The Buck's brunt was outside the circle of prosperity that the Paladin quarter covered. A Paladin wasn’t a new sight and Kaleb’s reputation amongst the common folk was relatively unknown. Paladins were seen as folk not to approach lest their situation was dire, often beggars and poverty-stricken people would attempt to tug at the strings of their golden hearts. Unfortunately, they didn’t quite understand the inner dwellings of a Paladin’s true mission, and it certainly wasn’t to be a champion of the feeble, more an arm to the Emperor's “divine” will.

The inn was a cosy adventurer hove as much as a commoners stop off. All manner of rogues, rangers and shadow dwellers littered the long wooden tables, sharing stories and trading a plethora of goods from innocent to illicit by both law and decency.

Morgan slithered in from Kaleb’s blind spot. “Sale complete, my lord!” he held up a jangling purse.

Kaleb was uncharacteristically startled and jumped as he snatched at the purse. “Boy, don’t sneak up on me like that!” he was on edge by his own admission, so unusual was this reaction that it forced Morgan to scrutinise where he normally wouldn’t dare.

“Are you okay, My lord? You seem awfully skittish?” He spoke in a hushed tone.

“I’m fine, how much?”

“One thousand exactly.” Morgan raised a finger as he beamed with pride.

“Disappointing–not a penny over my asking price.” He sighed.

“Well, once they knew that was the limit they wouldn’t budge.”

“How did they know it was the limit?” Kaleb spoke through gritted teeth, it was clear he knew why but he was damned if he wouldn’t force Morgan to admit.

“They looked at my paper.”

“Why did you show it to them?”

“They asked, they were quite persuasive and they bought me a bag of nuts.”

Kaleb shook his head as he slapped the purse in his palm. “Useless.”

“I ‘spose this means I won’t be getting a new hat?” Morgan took his tattered red cap off and inspected it wistfully.

“No, helper boy, no new hat, never a new hat, you will be buried in that hat, you will be soul bound to that hat when you die and I shall donate it to an Orcish orphanage.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“In fact, I think another promotion is due.”

Morgan gulped.

“Chief…” Kaleb pondered a moment. “I haven’t thought it yet, but you’ll be in charge of something really crap.”

“Yes of course.” Morgan had retrieved his free nuts and nervously crunched them, to which Kaleb plucked them from his hand and tipped the back into his mouth.

“You must be Kaleb.”

Kaleb looked around to find the source of the voice.

“Down ‘ere.”

He looked down to see a Dwarf, with a tuft of angry ginger hair atop his head and a short beard that dipped under his chin ear to ear, his large brown eyes met Kalebs. He crunched the mouthful of nuts and swallowed, handing the bag to Morgan and dusting his hands. “What of it half stack?”

“Ah, it seems your reputation for politeness proceeds you, sir.”

Kaleb raised his eyebrows.

“Please, would ya join me a moment at my table? I ‘ave a proposal.”

“I think not.” Kaleb scoffed and turned to leave, slowed by a tug at his wrist, pulling his arm back. He spun on the spot, wrenching his hand from those Dwarven sausage fingers. “Sir, mind your hands!” He was particularly haughty with that one, perhaps it will remind the Dwarf of his position in this encounter.

“I finks you might be interested, it involves your liccle skirmish to the Elves.”

Kaleb’s patience for know-it-alls had been pushed to the limits already and in a flurry of fury he lifted the Dwarf and dangled him in front of his head. “You know things a wretch of your ilk should not, I suggest you explain yourself lest I toss you over the Eastern mountain ranges, choose your words wisely.”

The Dwarf's feet kicked the air as he dangled, the entire inn had turned to face the action, a good fight was always worth the watch even if this one looked to be a rather one-sided affair. “Mr, sir, lord Kaleb.”

Kaleb shook him till he answered.

“Me cousin, he works in the questing house, he told me, it’s ‘ow I know!”

“So you thought you’d target me for some sort of fleecing racket hmm? Thought you’d use the information to hatch a little scheme to prise coin from my purse? make me look a fool? Do you think me a fool?” He shook the poor Dwarf more vigorously, causing his eyes to trade sockets it became that intense.

Morgan grabbed Kaleb’s arm and tugged it. “My Lord, you’ll rattle his brains out!”

Kaleb stopped and watched the dwarf as he blinked the dizziness away. “Speak then half-a-man.”

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“I want to come with you, I want to offer me services, I can tend the camp, cook, I can even ‘elp you train your neophyte, Ridia is it? I’ll make him top-notch.”

Kaleb grunted in annoyance at the knowledge this scoundrel had obtained through his chin-wagging cousin, no secrets amongst Dwarves. “She doesn’t need help from a Dwarf and we haven’t the coin for your service.” He lowered the Dwarf to his feet, much to the disappointment of the patrons who were expecting to enjoy a bloody spectacle, a rumble of gripes and grumbles bubbled before it popped back into the normal chitter chatter. The music played once more.

“I’ll do it for free.”

“Now I know you’re up to no good, Dwarves wouldn’t give away the crumbs on their beards.”

“Well, not exactly free, you’d be doing me a service.”

A free cook and campkeeper was tempting, Kaleb probed further. “Why?”

“Me business is me own, but I assure you that it is nothing untoward, I need to visit the Elf kind.”

“You might be some assassin, how would it look if I brought a blade to the heart of the Elves?” Kaleb felt confident in his riposte, surely the Dwarf had no answer.

“Please, let’s talk out of the way.” The Dwarf led them to a small booth and clambered on the bench, he ordered three steins of crimson ale and they sat by a crackling fire.

Morgan sipped his ale, cream on his top lip. “Thank you Mr. Dwarf!”

“Cheers, names Flencer.”

