Tobias Jeng bowed to an empty tent and pretended it was full. He needed a royal invitation, and he had exactly none. The queen was crowning herself in three days, and she believed magic was a swindle. Tobias could prove her wrong. His steam-powered gauntlets did real magic, though he told every crowd it was tricks. That lie kept him alive. It also kept him out of the one show that mattered. He stripped off his moth-eaten coat and sat on a crate. The palace guards had turned him away twice. No name meant no stage. No stage meant no proof. Something chittered under the crate. Tobias lifted the wood. Six little green hobgoblins blinked up at him. They had sharp ears, wiry arms, and grins full of tiny teeth. One clutched a folded paper against its chest. The rest were tearing another paper into strips and eating it. "Stop," Tobias said. "Give that here." The hobgoblin with the paper hopped onto the crate. It waved the folded sheet like a prize. Tobias saw a broken wax seal. He saw gold ink. He saw a crest he had begged past two gates to reach. An invitation. A real one, stolen from someone. Tobias reached slowly. The hobgoblin darted left. He lunged and missed. The whole cluster shrieked with delight and scattered across the tent, knocking over his props. One swung from a rope. One chewed his hat. He stopped chasing. He knew how to work a crowd, even a crowd of thieves. Tobias raised his brass gauntlet and turned the valve. Steam hissed from the knuckles. A small flame bloomed in his palm, then split into three floating sparks. The hobgoblins froze. Their eyes went wide and hungry. "You want it?" he asked. "Bring me the paper." He let one spark drift toward the leader. The creature crept closer, paper still clutched tight. Tobias held the flame just out of reach. The hobgoblin traded, snatching the spark and dropping the invitation into his hand. Tobias unfolded it. The name inside belonged to a foreign duke. The date was the coronation. The seal was genuine. His heart pounded. This paper could put him on that stage. Then he saw the small print beneath the crest. The duke would arrive to claim his seat in person. If two men held the same invitation, one was a thief. Thieves at a coronation did not leave alive. The hobgoblins settled around the fading spark, watching him. Tobias closed his fist over the paper. He finally had a way through the gate. He also had three days to reach the queen before the real duke did, and no plan for the moment both men stood in the same room.

Tobias slept badly at the roadside inn. The invitation stayed under his shirt, warm against his ribs. He needed it to reach the queen. But the hobgoblins who traded it away had followed his tracks. He woke to scratching at the shutters and knew his three days had grown teeth. He crept downstairs into the empty common room. Firelight from old embers stained the timbers. Six little green shapes waited on the tables. The leader stood on the bar, wiry arms crossed, grin sharp. "Paper," the hobgoblin said. "We sell it now. Better buyer. You give it back." Tobias understood. They had found a richer bidder and wanted their prize returned. If he lost the invitation, he lost the stage, the queen, everything. "You already traded it," Tobias said. "A deal is a deal." The leader hissed. The others fanned out, knocking mugs to the floor. One climbed the wall toward him. Tobias raised his brass gauntlet and turned the valve. Steam hissed from the knuckles. A flame bloomed in his palm. The hobgoblins froze, eyes wide and hungry, exactly as before. But hunger was a tool now. Tobias split the flame into six drifting sparks. "You want sparks?" he asked. "Chase them outside." He flung the sparks through the open door into the night. Five hobgoblins bolted after them, shrieking with delight. Only the leader stayed on the bar, watching him with cold little eyes. "Trick," the leader said. "You buy time." "I buy nothing," Tobias said. "I keep what I paid for." He lunged. The hobgoblin sprang for the door. Tobias slammed it shut with his boot. The creature hit wood and dropped. Before it could rise, Tobias pressed the hot gauntlet close to its face. Steam curled around its ears. "Tell the buyer the paper is gone," Tobias said. "Tell them a man burned it. Then they stop hunting me." The hobgoblin bared its teeth. Outside, its cousins were still leaping after fading sparks. Alone, it saw the math. It nodded once. Tobias opened the door. The leader shot out, gathered its pack, and vanished into the dark. He leaned against the bar and breathed. His hands shook. He had kept the invitation. He had ended the chase. But he had bought that peace with a lie: the paper was burned. And lies traveled. If the hobgoblins told their buyer the invitation was ash, that buyer might mention it to the wrong ears. Word could reach the palace before Tobias did. A burned duke's invitation was still a stolen one. Tobias tucked the paper deeper against his chest and gathered his coat. He had two days now, not three. The road to the queen was open. But he could not simply walk to a gate anymore and hand over a document rumored destroyed. He needed a way inside that no guard would question.