with the system?”
“You think that the humans are so great, think that they’re the race that will rule over Dena! What do you know, you short-lived familiar leeches! You wouldn’t even be a real race if not for you enslaving familiars to do your bidding and carry out your tasks! What did we gnomes do to deserve becoming third-rate citizens in our own cities and towns? We worked with all of the races in the great war. We then built cities and towns with other races, accepted others in, worked and lived with others. But instead of being thankful, what hap- pened? Me and the other gnomes bowed our heads to the humans. They came in with their fake promises and
taxes. We knew they were fake.” Wemtic snarled and shook his head. “We thought that they would get better, that you could be more than speciest assholes who per- secute others due to them being shorter, taller, or having different features. No, you took, took more than we had; then, in greed and callousness, the lord sold our food, the food we had worked for all summer. He sold it for a profit in the winter to a human city. Starved us, left us to rot. When the gnomes ruled, there were tight win- ters and bad summers, but our people didn’t starve. We made sure that there was enough food for us before we gave food to our neighbors. Even in your own people’s time of need, you sold them food!” He slammed his free hand down on the table and shook his head, looking up at Anthony with fire in his eyes. “Did Tommie tell you about my invention? My masterpiece?”
“Your winter growing garden.”
“Yes, my winter growing garden,” Wemtic repeated in a sickly sweet voice. “I was going to give the plans to the city for free, work with them to build winter growing gardens around Laisa and in the towns and cities to the north so people were able to have food in the winter and not worry. My wife knew that I was nearly done; she went with my daughter to go and get some food, something to celebrate the completion of a new project. She went to the market. People will say it was a riot, but I know the truth. The lord knew there wasn’t enough food; he needed to make an example to maintain order and stop the black market for food. So he had his people enter the market, had them start acting out, getting peo- ple riled up. He had guards waiting, who charged in.
“Under the cover of the riot, they killed off the people who were selling food who weren’t under the lord’s com- mand. What was a few gnomes in a human’s plan?” Wemtic laughed, but tears fell down his broken face.
He sat down, looking at the floor, revisiting that day. “I found their broken bodies—the pain in their faces. Tholbe covered little Smubipp with her body, trying to save her. She didn’t let go of the food. She got enough in- gredients together for a little pastry, not even a big one, but just one, single, small pastry.” His eyes were filled with, looking at the ceiling, the loss fresh and terrible. His eyes looked for something before they fell on the painting. His body trembled as those tears fell on his chest.
“A single pastry,” he said, the words like his own mantra.
They didn’t have enough for any more, but they wanted to give him that one small pastry as a congratulations.
Wemtic’s face twisted into something horrible and cold as he looked at Anthony with a sneer on his face and tears running down his cheeks.
“Then they waited till I was at the funeral to ransack my house. Never found the plans—nor will they. For their greed, I vowed I would never give them my plans, that I would stand up for gnomes. I learned from the humans’ tricks, from their greed and backstabbing. They built the water treatment center in the middle of the slums, where all of us lesser races live. They didn’t ask anyone, evict- ing those in the way and building it without consulting
others. Us gnomes knew it was badly built, knew that it was prone to overflowing, that the people around it would get sick. Humans didn’t listen; it wasn’t in their areas anyway. I talked to the goblins, made sure that no one was around, snuck in and blew it up. The plant was shut down. The Brilliant Tower of Dark Clouds in the human area now had everyone’s waste. It overflowed. It only took a few of them getting sick for the humans to pay attention. The goblins have been looked down on by others all the time. The humans started to attack them, started to show their nasty side again. One might not know it, but there are more goblins in Laisa than any other race.
“The goblins are tribal: one tribe is affected, they’re all affected.” Wemtic’s tone changed, to one of mocking. “The humans love order, they love justice and doing the right thing, rah-rah. They like their order, and their jus- tice. The humans put down the gnomes to show their power, to become the masters, but now they’ve poked the goblins. I lost my Tholbe and Smubipp. The humans, with their sneaky ways, will try something with the gob- lins. Though they won’t let it go. An attack against one is an attack against all. They’re willing to go to war with others if they’re attacked without reason. With the hu- mans and the goblins fighting, the gnomes will be the only remaining group. After it all, they can stand up again, can take control over the city and once again make Laisa a place for all races. Even in the end, the hu- mans will benefit.”
