A messenger sprite landed atop the pile of papers, it’s faint pink glow literally highlighting the daunting workload in front of her. “Feista Hrurk?”

“I’m busy,” snapped the Gnoll.

“Message from Asherzu Guz’Varda.”

Feista carefully recalibrated her demeanor. “Yes?”

The sprite began to speak with the deliberate cadence that Asherzu reserved for ceremonies or important meetings. “Feista, I know that you have much work, but honor me with your opinion on J.P. Gorgon’s liquidity versus its holdings in the dragon’s hoard. I must have this by sundown.”

“Spug! Thrice curse Grund’s cudgel!” swore Feista. “She probably had someone from J.P. Gorgon in the room with her when she sent that!” She brushed the report away and turned to the Wood Gnomes. “New report! Put these on hold!” she said.

A loud groan went up from the Wood Gnomes.

“Ah, but Mrs. Hrurk…” Aubren still hovered by the desk.

Feista felt her hackles rising. “Aubren, I can appreciate your challenges, but you cannot come all the way to my office every time⁠—!”

“I know, but it came!” Aubren shoved a large envelope into her employer’s paws. “The letter finally came!”

Feista felt the weight of the thick envelope, transfixed by its seal. The red wax bore a sword crossing a falling fireball, the seal of the Heroes’ Guild.

White Rat scampered up on her desk to see what distraction could cause every other shred of paperwork to be so forgotten. The Wood Gnome apparently recognized the significance of the envelope, because she shooed Feista and Aubren from the room with reassuring squeaks.

“I… uh… I need to go home,” she told one of the clerks.

“Now?” asked the Goblin.

“The letter,” said Aubren.

“Oh! Go! I shall tell Lady Asherzu, and we will get the numbers to her!” cried the accountant.

Feista walked home as if in a trance, guided gently by Aubren’s steering hands. The girl took the Gnoll to her own apartment near the top floor of Mrs. Hrurk’s Home for the Underprivileged, then left her alone with the most anticipated and dreaded letter of her life.

Mrs. Hrurk sat down at her table, opened the letter, and began to read.

To Feista Hrurk,

NPC #SKGN12838432

We have reviewed the file for the encounter between Kriss Rodgerson, Hero License #920911960; Moxie Glum, Hero License #369741082; James Greensleeves, Hero License #885027606; and Drif Matuk, Hero License #900272314, operating under the party designation of the “Fearless Four,” hereafter “the heroes” and Hristo Hrurk, NPC #SKGN12838431, hereafter “the F.O.E.,” on the 6th of Tandos, 7.373.

There was no quest contracted for slaying the F.O.E., and the F.O.E.’s NPC papers were in good standing prior to the 6th of Tandos. However, the heroes engaged the F.O.E. under random encounter protocols after they witnessed the F.O.E. committing criminal activity, pursuant to HG4.23.1b. The F.O.E. did not dispute violating Andarun’s civil foot traffic code ACS2.455.223, subsection b, unlawful crossing of a public road without use of specified crossing, also known as “jaywalking.” The F.O.E.’s noncombatant papers were revoked for disregarding the law, pursuant to HG4.23.1f. Civic traffic codes are for everyone’s safety.

Your appeal contended that the F.O.E.’s summary execution upon losing his NPC papers was undue and that the F.O.E. did not pose a threat to the heroes. However, guild law leaves discretion to heroes to determine what does or does not constitute a threat. Hundreds of professional heroes are killed every year—sometimes by Gnolls—and heroes in the field must make life-and-death decisions in a split second to survive.

This review finds that the heroes acted appropriately and in accordance with guild law, as well as applicable laws of Andarun and the Freedlands. The loot from the random encounter amounted to one (1) tunic, one (1) pair of Gnoll breeches, one (1) loaf of bread, three (3) tea cakes (lemon), and one (1) satchel containing sundries and coin worth three (3) shillings, nine (9) cents. The loot was divided between the heroes and the guild pursuant to HG4.23.2c.

You have now exhausted your civic appeal. This decision cannot be further appealed without written approval from a master of the Heroes’ Guild. Please remember that repeated requests without proper paperwork can be considered harassment of guild personnel, punishable by revocation of your NPC papers under HG4.23.1d.

