Paladin Sergeant Drake bit his cheek when the news was delivered. “Infernos,” he swore as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Master Drake?” the young squire asked. He stood sheepishly at the edge of the table where the Knight officers ate in the garrison dining hall. The squire's frame was barely wider than a single of Drake’s biceps.
Drake sucked in air to cool the sore. Then he looked at the boy. “Who is at the gate?”
***
“That bloody fool,” Drake said while strapping on his belt and cinching his gambeson, which he did while hobbling up the stairs of the gate tower. “That bloody twice-oathed oaf.”
Alaesh did her best to keep pace with her mentor, though more often he’d bend over to tighten a strap and she’d nearly bump into him, only for the man to step into a sudden flight and she’d have to chase after him.
She asked, “Why are you fretting so much about Atan? He is a knight of our order, is he not?”
Drake stumbled over a step as he twisted his head to Alaesh. “And, whoop—ehem. And he’ll die a knight of the order if he lets the High-Council get ahold of him, that cursed dawn warrior.”
Alaesh aided her master up to the ramparts.
Several other knights and watchers huddled on the wall, leaning halfway over its crenels.
“Out of the way!” Drake commanded.
They scrambled back.
“Bloody. . . Gah, just get back,” he managed to loop the belt finally. He leaned over the crenel, took a glance at what was down there, then stepped back and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Alaesh took a side step and peered down at the two travellers below the gate. First was the Twice-Oathed Knight, Atan, on his horse. Second was an unfamiliar girl who sat upon a mule. She looked up to Sergeant Drake.
“Allow us entry!” the girl demanded.
Drake gave Alaesh a look of, Did this little girl just talk to me that way? Then he leaned back over the wall and shouted, “Paladin, what brings you back to Knightshelm? Were you not stationed at Maplebrook? You have not been summoned.” Drake hissed that last phrase, as if he were offering a serious reminder.
Atan said, “Aye. I mean not to abandon my post. I am guiding this prospective neophyte to the Order so that she may have a chance to proceed through our trials. She seeks to become a knight of our order, and will heed no alternative council.”
Curious, Alaesh thought. She herself had been a child when the Order took her in. If Drake’s stories were accurate—as she had been very young to remember, and he did like to embellish such tales—then this young girl below bore a similar fire as Alaesh had when she had been first inducted. Eyes that could burn holes if they desired, and a posture of one who had been through much yet remained unfettered.
Drake groaned. “You plate-wearing sod, go home.”
Silence clung to the air after the Sergeant’s curse.
Alaesh observed the expressions of the others on the ramparts. No one seemed to really know what to make of Drake’s rudeness to such a fabled member of their order. In fact, Alaesh had never seen her mentor so brazen toward another knight. Sure, Atan had stood against their party when they’d arrived in Maplebrook to deal with the necromancer, but even the Great Obelisk deigned to spare the mage. So, what was the Sergeant so riled about?
Atan sighed. “I may yet turn away, ser, but I am invoking the right of apprenticeship. As a paladin, I may take on a ward of my choosing to raise—.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Bah, save your breath, Atan.” Drake let out a heavy sigh. “From someone who has invoked such rights, you need not explain. . . Yet, I ask again, are you certain you would not instead return to your post?”
Atan squinted. “Is there reason I should fear returning to my brothers and sisters?”
Drake swore under his breath. “None that you are perceptive enough to see, ser.” He whipped around to the wall guards. “Let the bloody fool and the girl in.”
Alaesh followed her mentor back down the stairs. When the others were out of sight, she asked, “What has driven you to be so harsh to Atan?”
Sergeant Drake halted. “The High-Council seeks to try him for an oathbreaker.”
“But did the Obelisk not pardon him and the wizard so that they might preside over Maplebrook?”
Drake turned to her. “No, Alaesh. The Obelisk forbade us from confronting the necromancer. It has not delivered such ordnance for our brother.”
Alaesh frowned. “Why is it that none of us stationed at the outer wall know of this?”
“Because. . . I had kept the High-Council’s order a secret. I had hoped to give Atan a chance to evade his fate, at least for a time until the High-Council forgot of this and turned to other matters.” His eyes drooped. “Bloody fool. Too honorable to know he’s just walked into his own execution.”
***
. . .the present.
Jevrick’s Main Quest: Restore Maplebrook
- Earn Maplebrook’s trust.
- Rebuild houses.
- Restore population.
Side Quests:
- Who are they?
- Restore Atan to good health.
- Where is Nora?
- Is that really Clyde?
- Find out who burned down the chapel.
- Fulfill obligation to Atan.
===
Maplebrook’s Population: 391
===
Notable Townsfolk:
- Merchant Guild (Guild Master Vrak, Xanya)
- Apothecaries (Fern and Lysa)
- 4 Hunters (Oon, Molly)
- 3 Woodsmen (Bee)
- 5 Guardsmen (Ronald, Tobi)
- Tavern Keeper Bano
- Chef Hughie
- Others: Jane, Derek, Von, Maribel
===
Undead Servants: 2 Greenfolk Bandit Thralls (Timmins and Lana)
===
I wandered the streets of Maplebrook while it seemed all of its people had retired to their beds.
The moon glowed beautifully, a golden beacon in the sky for all who sought companionship in the late hours.
There was nothing I could do for my friend Atan until later into his recovery process. In the meantime, all I could do was wander both in my mind and on foot.
My shoes clopped against the cobbled roads, and a soft breeze circled my body. It was a relaxing venture, amidst all the chaos that the town had faced in so short a time. There were some homes that had still not been fully repaired since battle with the Greenfolk, and there were many more that were abandoned. I needed to determine a way to recall people to their home. What that was, however, I could not be for certain.
My strolls took me past the currently slumbering Sleeping Dragon Tavern, where I knew Clyde and Kipsic to be resting. My feet took me around the town for a while, until I finally stopped at the old chapel, which had been scorched to the ground. I still knew not who caused this destruction and took away so many souls’s opportunity for resurrection. But, for the moment, such a matter was a small worry of mine.
Still, I do not know much of what drove me, but I decided to start digging beneath the blackened ashes. Perhaps I was bored, or perhaps I saw the manual act as a form of meditation of its own. Whichever the driving factor, I took a shovel and began digging the site. One throw of dirt after another, until I found the stone stairs that lead down to the cellar.
Here, much of the roof had collapsed through, which had allowed the fires to consume the corpses of which I could not rescue. I now stared at dozens of relatively intact skeletons. I wondered why no one had asked to reclaim the remains of the dead, but I did not trouble myself with the consideration for long. Much had happened of recent times that it only seemed fair that some minutia slipped through the cracks.
Who could have been so driven in callousness toward me that they would not only desecrate a chapel, but also destroy the bodies of so many. It had not been that person’s right, whoever they were. But now, it seemed that the culprit was long gone. So, I troubled myself not with the answers to that question. Instead, I decided that I would work to get the town back in order in earnest. There were indeed many busy days ahead.
So, as I gathered the remains of the dead in plies, I roped in Timmins and Lana to wheelbarrow them back to my office. I would of course give the loved ones a chance to reclaim their dead. But for those who did not. . . I had some use for these bones.