The rustling of pages disturbed the somber silence that filled the library. Emir sat behind a wall of books, combing through them. With a sigh, he set the book down and moved to the next one, but he was interrupted when a tower of books dropped onto the table.
“Here are those tomes you requested.” Niel slumped into one of the chairs. “What are you looking for anyway?”
“Saint Urielle asked me to look into a new cult that’s formed in the city.” Emir glared as he rearranged the books.
“I’m sure the Patron will put it down.”
“No, I checked the records, and Patron Waldren has given them his permission to practice.” Emir’s eyes flashed between his companion and the door. “I fear that the Patron is compromised.” He whispered.
Niel sat straight and leaned over. “Why?”
“Fate is not a domain that belongs to the Virtues.” Emir replied, hiding behind his book. “If anything, it goes against the core of their being. Our lives are determined by anything other than our own actions, but concepts like fate and destiny contradict that.” Niel stared at him confused. “If this faith isn’t dedicated to a Virtue, then it must worship a Dead God.” Emir sighed in frustration.
“Then what are we waiting for!” Niel jumped from his seat. “Let’s go destroy them!”
“We can’t be too hasty.” Emir pulled his companion down. “Saint Urielle has become suspicious of Patron Waldren, and she wants to gather evidence to present to his Holiness. Otherwise, he could convince his Holiness that he was manipulated.”
“How do these books help us?”
Emir quickly skimmed through the book in his hands. “In the past, the deities have had other domains under them, for example, marriage and spousal love is a domain belonging to Touldan and Shecoga, Bellidrex was once considered the god of vengeance, and even Yaniel and Ulmerak were seen as gods of secrets. The only reason why many of Virtues’ lesser domains aren’t prominent is because of the Reformation that happened during the Blood Reign.” He rubbed his eyes in frustration. “The problem is that most of the knowledge before the Crimson Queen was lost.”
“Do you at least have any ideas on which god it could be?”
“I’ve ruled out Bellidrex and Opprez. The concept of destiny doesn’t fit the personalities of the gods of conquest and obsession.” Emir said, tapping the table. “I’ll probably add Gezaria to that list as well. I doubt the Harlot could perceive such a thing as fate and destiny, and I’d say the same about Demure, the goddess of excess. Which leaves Elithis and Ulmerak.”
“The Tome of Elithis was in this city. Could it have been started by Bartholomew Decker?”
“Now that you mention it, Saint Urielle did say the cultist were working as servants for Baron Decker.”
“Then I think we should look deeper into this Baron as well.”
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Hammers rang as they struck metal, and the heat spilled in from the forge at the back. Racks lined the walls filled with weapons alongside tables holding shields. Spears with silk tassels hung from the walls on gilded hooks. Each piece here would be a treasure in any armory, but it made Torrn’s stump itch terribly.
“What are we doing here?” he glared at his companion.
“We’re here to find you a new shield.” Regald smiled brightly. “Jericho is a fortress city, filled with many skilled blacksmiths. One of them must be able to help you with your hand.” His smile faded slightly. “Besides, you are a skilled fighter and great paladin. Not being able to use a tower shield shouldn’t keep you from fulfilling your oath.”
“My shield is a symbol, like that tiara on your head.” Torrn growled.
“It’s a circlet.” Regald adjusted the iron headpiece with a frown. “And the shield is not the symbol Torrn, you are.”
“It’s my symbol.” The large man whispered. “Without it, I feel vulnerable, weak.” His left arm shook slightly.
“Maybe you should put more faith in your Virtue, and not in some trinket.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but that doesn’t change the situation.” Torrn rubbed his stump.
Regald gently patted his friend’s shoulder. “Go look at the shields while I talk with the master. Maybe they can do something.”
Torrn nodded as he mindlessly walked over to the shields. He was impressed by the quality of the items, but none truly stood out. The bucklers were too small, perfect for a fencer, but not him, and the heaters lacked the heft he was used to. He was about to turn away until a large round shield drew his eye, and he slipped it into his right hand. The weight felt good, even if it was lighter than his old shield.
“Did you find one that you like?” Regald beamed as he approached with the smith in tow.
“Not too bad.” Torrn sneered, but it turned into a small smile. “Unfortunately, I can’t wield it.”
“There might be a way.” Regald turned to the blacksmith.
“There have been attempts at creating a special harness so that people can wield a shield without a hand.” The Smith stroked his beard. “However, it has mainly been used on small to medium shields. The weight puts too much strain on the forearm. If you were to choose a smaller shield, then I can give it a shot.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Torrn sighed as he set the shield down. “No need. I don’t feel comfortable wielding a smaller shield.”
“Why don’t we try another shop?” Regald said hastily. “Surely we can find a smith that can alter the shield for you.”
“Why not that new shop in the lower city?” A voice called out from the back, and the Smith snarled loudly.
“What shop?”
“A zymarrian opened a shop in the lower city.” The Smith sighed in frustration. “He has a few oruelians working for him, and they’ve drawn the eye of Lady Priscilla.”
“Should we take a look?” Regald eyed Torrn hopefully.
“Very well.” Torrn chuckled, slapping Regald hard on the back. “But we should at least buy the shield here first."
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Torrn and Regald stared in amazement. The central square of the lower city looked immaculate with fine stalls scattered around. The newly renovated buildings sat neatly next to each other along with the large hall at the end of the end of the square. The people running about with smiles in their clean clothing.
“I’ve never seen a lower city look this clean.” Torrn said.
“I’ve heard about the renovations, but I didn’t think they’d be this extensive.” Regald chuckled. “There’s the shop!” They stepped inside the wide two-story building.
