Chapter 24 - Foresight

The grand templum of the Four was an ancient, towering place. While it was just one of the dozens of temples and chapels in the capital, it was held in particular regard because of its history. Legend had it that the grand templum was personally commissioned by the first King of Re-Estize, beseeching the Four to grant him their favor for a long and fruitful reign.

As such, the templum held a ritual importance quite apart from its religious significance. It was here that the primary religious services were held, where the chief ministers and men of office observed the feast days and holy days. Here, the nobility and highborn were anointed, married, and seen to their rest.

Of course, that meant that the common people rarely got a chance to darken the grand templum's doors. It preferred a better class of petitioner - Preferably one with deeper pockets.

Naturally, lesser buildings - dormitories, almshouses, beneficent chapels and church schools - had sprung up in the grand templum's shadow, clustering around its skirts. There, the needs of the not-quite-as-rich were catered to; the common and the less fortunate craved salvation as much as their betters, if not more so.

Though far smaller than the grand templum, the church was still an impressive vault. The narrow dome was painted with gilt figures of the saints and worthies against a white field - Together with the clear-glass windows, it made the place seem much lighter and brighter than the great temple. But it was also clear that it had been neglected in favour of its more splendid neighbour; the stone flooring underfoot was worn, the slabs cracked and uneven.

Like the rest of Re-Estize, it had seen better days.

Miss Ronble had been exceedingly helpful. According to her, Roberdyck had given his address as a certain church; That had been enough to go on, and I'd thanked her for it.

The next half-hour had passed pleasantly enough. We'd talked - Or rather, she'd talked. Mostly, I'd listened to her stories about life in the capital (expensive, but she liked it), her job at the Guild (she was in her second year now, and the shine hadn't quite worn off yet) and her co-workers (Some of the others were a little standoffish, but Wina was so kind to her). How she always wanted to go on an adventure someday; Nothing serious, but just to say that she had done it.

After that late breakfast, I'd walked her back to the Guild, where she'd favored me with a fetching smile and a soft "Will I see you again, Sir Samuel?"

Faced with her smiling face, I'd lied and said yes.

Don't judge me. Anyone would have.

Isphen's face had lit up. I'd offered her my right arm, and we'd been walking along companionably enough; but now, a subtle shift of her form pressed herself against me, as she arched her neck to murmur-

"Don't keep me waiting~"

...before she'd pulled away, as if startled by her own boldness. She'd paused at the doors of the Guild, looking back once - Before she'd vanished inside.

I'd never felt like more of a heel.

"The problem with Greed is that it promises everything, but delivers nothing! The problem of Greed is that it blinds you!"

The priest was a man in his fifties; Salt-and-pepper hair, still robust, with a full, rich booming voice that echoed over from the walls. His sermon rumbled along like a freight train - Powerful, but predictable.

The place was about three-quarters full. I'd arrived early, seating myself on one of the pews at the back. I'd received curious looks as the rest of the parishioners had filed in, but none had approached or questioned me.

"Consider the Eight Greed Kings; Taller than the sky, with the likenesses of dragons! They had the world cowering at their feet...But their vices turned them against each other, for each coveted what the other had!"

I've never been religious. In the days spent aboard the Dawnbreaker, I'd watched Gustav at prayer, and read through the holy books of the Four - more through boredom than anything else - and I'd yet to receive any insight.

Perhaps I was just too cynical. In the world I'd known, religion was just another commodity, and the megacorporations had taken their cut. My mother had been an observant watcher of the Hour of Catheric Power, but Samuel and I had mostly let it fade into the background of our hard-scrabble lives.

Already, we'd known that what mattered was the here and now. The long, long mourning after would take care of itself.

But here, things were different. I'd seen Kelart and Jozan work miracles, matter-of-factly; they'd summoned angels to their aid, healed wounds, blast enemies back with invocations to the Four. Their gods were very much alive - There was no murky uncertainty here, just a quiet confidence in the natural order of things.

