That is not a village

Stylus shrugged. “That’s not my house. That’s a burned down town.”

Poople laughed. “Show us where Stylus grew up.”

The mirror changed again, showing the burned wreckage of the Empress’s castle.

“See,” said Stylus. “They burned my house down.”

“That doesn’t look like a village,” Throm said.

“It’s a castle, dude,” Poople said.

“Well whatever it looks like, it was a village and they burned it down, not me,” Stylus said.

“Okay. I guess we’re back to his word against yours, so justice will best be served by launching you all into the sun.”

“Show us what Stylus’s home looked like when he was growing up,” Quill said.

A clear image of the intact castle appeared in the mirror.

“Okay. You got me,” Stylus said and broke into a run.

Throm make a clicking sound with his teeth and extended a finger. Stylus was suddenly no longer a breathing, moving being but a statue made of  marble.