The Statue's Secret Captive (1)

Du Chen nodded, a performative sigh of “regret” escaping him, confirming Norton's guess.

“It was only *after* our rather… spirited encounter that I understood this was all a terrible misunderstanding. Headmaster Zigurd would never stoop to such sordid acts! Uncle Norton, is the Headmaster still present? I believe it’s imperative we offer our sincerest apologies to him in person.”

Steve chimed in, “Indeed, we absolutely must apologize to him face-to-face!”

“Young Master Steve, you weren’t the one who verbally assailed His Eminence Zigurd until he coughed up blood…” Norton clucked his tongue, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Very well, Headmaster Zigurd is still within. Follow me.”

Francis truly lived up to his infamous reputation as “the Third Idiot Scion of Saint John City.” Only he, it seemed, was capable of such a breathtakingly “idiotic” stunt!

Students cursing their headmasters wasn’t unheard of, but to do so with such unyielding self-righteousness, such a lofty sense of moral high ground, even provoking the esteemed man to cough up blood – and then, *after* the fact, to remain so utterly unfazed and still so confoundingly justified in their actions! Francis was certainly the first, and undoubtedly, he would be the last.

*Sigh*. An idiot’s blunders should be his own burden to bear. Why drag Young Master Steve into such a mess? Yet, knowing Young Master Steve’s principled nature, he would never simply stand by.

If Young Master Steve were to incur Headmaster Zigurd’s wrath and be disciplined here, within his own home, how could he possibly explain himself to Marshal Arges?

Francis was merely an unwelcome ‘stain,’ a source of family shame, but Steve was the eldest son, the Duke’s direct heir, and the Junior Marshal of the Sigurd Legion!

Bidding Harry trail them at a discreet distance, Norton led the two brothers by hand into the Lord’s Manor. Along the way, he cautioned, “Young Masters, His Eminence Zigurd has given me strict orders not to reveal his whereabouts! I implore you both to maintain absolute secrecy. Furthermore, if you should happen to witness anything peculiar within the city, pretend you saw nothing at all! Your uncle, alas, cannot elaborate further.”

“Uncle, I understand completely,” Steve affirmed.

Du Chen offered a subtle nod, his gesture promising discretion.

As the old adage went, some knowledge was best left undisturbed, lest it invite trouble.

Beyond the main gates, Norton guided them through a modest courtyard, no more than twenty meters square. At its heart stood a life-sized statue of Sigurd.

As Du Chen drew near the statue, an unexpected surge of warmth emanated from the tattoo on his buttocks, trembling with an insistent rhythm that sent an unbearable itch through him. This was the Precious Lotus Scripture’s unmistakable signal: a good deed awaited, and by the intensity of the sensation, it was likely a significant one. The level of itch always correlated directly with the magnitude of the virtuous act; the more intense the craving to scratch, the grander the good deed.

Du Chen halted, his gaze darting around the small square.

It was an utterly ordinary courtyard: low walls and Crescent Archways to the east and west, gravel paths connecting the main gate’s colonnade to the inner sanctum north and south, and the lone statue amidst a scattering of flowerbeds and plants.

Far from an opportunity for a good deed, the courtyard was utterly deserted save for Du Chen and his companions; not even a stray servant could be seen.

How could this be?

The Precious Lotus Scripture’s guidance had never once proven false. While many intricate good deeds required personal discovery and wouldn’t be prompted, a direct signal from the Scripture meant a clear, undeniable opportunity for virtue lay waiting.

Perplexing!

Involuntarily, Du Chen paused before the statue.

“Lord Francis, why the sudden halt? Are you apprehensive about meeting His Eminence Zigurd?” Norton gave Du Chen a gentle push. “Come, you are a Divine Scion. At most, His Eminence Zigurd will give you a stern lecture; no harm will befall you.”

Du Chen had already surmised that Zigurd’s blood-coughing stemmed from a severe injury. His current preoccupation, however, was discerning the location of this promised good deed.

“Heh heh, I confess, I *am* rather intimidated by the Headmaster!” Du Chen parried vaguely, continuing his stride. As he moved away from the statue’s vicinity, the persistent tingling on his buttocks gradually subsided, then vanished entirely.

