The Quest, Part Three

This is Part Three of the story.  Part Two can be found here.

"So you were raised in the temple?"  Nadia asked, the eyebrow over her visible eye raised.  Her other eye was covered by a leather eye patch, as it always was when she wasn't belowdecks.  On many women, the patch might appear unseemly, but it seemed to further add to the charm of the lively woman, an accomplished warrior that was in charge of the ships' defenses.

Garek nodded.  "Since I was young, yes.  When I turned sixteen, I applied for squireship, and was apprenticed under High Paladin Alteris, and when I was twenty I was named a full paladin."

"So...have you ever lived outside of the temple?"

"When I was young.  But not in many, many years."

"That sounds incredibly boring."

Garek chuckled.  "Not at all. The library at the Temple of the Silver Wing is very large.  Besides, I keep myself busy."

"Oh?" the woman asked.  "A great many female companions for the mighty paladin, no doubt."

Garek frowned.  "No.  I've had precious little time to waste on such frivolities."

Nadia laughed, letting loose a musical, pleasing sound that Garek had found he quite enjoyed over the last few weeks.  "One of these days, Garek, you're going to have to stop taking life quite so seriously.  When's the last time you enjoyed yourself?"

"I've had more important things to deal with than having a good time.  There are grave evils in the world, and for others to have their good times, I must sacrifice mine.  Trust me, nothing of value is lost."

She rolled her eyes.  "And you have to be the one to vanquish all of the evil in the world?  It seems quite the feat."

Garek sighed and moved past her to the edge of the deck.  "If I don't," he said, after a moment, "who will?"  He turned his gaze to her once more, and she felt her blood chill by a few degrees as she saw his eyes.

When Nadia was seven, her father had taken her on a trip to the country of Echorigon, and, during her time there, she had discovered that slavery was, although restricted, perfectly legal.  It was her first trip outside of the Vigilant Empire, and it shocked her to her core.

Luckily, though, she hadn't had the misfortune of meeting anyone during her short stay that owned any slaves.  As long as she ignored the various signs of slavery about the port town they had stayed in, she could pretend that nothing was different there than from back home.

Until the day they left, at any rate.

As they waited on the docks for the chance to board their vessel, a slave ship began unloading.  A large orc, with lean muscles and an impossibly thin frame, was imprisoned in a small steel cage, being pulled by two sailors.  His bony hands were wrapped around the bars of the cage, and spittle flew from his mouth as he roared in anger and hopelessness.  But that didn't compare to his eyes.

His eyes projected pure, unadulterated rage, malice, enmity, and absolute hatred.  The mere sight of his eyes caused Nadia's breath to stop, her heart to skip a beat, and her bladder to loosen.  Now, almost twenty years later, she had completely forgotten about those eyes, until she saw the same raw emotions exploding from Garek's.

"That's how I have to live my life," Garek said, his voice the sound of a blade of ice slicing through the air.  "Because if I don't, no one will.  It's been proven before, and once I'm gone, will undoubtedly be proven again."  He turned and began to walk towards his small quarters.  "If you'll excuse me, I've praying to do."

The Quest, Part Two

Note:  This is Part Two of the story.  Part One can be found here.

Garek slowly walked towards the ship he had purchased passage on, framed on each side by guards--one from the Temple of Pelor, one from the Temple of Saint Cuthbert.

The trial had not gone well.

He had presented his case well, and honestly, but it seemed the Council had, by and large, made up their minds before the trial had begun.  The questions he had asked were simple, with no real look at his character or his justifications for each choice he had made.

Did you kill an Imperial Ambassador?  'Yes, I killed a slaver, an evil man, who also had the great fortune of being an ambassador.'

Were you paid to kill him?  'No.'

Did you accept money for his death?  'I accepted a gift from the father of one of the girls who died in slavery due to his crimes.'

So his death directly profited you?  'That was not the reason I killed him.'

And yet, his death still directly profited you?

The questions continued, each as thinly-veiled as the last, trapping him with the truth.  The sentencing was quick, at the end of the trial, with the Council members convening for less than two minutes.  Permanent exile.  An attempt at appeal in ten years, but it would have to be done out-of-country, and with all twenty-one heads present--making it impossible.

"You're gonna need to wait a bit," the shipmate at the walkway leading from the dock said, eying his armor and the guards appreciatively.  It almost appeared the guards were there to protect Garek--their armor was ornate, though not quite so much as his, and all three had a weapon in reach.  Still, the paladin had no illusions--had he drawn his weapon for virtually any reason, they would draw, as well, and he would be thier first and only target."Captain doesn't allow any passengers on board until all cargo is stowed and secure."

Garek nodded, and walked to the end of the dock, staring out at the ocean.  "To Weatheroot," he said softly.  Leaving the country wasn't new to him--he'd done it dozens of times in his career.  But the thought of leaving the land that he was born, raised, and trained in forever...as much as he didn't want to admit it, that did shake him, just a little bit.

But there were more important things to be done, anyways, weren't they?  He still had a goal.  Still had an endgame.  Still had something that he had to do.

