The supplicants met under what should have been a moment of triumph. Alistair thought for sure that if Kevin had been invited by the Lady, then surely he’d somehow proved himself worthy. That somewhere in his tempestuous heart rested a paladin worthy of the Lady’s affection. One look at him now described nothing of the sort.

Kevin was still alive, if only just. It looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. Like his very soul had been taken from him. Alistair would have been lying if he said the sight didn’t frighten him. That the Lady could have such power, let alone use it, was something he never could have imagined.

Looking at him now, Alistair legitimately felt sorry for Kevin.

The noble had nothing to add. No snarky comments or furious insults. He merely spared Alistair a fleeting glance and then shambled past. Where Kevin planned to go or what he would do, the lowborn boy had no idea. Was this the lesson meant to teach him the error of his ways? Alistair’s words to Broderick now felt like an omen.

“Did you know him?” asked Felnie. The pech had watched their silent meeting with a raised brow.

“I did,” Alistair replied. He spared a second glance and shook his head. “He looks nothing like his old self. What happened to him?”

“The Lady took his magic from him. She does that sometimes, when the boys and girls aren’t well behaved.” Felnie shrugged, hands behind his back. “He will live, if that’s what worries you. The Lady doesn’t kill, not like that.”

“Yes, but will he always look like…well, that?”

“The emaciation is a common effect when you have so much magic sucked out in a short time. I’ll admit it isn’t the most gentle process,” Felnie said, frowning as he did. He did seem at least somewhat bothered by the thought, like Alistair. “But in time, his body will recover. He won’t ever be a paladin, but he could still become a respected diplomat or a lauded knight. If he still has the heart for it.”

There was a chance at least. Alistair had worried the Lady had done something permanent to Kevin. Even with their history, the peasant still found the idea of such a punishment almost too much. He hoped that Kevin would learn something, take some kind of lesson from this. Otherwise, what was the point?

By now Kevin had disappeared further down the trail. Some of the silent guardians went after the noble, watching his every move even still. Alistair had been watching him this whole time, he realized.

“Your turn.” Felnie motioned Alistair forward.

The youth took another deep breath. He found it difficult to ignore the nervous fit his stomach was in. Alistair was there because of the Lady’s invitation, an invitation where she herself said that he’d done just as she asked and fulfilled his oath. And yet, he couldn’t shake this anxiety, this fear of disappointment. A fear of failure.

He entered through the threshold and into what he imagined was Gàradh Lien proper. Everything seemed to be bathed in an ethereal, sparkling light. Heavy mist rose from the still waters of the grove. It bathed the verdant ground in a mystical shroud. Alistair couldn’t see the Lady, but he could feel the presence of something magical. Something big, something powerful.

Alistair heard the sound of snapping branches and slithering vines. He turned and saw the living wall had reformed behind him. His guide Felnie had stayed behind. Left alone, he did the only thing left to do and started walking toward the lake.

At the water’s edge, he looked himself over in the reflection. He tried smoothing his clothes again and adjusted his belt. No matter what angle he looked from, all Alistair could see was the sight of a peasant. Not the image he’d ever think of in his mind when someone mentioned a paladin of the Lady. He looked more like he was about to go work in the field or chop some wood for his lord’s fire. What champion would wear such ratty clothes?

“Do I sense doubt from you?”

Alistair felt rattled by the callout. He tore his eyes from the water and instead looked around to try and see the source of the voice. There was no one around and the voice didn’t sound like anyone he knew. Had it been a figment of his imagination? Amplified by the powerful magics at work in this sacred grove?

Then he heard something. The splashing of water, rhythmic and steady. It came from the other side of the lake, the source still obscured by fog. Every moment the paddling grew louder. Alistair could hear the creak of a wooden boat as it was made to traverse the body of water.

From out of the mists, he finally saw the boat. It was a small thing, undecorated and without even a sail. In the middle seat rested a hooded figure, wooden oar in hand. Closer now, Alistair couldn’t make out their face—such details were obscured in harsh shadow. He could, however, see the wrinkled skin from the man’s outstretched arm as he wielded the paddle. An old man, there in the grove?

“What of my age? Does that make me a lesser man?” he asked, responding to Alistair’s errant thoughts.

“O-Of course not!” The supplicant felt flustered by such a sudden disadvantage. First the Lady, now this man could see inside his mind. “I was just surprised is all.”

“Not expecting me, I see.” The boat came to a rest a dozen or so feet from shore. This traveler rested his hands on the oar, the wooden handle in front of him. “Don’t suppose they tell boys and girls in Wyrdwood about the ‘Fisher King’, do they?”

