Prologue

Selig’s Journal – 30th day of Ianuariis, In Anno Domini 1242

            The life I’ve chosen to lead calls for a certain sternness of the soul.  Discipline and determination overcome an ever-present fear, quashing an emotion that has no place in the heart of a warrior.  Myself, and others like me, are considered a light (albeit dim) in an otherwise omnipresent Darkness.  We sojourn for a cause we know to be greater than ourselves.  We live a life of servitude and acceptance of the One true God and know our purpose is one with His.  Most of us were born in distant lands, yet we all call the land of Terra Lux our home.  Some were orphaned; others abandoned; and some were sent to fulfill vows made by barren women who, against all knowledge and known science, miraculously conceived.  We serve one sole purpose and that is to offer our lives to the Holy Father and wage war on the Darkness that has almost impeded the Light in this world.  Forged in the Ignis Sancti and bread in the Temple Di Deus, we burst through the Darkness and illuminate all of the Holy One’s creation.  With a vibrant sound of a trumpet, we declare that evil is not the bridegroom of this world.  Love and Mercy shall reign.    Our swords are our chosen instruments in the orchestra of God’s army and the heavenly crescendo will resound with the defeat of the Evil One.  God be with us.

 Chapter 1

            Selig Ulfson stood poised, weapon ready.  His breath was even and unlabored.  Listening, his ears perked as silent footsteps pattered to his left flank.   Not willing to take the bait he readied his broadsword to parry on his right flank.  Just as he expected, he heard the swoosh of metal piercing through crisp air and he waited until his attacker’s blade was about to strike him in the right side of his abdomen.  In a flash, he brought his blade about in perfect form and it caught the blade of his attacker’s.  Tightening the muscles in his arms, toned after years of training under Master Dunderan, he maneuvered his wrists in a manner that caused his and his enemy’s blades to spiral.  Unfortunately for the would-be attacker, Selig’s blade was not only more durable, but longer.   The attacker attempted to side step the oncoming blade; however, his momentum was bringing him too far forward.  He managed to step far enough to the left to avoid being skewered by Selig’s weapon; however, Selig’s blade landed a nasty blow to his attacker’s right shoulder.  The searing pain bursting forth from his shoulder caused the attacker to briefly hesitate.  Never faltering, Selig took advantage of his attacker’s delay.   Quickly pivoting left into a spinning motion, Selig swung his sword with a backhanded stroke towards the man’s neck.    The attacker’s misfortune continued as he was too slow for the speed and agility of Selig.  Selig’s blade slid through the man’s neck, like a sharp knife cleanly slicing off a piece of cheese, and Selig stood motionless in a crouching position: waiting.  The attacker’s head slowly slithered off of his neck while his lifeless body landed with a resounding thud; first to its knees, then fully forward onto its chest.   With similar agility and speed, Selig withdrew a cloth from under his chainmail tunic and methodically wiped off his blade.  He softly chanted prayers in ritualistic fashion as he consecrated his sword, removing the still warm blood of his vanquished enemy.

            “You killed that man,” came a soft voice.  Selig’s ear twitched as he heard the voice.  The voice sounded as if it came from a young girl, possibly a young boy that hadn’t quite hit puberty.  

            “That was no man,” Selig replied.  He continued cleansing his sword which now had a light red hue highlighting the edges of the blade.  Though he seemed not to pay attention to the whereabouts of the voice, his eyes darted back and forth scanning his moonlight surroundings and his ears listened for any scuffling of feet.  Directly in front of Selig lay a wall of thick green: small foliage such as bushes and larger trees with leaves that danced slowly in the slight breeze.  Some handful of steps behind him was a small enclosed barn, seemingly abandoned based on the absence of animal sounds and the sight of much needed repairs on the rotting walls.  The night was crisp, but not chilly.  It was cold enough for Selig to feel comfortable in his armor and not sweat profusely from his recent exertion.  

            “Then what was it?” came the voice again.  The tone of the voice sounded more intrigued than scared.   This time Selig could make out where the voice was coming from.  Sheathing his sword, he turned towards the direction of the voice.

            “Come out here,” Selig commanded.  His voice was stern but not forceful.  Thankfully, the owner of the voice acquiesced and slowly slid out from the bush from which it was hiding.    Standing before Selig was a girl he judged to be around ten years old and standing a little over four feet tall.  She was skinny but fed well enough that her bones weren’t protruding due to malnourishment.  Her fine, light brown hair hung down just below her shoulders looked well kempt.  Her clothes, on the other hand, painted a different picture.   She wore cloth rags that had been fashioned, poorly, into a makeshift tunic.  A myriad of colors adorned the tunic, a result of multiple rags being sewn together.  It almost looked like someone had sewn together puzzle pieces that weren’t meant to fit into each other.  The tunic had clearly seen more than its fair share of seasons as most of the colors were fading.  Selig opined that after a few more seasons, the tunic would eventually fade into a solitary color.  Her shoes were non-existent, as she brandished small sandals that barely covered the length of her foot.  The straps on them were frayed and were dangerously close to coming completely undone, rendering the sandals useless. 