"The vice of Greed is the most treacherous of all, for it tells us that too much is never enough. No matter what, you can never quit taking - No rest, no surchease, only endless grasping. But the Four are all-encompassing; the rewards of faith are endless and bottomless and eternal, and only Their grace can soothe the soul."

I was listening with half a ear, as I looked down at my gloved hands. With my armor in storage, I had time to puzzle over the long list of modifiers and bonuses that scrolled along the corner of my vision, trying to make sense of it all.

It was like a koan, like trying to decipher a riddle from the answer. Samuel, I had no doubt, had optimized himself for the twin goals of survival and victory; I had to understand why he'd chosen the things he had.

What they meant for me.

The crowd murmured, shifting in their seats. It was a comfort to them, I think; to take poverty for frugality, to hold want as virtue. I supposed that here, as with everywhere else, the comfort of religion is in how it helps you cope with the truth of your circumstances.

"The truth is that we can get all we need, more than we could ever deserve, for nothing. Just for believing. Just for accepting our place, for placing our trust in the Four. Seek the Four Graces, and hold them foremost in your mind, wherever your path takes you!"

It had taken me this long to realize that my armor was not a single entity, but multiple discrete pieces combined into a gleaming suit of mithril plate. How long it'd taken Samuel to assemble this, I had no idea; Why he'd chosen mithril - apparently the softest of the ultra-rare metals, a grade beneath the Prismatic Ores ubiquitous to endgame content - I had no idea. It was all I could do to review each individual component, taking mental notes.

Some were easy enough to decipher; A cuirass that granted greater protection against 'Evil' opponents (though how that was defined, I had no idea.) Gauntlets that passed on their blessing to any weapon I wielded, inflicting more damage against 'Evil'. Runes in the breastplate that let the entire ensemble heal itself, the way I'd seen before - Rents sealing, the way a smile slowly fades.

I'd been looking for a helmet, but apparently I already had one. The head slot mentioned something about three forms: Falcon, gryphon and raven, whatever that meant. Like an idiot, I - briefly - felt around for it, then pretended to cough into the palm of my hand when I got odd looks.

The rest were just puzzling. Vambraces that reduced an opponent's Karma every time I was attacked? Sabatons that boosted a Judgement skill (almost lost in the bewildering shuffle of numbers), that did nothing except to lower Karma even more? The gorget did the exact opposite for me, every time I hit something-

And so on and so forth.

There were synergies here. Synergies and dualities - But, here and now, I was struggling to make sense of any of it.

"Look to those who embody the Four Blessings. In this very chamber, there is one who gives freely of himself, untouched by the sin of Greed!"

A murmur rose from the crowd, prayerful and excited all at once. Distantly, I wondered how much longer this sermon would last. I'd been hoping to meet Roberdyck here, but there was no chance of making inquiries until the service was over-

"No man other than Grandmaster Samuel, Savior of Loyts!"

Heads turned. There was another murmur of wonder, every eye fixed on the priest's pointing finger as he swept out his hand-

And pointed directly at me.

Fuck, I thought, acid reflux churning in my gut. I had no idea what expression I was making, but it felt like it had frozen in place - As every face in the vast space turned instantly towards me, I felt a sudden, powerful urge to flee.

"Rise, Azure of the Nine Colors - By your presence, we are honored!"

I don't think I could have stood. My legs refused to obey me; All I could do was to stare back, aware that time was ticking away moment by moment…

A gauntleted hand settled companionably on my shoulder, so suddenly I nearly flinched away. I turned to look, caught a fleeting impression of a neatly-trimmed blonde beard and calm blue eyes, a faint smell of rust and lapping oils.

"Come, now. Up you get," my rescuer said. It took me a moment to realize that he was another cleric, an off-white surplice over his half-armor; Stocky, broad-shouldered and thoroughly reassuring, he levered me out of my seat, guiding me towards the altar. "This way, paragon."

On both sides, the chatter gained steadily in volume with each passing moment as we made our way down the aisle. I was acutely aware of the cold sweat dampening my collar, trickling down my back. How cold and clammy my hands and feet had gone, quite apart from the chill of the day.

