“You! Boy!” Kaleb pushed a table out of the way.

“My, Lord?” He backed into the corner. “Is everything alright?” Morgan didn’t have room to hide, dance or prance out of the way of Kaleb in the little house of Zale, a street corner philosopher peddling cheap platitudes on the street corner might describe it as righteous poverty, tossing away material goods for a simple life of true actualisation.

“Why did you tell the council that the girl ran off?”

“M-my Lord, I submitted the report to save you time–I simply–”

“Oh, you have done it this time.” Kaleb lifted his hammer that Morgan had carefully placed on the steel stand over the mantle piece.

“My, Lord!” Morgan squealed like a piglet. “I told the truth! You told me to always tell the truth.”

Kaleb raised his chin and nodded. “Yes, I did. Which is why I’m giving you a promotion!”

“Oh, please don’t I’m sorry my Lord.” Morgan raised his hands and a leg to cower in the corner before his quaking subsided. “A p-promotion?”

“Chief training officer.” Kaleb made it up on the spot, but it was his house and he could make up whatever ranks and titles he liked. Kaleb dropped his hammer on the table and trotted off into the bedroom. Iridia and Morgan stood across from each other and listened to scraping, creaking, a few curses and then a: “Ah hah!” Kaleb returned with a weapon proudly held aloft, your new weapon Neophyte Iridia of house Zale.”

Iridia frowned as she looked the sword up and down, her hands moved to her hip and she scoffed. “Why would that be my new weapon? It’s made of wood.”

Kaleb looked at the wooden training sword and back at Iridia. “It’s all I have, also, you need to train on live targets and I can’t have you slicing limbs off of poor souls now can I?” Kaleb leaned in and tilted his head, eyes bright with a patronising gleam.

“I thought you wanted me to smith.” Iridia took the sword tentatively, her delicate fingers curling around the splintery hilt. She waved it a few times. “I did have a real weapon you know?”

“Even a smith should wield a weapon with skill and such and so forth, and your real sword is not my property, your gold is though. Did you have any gold lying about?”

Iridia shook her head as she stood with the wooden sword by her side. “No. We were a simple house that maintained and protected country folk, nothing much in wares but our swords and our hearts.” Iridia recited with pride.

Kaleb pursed his lips. “Just my luck, bumpkin warriors.” He looked back at Iridia. “You seem to be taking the death of your mentor rather well, I am impressed by your stoic nature at least.”

Iridia paused. “I only met him that day, he said he wanted to escape the drollness of the city.” She looked around Kaleb's house. It was bare but for a couple of tables where a wooden mug lay, wallowing in loneliness. The mantelpiece had a stand for Kaleb's hammer and there was an empty lectern.

“Ah, a perfect cover, alas he was a raping, murdering scoundrel.” Kaleb beamed. “I bet I saved you from him. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“My Lord is quite the Justiciar.” Morgan had stepped forward, interjecting with a finger held aloft.

“Indeed I am, helper boy.” Kaleb placed his hands on his hips and basked for a moment.

“He’s a bloody liability.”

Kaleb frowned and sneered. “A liability?” He pointed at his hammer. “You’re the liability, you cost a fortune to maintain!”

“Maybe if you balanced your books, look at this house, it’s emptier than a councilman's head!”

Kaleb stormed past Iridia and raised the hammer so he was face-to-face with it. “I won’t have you disrespecting me in front of the help and the new trainee.” He twirled the hammer and scoffed. “He’s been like this for years now.”

“The last Paladin of Zale had the house in order you know.” The hammer would emit a dim glow as it spoke. Its voice was forthright and that of a mighty young warrior, it didn’t suit being caged inside an inanimate object.

“Well, he’s dead and you have me.”

Iridia pointed at the hammer. “Is that the legendary infused hammer, soul linked with Zale himself?” Iridia stepped forward.

“It sure is!” The hammer buzzed brightly. “Perhaps you have heard of my deeds!”

“I have, my father told me about you, and some other famous Paladins.”

Kaleb shook his head and handed the hammer to Iridia so she could speak with it. “Here, enjoy, talk to the hammer.”

“I am looking forward to reading about your tales in the House Ledger.”

“Ha!” The hammer vibrated in Iridia’s hands. “You could have, but Kaleb and his holy pockets here sold it!”

Morgan leaned in. “For a good price, My Lord is quite the financier.”

“Indeed, helper boy,” Kaleb smirked as his attention was drawn to the door. On the other side, a frantic rapping rattled the hinges, the poxy glass window at the top of the door filled with a shadow, too stained and blurry to make anyone out in particular. “Irida, practise your striking on Morgan out back, I have a guest it seems and I don’t know if they will be savoury.”

Iridia sighed as she was led out the back into a small garden by Morgan with hammer in hand, the back door clanked shut and Kaleb bellowed: “ENTER!”

The door opened to reveal a woman sobbing into a hanky. Kaleb’s eyes rolled up into his frowning brow. “Crying. My Lady, I do not deal well with such tears!” From outside Morgan could be heard yelping in pain after a series of smacking cracks that seemed to echo through the small house.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Sorry, it’s just.”

“Speak please, I am so very busy.” Kaleb crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly. His chest puffed out and his large body seemed to fill the room even more than normal.

“My husband, John Gregor.”

“Ah yes, fat man, hanging due.” Kaleb tutted and shook his head. From outside Morgan could be heard pleading with Iridia not to use the hammer and the hammer itself shouting words of encouragement. “If you want the hanging time tables I don’t have them, I understand they are a popular event.”

“No! I want you to halt the punishment, it’s cruel.”

“Has new evidence surfaced which may change the judgement?” One of Kaleb’s brows peaked with curiosity.

