Clara kept her distance as the Paladin entered the small inn and took care of her room’s arrangements. He guided Clara upstairs - and she realized something, reaching out to tug on the Paladin’s cloak. He looked back at her questioningly.
“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your name yet, Paladin.” She had been thinking of him as ‘The Paladin’ the entire time.
“Oh, right. It’s Gideon,” he said, then continued down the hall.
Clara had expected a slightly longer response; an apology, perhaps. But this Paladin - Gideon - seemed to be blunt and honest. Not rude, she supposed, just straight to the point. Discussions between the upper class, in her experience, were often polite and overly complicated by etiquette. Paladins held a high rank in the Church, but now that she thought about it, their training would be more concerned with combat and religion.
Gideon reached the room that would be Clara’s for the night and opened the door, motioning inside. Clara stepped into the room and gave it a cursory glance. It wasn’t much, but she wasn’t going to complain. Any place to rest her head was welcome after the last few days.
“We’ll discuss our travel plans in the morning. Rest well,” Gideon said, then closed the door. Clara sat down on the bed, which was at the very least more comfortable than the one she had slept in at Wayford. She would have liked a hot bath, but she doubted that the inn would provide such a luxury; it wasn’t a particularly high-class establishment.
Her imp poked its head out of her rucksack and chittered - questioningly, Clara thought - at her. She motioned at the bed’s headboard and the demon flapped out to perch atop it. She wondered if the demon was speaking in an actual language. The book said that they were cunning but not particularly smart - but the demon that Holden had sent to her appeared to be a simple imp, and it had seemed fairly intelligent, capable of speaking a human tongue. In any case, her imp seemed relatively nonthreatening. She almost saw it as more of a pet than a denizen of the Hells Below, despite the short time she had been traveling with the demon.
Thinking back on those recent events made her realize for the first time that she no longer had to worry about being pursued. Her most immediate pursuer - Gideon - had become her traveling partner, and though she didn’t know how far the Church would go to spread the word of her ‘crimes’, she was certain that the Paladin being on her side would keep her from falling into the clutches of the Church. For the first time since she had been forced to leave home, she felt as though she could rest without any consequences. There would be no Church soldiers breaking down her door in the night if she let her guard down. It was a great weight to be lifted off her shoulders.
It didn’t mean she was completely without obligations, however. She still needed to make it to Calador, and the trip would be hazardous enough on its own. Then there was whatever tasks and training Holden meant to put her through. And after that, she still needed to find some way to use her magic to aid her family, whether they wanted the help or not.
The magic. She had avoided thinking about it - hadn’t even had the time to think about it - since her encounter with the goblins, but it had affected her actions. Maybe the Church was right about the corrupting influence of the Lower Planes. But aside from that one instance, she still felt in control of her actions. For now, at least, she was herself, and there was already no turning back from her path. All that she needed to do, ultimately, was restore her family’s position. She would see where the magic brought her afterward when the time came.
In the meantime, she couldn’t afford to be lax. She pulled out her grimoire and cracked the book open. The secrets that this tome had to offer were still not entirely hers to command, and she would need to fully grasp the book in preparation for whatever further material Holden might provide her upon reaching Calador.
It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, weary from her travels as she was.
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Gideon awoke early in the morning, as was his habit. He had neatly arranged his equipment beside his bed the night before - another good habit drilled into him during his training - and put it on within minutes of waking up. Some people no doubt found it strange that he spent most of his time in armour, but it was masterfully crafted mail in the first place and bore a few minor enchantments from the miracle workers in the Church, making it almost comfortable. The Church provided well for their elite warriors.
He didn’t believe the Elwin girl would be awake this early, so he left his room and went down the stairs. He could use the next couple of hours to procure some of the supplies they would need for their trip. Extra food would be necessity for the two of them, of course. Clara would need some new clothes - she only seemed to have the one outfit, and it bore the scars of their encounter with the goblins. An extra set of blankets wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Gideon catalogued the necessary purchases in his head as he walked towards the town square. Money wasn’t much of an issue for him, as the Church kept his purse from ever being empty. He wasn’t a particularly frivolous spender in any case; he rarely traveled with much more than his equipment and enough food to get by.