"I-" I began, but I had absolutely no idea how to continue the sentence - Or what I'd do, when I got there. I had a sudden, powerful premonition of humiliation, as I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

"Touch the altar with your left hand," he said, sotto voce.

"What?"

"Your left hand, after you kneel. Then hand your sword to him, once he's done with the blessing."

I stared. I had so many questions, but there was no time to ask any of them. My companion gave me an encouraging nod and stepped back, his expression carefully solemn - Still, I sensed a hint of a smile, as I approached the waiting priest at the altar.

It was strangely quiet, in front of the congregation. Just the two of us, me and that regal-looking greybeard in his robes of office. "Kneel," he said, and - forewarned - I did so. I felt every eye on me, as I bowed my head; More self-conscious than I'd ever been, I reached out with my left hand, and touched the white stone of the altar.

At the approving murmur that followed, I felt the knot in my gut unclench.

"Look upon him, and see the order of things! No doubt, only acceptance. The blade of the Paladin protects the faithful...But even the greatest knight, even the Grandmaster of the Paladin Order kneels before the appointed of the Four. Shun ambition, shun greed, and let humility be your guide!"

A hand passed over me, as the priest murmured a sonorous incantation. It may have been my imagination, but I felt my skin tingle for the span of a moment, a kind of calm descending over me.

In the moment's pause that followed, I slipped my sword-belt over my head, presenting the sheathed weapon to him; Swallowing past the dryness in my mouth, I somehow mustered up the will to say...

"-I live to serve, Father."

I'm not sure if they even heard me, but the yell of applause that greeted my words was startling. The old priest, red with pride, took the Interfector and pressed it back on me, bidding me to rise - "May the Four guide you and guard you, Grandmaster," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion; "Now and forever, you will be welcome here - Here, in Re-Estize!"

Another round of cheers. An acolyte ushered me offstage, and I was glad to go; Weak with relief, I wasn't sure if my nerves could survive another moment of this. Out of sight at last, I heaved a slow sigh of relief, letting some of the tension drain away-

"That was well done."

I turned. The genial-looking cleric from before had wandered into the wings; He touched a hand to his holy symbol, then wiped at his brow. "I thought things were touch-and-go for a moment, there...But by the grace of the Four, you pulled through."

No kidding, I thought. "Thank you," I said, and meant it. "If not for your advice, I'd have-"

He shook his head, waved it away. "Don't worry about it," he said, dismissively. "Anything for a brother in the faith." There was something about him that reminded me of Brother Jozan - Physically, they couldn't have been more dissimilar, but there was a certain quiet solidity to both men that struck me as fundamental to their nature.

He gave me a sidelong look. "So you're Grandmaster Samuel," he said, curiosity in his voice. "If I may say so...Of all the churches in Re-Estize, I didn't think you'd walk into this one. I thought the grand templum would suit you better…"

"You know of me?" I couldn't help but ask, and he smiled.

"Who hasn't?" he said, broad shoulders lifting in an expansive shrug. "News travels fast, you know. The wielder of the Holy Sword of Justice! Slayer of beastmen, savior of the innocent!" He chuckled. "Father Lanzerel must've been this close to a heart attack when you walked in. Did you see his face?"

I hadn't, but I could imagine. "Actually," I began - "There's someone I'm looking for. A Brother Roberdyck; I'd heard he was lodging at this church. I don't suppose you know him?"

He blinked. Straightened, ever-so-slightly, his shoulders drawing back.

"Well, you've found him," he said, and smiled. It was a little bemused, but honest enough; his face lit up with friendly creases, as he broke into a grin.

I stared. "You?" I asked, and he chuckled again. "Serendipitous, isn't it?" Roberdyck said. "The Four move in mysterious ways, blessed be Their will. Now…" He fixed me with a look, more serious now.

"-What does the Savior of Loyts want with me?"

