General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

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Fallen Paladins

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The plan went smoothly -- Coran and Nalia slipped inside the Order and quickly located Anarg's cup. Within minutes they'd ran back outside, fleeing away from the building as quickly as they could, waiting until they were clear of the Temple District before pausing to catch their breath. Although they knew they had been in no real danger, the elation and adrenaline were still present, and as their eyes met they both lapsed into laughter. Coran moved closer to her, his arm rising slowly to her hair, but she carefully moved away with a small smile on her lips.

"We need to find Anarg," she pointed out. He nodded, sighing as she turned and led the way towards the Bridge District. The walk was in silence after that -- she avoided his gaze, carrying a strange expression with her, despite his frequent glances over. It was only when voices drifted into their hearing, just as they crossed into the district, that they actually made eye contact again -- but this time their eyebrows were raised in concern.

"Over here," said Coran softly, leading her to the side of a house, where they carefully made their way along, peering around the corner to the open land beyond it. Several tall, armoured figures were standing there, seemingly having some sort of disagreement with the swarthy hooded men facing them off. Nalia poked Coran in the side, causing him to grimace slightly at the sharpness of her gesture.

"That's the one that was in the Temple of Helm," she whispered, pointing to the central armoured man. He was tall and proud looking -- long blonde hair hanging down past his broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes that were studying the man addressing him. Coran nodded slightly, noticing Nalia's slightly dreamy expression as she looked at the fallen paladin. He rolled his eyes slightly, taking her hand firmly in his and preparing to move away when the voices got louder.

"We shall not allow you to continue your depredations here, Rindus. Take your men and begone... your smuggling will be tolerated no longer."

Nalia pulled her hand free, turning back to the scene. Coran did likewise; the man called Rindus seemed to be sniggering from beneath his hood.

"Tolerated, eh? You better be able to back your words up, big man. You're going to die trying to take my turf."

The armoured man snorted. "We have no interest in your 'turf', and it is only proof of your limited mind that you think this is so."

"Hah! What, are you trying to convince me that you're still part of the Order, eh, Reynald? You still think you're some kind of goody-goody paladin, eh?" Reynald stiffened, his eyes turning colder as Rindus continued. "You know what I hear? I hear you lost your paladin-hood due to some moxie that seduced and used you like a patsy! What was her name, now? Celestine, wasn't it?"

"You know nothing of her, fool!" hissed Reynald, the knuckles on his hand turning white as he gripped the hilt of his sword. "And while I may no longer meet the Order's standards, I'll not stand by and listen to a cur such as you cheapen Celestine's name!"

"Oh, aye? I suppose you're here under that Anarg's orders, are you then? Thinking he's still upholding the righteousness of it all, eh?" Rindus' voice was extremely mocking by now. "You're a fool if you believe him -- he sends you out to get rid of his competition, feeding you stories about how you're still living up to your oath!"

"Your evil lies-"

"You'd have to be blind to not see it!" exclaimed Rindus. "How many bands of smugglers and brigands have you so mercilessly taken down? And what effect has it had? None! Do you know why?" The smuggler was shouting now, walking slowly towards Reynald at the same time. "Because your so-called leader takes over the business vacated, keeping it cleverly from the eyes of his blind servants who foolishly think they're still serving the good causes of the city!"

The sun glinted off Reynald's sword as it struck down Rindus, signalling the start of a fracas between the two sets of men. The smugglers heavily outnumbered the former paladins, and it wasn't soon before the armoured men were backed up into a corner.

"We have to do something," whispered Nalia, a frown creasing her face.

Coran nodded, pulling his bow free from his back and notching up an arrow. The first shot managed to fell one of the rogues, the second shot caused a severe wound and a small wave of panic to settle over them as they realised they were being attacked from behind.