“What about you?” Anthony asked.
“Me? Who cares about Wemtic? There will always be a loss and I’m tired.” Wemtic looked at the device in his hand, admiring it.
“If what you say is right, then I should be calling you Wemtic the human,” Anthony said suddenly and sat back in his chair.
“You!” Wemtic’s hand holding onto the device shook in anger.
“You blew up the Brilliant Tower of Dark Clouds. Yes, you took precautions, but do you think that the humans living around the other plant are somehow less than goblins and gnomes?”
“They—”
“Are they the ones who killed your wife and child? Are they the ones who organized the riot? What proof do you have?”
“Proof ! You want proof !” Wemtic stood and moved to a floorboard. He hit it, exposing explosives and papers.
He took them out and tossed them on the table in front of Anthony and Tommie. “There’s your proof, your in- formation!”
Anthony picked up a piece of paper and started reading it, before putting it to the side and then moving on to the next piece.
He read the pages slowly and carefully. They were re- ports and orders from different people. Pieced together, they made a compelling case on the city lord planning the riot.
“Population control and as a lesson to the lower races,” Anthony said aloud as he read a letter from the lord to the count who ruled over the area.
“Seems like it was their plan from the beginning, and al- so used it to make a hefty profit.” Anthony’s voice was calm and calculating, but there was a restlessness in the air around him, a hidden tension in his words.
“Wasn’t y
our plan to create bloodshed to give rise to the gnomes’ strength? Yes, you might be dead, a martyr of some kind, but you would have been the cause of so many others’ deaths. What did the goblins do to you to have their loved ones killed, to be embroiled into a war they didn’t have to fight? You think that this is just a lone town?”
“I—” Wemtic tried to speak, only to be cut off.
“It is under the dominion of the human emperor. If there is a fight, then the city lord will ask for help and the army will come and put down the goblins.”
“You—”
“This lord is malicious and greedy. He could kill the goblins, turn them into slaves. You’re giving him the blade he needs to cut off the goblins and the gnomes and you’re patting yourself on the back.”
“It’s—”
“What would your wife think? Would she celebrate this gnome, this gnome who chose to attack others out of ha- tred, instead of the man who made the winter growing house out of care for his fellow citizen! Destruction brings more destruction, hatred creates hatred, death creates more death. It is only when we have destroyed too much, grown tired of our hatred and killed too many that we turn back in regret. But those actions—those ac- tions cannot be undone!”
Anthony paused but Wemtic didn’t have anything to say. He looked as though he had deflated.
“You stand here—some people’s health has turned for the worse; they might even die. The goblin and human tensions are rising, but they haven’t yet taken actions that couldn’t be undone,” Anthony said.
“What do you know? What do you care?” Wemtic said.
“What do I know? I know that your wife and your daughter wouldn’t want others to die for them, that they wouldn’t want you to die here with hatred in your heart. Why can’t I care? I might be human but that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize, that I don’t feel my heart twist- ing when I hear your story, when I see what they have done to your home.”
“You know nothing.” Wemtic looked to Anthony’s hel- met.
“I know nothing: I know nothing of loss, I know noth- ing of gnomes, I know nothing of life. I haven’t stood beside elves, gnomes, humans, goblins, and beast men. I haven’t put them to rest, said their final rites. Seen their families and have to give them the message that their loved ones aren’t coming back. I haven’t seen that pain in their eyes, that twisting grief that would make the world’s delicacies taste nothing more than gruel and oats. That I haven’t felt it as well, that I haven’t felt re- sponsible for that loss. That I have given orders, or seen my actions lead to the death of others, that I didn’t re- gret those orders and wished I could have changed them, but they were dead already? Are you talking about those things I don’t know?” Anthony’s voice had become harsher, a sense of desolation and hot loss coming through his words.
“That I lost the woman I loved, that I walk this land, not knowing if she is alive or dead? That I don’t want to see another family be torn apart by other’s machinations, that those just living their lives have to suffer as you have. I am breathing and I want to ask you, Wemtic, when did you stop? When did death become the only solu- tion, only violence? Instead of creating change, peaceful change, you push forward with destruction. You can be saved still, but not for much longer. The city lord, his guards and the count—they will be punished. I will vow that to you—I vow that on my sword, I vow it on my bones and on my familiars.”
