Day swiftly shifted to evening in the aftermath of the battle. Miraculously, the fog let up somewhat, as if the defeat of the undead’s first wave had weakened its advance. This seemed to be all the evidence Dogan needed to encourage the alderman Tamas to throw a proper celebration. And so, to appease the senior paladin’s demands, the villagers gathered and did their best to welcome their two saviors.
Alistair, for his part, had been loath to encourage such a frivolous, and in his opinion premature, festivity. Yet, he also felt somewhat constrained by his test of mettle, the challenge set to him by the paragon of Wind. He’d been bid to take the advice of Dogan, follow in his footsteps, and learn something from him. In the end, it was Alistair’s decision. The Wind spirit couldn’t force him to do anything.
He ultimately decided there wasn’t much risk of another attack, at least for a short while, and so he did his best to follow Dogan’s example and tried to have some fun.
At the moment, the two paladins were occupied with a dance in the center of the town square. A makeshift band had gathered to play a cheerful jig for the town’s prettiest and most handsome. On the sidelines, proud parents and jealous siblings clapped and cheered for the dancing couples. Around them, makeshift bonfires and food tables had been set up and folk of all ages milled about. All of them were trying not to think about the danger that resided just a short while out of town.
Dogan maintained his spot as the center of attention. He expertly threw the girl in his arms around, twirling her to and fro. His toothy grin seemed to glimmer in the evening light with otherworldly cleanliness. Out of his armor, he had a very attractive tone of skin, more dark and exotic than the folk of Bredon. Apparently, he was from out west, the duchy of Creag, nearer to the coast. Even his hair managed to keep a fluffy and voluminous shape to it. The people simply couldn’t get enough of him.
Alistair kept his distance and just did his best not to make a fool of himself. He hadn’t the practice nor the moves of his noble compatriot. The times he’d been made to dance like this he could count on one hand. It was all he could do to make sure he kept up with the beat and not lose his footing. Still, the girl he’d been paired with had been a lovely counterpart so far. Together, the two of them somehow managed to keep up with the showoff.
“I’m Ava,” the girl whispered in his ear during a more intimate moment. She went twirling away, her dress billowing beneath her. On her return, she swept an auburn bang aside as it got in the way. “You are the one they call Alistair of Wyrdwood, are you not?”
“I am.” Alistair and Ava both clapped their hands to the jig, dancing now parallel to one another. “I was here not so long ago though, I didn’t have the chance to meet many folk here. A bit busy.” They pulled away, then returned. “With the dragon business and all,” he continued.
“Of course, the whole town knows that much. We have you to thank for our lives, after all,” Ava said, punctuating her words with honeyed laughter. “Though I suppose that makes it twice we owe you now!”
Alistair grinned. “It’s my duty. No need to thank me!” They stepped apart from one another as another couple passed between them, arm in arm. “Besides, I didn’t save your village alone. I’ve had plenty of help.” He glimpsed at Dogan as the man put on a showy dip of the maiden in his arms. The girl looked completely smitten, as did half the onlookers.
“You needn’t be so modest, milord,” Ava said. She interlaced her fingers with Alistair’s, forced his hand on her hip, and gave him a playful wink. “Though I’ll admit, I expected most paladins to be more like that one over there. He’s really basking in the attention, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” He eyed his fellow paladin with a critical glance.
Alistair didn’t quite share her jovial take on Dogan’s behavior. It wasn’t that he disliked the man, they’d barely gotten to know each other after all. There was just something about his lack of concern that bothered Alistair. Maybe the summoner had dealt with a dullahan before and considered the challenge well in hand. The conflicting thought that truly bothered Alistair was the chance that Dogan’s confidence had no foundation, that he had no reason to act like this other than out of pure whimsy.
The Fisher King’s warning might have been weighing too heavily on his conscience. What if that was the lesson the paragon spirit was trying to get across? It might have made him meet Dogan as a roundabout way of telling him to loosen up. Even before he’d been made a true paladin, Alistair hadn’t ever felt truly at ease. The new blood felt as if he’d been walking on eggshells the whole journey, forced on a tightrope to maintain the image of a sinless chosen of the Lady.
