Falin spent almost a full day combing the area outside the village. Since the father’s directions had been vague and Falin’s senses weren’t the most precise from this distance, he had little choice but to take a lengthy, winding path in the hopes of finding the boy on the way to the demon. Falin’s ability to detect weak mortals was almost nonexistent, so he had to rely on his more conventional senses.
Though he had stopped for a brief rest at night, Falin had been searching for almost the entire time since leaving the village. There was no sign of the boy so far. That was not encouraging. If the boy had caught up the demon, he may well have been dead. Then again, this demon seemed to enjoy crippling its victims, so maybe the boy was just missing an arm and bleeding out now. Falin doubted the family would be happy with that, whether the boy survived or not.
On the other hand, it was also possible the boy had gotten lost. As the village’s name implied, the area around Flatfield was a broad, featureless plain with nothing but grass for miles. Considering everything looked the same, it wouldn’t have been strange for even someone who lived here to struggle to navigate it. In that case, though, the boy was still in danger. If he couldn’t get back soon, he was facing dehydration and starvation. Falin hadn’t asked, but he had not gotten the impression the boy had taken the appropriate supplies for his self-imposed mission. In so much as there could be appropriate supplies for something so foolish. The terrain also meant the boy should have been easy to see, but, even going in the demon’s general direction, there was a lot of ground to cover.
Of course, it was also possible the boy had gotten smart and turned back, going back to town. That was rather likely, in fact, Falin thought. The boy may have been reckless and stubborn enough to run out to fight a demon, but surely he would be smart enough to realize he was in over his head and give up soon after. Falin may not have had a high opinion of the average human’s intelligence, but this was just basic survival instinct. A cockroach could do it.
And yet, as it turned out, this boy couldn’t. Falin found him at last after a day, still trudging on in the direction of the demon. His movements were sluggish from fatigue. The bags under his eyes were big enough to hold his weight in gold. It looked like he hadn’t slept since he had set out. Yet he was still moving forward inch by inch in languid steps.
“What are you doing?” Falin asked as he approached.
The boy jumped in surprise and, after a moment of impotent flailing in fear, settled into a sloppy fighting stance, fists raised in front of him. His eyes scanned Falin and, another moment later, he relaxed his stance. Exhaustion and fear alike evaporated off his features, his bright blue eyes sparkling as a broad smile overtook him.
“You’re a Sacred Knight!” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Yes, I am,” Falin said. “I asked you a question.”
The boy stood tall—as tall as he could, at any rate—and puffed out his chest. “I’m going to kill the demon that’s been attacking my village.”
Falin sighed. “I take it you’re Jonik.” The boy matched the description. “This is foolish.”
“That’s me,” the boy said. He deflated and scowled. “Now you sound like my dad. I’m almost a man. I can handle this.”
“Your father asked me to find you because he was worried,” Falin said. “And I see that he was right to be. This isn’t about manhood. Demons are dangerous. A weak demon is beyond the strongest man without motomancy. Even a child half your age knows that.”
Technically, that was a bit of an exaggeration. A skilled warrior could handle the weakest low-rank, though with great difficulty. Still, that was talking about the cream of the crop fighting the bottom of the barrel. Anything else was beyond humans and even most relti. And it was besides the point, really. A high-rank demon could kill this boy with all the difficulty he would swat a fly. Maybe less. That was what was important to impart at the moment.
Jonik looked at the ground and shuffled his feet nervously. “Well, yeah, but…”
“But nothing,” Falin said. “If you had even the slightest chance of success I would applaud your bravery, but all you were ever going to do is die. Do you know what a high-rank demon is?”
Strangely, Jonik regained some cheer at that. He grinned and nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I’ve read about this. High-ranks are the ones that look like relti, and they’re really strong, right? Like, you’ve gotta redraw the maps every time they fight.”
“Actually needing to do that is rare, but you’ve got the gist right,” Falin said, although there was on an ongoing effort to revise the south’s maps. “They’re strong, and they wreak massive destruction, often simply as collateral damage. The demon you’re going off to fight is a high-rank.”
“Well, I didn’t know that. I never saw it…” Jonik set his jaw and seemed about to continue his weak defense, but then hung his head again instead. “Okay, well…maybe this wasn’t my best idea. But the town was in danger! I couldn’t just do nothing…” Before Falin could respond, Jonik sighed and shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, that might have been on my mind too, but I mostly just wanted to show Dad that I was serious.”
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“Serious how?” Falin asked, though he got the feeling he was going to regret asking. “What are you going on about?”
Jonik sighed. “My dad is the village’s blacksmith. And, of course, he wants me to take over after him. He’s been teaching me how to do it since I could walk. But I’ve always hated it. The idea of doing that forever makes me want to chop my hands off. I want to be a Sacred Knight, to fight for and protect everyone, and I’ve been telling Dad that for years.
“He keeps saying I can’t, I have to be a blacksmith. But worse, I don’t think he even really takes me seriously. He thinks I’m joking, or that it’s a phase, and any day now, I’ll give it up and discover my love of smithing. I guess I wanted to show him that I was serious, that this was the job for me. It sounds stupid now, but that’s what I was thinking.”
“You’re right, it does sound stupid,” Falin said. “The whole thing sounds idiotic. You ought to listen to your father. He knows better than you what’s right for you and your family.”
