As the celebrations died down, Alistair collected his thoughts. He had more he wished to speak with Broderick about. This would be his only chance for some time, he had a feeling. The paladin had many places to be and more people that needed his help. No doubt he was preparing for the journey with the way he shoveled down his meal.

“Broderick, I wanted to ask you something.” The youth leaned in close, so as not to have the others hear. “It’s about Kevin.”

The paladin stiffened in his chair upon hearing the name. They’d not seen hide nor hair of the impetuous noble since they made it back from Mansgrave. Apparently, he’d already left on his steed almost as soon as he’d returned. Perhaps it was for the best, given Broderick’s sour mood regarding the boy.

“I know it’s not my place to question the Lady’s judgment, but I just don’t understand why she gave those powers to someone like him.” Alistair felt his voice crack as it gave way to his anger. He remembered the many times in the past when Kevin had acted in a cruel manner, not just to him, but to everyone around him. “What did he do to deserve her blessing?”

Broderick scratched his budding beard as he considered how to respond. The man seemed to be weighing many things in his mind before he finally came to some conclusion. When he spoke, he did so in a hushed whisper.

“Allow me to reveal something to you, Alistair,” he said. “The Lady’s blessing is conferred to any with the aptitude for it. Be it paladin or daughter. She doesn’t judge them on their past actions, only how they act after receiving her boon.”

“Truly, it’s that simple?” Alistair asked.

“Nothing simple about it, if you ask me.” He shook his head. “We know only what she deigns to show us through the Sight, after all. Don’t misunderstand me, I fully support the Lady and appreciate her blessing. Not out of obligation, but because her powers have allowed me to help people that I otherwise couldn’t.”

Alistair felt the same way. It almost seemed like the Lady had some sort of symbiotic relationship with humanity. With paladins protecting the land of humanity, the Lady found safety and refuge nestled within her sacred groves that were spread across the Alban kingdom. A mutually beneficial setup.

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Broderick said, leaning so close that Alistair could feel the warm ale-ridden breath brush against his cheek. “But I believe that while our Lady can see much of the world through our eyes, she only knows it from those who have the Sight itself. It acts like a looking mirror for her. Powerful, but perhaps not all-knowing as some may be led to believe.”

“And so, does that mean she would recognize Kevin’s conduct from yesterday?” Alistair wanted to believe she would disapprove. Broderick offered him a grim nod.

“He’ll be judged when his quest of supplication ends, just like everyone else.” The paladin got a far off look in his eye. As if he remembered something, or someone. “I’ve met a paladin of the Flame before. Believe me when I say it’s not normally given to arrogant blowhards or those with furious tempers.

“The flame mantle is meant to be used by those who believe and uphold the virtue of Truth. ‘There is nothing meant to be more honest of its intentions than an open flame’, is what the woman told me. She used her powers for good, and her honesty was reflected through her righteous actions.” Broderick’s expression twisted into something more sullen. “I only wish I could have imparted that on Kevin, but we spent so little time together.”

“My father told me something once,” Alistair said. He wore a bitter smile as he recalled a difficult time in his youth. “He said, ‘We only learn from our most difficult mistakes, for they offer the harshest punishment.’ I’d like to believe Kevin may change if he receives a penalty for his actions.” Broderick’s eyes flittered as if he hadn’t considered such a thought.

“Perhaps you’re right, Alistair,” Broderick replied. He took a long drink from his mug. “I can only hope the Lady’s quest might take him somewhere with such a lesson waiting for him. Hopefully, he can be made to come to his senses before it’s too late. Paladins can be hard to come by.”

With his meal picked apart and his drink consumed, Broderick stood up. Alistair followed after him as he made to leave the inn. Their time together had been enlightening, if not too short. He still felt as if there was so much to learn from this man.

“Where will you go?” asked Alistair.

“Wherever the winds take me, I think,” the paladin said with a cheeky grin. Broderick’s mood had improved now with his thoughts on the horizon. “Speaking of, I saw you carrying the wind relic with you from the dragon’s cave.”

“Oh, yeah.” He revealed his prize as they stepped out of the inn.

Alistair had taken to wearing the new token on his neck. He didn’t want to lose it or have it get stolen. As of yet he hadn’t tried to use it. A part of him wanted to try though. Flying, while terrifying on the back of a dragon, might be enjoyable with some practice.

