The statues were alive. That was something Mills expected, even sort of looked forward to. When Mills approached the gate, the stone giants shifted. Each figure was carved into the shape of a muscular man wearing leather skirts, and they carried spears with points that glimmered. As Mills drew closer, he saw that each figure had a face–the left statue had young features, while the righthand guardian was an old man with lines etched deep into his skin.

  Mills stood in front of the gate. The guardians stared down at the man who came from the Burned Gardens. Mills studied the statues, and tried to guess what kind of stone they were made form. They were gray, and for a split second, Mills imagined himself facing two towering reavers. He pushed the thought out, and hoped it hadn’t gotten its hooks too deep into his brain. He had attempted to sleep on his solo march, but whenever he’d managed to do it, he’d been plagued by nightmares of Camp 33. He didn’t need those seeping into reality.

  “Welcome to Cheau,” the old statue spoke.

  Mills jerked back to reality. The statue spoke.

  “Keep your weapon sheathed at all times. Any acts of aggression will be met with force,” the statue continued in a clear voice.

  “You can really talk?” Mills had to ask.

  “I am capable of speech,” the statue said.

  “Who sculpted you? How did they do this?”

  “I am the property of Cheau.”

  “I figured. Listen, could you possibly get in touch with the mayor’s office?” Mills asked.

  “Query unidentified. Please ask again.” Just as Mills thought; the statue wasn’t truly alive, but it came preloaded with some basic responses. Still, a talking statue was incredible.

  “My name is Mills, and I am a writer with news for the mayor. Can you let them know I am coming?” Mills over enunciated his words, just in case that would help.

  “Query unidentified. Please ask again.” So the statues didn’t have the capability to send a message into the city. Oh, well.

  With the statues limits exhausted, Mills walked through the gate. The dirt road turned into stone. Anxiety slithered in Mills’ chest. He shouldn’t brush shoulders with the thing giving him anxiety, but that didn’t stop his emotions from running away. He was tempted to bring out his blank cards to make absolutely sure nothing bad happened in Cheau. He decided against it. Too much could go wrong.

  The sounds of the city drifted from above. Mills walked up the ramp, and emerged in a town square. Here, a waterwheel spun in the falls. A flower garden surrounded the wheel.

  The town square was boxed in by general stores and inns. Multicolored streamers flapped from the storefronts. Banners advertised Cheau’s Artist Appreciation Week.

  Mills glanced to the sky, did a little mental math, and determined that, yes, it should be Artist Appreciation Week in Cheau. This meant that the city workers should be vigilant and at hand. Mills might not even need to make an appointment with the mayor at all; he could just walk into town hall and find the man behind his desk. Mills would have to stay in Cheau a little longer after he’d delivered his warning, but that should only be a day or two, then he could leave. Mills didn’t know where he would go, but he’d leave as soon as he was able to.

  Mills weaved through the streets, toward the center of town. He walked through more town squares, where artists were putting the finishing touches on their works. This year, the artists had focused on colorful dragons that would light up the city once the sun was down. Musicians practiced on their instruments, and though no one song caught Mills’ attention, the magic vibrating in the music calmed his nerves. The smell of fresh bread drifted from bakeries lining the streets.

  Mills stomach demanded some of that bread, and some meat, and fruit, and something sweet to finish everything off with.

  Then Mills spotted a seamstress’ shop. The glow from everything else didn’t completely disappear, but it did drop a notch. The seamstress’s shop had large windows displaying slim fitting dresses with dragon motifs–perfect for the upcoming festival. Mills didn’t recognize the seamstress, but he still hurried past the shop.

  Mills reached city hall. The waterfalls framing the building hummed. Mills weaved through the crush of people, and toward city hall.

  Mills would speak to the mayor, stay a few days just in case the relics showed up, then he’d say goodbye to Cheau. The plan whirled in Mills’ head so fast that it looked complicated.

  He approached the marble steps. Two guards moved in front of the entrance. One was young with a fierce expression. He wanted an excuse to spear someone. The other guard was older, and leaned against his spear.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “What business do you have here?” The young man spat. The older man sighed and shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

  “My name is Mills. I’m a writer from Camp 33, and I need to speak with the mayor, or someone else important. Someone who can mobilize defenses.”

  The guards exchanged looks.

  “Relics might be coming to the city,” Mills spoke slowly, like he had with the statues. “This place needs to be mobilized against whatever comes. I would like to speak to someone about this, please.”

  “The mayor is in his office, just go straight ahead,” the old guard stated.

  “Wait. How do we know he’s telling the truth on everything?” The young man asked.

  “Look at his coat. That’s a writer’s coat; they aren’t just given out,” the old guard said. “Let him in.”

  “But–”

  “We’re letting him see Mayor Price.”

  The young guard huffed.