As it turned out, Roberdyck wasn't just willing to hear me out - He was eager. From what I understood, he was far from home; He hailed from Arwintar, capital of the Baharuth Empire, but his team had run into some trouble. They'd been forced to up stakes until the heat died down, but the offer of work they'd been chasing (an expedition into the Forest of Tobe) had turned out to be a mirage.

With the Annual War imminent, the group had been forced to settle in Re-Estize to wait out the winter. E-Rantel would have been preferable, but the Empire had agents there. Low on coin, they'd been expecting a frugal, miserable winter, with little chance of employment until the coming of spring.

And then I'd arrived, like the answer to all their prayers.

"You should meet the others," Roberdyck had said. "They'll want to hear this, too. Over a round of drinks, most likely." He'd grimaced slightly at that, as if it wasn't something he was looking forward to.

Something about his honest, forthright manner had moved me to explain: "I don't - I've got no head for alcohol," I'd lied. It was an easier explanation than the truth.

He'd laughed at that. "Oh, I think we'll get along just fine, Sir Samuel," he'd said. "This way: It's not far."

As it turned out, it was less than a half-hour walk away. We made our way from the temple district to the markets, where the air rang with the sound of wheels and the shouts of hawkers. The street of taverns wasn't far away, the tables spilling out onto the cobbles, forcing pedestrians to navigate between them. Brass emblems screwed to their tops identified the borderlines where those belonging to one establishment ended, and another's began.

Roberdyck led the way. He was less-than-familiar with the place, and it showed; Something like relief flitted across his broad features, as he glanced up at the sign overhead.

"This one," he said. "The Rusted Hawk - This time of the day, they'll be here."

Inside, the alehouse was a far cry from the Heroes' Hearth or the Gilded Arms - Smaller, coarser, lower-vaulted. At this time of the day, it was doing a decent trade; Still, I suppose one of the place's abiding virtues was that it was cheap.

I couldn't help but smile, at the thought. A few months in, and I was already becoming a tavern snob. Funny, to think of how I'd been scraping by before.

"Rober!" A hand waved across the bar. I glimpsed a wiry-looking man with a wild shock of blonde hair, a single streak of red showing in the twitching light of the colored candles. "Glad you could show. We were getting worried-" He stopped short, his easy smile turning curious.

"-Who's this?"

There were four of them, in all.

Even at a glance, it was clear that Hekkeran - Good-natured, with a swashbuckler's dash and a duelist's alert gaze - was the leader. Like Heiter, the well-worn hilts of his twin swords were never far from his grasp; They'd seen much use, but it was clear he'd kept them lovingly maintained. Whenever he moved, there was a faint jingle that told of the chainmail concealed beneath his ensemble.

I liked him immediately. It was hard not to, I felt: He carried himself with the easy competence of a man with nothing to prove, and he had a way of looking that made you feel like he was giving you the entirety of his attention.

If there was anything that might have soured me on him, it was the mace that hung from his belt, next to his needle-pointed misericorde - Even from here, I could feel the sickly aura of magic that radiated it from it, the same one I'd sensed in the Adventurer's Guild.

Another Nine Fingers counterfeit, no doubt. I wondered how much he'd paid for it.

The women were lesser-known quantities. The elf, Imina, looked nothing like the one I'd seen at Erya's side - Her ears were rounder, less pointed, her form slightly less slender beneath her hardened-leather breastplate. There was something brittle about her, something sharp-edged; She frowned when she saw me looking, and I hastily averted my gaze.

Their caster, Arche, seemed even more out-of-place. Her delicate features and small frame made her look like a child dressing up in an adult's clothes, everything seemingly oversized for her - She looked like she should've been at the Palace, waiting on Princess Renner, rather than in this beery, smoke-filled tavern.

When she'd seen me, her eyes had gone wide; She'd started, then caught herself, carefully looking away as she sipped her wine. I wondered what that was all about, but no explanation seemed forthcoming.

Roberdyck had made the introductions, curiously formal, and I'd nodded gravely at each one. Already, I felt out of place; Even outside of my armor, my (borrowed) clothing was finer than anything they were wearing, and there was an earthiness to them a million miles away from the rarefied air of Ro Lente.