            “What was it?” she asked again. 

            “A creature of the dark,” Selig replied.   He didn’t lie, but he also didn’t directly answer her question.   His eyes squinted as he peered at the girl, attempting to discern her reaction to his answer.

            “What kind of creature?”  Selig chuffed in annoyance; annoyance not just with the little girl, but because he had been careless enough to let a civilian sneak up on him.

            “Oh,” she responded.  The girl looked down and placed her arms in front of her, twiddling her forefingers and scraping her right foot around in the grass.  “Are you some kind of soldier?” she asked.

            “In a sense,” Selig answered.  “I’m a soldier of God.”  The girl’s face stared up inquisitively at Selig but she kept quiet.  Usually finding silence a welcome friend, Selig felt compelled to severe that relationship and ask the girl, “Where are your parents?”

            “They were killed by…soldiers,” she answered, then added, “not from God.”   Selig was standing a few feet away from the decapitated body and the girl was only a few feet in front of him.  He looked on in wonder as she didn’t seem to care a headless corpse, lying in its own pool of blood, was only a couple strides away. 

            “Do you have any one to look after you?” inquired Selig.  “Surely someone must give you a place to sleep, a place to call home.”

            “No home,” she said matter-of-factly.  The girl had stopped fidgeting and was now staring at what she must have considered to be a giant standing before her.  Selig was over six feet tall and wore a chainmail tunic, coif and leggings.  A sash lay diagonally across his chest; the white symbol placed symmetrically within the center a stark contrast to the dark brown underlay.  Selig’s recently sheathed sword was also not the only weapon he had strapped to his person.   The little girl could count at least three more short daggers and there were a few other weapons that were not visible to any onlooker.  The oval-shape of Selig’s face poked out from the chainmail coif, revealing a slightly tanned, clean shaven but rough skinned face.   Selig peered back into the girl’s hazel eyes and to his surprise, she remained perfectly still.  Usually his stare could cause a shudder down even the most stoic of knights.   “What should we do with him?” the girl asked, pointing her bedraggled shoe towards the corpse. 

            “We won’t be doing anything.  Here, take this.”  Selig reached into the pouch comfortably positioned in the small of his back and revealed a wrapped piece of dried beef.  He took a few strides over to the girl and presented her with the gift who didn’t immediately take it.  Much like a curious puppy, she took a few hesitant sniffs with her soil stained snout to make sure the present was, in fact, edible.  Finding the aroma pleasing, a wide smile washed across her mouth and she fervently grabbed the beef from Selig’s hand.  The speed at which she retrieved the beef provided a bit of a surprise for the towering man.

            Selig’s distraction had worked.  The girl partially skipped back to her hiding bush and roughly plopped down on the ground, staring intently at the beef as she ripped away small pieces with her teeth, savoring each chew as if the meal were the most delicate one she’d ever partaken in.  Selig used this time to dispose of the corpse.  Reaching back into his pouch, he produced a small globe vial that looked suspiciously similar to a perfume bottle.  Better positioning himself, he lowered himself on his right knee and gently removed the small cork.  Lines grew across Selig’s forehead as he took great care in producing a few droplets that drooped onto the corpse and then one droplet on the severed head, doing this all while whispering soft prayers.  At the conclusion of his prayers, the body began to illuminate with a soft blue aura while a slight hissing sound emanated from the corpse as it slowly disintegrated into white ash.

            “Is he farting?  I heard sometimes that happens when people die.”  The girl was standing a few inches behind Selig now.  The proximity of the girl and the awkwardness of the question caught Selig unaware causing him to lunge forward into the white ash.

            Selig caught himself with his left arm, the weight of which caused the white ash to plume upward, covering his forearm and moldering away into the crisp air. A broad white handprint lay imbeded in the ground, an ingrained irony to the purity of the ash and the evilness the ash once resembled. He shivered with anger but maintained his position, attempting to regain his poise. 

            “Does it burn?” the girl asked, pointing to his ash covered forearm.

            “No.”  The single word cut through the air cleaner than his sword; however, was blocked by the unhindered curiosity of the girl.  “The ash is pure.”  Selig didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to speak to the girl.  Her silent stare struck him harder than the backhand of Master Dunderan.  “Where are you from?”  He attempted to change the subject towards her origins.  Maybe if he got her thinking about where she was from, she’d feel the need to return from where she came.

            “I don’t know,” she answered.  Confounded, Selig reasoned that the closest city to their present location was Ardea.  It was a coastal city only a few miles southwest and was named after the plethora of herons frequently spotted nearby.

            “What’s your name, girl?”  Selig asked.

            “I don’t know.”

