The Sleeping Hound Inn was located no more than a few days' ride from the surrounding towns and villages, not to mention the grand city of Freeport. It had grown greatly over the years, building four stories for guest rooms alone and an impressive two-tiered dining hall. The inn catered to travelers of all different shapes and sizes. Humans and half-elves were the most common sight, followed by halflings and a sampling of wood elves, gnomes, and dwarves. Sometimes there was an ogre or a dark elf, but they generally stayed away from the crowds per the insistence of the inn's bouncers. Orcs were shot on sight.

The inn's dining hall was packed. Waitresses hustled from one table to another as tempers flared back in the kitchens. Minstrels did their best playing jovial tunes over the din, and patrons rearranged tables and chairs as they saw fit. A cacophony of different languages, accents, and dialects filled the hall.

At a table in one of the quieter spots in the hall sat three members of the Knights of Truth, each eating their simply but hearty meals in relative silence. The Knights of Truth was a paladin order based in nearby Freeport, serving the will of Mithaniel Marr the Truthbringer, god of valor and divine champion of justice, honor, and charity. The order's members all swore to various oaths during their training, abiding by increasingly strict tenants. It was taught that the oaths freed its members, and that oaths of sobriety and maintaining a sense of decorum enabled a paladin to better be ready and able to combat any evil that may arise.

Janus Kamaren was the leader of the group. He was a tall, strong human with medium-length brown hair neatly parted at the middle. His dark blue surcoat was pressed and straightened. He was generally a reserved individual, and his expression was normally one of utmost seriousness or even irritation, even when he didn't feel as such.

Across from Janus was Tyria Elarra, a high elf. High elves were rare in Freeport, but nevertheless she had been born and raised there. Her parents were jewelers, and Tyria had inherited their love of finely crafted, beautiful things. She had altered her surcoat to flatter her lithe figure, and had also hand-stitched golden embroidery into its hems. Many Knights of Truth considered her luxurious fashion to be frivolous and unbefitting of a paladin, but she had excelled in her training and thus was generally left alone about her clothing.

Next to Tyria sat Elliot Dayson, a human with messy black hair and striking ice-blue eyes. Unlike Janus and Tyria, Elliot had not yet taken his vows as a paladin. He had trained for the same time as his companions, but he had repeatedly gotten in trouble for public brawling, injuring sparring partners, and generally being a poor representative of the order.

"Oh, hey, there's some Militia sitting over there," said Elliot. Janus turned around and, sure enough, there were six members of the Freeport Militia, all strong, human men clad in crimson red tunics.

Janus sighed as he returned to his food. "Just ignore them, and maybe they'll ignore us."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Do you just see the worst in everyone?"

"You know they're not our friends."

"Oh, come off it. They're not all the same any more than we are." He hugged Tyria around her shoulders. "Right?"

"You're right." Tyria lightly patted Elliot's hand. "But it still pays to be cautious."

"It's not like they're orcs or something," Elliot said. "They can be reasoned with."

"Their leader is a fallen paladin," said Janus. "He murdered a fellow knight—"

"Allegedly murdered."

"—he murdered a fellow knight and now tries to act like we betrayed him. No, I'm not inclined to trust them."

"Well, I'm going to go talk to them and decide for myself." Elliot stood up. "Care to join me, Tyria?"

"No, thank you. I'll stay here with Janus."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"No, Elliot." She smiled. "Go enjoy yourself."

"Don't tell them we're heading to Greenfall," said Janus as Elliot passed him. "I'd rather not make the trip worrying about a knife in my back."

Tyria cocked her head to the side. "You seem tense."

"I'm fine." He quieted for a moment. "Okay, maybe a little tense."

"Scared of teaching novices in Greenfall?"

"Scared of Elliot helping us teach novices in Greenfall."

"We'll be fine," Tyria said. "I doubt he'll do much more than stare out the window."

Janus returned to his food. "Hopefully he'll fall off his horse and spend the entire trip in an infirmary."

"—so he tells the paladin, 'Hey, no wonder I can't get it in, there's a stick in your hole!'" Elliot grinned as the Militiamen laughed. They were largely confused when he joined them, but had gradually warmed up to him over the course of drinks and crude jokes they hadn't heard before. Elliot was feeling happier, himself.

"You're rather unusual for a Knight," said Daks, the leader of the band.

"Still a squire!" Elliot downed another tankard of beer. "I can't stand all the sanctimonious types I run into in the order. And trust me, they're the majority."

"So why did you even join?"