"Grandmaster Samuel?" Hekkeran had echoed, glancing at Roberdyck. "You mean, the one who-"

The cleric had nodded, and Hekkeran had looked suitably impressed. "Now that's someone I never thought I'd meet," he said, pushing his flagon of ale - untouched except for a sip - to one side. "So, your Lordship...What can we do for you?"

I sensed a measured kind of wariness to him, beneath his amiability. This was a man who took care of his people, I could tell. All the while, Imina watched me like a hawk from her side of the table - Her striking violet tresses drew the eye, but I didn't dare look.

"I need some good men on retainer," I said, keeping my voice level. "Reliable men, who tell no tales and can be counted on in a fight."

Hekkeran leaned forward, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. "I see," he said, his expression giving away nothing. "And what is the job, Grandmaster?"

"For now, just to wait and stay out of sight." I said. I'd been thinking this over for a while, now; It'd occurred to me that it couldn't hurt to have a card up my sleeve. One that no-one else knew about.

Imina stirred. "And later?" she asked, evenly. The corners of her mouth had turned downward, ever-so-slightly; She didn't like this, I could tell.

I didn't waver. "I'm sure I can find something for you to do," I said. "But between you and me? I'm expecting trouble."

"In Re-Estize?"

"Could be," I said, and shrugged. I'd wondered how much I could afford to tell them, and I'd ultimately decided to err on the side of caution - If all went well, I'd have no need of them at all.

From my experience, nothing ever went that well.

Some silent communication passed between the group; Imina frowned, while Hekkeran simply looked thoughtful. Roberdyck shifted uneasily in his seat, clasping the holy symbol at his throat - But it was Arche who spoke up, with the clear elocution of someone who'd had the very best teachers.

I wondered, for a fleeting moment, what her story was.

"There is the issue of payment," she began. For some reason, I sensed a palpable tension in her, as her pale fingers curled around her staff. Roberdyck gave her a quick, concerned look, nodding along before he caught himself - there was something unspoken there, but I had no idea what.

I checked that we weren't observed, then tossed the purse to the table. Coins spilled across the rough wood, gleaming with the lustre that only pure gold could muster. Hekkeran picked up one coin between thumb and forefinger, held it to the candle flame, and stared it at for a long moment - then nodded.

"Well," he said. "That's a good start. But I have questions-"

"You misunderstand," I said. "There's more."

That caught him off-guard, I could tell.

"More?"

When I'd realized the value of Yggdrasil gold, I'd been reluctant to spend it. Call me stubborn, but everything I'd brought with me - It wasn't mine, not really. I hadn't earned it, and I always had the strangest sense I was...squandering it, somehow.

But then there were practical considerations. What I had, I knew, would have to last a lifetime. There would never be more.

If I could've known then what I was thinking now, I'd have laughed.

We'd reconvened upstairs, in a private room. With five people in the same place, even the largest suite felt cramped; Still, it was sufficient for our purposes.

When the palm-sized void of the Item Box yawned open, Roberdyck was the only one who didn't instinctively tense up. I heard Imina's sharp hiss, saw Arche's eyes widen as I reached into the portal - Even Hekkeran took a step back, hooking his thumbs in his belt.

From the cool, dust-dry innards of that lightless space, I drew forth the curving arc of an orichalcum-chased bow. It was the kind of weapon that couldn't possibly exist, seemingly carved out of a single long spine of ivory and marked with deep, acid-etched lines that glowed with an inner radiance. At my touch, the horns sparked, igniting a thin stream of fire that stretched between them; the bowstring continued to burn, shedding a fiery, flickering light as I set it down on the room's sole table.

"Firedrake," I said, and placed a quiver of polished red dragonhide next to it. Each arrow was shaped from dark, dull steel, all the way to the rigid fletchings - Imina eyed both items with mingled disbelief and something that may have been shock, slow realization dawning on her features. "The arrows explode on impact, and the quiver refills itself over time."

