Chapter Three
Daellin did not have a second to spare when he blocked a thrown hammer with his sword. While it was dwarfed by Uther's warhammer, it would have him seeing stars. The source of the thrown hammer was a crowd that had gathered in the main street of Tyr's Hand. Since his squad of knights arrived at Tyr's Hand, the rebelling peasants had been harassing them in many ways. It began with vulgar language thrown at the knights but it had since escalated to physical violence. The Alliance knights stationed at the city before Daellin's arrival spoke of how the locals had withdrawn any chance of a peaceful resolution and resorted to attacking the guards with their tools. The paladins were told that while no soldiers were injured in the process, retaliation by the guards was quick and bloody. The news deeply discouraged the paladin as he had hoped this mission would avoid as much bloodshed as possible. The last thing they needed during a war against orcs was to have man slay their fellow man.
"Sir, do you think it would be best to head back to the barracks?" asked one of the paladins that Daellin brought. She had her shield raised to fend off any thrown objects but kept her sword sheathed. She joined the other Silver Hand knights in a line behind Daellin in the middle of the main road.
Daellin shook his head and replied, "It is imperative that we at least try to hold discourse with them." Once again, the Silver Hand paladin had to dodge a thrown object, this time a piece of lumber. The guards stationed at Tyr's had joined Daellin's position and were also keeping their shields raised for protection. A select few had their crossbows pointed at the mob. When Daellin and his knights arrived at the city, he saw first hand the local guards easily disposing of a few peasants. Outraged, the paladin immediately ordered the local Alliance guards to cease all hostilities against the peasants. He told the local captain that the senseless loss of life did not help the situation but his words fell on deaf ears.
"Paladin, the sooner we squash this rebellion, the sooner the ships are stocked. If I recall correctly, your orders are to end this revolt as soon as possible," the local captain cried out to Daellin from the line of knights. Daellin did not honor the man with a response. Instead, he gently touched his gauntleted hand on his libram attached to his belt and sheathed his sword. Daellin mouthed a prayer he learned during his time studying under Uther before taking a few steps towards the mass of revolting peasants. A few sent a volley of rocks towards the paladin's direction but all failed to hit their mark. The paladin made sure he still had about fifteen yards of separation between him and the unruly crowd.
Daellin cleared his throat. "Fellow countrymen, on behalf of the Alliance of Lordaeron, we mean you no harm! We only wish to hear you out!" Daellin announced to the revolters. A few ceased their cries of frustration and turned to one another to gauge each other's reaction to this proclamation. Others still continued their verbal assaults at the paladin, the knights, and the entirety of the Alliance.
One of the rebelling laborers stepped forward through the crowd. He was a giant compared to the others and even slung a large club across his shoulders to complete the look. His tattered miner's clothing contrasted greatly to Daellin's glorious set of plate armor. He pointed his club at the Silver Hand knight and asked, "If ye' mean no harm, then why did ye' kill our folk? It's one thing ta' kill a man armed with a pick, it's another ta' kill women and children as they sleep!"
This statement stunned Daellin tremendously. Yes, he had heard about the engagement between the local guards and the rebelling miners the other day, yet nothing of women and children being killed. Daellin turned back to the captain, slightly concerned that his head would be struck with his attention away from the crowd. The captain remained steadfast and his stone cold face did not provide any further information. Without any support from the local officer, Daellin turned back to face the giant miner. "There must be some sort of mistake. The knights have done nothing of the sort," he replied.
The crowd grew back to its level of disorder from earlier. In fact, the accusation of murdered innocents only added fuel to the fire. Even more objects were tossed at Daellin and the ranks of knights behind him. The giant miner took another step closer to the paladin with his club now pointing at the paladin. "Lies! We saw it wit' our own eyes last night and took ta' knight that did it," the miner bellowed then motioned with his free hand to the crowd. A small opening grew in the crowd with two of the rioters carrying a limp body in their arms. They tossed the man to the ground between Daellin and the crowd; his limbs flopped in unnatural directions and beaten to a pulp. The bloodied armor and tabard matched the traditional garb of an Alliance soldier. Through the faceguard of the helmet, Daellin could make out the rough details of a young man's swollen face. The men that carried out the dead man also haphazardly tossed a bloodied sword that landed next to the corpse.
