“You’ll pay for—!”

The demon died on Falin’s sword before it could finish its sentence, the blade slicing straight down the middle of its head and through the rest of its form. The two halves of the demon’s corpse flopped to the ground with a pair of thuds, blood and guts spilling out onto the ground. A finger twitched, then the corpse went still while Falin looked around at the similar bodies around him. That had been the last of them.

Six in total, all low-rank. There had been some different details, but they had all been humanoid, about seven feet tall, with gray skin, scaled like a reptile, and whip-like tails. Weaker low-ranks tended to congregate with those similar to themselves, for all the good it did them. Some proposed they formed together, but there was insufficient evidence for that theory at the moment.

These six had certainly been weak, even for low-ranks. He had mopped them up with the ordinary steel sword he carried, not even bothering with his Sacred Blade. These were the kind of demons new recruits who didn’t have Blades yet were sent to fight. Even some ordinary warriors might have been able to handle one of them. They were beneath any Paladin, not to mention any son of House Rivelda.

But fighting demons was a Sacred Knight’s duty. In the absence of men more suited to the job, it fell to Falin to exterminate them. While doing such menial work was a bit frustrating in the moment, he did not begrudge it. Demons needed killing. That was the most basic reason his order existed. If no one else suited to the job was around, then so be it, he would handle it. That was what it meant to be both a Sacred Knight and a nobleman. With that done, he flung the worst of the gore off his sword, then produced a cloth from his pocket with which to clean the blade.

There was no need to do such proper maintenance. If the sword rusted, nothing of practical value was lost. He could fight just fine without it if need be. Summoning his Sacred Blade was, of course, also an option. Really, the sword was mainly for show. It made him look more the part of a knight to the uneducated masses who did not understand motomancy. Most at least knew Soul Blades existed these days, but understanding of them was inconsistent. There were many who believed every Sacred Knight or motomancer had a Blade, and others who thought them exceedingly rare, even to the point of only the Paladins having them. Some couldn’t understand that the weapons materialized from nothing, believing they were carried like normal weapons, or that a weapon was transformed into a Blade. Even those among the rabble who did understand Blades had been found to prefer that Sacred Knights wear weapons. Despite knowing that was pointless, these people just felt it made them look more prepared and reliable. And so Falin carried this sword, though he had little need of it. It was marginally better than his fists at best in certain fights.

Even so, it wouldn’t do not to take care of his tools. It was part of keeping up appearances, but he also placed personal import upon it. Proper care for one’s implements was important in any profession, and not doing so could lead to neglect in other areas as well. If he couldn’t be bothered to care for what was vital to his work, it would only be a matter of time before other things became not worth caring for.

Also, the sword was beautiful. An excellent piece of craftsmanship, especially considering his had been the first reltus hands to touch it. Though he didn’t need it and had chafed at carrying an ordinary sword to mollify the ignorant, Falin had long been happy to have such a masterwork on his person. With a pommel carved into an eagle’s head and the crossguard stylized as wings, the hilt was ornate, but its creator had been careful not to sacrifice practicality. The blade itself was engraved with countless feathers along the flat. Falin did not know the meaning behind the bird motif, but he knew good work when he saw it. Alas, Falin would have liked to meet the craftsman behind such work, but the sword had been issued to Falin as a gift upon becoming a Paladin. There was a record of where it had been made and purchased from, but the shop had been shuttered for good by the time Falin had gotten a chance to pay it a visit. He had never met his sword’s smith, and it seemed unlikely he ever would. He at least hoped they had retired or passed in peace. It would have been a tragedy for such a skilled creator to be killed or forced out of business.

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“Sir Knight? Is it safe?”

Falin turned to look at the woman who had spoken. She, along with a young man, had been in the midst of being attacked by the demons when Falin had come upon them. The man was also peeking out from behind another tree. Pointless. The trees wouldn’t have protected them if Falin hadn’t intervened. They may have been pushovers to him, but the average human—even the average reltus—would be helpless against even such weak demons.

“The demons are dead,” Falin said. “It’s as safe as this place ever is.”

The woman let out a sigh of relief and emerged from her hiding place, followed by the man. They looked around briefly, as if they could not trust Falin’s words. The woman’s eyes widened and she clamped a hand over her mouth as she laid eyes on the demon’s mangled forms. A silent retch seemed to wrack her body, but she didn’t vomit. The man didn’t fare much better, averting his eyes as his face tinged green.

Finally, the woman managed to recover. She took a deep breath and looked at Falin with an uneasy smile.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

Falin clicked his tongue. “I was just doing my duty. I don’t need any thanks from you.”

The woman frowned, taken aback, but pressed on. “Still, I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t showed up.”

“Died, probably,” Falin said.

The man chuckled, which Falin questioned the sanity of. For him, it had been a bit of dry humor, but, for this man, it had been very near to reality. “You’re right. But thanks to you, we’re alive. There must be something we can do to repay you.”

“There isn’t.”

Falin couldn’t imagine what these people could have to offer him. There was nothing they could give that Falin Rivelda could not obtain on his own.

Even if there had been, he wouldn’t have wanted it. They disgusted him. Fawning and groveling because he had saved their pathetic lives. There was no doubt in his mind they would have acted like all the rest if they had passed on the road without incident. Calling him a demon, fearing him.

And even if he had wanted it, he couldn’t have accepted it. Sacred Knights did not accept rewards or repayment, nor did Falin think they should.

“Please, we have to do something,” the man said. “Anything at all.”

Falin sighed as he finished cleaning his sword. “Fine. If you insist, then all I want is for you to tell people about this. Tell them Falin Rivelda, the Thirteenth Paladin saved your lives.”

The woman gasped. “A Paladin?” She beamed at her companion. “A Paladin saved us!”

“I know!” he replied before returning his attention to Falin. “You’ve got it. We’ll tell everyone we see.”

“Good. Then I need to be going,” Falin said. He sheathed his sword and directed a curt nod at them. “Good-bye.”

He walked away without waiting for a response. It was a good resolution. Having them spread the word suited both his mission from the Executive Committee and from Father. Plus, it got them to stop pestering him. Now, he got to enjoy the time until he reached town without any humans chattering or slowing him down. Or so he hoped, anyway.