“Silly name.” Kaleb swallowed a mighty gulp of the ale and plonked the hefty glass down with a thud. “Make your case.” he was more interested in garnering information from the Dwarf than hiring him at this point.

“I have something that belongs to an Elf, I wish to return it, they may not be happy when I do and I am ready to receive their justice. The road isn’t safe for me and I need your protection, in turn, I will be at your beck and call.” The Dwarf let out a sigh, happy to have finally explained himself and made his case. He sipped his two-pinter once, twice a third time as he waited in suspense. Kaleb was stiff with introspection and the Dwarf knew to let him cook.

“Elf justice.” Kaleb took another gulp of his pint at this idea. “Never seen it in action.”

“It ain’t good.”

“I know. If you are not to be trusted I assure you the justice I provide is far less tolerable.”

“I believe it.” The Dwarf nodded solemnly.

Kaleb drummed his fingers on the table and then finished his beer. “Very well, take Morgan here, fetch supplies, food, bed rolls, horse feed.”

“Thank you, thank you, you won’t regret this!” Flencer put his hands together in prayer as if Kaleb was divinity.

“Boy, go with Flencer, get the supplies, I will fetch Iridia.” he narrowed his eyes at Flencer. “No funny business Dwarf.” He wagged his finger.

“It’d be pretty silly of me to try and take such liberties with a Paladin, and it’s not like you have any coin to thief eh?”

Kaleb banged his fist on the table. “Get out! Get the stuff!”

Morgan stood quickly and the Dwarf shot up and followed. “Can I finish my pint?” Morgan asked weakly.

“Bring it with you.”

Morgan nodded and left the inn with the two-pint mug full of beer and the half-pint man to prepare for the coming journey. Kaleb sat in silence at the inn table and drummed his fingers again, thinking about what must be unfolding right under his nose. He had no friends in this city, no one he could rely upon to take vigil over the sleeping Angelspree as it was primed.

***

“How’s that then?” Torina presented Iridia in her new armour. It was a good fit over her new hauberk. Kaleb was pleasantly surprised and impressed at how legitimate she looked, with her new spear especially. “She has a new gambeson as well, better fitting.”

“Perfect. Seven hundred well spent.” Kaleb smiled at Irida who had seemed to have cheered up.

“Ehm, eight hundred and fifty.”

“You said seven.”

“Yes, but that didn’t include the spear.”

“You’re a crook Torina, a common thief.” Kaleb snarled and handed the coin over, with the money he had provided Morgan for the supplies he was down to his last one hundred coins which wouldn’t go too far he imagined.

They left the House of the Steelmen poor but now well-equipped at least. “So what is your story, girl?”

“My name is Paladin Iridia.” She snapped back, perhaps inspired by a sense of rebellion after spending some time with the strong-headed Torina.

Kaleb yielded for a reason she was not sure of. “Very well, Paladin Iridia, I suppose you look the part.” He sniffed and looked at her. “What’s your story?”

“I was born into my father's house, he died, we recruited a new head, Paladin, you killed him, and now I’m here.”

Kaleb strode forward and turned to face Iridia and block her path. “You aren’t a demon, are you? You are good in heart yes?”

Iridia blinked in bewilderment. “I can see why you are not particularly liked.”

“Who needs to be liked? They respect me. Like the minstrel over there, he likes me.” Kaleb guided them closer to listen to the song he had been playing.

From the North does the Paladin Kaleb Hail.

The head of the house known as Zale

Set to leave on the great open trail.

Oh, how we hope he does fail.

Kaleb pushed in front of the crowd with wild eyes. The minstrel cleared his throat and continued his song.

Is what the evil enemies will say

As he smashes the demon's heads…all day.

Oh the great champion of Zale

Please oh please don’t fail…you’re brilliant.

Kaleb looked back at Iridia and smiled, pointing with his thumb. She rolled her eyes and turned to continue down the road. He caught up with her and placed a hand on her shoulder to slow her down. “Woah now there, horsey.”

She shrugged off his hand and turned, walking backwards to address him. “I’m not your horsey, I’m not your anything, let’s just do this quest and then you can palm me off to wherever.”

Kaleb’s eyebrows were pushed to his forehead in shock, a smile crept on his face and he laughed deeply. “Oh, not a horsey, I understand.” They walked back in silence, Iridia’s head was fixed on the cobble streets while Kaleb’s head was held aloft and proud as usual, meeting the gazes of those who would look.

They met up at the house, Flencer had fortunately not done away with Morgan and made off with the gold, which was a relief. Replacing helper boys requires too many forms these days. “Very good, the wagon is loaded yes?” Kaleb boomed as Flencer and Morgan stopped to acknowledge their return, Morgan raised his glass, still half a pint sloshing in there.

“Yes, yes, all good.” Flencer gave him a cheeky salute.

“Good, tomorrow morning we leave for the Elves.” That night was spent in the little house of Zale, the hammer would tell tales of his past victories as a living Paladin. Flencer would regale Iridia with tales of his past. A story about him being bucked onto the back of a maddened hog and flung into the mud pits of Pungville had her chuckling away. Kaleb hadn’t seen Iridia smile or laugh, it wasn’t all that bad. He had a moment of reflection and thought perhaps he had been harsh, however, he dispelled this train of thought, he knew Iridia needed to be tough and it was his job to ensure she expects only the worst.

They slept in the cramped quarters, apart from the Dwarf and Kaleb. Kaleb was kept awake by his concerns over the coming unknown. Flencer tossed and turned on the floor, his face was strained and wracked with grief. Too much cheese perhaps Kaleb thought. He blew out the candle and decided to force his fears down and get some well-needed rest, tomorrow was the last day of simplicity.