The Past Comes to Haunt You

When I connected the dots, something deep in my soul started screaming: ACTIVATE ME.

So, I did.

Never in my wildest imaginations did I expect the damn statue to move.

With a groan, it creaked to life. Stone joints cracked. Dust flew. One by one, every fighter below paused to look up.

Even the Lord’s eyes widened. You should really know more about the town you’re ruling, guy!

I reached out with my hand, and the statue followed. I pointed it square at Collins.

“Wait—!”

Too late, you son of a bitch.

The statue’s massive hand shot forward and grabbed Collins by the neck.

I moved my hand, and the statue mirrored me. I needed to instill fear so that the fighting would stop. I hoped I succeeded.

Unfortunately, while all this was happening another hand was moving that I didn’t control. It was rotating all on its own, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

Rings formed on that hand’s wrists, gold and silver, shimmering in the moonlight.

And from them, magic thread—glowing silver—spilled downward like rope.

It looked like execution rope.

The statue posed with arms outstretched in a slow crucifix motion.

Needless to say, I panicked. It must’ve been working off old orders from the Crystal Elves of old! I hadn’t meant to activate that! “STOP! Don’t hang him!”

Was this what the Crystal Elves were known for?

A statue… just for executions?

But the statue stopped regardless. It obeyed and relaxed the hand that held Collins, dropped like trash onto the hard, cold stone below.

CRACK!!

From the sound of it, he probably broke something. “ARGH!!!!”

“Shit,” one of the other guards whimpered, backing away. “I heard the stories, but…”

He dropped his sword.

“Boys, we’ve been made! RUN!”

And they did. All of them fled like the rats they were.

I was still clinging to the statue, trembling from head to toe from the sheer rush of power I never experienced once in Japan.

I climbed down eventually.

Piper looked scratched up, but fine…

Likewise Uriel. But the lord looked worse for wear, his attire having torn from the fabric.

Meanwhile, Collins was still groaning from the pain. He wouldn’t be groaning for long.

Uriel stepped forward and slammed her foot down on his broken leg.

Collins screamed!

“We are under a strict time limit. So unless you’d like even more pain coming your way, I suggest you answer our questions,” Uriel said coldly.

Collins must have thought that the situation was very funny seeing as he was chuckling to himself deliriously.

“First of all, what is this for? Who’s paying you? The rebels?” Calilah asked.

I honestly forgot that the rebels existed, but that would make sense! Create and sow distrust among every party, target and divert attention from the real plan, which was to recruit more soldiers or use us for their nefarious plans.

“Y-You think we’re getting our coin from those shits across the sea? Or the rebels?” He looked genuinely offended. “Please. They couldn’t afford us.”

“Then why tell us any of this?” I asked.

Collins didn’t even hesitate.

“What else do I have to lose?” His voice turned bitter. “I’m going to be hung for this. And maybe I deserve it. But before that happens, I want the bastards who left me behind to burn.”

He wheezed.

“I dealt with a middleman,” Collins rasped. “Who dealt with another middleman… who also dealt with another middleman. You think you can trace this back? You couldn’t pry the truth from me if you tried—I don’t know who gave me the gold.”

He coughed again and spat blood onto the ground.

“All I know is this: a lot of people, more than you’d think, are interested in the future of East Gate. And I’ve got no clue why.”

Lord Calilah muttered, “The clans in the East Gate Surrounds, perhaps. Could be they’re sowing discord… But why? What do they have to gain from this mess?”

“We’ll have to investigate further later, Calilah,” Uriel urged. “It’s nearly time!”

“R-Right!”

A chill ran down my spine.

Someone powerful was pulling strings from the shadows. The Guild of Thieves… kobold clans…!

And we’d have to go out of East Gate to find them. Which meant adventure, peril, rescue! Like my wildest fantasies are coming to life…

And it’d all have to wait. We had to clean house in East Gate first.

“Crawl away if you want,” I said. “But you won’t get far.”

Already, the commotion had roused the town. Windows cracked open. Faces peeked through doorways.

The moon was nearly full… meaning the royal procession might have already begun.

“Let’s move!” I shouted.

We had a Mother to save.

\\\\\\\\\\\

“About time you showed up. Where’s that classic Posterian timeliness I know so well?”

Duke Volkoz lounged upon his throne, fingers tapping the gilded armrest. By his side was his ever-loyal consort Quansia. The duke and her had only known each other for a few months, but it may as well have been a lifetime from how well the consort understood him… and his needs.

Still, he will indulge in her later.

Tonight was an emergency audience, and he’d been gleefully anticipating it all day… turning the situation over in his mind, savoring the sheer satisfaction it would bring. He even brought along the other nobles in the castle at his insistence as witnesses to this grand occasion!

“Greetings, my Duke,” Martha said, stepping forward with grace and poise. She dipped into a bow, but before she could finish, he waved a hand dismissively.

That threw her way off. “I—I wanted to make myself presentable as much as possible—”

“I trust you know why you’re here?” His voice cut across hers.

Martha straightened slowly. “Yes, milord. I’ve come to submit a plea of protest; and to offer another account on the day’s events.”

“Posteria’s faithful are meant to be saints in mortal form, are they not? Then tell me… why is such a saint blatantly lying to my face?”

Martha’s breath hitched as one of the guards from today’s scuffle at the orphanage stumbled forward, hand clutching an injured arm.

“I have multiple witnesses, all corroborating the same thing,” the King continued. “You’re not suggesting every member of my Guard is corrupt, are you?”

Martha met his gaze evenly. “Render your judgement if you must. I only ask that you exercise your patience. There is more to this than—”

“My patience, Martha, has been thoroughly used up.” The King rose from his seat with slow, theatrical menace. “Today is about rendering justice… a little revenge, if you will, for the sake of my ancestors.”

Martha’s voice softened. “So… this was never truly about today’s events.”

He smiled, teeth gleaming. “Oh, it is. But let’s not pretend Posteria’s Faithful are innocent in the eyes of history. Your Order’s meddling has ruined the reputation of my people. We’ve never recovered since the Crown turned its favour from us… despite us being cut from the same elven cloth.”

He stepped down from the dais.

“And you, dear Martha—you make a fine example of someone who thrived in incompetence for too long!”

“My sweet, this is surely too early to decide,” the consort by his side protested. “It isn’t even time for your advisors to arrive—”

“We both know she’s guilty,” the duke snapped. “If she’s merely incompetent, then Posteria’s Faithful should thank me for delivering mercy. Either way…”

He turned back to Martha.

“…This ends tonight.”

Martha just knew Cotter and his friends had planned something… probably break into the palace or some such nonsense to save her.

But as she heard those footsteps near, it increasingly appeared likely that they would be disappointed.

Perhaps Posteria had a greater purpose for her in all this. But right now, she cannot see it.

Martha closed her eyes and prayed anyway.