The trio was greeted with a quick nod by the statuesque door guards who stood in dim grey armour that stood empty yet firm. The greatest honour for a Paladin of the House of Steelmen was to be soul-linked with an entire suit of armour, hidden knowledge let them do what others could not; walk the world after death rather than be carried about as a talking trinket. The greatest fear of any soul-bound object was to be lost to the wilderness or sink to the bottom of a lake to suffer aeons of loneliness.

The doors opened with a grumble and Iridia’s eyes lit up with a flash of ruby. A hall of clashing hammers, rivers of crimson and vats of oil hissing as the Paladins of the craft quenched their creations. A few Paladins glanced at Kaleb and co, but none moved from their post.

A woman was pacing up and down the centre, calling out instructions and offering advice. “You’re overworking that steel neophyte!” She trailed off when she caught sight of Kaleb. She retied her mangy auburn hair and strode towards him, her sooty features twisted in annoyance. “Paladin of Zale, Kaleb.” She forced a sour smile. “How can I help?”

Kaleb bowed his head. “Paladin of the Steelmen, Torina, I do not need your help, in fact, I bring you a gift.”

Torina raised an eyebrow and searched Iridia and Morgan's faces with her azure eyes, they had a piercing gaze and could rend truth from all but the strongest of wills. Morgan quivered a little before those blue eyes found Kaleb’s. “What gift?”

Kaleb swiftly took Iridia by the wrist and dragged her in front of him, facing her towards Torina, he placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled wide. “A new neophyte, for you, free, she’s touched by the divine heart and likes to make things.”

“I don’t like making thin–”

Kaleb shook her to shush. “She loves making things.”

Torina’s face had softened and a genuine smile had replaced that once stiffened lower lip, She pulled her leather gloves off and stuffed them in her belt pouch. “We are full.” She looked at Irida and warmed her smile further, a glint in those blue orbs put her at ease. Iridia thought that Paladin Torina would be preferable to Kaleb as a master, there was something hypnotic about her.

“Surely you could make space for one more?”

Iridia was now nodding along to Kaleb's persuasive attempts, perhaps Torina would take pity on her and save her from Kaleb. Torina looked at Iridia’s face once more which had now taken on a puppy dog plea.

“I would like to learn,” Iridia added.

“No.” Torina’s terse rejection deflated Iridia and sent a flustering huff through Kaleb's chest. “She is your neophyte and you must take her on your quest, the council deemed it so.”

Kaleb pushed Iridia aside and squared down to Torina, his green eyes glowed a feint gold but Torina was unmoved, where most Paladins would step back she stood her ground. “How do you know?” He clenched his jaw and arched over Torina. The Paladins working down the flanks stole glances but dared not pause their work.

Torina hesitated a moment, Kaleb’s intimidation might not be effective but the threat of investigation was at the very least troublesome. Carefully she picked her words. “Some Paladins can’t keep their mouths clamped, it’s not my fault I am in range of their flapping.”

Kaleb straightened and tightened his mouth. “Zeth.” He scratched his chin. “I may have to wire his mouth closed, I assume everyone knows about my departure?”

Torina chuckled. “Know? I believe a small party is being organised to commemorate your disappearance over the Eastern ridge.” Torina stepped towards Kaleb. “Look.” she placed her hand on his chest. “Why don’t you take her with you, patch up with the Elves, get her experience and move her along to one of the diplomatic houses?”

Kaleb looked at Iridia like a kitchen tender would a tower of dirty dishes, she could feel his disappointment wash over her followed by a wave of dread at the thought of how she’d be punished for such inconvenience. She could do no right it seemed. “Fine!” Iridia jumped at Kaleb's exclamation, a hand pulling her free from a moment of near drowning.

Morgan leaned in. “It would be nice to have Iridia as company for the journey.”

Irida looked at Morgan with a sneer, her eyes vibrating. She didn’t need helper boy sealing her fate with this obnoxious, self-indulgent madman.

“She’ll need armour, I am sure you can donate to the cause.”

Torina shook her head. “Kaleb, you still haven’t paid for the repairs to your hammer.”

“It’s a fresh debt.”

“Two years.”

“Been that long? You did a good job it’s still like new.”

Torina nodded and crossed her arms. “Sorry, you’ll need to pay.”

Kaleb walked passed Torina and lifted a chest plate from a table a youngster was working at. “How about this? It’s junk, surely you can donate this.”

“Hey!” The neophyte reached to snatch the armour but was stunned by Kaleb’s glare. “It’s-it’s not finished.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Nonsense.” Kaleb pulled Iridia's tabard away and tossed it to Torina, the mirky green cloth wrapped around her face. He dropped the armour over Iridia’s head and held out his hands. “See, perfect, it even covers your knees so we don’t need leggings!”

“It’s too big, this is for a giant!” Iridia rattled from her steel bubble.

“It is actually for Magnus the Mighty’s son, he is considered a giant.” Torina nodded.

Irida huffed and whimpered. “Look, I’ll just go without armour.”

“Too dangerous! I’ll be blamed if you die, can’t have that.”

“Don’t want that either!” Morgan added. “You dying that is, Iridia.” He placed a hand on her plated shoulder.

Iridia was upset but did her best to keep from letting tears escape, it was the sight of her father's tabard being tossed away like a dirty rag that compounded her situation, she remained stoic but it was clear that Torina could see through the mask.

“How about we look at some already made armour? We have plenty.” Torina smiled knowingly at Iridia. “They are cheap too.”

“Fine!” Kaleb clapped. “How much?”

“Seven hundred…” Torina watched Kaleb as he smouldered with ire.

“Right, let it be known that you would not donate to young girl, You dislike young girl and want young girl to die.”

