( Author's Note: For those of you who have left reviews, thank you! I admit I'm a sucker for compliments, and it's always encouraging to know that people are enjoying my work. Cheers! )

Two long minutes later, Tamm blustered into the Lion's Pride and slammed the heavy oaken door behind him with a loud thump. He drew a ragged breath and yanked his fingers through his hair, which did nothing to tame its bedraggled appearance. With a snort of annoyance, he straightened and began stomping heavily up the stairs, berating himself for running away from a woman -- a woman who, he was fairly certain, had been laughing at him when his back was turned.

"Rather in a hurry to see me, aren't you?"

The clipped, polished tones of Symion were, at this moment, less welcome to him than the snarling of orcs. Tamm looked up grudgingly to see Symion standing at the top of the staircase, one hand on the railing and the other on his hip. For a man who had been half-conscious on the floor of his room only an hour ago, he looked remarkably well. His clothing was immaculate, his hair perfectly coifed, and his smile both dazzling and smug.

"Just returning from a walk," snorted Tamm, brushing past him. "Praying for yoursoul, I might add."

"Good chap," drawled Symion, leaning lazily over the railing to look at those below. "I can feel the debauchery leaving me already."

The two entered into the tiny room that had served as their room for the past week, and Tamm began haphazardly tossing things into a rucksack. "What you need," he announced to the air, "Is a bit of hard work. This filthy place has got you thinking of nothing but ale and -- women."

Symion nodded cheerfully at this.

"So," Tamm continued, his voice low and solemn as if he were giving a sermon, "It's time we return to Redridge. The gnoll trouble there is getting worse, from what I hear, and of course Stormwind can't spare anyone." His voice had grown lower, and his eyes darker; if not for the copy of The Light's Lovingkindness in his hands, he would have looked quite intimidating.

Across from him, Symion seemed to lose his smile for a moment, his mood apparently changing with Tamm's. "The soldiers are all too busy being bribed by the nobles to help, I suppose?"

"Likely."

"Well, it's clearly our moral duty to rush bravely into battle for the good of mankind and all that," said Symion, tapping his nose knowingly. "For the moment I'll pretend it has nothing to do with you wanting me killed."

This earned a grunt from Tamm, who was surveying the area. It wasn't as bad as it could have been; the furniture was still intact. The muddy tracks around the room didn't add much to its appearance, but that could hardly be helped. One of the paintings was just a bit off-center, and the rug was bunched up by the door--

"If you'd rather stay, then by all means…"

Giving the painting just the slightest tweak to the left, Tamm tromped out the door with Symion following at his heels. "It's really a shame to leave, you know," said the latter, who had been keeping up a running commentary on the virtues of Goldshire for the past several minutes. "The pickings here are rather good. Even the street urchins -- that Iyona is something of a looker, wouldn't you say?"

No sooner could Tamm sputter, "Not at all -- ridiculous -- totally inappropriate!" than he felt a tap on the shoulder. The two men turned to see Valandris, beaming up at them as though her dearest friends had just turned up for a spot of tea. "Hello!"

"Ah, Val," grinned Symion, smoothly positioning himself between Tamm and Valandris. "I was just telling Tamm here what a looker you are! He disagreed, but of course, he's never been known for his taste in women."

Both the noblewoman and paladin turned red; the former blushing the delicate pink of a lady trying not to seem as flattered as she is, and the latter turning the vivid shade of red reserved for those who would rip off his friend's head, if he could get away with it.

"I would stay to apologize for Simon's manners, Lady Valandris, but we're both needed in Redridge and should be--"

"Oh, to fight the wolf-men?" gasped Valandris eagerly, clapping her hands together. "I should come with you! -- May I? I'm a mage, you know, and have been looking for a chance to better myself, and…"

After enduring a short speech all about Valandris's family and connections and their expectations of her, and after a short argument between Tamm and Symion over the virtue of allowing her along, the two finally managed to leave Goldshire and head east.

The journey to Redridge was uneventful. As the sky darkened, the terrain grew rougher and the animals fiercer. When teasing Tamm grew old, Symion took to straying off the path for what he called "big game hunting." This consisted of taking aim at a spider with his crudely-crafted boomstick, missing terribly, and scaring off all the wildlife in a mile with the ensuing explosion. Whether or not he actually hit his targets was of little consequence; he enjoyed himself immensely until Tamm dragged him back to the road.