He was no stranger to conflicts of this sort. Falin himself had wanted to be an artist when he was younger. Or perhaps an artisan of some sort. He had never decided whether he preferred to put paintings in people’s hearts or tools in their hands, but he had known he liked crafting beauty.
Father had had different plans, of course. To dominate the Sacred Knights, show the world relti superiority, and spread House Rivelda’s influence far and wide. With his older brother set to inherit the House, Falin was left as the piece in this plan. Father had made it clear that Falin would join the Sacred Knights, and Falin had agreed, as was his duty as a son of House Rivelda. Besides, those ambitions had been beneath him. Nobility enjoyed art, lesser nobility might have even taken up music or painting, but a Rivelda did not toil to create such things, and they certainly did not sully their hands with base pursuits like smithing or woodwork.
Jonik groaned. “Not you too! You’re a Sacred Knight, you should get it.” He scowled. “Look, it doesn’t matter what anyone says, I’m not changing my mind. Besides, there’s no point to me becoming a blacksmith anyway. I wouldn’t be any good at it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Falin said. “It’s a matter of practice like anything else. I won’t deny talent exists, but you can overcome it in most things with enough hard work. My potential was considered middling as a child, and now I’m a Paladin. I doubt your village’s standards are that high either, to be frank.”
“You’ve got a point, but—Wait, you’re a Paladin?” Jonik exclaimed. “That’s awesome! I got to meet a Paladin? Man, no one’s gonna believe this.”
“I’m fairly sure most of your village saw me,” Falin said. “I don’t think you’ll have much trouble convincing anyone.”
Even though most couldn’t recognize a Paladin on sight and Falin hadn’t told anyone, most were quick to believe him, and he was sure the same would go for Jonik. Falin assumed they noticed the numerals on his uniform after being told, though he was wary of overestimating their intelligence. The rarity of impostors was likely another factor. Impersonating a Sacred Knight was a serious offense in most of Ysuge, a Paladin even more so. And while most had never seen one, descriptions and depictions of the Paladins were widely available. Not to mention that someone with a bit of motomancy knowledge could dismantle any such scam with ease.
“Oh, right you did say you talked to Dad, so you must have stopped by the village,” Jonik said. Falin had thought that didn’t need to be said. “What was I saying? Oh, yeah, you’ve got a good point. I guess I can’t say I wouldn’t be any good. I mean, shadows, as much as I don’t want to be, I’m already decent. But I don’t think I’d ever be as good as I could be, you know? Definitely not as good as Dad, and that’s who everyone’s gonna compare me too, including him.”
Falin raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
“’Cause I don’t want to,” Jonik said. “It’s hard to give anything my all when all I can think of is all the stuff I’d rather be doing instead. Like, maybe if I liked it, I could be the best blacksmith in the world. Maybe even if I just disliked it a little, I could suck it up and be the best. But since I hate it, even if I say I’m trying my hardest, I’ll be, what’s the word? Subcont…”
“Subconsciously?”
“Yeah, that. I’ll be subconsciously holding back. So, instead of the best, maybe I’d be tenth best or something. And I’d hate it the whole time. And then, since I’m doing it anyway, I’ll want to be the best, but I won’t be because I hate it and I’m holding back, so then I’ll just get more frustrated, and round and round I’ll go.”
Falin snarled. “What absurd reasoning. Truly that of a child. If you were going to say something so foolish, you might as well have ignored my question.”
Jonik scowled and puffed himself up again. “I already told you, you’re not changing my mind, even if you’re a Paladin. If you’re gonna take me home, just go ahead and do it already.”
Falin was quite tempted. He didn’t want to be in this foolish child’s presence for a moment longer. He knew why, but he preferred not to think about it. Unfortunately, taking the boy back right away didn’t seem the best move.
“No, you’re coming with me,” he said. “Even if there wasn’t a demon about, sending you home from here alone would be dangerous. Besides, the demon is getting farther away. If I take you home, I might lose track of it, and I can’t allow something this strong to escape.”
Jonik paled. “I’m…gonna be there when you fight the demon.”
“Close by,” Falin said. “I’ll try to find someplace relatively safe to stash you, and I’ll do my best to ensure you don’t get hurt. What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“Just ‘cause I wanna be a Sacred Knight doesn’t mean I’m ready now!” the boy exclaimed. “I already admitted it was stupid of me to come out here. You said a bunch of stuff was gonna get destroyed, right? I can’t be a knight if I get destroyed.”
“My abilities are not terribly destructive, and I will make sure the demon doesn’t harm you.”
Jonik pursed his lips, then sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll be fine with a Paladin protecting me.”
“Good,” Falin said. “But first, lie down and take a nap. I’m not slowing down to your snail’s pace and I am not carrying you.”
Jonik yawned and nodded. “I could use a nap, but couldn’t we find someplace to—?”
“Now.”
“All right, all right, Great Telresen you’re grumpy,” Jonik said, lying down. “Oh, but first, what’s your name? Which Paladin are you?”
“Falin Rivelda, Thirteenth Paladin,” Falin said.
“Nice to meet you,” Jonik replied. “I’m Jonik, future First Paladin.”
Falin frowned. “I very much doubt that. Go to sleep.”
Jonik chuckled and closed his eyes. He was asleep less than ten seconds later.