“Halt!”

Flencer waved at the imperial soldier manning a post beside the road. The party had been travelling for a couple of days now and looked as bad as they smelled.

Kaleb moved up from the back of the wagon to join Flencer and address the soldier who brought their wagon to a stop. More men of the imperial were making their way toward the wagon.

“Good afternoon…” he searched for the soldier's rank patch but it was missing…his uniform was quite out of sorts, “Soldier…”

He grunted, “What’s your business?”

Kaleb glanced at Flencer quickly. “Paladin duties.”

“Let’s see your writ of passage.”

Kaleb cleared his throat. His writ had his name and house on it, and he was supposed to be dead. Furthermore, something was off with this guard. “I think my presence alone should do the trick don’t you think? Wouldn’t want you looking foolish having me fetch up my writ.”

“Paladin without a horse is awfully foolish.”

Kaleb frowned harshly and feined an angry outburst. “My horse, the hero that he is, died a death on this journey, and I’d have you not refer to me as foolish, underling!”

The other soldiers had caught up. Among them was a captain, identified by four blue stripes down his pauldron. “What’s all this?”

The guard manning the station saluted and stepped back. “Sir, we have travellers. One claiming to be a Paladin.”

The captain smiled at Kaleb, his eyes flicked black so very rapidly. Kaleb maintained his demeanour, it seems the local military was not safe from this corruption. Fighting a horde of pick axe-wielding peasants was one thing, but an organised force with proper training and equipment would result in deaths, Kaleb had his limits.

“We’re lookin’ to just move on through to the wildlands.” Flencer had leaned forward and offered his sweetest smile.

“Captain Gregor at your service. You look like you’ve been through the wars, lads–stop here, eat, bathe, we might even find you a horse.” The captain was a tall man with a scruffy head of black hair that was greying down the sides. His voice was slippery, much like the mayor's, not a drop of sincerity. “Let’s see your writ.”

Kaleb shuffled. “Well, perhaps you’d like my name?” he smiled and licked his lip, trying to mimic the behaviour. “It’s Brondius.”

The captain looked at him sternly and leaned forward, Kaleb remained straight-faced but inside his heart was battering his rib cage, he couldn’t outrun a brigade in a wagon. “Well, why didn’t you just say that? Brother,” he laughed and slapped him on the forearm.

“Well, we’ll be going on ahead.”

“Oh, no, no! You must come to the camp, the men would be thrilled to meet a Paladin,” The captain narrowed his eyes. “I insist.”

Kaleb scratched his chin. “Just a short visit.” Kaleb realised he wasn’t going to be allowed to continue his trajectory without being accosted by this worm and so should make merry and piss off without consequence.

The captain directed the wagon down a dirt path that had been made by footsteps of the comings and goings of the soldiers, it was too narrow for the wagon to traverse. Kaleb moved into the back with Iridia and Morgan while Flencer remained up front. “Morgan.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I have use for you,” Kaleb spoke quietly and peeked his head out the back to check no soldiers had come near, the captain was in the distance so he gave him an assured wave.

“Anything, my lord.”

“They want us to join them in their camp.”

“Isn’t that good?” Iridia asked.

“They are black in the eyes.” Kaleb checked outside once more. “They think I am Brondius.” Kaleb wasn’t certain his disguise had been purchased by the captain, but he’d play along for now. “If something should happen you need to make away with the sword at night, Morgan…so you must hide.”

“Hide where?”

Kaleb opened the old trunk. “In there.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

Kaleb hurried him into the trunk. “Take the ring, it opens the magic chest, if anything goes awry, get that sword and dash into the brushes, do not get caught.” Kaleb closed the lid on Morgan's terrified visage.

“You’ll have to walk, no chance getting your wagon down the hill over this path.” The captain had pushed his snout into the back of the wagon just as Kaleb closed the lid.

Iridia waved. “Good afternoon.”

“Oh, there is another one of you?”

“Indeed, three of us.” Kaleb chirped. “Just fetching our equipment.”

“Oh, you won’t need your weapons and such.” The captain's voice slithered through the wagon like a groping tendril, tickling the hairs in Kaleb and Iridia’s ears. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.”

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“All the same, we like to keep our gear close and safe.”

“Very well, sir.”

Flencer clambered into the back with them once the captain had left down toward the camp. Kaleb filled him in on the plan which was to be a brief visit and then away, he told him about Morgan in the chest and Flencer seemed considerably worried, he opened it a touch and whispered something that sounded important and concise.

Iridia was next, she poked her head in the trunk. “Be safe, Morgan, we’ll be back before you know it.”

“I will pray for you, my lady.” Morgan seemed as if he wanted to say something else but kept it to himself. Iridia closed the chest reluctantly and exited the wagon with her weapon and shield. “You must be quiet, Mr. Bard, else we might be in a bad spot.”

The shield hummed. “I heard, even though you are a pig-headed child, I’d prefer to stay in your company for now.”

“Charming.”

Kaleb led the way down the dirt path. The Imperial camp wasn’t busy enough for its size; there were at least one hundred tents and only perhaps thirty men shuffling about lazily. Normally, Kaleb would have many questions but he knew full well why the camp was in this state. He pondered the name of the captain, Gregor, could he be related to the captain of the guard he had sentenced to hang?