By all accounts, he could’ve been the odd one out when it came to the ‘proper’ way a paladin of certain repute ought to behave. Maybe it was he who needed to change.
Before too long, the dance naturally came to an end. Alistair’s feet were already getting sore and he was eager to get out of the spotlight. Ava curtsied and looked as though she were about to say something when an arm placed itself over Alistair’s shoulder. Dogan was at his side, grinning like a devil, his dancing partner wrapped in his other arm.
“Come, Alistair! We’re only just getting started,” he said, voice booming over the cheering crowd. Dogan looked Ava up and down and nodded to her. “Well, go on! Grab onto her, don’t let this one slip through your fingers.” He grasped the girl in his hold a little tighter, making her laugh. “We’ll need their help for what comes next!”
“What’s that?” Alistair asked. He forced himself to keep a light tone, despite his growing discomfort.
Dogan gave him an enthusiastic shake. “What do you think?” He nodded to a nearby table, laden with food and drink. “You and I are going to drink until the sun comes up!”
“Drink?” Alistair felt himself being practically dragged in that direction. Ava took him by the other side, her mood mirroring Tolmach. “What about the dullah—”
“Pish!” Dogan exclaimed. “Don’t worry about him. I’ve got my wraith keeping an eye out.” At the table now, he went for the nearest mug and pitcher to pour himself a drink. “And if I’m going to keep that summon going all night, I’ll need plenty of food and drink.” He extended the mug into Alistair’s hand, forcing it on him. “And I’ll need a partner to keep up with me! Now drink.”
Alistair soon found himself in the center of attention again as he and the summoner began to feast. For such a remote village, the people of Bredon had outdone themselves with what was available. He wondered for a bit if the gold he and Broderick had provided had something to do with their brimming food stock. There was a part of him that felt guilty about eating this offering, but Dogan wouldn’t let him get a word in.
When one of them would clear a plate or finish off a mug, Ava and the other girl named Moren were there to keep them going. Folk gathered around to see the paladins and their famed stomachs, to see just how bottomless their guts were. As time went on, the gathered villagers split into two groups: one of sheer awe, the other of barely veiled disgust.
There weren’t many manners at the table, not with Dogan taking the lead. Similar to Broderick, he showed an insatiable appetite as he devoured every meal put in front of him. Alistair could only try and match his pace. The summoner must not have been joking when he said he’d needed the energy to maintain his spell. Even with all the fighting Alistair had done before Dogan had arrived, he still didn’t feel the same need to stuff his mouth with such fervor.
One thing he noticed during their impromptu competition was the enhanced tolerance of a paladin’s body for alcohol. Something about the grail’s power must have lessened the effects of the drink on their senses. Still, as the night went on, he started to feel himself fade. A part of him felt thankful to still have some semblance of a human reaction to copious amounts of ale. It would be strange not to.
From that point on, things got a little blurry for Alistair. He remembered only bits and pieces of what transpired next. A table wiped of all condiments and left with only dirtied platters. Faces, so many faces of all shapes and sizes, silently judging him as he sought the nearest place to lie down. The sweet fragrance of a girl, and the gentle pull on his arm as he was led away to a soft bed. Then nothing but sweet sleep.
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Alistair blinked awake. He inhaled, deeply. A familiar scent filled his nostrils. It was the smell of a woman. His vision cleared and it was filled with tawny locks of hair resting next to him on the feather pillow.
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Ava, it must have been.
Their bodies were intertwined, his arm rested over her stomach and her legs locked with his. Alistair felt himself blush when he realized neither of them was wearing any clothes. She remained sound asleep, her rosy lips shaped into a contented grin even then. For a moment he was reminded of his night with Rozena, the daughter-errant, and how close he’d thought he had been to something like this happening. He should never have let Dogan have his way last night.
As quietly as he could, Alistair extricated himself from the bed and Ava’s warm embrace. She was a sweet girl and a lovely dancing partner, but this wasn’t how he expected the evening to end. At least with the dryad, he’d had his wits about him. Alistair thought that as a paladin he should have been above something like this, ‘Liberality’ be damned.