Nalia had begun murmuring as Coran gaped at her. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "The Cowled Wizards-"

But he was too late -- her spell went off, and the fear cantrip rippled through the hooded men, causing many to flee in panic. The fallen paladins were easily able to turn the tide of the battle, leaving Coran and Nalia to watch with dismay as the air around them rippled. To both their surprise, only one cowled figure appeared.

"This is an unsanctioned use of magical energy. You will not be warned again."

"Wait!" exclaimed Coran as the figure shimmered. "We wish to acquire a license!"

The man frowned -- he was quite old with white hair and a bushy beard. His wrinkled hands held tightly onto a gnarled staff, and he regarded them suspiciously for a few moments before answering. "You may apply for one in the Council of Six building," he replied curtly, disappearing in a flash of light. Nalia stared at Coran.

"You mean it?"

The elf nodded solemnly. "If you're going to randomly start using magic in public areas, I think it would be safest," he remarked grimly, nodding to the blonde-haired fallen paladin as he approached. Reynald bowed his own head in return.

"Greetings to you, friend," he said. "I am grateful for your aid against these dogs, and would know your name if you are willing to give it."

"I'm Coran -- this is my... friend, Nalia." The mage bobbed a small curtsey, pinking slightly. Coran peered at her curiously.

"Well met, Coran. I am Reynald de Chatillon, once of the Order and now under the leadership of Anarg. I believe he has mentioned your name before -- you are the youngsters he entrusted a serious mission to?"

Coran nodded. "We have been successful with the task -- we were on our way to return the cup when we passed here and heard the voices."

Reynald nodded and sighed. He turned back to his men -- they were standing together, their faces betraying no emotion. He nodded to them and they relaxed, slowly moving closer to the strangers to stand beside their leader, and he returned his attention to the two thieves.

"You will have heard the words spoken against our commander, then," he said quietly. "It has... been distressing for us to hear. Although our loyalty lies with Anarg truly, it is not the first time we have heard such accusations spoken. We are in the same... predicament, regarding our status in the Order, for a variety of reasons -- but none of us wish to associate with anything that is true in these rumours."

"Understandable," said Nalia soothingly. Reynald smiled at her.

"We intend to return to Anarg now and bring our fears up with him. If they prove to be true... then we will have no choice but to stand up to him," he continued. "We do not wish to involve you in this, but now we know you are in possession of his cup… we would ask you to hold onto it until we have concluded our own business. For the sake of all that is good -- if there is even a shred of truth to these allegations, he does not deserve to have such an item returned to his possession."

Coran sighed internally. "Of course," he said reluctantly. "We will do whatever we can to help in this, though Anarg was to aid us in return-"

Reynald smiled. "Yes -- your departure from the city to be together?" His gaze switched to Nalia. "If that is still what you seek, then regardless of the outcome, we shall endeavour to fulfil it for you."

Coran was sure Nalia's skin had definitely become redder than normal, and the girl seemed to shyly avert her gaze from the handsome warrior, twirling a strand of her brown hair in her fingers idly. "That's not important," she murmured, her eyes drifting back up to Reynald's beaming smile. "We'll help you however we can, then see what happens."

The former paladin nodded. "Then let us return to Anarg!" he announced. "We shall see what the truth is."

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To say Anarg was disappointed in the doubt his men showed in him would have been an understatement. He glared at Reynald, avoiding the question for as long as possible while the rest of the men shifted uncomfortably, their hands hovering over the hilts of their weapons. Coran and Nalia had also gone inside -- well; Nalia had, and Coran had no choice but to follow. They were standing in the corner when Anarg finally had enough, drawing his own sword out and demanding that the other fallen paladins show him the respect he deserved.

"Allay our fears," insisted Reynald determinedly, "and we will swear our lives to your cause, of that you can be certain. Why do you not deny these falsehoods? Surely if they are untrue, you would not... need to... avoid..." The blonde-haired man's words trailed off as his eyes narrowed. He stared at Anarg in disbelief. "All this time... we've heard rumour of why you left the Order -- rumour that seemed to be so wrong because we knew you stood against such things! Against slavery and corruption! We helped you defend the city against it even after your expulsion -- after our own departings... but it's true, isn't it? We have done nothing but to make it easier for your own operation to thrive?"