“No,” Alistair replied truthfully.

Despite the man’s supposed age, his voice made him sound like a bull or an ox. A powerful, deep baritone, almost amplified like a relic mantle. He didn’t shake or strain from the effort used to paddle over either. This wasn’t an ordinary human by any means.

“A shame that. But no matter, for I come to you with a question. One unrelated to your upbringing, or your lack of decorum.” He spoke well, with a kind of flow that implied some measure of learnings. Regal, in a certain fashion. “Your relic token, the Aegis, it spoke to you, yes?” The hooded figure waited for Alistair to nod. “Do you remember what it told you of the thirteen virtues?”

“Somewhat,” said Alistair nervously. He felt like a student during an exam. “Aegis told me it was once a champion of the Lady, one of her paragons. It represented one of those thirteen virtues.”

“Which one?”

“Of charity, milord.”

“Milord, ha!” the man said, and laughed loudly. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me, Alistair of Wyrdwood, what have you done to earn that token around your neck?”

“Well, the Lady—”

“The Lady isn’t here right now, is she?” The Fisher King stuck out a bony finger, jabbing it at him. “You have a voice, and dare I hope a brain as well. Use it!”

Alistair was taken aback by the man’s aggression. No longer was he in school but rather an interrogator’s rack. He knew not what he had done to deserve such attitude. Still, he figured this to be some sort of test. Refusal wouldn’t be an option.

“I fought to save a village near my home from a warband of hobs and orcs.”

“Yes, but only after Aegis had to knock some sense into you.” The hooded figure waved its hand dismissively. “Such hesitation earns you no favor from me. A paladin of the Aegis must be willing to lay his life down for the innocent at a moment’s notice. And not out of obligation, but of love for your fellow man.”

“I defended Adelgard from a roving band of redcaps—”

“Glorified pixies,” interrupted the Fisher King. “And they still gave you so much trouble.”

“I saved the lives of my companions!” Alistair retorted, his anger rising.

“And your lack of skill would have seen them and yourself slaughtered had there been more than just a handful of the creatures.”

“I helped save the town of Bredon.”

“Mhm, you and two dozen others.” The man tilted his head. Alistair felt as if the man’s unseen eyes were boring into him, accusing him of failure. “How many of them fell that day? How many more could you have saved if you’d pushed yourself harder?”

“We stopped Kazumth without further bloodshed.” Alistair then added, “And yes, I didn’t do it alone. Nor did things go perfectly to plan. But we did it, all the same.”

“Of course you did. Dragged along by the ear, by your betters. Not once did you make a choice for yourself, you let yourself be led around like a sniveling pup.”

“That’s not—”

“Oh, I forgot. You did make one choice all your own.” The Fisher King’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he continued his tirade. “In an unsanctioned duel, you bloodied your hands and struck a fellow supplicant. A supplicant we both knew to be flawed, but a fellow Lady’s chosen all the same. You let your emotions get the better of you.”

“Would you have had me die to Kevin’s blade?” Alistair asked, teeth clenched.

“No, though I hoped you’d have put a bit more effort into convincing him of his folly. There was little ‘charity’ to be had on Mansgrave that day. You went into it expecting a fight, you wanted a fight. A rematch from the first time.”

“You’re wrong.” Alistair’s voice was cold, reserved. He grew tired of this test. “I know Kevin. I knew that I’d never persuade him. He had no reason to respect me, let alone listen to what I had to say. At least I still tried.”

“So is that it then?” the man asked, unconvinced. “Those few deeds were enough to make you a paladin. Do you really believe all that made you a hero?”

“It wasn’t for me to decide.”

“Who then, the Lady? Are you really satisfied with yourself, with your progress? You think that after you drink from the grail, suddenly every struggle will become a bore?”

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“I never thought that.”

“You best not. So many of you do.” He shook his head ruefully. “With the fey fire in your eyes, you go off on your next quest with your head held high. You’ll truly believe nothing can stop you. That the Lady has blessed you with every power beneath the sun.

“You’ll have everyone around you convinced of it too. And then, when you have to rise to the challenge, you realize you bit off more than you could chew. Those you convinced are left disappointed, betrayed, and often dead because of your failure. Are you ready for that?”

“That’s enough.”

A figure rose from beneath the glittering depths of the lake. Bathed in holy light, the Lady of the Lake revealed herself in all her majesty. Alistair immediately fell to one knee and bowed his head. He felt the anger drain from his shaking body. Her calming aura washed over him like a cleansing wave, a warm embrace.

“Have I displeased you, my lady?” asked the Fisher King, his voice much more tender.

