The Reeve Amidst The Green (20) Legally Binding (First Half)

“I have a question,” said Wanna, putting the plate down in front of Arnuvel.

“Do ask,” said Arnuvel, inspecting his meal. Ah, beefsteak for lunch! And spiced potatoes!

“This isn’t an Arn question,” said Wanna. “It’s a Reeve question.”

“You’ve answered enough Reeve questions,” said Arnuvel, picking up his fork. “I imagine I can answer one or two.”

“If a goblin and a human wanted to get married, the human way,” said Wanna, watching Arnuvel’s reactions, “would you … officiate?”

Arnuvel, who already had a segment of steak in his mouth, suddenly stopped chewing. Wanna flinched. Arnuvel began chewing again, albeit more slowly, and swallowed. “I was rather hoping for another one of those breakfast questions,” he said. “Like when you asked me if pork products went with eggs, because of the ham and the bacon.”

Wanna smiled. “You can forget I asked,” she said. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your lunch.”

“No,” said Arnuvel, taking another bite. “That’s actually not a bad question. It’s one that makes one think.”

“Would there be a problem with it?”

“Me, personally? No. Legally… I am not sure.”

“What does human marriage involve?” said Wanna.

“The binding of two people in a state of personal and legal combined personhood,” quoted Arnuvel from an unseen book, “for purposes of enrichment, legal contract, alliance between families and factions, and procreation, or any of the above; none of them are required to enter a state of marriage.”

“Doesn’t sound much different than goblin marriage,” said Wanna, “except more legal and formal.”

“Pffft. Human everything is legal and formal. Except when it isn’t.”

“So… legally and formally, can a human marry a goblin?”

“An excellent point,” said Arnuvel thoughtfully. “The problem being that there is no legal precedent for it. No human has ever legally and formally married an unhuman.”

“Because we aren’t people,” said Wanna sharply. “And I can point out two examples right here where that’s already happened.”

“Not the same thing,” said Arnuvel. “The Magician’s marriage, and that of Mirk and Megga were never legally certified. They’re what we call “broom jumper marriages.” I am certain that they are most sincere, but not strictly legal. And I never said goblins weren’t people. You, above all others, have convinced me on that score. Not that you were alone in your arguments, but you were the most convincing.”

Wanna wasn’t sure what to say to that, but it felt good to hear. “So goblins are people.”

“I would say so,” said Arnuvel. “Then again, I would say that anything I can argue with is a person, especially if it can outfox me with its arguments. But the Crown’s position on goblins is … nonexistent. Goblins aren’t common in Marzenie, and they tend to avoid humans, therefore there are no laws pertaining to them. And Marzenian law is a quagmire. There is legal precedent stating that Randishmen aren’t people, despite being as human as I am.”

“Goblins are more common to the west and the south,” said Wanna. “You’re going to want to come up with some sort of law about them, and soon.”

“And now you’re starting to understand my position,” said Arnuvel. “You’re perfectly right about that. And as the ranking Crown official here, coming up with policy and law is part of my job. That’s the one Frontier Official’s credo: whatever I can get away with.”

Wanna actually grinned. “Sounds more goblin than ever,” she said. “And what, as far as marriages, can you get away with?”

“I’d feel better if I had legal precedent of some sort to fall back on,” said Arnuvel thoughtfully, eating the last potato chunk. “Without legal precedent, there are lawyers back east who’d poke holes in my ruling just for fun.”

“So humans can get married,” said Wanna, “and what about unhumans?”

“No precedent,” said Arnuvel. “As far as I know, no Marzenian official has ever married two unhumans, or an unhuman and a human. Closest I can think of is when a Marzenian marries a non-citizen; then it becomes a citizenship issue.”

“Has a Marzenian ever married a Randalman?” said Wanna.

“Randishman,” corrected Arnuvel. “It’s happened. Always a bit of a ruckus, because you’re never sure if you’re approving a shiny new Marzenian or admitting a spy. But—” Arnuvel trailed off, staring into space.

