Disclaimer: I don't own Guardian's Crusade or its characters. It all belongs to Tamsoft.
After Xizan's defeat, nobody wanted to talk of anything else. Since the threat was securely over, people in every town, village and city didn't mind discussing how close to disaster they came.
"And to think we owe it all to Knight!" a man cried, part of a crowd standing by the gates of Trisken Castle. "I never doubted that he would do it," he added quickly.
"Knight's a real hero!" his neighbor agreed. "Not like that Kalkanor. When true danger appeared, where was he, I ask you? Nowhere in sight!"
"I wouldn't say that," another said. "I heard he got beaten by monsters at God's Tower. Knight didn't have any trouble with them. He - "
"And what about that poor girl, Ramal?" another demanded. "I can't help feeling sorry for her, being pulled along by a fraud like Kalkanor."
"You can't blame her," someone else broke in. "Even the king was fooled!"
None of them noticed the knight standing on the rampart above their heads. He turned and limped down the stone steps, leaning on a crutch, back into the castle. The guards watched his progress with barely veiled disdain, some whispering to each other when he was past them. He stopped for a moment in the throne room, and the king watched him sadly.
"Kalkanor," he said, rising from his seat to put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I've often said that there is nothing more fickle or callous than the mind of the common people. Don't let them get to you. Just focus on your recovery." He smiled. "Oh, I know what's going through your head right now. You wonder why you should want to get better if it will only force you back into a world full of people that hate you. But that isn't the case. Fortune might once again change in your favor."
The knight thanked him and made his way up the winding staircase to his room. A few minutes later, he almost jumped when there was a soft, hesitant knock at his door. He couldn't guess who it could be. The servants certainly had no qualms about bothering him.
"Ramal!" he cried, when the magician entered. He was both surprised and pleased. Since their arrival at the castle after the events at God's Tower, she hardly stirred from her bed, suffering from injuries even worse than his. He still winced each time he saw the jagged scar that marked her right cheek. There were dark smudges under her eyes. When she didn't answer, he frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing at all," she assured him. "I was just thinking..."
He feared that she had been outside and heard the gossip, and was thankful that he took the brunt of it. But when she continued, he realized that wasn't the case.
"Do you think we'll ever travel again?" she asked. I already miss seeing the world. When we're well, would it be possible if..."
"I don't see why not," Kalkanor said, after a moment. He didn't relish the idea, but it was clear her heart was set upon it. He thought quickly. "Why don't we travel in disguise? It'll be more enjoyable that way, don't you agree?"
"Why?" Ramal asked, confused.
"Everywhere we go, people would recognize us or our names," he said. "I just thought we could use a break from the crowds." He didn't mention that the picture in his mind was of a derisive mob.
"You're right," she agreed, with an innocent smile. "That would be a nice change. It won't be the same without Gwinladin, though. I still can't quite believe - "
"Don't worry about him," Kalkanor said curtly. He tried not to think about the third member of their crew. Hearing the name still made his fists clench at the memory of his betrayal. Judging by the look on her face, Kalkanor knew that even Ramal couldn't forgive him.
"I'll talk to the king later," Ramal said. She left looking much better than when she entered. Her enthusiasm was contagious. They both knew their plans would have to wait a few weeks, but having something to look forward to made it much easier to handle. He could even bear listening to the townspeople.
The king was sorry to see them leave, although he understood their feelings completely. he assured them that he wouldn't tell anyone where they had gone, but that wasn't a difficult promise for him to keep since the two adventurers didn't know the answer, either. He arranged for two horses and a few packs of supplies, and turned down Kalkanor's offers to repay him when they returned.
Both travelers agreed that they should leave their distinctive fighting gear behind. Kalkanor joined Ramal by the mirror and admired her. The magician had traded in her robes for more sensible garb, and put her honey-colored hair up in a bun instead of her usual long braid. Her scar gave her a roguish look.
"Look at yourself!" she commanded when he said so, giving him a playful shove. The knight glanced at his reflection with equal surprise. He felt naked, setting off on a journey without his heavy armor. Instead he wore a green hunting outfit, and a matching hat with an outrageous white plume. He adjusted the black patch over his useless left eye. He hadn't bothered to cut his hair during the long months of recovery. Now it fell below his shoulders.
