The girl couldn’t have been more than sixteen, with wide pretty eyes and trembling hands clasped in prayer.

  She found the party at the edge of town square, dropping to her knees before Fanática like she’d seen the Goddess Herself descend from the heavens.

  “O Most Radiant Saint of the Golden Halo!” she cried.

  “Blessed daughter of the Eternal Light, intercede for my poor brother!”.

  Tears rolled from the girl’s eyes.

  “The garrison commander, that notorious lecher… he demanded my virtue, but I refused, for premarital intercourse is a grave sin condemned in Canto 7, Verse 19!

  In vengeance he framed my innocent brother, Ted, for stealing! Please, holy one, free him!”

  Faná’s eyes filled with holy tears.

  “The Goddess hears every cry of the oppressed,” she whispered. Her hands were already reaching for her maul.

  “We go at once.”

  Gorzod crossed his arms, and said in a low voice.

  “Lass, that story’s got more holes than a Nortron tax ledger.

  Smells like family covering for a sticky-fingered brat.”

  He looked sharply at the poor girl. She blushed.

  Thrain grunted in agreement. “Aye. And we’ll be the ones paying the repair bill again.”

  Liora didn’t even bother replying.

  Sensing pointless trouble, she simply melted into the crowd, cloak hood up, vanishing somewhere toward the rooftops.

  Erian, however, flushed scarlet at the trembling girl’s tear-streaked face. “I… I’ll come,” he stammered.

  “We could at least… ask.. the guards, right?” and he went trotting after Faná.

  The barbarian and the dwarf hurried after them.

  The garrison was close, so it wasn’t long before the party arrived in front of the double gate.

  It was a modest oaken gate reinforced with iron bands.

  The new guard was standing guard behind it - a young man barely out of training.

  He saw a woman armed with what looked like a sledgehammer, marching toward the gate in armored robes and quickly picked up his spear.

  “Halt! State your business!” he shouted at the intruder.

  Faná stopped.

  “I demand you to open the gates, in the Goddess Hallowed Name!” she replied in a low voice.

  “I shall not!” shouted firmly the guard from behind the door.

  He thought for a minute, and added. “Not without orders from the commander, ma’am!”

  Fanática narrowed her eyes like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey…

  A bright halo appeared behind her.

  “O Goddess of Innocence Unbarred and Tyrants Shamed,” she intoned, sweetly, “remove this barrier raised against the blameless!”

  The gate didn’t just open.

  It exploded outward in a corona of golden light and wood splinters raining like confetti.

  The guard flew back five feet, landed on his backside, dazed but unharmed, his helmet askew.

  Thrain covered his eyes with his hand.

  “That… was far cry from necessary, lass.”

  Faná turned her radiant gaze on him.

  The dwarf swallowed the rest of his sentence.

  Gorzod stepped forward, offered the guard a hand up.

  “Easy there. She means well. Mostly.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Erian tried to mediate, voice cracking.

  “Faná-er, sister-perhaps we could just… ask politely next time?”

  Faná patted his head fondly.

  “My dear, true righteousness waits for no paperwork.”

  By the time the rest of the guards arrived - halberds lowered, mouths open - they formed a loose semicircle around the holy attacker.

  But no one moved to stop her.

  They’d heard the stories and recognized her immediately.

  She found the stairs leading down.

  Inside the dungeon, Faná wandered down the corridor.

  In her righteous anger, she managed to forget the boy's name.

  Was it Tim?

  Bob?

  “Boy… Boy in need of justice! Come forth! The Goddess has sent deliverance!”

  Every prisoner answered at once.

  “I’m the boy!”

  “No, I am!”

  The old bandit with a missing eye and one arm waved his stump frantically.

  “Me! I'm a boy! I'm innocent!”

  A voluptuous woman in the last cell sobbed, “I’m a boy too, please take me too, saint!”

  Faná paused, confused.

  Then she shrugged.

  “The Goddess shall free all who suffer unjustly!” she boldly declared, then the maul swung once.

  Every cell door melted into glowing slag.

  Locks popped like champagne corks.

  A tide of thieves, cutpurses, bandits, and one very surprised forger poured out, murmuring thanks as they walked, ran, or limped toward the exit.

  One boy - sixteen, bandana pulled low over his forehead - hesitated at the threshold.

  Faná smiled at him.

  He nodded once, then bolted after the others.

  The guards watched them go.

  Not one raised a weapon.

  Outside, the garrison commander - an older man with tired eyes and a salt-and-pepper beard - sighed alongside Thrain.

  “This’ll cost the diocese a pretty penny,” the commander muttered.

  “We will need to repair the gate and doors. And round up the escapees, again.”

  Thrain nodded wearily. “Aye. Welcome to our world.”

  Faná emerged from the dungeon stairs, beaming, her halo soft and golden.

  “The unjustly imprisoned have been freed!”

  Gorzod, suddenly curious, leaned closer toward the commander.

  The man recoiled slightly from the smell of his foul breath.

  “Tell me straight, old man. Was the lad innocent?”

  The commander blinked, swallowed hard, and answered anyway.

  “No. Caught red-handed robbing three noble houses in one night. Good hand with a lockpick, bad luck with witnesses.”

  Erian looked at the commander, then at Fanática, and finally at the broken gates, “But…”

  He blushed as he realized what had happened.

  Faná tilted her head.

  “Then… which of you is the impious lecher commander who sought to defile the pious girl?”

  The commander began to sweat buckets.

  The rest of the guards suddenly found the floor fascinating.

  Gorzod stepped in smoothly. He pulled the commander over and patted him on the shoulder. On the commander's epaulettes.

  “He’s not here. This fine man told me that he was called to the Royal Capital for questioning three days ago.”

  Every soldier nodded in perfect unison.

  The commander nodded so hard his helmet wobbled.

  Faná’s shoulders drooped for a heartbeat.

  She looked at the richly decorated gold epaulettes. There was no spark of understanding in her eyes.

  “Oh. A pity.”

  Then she brightened.

  “Well then! Let this be a lesson: to witness sin and do nothing is itself a sin. Repent, and walk in the Light!”

  The guards paled as one.

  But Faná simply shouldered her maul, smiled sweetly, and strolled out through the ruined gate.

  A collective sigh of relief followed her departure.

  Later that night, in the candlelit hallway outside the bishop's chamber, a servant knocked softly.

  “Your Excellency? An urgent letter from the commander of the Torvyn garrison.”

  The bishop - half-dressed in his robe, with his nightcap on his head - opened the door, yawning.

  He took the parchment and quickly closed the door. The servant remained at the door in case the bishop wanted to write a quick reply.

  After a moment, a grim cry came from behind the door, barely muffled by the thick wooden door. “She did WHAT?!”