The sun was just dipping below the crimson hills as a rusted sign saying Lakeshirecame into view, creaking as it swayed in the breeze. Past it, narrow streets wove haphazardly between buildings that had clearly seen better days and splayed out towards dusty patches of soil that might be gardens. It was a far cry from Goldshire; there was no song on the air, no line of merrymakers trouping to the inn or merchants hawking their wares. The only people to be seen were a few poorly-outfitted guards looking to the mountains, the light of their lanterns illuminating their haggard faces.

Silence hung heavy in the night air, broken only by the grunts of pigs and the soft lapping of water on the shores of the lake. Skulking several paces behind Tamm as they entered the city, Symion had fallen unusually quiet, his few attempts at humor falling rather flat. The sight of the shabby little town seemed to have cowed him, or perhaps it was simply the exhaustion of the journey setting in.

"Cheerful little place, this," he muttered, shouldering his pack and stepping gingerly over a mud puddle.

The road sloped gently upwards, gradually widening and leading to a square of sorts. It was neither an attractive nor welcoming sight; with crates stacked five feet high and rotting planks of wood strewn about, the area seemed like something of a warehouse. At the far end of the square stood what was clearly the grandest building in town. Towering above everything else at three stories high, it was remarkably well-kept, down to the last flower in the window-boxes.

Pushing through the double swinging doors, they were greeted by a wave of warm air and the quiet murmur of conversation. The room was large and well-lit, filled with rows of tables covered in red-checkered tablecloths. Those gathered seemed a decent, respectable lot, with friendly faces and simple clothing. A few offered nods in the way of the newcomers, others smiled.

The change in Symion was almost immediate; either the coziness of the tavern or the presence of women turned him quickly back into his smiling, winsome self. In a matter of moments he was working his way into the crowd, setting a somewhat jagged course for the pretty barmaid making eyes at him.

"Tosscobble?"

The reedy voice at Tamm's elbow caused him to jump. He turned to see a tiny, wrinkled woman with pristine white hair and smiling eyes. "Ah, I thought it was you," she said, patting his elbow. "It's been ages, child!"

"Miss Perelli." Tamm bowed somewhat stiffly, rather hindered by his armor and bags. "You're looking well."

Waving away the comment with a quiet laugh, Alina Perelli glided towards a small table by the fire and motioned for Tamm to be seated. She moved quite gracefully for someone of her age and her manners were those of a woman who is used to quietly getting her way. "You'll have to forgive me for setting upon you like this so soon after you arrived, but you can hardly blame me, can you? Really, dear, I was starting to worry. I had half a mind to march over to Westfall and hunt you down."

Lowering himself into a chair that was just a bit too small, Tamm bit back a groan of exhaustion. "Actually," he began, trying to find a way to fit his legs under the table, "I left Westfall some time ago. The militia seems to have the situation under control there, and I've been allowing the Light to lead me where I'm needed the most."

Noting the strain in his voice, Alina steepled her fingers together and studied the young man quietly. He was staring at the wilted flower on the table between them, his eyes hooded with weariness and his mouth set in a thin line. "That's nice," she said gently. "Who is your friend?"

Tamm glanced towards Symion, who was predictably chatting with the prettiest women in the room. Apparently he had just said something very witty; all of the girls were laughing, their high-pitched giggles floating towards him. It was a sight Tamm was well-used to, but at the moment it was heavily grating on his nerves. "Symion Turindale," he muttered, rubbing his temples and loathing the name.

"You didn't meet him in the church, I take it?"

"Elwynn. Some time ago."

Alina smiled. "I take it the two of you didn't come all this way just to see me?"

"Er," stammered Tamm, blinking incredulously at her. "We came because I heard there is a, er, war. Here."

"Oh, it's not so bad," murmured Alina, waving a hand carelessly. "Some of the clashes are a bit rough, but I suppose that's everywhere these days."

A sudden urge of intense dislike for the little woman surged up in Tamm. Ten years ago, a younger and more sprightly Alina had been patting his hand, saying, "Those Defias aren't so bad, dear. Petty bandits, that's all. You'll find people like them anywhere."

And so the Lady Perelli had lived happily in her own world of lace and porcelain, blissfully unaware of the things happening outside her very doorstep. It didn't matter if ten hundred soldiers died defending the land on which her pretty little house was built, as long as she could continue to sip her tea and pretend all was right.

The legs of Tamm's chair protested loudly as he shoved away from the table and rose abruptly to his feet. "It's rather late, Miss Perelli; I should look into finding a room."

"Of course, dear," smiled Alina, oblivious to the loathsome stare Tamm was directing at her. "Perhaps you and your friend can drop by for tea tomorrow; it's such lovely weather…"