“Arn?” said Wanna.

“There are laws still on the books,” said Arnuvel slowly, “that say that Randishmen are not people. We’ve had a few particularly rabid kings who liked to pass rulings that way… and yet, Randishmen can marry Marzenians… there’s precedent for that… and there was an incident in the Fourth Frontier War where a captive Marzenian baron was offered his freedom in exchange for officiating a wedding between two Randish soldiers. He did so, and was freed. And the marriage held up later in court.”

Wanna’s eyebrow rose. “So a Marzenian noble married two people who weren’t legally people? And Marzenians sometimes marry people who aren’t people?”

“Correct,” said Arnuvel. “Therefore, precedent states that Marzenians… or for that matter, anyone who hasn’t been declared legally un-peopleified… can marry… unpeople. And that unpeople can marry unpeople, and that a Marzenian official can legally sanctify the proceedings. And as the ranking Crown official, that puts the decision entirely in my hands.”

“Am I going to have to wait for a decision?”

“I hate to do that to you,” said Arnuvel, “but that’s the OTHER side of my position. Allowing humans to marry goblins, even with precedent, adds weight to the idea that you are, in fact, people. I personally have no problem with that… but when I inform the Crown that I’ve personally declared all goblins to be people… well, that’s going to draw attention. Do we want the Crown getting interested in Refuge, quite so quickly?”

Wanna thought for a moment. “Do you have to … inform the Crown… quite so quickly? I thought you were going to wait six months to a year before filing your next report. With the taxes, didn’t you say?”

Arnuvel opened his mouth, and then closed it again. And then opened it again, and inserted another piece of beefsteak, and said nothing.

“That preliminary report of yours,” Wanna continued, “ran for twenty pages. You said so. How much longer will the full report be? Combined with the new tax … record… thingies… and the economic… thingy… and … the surveying… and … everything else? Long enough that … perhaps… certain details... wouldn’t be noticed?”

Arnuvel swallowed. “You are too clever by half to be a housekeeper, Wanna,” he said. “In fact, if you were taller and not so green, I’d wonder if you weren’t a Randish spy, come to tip my judgment. Have you ever considered a career in law?”

Wanna frowned. “I’d have to learn to read and write to do lawing, wouldn’t I?”

“At this rate, you could be the Goblin Duchess of Oxton,” Arnuvel said jokingly. Then, in a much more serious manner, “I hereby declare that the Marzenian citizens of Refuge and its environs may enter into legal marriage with goblins, at their mutual discretion. Tell whoever these friends of yours are that they may make an appointment at the Town Hall at their convenience to work out a time. And it would seem I have some certificates to draft for delivery to our broom jumpers… I think I’ll dash those off when I get back into the office…”

************************

Lieutenant Constable Fyfe was half of the legal police force of Refuge, and consequently, as low man on the ladder, often had to perform the minor administrative or legal tasks that came his way in the course of policing a town and managing legal matters.

This included the delivery of a legal document to the Magician, this particular day, a task that Fyfe wasn’t looking forward to. He’d never had any business with the Magician, but had heard enough that he didn’t much care to; in particular, he’d heard enough of Barnaby’s stories to hope like hell that the Magician and his goblins never cared to break the law. Because, Fyfe thought, they would certainly find a way to send Fyfe out to do something about it.

Fyfe walked briskly out to the mushroom field. They’d built a gazebo out in the middle of it. Enough people came out here now that apparently the Magicians had wanted a place to sit in the sunshine and conduct business. That was no business of Fyfe’s. Briskly, he walked through the clover up to the gazebo, unpleasantly aware that he was likely being watched somehow, and on the little table in the gazebo, he found a small wooden box. Fyfe placed the rolled up paper with the wax seal and ribbon in the box, turned, and marched briskly away. You are served, thought Fyfe to himself. And now you’re someone else’s problem.

Behind him, Fyfe didn’t notice the rolled up paper fading away into nothingness.