“Go ahead and hang onto it,” Broderick said. He readied his own token as he prepared to transform. “The spirit inside won’t speak to you until you become a paladin proper. Supplicants are only meant to have one spirit living in their heads at a time, you see. But after the Lady anoints you, it should come to speak with you in time.”

“Alright, I can do that.”

In the blink of an eye Broderick became a paladin of the wind again. The green armor was little bigger than a man, but surrounding it was an even larger envelope of whipping air. This magical aura acted as a source of his powers and an effective defense. Most importantly, it gave him the lift necessary to get off the ground.

“I’m certain we’ll meet each other again.” Broderick began to levitate into the sky. He waved to the young supplicant as he rose higher and higher. “Perhaps it will be as two paladins, caught flying in the same direction! Good luck, Alistair of Wyrdwood.”

“Goodbye, Broderick of Isenfell.” Alistair cupped his hands in front of his mouth for better reach. The man was high above Bredon now. “Safe travels!”

He watched the paladin of wind accelerate out across the horizon. Somewhere to the west, he thought. Then his speck disappeared behind some clouds and Broderick was gone. The man certainly wasn’t one to waste any time.

Alistair would take a page out of his book for his own journey. He went back up to his room, collected his things, and rushed to leave. Nothing remained for him to do in Bredon but leave on his quest of pilgrimage. His destiny lie ahead of him, his path never more clear than it was now.

Blinding light encompassed him and as the red Aegis he marched out of town. Some folk were out working or passing by down the street as he walked. They waved and clapped at him as he set off. Their cheers invigorated him more than any meal ever could. Never before would he have imagined he’d ever be blessed with such positive attention. It made his service as a paladin all the more sweet.

Focused on the road and wilderness ahead, Alistair knew that it would be at least a half day walk to Fallkirk. He very much doubted Peter and the trader caravan would still be there, so he’d have to walk his way to the nearest bridge to cross the Mansgrave. It would be his quickest way toward the enchanted forest, toward Avalon.

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Alistair blinked, how did he know that? He had no map, and he’d certainly never traveled to Gàradh Lien before. And yet, he had a strange certainty in what way he should be going. As if the Sight, or the Lady herself, were guiding him. There could be no other explanation. For that, he was relieved.

Surrounded by nothing but scenery, Alistair found himself inundated with thoughts. Of the future, of the dragon, of his trip to Deadwood. He was reminded of Ilvara and a pang of sadness hit him. Alistair hadn’t seen her since they returned to Bredon yesterday evening. She’d made herself scarce the moment they were surrounded by the celebrating villagers and knights. There wasn’t even a chance to say goodbye.

As someone who’d never been alone much of his life, he found himself at ease when traveling together with someone. Even someone as prickly as a winter elf. Toward the end there, Alistair could have sworn she’d lightened up a bit too. Ilvara certainly seemed more of a loner though, someone who could survive without anyone to talk to or lean on. She definitely need him or anyone as a companion.

Not to mention, she had bigger problems to deal with. Perhaps it was the distance between their two cultures, but he sensed a lot of inner turmoil when she made her request to Kazumth. Like a part of her wanted to go back home, and yet at the same time, she was uncomfortable with the thought of it. She was a hard one to read, that elf.

Alistair was so lost in thought that he almost ran right into a stopped horse. He only managed to catch himself when the tamed beast grunted and neighed at his approach. Right away he recognized it as the pack horse he and Ilvara had borrowed for their trip. On the opposite side of the road sat a rather amused looking Ilvara on the back of her other borrowed horse.

“I’d make a comment about duine lack of awareness, but I feel like we’d be treading the same water twice.” She quirked her head to the side. “Or is the expression ‘beating a dead horse’ more apt?” She patted the mane of her chestnut gelding. “Maybe not with present company.”

“I thought you’d left,” he muttered. Alistair found it difficult to make the right words come out.

Ilvara gestured toward the landscape around them. “I did leave. Bredon at least. The party they threw last night was meant for you and ice boy, not me. I’m still an outsider, always will be.” She shrugged. “Besides, I don’t like parties. Too loud.”

“You didn’t miss much.” Alistair remembered only bits of the drinking before he finally had to retire. “It was just drinking and dancing. And I can’t dance.” He thought for a moment. “Do your people celebrate?”

She raised a brow. “Do you assume we don’t?”

“I don’t know.” The red giant comically shrugged its shoulders. “I barely know anything about your people, apart from what you’ve told me. And from what you described, you certainly don’t sound like the type to bring out a few kegs and start doing a jig.”

