===

  Jevrick’s Quest: Find Mayor Clyde

  Side Quest: Revive Von Jakoby

  Maplebrook’s Population: 999

  ===

  Atan stood in the doorway for some time longer than he’d expected, the stranger’s dark aura leaving a sour stench in his nostrils. The light within him quaked, and his hands balled into fists instinctively. This was a sensation he knew well from his many years dedicated to honing the power of the Lord of Light. He was one of the few of his order who still owed allegiance to such an entity, but they allowed him to maintain his ancient oath as it served his brothers and sisters well for moments like this - when evil stalked among the innocent.

  As that cloaked figure left the tavern, Atan couldn’t help but notice the stranger’s pale features, and eye sockets not quite right, skin sloughed in places it shouldn’t for a face so youthful. But despite the appearance, it was the sense of dark powers that emanated from the stranger that told Atan what he needed to know: That man is a source of evil’s will, and he must be apprehended.

  Shifting in his plate armor, Atan stretched his rehearsed muscles and sought out his fellow knight who was waiting in the Chapel of the Obelisk. It was also where he’d left his hammer. Foolish not to carry it with him, he’d thought he’d only be gone for a moment - it was quite the weighty object. But perhaps it was wise to have left it, as now he had time to plan. With the weapon in hand, he would have surely struck a blow at the foe without thought. Maplebrook was under his protection, and he’d die a horrible death before he’d let wickedness take root there.

  ***

  I continued to the town hall after shaking off my encounter with that pompous paladin. The building was long, with a steepled tower for an alarm bell, which glistened as the lowering sun struck its brass. The roof was of mix-matched blue and purple shingles, and the door was scratched from years of use. My chest thrummed as I approached. What was this sensation? Nervousness? Anticipation? Was I really so excited to meet with a mortal? I supposed I was! To think, I was to treat with the breaker of my shackles, the slayer of the mighty Dread. I pondered my alacrity. Shouldn’t I have been upset? Coursing with a drive to avenge my fallen master? No. Those bonds had been severed. Now. . . Now I was free to feel, to think for myself, to take pleasure in the mundane. Thankfulness. Yes, I was quite thankful for this new life before me. Perhaps I’d settle in this quaint town, with its simple folk, and warm days. Perhaps I’d lead a tabula rasa—a life made new. What a thought? I smiled, and knocked on the door.

  That’s when my day was soured.

  “Halt!” commanded a baritone voice.

  I turned to face this sudden abrasiveness. The excitement in my chest deflated to pure loathsomeness. Before me were two plate-armored imbeciles. They bore the same sigils of that purple stone on their paldrons as the one I’d passed in the tavern. Actually, one was indeed the man I’d passed by. Paladins, self-righteous and misguided as always. Here to spoil the good mood nonetheless. The man I’d already met gripped an absurdly large warhammer, which was gilded with designs befitting a noble. The other touted a kite shield and longsword. They both wore helmets that covered their heads, save for a “T” shaped slit for their eyes and mortal breathing vestibules.

  I didn’t hesitate this time to use my True Sight to gauge their capabilities.

  ===

  Name: Knight Atan Starr, of the Order of the Obelisk and Scion of the Lord of Light

  Anima Level: 55

  Age: 42

  Lineage: Human

  Class: Vanquisher (Might)

  Status: Healthy

  Conditions: Oath of Lord of Light. Pact of the Great Obelisk.

  Stats:

  Might: 37

  Agility: 15

  Intellect: 26

  Wit: 20

  ===

  Name: Knight Godrick Tallow, of the Order of the Obelisk

  Anima Level: 60

  Age: 51

  Lineage: Human

  Class: Templar (Intellect)

  Status: Healthy

  Conditions: Oath of the Great Obelisk. Pact of the Great Obelisk.

  Stats:

  Might: 28

  Agility: 15

  Intellect: 40

  Wit: 20

  ===

  Well, this was interesting for multiple reasons. First, the condition of both an oath and pact was quite perplexing, but so were most things a paladin did. Second, they were not the average sort of holy warrior I’d encountered charging into Dread’s fort—these two were more seasoned, perhaps veterans of an old war, set up here to live out a less demanding post. That was my assumption anyway. I did not want to fight them nonetheless. Not because I feared them, though I was certain they’d give a decent challenge, but because I really didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot if I planned on making this place my new home.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  I raised my hands in peace. I had no reason to fight them. I was certain, despite paladins having the thickest minds of all mortals, that they’d be able to see logic.

  Nope.

  They attacked me right away.

  Maybe they saw my hands being raised as a form of casting a spell—which, in some cases, it could have been.

  I dodged to the side as a radiant explosion shot forth from the palms of the older one.

  “What in the afterlives—?” cried another voice. The voice of an older gentleman. The voice of such a wondrous being, that his instant vaporization set fury in my chest. Fury instilled mainly from the name that appeared when I looked at him with my true sight. Clyde Funion.

  The name flashed away in an instant as the man was incinerated. These bleeding paladins had just killed the man whom I owed much.

  I thrust out my hands to the knights in retort. My satchel snapped open, and the components incinerated in a flash—dark and purple fire torrented from my palms. My features faded away from their disguise to my true self, and I cared not, for rage filled me and death followed. The fire incinerated the older paladin in an instant, leaving nothing but charred ash in a shell of silver armor that clattered along the ground like it’d been ripped off a mannequin.

  The second paladin uttered some incantation as I directed the flames at him—he was too slow, despite the radiant display of light countering the flame. He croaked in anguish and fell to the ground a lifeless crab of armor and pale flesh. Dark Flame fed off magic, you see, magic bound by one’s anima. In other words, he protected himself from being incinerated, but the fool fed me his life essence in the wake of his—oh. Oh dear. Oh, what have I done?