            “I don’t know, that’s an uncommon name.  Well, I don’t know, do you truly not know, or are you playing tricks on a stranger?”

            “I don’t know and I don’t really want to talk about it,” she said as she began to pace back and forth.  Selig recognized the nervousness in her and decided not to press the issue.

            “My name is Selig,” he offered.

            “Sea-liig?” she questioned, having a hard time pronouncing his name.

            “Close enough,” he answered, a small twitch creeping along the corner of his mouth.  For as long as he could remember, people had a hard time pronouncing his name.  Selig was not a common moniker on the continent of Accipiter, even in the northern lands abutting the holy city of Terra Lux.  “Well, since you don’t remember your name, and I can’t go about calling you ‘I don’t know’ what should we call you then?”

            “I don’t know,” she answered.

            “Hmm, how about Sky?” He asked her.  It was the shorter version of

            “I like that.  Does it mean anything?  I mean, other than the obvious,” she asked, curious as to Selig’s etiology of the name.

            “It’s short for Skygge, which means shadow in my language.”  Sky smiled in appreciation and fervently nodded her acceptance to the new label.

            “So what should we do?” she asked. 

            “We should find your home.”

            “I told you, I have no home.”  Selig intently peered at the girl.  He could see no lies in her but even so, he quickly turned from the girl and strode towards the cobblestone path adjacent to the weathered barn.  “Hey, wait up!”  The girl skipped up alongside Selig, who had slowed his stride, allowing her to catch up.  Selig stole a quick glance in her direction and a slight pang of uneasiness radiated throughout his abdomen.  Lord, who is she, and why did you put her on my path?

*******************************

            The road to Ardea was uneventful, largely due to it being the middle of the night.  Bandits had been known to stick closer to the large highways of Accipiter, rather than the small pathways such as the one they currently traveled upon.  Of course, there were exceptions to every rule and Selig had come across the occasional highwayman on his travels.  The few that were dumb enough to attempt to rob him found themselves wounded enough to think twice about the career path they had chosen, and that was if they had caught Selig on a day he was feeling particularly generous.  Most highwaymen he encountered saw the symbol on his sash and knew to take their chances with other prey. 

            “What’s that,” Sky inquired, pointing to the symbol on his chest, as if reading his thoughts.  They had been walking close to an hour yet her breathing was not labored.  Selig assumed she had led a life on the streets, which led children her age to be physically fit, so long as they had enough sustenance to nourish their growing bodies.

            “This?” Selig asked, peeking down at the center of the sash and taking it in with one hand.  The symbol was an encircled oak tree, fully green and a stark contrast to the changing color of leaves that were a result of Ardea’s fall season.  A blue cross underlay the oaktree, spanning out to touch the sides of the circle.  “This is a symbol of my order.”

            “Your…order?” 

            “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”  Selig took a deep breath to begin an answer to her question; however, was cut off by an alien voice.        

            “You there, what’s your business?”  A man called out from a large gatehouse.  Selig’s simple musings and her short round of questioning had distracted him enough not to notice their passage through the intersection of the cobblestone path and a larger, smoother stone highway upon which they presently traveled.  Selig and Sky had reached Ardea.   The intersection was only a few hundred feet from the city, and the smooth highway led straight into the capital city of the southern sector of Accipiter.  The two were now approximately thirty paces from the gatehouse and Selig inwardly chastised himself again for allowing his senses to be dulled enough to invite distraction.  Selig couldn’t be too hard on himself, though, as there were no street lanterns leading up to the city like much of the other larger cities in Accipiter had started implementing within their city planning.  To keep the defensive tactic of darkness as one of their closest allies, Ardean guards were ordered to keep torches unlit until night travelers were within a certain proximity of the gatehouse.  Additionally, the stones used within the building of the walls and the gatehouse were engineered as such to blend into the surrounding environment.  One last tactical advantage for the defense of the city was that there was no forest or shrubbery anywhere near the pathways leading up to the city, and all pathways were intricately weaved to lead to the intersection Selig and Sky recently passed.  The only other entrance was an identical gatehouse positioned near the docks; however, only sea merchants were allowed to venture through that entrance.  As most travelers journeyed by foot or caravan they would be forced to enter through the same gate Selig and Sky now gazed upon, and they would be easily visible on any moonlit night such as this one.

            Selig squinted his eyes in an attempt to force them to see beyond to the optical illusion the thick gatehouse stones displayed.   The gatehouse itself stood astride an entrance large enough to fit four wagons side-by-side.  The gigantic portcullis was presently down; however, was generally open during market hours to allow easier access into the walled city.  Atop the gatehouse a few torches became ablaze, casting an eerie glow over the skillfully engineered path.  Two guards, fully adorned in chainmail, stood there in challenge of the large man and his uncommon companion.  Just below the two men, Selig knew there to be a lower level which hid behind the stone wall, except for multiple arrow slits, decisively placed to provide guards stationed within the gatehouse a large field of fire.  The engineer that designed the gatehouse truly was a genius.  The strategic advantages of the high wall and the impenetrable stone, meant that only a small garrison of men could withstand at least a battalion’s worth of adversaries.  In the years that Selig had sojourned upon Accipiter, he knew of at least two attempts to raid Ardea.  The raids were instigated by some ambitious clan leaders attempting to bring glory and honor to their clans’ names on the southern continent of Draco.  Both attempts failed miserably.