With a pang, I wondered what Pavel might have made of this. Whether he might have lived, if he'd been wielding this.

I brushed the thought away. A gesture summoned a clear crystal staff, like cool, dry ice to the touch; a stylized claw grasped a fist-sized sapphire, the gem smoldering. It was another impossible item that had forcibly intersected with reality, unfolded from an abstract two-dimensional representation into something that very much existed in the here and now.

"The Staff of the Heavens," I said, my expression carefully measured. As if this was something I did every day.

When I set it down, Arche's eyes actually bulged, her hand going to her mouth to smother a faint "Oh." At my nod, she reached towards it with a tentative hand, and she sighed in something like an afterglow when her slim fingers curled around it.

"It's...real," she said, thickly, with more emotion than I'd ever heard from her before. "It's the real thing…"

I didn't stop, not yet. The mace that thudded to the table was a weighty thing, adamantium haft crowned with a head fashioned from black stone. Crystal flecks shimmered in tiny constellations beneath the stone's surface, patient tics of lightning crawling across the lightless orb with the coppery smell of ozone.

Roberdyck's mouth dropped open. I don't know how he held himself back, as I set down a gold-edged mithril shield next to the mace - I don't think I could have, in his shoes.

"You're lending these to us-" Imina began, each of her eyes reflecting the Firedrake's fiery light.

"No," I said. "I'm giving these to you. They're the other half of your payment."

Now there was the hiss of indrawn breath. The air became close and slightly muffled, as four people began to think very, very fast.

Arche and Roberdyck exchanged glances. I had the feeling neither wanted to broach the question, which meant it fell to Roberdyck - Amiable, good-natured - to bite the bullet.

"Grandmaster-" he began, clearing his throat. "Why are you giving these to us…?" He gestured at the table, as if words failed him. "These - relics," Roberdyck said. "Surely they must be, well...They must be precious. We're not questioning your largesse-"

He spread his arms.

"But if you'll permit me the question…"

Because you might need them, I thought. I had no illusions as to this world's dangers; If I'd had any doubts of what we might be facing, they'd died in Loyts.

Every little bit counted.

Aloud, I said - "Because I've never lost a man under my command." Roberdyck's eyebrows rose at that; It was true, but only in the sense that I'd never actually been put in that position. Back in the Holy Kingdom, Pavel was the one who'd let the assault; I'd merely been a follower, swept along by the tide of events.

And the others had paid for that.

I swallowed past the bitter taste in my mouth, made myself go on. "We're working towards the same end. Whatever you'll need to succeed...You'll have it."

The words hung in the air for a long, long moment.

It was Arche who raised the obvious question, her voice low, tentative. "And...You trust us with these? What if, hypothetically, we took them…?"

I made myself smile. Thin-lipped, all confidence.

"-How far do you think you'd get?" I asked, and she nodded, as if conceding the point.

Back and forth, like a duel. Never giving away more than I had to, ignoring how sweaty my palms felt, the cold, clammy doubt that clung to my skin.

Now I knew how Kelart felt.

But it was Hekkeran I had my eyes on, the entire time. He was the one I had to convince, I knew; the others were halfway there, but he was the one with the deciding vote. He'd stayed quiet the whole time, his eyes thoughtful despite his clear awe.

A man to watch, no doubt.

"Xergunnil, the Devouring Light," I said, and the curved, rune-engraved blade purred in my hands as I set it down. "The other is Sylpheed, the Winged Blade." And it was - It was a perfectly ludicrous weapon, like an extended angel's wing; individual feathers of steel and silver and brass reared from the reverse edge of the blade, each one etched with words of remembrance that meant absolutely nothing.

I met Hekkeran's gaze, for a long moment. "Which one will you use?"

A beat. Another. A flicker of some hidden emotion passed across his well-favored features, as he straightened - the decision made, at last.

"Both," he said, and pulled the swords from their sheaths. As power ambled across his knuckles, Hekkeran hefted both mismatched blades, checking their balance. He swung his arms back and forth, loosening his shoulders - Then turned the motion into a liquid flurry, that transformed them into arcs of barely visible black-and-silver flickers.