“I’d never describe any kind of dance my people do as a ‘jig’,” she said, wincing as the word rolled off her tongue. “But we certainly celebrate, when something worth celebrating occurs.”

“Such as?”

“The death of an adversary, a promotion earned by being more conniving than your rival, earning more servants and wealth for your house. All of it quite droll.”

He regretted asking. Though he had to give Ilvara credit in that, by her current circumstances at least, she certainly didn’t fit the same mold as those she just described. On second thought, her description wasn’t far off from how the average noble might describe their own accomplishments. At least, that was Alistair’s impression of it.

“I assume you’re heading somewhere important, dressed up like that.” She indicated his red suit. “So important you didn’t bother to think ahead and grab someone’s horse.”

Alistair was thankful for the suit of armor being on. She couldn’t see him blush from embarrassment. Ilvara’s words for once didn’t have any bite to them though. He thought she might even be playing with him.

“Well, I do have a new quest,” he replied, quickly. Eager to put his mistake behind him, he continued. “I’ve received a summons, by the Lady herself.”

Ilvara adjusted uncomfortably in her seat. “How so?” she asked.

“A dream.”

“Hm.” The elf clicked her tongue. Her disposition had changed into something more wary. “And what did ‘the Lady’ ask of you, specifically?”

“I’m to go to Gàradh Lien,” he said, unbothered by her shift in tone. His excitement grew, words erupting from his lips. “I finally did it, Ilvara. The Lady wants me to drink from the grail. Become a paladin for real!”

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose.” She didn’t sound happy about it, though.

“Oh, no need. I’ve been celebrated and congratulated enough.” Alistair adjusted the sack on his back. “You don’t seem too enthused. Something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” He knew a lie when he heard one. She dismissed his concern with a shrug. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Where are you headed?” he asked. Seemed a fair question.

“Oh me?” Ilvara rooted around in her waist pouch and revealed something familiar. The map they’d found off the mercenaries. “I plan on looking more into this. Why they were made to bring the egg down here, what the map and the letter mean. All of it.”

“Why?” Alistair figured she wouldn’t bother with human issues.

“If someone was bold enough to commission the theft of a dragon egg, they aren’t likely to give up. Their next plan will just be something worse.”

“You don’t think those necromancers tricked them then?”

“That trio of idiots?” She shook her head emphatically. “Not likely. Use your head, Alistair. They just took advantage of a lost and afraid mercenary band. A group like them wouldn’t have the resources to pull off a forgery, nor could they leave messages for the band to find along the way.”

“So you plan to find out who did?”

“Right,” she said. “Someone bold enough to trifle where only geevshey and draca mór go will be trouble for my people. Finishing this mystery will put an end to the business with Kazumth, and I’ll be able to return to the north with my head held high.”

Alistair was impressed with her drive. She didn’t let things just rest or go with the flow. Ilvara made her own decisions and chose her own way. Maybe she wasn’t happy living out in human lands, so far from home, but she certainly had the talent and skills necessary to survive. He guessed that was part of what made her a pathfinder of her people.

In a way, he wished he could be more like her.

“I wish I could go with you,” he said, breaking the silence between them. He knew not what to say or do to make his heart stop hurting. Was he really this afraid to be alone?

She looked him up and down. “You do have your uses, I’ll admit. ‘Tis a shame you have to go meet the fae enchanting your people’s lakes.”

“Well, I guess I better get back to it.” The red suit began its march again, slow and unsure of itself.

“Me as well,” Ilvara said from behind him.

He went on for a bit like that. Trying not to think on all of the awkward things he’d said. Pondering how he might have said things differently, to get a better ending. All of his thoughts were punctuated with a constant clip clop from behind him.

He turned his head and saw Ilvara riding just a few steps behind. She gave him an amused look, as if she’d expected him to turn around sooner.

“You’re following me?”

The winter elf pulled up on the reins to keep her horse from running into him. She paused a moment, as if to let his words sink in. Then she just pointed to the road.

“There’s only one way to go.” She hiked a finger back over her shoulder. “And I certainly don’t plan on going back to the land of the dead.”

Alistair did a double take and realized the obvious. Yes, of course. There was only one road and one way out of Bredon proper if you wanted to go toward civilization. It didn’t take a pathfinder to know that much. He was starting to lose count of how many times he’d felt embarrassed by his own naivete in front of her.

“Do you mind if I catch a ride then?” he asked innocently.

“Well, I’d be concerned if you planned to walk the whole way there.”