"That's Jamison!" a Tyr's knight shrieked from the defensive ranks. A few other knights whispered amongst themselves with horror in their eyes. Some reached for their sheathed swords.
"These bastards," the large miner said as he turned his club's direction from Daellin to the Tyr's Hand knights as he took another step closer, "killed my friends. Our families. We won't help an Alliance that kills their own!"
Daellin instinctively grasped the pommel of his sheathed sword and took a half-step backwards. Thoughts raced through his mind at lightning speed. He tried to rationalize the situation at hand. He heard nothing of these murder accusations from the courier or from the local captain. Furthermore, there was nothing said about a missing Tyr's soldier. The lack of clarity was damning.
A collective shriek of horror from the crowd broke Daellin's concentration as everyone in the street turned their attention to the source. In the front of the crowd, a few ladies were screaming as they tried to hold up another woman. A bolt had penetrated her neck, drenching her entire body in blood and preserving the same dull expression in her eyes. It was clear that death was next to instantaneous.
All hell broke loose. Before Daellin or any of the knights could react, the rioters stormed forward, tools raised menacingly high. Daellin had but a moment to unsheathe his sword to parry the giant miner's crushing blow with his crude club. The impact of the strike made him stumble a few feet backwards with his bones rattling to the core. Before Daellin could regain his composure, the miner went in for another blow. This time, Daellin awkwardly rolled under the swing. With the miner searching for his prey, the paladin quickly ran to his defensive ranks.
The rest of the crowd, men and women alike armed only with tools and without combat armor, had already clashed with the knights. The knights, much like Daellin, were woefully unprepared for this onslaught despite their advantage in combat expertise. What the rioters lacked in skill, they made up for in sheer numbers and the fact that the Silver Hand knights were holding back. Unlike their holy counterparts, the Tyr's Hand soldiers were more apt to dispatch any rioter that came across their path.
"You had your chance, paladin! The time for diplomacy is over!" the cold captain yelled to Daellin before he slashed the midsection of a laborer. The poor man saw his own guts fly in the air before crashing down on the cobbled street. The captain's face remained emotionless.
"These are our people we are sworn to protect!" Daellin called back as he used the momentum of a rushing laborer to push him to the ground effortlessly. He then created a shield of Light around the fallen assailant to keep him restrained without inflicting further harm. The laborer weakly slammed his fists into the Holy shield but to no avail.
The captain yelled back for the last time to his paladin counterpart, "You are sworn to protect the Alliance!" He then turned to his own men and ordered, "Soldiers of the Alliance, cut down these rebels!" With this order, the Tyr's Hand soldiers turned into a well oiled fighting machine. Their deflections, dodges, and parries shifted to viscous swings and calculated blows at the lightly armored rebels. Instantly, many of the laborers and their spouses fell from the blades that had protected their city. The ground ran red.
Meanwhile, the knights under Daellin's command continued to take defensive stances and positions further in the rear. Their commander made his way to where most of them were stationed, dodging sword and ace alike. The uncertainty in their eyes told everything that Daellin needed to know.
"Hold your positions, knights," Daellin ordered. "The Light will lead us, not men willingly shedding the blood of our brothers and sisters." The knights, some more reluctant than others, complied with their leader. Thankfully for their souls, the rioters were concentrating on the Tyr's Hand soldiers, with only the occasional rioter stumbling their way to their position to be dealt with carefully. While they did not have the expertise in the Light at the same level as Daellin, the knights could still easily disarm and restrain their attackers. With his force in compliance and holding their own, Daellin turned his attention back to the fray. He gripped his sword tight as he lunged back into the chaos, determined to end this madness as soon as possible.
