His Paladin: An MM Contemporary Romance

by Oliver, J. P.

  13

  Quinn

  I was tired down to my bones.

  A month and a half passed by in the blink of an eye. The base was constantly busy, supply moving more equipment than ever as the new batch of recruits came in. And preparations for Lochmire’s Last Battle event were more frentic than ever before, the event itself only two weeks away. Raine had stopped being so surly to me, thank God, but he hadn’t stopped taking on almost all of the work, Roux and I still delegated to simple tasks while Raine kept chipping away at everything else on his own.

  It was very clearly wearing on him -- his bright enthusiasm had visibly dulled, his sharp sense of humor replaced by a sullen, morose attitude. Roux and I continued to gently remind him that we were both ready and more than willing to really step in and help out, but Raine ignored every one of our attempts. Thankfully, we had some minor victories: with enough prodding from me and Roux, we managed to get Raine to agree to bringing a few more people from the LARP community onboard. But Raine insisted on personally overseeing everything they did, often butting in and taking over the project himself. It was rapidly becoming clear nothing short of an intervention would do anything to make him realize that we really and truly wanted to help, dividing the massive burden up into manageable chunks, but Raine was clearly not having any of it.

  I sighed to myself, watching Nguyen, Perez, and Miller perform their respective duties, handing out equipment, managing the inventory system, and putting new arrivals in their proper place. If I was the same as Raine, I would’ve burned myself out within two hours. All of it was too much for one person to do; that’s why there were four of us. I wished it could be easier for Raine to see that.

  “Hey Sarge,” Nguyen called, sifting through the new shipment of night-vision goggles, checking each one for any obvious flaws. “Did you ever decide on a place for Fun Day? It’s two weeks out, now, right?”

  “I have,” I told him, and Perez and Miller turned around from their own activities in interest. “We’re going to take part in a LARP battle at Lochmire Castle.”

  All of them looked extremely confused, but I was prepared for that. I gave them a quick explanation: introducing the idea of making up a fantasy character to play as, kitting themselves out with appropriate equipment, and the basics of combat.

  Nguyen scrunched up his face. “So is this like...one of those weird nerd things?”

  Perez tilted her head thoughtfully. “I played Dungeons and Dragons with my nieces over Hanukkah last year. It was fun.”

  Nguyen whipped his head around to stare at her. “Aw, man, Perez, seriously?” he whined. “You’re a nerd? I can’t ever look at you the same way again.”

  “You do know that somewhere near half the damn base plays D&D, right?” Miller said, placing a friendly hand on Perez’s shoulder before she could move to potentially murder Nguyen right where he stood. “Seriously, what did you think all the corkboard ads in the Mess Hall for ‘Adventurers’ and ‘Dungeon Masters’ meant?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Nguyen replied grumpily, and then, staring at his boots, muttered. “No one ever asked me to play.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” Perez said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

  “That’s enough,” I told them, firmly. “I’m helping out during the event, so I won’t be able to give you three a lot of direct oversight, but I expect you all behave yourselves. It’s going to be a big one. people from all over the country are going to be there.”

  Nguyen raised both eyebrows. “People all over the country do this stuff? That’s wild.”

  “Where should we look to start making up these, uh, characters, Sergeant?” Miller asked. Their initial confusion now seemed to be replaced with cautious optimism, much to my relief. I brought them in my office to take a look at the Lochmire webpage, showing them a basic outline of everything they would need to bring for the event. Before we all left for the day, I also informed them about Lochmire’s equipment rentals: participants could pay a fee to have the necessary equipment for the event, instead of buying it outright. It was a smart tactic, especially since so many were likely flying in and didn’t have the luggage space for everything they needed.

  Raine’s idea, and, of course, he was planning on running the check-in/check-out log by himself. How he was going to manage that while running around a hundred other things, I had no idea.

  As the now familiar sight of Lochmire Castle greeted me as I pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel something like an old tennis shoe: overused, tattered, and worn. I couldn’t even imagine what Raine was feeling. He probably hadn’t even eaten today, unless Roux had managed to coax him out for some fast food. Grimacing, I made a note to stop at the nearby deli tomorrow. A soup and sandwich would go a long way for Raine.