Red, black, brown, white, and gold markings showed through his armor, sealing his oath.
“A familiar oath—five familiars?” Wemtic whispered. Tommie looked at Anthony with new eyes.
“If you know what a familiar oath is, you know what it signifies. Once bound to a familiar, no human can lie to their familiar. An oath with a familiar binds a person completely.”
“How?” Wemtic grit his teeth, as if angry for asking the word.
“Now you’re asking the right questions. We have a trial, a Guardian trial. We try the city lord, the guards, and you.”
“You just want to arrest me, hide me away, kill me! You don’t mean it!”
“And you don’t want to kill people. You don’t even want to kill us. You could have just used that device but you talked to us; you’ve answered my questions. You’ve told me your convictions. You aren’t a bad man, just an angry and misguided one,” Anthony said.
Power seeped into the room, gathering around Anthony in a mist, covering the table he was sitting at and the chair he was sitting on.
The mist extended, creating a high backed chair made of shifting mists while the table in front of him turned into a desk. Looking at him, one would feel as though they were looking upward.
Six more chairs appeared beside Anthony.
Mist-formed people sat at their own tables: a gnome, a hobgoblin, a beast man, an elf, an elemental, and a dwarf.
Their features weren’t distinct but each of them wore a shield on their breast. It was purple with purple details. An eye rested in its center, the iris milky as if blind.
A box appeared around Wemtic.
“I’ll use it!” he yelled, holding the device.
The mist swarmed around his hand and the device turned into dust.
A hammer appeared in Anthony’s hand and he struck it on the table. “Wemtic stands accused of terrorism in an attempt to incite anarchy,” Anthony said. “Wemtic, how do you plead?”
“Guilty.” Wemtic then looked at himself, confused as to where the words came from.
“The Guardian’s Judgement was created by all races and made with the powers of all. No one can lie when under a Guardian’s Judgement.”
“This gnome forgot how to build and turned to destruc- tion,” the gnome in the chair said irritably.
Anthony looked at him as the gnome tugged on his beard, irritated but remaining silent.
Tommie looked at it all with wide eyes.
“Since he has pled guilty to the charges, what will his sentence be?” Anthony asked.
Anthony listened to the voices. Tommie and Anthony didn’t say anything as the beast man stood up.
“By Guardian’s Judgement, you will fix what you have broken. You will design and repair a new water treat- ment system. You will repair this house and you will see your wife and daughter’s grave every week, and visit the market at least once a week and make five new friends in three years who are hobgoblin or human. You will make a public letter of apology and apologize to the families harmed by your actions.” The beast man looked down at Wemtic. “You have gone through a terrible ordeal that will be righted, but striking out against your neighbors to create more issues instead of solving them was a grave error.”
The gnome sitting up front let out a displeased humph.
Mist wrapped around Wemtic’s arms. Gray and purple braided lines appeared on his wrists as the mist faded away.
“This is your punishment. This is the Guardian’s Judge- ment.”
“Your life is not over, young one. Look to try to help others so this will never happen again. Stand up for those weaker, those younger and live a good life,” the elf said.
“Build, don’t destroy! You’re a gnome—use your mind. Don’t sell to the city lord; sell to the elves, sell to the businessmen! More food, no matter where it comes from, is better!” the gnome said.
“Guardian?” The beast man looked at Anthony. The rest of them looked as well.
“Oh, what is it now?” Anthony said, ruining the profes- sional atmosphere.
“Why did it have to be him?”
The elemental sighed, while the dwarf snorted and the hobgoblin giggled. The beast man hid a smirk and the elf looked at him from down the table while holding her head sideways.
“Go east to Ilsal. Dena needs the Guardians again,” he said.
“But what about the—”
“You still need your memories and you can get them there,” the elemental said.
“Message us when you need it,” the gnome said.
“I feel it will be sooner rather than
later,” the dwarf said.
A hammer noise sounded out as the mist receded and the courtroom faded away.
“East, Ilsal? Come on!” Anthony waved his hammer but it was already disappearing. “I have the hammer! You can’t just hammer yourselves off on the judgement!”
They had all left now, with only Tommie and Wemtic in the room, who looked at his wrists to see the purple braids around them.
“Riddles with that lot—so complicated!” Anthony said. Tommie looked at Wemtic and then back at Anthony.
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