"I hope nobody mistakes us for highwaymen." he remarked. They picked up their horses at the king's stable, and rode off down the main thoroughfare of the city. The few people about at the early hour stared after them with no sign of recognition.
Kalkanor wanted to visit Garam first. He still felt guilty about slaying Ruval the giant. He didn't tell Ramal this, but she readily agreed. The village was nearby, and they were sure to reach it before nightfall. It was around noon, just when they were stopping to take a break for lunch, when they heard shouts not far off.
"It sounds like somebody's in trouble," Ramal whispered.
Kalkanor calmly stood up. "We'll check it out."
They rode in the direction of the cries, and soon came to a clearing, where a small group of Trisken merchants were being harassed by a band of real highwaymen. Kalkanor recognized the victims' faces from the crowd that collected in front of the castle. A lesser man might have stopped to enjoy watching them squirm for a few minutes, but not Kalkanor.
"Don't worry," he whispered to Ramal. "See how those scoundrels strut and swagger? There will be no need for bloodshed today."
Before Ramal could ask how he knew that, the knight boldly strode over to the center of the clearing.
"Who do you think you are, harassing innocent travelers? The law has ways of dealing with scum like you!"
The head thief looked up from digging through the merchants' packs to see if they were lying about how many valuables they had. He saw Kalkanor and his lip curled in a sneer.
"Didn't your mama ever tell you to keep your nose out of other peoples' business?" he snapped. "It might get cut off!"
"Oh, really?" Kalkanor drew his sword. "I, for one, would love to see you try!"
The knight allowed himself a smirk when the bandits hesitated, just as he knew they would. "Come on! I'm only one man, and there's six of you! What are you waiting for? Or were you all bluffing the whole time, and those rusty cutlasses of yours are all for show?"
Within minutes the thieves were huddled on the ground, whimpering and making excuses.
"We didn't mean no harm! Really!"
"We're poor, honest men whose jobs don't pay enough to feed our families, sir!"
"What he said! Think of the children!"
"It's so hard to find a job in these parts... spare us!"
Kalkanor nodded to Ramal, and led the miscreants off to the checkpoint at the end of his sword. Occasionally one tried to bolt or attack him, but he just had to swish his blade artistically and they were silent. He left them with the soldiers at the lookout tower, who weren't too happy about being jolted out of their sleep, and hurried back to the clearing.
"That was amazing!" one of the merchants cried. "How did you do that?"
"I'm wondering that, too," Ramal said. "They looked so tough! Why didn't they fight you?"
"It's simple," Kalkanor replied modestly. "They were just posturing. I doubt any of their victims so far were willing to call their bluff. Unfortunate for them that we had to come along." It was a bit disappointing, really. But seeing Ramal relieved to avoid killing was enough.
The area around Trisken was currently suffering from a moderate drought, which had been steadily recovering since Xizan disappeared. Maybe the thieves had told the truth about not being able to find jobs, but that still was no excuse to commit robbery.
"So we were in no danger after all," the oldest merchant grumbled under his breath, low enough for Kalkanor to barely hear. "Now we have to give these two a reward. What a waste." Aloud, he said, "Now, how can we repay you?"
Kalkanor started to wave away the offer, but the merchants all insisted. They might be stingy with their rubies, but their code of honor demanded that a good turn be rewarded. Finally, the two travelers consented to a free stay at the Garam inn.
Kalkanor and Ramal woke early the next morning, just as the sun began rising. They tried to creep out of the inn unnoticed, but the innkeeper was already awake and caught them.
"You weren't thinking of leaving without signing the guestbook, were you?" he cried, thrusting a heavy, battered leather book at them across the desktop. Kalkanor opened it to the last written page, noting the last group of names. Knight, Baby and Nehani were the last to stay at the inn, an indication how few visitors the place got in such a rural place. Kalkanor wondered briefly how the inn managed to stay in business while the innkeeper fetched a quill pen.
"There you go, sir! Sign right on the line."
The knight hesitated for a moment. Then his face broke into a big grin, the kind Ramal hadn't seen since they started their fated quest for the Beast Emerald. He signed his name, his real name, with a flourish, and looked down at it in satisfaction. Kalkanor. Funny how he didn't feel ashamed of that name any more. After Ramal signed, they declined an offer of breakfast from the innkeeper and headed back onto the open road, the knight laughing to himself when he imagined the looks on the merchants' faces when the saw his name.
THE END