            “Are you going to make me ask again,” came the same voice from atop the gatehouse.

            “My business is only for God to know,” Selig curtly replied. 

            “You have a lot of nerve…” began the second guard but the first guard stopped him short with a gentle grasp of his shoulder.  The torch light flickered softly in the mellow night breeze, revealing what Selig thought to be recognition on the first guard’s face.  Almost as if through osmosis, the look of recognition transferred from the first guard’s face to the second’s. 

            “Excuse us, Paladin, we’ll get the gate open presently.  Please accept our apologies, we could not immediately see the sash” called the first guard from atop the gatehouse. 

            “No apologies necessary,” responded Selig.  He glanced over at Sky and gleaned what he thought was amusement on her face, but it was hard to tell.  His vision had lost all of his acclimated night sight due to staring at the lit torches. 

            “Your order must be important,” she whispered.

            “Not the order, but whom we serve,” advised Selig.  The second guard had disappeared after the first guard made a few rapid gesticulations with his hands.  A few moments later a large crunch reverberated from the gatehouse and echoed along the street towards Selig and Sky.  Sky seemed to sway to the rhythmic creaking of the chains as they worked their way around the pulley system attached to the gate.  Her swaying ceased along with the creaking of the chains once the gate had fully opened and Selig noticed her lips twinge downwards in a slight frown.  Odd girl, he thought to himself.

            Selig stepped forward towards the mammoth opening, followed closely by Sky.  Selig had visited Ardea a few times in the past and knew there to be a Temple Di Deus towards the center of the city.  Ardea’s architects had designed the city to be multiple inlaid rings, with each ring representing specific businesses or residential areas.  The principle idea was that with the same types of business located within the same ring, there would be equal market opportunity for business owners.  This didn’t quite happen, though, as certain sections of the rings were more well-maintained than other sections, resulting in the city’s more affluent citizens patronizing these nicer areas.  The design of the city, though, did culminate with Ardea’s commonly used name of the Ringed City. 

            “Are we going to an Inn?” Sky chimed in. 

            “We’re not.  We’re going to one of my order houses.  We’ll be able to get some rest there and figure out what to do with you.”

            “And some more beef?”

            “And some more beef.”  They continued walking towards the center ring within Ardea.  The rings were cut into two perfect semi-circles with a wide path that led towards the middle of the city, which housed the governor’s palace.  The palace was the epicenter of all commerce and political relations, or some might say misgivings, so it made sense for it to be the focal point of Ardea.   Each ring also had side paths cut perpendicular to the main paths that led to the two main entrances of the city.  The product of this design was four distinct sections of the city.  To allow easier access between rings, staircases were strategically placed along each ring so citizens and guards alike could travel to the flat rooftops, gaining access to the multiple catwalks connecting the rings.  This granted passage from the palace to the outer ring in only a few minutes, assuming the pedestrian was going at a reasonable pace. 

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

            Selig and Sky’s destination was the first ring wherein sat the residence for some of Ardea’s more prominent citizens and officials.  Also within the first ring resided temples for the town’s major religions.  While there were many more religions than the four prestigious temples sitting within the inner circle, only the prominently accepted religions were able to gain purchase within the city.  Selig snuck a glance at Sky and saw she had a look somewhere between amusement and apathy.  She wore a soft smile, one that could have been painted on a porcelain doll.  The visage left Selig with a sense of uneasiness but he shook away the antipathy and quickly regained his composure.

            They continued their trek down the main path until they eventually reached the inner ring.  “We’ll need to be quiet,” said Selig, “the order-priest of Ardea likes to maintain a serene environment.”  Sky nodded her head in acquiescence and Selig pushed open the double doors leading into the temple.

            “Quiet please,” came a voice from the corner of the entry room.  A large desk was installed alongside one of the walls and the owner of the voice sat with his back towards Selig and Sky.

            “My apologies.”  Selig’s answer perked the man’s ears and caused him to tilt his head to identify the noisy intruders.

            “Oh no, my apologies!  Selig, good to see you!”  The man scurried out from behind the desk to take Selig’s hand in a furious welcome.  The man was a few inches shorter than Selig, and was clad in a modest off-white robe.  He had a handsome face, but most of it was covered up by a bushy beard, which stood in stark contrast to his clean shaven head.

            “Sky, may I introduce you to Alto.”  Alto took a deep bow completing the introduction.   