"My first reason was to get my parents to shut up. They're devout worshipers of the Marr twins, and they were paying for it, anyway."

"Why Mithaniel, then?" asked Daks. "Erollisi Marr is all about love, which I respect. I've seen some gorgeous priestesses at her temple. Even considered joining their order myself because of that."

"Trust me, they're prudes. Both Marr twins seem to have something against casual sex, or so the clergy tells me."

"You sound like you don't care much for your patron deity."

Elliot grinned and laughed. "What gave it away?"

"Why remain with the Knights?"

"The benefits. Paladins are generally trusted, with no questions asked. The order also has access to high quality arms and armor, and Marr grants some blessings to anyone who swears an oath to him."

"Such as?"

"Such as healing myself or someone with the touch of a hand."

"All paladins can do that," said Daks, "but only once every full day. Explain that."

Elliot chuckled. "You should see the priests fumble over themselves when you ask that. They argue about it, saying that the gods are limited by an ancient, supernal pact or a lack of worshipers."

"Seems like a lot of work for little payoff. Just hire a cleric."

"Well, the healing is just one benefit. My personal favorite blessing—" He swatted a passing half-elf barmaid on her bottom. "—is immunity to disease!"

The men laughed as the barmaid glared at Elliot. The squire shrugged and smiled at her, joining in the laughter when she stormed off.

"Lad makes a strong argument, I'll admit," said another Militiaman.

Elliot raised his drink in reply. "I'd say it's all worth a few prayers."

"So," said Daks, glancing over Elliot's shoulder, "why don't your companions join us? They the sanctimonious types?"

"Our leader most certainly is." Elliot snorted. "You should have heard his whining when I said I was going to come over here. Luckily Greenfall's not too far away, so I won't have to listen to him on the road for too long."

"You're headed to Greenfall?"

Elliot laughed. "I said that, didn't I? Sir Jackass over there thought me telling you that would be some kind of security risk."

Daks chuckled and shook his head. "Greenfall's a nice place. But no, he doesn't have to worry about us. We're returning to Freeport."

"Well, I might suggest to him he's being followed, anyway."

"What about the elf? It's rare to see high elves around these parts."

Elliot's muscles tensed. "She grew up here."

"Gorgeous, isn't she?"

"She took an oath of chastity." Elliot looked Daks in the eye. "She's not about to sleep with anyone."

"Sanctimonious type?"

"Not at all. She just wants to be married first."

"Oh, I've heard that one before," Daks said with a laugh. "Every woman who's told me that just needed some encouragement. Everyone has needs, and there's nothing wrong with a little fun.

"Save my seat for me, boys," he said as he rose from his chair.

Elliot clinched his fists. "Where are you going?"

"Seriously?" asked Daks. He thrusted his pelvis forward with a grin.

Elliot knocked his chair over as he sprang in front of Daks.

Daks looked down on Elliot. "Easy there, squire."

"She'll say no."

"Isn't that up to her?"

"I know her better than you." Elliot's fists trembled. "And the answer is no. Don't waste your time. Or hers."

"Hey, I'm doing you a favor. I'll loosen her up tonight, and then you can have her as much as you want."

Elliot's vision went red as he drove Daks to the floor, punching him in the face again and again. Every voice and sound was muffled, and he felt nothing from the return blows. Exhilaration spread through Elliot as Daks's soft throat collapsed beneath his fist. The squire's ice blue eyes flashed with malice as he raised his fist again.

Something grabbed him from behind, lifting him from the ground and slamming him into the wooden wall.

"—is wrong with you?" the assailant asked, his tone furious.

Elliot swung blindly at his attacker, hitting nothing and being shoved to the floor. Elliot's hearing and vision cleared as he was pinned on the ground, and finally he saw his attacker's blue surcoat.

It was Janus. Behind him, Tyria was placing her hand on Daks's cheek, a blue glow emanating from beneath her palm. Daks gasped for breath once, then breathed freely as his injuries faded as if they had never been there.

"Stay down." Janus stood up and turned to the furious Militiamen. Elliot remained on the floor, his own hurts finally becoming apparent.

He watched Janus and Tyria argue with the Militia. Elliot couldn't make out everything they were saying, but Janus's raised hands with palms forward told him all he needed to know. Elliot growled. Once again, Janus was refusing to fight, not even to protect his companions.

It wasn't long before the bouncers came to break them up. Tyria helped Elliot off the floor, and the three Knights of Truth left the Sleeping Hound Inn's dining hall.