Anarg threw his head back and laughed hard. "I wondered if you'd ever come to realise," he said eventually, staring emotionlessly back at his second in command. "But it's not so bad, is it? We are still helping the city -- we rid the streets of the unsavoury villains who seek to deal in grief and misery. And when they are gone, to prevent anyone else filling the role, my own band of men takes over the business. That way we know what is happening -- we can control it, because it will never be gone -- not fully! This city thrives on everything the foolish Order stands against! By taking it away from the masses and regulating it ourselves, we can ensure less harm is done!"

"No... this is wrong," said Reynald faintly.

"Wrong?" Anarg snorted derisively. "Where do you think the coin comes from to allow your men to visit the taverns regularly? That allows us to eat, to have roofs over our heads? Where do you think the coin comes from for you to pay your pathetic tithes to Helm? The very God that cast you from his service for what? An indiscretion? A momentary lapse in judgement?"

"No -- this is not about me!" replied Reynald angrily. "This has nothing to do with what happened to me, or about my relationship with my God! This is about you -- you lied to us, Anarg! All of us!"

"No, Reynald. You didn't want to see, so you allowed yourselves to follow blindly; so aggrieved by your dismissal from the Order, you truly believed the capability to stay so righteous -- so pompous -- was available in the guise of another group."

"And I was wrong."

Anarg nodded. "Yes, Reynald. You were. But now we are all aware -- you cannot deny that there is logic to my words. We are no longer paladins, but we can do what we can for Athkatla. We can continue to run out the vagrants operating in the city, ensuring everything falls under our command."

Reynald shook his head. "You are twisting the situation -- we may not be knights any more, but we are good men. We want no part in this... this scheme you are proposing. And we cannot stand by to let you continue it."

Anarg's eyebrow rose. "You are standing against me?"

Reynald pulled his sword free from its scabbard. "I am."

Nalia gasped as the men locked together in combat -- the other fallen knights watched silently, moving away from the immediate battle in respect for Reynald's carefully worded request to battle Anarg alone. Both were excellent swordsmen, knowing when to parry and dodge, when to lunge and strike. Openings were few, and their respective armour proved durable enough to protect them from the worst of the blows that connected.

Coran found himself looking at Nalia as the fight wore on -- she was watching Reynald with seeming entrancement; since they'd met him earlier that day, the young girl had been acting strangely. He shook his head slightly; no, she'd been strange since the morning, really -- unwilling to bring up the subject of the evening before -- to even acknowledge their intimate embrace. For that was all there had been. They'd fallen asleep side by side; she'd pulled away from him just before all control was lost, apologising quietly. He'd only shaken his head, pulling her back into his arms, and allowing her to snuggle into his chest, hearing her breath change as she fell into a deep slumber.

He'd fallen asleep himself then -- partly relieved by the outcome, but partly saddened. His will was becoming weaker -- since Maiyn's apparent infidelity he'd felt himself feeling less and less guilty about appreciating other women, about being closer to them than just a friend. About being closer to Nalia. But she had her own problems and issues to deal with -- the sudden changes she'd experienced in her life, the shock at witnessing so much death and destruction. She wanted comfort and security -- he was good with the former, but pathetically poor at the latter... except in one special case.

And no matter how much he pretended it didn't matter to him any more, that special case played on his mind more often than he cared to admit.

He was shaken from his reverie by Nalia's small squeal, and he looked up to see Reynald standing over Anarg's body, looking grimly down at the corpse.

"It is done," he said, sighing heavily. "We no longer unwittingly serve evil."

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"What are you going to do now?" asked Nalia as they filed from the house later on. Coran had decided to explain to the other men their true identity and purpose for serving Anarg -- it had also meant they didn't have to answer the awkward questions of how they'd managed to obtain his cup quite so easily.