That Sigurd statue must be the key!

The opportunity for a ‘grand’ good deed lay somewhere near that statue.

Du Chen cast a quick, discerning glance back at the Sigurd statue, mentally committing its form and precise location to memory.

Arriving at a guest room within the inner sanctum, and only after Norton had announced their presence, Du Chen and Steve, the two brothers, steeled themselves and finally stood before Zigurd.

Upon seeing Zigurd again, Du Chen was abruptly struck speechless.

Was this truly the same wretched Old Charlatan from before? His features certainly matched, yet…

Zigurd had donned a resplendent golden-yellow robe, now sitting upright and regal upon a beast-skin chair. Beneath his long, elegant white brows, his triangular eyes shimmered with an almost divine light. His goatee was meticulously groomed, his complexion remarkably fair, and his entire demeanor exuded an extraordinary presence, utterly devoid of the loathsome ‘woman-trafficking’ guise he’d worn moments ago. *This* was the figure who truly resembled the fabled “Eternal Glory,” His Eminence Zigurd!

Truly, the clothes make the man, and the saddle makes the horse.

Observing the brothers’ stunned expressions, Zigurd’s face remained impassive as still water. “So,” he murmured, “it is you two.”

Norton rushed forward, bowing deeply. “Your Esteemed Eminence Zigurd,” he began, “these are Marshal Arges’s sons, Steve and Francis! Francis, regrettably, misjudged your actions earlier and has come to offer his sincerest apologies…”

“Why only Francis apologizing? Headmaster, this incident originated with me!” Steve interjected hastily. “It was my fault; I incited my brother, causing an unfortunate delay in your affairs!”

“One man’s actions, one man’s burden! Headmaster, *I* was the one who provoked you; my elder brother bears no responsibility!” Du Chen nudged Steve aside, then stepped forward with an air of noble self-sacrifice, placing himself directly before Zigurd.

*If Zigurd truly possessed the unyielding, righteous temperament rumored of him,* Du Chen mused inwardly, *then he should appreciate such words.*

“Your Esteemed Eminence Zigurd, while I acknowledge I caused an interruption to your important matters, do you find fault with *my* personal conduct in the situation? Faced with the identical circumstances, what choice would *you* have made? If you truly intend to mete out blame, then direct it solely at me. Had I not been present, this entire incident would assuredly never have transpired!”

Zigurd’s lips curved into a faint smile.

“You speak truly,” Zigurd began. “Today’s events were indeed born of my own suspicious demeanor. You acted out of genuine benevolence to rescue a soul, and for that, you are blameless! Given the exact circumstances, even I would have made the same choice. Steve bears no fault, and Francis bears none either…”

Du Chen, too, allowed a smile to grace his features. “Praise be to you, most just Headmaster Zigurd.”

“Very well, let us consider this matter closed. You are both soon to become my students, and this shall be your very first lesson: some things, even when witnessed with your own eyes, are not necessarily as they appear!” He rose, placing a firm hand on Du Chen’s shoulder. “I hope you continue to be a man who bravely shoulders responsibility. I find that quality most admirable in you! Steve, both of you brothers are truly commendable!”

He settled back into his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Now, I have one lingering question,” he mused. “How did you discern that I was carrying a person?”

“It was a Shieb who made the discovery; his nose is exceptionally keen!” Norton quickly ushered Harry into the room.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Harry’s spherical body collapsed to the ground, repeatedly kowtowing as he wailed, “Your Esteemed Eminence Zigurd, please, do not slay me! I am but a humble Shieb!”

“Why would I slay you?” Zigurd asked, his tone even. “You must have overheard our conversation outside. Steve and Francis are blameless, and so, too, are you!”

“But… but my nose has erred *again*!” Harry gave a bitter, knowing smile. “You must have already surmised that if I could scent that young lady’s presence at the city gate, I can now also scent her confinement within the dungeon beneath the very statue. That revelation alone is more than enough for you to silence me permanently!”

Du Chen stiffened.

A statue… a young lady… imprisoned. Heavens above! Could the Precious Lotus Scripture’s earlier, insistent signal have been urging him to rescue *that very girl*?!