He couldn’t suffer such distractions. Not with a dullahan on the loose.
Alistair got dressed, enough to be decent at least, and left the room. Ava slept through his efforts, as best as he could tell. Better to let her rest. He didn’t feel the need to sleep further, nor did he need to rest his head. Despite his heavy drinking, he lacked the accompanying hangover. A small comfort from the grail no doubt.
Gathering his wits, he soon discovered that he’d been taken to a familiar place. The inn he’d stayed in just a little over a month ago. Alistair went down the stairs to find the place still quiet and—thank the Lady—empty of any patrons. Somewhere in the back, he heard the occasional sound and some scraping. The owner must have been working back there to get ready for the day. Alistair did his best to avoid the man’s attention and went straight for the front door. He needed some fresh air.
Alistair swung the door open and felt a shiver run up his spine. It was even colder outside. If nothing else the brisk morning air served to fully wake him better than any remedy could.
“Ah, there’s the conqueror himself.” Alistair heard someone call out to him with a definitively haggard voice. He found Dogan pressed against the wall, one hand limply holding a flagon of what Alistair could only imagine being more alcohol. The rough-looking man held up his glass. “A toast to our fortuitous night.” He drunkenly gulped it all down in one crude go, punctuating his cheer with an unbecoming burp.
“You saw all that?” Alistair was horrified.
“Saw it?” Dogan gave him a mischievous side-eye. “I practically orchestrated it. Not that I needed to do much. The girl clearly wanted a piece of a paladin anyway.” He shrugged off Alistair’s look of disbelief. “Come now, Alistair. There’s no better feeling than that of a woman’s touch, especially before one goes to battle. Besides,” he continued, smirking as he did, “it looked like you needed it.”
Alistair’s disbelief soon turned to disgust, then to anger. Not just because of the manipulation, or the forced partying, but because it was clear to Alistair that Dogan hadn’t stopped drinking since last night. If the man had managed to get any sleep, Alistair couldn’t rightfully tell. All the while, Dogan knew full well the danger still literally on the horizon encircling the town, and still, he drank anyway.
“Is that all you could think about last night?” Alistair asked, shaking and seething. He took a menacing step toward the drunk. “We’re meant to protect these people, not make fools out of ourselves!”
If Dogan felt at all intimidated by Alistair, he certainly didn’t show it. Before the senior paladin could form a response, the door of the tavern creaked open. A girl, he recognized her as Moren from last night, crept outside. She seemed startled to see them there. A doe caught redhanded by the hunter, wrinkled dress and all.
Moren offered them a sheepish grin and quickly bowed her head in silent greeting. Dogan’s smirk widened and he squeezed her rump as she went by, laughing as she started to blush. Alistair could only shake his head as the man watched his bedmate skitter off, whistling at her. What a slovenly display, he thought.
“See? Your Ava wasn’t the only conquest of last night!” Dogan rested his forehead against the wall of the inn as if to soothe it. He hummed a tune that mirrored the jig from last night, in all its jolly glory. “With the kind of renown we have, there isn’t much of a challenge to backwater village girls like them. They fall head over heels for heroes like us. And no need to worry about an angry lord or baron coming after you for ending up in her bedchambers! Hah!”
“Listen to yourself!” Alistair raised his voice, unable to listen to the droll spewing from this so-called ‘noble’s’ mouth. “You don’t sound anything like a paladin should. We aren’t here to fornicate! There’s a dullahan for us to fight, people to save!”
“You’re right, of course.” Dogan straightened up, somewhat sobered by the added tension of their conversation. “We’re both here for our rewards. A piece of artifact gear, and a whole heaping amount of renown for killing a dullahan.” The summoner padded his perspiring forehead with the back of his hand. “Sometimes I get a bit carried away before battle, that’s all. No harm meant.”
He didn’t sound convincing at all.
“I was brought here by an artifact quest, sure, but we’re here to protect these people. That’s our duty as paladins.” Alistair got nothing but an odd stare from his compatriot. “Well, isn’t it?”