Torina shook her head. “Right, Kaleb, a weapon too? Or will she be travelling with that stick?”

Kaleb shot a glance at Iridia. “What are you proficient in and where is your weapon?”

Iridia bit her lip. “I am trained with spear and buckler and I lost it.”

“You lost it, clumsy as you are expensive.”

“I was fishing with it and a monster pike snatched it away.”

Kaleb raised his chin and half smiled. “Fishing? Hm.” He pushed Iridia into Torina’s arms. “Outfit her and arm her, I shall be back shortly.”

Kaleb and Morgan strode out into the street, the population were clinging to the shade as the height of day's heat burned down on the cobbles. It was cooler out here than in the forge house so they both enjoyed the stingy breeze that would whisk down the streets far too infrequently for comfort. “Paper, boy and quill.”

Morgan handed Kaleb a slice of paper and prepped the quill from a little corked stopped pot he kept in his satchel. “Of course.”

Kaleb scratched a few notes on the sheet and returned it to Morgan. “Go to the Bucks brunt inn, find a buyer, no less than that number, any more and I might buy you a new hat.”

Morgan saluted. “I will not disappoint you!” He clicked his heels and darted away, folding into the crowd and round a corner, leaving Kaleb a moment alone which are the moments he enjoyed the most.

The questing house swayed with the coming and going of Paladins, neophytes and servants, picking up items and scrolls that held on them the coming duties. Some Paladins mainly remained within the city to seek out corruption. Others would be sent out to far-off lands in search of great foes or even lead many of the armies under the imperial command. The sight of a powerful Paladin on the field was often awe-inspiring, if not costly to the Emperor's coffers. However even righteous warriors of the Divine heart must be fed and clothed, and they could eat a lot.

After twenty minutes of queuing Kaleb arrived at the desk where the questing house servants busied themselves with ordering, rolling, stacking and stamping. “Ah, good afternoon Kaleb, ‘ow goes the ol’ house?”

“I’m here for my orders.”

“Ah, right you are, right you are milord.” The stocky dwarf bowed his head and waddled into the back room, emerging with a shimmering scroll. “Golden scroll, eh, very important tha’ Elf business eh?”

Kaleb narrowed his eyes. “How would you know what business is on that scroll?”

“W-well I ‘ad to stamp it and check it and all that, didn’t fink you was comin’”

“Why didn’t you–-fink–I was coming?” Kaleb’s lip raised with a quizzical quirk, waiting for the busybody Dwarf to explain his waffle, how he did love making them sweat.

“Well, it’s been sittin’ ere fer a week eh, usually important ones like this is swept up all quick like.”

Kaleb snatched the scroll and broke the wax seal to unfurl it, reading through the luxurious lettering that seemed as if it danced on the leaf rather than being scraped on by the tip of a feather. “When was this seal melted?” Kaleb growled.

The Dwarf raised his hands. “Ah–eh–last week.”

“Liar!” Kaleb rolled up the scroll. “Impossible!”

“I swears on the Divine Heart itsef milord, I did that seal meself!” He looked around to his colleagues who had quickly made themselves busy, shuffling out of the way into dark corners and behind shelves stacked with scrolls.

Kaleb re-read the scroll to make sure his eyes were not being deceived by magic words that moved across the page to confuse. No, there it was; clear instructions to bring along and train the neophyte, even named in the scroll. “Who gave you this scroll?”

“I shouldn’t say, milord.”

“Who?”

“Well, fing is, only councilmen or their direct servants can submit a scroll like tha’ and he was well cloak and dagger-like, you know, all shades and darkness.”

“Who was it?”

“I dunno milord, but he came with the seal of the council, I promise that’s all I know!”

“If I find out you lied to me I’ll have you flogged by Orcs.”

“Ah nah milord, not Orcs!”

“Big ones.”

“NO!”

The room of Paladins made way for Kaleb as he marched out. He could feel their chatter rouse behind him. Everyone knew about this mission except him, he was aware of every stare and glance. He thought about his next plan of action. He turned and went back into the questing house. “Dwarf!” he held up the scroll and waded through the queue. “Where is the Dwarf I was just speaking to?”

The desk was now manned by a lady Dwarf. “Eh–he went out back milord.”

Kaleb lept over the desk.

“You can’t go back–”

He burst out into the alley behind the questing house, a rabble of the commotion was sealed away as the back door swung closed behind him and bolted shut. Kaleb looked down each side of the alley and then down to the floor. The mud was pushed into wedges as if feet had been dragged, the barrel beside the door had a smattering of blood on the rim. Slowly Kaleb lifted the lid and peered over into the container. Nothing. The Dwarf had vanished like a magician or had been vanished by one. Kaleb bit his bottom lip and emerged from the alley with confusion painted across his face.

He sat on a bench and wiped his brow, surveying the people as they walked by, his heart pumped hard, anxiety had struck, not a feeling he was used to. Angelspree had closed its wings around itself and turned its back on him, or so he felt. Kaleb's worry turned to anger, the city to him now was nothing more than a gilded whore, legs spread to allow the demon to impale her with its foul tendril of corruption. Alas, Kaleb's orders were penned on golden sheets that forced his hand lest he be tossed in the oubliette for denying his oath-bound duty. Iridia was the key to this, was she to be trusted? Perhaps she was a demon seed planted in the heart of his house, ready at any moment to sprout and take hold with vines that coil and snake.

Kaleb rose and stepped forward, shaking conspiracies from his mind like fog from a hilltop. The horizon was in sight again, but what was coming over it put a tease of fear in Kaleb's chest, was this to be a true test of his ability? Or was he to be folded and pocketed like a handkerchief, a footnote to an evil that pays Zale’s legacy neither due nor respect?