CHAPTER 29: [29] STATUES LIE

The morning sun beat down on Hotaru Town’s main square. Pierre wiped sweat from his brow, the coarse fabric of his borrowed fisherman’s shirt already clinging to his shoulders.

Navy sailors stood at every corner, rifles held at ready position. Nobody spoke above a whisper. Children clung to their parents’ legs, eyes darting between the armed guards and the massive veiled monument that dominated the square’s center.

"Quite the turnout," Raven murmured beside him, her voice barely audible.

She’d tucked her distinctive hair beneath a worn headscarf, transforming herself into just another downtrodden townsperson. The effect was so complete that Pierre had nearly missed her when she’d slipped into position next to him ten minutes earlier.

"Forced attendance tends to guarantee a full house." Pierre kept his own voice low, scanning the crowd for any sign of recognition. His red hair was hidden beneath a knitted cap that itched terribly in the heat, but it was better than a bullet to the skull.

The grandstand at the square’s eastern edge held Captain Hardy and his officers. Even from this distance, Pierre could see the man’s chest puffed out, medals catching the sunlight as he gestured to his subordinates.

Lieutenant Commander Reynolds stood at Hardy’s right shoulder, clipboard in hand, while a dozen other officers formed a semicircle of blue and white.

"Citizens of Hotaru Town!"

Hardy’s voice, amplified by a brass speaking horn, boomed across the square. The crowd fell silent instantly, even the crying babies seeming to sense the danger in the air.

"Today marks a glorious Chapter in our island’s proud history!"

Hardy continued his oration, one hand gripping the podium’s edge while the other swept through grandiose gestures. "For too long, the forces of chaos and disorder have threatened the peace we have worked so hard to establish. Pirates ravage our seas. Criminals lurk in our shadows. Dissidents question the very foundations of civilized society."

A woman near Pierre shifted uncomfortably, her weathered hands clutching a young boy’s shoulders. The child couldn’t be more than seven, but there was no light in his eyes.

"But we stand firm!" Hardy’s voice rose another octave. "We stand united under the banner of the United Government! We stand as one people, one purpose, one unbreakable will!"

One terrified population under the boot of one megalomaniac, Pierre thought. But sure, let’s call it unity.

A sharp nudge from Raven’s elbow—look now. He followed her gaze. A cluster of sailors, their eyes scanning faces, drifted through the crowd like sharks. The search for the "red-haired menace" hadn’t ended with last night’s chaos.

"The enemies of order would have you believe that strength comes from rebellion," Hardy continued, his voice carrying that particular tone politicians used when they wanted to sound profound. "They preach the poison of individual will over collective good. They whisper lies about freedom and choice, as if such luxuries could exist without the firm hand of authority to guide them."

An elderly man three people ahead of Pierre made a soft sound that might have been disagreement. The sailor nearest to him immediately stepped closer, hand moving to his weapon’s grip. The old man’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered his eyes.

"I have witnessed the fruits of such thinking," Hardy said, his tone growing darker. "I have seen what happens when discipline breaks down, when respect for authority crumbles, when the weak are allowed to challenge their betters."

The captain paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled crowd.

"Some of you may remember the fishing vessel Coral’s Dream. Her captain thought himself above the law. He believed his personal desires outweighed the needs of our community. He chose rebellion over responsibility."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Pierre caught fragments of whispered conversations—Mika’s father—they took his boat—he’s been gone for months.

"Today, you will witness the consequences of such foolishness," Hardy announced. "Let this serve as a reminder that order must be maintained, that authority must be respected, and that those who threaten our way of life will face justice."

Raven’s hand moved almost imperceptibly toward the small of her back, where Pierre knew she kept a throwing knife concealed beneath her shirt. Her jaw had tightened, and he could see the muscle jumping beneath the skin.

"If this doesn’t work..." Pierre whispered, the words barely a breath between them.

"Then we move to Plan B," she replied without looking at him, her fingers resting against the hidden weapon’s handle.

Plan B. Right. The plan where we try to fight our way through fifty armed sailors to rescue Mika’s father before Hardy can execute him. That Plan B.

Pierre’s own hand drifted toward his jacket pocket, where he’d concealed a section of pipe from the previous night’s sabotage. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

Hardy raised both arms above his head, his voice reaching a crescendo. "But today is not merely about justice! Today is about celebration! Today, we unveil a symbol of our town’s unwavering strength and loyalty!"

The crowd’s collective breathing seemed to stop. Every eye turned toward the massive veiled monument that dominated the square’s center. The statue stood at least thirty feet tall, its bronze form hidden beneath heavy cloth that rippled in the morning breeze.

Hardy paused, savoring the moment. His chest swelled with pride, and a smile spread across his weathered features. "Citizens of Hotaru Town, I give you... THE ETERNAL PROTECTOR OF ORDER!"

His hand closed around a thick velvet rope...

Come on... Pull the rope, you arrogant bastard. Pull it!

"Wait!"

A voice rang out across the square, clear and commanding despite its youth. Every head turned toward the source—a young woman pushing through the crowd with determined strides.

Alyssa.

She wore simple traveling clothes instead of her usual Navy uniform, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders.

"Father, stop!" Alyssa called out, still pushing through the crowd. "You don’t understand what you’re doing!"

"Seize her!" Hardy roared, his face becoming a blotchy crimson mask. "Seize my daughter immediately!"

Sailors began moving through the crowd, pushing civilians aside in their haste to reach Alyssa. But she was already climbing onto a nearby crate, elevating herself above the sea of bodies.

"Listen to me!" she called to the crowd, her voice carrying over the commotion. "I’ve seen the files! I know what he’s planning! The executions, the confiscated property, the—"

A sailor grabbed her to bring her down. Two more guards reached her before she could regain her footing.

"Bring her to the platform!" Hardy commanded. "Now!"

Shit.

Alyssa’s intervention had saved the statue from immediate collapse, but it had also exposed her to her father’s wrath.

Her words from the crate—the files, the executions—she wasn’t just throwing a tantrum. She was trying to stop a massacre. And she’d just thrown herself into the path of the executioner.

Raven’s hand closed around his wrist. "We need to go," she hissed.

But Pierre couldn’t move. He watched as the sailors dragged Alyssa toward the platform, her struggles growing weaker as more guards joined the effort. Hardy stood at the podium, his face a mask of cold fury as he watched his daughter’s approach.

"You stupid, ungrateful child," Hardy’s amplified voice carried across the square as Alyssa was forced up onto the platform. "You would betray your own father? Your own blood?"

"I would stop a monster," Alyssa replied, her voice clear despite the blood trickling from her split lip. "Even if that monster shares my name."

SMACK!

Alyssa’s head snapped to the side, but she didn’t fall.

"You want to know about betrayal?" Hardy snarled, his composure cracking. "You want to see what happens to those who defy me? Fine. You can watch from the front row."

He gestured to Lieutenant Commander Reynolds, who stepped forward with obvious reluctance. "Bring out the prisoners. All of them. We’ll have our executions now, in front of everyone. Let this be a lesson about the price of rebellion."

No. Pierre’s muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at him to act. Not just Mika’s father. All of them. He’s doing it now.

"Pierre, we can’t save them. Not like this. There are too many guards, too many variables. We need to—"

"I know what we need to do," Pierre cut her off. "Leave if you want."

He looked at the statue, still veiled and standing despite the acid eating at its foundation. He looked at Hardy, drunk on power and rage. He looked at Alyssa, bleeding but unbowed on the platform.

And he made his choice.

"Change of plans," he said, pulling off his knitted cap and revealing his distinctive red hair. "Sometimes you have to make your own distraction."