Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

”Inside? It doesn’t look like there’s anything in there,” the Black Dragon said, nudging the mud-caked statue with his paralyzed foreclaw. ”From the outside, there are no openings leading in. And listen to this sound—it doesn’t seem hollow, either.”

”She was probably referring to a presence bound to it,” Ron said, his hand brushing across the Black Dragon’s back. ”It’s a shame. Devin Booker’s setup stopped it from escaping, but it also destroyed the being inside... Jilannis, can this statue be brought back to life?”

”Not today, at least,” the Elf said, summoning a Mage’s Hand to retrieve the statue and manipulating a current of water to wash away the mud. ”Look at the inscription here. This statue can only be summoned once a day. To try again, we’ll have to wait until at least tomorrow morning.”

”As for the summoning, it was awakened by your blood, so it’s best to use the same method next time.” Seeing Ron nursing his still-healing arm, Jilannis added, ”But don’t worry. The evil presence inside has been driven out, so summoning it again shouldn’t be so poisonous. After all, these Elemental Creatures aren’t Ghouls.”

The Moon Elf also suggested they go down and see the Fishman Paladin’s former dwelling. Since Ron was the only one among them who had been to the underwater cavern, he had to prepare to enter the water and guide them, despite his injury. This time, however, was different. Under the control of the three Mages, the waters of the subterranean Dark River parted, just as described in certain religious texts. This allowed the four of them to approach the Fishman Paladin’s home without getting so much as a single drop of water on them.

’A fierce battle took place here.’ Advancing this way revealed details Ron and the others had previously missed. Abundant signs of a struggle remained, impossible to completely erase even after years of being scoured by the river’s current. Ron noticed clusters of three puncture marks that penetrated deep into the rock—likely left by the Fishman’s trident.

The cavern where they had once met Devin Booker was now deserted. All that remained was a simple set of Bone Cards, polished from fish bones, scattered across the ground. The Spiritual Light upon them had not yet completely faded; this must have been the conduit the Paladin used to channel his Divine Power.

”This is indeed Fishman craftsmanship. The Empire has had some... ’less than friendly’ dealings with them in the past,” Jilannis concluded quickly. ”He was a meticulous warrior. Look, if this Bone Card is stood upright like this, it can channel stronger power specifically against Water Elements without being triggered by other creatures. But if that were the case, this card should have fallen at an angle toward true south.”

”So, he intentionally left this opening to target a wider area,” Silvia said, grasping Jilannis’s point. ”To think that after all this time, we’d end up in his debt again.”

”But there’s something bothering me...” Ron said, recalling what he had learned over the past while. ”If the goal was just to store power and release it at a specific node, wouldn’t you only need some of these Bone Cards? What are the rest of them for?”

”Not everyone is capable of finding the optimal solution,” Jilannis said, shaking her head. ”In my opinion, the other Bone Cards are simply redundancies, created by a Paladin who wasn’t well-versed in this art. He probably didn’t know which parts were actually working, so he just kept them all.”

The Moon Elf’s explanation sounded somewhat dismissive of the Fishman, but it was the conclusion she had reached based on her own experience and knowledge: the other Bone Cards were indeed useless. A few even weakened the effectiveness of the entire arrangement.

Out of respect for the Paladin, however, Ron recorded the positions of the entire set of Bone Cards and collected the physical cards as a small memento. They did not linger long in Aiksuuri. After emerging from the Dark River, the group immediately returned to town with the Bone Cards and the statue. Both Ron’s and Jilannis’s laboratories had been moved here; perhaps they could glean more clues from their findings.

The next morning, the bronze heron was again stained with Ron’s blood. As expected, crimson patterns re-formed across the seemingly crude sculpture, completing it. With the continuation of yesterday’s unfinished cry, the Heron Sculpture spread its wings and came back to life!

”The statue! The statue’s really alive!” Delaford clambered onto a table, pointing at the heron, which was gazing in confusion at the large crowd surrounding it. ”This bird is practically alive!”

”It’s time we got you some remedial lessons in the Common Language,” Aive said, exasperated, and slapped the Goblin Hunter on the top of his head. ”Besides, didn’t Ron tell us about this when he came back last night? What’s there to be so surprised about?”

”Hearing about it is one thing, but this is a living statue!” Delaford deftly dodged Aive’s hand and reached out to tease the Elemental Creature, which showed none of the ferocity from the day before. ”Hey, can you sing? Sing a song for us!”

”It’s a heron, not a parrot,” Ron sighed. He arranged nine Bone Cards on the table and looked up at the Heron Sculpture. ”This is what subdued you yesterday. The presence inside you has been driven out. Now, if you no longer bear us such deep hostility, is there anything you want to tell us?”

”After all, yesterday you seemed desperate to get somewhere. Or were you simply trying to escape Aiksuuri’s lair?”

The heron clearly reacted to the Bone Cards, shrinking back in fear. Yet it looked at Ron with confusion, seemingly unable to understand a word he was saying.

’It can’t possibly understand the Common Language, can it?’ Ron thought, feeling disheartened.

”Normally, it should, but just to be safe, I can try the Earth Race Language.” Jilannis cleared her throat, and a series of sounds that almost no one present had ever heard before issued from her lips. Only the bronze heron, standing on one leg on the table with its neck craned, seemed to be listening with rapt attention.

”What are you asking it?” Ron asked. He could hear that Jilannis wasn’t just speaking the unintelligible Earth Race Language; she was also mixing in some words from the Common Language. They were almost all directional terms or nouns for specific places.

The Heron Sculpture’s reaction answered Ron’s unspoken question. As soon as Jilannis finished speaking, the statue, which had looked half-confused, suddenly went rigid. With a loud CLANG, it fell stiffly onto the tabletop. Its sharp beak, which had tasted blood three times in two days, trembled as it shrieked with all its might in a hoarse, distorted version of the Common Language:

”The other side of the mountain! The Count’s manor!”