We wish you well in your future endeavors.

Taness Tenderfoot

Senior Arbiter, Internal Arbitration

Fat tears splashed on the heavy parchment. Every detail of the letter cut through Feista like a hot knife, and memories poured through the wounds. Hristo always brought tea cakes home to the pups, no matter how tight money got. She’d argued about that with him, but she could never stay mad at a father for doting on his litter like that. She remembered the crazy futures he’d dream up for their children, and the random laughter that erupted from him whenever they came running to him.

The sight of his body seared across her mind, broken and charred by weapons designed to slice and scorch steel armor or drake scales. The pups hadn’t spoken for weeks after they buried him. She remembered the nights weeping to herself in dark alleyways.

And now she was here, living a future too wild for even Hristo to dream up, a leader at a thriving bank and a proprietress of a charity, living with more money than he’d ever made. All without him; he’d never see the marvels his children would, never watch them grow, because the guild had reduced him to a footnote in some Lightling’s paperwork. The guilt and the sorrow crushed her, and the only breaths she could manage were choking sobs.

Aubren must have heard her, because someone sent the pups in to check on her. They said nothing, but crawled into her lap and held her tight. She squeezed them back and wept into their soft fur.

Much later, after there were no tears left to cry and the pups had gone to bed, Feista sat in the kitchen while Aubren stewed over a simmering pot.

“It’s a travesty! It’s disgusting!” The Human waved a gravy-laden spoon at Feista. “You should find a guildmaster and demand he approve another appeal!”

“It’s not like that.” Feista sighed into her mug of tea. “I can’t just go up and make demands.”

“Well, I would!” said Aubren. “I’d give him a piece of my mind while I was at it.”

“You could, but that doesn’t mean I can,” said Feista. “You’re a pretty young Human. You could call him names while you’re at it, and nobody would strip you of your papers and kill you in the streets for doing it. But a Gnoll?” She shook her head. “I won’t have the pups orphaned.”

“Surely they wouldn’t—” Aubren caught herself and pursed her lips in thought. “Well, they shouldn’t.”

“They shouldn’t,” agreed Feista gently.

Aubren ladled out some thick stew for the Gnoll. “So… what happens now? And how can I help?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Mrs. Hrurk. “It will take a lot of planning to get an approval for an appeal, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to find the time. And I’m just so… so tired of it all.”

“Yeah, but… but we can’t let those heroes just get away with it, right?” The girl put the bowl in front of Feista.

“It’s not just the heroes.” Feista stared into her bowl and stirred up the steam. “It’s just… the way you have to deal with Lightlings. With the guild, at the bank, on the Wall, in the thrice-cursed restaurants. We can’t just say what we mean, what’s true. We have to be so… so careful around Lightlings, we have to work so hard to not hurt their feelings; to not do anything that they could find fault with.

“And the whole time, we have to listen to them complain that we’re… that we’re here! That we’re out of place, not down in some dungeon where they think we belong. We get the rude comments, the cold shoulders, the jokes about our appearance, the mockery of our culture—my grandfathers’ heirlooms on a restaurant wall! And our families… my Hristo… killed!

“But we’re the ones who have to look past all that, for the sake of peace and our lives. We have to put on a smile, and forgive everything we endure, and look past all these insults, and then we still have to treat Lightlings with such careful respect. It’s exhausting, carrying that much. I don’t know if I can do it again. Hristo forgive me, even for him.”

She set her spoon down and gave a sidelong glance at Aubren. The girl’s face was a portrait of pained consternation. “But… but we’re not all like that, right?” asked the Human. “I mean, I’m not like that.”

Feista suppressed a sigh that might have come out a scream. The girl meant well, even if she didn’t—couldn’t—recognize the way she had seized Feista’s anguish and used it as a mirror. And so the Gnoll smiled, and forgave the girl, and looked past the insult. “No, you’ve been a good friend to me,” she said, patting Aubren’s hand as she delivered the absolution. “Thank you for the stew.”

Aubren beamed. “I’ll get you some bread,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Feista. She didn’t let her smile fade into a long sigh until the Human was out of earshot, lest she offend her again. Sometimes the most earnest among them could be the most easily offended, and it was always best to handle Lightlings delicately.