Chapter 192 - Small Feats

"Those aren't elves, you idiot," the chief yelled at the guard, snatched his scepter—a large branch—and hurled it at him. 

The branch hit the ground with a dull thud, and the guard yelped, stumbling back even though the branch missed him.

Muttering to himself, the guard scurried to hand it back to the chieftain, who had already replaced it with another branch from the pile behind his throne. 

It seemed like the goblin chieftain had made it a habit of throwing his scepters.

The chieftain squinted harder at Vell and Sonder, leaning forward on his rickety wooden throne. "If you're not elves, what are you?"

"Travelers, as I said before," Vell replied, giving another polite bow. "A wandering mage and his apprentice. We come only to learn about your fine village."

The chief tapped the end of his new scepter against his palm, clearly unconvinced. "Mages, huh? Prove it. Do some magic! Real magic! None of that smoke-and-mirrors elf trickery."

Stepping forward, Vell conjured a small orb of radiant light, glowing softly as if holding a piece of the sun itself. 

He gave it to the chieftain, who almost seemed to covet it and slowly reached out with his own hands, before Vell pulled back.

Some goblins gasped, and some whispered among themselves, while a few of the younger ones clapped in excitement.

Vell handed the light orb to Sonder, who herself admired it, though it felt weightless; there was strength in the ball.

The chief grunted, seemingly unimpressed. "Hmph. Looks like elf tricks to me. Do something useful, like... like—" He gestured vaguely at a nearby tree stump, "Make that stump disappear!"

Vell sighed and, with a snap of his fingers and the word, "Eva," the stump vanished, leaving only a hole where it had been. 

The goblins stared, slack-jawed.

The chief blinked, then nodded sagely. "Alright. Not elves. Sorcerers, maybe. But sorcerers I can work with."

He pointed his scepter dramatically at the pair. "We've got a problem, and if you want to stay, you'll help us solve it." 

Vell folded his arms. "And what problem might that be, oh chieftain?"

The goblin chief frowned, lowering his voice. "It's... the water supply."

"The water supply?" Sonder repeated.

The chief nodded gravely. "Yes. The river we draw from has slowed to a trickle. We've tried clearing debris, but it remains stubbornly dry. Without it, our stores will be empty before the next harvest. We need someone who can... fix it."

"So, you want us to restore the river?" Vell clarified. 

The chieftain's tone turned almost pleading. "Yes. Can you do it, great sorcerers?"