Reynald shrugged. "First, I would like to go to the Temple of Helm and... well, explain to them, I think. If they even suspect the coin I have been donating is tarnished, they will not have been using it. I can at least try to persuade them to believe it was donated in good faith."

Nalia nodded encouragingly. "We will accompany you," she said brightly. Coran nodded when the fallen paladin looked over to him, but his expression remained dour and he lingered behind the humans as they chatted and walked through the bridge district to the temple. As he expected, Nalia entered the building, Reynald close behind her, and Coran obediently followed. He waited beside the exit as they wandered over to the priests beside the altar, watching as she hung back slightly but offered reassuring smiles to the blonde-haired man as he conversed with the clergy.

A blinding flash of light beside him made him leap to the side, stumbling as his hand instinctively tried to find the hilt of his sword. Large black spots clouded his vision, but as he squinted he could make out a vivid red colour swirling around as a body heavily fell to the ground. The elf frowned slightly, recognition flashing through his mind as he saw the large wound to the man's shoulder and heard the steps of the approaching healers.

"Edwin?" he asked incredulously.

The Thayvian's eyes flickered open briefly. "I will need a tailor!" he hissed before drifting back into unconsciousness. Coran looked up at Nalia, the girl having rushed over to see what was causing such a commotion. They exchanged a careful glance, then looked back down as the Helmites murmured the first of many healing spells over the wizard.

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Alfric carefully daubed the wet cloth over the man's forehead, frowning as he listened to the irregular rhythm of his breathing. There was no more they could do -- Lathander had blessed them with as much healing as He was willing to give, and the physical wounds had healed and mended. Whatever mental injuries the man suffered from would have to be fought and won by himself.

The young human man had only been serving as an acolyte for a week in the temple. He'd found the man unconscious outside, his green robes tattered and slightly charred, his tattooed face looking quite fearsome. The Dawnbringers had helped to get him inside, laying him here on this bed while they prayed over him. Alfric had stayed there for the afternoon after healing was done, hoping to see some sign of life.

And he did. The man's eyes shot open; wild green eyes darting around, his body tensing as he reclaimed the control over it. Alfric smiled warmly down to him, trying to appear non-threatening -- the saviour who had brought the man to safety, seen that he received the best aid he could have.

"You waken," he began gently. "You are-"

Xzar's hand shot up, his hand firmly grasping the scrawny neck that he managed to locate just underneath the infuriatingly smug child that was sneering at him. He squeezed as hard as he could -- despite having been out cold for hours, his force had returned quickly and it wasn't long before her managed to manipulate his grip. The gargled choking noise stopped and a healthy snapping noise was heard. When he let go, the body fell limply to the ground.

The necromancer sat up, quickly checking through his possessions. All his pouches seemed to be the same, and his bag was by his bed. A quick check through it showed that it had not been tampered with. He nodded to himself, satisfied, and wracked his brains as he tried to figure out just what in the Nine Hells was going on.

Montaron -- the insufferable halfling was missing. Did that have something to do with it? He frowned, then remembered. Montaron's sword driving into him over and over again -- the pain had been excruciating. But where had they been? And where were they? And why could he not remember anything about the past few years?

He moved to stand up and a ripple of weakness passed through his body, causing his knees to buckle and his head to feel light. He refused to sit, twisting himself around to clutch onto the bed with his bony hands, forcing himself to remain standing. Eventually it passed, but he was left feeling slightly drained -- he put it down to the injuries he'd suffered, muttering darkly to himself about how much he'd enjoy making Montaron pay for his backstabbing. Quietly he moved to the door of the chamber, cautiously peering out to the darkened corridor. There was no one in sight, so he took his chance, quickly walking towards the large chamber at the far end.