            “My mother named me Alto but I’m a tenor.  Who knew?” joked Alto.  It fell upon deaf ears as Sky looked at him with a face of bemusement.

            “Tough crowd,” said Alto.

            “It’s nice to meet you, grand order-priest,” said Sky, mimicking Alto’s earlier bow.

            “Alto actually isn’t the order-priest,” said Selig, smiling at the girl’s gesture and confusion.  “He is one of our ministers and the squire to the order-priest.”   They heard a quiet rustling sound in one of the nearby rooms, drawing all of their attention.

            “Though, I expect you might be meeting him presently,” said Alto.  The door standing to the left of Alto’s desk smoothly opened without a creak.

            “Alto, what have I told you about speaking volume in the entrance chamber?”  questioned the order-priest.  He presented himself from the doorway wearing the same modest robe as Alto; however, it took more of the modest fabric to cover his massive frame.  From what Sky could remember of the word “priest” this man looked nothing of the sort.  He was almost as tall as Selig, had close cropped hair, and muscles that made themselves known even through the billowy fabric of his robe.  Scars covered his chiseled face, producing a stoic visage.  The order-priest was probably once a handsome man; however, each scar that he obtained had slowly chipped away his youthful grace.

            “Sir,” said Selig, nodding slightly as the order-priest gained within a few feet of small cluster.

            “Selig,” said the order-priest, his visage warming up in recognition at the sight of what Sky took to be an old friend.  “What brings you here, my boy?”  Sky’s face scrunched up a bit at the order-priests name for Selig.  He certainly was no boy, and the order-priest looked no more than ten years Selig’s senior.

            “This one,” Selig noted, nodding his head towards Sky and adding, “and some other business that is best only for your ears.”  The order-priest nodded swiftly. 

            “Well, I’m sure you must be hungry,” the order-priest indicated, staring keenly at the girl.  His expression betrayed no emotion other than kindness, even as the image of her dilapidated clothing painted a picture of a poor, homeless girl.  “Alto, take her to get some food.”

            “As you wish.”  Alto acquiesced after providing a reverent bow to the massive man, who undoubtedly gained such respect through a lifetime of accomplishments achieved through honor and duty.  Alto knelt slightly before Sky and opened up an arm, inviting her to proceed through one of the door’s directly perpendicular to his desk. 

            As soon as they disappeared from the room, Selig began, in a quiet tone, as if already knowing the order-priest’s first question: “I’m not sure who she is.”

            The order-priest nodded, and gently stroked his clean shaven chin in quiet contemplation.  “How did you come to meet her?” He asked.

            “I was on a mission, which had led me a few miles northeast of Ardea.  For the last several weeks I’d been tracking a demonicus humanus that had wreaked some havoc on the outskirts of Triponti.”

            “Demonicus humanus?  I liked it better when it was back in my day, and demons showed themselves as elements, not humans,” opined the order-priest.  He sighed softly and made a quick gesture for Selig to continue.

            “What better way for a demon to hide, than in plain sight?” reasoned Selig.

            “And you tracked him all the way to outside of Ardea?” asked the order-priest.

            “Yes.  I was roughly a few hours behind him when I reached a small farming village that lay alongside the Colapis river.  I thought he was going to attempt to disrupt the lives of those poor farmers and he certainly had ample opportunity to do so.”

            “Why didn’t he?”

            “I’m not quite sure.  I questioned the local innkeeper and he advised that he delivered a small parchment to the demonicus.  After reading the parchment, he immediately took his leave and headed southwest.”

            “That’s odd,” said the order-priest.

            “Yes, very odd,” agreed Selig.  Selig grasped the elbow of the order-priest and drew in closer, “Nicolai, it isn’t like a demon to travel so far away from its ascension point; I don’t know what to make of it.”  Nicolai patted the younger man on the shoulder and slowly backed away from him.  He turned slightly away from Selig and continued massaging his chin in silent reverie. 

            “Yes,” was all Nicolai could offer in response to Selig’s earnest plight.

            “In regard to the girl, I found her by an abandoned barn, where I ultimately tracked the demon down.”

            “What was he doing when you found him there?” asked Nicolai.

            “It was nearing dusk when I found him.  I spied on him for a little bit to see if I could learn any additional information as to why he traveled this far, but couldn’t decipher anything from his actions.  He had gone into the barn and I could hear sounds as if he was moving floorboards.  Maybe in an attempt to see if there was anything hidden underneath.”

            “Or anyone,” chimed in Nicolai.

            “Or anyone?”  repeated Selig in an inquisitive fashion.  The order-priest gave Selig a few moments for him to appreciate the meaning to the revelation.  “Oh…her?” Selig wondered.

            “Where was she when you found her?”

            “I actually didn’t find her.  She snuck up on me after I had defeated the demonicus.  She watched me during the cleansing and banishment ritual.  She didn’t provide me with her name, only saying she couldn’t remember.  For the most part, I believe her.  I can’t sense any deception in her,” recounted Selig.  Selig hesitated a few moments prior to adding, “I couldn’t sense anything at all.”