“You always push them too hard,” she said, her voice tinged with uncharacteristic gloom. “Such harsh words will fray their confidence, rattle their nerves.”

“Better their nerves be rattled than their lives cut short,” he replied softly. “You mustn’t coddle them so. They are meant to be warriors, are they not? Let them fight for themselves, not just with sword and shield, but with words too.

“Besides,” he added. “This is often my one chance to see these supplicants. Paladins so often have little reason to visit us. How else am I to impress upon them these values?”

“You overstep your bounds too freely, my dear,” said the Lady. She sounded more tired than angry. “For more than a thousand years, your role has always been to be my guardian. Nothing more.”

“And I have stayed faithful to that duty, even now.” They spoke as if they were a married couple, bickering in front of guests. “For if I am to fall, one of these children will have to take my place. Would you have me surrender it to a whelp, one with no backbone?”

“Look at us, speaking so casually in front of the boy.” Alistair flicked his eyes up and the Lady now stood over him. Her eyes offered him a silent apology. “Come, Alistair.” She held out her hand for him to take. “Enough of these petty squabbles. Today is meant to be a day of celebration.”

“Yes, milady,” Alistair said. He took her soft hand into his once again. Again, he felt a sense of comfort and warmth emanate from her palm.

“As you wish, my lady.”

The Fisher King bowed his arms to the sides, dipping his neck in a strained curtsy. His oar, the one he had leaned on, remained upright on its own accord. Balanced as if by magic itself. Around him, the mist grew thicker and thicker until he and his boat were gone.

With a wave of her hand, the Lady summoned a portal of swirling white energy at the water’s edge. It acted like a window, one where he could see through to the other side. In the rippling depths of magical energy, he saw what could only be described as a lush paradise. He saw white mares running in a field, chasing after one of their kind with a horn affixed to its head. Further off, he could see what looked like young girls arranged in a circle. Magical energy—visible to the naked eye—swirled around them, and the sky above the girls grew cloudy and dark. Perhaps they were daughters in training, Alistair mused.

His view zoomed further to a small lake, not unlike the grove they occupied now. There, resting on the very same stone pedestal he had seen before was the grail. The Lady’s holy artifact looked just as magnificent as the last time Alistair witnessed it in his dream. In Wyrdwood, before his journey had truly begun. He realized just how far he’d come since then, standing where he was today.

“Shall we?” The Lady’s vibrant smile stirred something in Alistair. A desire to make her proud, a desire to protect her.

“Yes, milady.”

Together, hand in hand, they walked into the abyss. Into Avalon, the home of Nimue, the protective goddess of Alba.

----------------------------------------

Alistair couldn’t begin to describe the feeling when his lips first touched the grail. From the moment the first drop of the ichor washed down his gullet, his body felt alight with fire. Not a painful flame, more like the strongest alcohol he’d ever downed. But rather than give him a bitter aftertaste and a headache to wake the gods, the grail gave him power. So much so that, as the energy pulsed through him, he almost felt like he wasn’t in his own body.

To him, he couldn’t imagine a human being able to sustain this kind of strength. And yet there Alistair was, held in the Lady’s gentle embrace, as his body succumbed to the changes of her elixir. His heart kept beating, his lungs still managed to fill with air. The body he called his own was changing to survive this transformation, to embrace it.

The Lady cradled him as the sweats and shakes got the better of him. She wore a look of concern even though she’d most certainly witnessed the transformation countless times. It couldn’t have been easy for her to subject people to the effects. A necessary evil. He felt her hand as it gently rubbed his head. Every fleeting touch filled his body with a healing wave to counteract the grail’s more uncomfortable side effects.

One moment he closed his eyes and when next he opened them he found his strength restored. Alistair rose to his knees, quickly for someone so sick just a short while ago. He looked around and felt his senses had been sharpened. Everything looked sharper to him, even things far away seemed closer than they should. His sense of smell, taste, hearing, all of it had changed.

Of the Lady, there was no sign. He swore that he’d only shut his eyes for a moment, and yet she was already gone. As was the grail and its pedestal. A closer look revealed he was no longer in Avalon, but instead he had been returned to Gàradh Lien. Even with the Lady’s magic, he would have felt something to alert him. Alistair must have been unconscious for longer than he’d thought.

Quest of Pilgrimage

Complete!

You are now a paladin of the Lady.

Rewards

The Boon of the Lady

Title of ‘Paladin’

Milestone Progress

A message, from the Lady herself. His pilgrimage and his oath, taken not but three or four weeks or so ago, had come to an end. Alistair could consider himself one of the Lady’s chosen, for now until the end of time. He began to smile, tears brimming. Somehow he’d done it. Every day he suffered at least one moment of weakness. A thought would consume him, a belief that he’d never truly make it to the end.