Within minutes he was outside, having ignored the priest who tried to ask if he was all right, and pushing past the guard who'd moved to block his passage. Now he was moving swiftly along the roads of Athkatla, only vaguely aware of where he was from the few fuzzy memories he was able to remember. He'd found enough coin in his pouch to see him through a few days -- first he needed to find an inn and get some rest. Then he needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

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Valygar just looked inquisitively over as Coran and Nalia arrived back at the Seas' Bounty, Edwin limping along between them, an arm around each of the thief's necks. He was murmuring incoherently as they passed, taken to his room and deposited unceremoniously onto his bed to allow him to sleep off the final effects of his injuries before they returned to the stalker.

"Interesting day, then?" the ranger asked with a twinkle in his eye. Coran grinned in return.

"You could say that," he nodded. "We broke into the Order as they'd planned for us to do, stole the cup, went to meet Anarg-"

"Then we met Reynald," interrupted Nalia cheerfully. Coran tutted slightly.

"Yes, then we met Reynald -- the man Nalia had spied in the temple," he explained to a bewildered looking Valygar. "He was with the rest of the fallen paladins, standing off against some smugglers, who revealed that Anarg was actually getting rid of all the rogues in the city to take over their businesses himself. So Reynald killed him, and his men helped him kill the other smugglers-"

"And we helped," added Nalia proudly.

"-and we all returned to Anarg who more or less admitted it. Then he fought with Reynald and Reynald won."

Nalia scowled disapprovingly. "It was more than just a fight," she muttered, turning back to the amused looking ranger. "You should have seen them! They were so strong -- Anarg was a fierce warrior, but Reynald was so skilled and nimble..." The mage spent the next few minutes describing the scene vividly.

"It sounds like it was exhilarating," replied Valygar politely. "But what will they do now? And what of the cup?"

"We plan to return to cup to Ajantis tomorrow," said Coran, trying to stifle a yawn after Nalia's gushing recount. "As for Reynald... well, I am sure Nalia can fill you in."

Valygar's content expression wavered slightly for a few moments, but his smile returned as he faced back to Nalia, and the mage wasted no time in filling him in.

"Well, since they can't return to the Order, and although the priests at the temple of Helm were more sympathetic than we thought they would be, I wondered if they'd like to join the guard at my home -- after all, since the trolls invaded we've been down a number of men, and it's not much for them, but it'd provide them with shelter and stability for a while, and they accepted! So they know we are to see Quayle's friend, Coran said we'd do that tomorrow, and in a few days time I agreed that we'd accompany them back to my lands and let them meet Captain Arat! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Ah, indeed," ventured the ranger, chancing a glance at Coran. The elf just shrugged helplessly.

"Well anyway," smiled Nalia. "I need to go to bed to get rest for tomorrow." She paused and looked coyly to Coran. "Are we keeping the same sleeping arrangements? It would seem to be a terrible waste of energy to swap back again with Valygar if we're only going to be here another night or two..."

Coran stared at her for a few seconds then cleared his throat. "Er, it is up to you both," he finally managed. "Either way is... fine by me."

Nalia smiled and nodded. "Well, it's getting late," she declared rather forcefully. "I think we should all retire, don't you agree?"

The men exchanged a look, but stood immediately and followed as she led them upstairs. Then she wished a good night to Valygar, disappearing into Coran's room as the two men watched. Valygar raised his eyebrow.

"She's... being strange," he noted.

"Isn't she?" agreed Coran, for his own reasons. "Well... we'll see you downstairs tomorrow morning, I guess."

Valygar nodded and stalked off, leaving the thief to slip into his room. Nalia had already swiftly changed into her bedclothes, and was perched on the edge of his bed, smiling up to him. He returned her smile rather dubiously, then slowly prepared himself for retiring, pulling back the blanket of his bed and signalling for her to go under if she wanted. She did, and she cuddled back into his embrace as they lay down. It wasn't long before she was asleep in his arms, but he lay awake for a long time.

He was very confused.