  I stumbled back, realizing now that a crowd of sloppy faced townsfolk had gathered around, eyes wide in abject horror. Before me lay a smoking pile of dust and fine armor, and a corpse, and behind me fluttered away the particles of who I knew had to have been the most precious leader this town had seen. Oh the tragedy! Such a benevolent breaker of chains, dashed by self-righteousness. . . I snapped back to focus. I was in a precarious situation. I knew what had happened, but I doubted that the combination of dead mayor, two barbecued paladins, and a skeletal mage would make for much of a convincing alibi. I cleared my throat—not actually, as I didn’t have one, but I had the capability to mimic the sound all the while—and bowed to the stunned crowd.

  “Apologies, dear Maplebrookians. Not to worry, this is a mess I shall amend! Please, pardon me as I seclude myself to my thoughts.” With that, I bent down and swept the ashes of the incinerated paladin into my satchel. Then I snapped and with some components sizzling away from my bag, levitated the other dead body and his weapons, then walked with them following me into the town hall. The paladin’s head lolled to the side and tongue hung out like a dog panting in the summer heat.

  Once inside, I closed the door behind me. Then I ascended a flight of stairs to what I assumed was Clyde’s office, and dropped the paladin’s dead body on a leathery couch. “Well.” I muttered to myself. “That couldn’t have gone worse.”

  Then I remembered the old uncle’s corpse baking in the sun on the road. This was not the introduction I had intended to make, not one bit.

  I examined the contents of my satchel, using my true sight, I could see what spell components were still available. Still plenty of blood vials and sacks of bonemeal, as well as various glowing flowers. I was low on materials to cast many spells, but enough to solve a few of my problems. I had planned to go back to that components shop so I hadn’t stocked up on as much as I’d have liked. Fortunately, I had enough for a portal and a resurrection spell. In fact, I had enough for two resurrections if I cut the phoenix tail right.

  I waved my hand, spoke an incantation, and materialized a portal in the air. It was like a giant wardrobe mirror whose glass was punched out, and on the other side was a glimpse into another world—the other world being the open hills right by the girl and her grandfather. Ah, she had stayed put! Splendid.

  Nora stumbled as I waved to her from behind the portal. I snapped for the cart to follow to come in with her. The girl yelped when she entered, no doubt seeing the dead paladin on the table behind me. I sealed off the portal and double checked the uncle to see if his anima was still tethered. Fortunately it was, but I had to start the ritual quickly. I pulled out the necessary components to perform a ritual—which would allow me to save my progress, should my concentration break again. While other sorts of spells might consume the components automatically as I weaved the aether, rituals required precise actions and placement of the materials in order to start properly.

  “You, you killed. . .” Nora gasped.

  I focused on my work as I addressed her. “I assure you, it wasn’t my first inclination. He attacked me first, you see, and foolishly killed the noble Clyde.” I gestured to the jar of ashes that lay on the counter to the right of the paladin. “His anima is still intact as well. Pity the other paladin is dead—I’m sure he would have had a way to revive his friend, as paladins often do.” This was an aspect of holy knights that irked me to no end. Sure, when I raised the dead, it was evil and dark. But when they did it, it was a miracle. Sigh. I guessed it was because people maintained their sense of autonomy more often when paladins brought the dead to life—or, so they claimed. For all I knew, they were creating thralls through their resurrection rituals the same as I often did. Well, maybe one day I’d sit down with a paladin and sip tea while we discussed the finer details of the subject—as loathsome as that sounded. Hmm. Perhaps I’d see some new perspective of them and they’d come to understand me as well. Maybe not too bad—

  “Arrgh!”

  I dodged out of the way as a knife flung past me and embedded itself into the wood wall. I twisted back to see Nora huffing, face red with a vengeful nature I hadn’t seen in a young girl before.

  “Well,” I said cooly, “I’m glad you had the sense to throw the thing. I would be careful not to make another attack at me, this ritual is precise, you know?”

  She snarled, a letter opener from the mayor’s desk already in hand. “You killed a servant of the Obelisk and my uncle. How do I know he’ll still be himself when you bring him back? You’ll just turn him into a mindless creature, won’t you?”

  I sighed. How could I get this young, misguided soul to understand that I had no intention of doing that? Nothing I thought of sounded right. She’d dismiss it, blinded with one emotional response or another, and I was still grasping emotions again after being absent from them for so very long.

  It was good that I had double checked my components prior to this, as I might have used the Chains of Erabos again to restrain her, but that would have siphoned a key material for the resurrection spell, and seeing as I only had enough components for two, I’d have hated to accidentally use up one of the chances. You see, sometimes this ritual went wrong for one reason or another: accidentally mispronouncing the words, the phoenix tail titled at a 90 degree angle instead of at 45 degrees, or even a fly landing on the corpse. Those things would require me to halt the ritual, or possibly start over if they occurred at the end when the magic takes shape. So the second collection of materials was necessary if I was to fix this dead man.

  So, instead of the chains, I resorted to a less. . . diplomatic spell. With the utterance of the word nightmare, the girl’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed on to the floor, shaking in a feverish dream. My satchel smoked with the exhaustion of less vital components—spider silk and bone meal.

  I shook my head, a toughness settling in my heart. I felt rather remorseful about this whole ordeal. . . guilt? Actual guilt? It was a disgusting, decaying, corrupting sensation. I’d forgotten not all feelings, well, felt good. “I’m sorry, little Nora. I will wake you soon.” I had to leave her like this so that she wouldn’t attempt another attack on me, and most likely die in the process—as had become an evident pattern since I’d arrived in this country.

  I went to work setting up the ritual and saying the necessary words to turn back death’s clock for this poor fellow, all the while I heard a concerning clamor gathering outside.

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