  I walked inside Lochmire, surprised to find the place nearly empty. Roux appeared around the corner, looking relieved to see me.

  “Where’s Raine?” I asked, and Roux nearly rolled his eyes out of his sockets.

  “Kate and Kurt offered to help clear the trails, so he decided to march up there and critique the way they pick up sticks and rake leaves.” Roux sounded as tired as I felt. I shook my head.

  “Why is he doing this?” I asked. Roux shifted his mouth to one side, shrugging.

  “He gets like this with anything important. And this is the most important thing to him right now. Well, besides Nicole.” He grinned. “Maybe you’re in the mix there, somewhere.”

  I felt myself blush, but I pressed on. “Can we do anything? He’s got to know that he can’t keep doing this to himself. There’s people here who want to help him -- really help him, not just do busy work so he can shove them aside.”

  Roux sighed. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Since I’ve known him, really. He just shuts me down before I can even finish.”

  I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall, thinking. “Well, what if we talked to him together? He can’t ignore both of us.”

  Roux barked a rueful laugh. “You’d think that.” He tapped the toe of his left foot against the floor. “Well, I guess we can give it a shot, if you’re sure about it. Raine can get pretty nasty when he’s worked up.”

  “I noticed,” I deadpanned, and Roux snorted.

  “I guess you have.” He craned his neck around the corner to look through the glass door at the entrance. “Here he comes. Last chance to bail.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, and Roux gave me a curious look and a resolute nod.

  Raine nearly sprinted through the door, holding an enormous pile of spell beanbags. Roux and I moved together to take some from him, but Raine rapidly shook his head.

  “I got it,” he snapped, already clearly irritated. Roux shot me a concerned glance, but I wasn’t about to back down.

  “No, you don’t,” I told him firmly, stepping right in front of him and grabbing a large handful from him. Raine blinked at me, surprised, but his mouth twisted into a sullen scowl.

  “Listen, I’ve got it all --”

  “‘Under control,’” Roux finished for him, stepping forward to take some beanbags from Raine as well. “We’ve heard all this before, Raine,” he said, his voice gentle. Raine looked between us, and I could see the realization wash over his face: this was going to be a conversation, a real one, and he was absolutely not having it.

  “Raine, you need to start delegating,” I said, trying for a gentle tone myself. It didn’t exactly come out that way: over a month of tiredness and watching Raine wear himself down to nearly nothing had upset me. “Really delegating.” I pointed at Roux. “Roux can handle orders and the equipment displays fine on his own -- you know this, he’s done it every day you’ve been working with him. And I’m nowhere near as well-versed in this stuff as both of you, but I can make phone calls, or clear trails, or take inventory without you breathing down my neck. You have people here who care about Lochmire as much as you do, Raine.” I smiled. “We can help you. We want to help you. So let us help.”
>
  Raine was quiet, his lips pressed into a thin line. And then, to my shock, I watched his face contort into a mask of pure fury.

  “No one cares about Lochmire as much as me,” he hissed. “That’s why I’ve got to do this. All of this.” He looked accusingly at Roux. “It doesn’t matter how much experience anyone else has. This event has to be perfect, and the only way it’s going to be that way is if I personally oversee every single moving part.”

  Roux looked near tears, his eyes soft and concerned. “Raine, we just --”

  “Get out,” he spat, his voice ice cold. “If you don’t like what I’m telling you to do, then get the hell out of my way.”

  “Fine,” I replied, and Roux stared up at me in horror. “We’ll go. C’mon, Roux.”

  He hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave Raine alone, but he still followed me, walking past as I paused at the door. Raine was sputtering indignantly, his mouth moving rapidly but with nothing close to a word escaping from it, all of him pure rage and venom.

  “Call me,” I told him, “when you’re ready to really talk.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply, turning on my heel, the door of Lochmire closing behind me. I passed Kate and Kurt on my way back to my car, the pair of them staring after me in confusion, watching Roux angrily start his car and speed out of the lot.