            “What do you mean?  You didn’t sense anything?”

            “Nothing really.  I could only sense my own uneasiness, but I just attributed that to not normally being around children.”  Breaking his own ardently administered rule on noise disturbance, Nicolai let out a large snigger as he imagined the younger Paladin nervously attempting to make small talk with his small travel companion.

            “I’m sorry, my good man, I was just envisioning you entertaining the little one with instructions on how to properly vanquish an ice demon.”  Selig squinted hard in irritation at Nicolai for his gibing, but could only smile as he realized the absurdity of the situation. 

            “In all seriousness, Nicolai, she didn’t seem affected by the killing, or the ritual.  I was more distraught than she was, and only because she snuck up on me, which wasn’t the only time she did it.”

            “Oh?” asked an intrigued Nicolai.  It wasn’t every day that someone, let alone a little child, snuck up on one of the finest Paladins to currently walk the lands of Accipiter.  In fact, probably one of the finest Paladins ever to wear the Cross and Tree.  Peering with father-like eyes, Nicolai scrutinized Selig’s expression and understood by his furrowed brows that he had some unvoiced concerns.  “Is there anything else, Selig?”

            Selig pondered the question.  A couple items, he mused.  The girl’s comment on the fate of her parents was gnawing at him as well as the complete lack of energy emanating from Sky.  Every living being had some sort of energy that emitted based on a myriad of criteria, but with humans it mostly was dependent upon one’s emotional state.  Through meticulous training, and heightened discernment provided by God’s Spirit, Paladins learned the ability to sense others’ energy to better track their enemies.  If a human was angry, Selig would be able to sense that energy and feel the same emotion as the person he was sensing.  Only a rare few humans had an aura that was fully pure, fully serene.  These humans were wholly righteous and had unequivocal faith in God, but even they had palpable energy.  He had yet to meet a human whose energy was pure hate; only demons disembogued pure hate.   He had also yet to meet someone, Sky being the exception, that had no energy.  Only the Militem had powers enough to mask some of their energy, but not all.

            Selig eventually replied to Nicolai by advising, “she said that her parents were killed by soldiers.  It’s strange; by all accounts she can’t remember her name and how she came to be at the barn, but she could remember her parents being murdered.”

            “Sometimes the best way to find an answer, is to simply ask the question.”

            “Yes, of course, order-priest.  At the time, I didn’t think the circumstances benefited asking about the poor girl’s dead parents.  After all, she had just witnessed the decapitation of a demonicus and I’m sure she thought I had just taken the head off of a regular man.” 

            “Yet she followed you.”

            “Yes, she did, but that doesn’t take away any uneasiness.  That only increases it.  What person in their right mind would follow a man who just beheaded another?  Especially after only being told that the deceased man was a ‘creature of the dark.’  When someone realizes what manner of business I engage in, they start to shift uncomfortably and think of ways to excuse themselves and who could blame them?  I certainly wouldn’t want to follow me.”  Selig’s shoulder’s had slumped slightly after his last statement.  His business was a lonely one, but one he did for the glory of God.

            “You discredit yourself,” Nicolai said, then added with a smile, “unless you’re talking about your smell, because then I wholeheartedly concur.”  Nicolai slapped the younger Paladin on the back and headed towards the direction Alto and Sky had previously undertaken.  “I think we should attempt to jog the little one’s memory.” 

            As Nicolai took his first step, Selig again grasped his superior’s arm, momentarily halting the muscled priest.  Selig knew the man stopped in anticipation of a question, and not by any power of Selig’s.  Selig was a strong and able Paladin, but he knew Nicolai was his superior, and not only in rank.  “Did you sense anything?” asked Selig.

            “Well, now that you mention it, I didn’t.”

            “And that didn’t worry you?”

            “It apparently didn’t at the time, which is strange.  But it certainly has clinched my attention now.  Don’t worry, my boy, we will investigate this further,” Nicolai declared.  Nicolai quickly declined his head towards Selig’s hand and, understanding the unspoken request, Selig released the order-priest.  Selig pursued after Nicolai as he headed in the direction toward Alto and Sky.  After his stomach let out a large grumble, Selig offered a silent prayer of gratitude that they were heading to the kitchen.

*****************************************

            “So, where you from, M’lady?” asked Alto as they casually made their way from the entryway through the first floor of the Temple.  The temple itself wasn’t grandiose by any means.  It was two levels and was meant to only house a handful of guests, or Paladins needing a rest while on one of their many quests.  Order-barracks were generally constructed outside of city limits as they would be allowed to create any variety of accommodations that traveling Paladins required to fulfil their mission at hand.  Most of the reagents required for their missions weren’t technically legal to own inside most of the cities of Accipiter so they needed to be stored regionally for easier resupplying.  The size of the barracks was more for storage necessities than for lodging Paladins; especially in these days as fewer and fewer Paladins graced the halls of the various order-barracks.  The temples located within city limits were a stopping point to gather intelligence from the local order-priest or offered a quick respite from the grueling nature of a Paladin’s work.  Ardea’s temple was further limited as it had to adhere to strict city codes requiring building owners to design their interiors to roughly the same floor plan as every other building located within their district.  