*************************

In an identical box in an identical gazebo, not far away, underground, the rolled up paper appeared again, and Jeeka stepped up into the gazebo, and upon verifying that the fields were inactive, she stepped onto the platform, up to the box, and picked the paper up. Looks official, she thought. Can’t be good news. And with the paper, she went to round up Ben and Tolla to see what was to be done.

*************************

“That was Megga?” said Kalk. He sat in a fairy-iron chair in Megga’s Bakery, having his lunch, as was his habit. The goblin hunter Daran sat at the table, strafing the plate of pigs in blankets between them.

“Sure was,” said Daran. “I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

“I just thought it was fun to see a hot goblin wench I’d never seen before,” said Kalk, sipping his tea. “Megga became a goblin? Seriously? Who saw THAT coming?”

“Oh, come on,” said Daran. “You didn’t believe that nonsense about her being Megga’s cousin from Ponce, did you?”

Kalk had picked up a pig in a blanket and paused, partway to his mouth. “She wasn’t?”

Daran laughed. “There are no goblins in Ponce, Kalk! I mean… didn’t it tip you off when Corda disappeared without notice, and suddenly Megga was back? And she was pregnant?”

Kalk bit his pig in a blanket in half. “I just thought Megga was back from Ponce and was taking over her bakery again,” he said.

Daran kept chuckling. “And then Megga was pregnant, and her baby has pointed ears. And Mirk is happier than ever. And that is how the humans and the goblins make hobgoblins. One of them has to be as the other one is, before the seed can take root.”

Kalk looked thoughtful and ate his pig in a blanket. “At this rate,” he said, “perhaps someday, goblins WILL have human cousins in Ponce.”

*************************

“What is it?” said Tolla. “I can’t make out all that flowery writing.”

“It… does that say marriage certificate, right there?” said Jeeka, pointing.

“It does,” said Ben. The three of them had pulled up chairs around the table in the Burrow’s living room, and were examining the paper. Ben read aloud, “In the town court of Refuge Town, let it be known to all and… I think that’s supposed to be ‘sundry,’ but it’s misspelled… that the human man Ben Harson, the goblin maid Jeeka Before All Others, and the goblin maid Tolla Maker Of Knives are hereby joined in … I’m pretty sure that word is ‘matrimony,’ … in the eyes of the gods and the law of the Crown … blah blah blah, Gods save the King, blah blah blah… and today’s date. Two copies. Signed by the Reeve and two witnesses… but not by us.”

“We’ve been married, technically since… what, not quite two years now?” said Jeeka. “And they’re just now noticing?”

“And we haven’t been ‘maiden’ since well before that, if I’m understanding the word correctly,” said Tolla archly, rocking baby Sutha gently in her arms.

“So what’s this supposed to mean?” said Jeeka.

“Today’s date just means that it was registered today, regardless of when the marriage actually took place,” said Ben. “Although legally, it means that today is our wedding day.”

Tolla thought for a moment and then frowned. “Doesn’t that make our children bastards, by human reckoning?”

Jeeka snorted. “Like that means anything to anyone in here.”

Ben stared at the document. “I’m not much concerned with our children’s legal status,” he said. “What bothers me is that all of a sudden, the law has taken notice of us in a documented, documentable way. Why is that, I wonder?”

“Well, we just now got a reeve,” said Jeeka. “You think he’s just now catching up with the paperwork?”

“And why would he care about the marriage of a crazy hermit and his two goblins?” said Ben. “At least as far as increasing his workload. Did either of you register a marriage in town?”

Both goblin women shook their heads no.

“And I certainly didn’t,” said Ben. “So… what’s this reeve up to? I think perhaps I will drop in on him tomorrow and ask…”

https://www.newgrounds.com/dump/draw/c6cc004edefffde3c8e2a00670305f82

Back to Chapter 19:https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/103arso/the_reeve_amidst_the_green_19_foreign_tongues/

Ahead to the second half of Chapter 20!

https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/1045x2f/the_reeve_amidst_the_green_20_legally_binding/