Hurried footsteps on the wood of the dock sounded behind him.  The exiled paladin paid them no mind, assuming them to be another shipmate, until he heard his name called out.

He turned to see Cadeus approaching him quickly, and then embracing him.  "I'm sorry, child.  I'm so sorry."

Garek returned the embrace.  "It's of no matter," he finally said as Cadeus stepped back.  "There is work to be completed elsewhere.  Good work."

"It breaks my heart," Cadeus finally said, softly.  "Seeing you leave.  I love you as if you were my own, boy."

Garek nodded.  "If you hadn't been there, after they died...I don't know how I would have turned out."

"All right, paladin, come on board!" the shipmate at the walkway yelled to him.  "All the cargo is secure, we're casting off!"

"On my way!"  Garek closed his eyes briefly, then called upon the Light.  He opened them to see slight auras surrounding Cadeus, the sailors, the two guards, but none of them signified evil.  He reached into one of the pouches on his belt and withdrew a sealed parcel.  "Don't open this until you can no longer see the ship on the horizon, Cadeus." He said, before he leaned close to his surrogate father and whispered, "and burn it before you let anyone else think of reading it."

With cleverly-hidden heavy footsteps, Garek, exiled paladin of the Order of the Silver Wing, walked down the dock and up the walkway to the The Losgud, the decently-sized cargo ship leading to Weatheroot, one of the largest cities in the Vigilant Empire.  He nodded at Cadeus, who had a hand raised in well-bidding, and went to find the captain, knowing his entire life had changed.

Continue to Part Three.

The Quest, Part One

Cadeus paced back and forth, his long white robe making a gentle swoosh on the ornate marble floor.  "Do you realize what you've done, Garek?"

Garek stretched in his seat, enjoying the release of his back popping before he picked out a long, slender piece of wood from a dozen duplicates sitting in a jar on his table.  "I believe I killed a criminal," he said, working the pointed end of the wood into the intricate etchings on the front of his armor.  This was the first chance he'd had in days to take it off, and finally clean the blood and grime from the more inaccessible areas.

Cadeus snorted.  "Hardly.  You assassinated an ambassador.  An Imperial ambassador at that!"

Garek rolled his eyes and began to work the wood into another etching.  "Assassinated?  Hardly.  I strode in, in the middle of the day, announced his crimes, read his aura to be certain of his wickedness, and struck him down."  He gestured at a scroll on the opposite end of the table.  "There is proof that he was using his diplomatic vessel to smuggle slaves, if you are convinced of his goodness.  I took it from his corpse."

"Yes, no doubt you did.  It doesn't matter how convinced you were of his evil, Garek.  You accepted money to end his life!  That makes you no more then an assassin!"

"Oh, please," Garek scoffed, running a clean cloth over the part of his breastplate that he was finished with.  "He was going to die, anyways.  The money was hardly incentive.  It was just an added bonus."

Cadeus sat on the couch, and held his head in his hands.  "You are going to be tried," he said, finally.

"And?  I've been tried a dozen times, and each time my killings have been found just.  If you recall, last time I was promoted."

"Yes," Cadeus said softly.  "You were.  Which makes this doubly difficult."

"Hmm?  How so?"

"You're a High Paladin, now, Garek.  That means your actions don't just represent the Temple of the Silver Wing and the lands that we have dominion over, they represent Template as a whole.  This isn't going to be a simple trial where you explain to Master Priest Alteris that you were justified.  This will be a Council trial.  The heads of all twenty-one temples will be present."

This was new.  Garek had been called to testify for his killings before--virtually every paladin and crusader in the Order had, at least once--but a Council trial was a different thing entirely.  While all twenty-one temples that ruled Template were supposedly aligned to the powers of Goodness and Light, each had their own specific belief sets that governed how they did so.  The Order of the Silver Wing, for example, worshiped no particular deity, but instead the idea of justice, righteousness, and lawfulness as a whole.

Still, he shrugged.  "Makes no difference.  I did what needed to be done."

"You could be cast out, Garek.  Exiled.  Cut off from the Temple, and any of it's resources."

"Well, then.  I suppose I should be glad that I had the foresight to commission and pay for my own armor, weapon, and shield."

"Damnit, Garek, you'd be homeless!"

Garek finally put down the piece of wood, and met Cadeus' eyes.  "This Temple, and this Order, is a means, old friend," he said, before pulling a long dagger from his boot.  He pressed the blade to the inside of his left forearm and ran it near to his elbow before casually flicking it, scattering the blood from the blade.  He showed the gaping wound to Cadeus before pressing a hand to it and murmuring a quiet prayer.  The skin began to knit itself together, miraculously fast, and once more he met Cadeus' eyes.  "The Light clearly doesn't think I've wronged," he said, "else my powers would be stripped.  If the Council of Template decides to exile me, then I'll make my way somewhere else, and continue my quest there.  I've got more important things to worry about then twenty-one fools who would rather play politics than do what needs to be done."

Cadeus frowned, confused.  "What are you talking about?  What quest?"

Garek smiled, a thin, wry smile that was as cold as a glacier on a moonlit night.  "I'm afraid, old friend, that that's none of your damned business."