  When I finally got to my apartment, I tried to distract myself with some TV. It didn’t work, my mind churning with guilt. Maybe I’d been too hard on Raine: he was under so much pressure to make sure the event would excel, but I knew for a fact there was no way he was going to manage all of it without assistance.

  When my phone rang, I jolted upright, grabbing it and answering it so fast I didn’t even check who was calling. I stood, pacing the room, my entire body buzzing with nervous energy.

  “Raine?” I blurted, flush with stupid hope.

  “Sorry, just me.” Roux. I sighed, closing my eyes briefly. Of course Raine wouldn’t call me. Not yet, anyway.

  “Everything okay?” I asked him. Roux made a frustrated grumble.

  “I mean, as well as it can be.” He paused. “I wanted to tell you did the right thing today. With Raine. He’s hurting --” My stomach lurched; that was the last thing I wanted to do to him -- “but that’s a good thing. Only thing he’s going to listen to. I know he’s gonna kill himself working on the Last Battle like this unless he wises up. He’s just digging his heels in and claiming everything’s fine when it’s obviously blowing up all around him like a Michael Bay movie.”

  “Why is he like this?” If anyone would know, it would be Roux. There was a rustling noise on the other end of the line, and when Roux spoke next, his voice was unusually serious.

  “His parents...well, they weren’t the best. They didn’t really, like, parent. No structure, no boundaries, no nothing. When he left -- at seventeen, not even out of high school -- he never looked back, and he sure as hell wasn’t ready for the real world. He did...a lot of stuff. A lot of things he regrets. LARP was always his place to get away from all that. When he was LARPing, he could pretend to be somebody else, someone with their shit together. And when he discovered that other people felt the same way about it, he founded Lochmire. A place where everyone could pretend to have the life they always wanted, just for a little while. It’s not just a shop for him. It’s way deeper than that.”

  I quietly absorbed all of this, piecing it together with Raine’s behavior. Someone raised like that would be desperate for control, reluctant to trust anyone else. And they’d be anxious -- not wearing it on their sleeves, but hiding it just underneath a facade.

  “Thank you,” I told Roux quietly, “for telling me this.”

  “Hey, no problem. If he was in a better mood, he’d want you to know.” His voice sounded lighter, closer to the Roux I was familiar with. “And if I know Raine, he’s probably going to call you in about ten minutes to apologize.”

  I laughed. “Really? After that?”

  “Oh, definitely.” Roux’s tone had a mischievous bite to it now. “He’s not used to people standing up to him like that. It probably gave him a clear sign he was doing something really wrong.”

  Roux was wrong. Raine called me five minutes later.

  I was in the middle of another barely passable excuse for dinner, carefully eyeing my buzzing phone as it displayed Raine’s name. I was ready, this time. Taking a quick breath to steady my nerves, I answered it after the third ring.

  “Hello?” I was careful to keep my voice even.

  “I’m sorry,” Raine grated, quick and petulant.

  A good first step, but that wasn’t what this was really about, and he knew it. “And…?”

  “And what?” he snapped. “I apologized. What more do you want from me?”

  My heart sank, but I stayed firm. “You know exactly what I want. Can you promise me to ease off a little? Start delegating things to the people who want to help you?”

  There was a frustrated groan at the end of the other line. “No,” he said, and the word hit me like a blow to the gut. “I can’t promise that.”

  I hung up.

  It was childish, but there wasn’t any way in hell I was going to keep my temper in check after this. Raine wasn’t just being temperamental -- he was endangering the very thing that was so important to him, refusing to listen to any reason.

  There was no way this could possibly continue in this state. Raine was either going to have to see sense, or watch everything crumble around him.

  And I hoped to hell it wouldn’t get to that point.

  14

  Raine

  Why did I agree to let more people onboard to assist with preparing for the Last Battle?