The party shimmied down a steep portion of the bank and into the main road that ran through the centre of the tents. They were greeted by a few raggedy guardsmen, none of them seemed “thrilled” to meet a Paladin that was for sure. The next hour they were paraded about the camp by a lieutenant that looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. These were not soldiers anymore.

Dinner was cooking and the three bathed in steel tubs filled with boiled water. It felt good to clean off. Iridia felt a little sorry for Morgan who had been left in the trunk on the wagon. They dressed and met outside their respective tents.

“Where’s our armour and weapons?” Kaleb grunted, lulled by the soothing bath and sweet smells of dinner it seemed. “I brought them in the tent with me but they are gone.”

The captain stood before them. “As I said, you won’t need be needing them, Paladin.”

“As I said, it is my choice and we desire them.” Kaleb stepped forward, in his simple pants and shirt he felt naked. He looked over the soldiers that had formed into a crescent around them, weapons drawn. These would be far too much of a meal for the unarmed trio to handle.

“Take them to the hole, we’ll see who you really are.”

The trio were dragged to a dugout pit about 12 feet deep and thirty feet in diameter. At the bottom was a sludgy gloop of blood and mud decorated with what seemed to be bones and human remains. They were pushed down one by one, landing with a filthy slap and undoing that wonderful bath they were treated to.

Flencer worked himself to his feet but struggled with the sinking sludge that sucked him down. “I had a feeling this would end poorly.”

“They’ll find Morgan in that chest.” Iridia looked up at the darkening sky where grey clouds sailed the endless sea, threatening to flood their hole with a generous downpour.

Kaleb wretched and spat into his hand.

“Are you alright?” Flencer approached clumsily.

“Yes.” He held up the whisper stone. “Old trick.” He held the saliva-coated stone to his lips. “Morgan, get out of there, go now.” He held the stone in his palm and waited with bated breath, Iridia was holding onto his arm for balance, looking on. The stone glowed green. No sound. Once more.

“Mummy, mummy I want my milky milks!” The stone flittered green catching portions of wretched laughter, it was clear the guards already had him and were routing through their valuables. The trio felt helpless.

“You’re making a huge mistake!” Kaleb called up to the guard who stood watch over them, he looked down and responded by spitting into the hole.

After an hour in the filthy pit, the rain had enough of floating in the clouds, it pissed over the three and chilled them to their bones. They weren’t concerned with their discomfort however, what they were doing with Morgan was plaguing their minds with guilt and fear.

Another guard approached the lip of the hole and muttered something to the first, after a minute or so; a rope ladder cascaded down. “Captain wants you, out the hole scum!”

They climbed out and pulled themselves over one by one, Kaleb came first and was quickly surrounded by five or six men. They led them through the camp while onlookers spat or laughed. The camp reeked, the rain had brought out the stench of the flesh that was buried in the ground.

They were brought to the large mess tent which had been re-arranged, a stage at the front with the captain and few men standing on it, guards sat on the tables and laughed at the festivities. Morgan was alive and by the light from the lanterns which caught his face, he wasn’t in good shape.

“Oh, new guests!” The captain clapped and danced as the three lined up at the back. He was wielding Kaleb's hammer playfully and swinging it at another soldier who was blocking it with the shield, at least it didn’t say “ow.” “Look at me! I’m a paladin lads!” The small crowd guffawed before the captain dropped the hammer and took a serious tone. “So why were you hiding this little shit?”

Kaleb lifted his chin and kept a staunch silence, he’d only speak if the question was relevant now.

“Strong silent type he is.” The captain dragged the magic chest next to Morgan who was standing, shivering and only in his underwear, blood ran down the sides of his face and over his chest. “How do we get in here?”

“You don’t.” Kaleb smiled.

Iridia bit her lip till it bled and tears welled in her eyes, Morgan had done nothing to deserve this.

“We might have to fix you like we fixed your mate here.” he grabbed Morgan by the back of the neck, he squealed as he ripped his hair back, showing off his rounded ears they had savagely cut down and shaped like Humans. “See, he had funny ears like an Elf.”

Iridia’s eyes released tears as she saw the damage. His eyes were black, his face and body cut and his identity had been mutilated. Yet, they still hadn’t opened the chest, this means Morgan had endured such agony and not given them an inch.

“How about we start with the little, girl?”

Iridia was pushed forward and gripped by two guards, They hauled her to the stage next to Morgan, she looked at him and mouthed; “I’m sorry.” Morgan shook his head and gave her a sad smile.

“I say, we start with her eyes, how about we take them?” The captain through his arms up and the tent cheered.

Flencer and Kaleb looked at each other and nodded, it was time for them to fight, unarmed and outmanned, there was no other option.

“You won’t do anything to her!” Morgan cried, his voice shattered. “I’ll open the chest, just don’t hurt her.”

As much as Kaleb didn’t want Iridia and Morgan to come to harm, that chest was worth dying for, its contents were too valuable, and it couldn’t be given to them. Morgan's heart burned for Iridia it was clear, and this is how love can bring down a nation. He looked at Morgan who caught his glance, Morgan winked with his bloody eye.