He wadded his way through Alliance soldiers slashing down their fellow countrymen. He spotted a few individuals knocked to the ground that were either writhing in pain or motionless. Daellin dodged sword and club alike to reach the side of a fallen commoner, a woman with a sickly complexion. Her eyes were blank and not a sound escaped her lips as she tried her best to compress her gashed abdomen. "Hold still," Daellin told her as he gently placed one hand on her wound. For a split second, he cringed from the sound of gore squishing against his hand. Shaking his head to snap out of it, he calmed his breath and channeled his connection with the Light to the wound. A light aura of white resonated from the paladin's hand and flickered to the lady's wound. After a few moments, a sense of relief fell over the lady's face as the wound stopped bleeding and the gash cauterized.
With a single tear dripping down her cheek, she meekly said, "Thank you, paladin."
"Nolan, get this woman out of here!" Daellin called back to his ranks. Nolan, his lieutenant in rank but senior in age, nodded and rushed to their location in the midst of the chaos. The two knights helped the lady up and the lieutenant guided her back to their defensive position. With another soul saved, Daellin turned back to the battleground. While only a few minutes had passed since the fighting began, there were already dozens of rioters on the ground dead. It did not surprise the paladin that the commoners outnumbered the soldiers in corpses. Among the fallen, Daellin spotted one the Tyr's Hand knights on one knee crying out in agony. Like earlier, Daellin danced his way to the knight.
The Silver Hand paladin could not immediately tell where the soldier was wounded. "Sir, where are you hurt?" Daellin asked.
The knight lifted his head to Daellin, revealing streams of tears falling down his young face. "I-I never asked for this!" he stumbled over his words. Before Daellin could respond, the young lad, no older than sixteen, grabbed for Daellin's legs and continued to ramble incoherently. Even in his armor, Daellin could feel the mess of a man shaking and dry heaving. The paladin placed his empty hand on the soldier's exposed head to comfort him while keeping his head on a swivel. Around them the riot was still unfolding. Suddenly, a chorus of angry yells pierced the chaos. Daellin turned his attention down the main street, where many side roads from the residential district intersected, and saw a wave of more rioters. At least another two dozen commoners, armed with clubs, picks, or mallets, were rushing towards their position like wolves set on their prey. While the Tyr's knights had whittled the numbers of rioters, these reinforcements would be a strong obstacle to overcome. Daellin only saw more blood that would spill amongst countrymen.
The paladin was too concerned with the second wave of rioters that he did not spot an incoming club until just before it was too late. With the frightened knight still wrapped around his legs, Daellin crouched down under the swing. He felt the whoosh of air brush against his cheek. With all of his might, he pushed himself away from the sobbing knight and rolled away. He located the source of the club blow- the giant miner from before. The miner grunted, displeased in his miss, and turned his full attention to the quaking Tyr's Hand knight, sprawled out on the ground.
Daellin saw malice burning in the miner's eyes and knew what he was about to do. "Stop!" Daellin yelled. Alas, it was too late to change the rioter's mind. He swung his club, making direct contact against the soldier's exposed back. The distinct sound of cracked armor accompanied his short yelp before lumping over on the ground, face down. His body twitched and low groans of agony escaped his lips as the miner stepped over the crumbled knight. After a few spasms, the soldier's body remained still.
"See how weak t'is Alliance is? We would be fine protectin' ourselves against 'te orcs, yet you came here ta' take our hardwork and murder us in cold blood," the miner grumbled as he lumbered to his next target. Protecting himself, Daellin raised his sword to block the incoming attack. The miner brought his club down on the sword, aiming to overpower his opponent's defense. Miraculously, Daellin held fast. The paladin's face cringed from holding up the immense amount of weight pressed on his sword as he recited a prayer. The Holy Light flowed through his muscles and veins, granting him the strength to push the club back to his attacker. The giant stumbled momentarily before returning his death glare back at the paladin.
"Enough of this!" Daellin roared. "Too many have died for nothing! End this!" Daellin pleaded with the miner. Simultaneously with his plea, the second wave of rioters clashed into the mess of humanity, joining their brothers and sisters in fighting the Alliance guards. The Silver Hand, too, faced a resurgent amount of resistance, all the while tending to the wounded on both sides.