Rymoor’s town square was much the same as any other small town, an open space where merchants and vendors gathered to market their wares on ordinary days. It was perhaps a bit too early to do much buying, Gideon thought as he looked around the square. There were barely any people in the square, and even fewer traders operating. One individual caught Gideon’s eye, even from across the square. He was dressed in extravagant, almost flamboyant clothes, though they were in what Gideon could only assume was a foreign style - they didn’t look like any clothes that a native of Regnael would wear, even some of the more eccentric nobles.
The man seemed to notice Gideon as well, and started across the town square at a brisk pace. The closer he came to Gideon, the more apparent it was that he was a foreigner. His skin was a shade darker, his eyes set differently than those of a man from Regnael. It became even more apparent when he spoke, his words bearing a noticeable accent - one of the Dragonmen from the east, Gideon thought.
“You are a Paladin, no?” the foreigner asked, eying Gideon up and down, before his gaze fixed on the holy symbol around Gideon’s neck. Gideon simply nodded in response, and the man seemed to grow excited. “I had heard that one of you had just entered town. You see, I am a renowned duelist in my land, and I have traveled far to face champions of every kingdom. I am told that the Paladins of the Church are famed holy warriors, slayers of monsters and wicked men alike. I have longed to face such an opponent since hearing of your order. You must grace me with a duel.”
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“I’m sorry, but I have business of my own. Besides, you would have to be a monster or a wicked man for me to wish to face you. I’m sure you’ll find another Paladin who wishes to test his skills against you,” Gideon told the duelist, thinking of Anselm. He moved to step around the foreigner.
Something flashed in front of Gideon’s eyes, and almost before he could register what happened, the tip of a sword was at his throat. The foreign duelist, lightning-quick, had drawn his blade - a narrow, sharply pointed weapon that Gideon found rather unconventional in the brief time he had to appraise it. “I am afraid I must insist, Sir Paladin. You must seize opportunity when you find it, is something I try to live by. I won’t take much of your time; we can stop at first blood.” The sword point lowered as the foreigner took a curious stance, and Gideon took a step back. It didn’t seem like he would be resolving this peacefully.
Gideon drew his own sword and stepped back a few paces more. “Ah,” the duelist spoke again. “It is customary in my home kingdom to exchange names before a duel. Mine is Ekinitos.”
“I am Gideon,” and almost before the name had left his mouth the foreigner had stepped forwards and sent his thin blade darting towards Gideon again. Gideon diverted the blade away from him with his own, answering with a slash at his opponent’s unarmoured chest, which was turned away by a deft movement of the easterner’s sword. They exchanged several more blows like this, testing each other’s defenses. It became apparent that, compared to Gideon’s, the foreigner’s armament was fast and precise, designed for the singular purpose of dueling rather than general use.
Gideon had gathered this from their brief exchange, and it seemed like Ekinitos had come to the same conclusion as his attacks gained in speed, likely trying to press his perceived advantage. Gideon was forced to focus entirely on defending himself for a moment or two, before a careless thrust gave Gideon an opportunity to strike back, believing his mail would turn the stab aside.
The Paladin was surprised when, rather than being met with the sensation of the blade being turned away, it cut through the links of his armour. He was forced to abort his strike to deflect the duelist’s blade away, stepping back to create some space between the two of them, his sword up to ward off any further attacks.
Despite how brief the exchange was, the two combatants were drawing heavy breaths. Ekinitos shot Gideon a grin, the tip of his blade steady. “What’s the matter, Paladin? I know your sword is not exactly designed for a duel, but I expected better of your order regardless. Or are you only capable of fighting monsters and beasts that lack any true skill?”
Gideon’s eyes narrowed at the insult to his order, but he pushed aside the duelist’s taunts as just that - meaningless banter. He focused on the man’s sword instead. No ordinary weapon held by an ordinary man could cut through mail so easily, especially not a thrusting sword such as he was faced with. He blinked, calling upon his divinely granted powers, and when he opened his eyes again he could see the world around him painted in a picture of auras. The sword lacked one, meaning it was only a normal weapon. The duelist’s aura surprised Gideon, in that it was completely normal. Or maybe normal wasn’t quite the correct word - it was a pure, solid white as one would expect of a normal person, but it was somehow more pure, more solid, larger than any aura untouched by supernatural forces should be.
