As Martin walked into the backyard, I kept calm, eyeing the man curiously. “What brought you back so soon?” I asked him, leaning slightly as if trying to see behind him. “And why are there so many guards with you?”

I had no reason to panic, none that I knew of. I was still good-aligned and would be as long as I was alive, so they couldn’t be looking to detain me. On the off chance that they were out to get me, I was more than capable of running away. Thus, I simply stared at the man with a puzzled expression on my face.

“James,” he called. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

“What’s going on?” I asked innocently.

“Bruno, that man who attacked you yesterday…” he started. “He didn’t show up for the lashings this morning.”

Suddenly, I felt as if a pit had opened in my stomach. I showed no outer indication of my inner turmoil, but I did fake a brief look of worry speckled with fear. “Did he run away?” I inquired with feigned anxiety.

“That’s what we believe,” Martin shared, looking at me. “The thing is, a lashing is no reason to become a fugitive. Either he is an absolute moron, or… We think that there might be something else happening here.”

“Does that have something to do with me?” I questioned.

“That depends,” Martin said, getting closer to me and kneeling with one leg on the ground as he looked up at me. “Kid, remember, you’re safe. It’s our legal obligation to protect you. Do you understand the privileges and protections you have as a good-aligned person?” he interviewed.

I nodded.

“Good.” Martin smiled as he got back up. “If you know anything about this man that you hadn’t shared with us, you can do so now,” he said. “You have nothing to fear.” With that, he waved at the other four guards and invited them into the backyard.

For a long moment, Martin looked at the pile of wood I chopped. A frown betrayed his confusion as he scratched the back of his head. He was probably surprised by how much work I’d done, but he put it aside and focused on his job instead.

The guards, one after another, got into the backyard. I spotted the stern-looking asshole who slapped me on the head and kicked me in the ass, and I promptly shot him a hostile glare. Before I could even say anything, he bowed his head. “I apologize for my previous behavior,” the man said. “Had I known you were a good-aligned, I’d have never done such a thing.”

Well. At least he was quick to say sorry. In any case, I played the role of the kind-hearted young man and dismissed him with a wave, acting as if I was letting it go.

“So…” I said as I eyed them. “Why are you guys here?” I asked openly.

The stern man raised his head and looked me straight in the eye. “I would like you to recount what happened between you and Bruno, and please, do not omit any details.”

Something was off about that question. My mind raced. Five guards were before me. This wasn’t a big town—this many guards meant that the situation was urgent. If Bruno were just some petty criminal who escaped lashings, they probably wouldn’t have any reason to gather and interrogate me like this.

No, this was more serious than that.

I didn’t know what they knew, but it was almost definitely related to Bruno's evil nature. They might have very well discovered that already or, at the very least, had valid reasons to suspect that it was the case.

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The part that baffled me was, again, why come to me?

And then it hit me—the man said I shouldn’t omit any details. That meant that they believed that I was hiding something. Why would they think that? And what could I be hiding? No, a better question was, what was I hiding? I was hiding that I knew that Bruno was evil, and I was hiding my real motivations for attacking him.

I recalled a few critical details I learned from my blessing.

Shit… I cursed internally.

I knew why they were here. Now that they knew I was good-aligned, my assault on Bruno stuck out like a sore thumb. Under ordinary circumstances, such an act would cost me my good alignment. But it didn’t. Thus, there had to be a good reason why I randomly attacked a guy who was, at worst, being rude to me.

Should I say that I was protecting the old man? No, that wouldn’t make sense. The old man must have recounted his part of the tale already, and if I made up some bullshit, they’d know.

I threw a bunch of scenarios at the blessing, verifying whether I’d get to keep my alignment had that been what happened. Once one imaginary scenario passed the blessing’s requirements, I decided to stick with it.

It wouldn’t be an easy sell, but it was my best bet. In any case, I needed to keep the truth a secret, and my reason for it was more than good enough—at this point, I had come to the logical conclusion that it was probably a lot more challenging to find evil people than good people.

If it were as easy as just touching an object, every settlement would have routine, obligatory checks for every resident on a frequent basis. Or, at the very least, those who were arrested, like Bruno and myself, would be tested for whether they were evil.

If my ability to discover evil folk were revealed, no real good would come, at least in the long run. I would attract the ire of evil forces, and most likely, the church would do its utmost to protect me. This seemed great, but how would I sate my wicked urges then?

I kind of doubted they’d regularly provide me with evil people I could torture in a chamber somewhere. Yet, if I didn’t satiate my desires, they’d keep worsening, eventually overwhelming my ability to resist the pull.

And then… kaboom. Likely in the middle of some grand church or something. Now, I didn’t know if I’d just splatter into a puddle of blood or if I’d go off like a nuclear bomb, but if I was being honest, that wasn’t the part that bothered me.

The part where I would die was a much more significant concern. Still, adding a non-selfish reason for my actions was probably for the best.

Thus, with a clean conscience and with my blessings support, I started bullshitting. “I’m not sure what exactly you want from me,” I said reluctantly. “I’ve already told my side of the story to Martin.”

“And you kept no details hidden?” the stern guard asked, raising an eyebrow.

I wanted to say, “No, I didn’t,” but I could tell that would not clear me of suspicion.

“Do not worry,” the stern guard said. “If you had kept anything secret, we understand it was for a good reason.” The man worked to convince me. “But please, if at all possible, tell us.”

Again, I wanted to say, “I’m keeping it secret for a good reason.” Judging from what he said, they would have to accept that and return. But there aren’t all that many things I could be hiding. I needed them to believe that they had figured it out. I needed them to stop wondering.

Thus, I winced briefly, looking away as I sighed and started a slightly altered retelling. “I saw Bruno walking around the town, pushing people aside as he went. It wasn’t just on the level of being rude; he was being damn rough,” I insisted. “He rammed into me with enough force to knock me over, and I was worried that he might do the same thing to someone who could get seriously injured.”

“If that’s the case,” the stern guard said, “why didn’t you call the guards?”

I could say I didn’t think of that, but that wouldn’t have worked according to the blessing. It would have been a sin of pride—I would have been doing something rash and dangerous because I believed myself best qualified to do it.

Internally, I secretly wished that Bruno had been walking around swinging a knife or doing anything more severe since it was pretty difficult to spin a web of bullshit with such thin strings.

How could I paint a picture where I was effectively forced to act?