Alistair’s ears perked as this woman, this servant of the Lady, spoke her fancy words. It was a well-rehearsed line, delivered with confidence. The knights and their squires, all of them listened with not a single one of them speaking or even stirring. There was clearly some sort of suggestion, perhaps even a hint of magic in her words.

Such magic was confirmed when the Sight made words appear again. There were many this time. It was a grouping that he had never seen before.

Quest of Conveyance

Escort Convoy to the North

Requirements

Any warrior of Recognized renown or above

Description

A group of merchants and other travelers have need of at least one capable warrior to escort them on the trade route north.

Rewards

Small Universal Renown Gain

Small Duchy of Isen Renown Gain

Small Monetary Reward

Quest of Elimination

…

A list of quests, none of which he had thought of or been prompted to know, appeared before him. He glanced through them rather quickly as there was just so much information present. Alistair could read thanks to the Lady but it still hurt to read that much in so little time.

Some he noticed were blurred out. All he could read were their necessary requirements. All of them asked for paladins or knights of a certain measure of renown. In fact, only a handful of her quests were readable by him.

Rozena continued to speak even as he did his best to read. It was hard for him to focus on her and understand the words in front of him, but he understood she was speaking the details of a quest to the knights. It was then that Alistair was reminded that it was only he that had the Sight among those present; the rest of them would have to rely on the daughter to orally explain these tasks and words to them. He felt an odd sense of privilege compared to these highborn now.

Quest of Discovery | Quest of Elimination

Investigation in Adelgard

Requirements

A party of Recognized warriors or above

OR

A paladin of Any mantle | Level 2 or above

Preferred Shadow mantle users

A new quest popped up as the daughter continued. It wasn’t one from the list this time. Two quests were combined into one entry.

Description

Find the killers of Viscount Lathurn. | Bring them to justice.

Reward

Moderate Universal Renown Gain

Large Duchy of Isen Renown Gain

Large Monetary Reward

Milestone Progress

The rewards made Alistair’s spin. They were quite the step up from clearing hobs out of a tiny cave. Considering how much he struggled back then, he had little doubt this quest would be leagues tougher. But, maybe if everyone worked together this time they could overcome the enhanced difficulty.

“What say you, warriors of Isen?” Rozena asked them for their opinion. She must have finished the story while he was reading.

The knights looked among one another and offered slight nods of agreement. Their reaction was somewhat tepid to the tale that had been spun. Alistair regretted that he was so focused on reading that he missed what extra details she gave the men around him.

Sir Manus had a stern look about him as he considered her words. As always, he was a deciding factor in the decorum of how to proceed. A fellow noble, no doubt this struck home for him. He must have known Lathurn to some extent.

“Insane to believe we were here not but a week ago and the man was alive,” Manus said under his breath. “Who could have done this?”

Rozena offered a sympathetic look. “It’s thought to have been committed by more than one person. If you consider the skill displayed not just in the killing of the viscount and his guards, but the fact no one managed to get a look at them. It’s very suspicious.”

“Indeed,” Sir Tomas whispered, eyes wide.

“Someone from his own court?” asked Sir Griogair. His concern was palpable. For a highborn to be betrayed by one of his own was something they feared above all else.

“Alphonse, his son, doesn’t seem convinced of anything yet. His advisors have cautioned him to be patient. The boy’s temper is well known in these parts,” Rozena said, shrugging as she did. Her attempt to stay neutral, Alistair guessed.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” said Remon Tireid, cackling as he did. “No doubt, The killers would be hanging from the castle walls by now. Along with a dozen innocents caught along the way if Alphonse had his say in the matter.” He oft displayed a darker sense of humor.

The others held their tongue but made no retort. Alistair noticed this kind of thing often. Nobles rarely poked fun at their fellows. Their sense of honor and integrity sometimes seemed so fragile with how afraid they were to break social etiquette. In a way it made Alistair appreciate Remon more.

He wanted to have the same kind of courage to say what needed to be said.

“Are there any leads for us to follow?” asked Sir Manus.

“I would suggest meeting with Alphonse directly, my lord,” Rozena said. “Perhaps with your offer of aid he might offer something further. I am simply a messenger seeking those who will listen.”

“Very well then,” Manus said, rubbing his chin as he did. “We will finish our business here, and before sunset we shall seek an audience at the keep. Such nasty business should not be left unattended for long.”

The knights nodded and chirped in agreement. They seemed to have a good rapport with each other. Each knew when to argue and when to fall in line. A strict hierarchy that none needed to be reminded of.

Alistair realized how different it was than how lowborn conducted themselves among one another. Whereas nobles had a strict sense of rigidity based on their names and titles, peasants found importance in other ways.

Age was a universal sign of wisdom, but profession also had a great deal to do with the respect one was offered. Being the son of a blacksmith and a launderer, Alistair definitely leaned on the side of privilege when it came to the lower classes, but even then he certainly had little respect to pull from as a lowly man-at-arms. Even as a supplicant not much had changed, though some of that was because he still comported himself as a peasant in his manner of dress and speech.