  Mills walked to the doors, and pushed himself inside. Windows high above let in golden light. A statue stood in the center of the room, hands behind her back, with an open expression. She must have been a receptionist. Mills ignored the statue, and continued forward. The statue, in turn, ignored Mills. He climbed a set of marble stairs, and found himself in front of an oak door guarded by two more statues. They also didn’t bother Mills, so he didn’t bother them. Instead, he knocked on the door.

  “Who is this?” A reedy voice demanded.

  Mills went over his spiel once more–he was Mills, and he came with a warning. The mayor behind the door didn’t respond when Mills finished.

  The statues at Mills side turned to him.

  “Uh, sir?” Mills asked.

  No reply. The statues continued to stare. They could have been stabbing, so Mills decided the staring was a positive outcome.

  “You have two weapons–a sword and a dagger. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave them with the guards before coming in,” Mayor Price said.

  Mills took off his sword, and pulled the karambit knife out from under his coat, then handed them to a statue. A small twinge of fear went through Mills. If the statue curled his hand around the blades, it would shatter them. That shouldn’t happen, though. Once Mills finished speaking to the mayor, he would get his weapons back in one piece.

  The doors opened. A thin-faced man with a shiny, balding head sat behind a heavy desk. His bejeweled hands were laced together on top of that desk.

  “Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable,” Mayor Price said.

  Mills took a seat in a chair opposite of the mayor.

  “I didn’t expect my lunch to be interrupted today; I apologize for the crumbs.” Mayor Price offered a smile.

  “It’s no issue,” Mills said.

  “You say relics are coming to the city?” Mayor Price asked.

  “That’s what I believe,” Mills said. “And if they come, they’ll come with a reaver.”

  Price frowned. He knew what a reaver was–everyone knew the stories–but most people saw them as nothing but scary fairy tales. If Mills hadn’t seen the monster for himself, he would have thought reavers were fairy tales, too.

  “I’m not making this up,” Mills said. “You know about Camp 33, right? This reaver broke through the Abyss and slaughtered nearly everyone there. You need to be ready if it comes to Cheau.”

  Price pressed his lips into a thin line, and stared at a space beyond Mills.

  “I noticed you have said ‘I believe,’ and ‘if,’ like you aren’t completely certain this threat is coming,” Mayor Price said.

  Good catch.

  “I can’t swear this on my mom’s grave,” Mills said, “but I know relics and a reaver are on the prowl. They could come to Cheau.”

  “The city is already well protected,” Price stated.

  “Not if a reaver is coming,” Mills said through his teeth.

  “What are you asking me to do?” Price leaned forward.

  “You need all of your soldiers at the walls, and keeping an eye out. You need civilians to be somewhere safe, just in case,” Mills said. “And you need a way to kill the reaver.”

  “You don’t have a method to deal with it?” Price asked.

  “As far as I know, no one knows how to kill a reaver,” Mills said. “The Omni Library must have something on it though, if someone could reach it.”

  Price curled his lips into an amused smile.

  “I’m not joking,” Mills growled.

  “I know you are not,” Price said. “I have a position too, if you’re willing to hear it out.”

  What could be more important than protecting lives? Mills gestured for the mayor to continue.

  “Cheau is doing our Artist Appreciation Week,” Price said. “Surely you saw the banners when coming in? This is a very important event, both culturally and financially for the city.”

  Mills swore. Of course money was the issue here. Price raised an eyebrow at Mills’ outburst, and waited for Mills to say something. When he didn’t, the mayor continued.

  “People have traveled all over the world to see Cheau’s festival. We cannot let these people down, especially not on one person’s account,” Mayor Price said.

  “And what if the reaver comes?” Mills demanded. “What if relics come knocking on the gates, then what?”

  “Then our soldiers will repel them.”

  “Or will they be too busy keeping order here?” Mills crossed his arms.

  “You shouldn’t underestimate Cheau’s defenses; they are formidable,” the mayor said.

  Mills took a deep breath.

  “Let me ask you a simple question, and I want a simple answer,” he said. “Will you increase your defenses outside?”

  “If it becomes clear that Cheau is going to be attacked, I will mobilize my troops. Until then, the festival will be my priority,” Price stated.

  Mills thought about the blank cards in his pocket. He could write something that forced Price to chance his mind. That was dangerous magic though; Mayor Price could end up braindead. Mills didn’t like the bastard, but he didn’t want to hurt him.

  “I think we’re done then.” Mills stood.

  “You’re planning to do something, aren’t you?” Price said.

  Mills shrugged. Of course he had something planned, something Price wouldn’t be able to stop.

  The mayor sighed.

  “I do not mind having your aid, truly. If you intend to help Cheau, then I consider you an ally,” Price said. “Whatever you do, however, must not disrupt the festival. That is something I will not tolerate. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, I understand,” Mills muttered. He turned around and marched out of the mayor’s office.