The next day, the Brotherhood of Peace was crammed into the Ferndale town hall with what seemed like half the village. It appears that news had gotten out about the strange boots that would be worn at the council meeting, and everyone wanted to see what would happen.

The council chamber was a big room with benches in rows facing a raised platform where the council members sat. Village Chief Bernard stood at a podium and looked far too happy with himself for someone who might be about to start a political scandal.

"Thank you all for coming today," Bernard said. "Today, we will discuss the village budget, specifically highlighting the differences observed over the past few months."

Three of the five council members moved around uncomfortably in their seats. Bernard pulled out the Boots of Uncomfortable Truth and said, "To make sure that our conversations are completely honest, I'm asking all council members to wear these special boots during the meeting."

"What? Why?" Councilman Davies, a chubby man who was always on edge, asked.

"They're magical boots that make people tell the truth," Bernard said in a friendly way. "Not a bit harmful."

"That sounds very dangerous," said Councilwoman Reed.

"Then you don't have to worry if you plan to be honest," Bernard said. He smiled politely, but there was a glint in his eyes that made it clear he was having a lot more fun than he should have been.

After some complaining, all five members of the council put on the boots. Greg thought that the fact that they fit everyone perfectly was part of the spell.

"Now, then," Bernard said as he opened a ledger. "Let's begin with the fund for fixing the roads."

"These records show that we set aside five hundred gold coins for repairs last month. But only two hundred coins were actually used. Can anyone tell me where the other three hundred went?"

It was quiet for a long time. Then Davies, a member of the council, cleared his throat and said, "There must be an error in the books."

His feet started tapping right away.

"An error in accounting?" Bernard asked in a way that made it sound like he didn't know.

"Yes! Just a simple mistake in the books!" Davies's feet were now doing a complicated shuffle that was pushing his chair back.

"Are you sure?"

"Without a doubt!" The tapping turned into full tap dancing, which made Davies have to stand up to keep up with the more complicated footwork. "It's definitely just a mistake and has nothing to do with the new room I added to my house last month!"

Davies looked horrified when the dancing stopped. "I didn't mean to say that."

People in the room started whispering. Bernard wrote something down in his ledger, his face carefully blank.

"That's interesting. And Councilwoman Reed, you were responsible for the budget for the market festival. It looks like there is a similar difference there."

Reed said firmly, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Her body immediately began what could only be called a dramatic ballet performance, with leaps and arabesques that sent her crashing into the other council members.

"I DIDN'T POCKET ANY MONEY!" she yelled while doing a perfect grand jeté that knocked over a pitcher of water. "AND I DIDN'T MARK UP THE VENDOR FEES BY THREE HUNDRED PERCENT AND KEEP THE DIFFERENCE!"

At the end of the performance, Reed fell asleep in her chair, breathing hard and looking like she wanted to die. Greg watched from the audience with a mix of horror and interest. Marina was laughing so hard she was crying, and Bork was betting on which council member would admit to what next.

For another hour, the meeting went on like this, with some council members admitting their mistakes right away and others being forced to do more and more complicated dance numbers until they did. When it was all over, three council members had resigned in shame, one was offering to pay back everything they'd stolen with interest, and the fifth was being praised for being the only honest one in the group.

"Well," Bernard said, looking pleased. "I believe that was very useful."

"That was a total failure!" Davies wheezed as he slumped in his chair.

Bernard said, "A disaster for corruption, but a victory for honest government."

He walked over to Greg and gave him back the boots. "Thanks, Greg. These are just what we needed these days."

Greg said weakly, "I made them to teach Felix not to lie about his chores."

"And now they've gotten rid of corruption in the government. For many uses! That's good work."

Marina linked her arm through Greg's as they left the town hall. "Look! Your strange things do make the world a better place."

Greg said, "They make the world a more chaotic place."

"Better, more chaotic, it's all the same."

"That's not the same thing at all."

"Let's agree to disagree," Marina said happily.

They were almost back to the workshop when they heard people yelling in the market square. When they got there, they saw a crowd around a well-dressed man who was doing a complicated ballet routine and yelling about tax hikes.

"I RAISED THE TAXES BY THREE HUNDRED PERCENT!" the man yelled while doing a series of fouettés. "AND I KEPT THE EXTRA MONEY FOR ME!"

"I'm sorry, I have a problem with gambling."

"Is that the person who collects taxes?" Bork asked.

Marina said, "That's definitely the tax collector."

"Why is he wearing those boots?" Greg asked. "I just got them back from Bernard!"

They looked down at Greg's hands, which were empty.

"Huh," Marina said. "You must have lost them."

"Or someone else took them," Seraphine said.

Bork said, "Either way, this is the best day ever," as he watched the tax collector act out a dramatic death scene from Swan Lake.

Greg put his hands on his head. "I will never make another thing again."

"You say that every time," Marina said.

"I really mean it this time."

"You say that every time."

"I fucking hate everything."

Marina kissed his cheek and said, "You love it. Come on, let's go save the tax collector before he hurts himself."

"Do we have to?"

"Most likely."

Greg thought about how much harder his life had gotten since he decided to only make peaceful things as he walked toward the still-dancing tax collector, who had now drawn a crowd of villagers asking for their money back. But seeing Marina laugh, hearing Bork smile, and hearing Seraphine talk about the scientific effects of truth-compulsion enchantments made him think that maybe complicated wasn't so bad.

At least no one had died, though. That was a step forward.

The tax collector tried to do a grand jeté and fell into a fruit stand, sending apples flying everywhere. Greg sighed and sped up. Perhaps he could create boots that would protect individuals from harm while they dance to the truth.

No, that was a disastrous idea. He was not making those for sure. Most likely.

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