            “I’m not quite sure,” finally answered Sky, who had become enamored with the assortment of artwork hung about the corridor leading to the Dining Hall.   Her eyes gazed with intent wonder at the heroic imagery painted by masterful brushstrokes.  Alto offered a benevolent smile as they made their way past them and caught Sky’s gaze lingering on the paintings that depicted great battles between heroes clad in plate armor and humanoid beings that more or less resembled the different elements known to Accipiter.   At this point, Sky had become enchanted with the paintings and had ceased following Alto.  He patiently stood by as she explored each spectacle the art work provided. 

            “It’s okay, I wouldn’t tell me anything either,” said Alto.  His melodic tenor broke the girl’s enchantment with the paintings.   Alto gently ran his hand through his beard and offered his arm in the same manner as before, inviting the girl to continue forward toward their destination.    They had reached the Dining Hall which housed many more pieces of fine art work but Sky was polite enough not to loiter behind and continued trailing the bald squire.  “They’re from long ago,” he advised.

            “Huh?”

            “The paintings.  More specifically, the events from the paintings.  They’re from long ago.  In a time when more men like Selig were needed.”

            “What happened?” asked Sky.

            “In the paintings, or to the men like Selig?”

            “Both.”

            “As for the paintings, the good guys won, thanks to God.  Because the good guys won, less men like Selig are needed.”  His answer came off more curtly than intended, so he followed his response with a magnanimous smile, attempting to soften any blow.    Sky glanced up at Alto and had she taken any offense, she didn’t show it on her young features.  Alto inferred her curiosity triumphed over any accidental offenses he may have caused.

            “So, Selig is a good guy?  He fights bad men?”

            “Yes to the first question…and the answer to the second question is a little more complicated.  Sometimes he does have to fight bad men, but mostly he fights evil incarnate.”

            “What does in-car-nit mean?” asked Sky, sounding out the troubled word.

            “It basically means evil made flesh.”

            “Hmmm,” she said, attempting to contemplate the meaning of Alto’s phrasing.  “And Selig, is a Paladin?”

            “Yes, he has trained since he was a child to serve the one God in the manner of defending the innocent from evil.”

            “Evil…incarnate,” she added, producing a slight twitch from the corners of Alto’s mouth.

            “Indeed, young lady.  The days depicted in those paintings are long gone, and the amount of evil--evil incarnate,” Alto included with a quick smile,” has drastically reduced.  Alas, those are stories for another time, young lady.   We’ve come to the place where your stomach shall engage in battle with your inhospitable hunger.”

            “Huh?” Sky frowned, not understanding Alto’s joke.  Noticing her frown, Alto tilted his head towards his left, pointing to the kitchen area which they had reached.  Alto gestured for her to take a seat at the table nearest the kitchen.

            “Stay here, young lady.  I’ll be back before you know it.”  He walked into the kitchen area, which was mostly closed off save for the door.  A light flickered somewhere within which cast an eerie shadow that undulated as Alto made his way in the kitchen to prepare her some food.  After a brief moment, he made his way back to Sky with a plate full of dried meats and some green leafy looking substance that looked like Alto had gone to the nearest tree, mashed up some leaves, and prepared it as some sort of makeshift casserole.  “I apologize for the lack of variety.  The only items we have that are currently edible are dried foods and the Demon’s Bane.”  Sky’s nose scrunched up after hearing what she assumed to be the casserole type mass on the plate to which Alto added, “Demon’s Bane, called that for the vast amounts of nutrients found in it.  It offers key ingredients to give a Paladin in the field the energy he needs to do his duty.  Easy to make, and apparently never spoils,” he said with a mischievous grin.

            Sky gave a quick look at the Demon’s Bane, sizing it up, and pinched a small amount between her forefinger and thumb.  After rolling it into a tiny pellet she promptly tossed it into her mouth and winced as if anticipating the food’s taste to be equally as frightening as the name, but was quite surprised by the pleasantness that exploded in her mouth after the pellet dissolved, enveloping her taste buds.       

            “Good, huh?” asked Alto.  “The name can be deceiving.  I’m sure the dried meat won’t offer any surprises.”  They both sat there for a time; Alto still exuding his compassionate smile all the while Sky continued to gulp down her Demon’s Bane.  Alto continued his polite patience with the child and allowed her to delve into her meal without any interruption, taking a seat on the bench opposite to her.

