For a man who had been stabbed in the back little over two months ago, Archchancellor Velasco looked to be in rather good health. He sat behind his desk, flanked by a pair of armed guards, and listened patiently as Coin finished explaining what had happened in Elbrinth.

He omitted a few details, of course. Like the true nature of himself and Colony, and Scylla's origin. He doubted the witch would know a moment's peace if people knew the truth about her history.

When he finished, Coin sat back quietly and watched the old man.

"You've had quite a busy time of it, Master Coin," said Velasco. "Between running a trading company and managing Elijah DiVenture's estate, it's hard to believe you have time for death defying adventures."

"... I'd avoid them if I could help it."

"Indeed. Unfortunately we live in interesting times. To think, all this time, Lord Bleak was a goblin. Perhaps I should have seen it sooner, but the idea of a goblin controlling a group so massive seemed absurd at the time. That's what he was relying upon, I suppose." He sank in his chair, which creaked faintly beneath him.

Beyond the window Coin could catch glimpses of Sentinel itself. The city was recovering gradually, but scaffolding still covered many buildings. The only comfort was that there had been no major attacks since the Goddess Festival.

Bleak had gone to ground, the best place for most goblins, and Coin did not doubt that his next act would be a violent one.

"The problem with goblins... is that they breed fast, and reach maturity quickly too. With someone guiding them and equipping them, plus their sheer numbers, they can easily compensate for their physical weaknesses. And hand cannons are already a fine equaliser when it comes to skill. A knight can train all his life to be a peerless master of the blade, and it doesn't mean a damn thing when some dirt farmer can blow a hole in his gut from two hundred paces away."

"Yes sir," said Coin. He sat stiffly, trying not to wince under the strange scrutiny of Velasco's eyes. He had been feeding on wildlife outside of Sentinel the past few days to compensate for the biomass Askyr had cost him, and he still didn't feel fully whole.

"Well... I suppose there's not much sense in worrying you about it. You're not one of my soldiers. A shame too, given how reliable you are. And your tendency to get involved in such matters."

"Just tends to happen, I suppose," said Coin.

"And... why do you suppose Bleak took such an interest in a wealthy merchant such as yourself?"

"Ah... I couldn't say. Maybe he wanted to blackmail me for my wealth?"

"Indeed. He did seem to leverage Valle Irons for his wealth and connections." Velasco did not sound too convinced as he said this. The old man glanced to his guards and motioned them to the door. They left without hesitation, well aware that the old man would brook no argument on the matter.

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Once the door was shut, Velasco forced himself to his feet and used a nearby cane to support his weight. "Damn thing," he huffed, slowly making for the window. "They said I would only need it for a short period, but even a single minute of needing it is too much. Let us dispense with the pretences, shall we?"

Coin stood up, raising one brow. "Archchancellor?" he warily asked.

"I know what you are, Master Coin. I've known from the day we met." He turned slightly, lifting a gnarled finger and motioning to his left eye. It had always seemed odd to Coin, the surface area of the pupil a strange mix of silver and lime. He had assumed, at first that it was merely a glass eye. "Enchanted oculus. Had to have my eye replaced years ago. It allows me to see, just as a normal eye would. With the caveat that it allows me to see through... illusions."

Coin stiffened, trying to maintain a calm expression. "Sir?"

"Relax. If I had any issue with your true nature, we would not be speaking together. You have proven yourself trustworthy, mimic or otherwise."

Coin fought the urge to curse. Who didn't know his damn secret by now?

"I know what you are," Velasco repeated, "and it is not an issue. I only ask that... given the nature of things, the risk now facing us, that you do your civic duty and aid me, should more threats come to Sentinel."

"I can't just..." Coin glanced away, "... drop everything. I have a business to run, people who rely on me. I'll stop problems when I see them, but... I'm a merchant, at the end of the day."

"Indeed. A merchant with a propensity to end up in grand battles," Velasco said flatly.

"Not by choice," Coin replied firmly. "But, yeah. This effects me to, and... I don't mind chipping in. But I'd like something from you too."

That got a faint smile from the old man. "Oh?" he asked.

"The kobolds of this city... this kingdom. They don't... deserve to be mistreated like they are. They're good people, and they deserve to be treated like people."

"Do you believe I can simply clap my hands and instantly change the law- Okay, well, I can do that. Obviously. But changing the laws about kobolds is not the problem. The problem stems from people, and their ingrained attitudes." Velasco stared across the breadth of his city. His kingdom. "I hold no ill will to the kobolds. Others, however, disdain them because they have been raised to. It's a generational lesson of animosity."

He pulled his lips into a faint frown. "But... the status quo is not inflexible. The right words in the right places can grease the wheels with the general public. And I suppose the kobolds have more than earned their place among the humans, the gnomes, and the elves. It won't be an instant process, but it can be done."

"Just... like that?" Coin asked.

"Just like that, Master Coin. I owe you great debt, after all, so you may consider us even after this. You and your... partner? I wish you all the happiness in the world, etcetera, etcetera."

And so, from that day forward, Velasco's agents got to work.

And a hundred different agents, in a hundred different pubs across the span of Arcadia, began to chat amongst the people. They looked and acted just like regular patrons, and some of them had been 'regular patrons' for years, laughing and drinking with their kinsmen as they quietly gathered intel in Velasco's name.

They spoke of kobolds, and told tales they had heard from friends of friends. Of the kobolds who had helped to douse the fires in the Spokes. Or of kobolds they knew who had saved travellers in need, or deeds of kindness they had done without seeking rewards or recompense.

And the conversations went on, and the word spread gradually and by degrees in these taverns, and public squares, and everywhere else the common man would gossip and chatter.

People began to say 'Well I suppose kobolds aren't all bad' or 'at least kobolds are better than goblins.' And when sentences like that were spoken aloud people began to ask things like 'well why shouldn't they have homes?' or 'why do they get paid so poorly if they do so much work?'

The business owners would dig in their heels, Velasco knew, continuing to treat the kobolds as little better than slaves. But when the time came he would be able to... convince them to change things. Because they all knew, full well, that it was just better to do what he asked than to risk the consequences of refusal.

It would take time to make meaningful change, as Velasco had said. But the snowball had already started to roll downhill. And such snowballs, once in motion, were impossible to stop by force.

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