A bell announced their entrance, and a zymarrian man stepped from behind the counter. “Welcome, and how may I be of service?” he said with a charming smile.
“Can you perform alterations of equipment?” Regald asked as Torrn slipped the shield off his back.
“Of course, my blacksmith is skilled enough to make any changes that you need.” The clerk replied. “And what alterations do you need?”
“I need to be able to use this shield with my left arm.” Torrn revealed the stump of his missing hand.
The clerk gently took Torrn’s arm. “I see. You still have most of your forearm, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.” He smiled warmly at them. “Let us go ask my smith for his opinion.”
The paladins followed the clerk into the smithy. They were amazed to see an oruelian sitting at a table polishing a wooden scabbard. The dark wood had golden inlay depicting thorny vines. Two dozen similar scabbards with swords sat on a nearby table.
“Temour, a moment of your time please.” The giant glanced at them as he sat the scabbard down. “These noble paladins are in need of alterations to their shield.”
“What kind of alterations?”
Torrn stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I lost my left hand in combat, and I need this round shield altered so I can use it without one.”
The giant took the shield and inspected it. “This shield is too new. Why not alter thine original shield?”
“Because it’s a tower shield. I’ve been told that I wouldn’t be able to wield it anymore due to the weight.”
“True words.” Temour said in thought. “Multiple straps will need to be added, so that thou canst secure it to thine arm. Maybe a secured glove to slip thine arm in would help as well.”
“Can it be done?”
“Easily. Master Ashamahn, please provide several leather belts and a glove that’ll fit his arm.” Temour set the shield onto the table. “Should be done within the hour.”
Torrn’s eyes fell to the two dozen swords. “Did you make those?”
“Yes, mine master requested them for his knights.”
“I didn’t realize the zymarrian was a noble?” Regald laughed as he took one of the swords. “They’re beautiful. Makes me want to commission a sword of my own.”
Temour’s lips twitched upwards. “I am grateful for the compliment. However, master Ashamahn is not mine master.”
“Who is your master?”
Temour looked to the square. “The one responsible for this change.”
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Urielle knelt before the statue of Shecoga. Guilt clutched her heart for her inaction, but after the events in the sewers along with the slave auction, she felt that things were beyond her. The Patron’s actions drew her suspicions, so she had sent a letter to the Archbishop. Now, she prayed that his Holiness would make the right decision.
“Saint Urielle.” She glanced over at the young acolyte. “A letter has arrived for you.”
Urielle smiled warmly as she took the letter, and she sighed in relief at the wax seal. “Thank you. Please gather my paladin companions would you.” The acolyte nodded and quietly left.
Urielle rose from her position and moved to a corner in the sanctuary. She hated the feeling of skulking about, but she didn’t want anyone to see the letter. A silent prayer escaped her lips as she opened the letter.
She immediately recognized the beautiful script of the Archbishop’s hand, which made her heart feel light in her chest. However, her shoulders slumped as the weight of his Holiness’ words fell on her, and a single tear ran down her cheek. The grave news made her head feel heavy, and she had to rest it against the wall.
“Is something the matter, my lady?” Niel asked quietly as he approached.
“I have dire news, but the others should be present to hear this.” Urielle slipped the letter up her sleeve. “Let’s head to one of the sitting rooms.” She glided through the sanctuary. “How has the research into the fate cult going?”
“We’ve exhausted everything we could here.” Niel replied quietly. “Emir is certain that the cult worships a Dead God, but he couldn’t determine which one. Perhaps a temple of Yaniel would have the answers we seek.”
“I feared as much.” Urielle sighed.
“Lady Urielle, you said they were working for Baron Decker when you met them correct?”
Horrifying realization struck her. “Yes.”
“I don’t think it’s wise to consult master Decker going forward. He’s clearly been compromised.”
“How long has he been working for our enemies.” The thoughts buzzing around her head made her stomach twist in pain. “Maybe he’s even working with Reviled Legion?”
“We should discuss this with the others.”
As they approached one of the rooms, Emir stepped out from the library and fell in line. Before they stepped inside one of the rooms, Torrn and Regald were running to catch up.
“Sorry, we recently came back from getting Torrn a new shield.” Regald said, closing the door.
“I’m glad you found a new shield.” Urielle smiled sadly at him. “I fear you’re going to need it soon.” She handed over the letter. Their eyes skimmed through, and their faces paled as they finished the letter.
“Virtues save us.” Regald whispered as the news forced him to sit. “The Wight King’s forces have breached the pass.”
“Yes, and they’re nearing Fort Delmiere. His Holiness has ordered us to head there as soon as possible.” Urielle replied gravely.
“What about the monster!” Torrn clutched the letter tightly. “We can’t simply leave it.”
“We’ll need to ask for help.” Niel sighed. “Perhaps the Duke can supply us with men?”
“What about that new order of knights?” Emir spoke up. “Also, we should worry about the fate cult. I’m certain they are worshipping a Dead God.”
“I’ll send another letter today.” Urielle took a deep breath. “Even if we won’t be here, perhaps he’ll send some priests to deal with it.”
Regald tapped his foot rapidly. “Has there been any word about Sir Solomon?”
Urielle shook her head. “All we can do is pray that he accomplishes his task.” The news weighed heavily on them. “I’ll request an appointment with his Grace tomorrow. Hopefully, he’ll see the value in working together to destroy Reviled Legion. If you’ll excuse me.”
Urielle calmly stepped outside, but her knees immediately shook when the door clicked shut. The thought of going back to the war frightened her, and she couldn’t hold back the tears. “Shecoga, help me.”