Perhaps that was something he would need to change too, if he wanted to be taken seriously in the world.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Thank you for listening to my tale. I will take my leave now,” Rozena said, offering a simple curtsy. “I will be breaking camp soon to continue my travels. If you need me, I have a tent set near the west gate.”

“Thank you, my lady. If we do not meet again, safe travels,” Sir Manus said, nodding.

She turned to leave but then paused for a moment. Rozena turned to Alistair, whom she hadn’t addressed the entire way through. To be fair, he hadn’t said a word either. His quiet nature no doubt contributed to that, and he was still learning how to present himself among the men of noble blood.

“And to you supplicant, I pray the Lady watch over your progress. May you drink from the grail and be sworn a paladin in full. We have need of folk like you.”

Alistair’s cheeks flushed. “T-Thank you, milady. Blessings of the Lady to you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She smiled and then a moment later she was gone, lost in the crowd. The men were now left alone to plan their next move. It was decided that if they were to get in to see the new viscount today, that it would need to be Sir Manus to make the appointment. The rest of the knights would get unpacked and perhaps change into something not so dingy after their long travel on the dusty roads.

Alistair soon found himself alone as the men set about their tasks with a certain level of practice and ease that made him envious. He was frustrated how inept he was in this new setting. First it was a struggle living among nobles and now he felt another real divide between himself and urbanites, regardless of their social class. Everything just seemed so overwhelming to him, even with Sir Manus as a kind guide.

Yet, the man couldn’t tag along with Alistair forever. Would he manage alright on his own? He wouldn’t make an adequate hero if he needed a babysitter forever.

Something to think on, Alistair said to himself.

For now though, he had the real issue of being reliant on the knights and their patronage. He had no money to his name and so the pleasures of a city like this were lost on someone like him. It was for that reason that, as the men dispersed to busy themselves with their tasks, Alistair decided instead to head up to his room.

He felt a sense of relief as he closed the door behind him. It was sort of like he could feel some of that discomfort and stress wash over him when there were no prying eyes. Every moment he struggled to maintain a composure that he thought Sir Manus and the others expected him to have. Living like that every day was exhausting on someone of humble origins.

Alistair decided he would rest for a while. Sitting for as long as he did, both on the wagon and down below in the tavern, exacerbated the soreness he felt all over. He shed the simple leather bits of his armor and left himself in only the simplest rags so as to have a comfortable nap. Then he eased himself into perhaps what was the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in. Not only was the pillow made with feathers, but the mattress below him too!

What luxury, he thought.

Just like when he was back in the hamlet, Alistair fell asleep right away. It was honestly unusual how good he had become at sleeping. Every night he managed to get a proper rest, he would be greeted with dreams. What were once rarities to him now had become regularities. They were quite real sometimes, so much so that he wondered if it was the Lady herself sending him cryptic messages.

This time he dreamed of another forest. Not dusk this time, but dawn. Tall trees, fallen bark, sunbathed leaves. He could hear the wind whistle through the branches and the sharp calls of birds. Apart from the smells of fresh morning dew and endemic wildflowers, there was something else. He wrinkled his nose at the acrid scent.

It was blood. He knew that well now, his senses of it sharpened since his battle with the hobs. But this wasn’t hobs. Alistair didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. There were shouts now, the voices indistinguishable from each other. Horns were blown and the harsh galloping of horses took over what was once a peaceful scene of nature.

All the while, Alistair found himself rooted in his spot. He could do nothing as these events played out somewhere around him, just out of sight. Someone whispered his name. Then he blinked and saw Sir Manus on his knees, bloodied and beaten. A figure cast in smoke and shadow stood above him, ready to strike the final blow.

Alistair!

The voice was louder now, ringing in his ears. He awoke with a fright and found himself covered in cold sweat. His eyes darted about the room and soon he realized the voice’s source.

Sir Manus was leaning over his bed with a look of concern. The older man had changed into a more formal attire for his visit to the castle. Seeing such bright colors and uncomfortable clothing on an otherwise decorated warrior felt out of place. Alistair’s disheveled appearance was the main distraction now though.

“Are you alright?” asked Manus. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, but you looked as if you were having a nightmare. Tossing and turning. You almost fell from the bed as I came in. ‘Twas all I could do but shout and shake you awake.”

“I’m fine,” Alistair said, lying as simply as he breathed. He wiped at his forehead and wished for a glass of water. “Just a bad dream.”

“More than that, I wager.” The knight seemed unconvinced.

“Have you already gone to see the lord of the castle?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

Sir Manus shook his head.

“We were just about to leave actually. I thought to check on you before I did.” Manus patted him on his one good shoulder. “You needn’t come with us, lad. Everyone knows the pain you're suffering now, after all the fighting you did. It’s sure to be a boring affair.”

“It’s not something I want to miss.”Alistair pulled himself up from the confines of the bed. He began to put on the rest of his clothes again as Sir Manus sighed and shook his head.