Gideon had hoped to glean some understanding of the duelist before him, and perhaps divine a weakness, but he was only left with more questions. He blinked again and the auras were gone - and Ekinitos seemed finished with the fight’s brief pause, lunging forwards to stab at the Paladin again, seeming yet faster after his short respite. Gideon put all of his focus on parrying the narrow blade, and picked a moment to slam the duelist’s sword aside with more force than usual. As Gideon predicted, the thinner, lighter blade was easier for him to overpower, and the duelist seemed slightly off-balance. The Paladin’s sword darted out towards the foreigner - and before Gideon could tell what had happened, he found his vision obscured and his attack disrupted by something heavy and formless.
The Paladin stumbled back, tearing at whatever had interrupted him, and found himself holding the duelist’s cloak. He was still holding onto it when he deflected several more blows from the duelist’s blade, holding his own sword one-handed, before throwing the man’s cloak back at him. Ekinitos danced away, avoiding being entangled by his own move, and seemed content to keep his distance, shooting Gideon another grin.
“A bit of a dirty trick, don’t you think?”
“I am but an unarmoured man, faced by the very best this kingdom’s Church has to offer. What was it I said about opportunity earlier?”
Gideon snorted. He resumed a proper stance, both hands on his sword, and once he had caught his breath he threw himself into another slash. The two combatants exchanged blows for a third time - and now the duelist was mixing in kicks and punches with his off hand every time Gideon thought he might have the advantage. They did little to hurt, armoured as Gideon was, but they did distract, and kept the Paladin from making any solid counterattacks.
Despite his reluctance to take part in this duel, Gideon found himself wanting to win. The foreign duelist had disparaged the order, and Gideon was not about to let that slide - or let an unarmoured man with no apparent magic beat him. The Paladin hadn’t truly called on any magic of his own, but he almost felt that he must. Ekinitos was a challenging combatant - his blade was fast enough on its own, but every time Gideon found himself focusing solely on it he got clouted by the duelist’s fist or hampered by a kick.
The narrow blade passed by Gideon’s face, avoiding his cheek by the narrowest of margins. That was close enough; the Paladin felt that it was time to end the duel, and called power up from deep within him. He channeled that power into his sword, and the blade shone from within, a pure and golden light. The swords of the two combatants met, edge to edge, and Gideon’s empowered blade sheared through that of the smaller sword. Ekinitos seemed surprised for a brief moment, before the tip of Gideon’s blade came to rest under his chin.
The foreign duelist put his hands up in surrender. “You were holding back, hm? It’s my loss, of course. I’ve no weapon to continue with.”
The tip of Gideon’s sword lowered and he sheathed it, almost abashed. He had not wanted to win that way, using his divinely granted abilities against a seemingly normal man. He reached down to pick up the sundered half of the narrow blade off of the ground. “I can direct you to a reputable blacksmith, if you wish…”
Ekinitos waved a hand dismissively. “It is not the blade that is important, but my own skills. I must improve if I wish to face off against the Church’s finest again.” He picked his cloak up off the ground, shook the dust off of it, and put it back on. “If we meet again, Paladin, I will want a rematch. Until then.”
Gideon watched as the duelist walked off, feeling that the farewell was rather abrupt. He looked around the square, realizing now that the fight was over that it had attracted a small crowd, even though it couldn’t have lasted for more than a few minutes. A few of the gathered townsfolk were clapping or cheering for Gideon’s victory.
He noticed the Elwin girl among the crowd, and their eyes met. Gideon strode across the square to her, and she greeted him with a congratulatory clap. “I’m no expert on swordplay, but that seemed a fine display.”
The noblewoman seemed more talkative than she had been the day before. That was good; Gideon didn’t want his travel companion being scared into silence their whole trip. “He was a skilled opponent. I wanted to end the fight with steel alone, but…” He shrugged.
“The townsfolk seemed to enjoy it, regardless.” Clara motioned around the square. The people had started chatting amongst themselves, but by the gazes and occasional pointing in his direction, Gideon was still the focus of their attention.
“I suppose it’s one way to inspire them,” Gideon replied, feeling slightly better about how the fight had gone. There was more than one way to be a beacon of hope to the kingdom’s people, and reminding them of the strength of their champions must be one of them. Who would not be heartened to know that these were the men who fought against whatever darkness may threaten them?
“Before I got caught up in that, I was planning on buying our provisions for the journey. If you wouldn’t mind accompanying me, we can discuss our plans and be on the road within the hour.”
Clara nodded, separating herself from the small crowd to follow Gideon towards his choice of market stall.