The contrails of light left by the blades lingered for a long moment, even after he lowered them. Dark motes danced in the air, like fluid lines of ink.

At last, Hekkeran smiled. Just a little, a smile that showed a flash of white teeth.

"Well, your Lordship," he said - "Now you've got my attention."

Interlude

"What did you make of him?"

"He's a dreadfully intense sort, isn't he? Are all Paladins like that, Rober?"

"...I'm not sure. I've met one or two in my time, but - Never from the Holy Kingdom. They're different, there...I couldn't say for sure."

"So noted. Imina?"

"I don't like him. There's something not quite right about him. Did you see the way he was staring at me? Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Like he'd never seen an elf before."

"...Maybe your charm won him over?"

"Now, now. It's hardly the right time for jokes. This is business, after all."

"Arche?"

"..."

"What did you think?"

"The gold, the weapons...They're real enough. But - Should I really get a vote? It's my fault that you're-"

"Don't be like that. We knew what we were getting into, all right? We don't regret it. Not for a moment."

"But...If you ever go back to Arwintar-!"

"We told you - It's fine. How are your sisters, by the way?"

"Ureirika's having trouble sleeping. Kuuderika...She keeps asking when we'll see her parents again."

"...That's rough."

"-It wasn't like there was any other way. Some people just won't see sense."

"Well, moving on...Why does the Grandmaster of a Paladin Order need a team of Workers, anyway? Don't they have hundreds of knights at their beck and call?"

"...If he had hundreds of knights, don't you think we'd have heard about it?"

"Maybe - He needs us for something a knight wouldn't do. What that might be, though…"

"Remember what he said? He's expecting trouble in Re-Estize. Something's up - I could see it in his eyes."

"You think he was telling the truth? Paladins can't lie, can they? Rober?"

"-That's a tough question to answer. They're supposed to be paragons of virtue, but...Who can say? I've never heard of someone who told only the truth. I'm not sure if anyone could live like that."

"I still don't like it. Something about this stinks."

"What's the alternative? It's not easy for Arche to go adventuring - She's got her sisters to take care of. And it's not like we're spoilt for choice. I don't think the next client's going to pay this much, up front...I don't think I've ever met a client who has."

"...This might be the last time we're all together, like this."

"Miss Imina…"

"Let's not say such things just yet. I wish we knew more, but...I think we should take the job. It may be dangerous, but - What job isn't?"

"Two 'ayes' and one 'no', then. Arche?"

"...Yes."

"The ayes have it. I'll let the Grandmaster know - He's got himself a deal."

Nursing a cup of watered wine, I waited downstairs, wondering if I was making a mistake; Roberdyck and Hekkeran seemed reliable enough, but I'd been wrong before. I was acutely aware that whatever happened would be entirely on my shoulders...And on my conscience.

It wasn't a pleasant thought.

In the end, it took less than an hour for them to come to a decision.

It was all so very civilized. Once the final details had been hammered out, we'd shook on it; Arche had watched me the entire time, eyes wide and strangely guilty, even as Roberdyck smiled in relief.

And, just like that, we'd parted. I'd left, alone - Until the time came, it was better if I wasn't seen with them. It was late in the afternoon, now, shading inexorably towards the evening; In just a few days, the charm of the capital was wearing off.

It was growing dark, by the time I reached the Heroes' Hearth. Sir Gustav and Kashan had yet to return; Never had I been so forcefully reminded that I was at a loose end.

But there was a message waiting for me.

When I saw Hilma's seal, I felt my heart hammer against the cage of my ribs. It was all I could do not to open it there and then; Instead, I made myself nod to the receptionist, made myself hand her a silver coin.

Forced myself to wait until I was in the safety of my own room, before I tore it open.

There was a single word on the cream-colored sliver of parchment, the one I'd been waiting for and dreading, all at once.

Tomorrow.

Next: Falsehood