The miner cracked his back and rolled his shoulders, clearly unamused by Daellin's plea. "End this occupation, paladin," the giant spat. Without warning, he lunged at Daellin with his club held low, hoping for an opening around the legs or midsection. Daellin had seen a more elegant version of this maneuver from Uther when he was an aspirant. Like then, the paladin channeled the Light through his body, this time focusing on his legs. When the club was just about to hit his side, he leapt with all of his might over the club while making sure to stay in front of the miner. The giant's height and his massive club's reach made it impossible to jump over him like Daellin would have done over his fellow aspirants in Stratholme.
Despite the magnificent leap, the miner was not deterred. If anything, this only only egged the giant on more. With every blow from the miner, the more it dawned on Daellin that his opponent would not be backing down from this confrontation. The swings showed blind fury- the kind that showed that any attempt at peaceful discourse was out the window. He had to subdue him and end this senseless battle as soon as possible. Before the miner could stage another attack, Daellin made the first move. He ran to his right to encircle the miner, continuing to channel the light to empower his movement. The giant did not have the reflexes to keep up with the paladin and before he could mount a defense, the paladin went in. Daellin turned his sword in his hands so that the blunt side would make direct contact. The blow crashed across the miner's ribs, causing him to bend over in pain. The paladin repeated his attack to the other side of his opponent's ribcage, forcing the miner to crash down and double over in pain.
Daellin, standing stall, stepped on the miner's hand holding the monstrous club, forcing him to let go of his weapon. "Please, tell your people to end this," Daellin pleaded to his defeated adversary. The sincerity in his words was palpable.
The miner looked up to the paladin, grating his teeth intensely. Anger burned in his eyes like coal in a fire. "Not until we are free," he growled back.
Still looking down at his defeated foe, Daellin struggled with what the miner just said. Before Daellin could reply, a splatter of blood painted across his armor. A large broadsword pierced through the miner's back with a clean exit wound just below his sternum. The giant's eyes widened for a moment, then shrunk. His entire body went limp and glided an inch down the sword. Daellin's eyes were much like the shocked giant's as he slowly looked up. Still holding the grip of the sword that plunged into the rioter, the captain of the Tyr's Hand knights stood triumphantly.
The captain kicked the miner's body to pull out his sword. "My thanks, paladin, for bringing that monster down. Come, let us finish this rebellion," he said to Daellin as he flicked the blood from his sword. Content with the cleanliness of his sword, the captain walked away from the paladin and downed giant. As the city's captain sauntered away, he turned one last time to Daellin and said, "Oh, where are my manners? I never told you my name! It is Valdelmar. Lord Valdelmar." Daellin could not find the words to respond.
Much like how the second wave of rioters announced their presence with a chorus of beastial yells, a similar sound emerged from the entrance gates of Tyr's Hand. Daellin turned to see a battalion of Alliance soldiers storming into the city to reinforce the city's guard. Daellin remained motionless, completely numb, as he watched dozens of Alliance soldiers, clad in plate and sword, crash into the fray, forcing the remaining peasants to attempt a disorganized retreat. It went poorly.
From behind Daellin, in the midst of chaos and loud commotion, Nolan walked up to his commander and asked, "Orders, sir?" The lieutenant's voice showed no emotion but Daellin knew that was for appearances.
Daellin looked back down to the miner that caused him so much hardship only moments ago. Even lying on the ground dead, his stature was as imposing as ever. After a few moments of looking into the miner's wide eyes, he slowly came back to reality. He turned to see his regiment of Silver Hand knights fully accounted for. They all looked up to their superior with a mixture of confusion and sorrow, much like Daellin himself. He then surveyed the wide main street that served as a battleground for the brief engagement. It was no epic scene like the war stories of Arathor that mothers tell their children at the bedside. While the fighting lasted for only a few minutes, dozens of bodies littered the area like withered weeds in a garden. Most of these weeds were motionless; a few wheezed and grumbled in pitiful agony.
Daellin's voice croaked, "Help the survivors on both sides." A few eternal moments passed until he added, "and prepare last rites."