“If you insist, then. We’ll be waiting downstairs,” he said.

Sir Manus had a valid point of course. Just a bit of sleep wouldn’t do him any good to finish healing. He needed sustained rest. But what kind of paladin would he be if he were to rest and let others do the work for him? It only felt natural to push himself to be better, to try harder.

Alistair scampered out the door to his room. He almost ran directly into Remon in his rush to catch up. It looked like the knight had waited for him, oddly. They hadn’t really spoken much so he was surprised to see the dark haired man standing there.

“Ah, there you are,” Remon said, offering a slight nod of respect. He was well groomed now, having grown something of a beard on their way to Adelgard. The outfit he chose looked very uncomfortable with a high collar and tight trousers.

“Sir Remon, I didn’t expect to see you up here still,” Alistair said.

“Ah yes.” The man looked a bit tense as he adjusted his collar. “Well, I wanted to offer you a bit of advice, you see. I’m acquainted with Alphonse, the new viscount as it were, and I can tell you he’s not someone to mince words.”

“What do you mean?”

Remon shrugged. “He’s not a nice man usually, and he’s sure to not be right now with his father dead. Nobles have some leeway in how they may treat one another, but there is a line you can’t cross. With lowborn, though…well, he won’t think twice before he says something off the cuff to you.”

His thoughts drifted back to his lord, Baron Caldwell, and his son Kevin. He was certainly not a stranger to that kind of treatment. Remon almost made it sound worse, though. It was strange for the man to offer him a warning at all, really.

“I guess I should be careful then,” he said.

“I only said it because I’ve seen what you can do. You have my respect, and I’m sure it's the same for the others.” Remon shook his head. “But when it comes to social etiquette and decorum, when we’re in front of him, we won’t be able to speak up for you. Only Sir Manus might as a man of equal rank and great renown, but it would put him in a difficult spot to protect a peasant, you know?”

“What should I do then?” Alistair asked, confused.

“Well, putting on a noble’s clothing wouldn’t do. He’d see through it in a moment. If not in the way you walk then the way you speak.” The knight took a moment to think, tapping his finger to his chin. Then he snapped his finger. “You know, I’m not really sure how your powers work, as I’ve never been properly acquainted with a paladin before, but what if you wore your armor? Can you change outside of battle?”

He had never really considered the possibility. Neither the paragon spirit nor the Lady had told him he couldn’t simply walk around with his relic mantle on. Of course, there was the matter of his form’s particular size to consider. It could be hard to fit through doorways or small passages.

Now that he thought about it, Alistair wasn’t sure of any limitation on his powers. Surely he couldn’t stay in his armored form forever. There had to be some limiting factor. The magical force that held it together would have to run out and need to recharge somehow, right?

It might be good to test such things now outside of combat, he thought.

“I never really tried.” Alistair thought for a moment, then looked around. “It might be better to save it for outside though. I’m afraid I’ll be too large to make it down the stairs.”

“Good thinking. The others have waited long enough,” Remon said, nodding.

They headed down together. Now that darkness had fallen on the city, the inside of the tavern had switched to torch light. A crackling fire smelled strongly of birchwood, a sweet smell of wintergreen. It offered Alistair some measure of help with the butterflies in his stomach. There was something about this meeting that felt nerve-wracking. It didn’t help that the normally cool and calm knights seemed uncomfortable as well.

Out in the street, Sir Manus and the others waited. He gave Remon an odd look but otherwise seemed distracted. Alistair picked up on the body language and knew they were all dreading the trip up to the keep.

Maybe the thought that a bunch of noble killers were on the loose unsettled them more than he expected. Especially now that they weren’t wearing their fancy armor. Speaking of armor, Alistair got out from beneath the low hanging shingles of the building and into the street. There weren’t many people around so he felt that he had enough room to safely transform.

His body was bathed in a white light and soon after he emerged in the form of the Aegis. The few peasants and other busybodies still out and about shouted in surprise at the bright burning light. Most were so taken aback by his change they rightly scattered without a second thought. A few remained, staring at the crimson giant in silent awe and a not so insignificant amount of fear.

Alistair thanked the Lady and the spirit inside his relic token that he was allowed to transform freely. This form gave him more confidence than he ever could have as just a normal human. No one would think a lowborn could be inside such a magnificent body.

“Alistair, what’s this about?” Sir Manus asked. The men apart from Remon were also taken aback.

“I realized I didn’t have anything to wear, so this seemed to be the most appropriate. You don’t think so?” His voice was again amplified by the armor itself and he suddenly felt self-conscious. There were surely people sleeping somewhere nearby given how dark it was outside. He’d have to be more careful.

“Well, if you insist. They are not my powers to judge.” Earl Druim looked at his men, then to Alistair, and nodded. “Let’s be off then. The sooner we speak to Viscount Lathurn, the sooner we may be on our way.”

Together the five of them stalked off into the night and up toward the castle.