  I guessed I knew exactly why. Quinn and Roux had been insistent, and I acquiesced mostly just to get them to stop talking about it. Kurt and Kate had been the most enthusiastic, excited about the prospect of their handiwork during the last event having such a big impact on their home turf, and most of my regulars -- Eric, Hannah, Olivia, Walter, and, yes, even Greg -- were much the same way. They were happy to volunteer, to help make the event the best Juhanis had ever seen. Quinn said their intimate knowledge of Lochmire and hands on expertise in LARP equipment and prep would be strong assets in making sure the Last Battle event was everything it needed to be.

  I really needed to stop listening to Quinn.

  “Eric!” I called, shaking my head and walking towards his place near the workbench. “Don’t bother! I’ll make those.”

  Eric blinked at me owlishly, frowning in confusion, not making any motion to move aside -- still standing in my way. “Oh, I don’t have a problem putting together those axes,” he said cheerily. “I’ve done it plenty of --”

  “I said I’ll do it!” Too harsh, too loud -- too late to take it back. My nerves were on a knife-edge, and it didn’t take much now to set me off in the ugliest kind of way. Eric scrambled away from me and the weapon cores to the other end of the room, his eyes wide and frightened. Everyone turned around to shoot me a worried look -- including Nicole, who was over in a corner with Roux and Quinn, the three of them sorting reams of fabric. I felt Quinn’s cold, steely gaze on me like a slap, and I quickly looked away from him. Hanging up on me last night still stung, and I was still in a sour mood. But I didn’t have time to talk to him about it, and it didn’t take me long to push those feelings aside in favor of concentrating on what was still pending. After all, there sure as hell wasn’t a shortage of things I needed to do. God, there were still so many things I needed to do.

  Between getting Nicole to and from school as well as to her other extracurriculars -- dance, soccer, and piano -- my life had been nothing but a frenetic tornado of getting to Lochmire and trying to accomplish a hundred different things. Strung out on sleep and now two days without a shower, I probably looked as utterly exhausted as I felt, but I kept frantically pushing myself onwards. With just one week to go until the Last Battle, it felt like every time I successfully crossed something off my l
ist, another three sprang up to take its place, the endless heads of my own personal hydra. Fishing the tattered, overfolded paper out of my pocket, I flipped it open, quickly scanning each line and trying to get a grasp on the endless list of things that were still outstanding, trying to prioritize what needed to be done today.

  Finishing the last of the weapons -- just axes and spears, now, but at least twenty of each needed to be made and prepped. Making sure we had enough tables and chairs ready for the other sellers, the people who offered custom gear or special knicknacks to enhance the experience, like artisanal potion bottles or hand-sewn tunics. Specialized equipment for specific classes: more beanbags for the spellcasters, indicators for the druids, and numerous costume supplies like facepaint, silicone ears, fake beards, and a whole host of others. And then I needed to find someone who knew something about hydraulics to take a look at what was wrong with the dragon…

  There were more. A lot more. But I couldn’t even concentrate on any of those for longer than a second. Everywhere around me was abuzz with activity, the air thick with the smell of leather and oil and plastic, bright, friendly conversation peppered with laughter scattered throughout the whole building. Work was being done, the ever present feeling that none of it was right gnawed at the back of my mind like a dog with a bone. It wasn’t just enough for Lochmire to host the event: we needed to blow the whole thing out of the water if Lochmire was going to have the legacy it deserved. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than perfection, from me, or anyone else, even if it meant working harder than I ever had before, putting most of the responsibility on myself.

  I stepped outside for a moment, throwing my jacket around my shoulders, scanning the grounds. The landscaping company I had hired were finishing the last of mowing the grass on the main field, though from what I was seeing, I was pretty sure I’d need to come back out with a weed whacker to finish the job properly. A large structure made up of painted wood and PVC pipes -- what would be the “real” Lochmire Castle over the course of the event -- had been put up earlier this morning, thanks to Quinn, me, and Roux, but it still needed to be painted over with a new, better gray color I had picked up this afternoon during my hardware store run. The color it was currently painted was too light, not similar enough to stone. From this distance, I noticed that several archer slits were cut unevenly. Just by maybe a half inch or so, but even that could potentially affect someone’s aim. I made yet another mental note to go out and improve it myself.