The Mayoral War Council
the War Council meeting was held in the conference room at Town Hall.
i stood at the podium, fussing with the laptop on the card table next to me. i had hooked it up to the projector with an HDMI, but for some reason, the connection wouldn't take.
"o Holy Mayor, i just don't understand," said one of my advisors, Stradivarius, from his folding chair in the middle row. "what's your plan for taking out the Goblin Kingdom, exactly? i get that you're going to use the Thermos, and that you're being guided by the righteous will of God and all that. it would just be nice to know the plan, is all."
"agreed," said Rogelio, a member of the Priesthood. "we must make sure the interests of the Church are adequately represented."
"does the Church dare to question the Messiah?" sneered Apocryphina, who represented the Council of Elders. "you of the cloth have gone astray of the ancient way and diverged from the Path of God. soon you will have your reckoning. so saith the Prophet!"
"can someone help me with this?" i asked. "i can't get my laptop to connect to the projector."
"is the projector turned on?" ventured Paprika, the Town Council representative, from the front row.
i looked and saw that it was not.
hiding my utter mortification beneath a brittle veneer of keeping-it-together, i chuckled, and said, "oh, i guess it wasn't. my bad. sorry, everyone."
but no one cared. they were too busy arguing.
"hey! come on, guys. it's meeting time," i said.
begrudgingly, they quieted.
"i made a PowerPoint," i said. "i hope you find it sufficient. it's, uh—well, you'll see what it is."
The Dark Loon couldn't believe his eyes or ears as he shifted eagerly up in the rafters above the meeting, only barely escaping being heard due to all of the squabbling below.
He thinks to himself. Pulundi wants this war? It is his will? What Pulundi wants is genocide!
The Dark Loon cracks a sinister smile from within his darkly colored, moon shaped mask. Pulundi wants genocide? He will get it. A shame really. The Dark Loon was looking forward to tormenting these amigos for a long time to come. Perhaps the boss back home will let him keep some of them alive for that reason? If not they'll taste good in some bear stew at the very least.
Later that night, a loud, hurried knocking is heard at Rodrigo's door...
the knocking did not wake me. it was half past two, but i was still up, ruminating and staring pensively out of the large bay window in my office. the moon was half-full and low in the starry sky, near to setting. despite it's undeniable beauty, the tableau disturbed me. it reminded me of the Choosing, the visions i saw during my brush with death.
the knocking came again, insistent. i felt a chill. i found myself suddenly wishing i wasn't alone.
you are not alone, said the familiar voice of God inside my head, for I and My Holy Power dwell within you.
that was true. however i might be feeling about Pulundi right now, i was still It's vassal, and It's Holy Power would keep me safe.
when the knocking started up for a third time, i opened the door.
At first glance, it is as if no one is there. On the ground however, is a note written in green crayon and broken english.
You sez dis waagh is da soup god's will. Maybe it iz. But don't ya see? You iz denying da will of two ovver gods. And your soup still sucks. Stew is betta!
I is watching ya git! You have made it far too easy.
-Da Dark Loon
P.S.: Turn around and look at ya door. I left ya a suprise.
Written all over the Mayoral Manor's doorway in glowing letters is "I hate soup!" or "Da false soup god HATES you!" and "STEW IS BETTA!"
And in the center, the very same goblin-faced moon sits there, red mold making up it's outline.
A quick movement is seen dashing into the nearby alleyway, followed by the crashing of some debris.
i picked up the note, reading by the soft celestial light of the night sky. when i was finished i turned around and saw the graffiti.
moonlight shone through the fretwork spandrel of the covered porch, dappling the lintel with a row of slanting alabaster beams. the one in the center hit the drawing of the goblin-faced moon like a spotlight. i felt another chill.
i summoned my Captain of the Guard, Esoterica.
"we've been infiltrated," i told her, showing her the graffiti. "probably goblins. they may still be within the city walls. send out search parties—make sure they're thorough."
"at once, Commander Holy Mayor," said Esoterica, moving to obey.
"and when you're done," i said, "come back. i want to talk about those security revisions you suggested earlier. you were right. i didn't listen. i'm sorry about that."
she inclined her head graciously, then turned and hustled off, leaving me alone once again. alone with that horrible moon.
no, not the moon, i reminded myself. a drawing of it. a mere likeness, and not a very good one at that. and yet i could feel evil radiating from the thick, chalky strokes of it's crude outline. and i knew the real thing must be a thousand times worse.
o Lord, i prayed silently. why did you not warn me of the true threat posed by this... moon-entity?
but the Lord said nothing.
another chill gripped me, this one unyielding.
why would Pulundi ignore me at a time like this? unless It was testing me... but, no! this wasn't Pulundi's kind of test. this was something else. i could feel it. my connection to Pulundi was clouded. obfuscated, somehow, in the presence of the drawing.
... hadn't the Dark Loon's note mentioned something about other gods?
the image of the evil moon seemed to pulse in my vision, coming into bursts of sharp focus, seeming almost to grow in size. my knees were getting weak, i realized. i was dizzy.
"Commander Holy Mayor, sir," came the crisp voice of Esoterica as she came trotting back. "i sent out the search parties... are you okay, sir? did something happen?"
"i'm fine," i said, managing to tear my eyes away from the portrait at last. i shook my head. "i'm fine."
"okay... if you say so, sir. did you still want to talk about those security revis—?"
"Rodrigo! hey, Rodrigo! i mean, Holy Mayor! sir!" came a breathless voice, followed by the body of my friend/messenger Matteo as he stumbled into view. "there's an envoy—here, now. at Town Hall. she's here on behalf of... some city. to negotiate an emergency alliance with Ursanuma. here—" he thrust a letter at me. "it's all in there. but no time to read it. let's go!"
Matteo grabbed my arm and started to pull me in the direction of the Town Hall.
"should i come with you, sir?" Esoterica called after me.
"yes—but first," i called back over my shoulder, "find someone to remove that graffiti. but make sure they don't wash it off. i want them to cut out the wood it's drawn on and burn it. all the way down to ashes. especially that moon."
"burn the moon. got it. anything else, sir?"
"no!" i called back, too far away now for her to be able to hear me. but that was fine. she would get the message.
Matteo broke out into an impatient jog. despite my fatigue, i joined him. anything to get me away from that drawing faster.
The Dark Loon's heart raced as he just barely stayed upright after tripping in the alley. Had he been seen? Would he be followed? He whispers under his breath as he ducks into a nearby cellar. "Zog me, I oughta stab da boss for sending me out ta do this. Daft zogger thinks just 'cause 'e has mold magic means I should do whateva 'e says?" It ultimately didn't matter, he had accomplished what the Moldy Hag wanted. The soup prophet had been frightened. He looked at the tunnel he had dug up from above, and slid into it, covering it up with a chair as he did so. "Lads!" he said with a loud whisper. "Take da supports down, we can't let dem know 'ow we made it up here!" Other goblins emerged from the darkness "But boss, won't da tunnel collapse on us?" "Not if yer quick! If ya don't start taking da supports down, I'll take yer legs and throw em in leg stew!" The goblins got to work after that threat due to equal parts fear and awe of their superior, slowly descending into the darkness that felt so much safer.
