Free The Duty (Play to Live: Book # 3) by D. Rus

gingerly pushing a large cart the way you'd push a baby pram. He was surrounded by a flock of tiny goblins tirelessly scurrying this way and that which rather hindered than helped him. Snowie's stare was filled with admiration and silent worship as he focused on his load: the statue of the petrified troll with the mithril tank barrel still clenched in its hands. Admiring it, he repeatedly let the unbearably heavy cart slide off the road, sinking deep into the soft earth. That's apparently where the goblins' job started. They raised such a racket that the albino woke up, taking his admiring eyes off the statue of his personal hero. Straining his powerful bulging biceps, he then jerked the cart back onto the flagstones.
    "Snowie," I called him softly.
    No reaction.
    "Snowie!" I barked. "Stop, now!"
    "Eh? What is it?" he swung his head around absent-mindedly.
    "Where do you think you're taking it?"
    Finally seeing who it was talking to him, Snowie sprang to attention. "Actually, Sir, that's the order! The Chief Treasurer Durin the Smart, Master of the Mithril Smithy, Sergeant of the 4th Hird of Steel Heads, Senior Attorn-"
    "Belay that! From now on, he shall be called Master Durin, period!"
    The troll paused as he assessed which of the two orders took priority within the castle hierarchy. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, Sir! Master Durin told us to hand all the scrap mithril over to him. And you," Snowie's stare filled with gratitude, then switched back in awe to the Temple's ancient defender, "you did forbid us to break up the statues. So that's how it is now, then..."
    The Fallen One alighted next to us and walked around the petrified soldier. "That's a hero!" he tut-tutted.
    "He is..." Snowie whispered.
    A sudden thought struck me. I turned to the Fallen One, "Do you think you could raise them from the dead? They are heroes any way you look at it. They had fallen defending a sacred cause—the First Temple. You know what Cryl told me? Last time he was in the City of Light, he came across that black-market vendor who offered him a bootleg picture of this sculpture—probably a copy of the painting the Vets had ordered. Apparently, the priests of Light had banned the sacrilegious image but the black market picked up on the demand: too many people felt inspired and motivated by the heroes' feat of courage."
    The Fallen One chuckled, skeptical. Then he stepped close to the figure and lay his hand onto its chest where its stone heart was supposed to be. He listened in, then shook his head in disappointment.
    "I can't. His soul has already suffered a long chain of reincarnations and has lost all connection to this body. I could make you a golem, I suppose, a real good one, level 200 or so, and if I managed to find a few specific ingredients and threw in a good dose of my blood, I could make him as high as 300. Alternatively, I could raise a zombie provided we trap a suitable soul, but I can't guarantee you the result you want. It could be anything: from a drooling idiot to a hateful monster."
    I thought about it. "Shame. No, we don't want a zombie. But a golem... Snowie, what do you think? Would it be too disrespectful to the dead heroes to bring their bodies back into service? They could become the Temple's guards of honor. This way, they'll still serve the right cause."
    Snowie's broad forehead frowned. He tilted his head to one shoulder, reminding me of the Fallen One's earlier gesture. Then he gave a confident nod, "They don't mind."
    I cast a quizzical look at the Fallen One: had they really answered Snowie's silent question? He only shrugged: like, you're asking the wrong person . He then went on to examine the statue again, more thoroughly this time.
    Finally he pronounced his decision, "So be it! I will need some preparation but I could do some of it now, I suppose. Snowie, will you come over, please? Take hold of the barrel—I mean, the club he's holding."
    Startled, he troll shrank. "May I?"
    "You may and you