“Well, no.” The lady glanced down at her hands.

“Has he committed an act of heroism which may offer him redemption through smaller sentencing? Such as saving a child or group of children?”

“No, it’s just unfair that…”

Kaleb strode before the woman with nostrils flaring, mouth flat and body heaving with a controlled rage that seemed fit to burst from his chest with a righteous explosion of light. “Unfair?”

“Well, he fenced those valuables…”

“Those known magical and dangerous artefacts.” Kaleb's correction came through a low growl. Iridia and Morgan had postponed their training session to peer through the window and listen into the mental joust about to occur, one which surely would come up a loss for the wife of the accused for in the eyes of Kaleb, a crime is as black as a punishment is white and it was as simple as that.

“Well, it happened before he became the captain of the guard, and he is to be hanged, but if he wasn’t the captain he’d be lashed and shamed.” She adjusted her dress and pointed her nose up, meeting her gaze with Kaleb’s, safe in the knowledge he was a man of reason. It was well known that Kaleb practically revelled in his judgements being challenged. With her pang of confidence, she added: “It’s clear he should be charged based on his time before his term as captain.” She breathed a sigh and nodded.

Kaleb’s eyes widened and he fixed his eyes to hers. He watched every flinch of her face, the quirk in her lip and the twitch of her right eye. He waited in silence until her eyes fell away and she opened her mouth to speak again.

“I’d do anything to have you reconsider.” She brought her hand to her shoulder and eased her dress strap down to show off her dainty collarbone. A squeak and a rattle at the window from Morgan snapped their attention away for the briefest of moments, Iridia and Morgan had ducked in time.

“I will ignore the advance, my lady.”

She brought her strap back up and looked down with cheeks flushed.

Kaleb continued. “He accepted his position knowing his sordid past, which I consider even more unforgivable. He took responsibility over the people knowing he was already corrupt.”

“But!”

Kaleb pressed his finger to her lips. “Good news though.”

She tilted her head, mouth latched by that chunky finger.

“I have a little errand to run and I have yet to fill out the paperwork, so the hanging I imagine will be delayed by a good month, which will give you plenty of time to visit him in the dungeons to reminisce over those precious moments you both spent together.” Kaleb released her lips and nodded dutifully.

The lady burst into tears, weeping uncontrollably by the door. Kaleb ushered her out and slammed the door before releasing a heavy sigh. Iridia and Morgan had sneaked in and were staring at him.

“That was a bit harsh, no?” Iridia spoke where Morgan wouldn’t dare, he had seen too often the unmovable line that Kaleb set. Kaleb dealt with Paladins and higher-ups exclusively.

Kaleb approached Iridia and brought his arm around her shoulders, leading her out into the courtyard at the front of the house across from the council halls. It was busy with important officials dashing about and important thinkers discussing topics of great importance. The clean streets were adorned with golden planters that sprouted lush green ferns that glowed. “If you are to be a Paladin of Zale, and there is to only be one, for the power we wield strikes fear into the greatest soldiers of righteousness, both by our might and the weight of pen in office, then you need to understand what you are looking at.” He waved his hands across the human traffic that flowed by like a river.

“A bunch of rich people?” She glanced up at him and then back to the courtyard.

“You are looking at vessels, some empty, some full and everything in between. These vessels are filled with one thing only.”

“What?” She shrugged.

“Corruption.” Kaleb smiled down at Iridia. “Everyone, if they live long enough, from peasant to Paladin will be seduced by the taint of corruption.” He stepped around and in front of Iridia, kneeling enough so his face was level with hers. “It’s our job, to find it, and kill it.”

“Does that include you?” She raised an eyebrow, expecting a clever act of mental acrobatics to relieve him of such personal responsibility.

“Especially me, if I am corrupted, your ascendence to the honour of Paladin of Zale will be through the crushing of my skull under the weight of your hammer of justice.” He stood tall once more. “Of course, I would die before I am corrupted.” He smiled.

“Right. Sounds like a lonely house.”

“Oh, it is, Iridia.” He moved to her flank once more. “A house I do not think you are suited for.” He slapped her on the shoulder. “Hence why we shall sally forth and find you a new posting.”

“But the council sai–”

“The council are fools and will come to my way of thinking, they always do.” He slapped her back and she shunted forward.

The trio walked together through the city of Angelspree. Paladins of all ilks and fortune made way for Kaleb. Some offered a nod, some turned away none of them uttered a word in his direction. Iridia would glance back and notice a bustle of hushed chatter now and again. Kaleb paid them no heed and marched on. Iridia hadn’t noticed but Kaleb was a bit of a giant, he towered over most, she supposed it was the whirlwind of occurrences and experiences that had fogged her usual perceptive nature.

“So.” Morgan had moved up beside Iridia who was now a few paces behind the great strides of Kaleb. “You, eh, always been a Paladin?”

“Since the day I was born to my father.” She gave the slender lad a sideways glance.

“I see, well, if you should need anything you call on me.” He nodded. “I’m your helper boy too you know.”

“Right.”

“You can even have my bed, we only have two.”

“Right.”

“I am always happy to share.”

“Share your bed?”

“Well, no I mean…”

She frowned and tilted her head at Morgan who had fallen behind quickly before he talked himself into more trouble. Kaleb had stopped before a menacing castle-looking structure, the masonry work of giants it seemed. Huge blocks of black stone and towering furnaces belched plumes of flames that roared like dragons. “What is this place?”

“House of the Steelmen.” Kaleb had turned to face them and opened his arms. “Your new soon-to-be home!” He clapped and led them into the grimacing gateway towards Iridia’s true future.