“Heh, well yes I suppose us defeating the dullahan will mean saving the village. If that’s what you meant,” said Dogan. He began to laugh as if he were in on a joke that Alistair wasn’t privy to. “I’m sorry, I have to remind myself where you’re from. You must have never gotten much mentorship from paladins out in a place like Wyrdwood, in the middle of nowhere.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hah!” the summoner exclaimed, still laughing. “This must have been why you and I were destined to meet. Who would have thought the Lady would have me become the teacher rather than the student this time? Allow me to give you some advice then. And heed it well, for these same words were given to me by some of the most lauded paladins roaming these lands!”
Dogan paused as if for dramatic effect. “Are you listening? Excellent. To live a good life as a paladin, your renown is everything. Whether you were a noble or peasant before sipping from the grail, it doesn’t matter. You live and die by your reputation with the masses.” He jabbed a thumb into his chest. “As soon as I made supplicant, I went straight for the duchy of Alban. They have the best tourney circuits there, my father said. I wasn’t able to participate quite yet, but I met many paladins. The tourneys in the capital are rife with them! And they all said the same thing: renown is all that matters.”
“Why?” Alistair found it hard to swallow that veteran members of the Lady’s chosen would say such things. That they would value something like vanity over their duties as paladins sounded disgraceful.
“Why do you think?” He swung his arms out wide. “Look around you!” Dogan stepped close, his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Simple folk like this. They exist to support people like you and me. Not their liege lords, not their aldermen.” Alistair edged away, unable to take the stench of his breath. “Paladins, we’re at the top of the pecking order. We deserve to be rewarded for the risks we take. And to get those rewards, we need renown. That’s why I’m here.”
Alistair didn’t think Dogan could have made him more outraged. His fists shook, skin flushed red. How callous could one man be?!
“Ah, well it’s not just for the dullahan renown I suppose,” Dogan added after a moment to think. “Earning that artifact will put me in much better shape to win tourneys. That’s where real reputation is earned. Not hunting monsters or saving damsels, but fighting in a proper Grand Melee, or even better a game of King’s Chess if you can swing an invite. Haven’t managed it myself yet, just duels so far.” The summoner cracked his knuckles. “With the dullahan essence, I’ll be tournament-ready in no time. Right back to the capital for me after this thing’s over.”
“So, that’s all this is to you? Just a game to get your name out there?” Alistair could hardly resist the urge to punch the smug off this man’s chin. “What about your duty as a paladin? The Lady’s watching us even now, judging us!”
“Come now, Alistair.” Dogan sighed, disappointed by his junior. “If the Lady truly cared enough, don’t you think she would have made a proper example out of the paladins that gave me this advice? You see, the truth is simple. We still fulfill our obligations when we’re called upon to by the Lady, or by the King, or whatever lord we swear allegiances to. And if we happen to be close to a place under attack, we’ll do our duty.
“But more than that, well, we ought to enjoy our time in the comforts of the nicest castles and keeps that dot the land. The more central the better. Less chance of danger there, and plenty of entertainment to be had. Always a tourney around to keep your skills sharp, and if you lack a parcel of land to call your own, just woo a noble’s daughter. That’s all there is to living the good life as a paladin.”
Alistair refused to believe that the proud men and women that called themselves paladins believed any of this. The warriors of the Alban dukedom were known throughout the land as the most fierce and most loyal to the cause of the Lady. They were sworn to serve the King himself, for pity's sake!
“You can’t be—”
“Milords!”
Their conversation was interrupted by a young man. He looked pale, like he’d seen a ghost. Before he reached them he almost tripped over his own two feet, he was in such a rush. With a shaky arm, he pointed toward the east, toward the encroaching fog.
“I-In the fields, somethin’ took Ulen!”
The paladins exchanged a knowing glance. Dogan’s hand reached for his relic token, two golden sallet helmets half-fused. His body turned white and in a moment he’d transformed into his goldenrod relic mantle. Alistair soon followed suit, taking the form of the Aegis.
Without any brotherly words of encouragement or gestures of solidarity, the two paladins marched together, and yet also separately, to the plowed fields. They went to face their shared foe so that they wouldn’t be forced to tear each other apart.