Well, this wasn’t the end yet. A new journey started today that would last him until he drew his last breath. His duty to protect the people of Alba, to protect the Lady and her followers, would become his new quest.

Aegis Mantle

Level 5 Unlocked

Universal Damage Resistance

22.50% -> 25% total resistance.

Living Shield | Ability

120ft -> 150ft range | 4 -> 5 minutes

Knockout | Passive

12% -> 13% Stun chance

Inspire | Ability

Moderate -> Large bonus | 5 -> 10 minutes

Internal Damage | Passive

20% -> 22.50% damage inflicted for every blocked attack.

It seemed the Aegis had its own reward to give to Alistair. More power with which to use against the enemies of humanity. He felt relieved to know he’d proven himself worthy of the token around his neck. To have gotten this far with it.

New!

Adaptive Armor | Ability

1/day | 1/min. duration

The Aegis wearer can declare resistance against one specific damage type and reduce such damage by 50%.

This effect will work in conjunction with other abilities, like Universal Damage Reduction.

“Could have used that against Kevin,” Alistair muttered. Kevin’s fire attacks would have been almost completely nullified.

With such a short duration, such an ability would need to be perfectly timed. Not to mention its limit to once a day meant it could easily be wasted at an inopportune moment. With further milestones, perhaps such things would be improved. Still, a powerful ability nonetheless.

Alistair got up off the dew-ridden grass. The grove had fallen silent again. Neither the Fisher King nor the Lady made themselves known, nor did Felnie pop in to check on him. Alistair could see through the parting of the trees up above that night had descended since he was last present in the mortal plane. His time in Avalon had taken much longer than he’d thought after all.

He retraced his steps and found the way back open and unguarded. From out of the hedge walls he peeked around. No spriggans or hounds were waiting for him. The forest felt even quieter than before. Thankfully the Sight, now a permanent fixture to his paladin body, lit the way home.

Every step he took along that stone path he felt his chest swell a little tighter with pride. Alistair could feel something different about himself this time. Strange confidence, a strong belief that everything would turn his way. His physical body felt tougher and more energetic sure, but so too had his mind been reinforced. For a brief moment Alistair’s mind flashed back to the Fisher King, to his warning.

Alistair knew better though. He wouldn’t make those mistakes. The Fisher King had been so used to bratty nobles coming before him, those who were already absorbed in the idea that they could do no wrong. Not Alistair, he’d struggled every step to get to where he was. He’d earned this moment, this feeling.

So absorbed was Alistair that he didn’t even notice that he’d made it back to the forest’s edge. He could see his horse resting there and his things neatly laid about. Relief flooded over him as he started to make his way there. He was stopped when something grabbed onto his shoulder.

Alistair whirled around as if to defend himself, but there was no defense against the pair of lips pressed to him. The kiss was sudden but deep. He breathed in the smell of tree sap and moist dirt, with a hint of wildflowers. When his attacker pulled back, he saw the lips belonged to Sheyla the dryad. She offered him a cheeky smirk.

“Welcome back to the world of mortals, handsome,” Sheyla said. Her finger traced the length of his cheekbone. “How do you feel?”

“Like I could take on the world,” he replied, smiling.

“You certainly look like you could.” The dryad squeezed his arms and cooed at how they failed to give way. She nodded toward his horse. “I looked after your friend there for you, kept him company while you were away. Made sure the other boy didn’t take your things.” Her glowing eyes, beautiful to stare at in the dark, swirled with amorous intent. “Perhaps we could finish where we’d left off? Before you went off to become a brave paladin, I mean.”

“You still want to?”

“Oh yes,” she whispered into his ear, pressing her body to him. When she pulled back her grin turned devilish. “And now I have you all to myself. No Fiz and Minnie to get in my way.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be safe to travel when it’s this dark I suppose.” Alistair mirrored her smile with one of his own.

“Mhm.” She nodded, licking her lips. “What better way to spend your first day as a paladin, than with a lovely girl in your arms? Come with me.” She gently tugged on his wrist to pull him back into the safety of the forest. Together the two walked hand in hand into the darkness together.

It wouldn’t be until early the next morning Alistair managed to get any sleep. Sheyla treated him more than well that night, as if he needed another memory to make the day unforgettable. She’d done it though, the tree nymph had.

With a parting kiss from her and a promise to return someday, Alistair got on his trusty steed and prepared for his next adventure. He felt like one of the men in those dryad fairy tales, except he managed to walk off of his own accord. His grin couldn’t be wider though, and his head filled with nothing but bliss.