            After the first pellet, Sky had the increased courage to shovel more into her mouth until there was nothing but the meat left on the plate.  The speed and ferocity to which she ate resulted in a large belch that brought a raucous laugh from the bald man.  “I’ll take that as an answer to my previous question,” Alto said in-between heaves of laughter.  “Now, do you think you might be able to answer some of my questions, young lady?” 

            “Mmmhmmm,” Sky mumbled through mouth full of dried beef and arduously added, “tish tuff tis batter than Slig’s.”

            Apparently deciphering the discombobulated message, Alto responded to Sky,” yes, I’m sure the texture is a by-product of the different mechanisms of storage.  When Paladin’s are out in the field, their dried meat might be a little rougher.”  Alto hesitated a moment as Sky ripped away a generous strand of meat then asked with fatherly tenderness, “do you know where you’re from, Sky?”

            “I don’t know,” she said after swallowing the meat which brought a crooked smile across Sky’s face, stemming a dimple on her left cheek resulting in lopsided asymmetry and revealing well maintained teeth that wouldn’t be common to a beggar.  Alto was a little disconcerted from the smile.  Though genuine, he could sense a concealed warning, possibly letting him know to tread carefully with his line of questioning.

            “Surely you must know a little of where you’re from.  Ardea, possibly?” he pressed, gesturing behind him at the walls on the opposite side of the Dining Hall in an attempt to expound his meaning.  Sky had stopped eating after the second attempt at his question and stared venom at Alto through her hazel eyes, which now seemed to have transmuted to a brownish red hue.  Alto leaned slightly back in response to the disquieting visage Sky shot in his direction.  He was thankful his own bearded face remained calm and smiling, as his trembling hands would have betrayed truer emotions.  His heart palpitated in increased tempo as she continued a glare that could have slain a Demonicus Militem.    

            “I don’t know,” growled Sky through clamped teethe.  The growl was inhuman, absent any childlike tone or inferiority.  While the girl remained, the shadow behind her began to undulate and enlarge with each palpable wave.  Sky slowly raised a large slab of dried beef and attacked it with carnivorous hunger, all the while keeping her now flame red eyes glued on Alto.  Alto was no Paladin, merely a man of God who assisted the order of the Paladins, but even squires were provided some training in dealing with the unexpected and unnatural.  Sky’s changing appearance certainly fit into either of those categories and his training felt negligible as he stared in the face of a young child whose countenance was quite literally changing before him.  By now, Alto had sat on his right hand to keep his uncontrollably shaking hand in check. 

            Oh boy, I’m going to regret this, mused Alto as he already began to formulate his subsequent question: “Sky, I know this must be hard…”

            “You know nothing!” shot back Sky.  Fire and brimstone may have been more welcome than the ferociousness behind her words, yet, Alto stayed his course.

            “Sky—“

            “My name is not Sky!”

            “Then what is it, dear?”  Sky’s continually changing visage ceased into what Alto made out to be confusion.  Her brows furrowed as sky stared into his empathetic eyes and Alto observed a tear lazily glide down her cheek.  He could tell the poor girl was thinking, trying for the life of her to remember something as simple as her own name.  Yet, she couldn’t do it.  It was almost as if she were trying to recount the entire first book of the Biblium Sacratus, but got tongue tied on the first word.

            “I….”

            “Yes…?” Alto prodded.

            “I…I don’t know.”

            “Come on, girl!  You know it!”  Alto regretted the forcefulness, but deemed it necessary to guide her towards remembrance.

            “I don’t know,” whispered sky.  Her voice was barely audible, causing Alto to lean forward.  “I don’t…know,” she repeated, her volume increasing.  “I don’t know!  I don’t know! I don’t know!” she screamed.  With each repetition the volume of her voice elevated, to the point that Alto had to stop sitting on his hand and cover his ears.  Sky kept repeating her ignorance and the volume to which she spoke had increased to the point where it was immeasurable.  What confused Alto the most, other than  a small child barking louder than a hellbeast, was how the volume heightened, but Sky’s body language did not resemble one who was shouting at the top of their lungs.  She sat, hunched over, with her head in her hands and she barely moved, except for the slight sob in-between bellows. 

            “Sky!” Alto tried to scream over the torrent of “I don’t knows.”  He felt a warm liquid secrete from his nose and braved the onslaught of the child’s booming tantrum and wiped it, though he already knew it was blood.   He had had his hand away from his ear for barely a second, but her voice reverberated through his ear, down the canal, and played like military marching drums in his brain.  Alto winced in pain as his skull felt like it had shattered apart, and blackness crept across his eyes.  He prayed to God to keep him coherent, and preferably alive, and altogether abandoned attempting to make the young girl stop.  On the verge of a syncopal episode, he fervently prayed to God to end the agony and quiet the lass.  Just before passing out, he thought he had seen a piece of stonework from the ceiling topple down, smashing the table nearest them to pieces.