by Billy Wong
A plumed-helmed guard with a bushy mustache raised a trimmed eyebrow at them while they approached. "Crimes do not have to be reported directly to the Commandant."
"We're not here to report a crime." On second thought they were, but not one that could be discussed with just anyone. "We need to speak privately with Lord Talben."
"On what sort of matter? Not just any beaten up children can be admitted into the manor."
"What should we say?" Sam whispered to Vincent. "We can't tell him about the Paladins, in case he'll talk." Normally she would have tried to come up with something herself, but she was still dizzy... very dizzy.
Vincent too seemed momentarily at a loss. Then he said, "We came through the wilderness from Berilim. We've seen daimons."
The guard's brow rose further. "Is that what happened to you?"
Sam joined in. "They grievously injured one of our friends and we had to leave her behind. We don't know if she's even alive right now." That was... technically true. "We don't know what danger they pose to the city either." Also technically true. "One of them was huge, and able to shoot blasts that could either destroy physically or attack the lifeforce." Dead now, but that was a minor detail.
"That is disconcerting. I suppose I should give you a chance to share your story with the Commandant."
He allowed them through the gates. They crossed a meticulously planned and maintained front garden, multitudinously colored flowers grown in complex patterns, to the heavy polished door. Sam knocked and waited until it opened to reveal a tall middle-aged butler in clean but plain vest and pants. "We're here to see Commandant Talben. The guard already approved, can you lead us to him?"
"Young lady, I am Commandant Talben."
She and Vincent recoiled. "Er, I... nice to meet you!"
He laughed. "I imagine what you're really thinking is, 'I thought he would be better dressed.'"
"Actually, I thought you'd be older..."
"And why is that?"
She remembered they weren't supposed to mention Drea. "Misinformation." So since Drea likely didn't consider most in their forties old men, she probably had a more familiar relationship than this commandant than she let on. Might be a good thing, if she trusted in him.
Talben looked from Sam's face to Vincent's and back, his angular countenance quite keen. "Am I to assume you were the victims of a crime?"
Vincent replied, "How to say it... yes and no. Is it possible for us to talk in private?"
"I am not terribly preoccupied at the moment. Follow me."
He led them towards the twin staircases at the back of the lobby. Sam took note of something between them. A breastplate stood on display upon a podium. It looked to be specifically made to suit a woman's frame, the contours matching those on a feminine body. In the front of the armor was a large rent. When she walked past it, a matching hole could be seen on the backplate. Sam felt a slight sadness as she realized what must have happened.
"Who did that armor belong to?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't stir up too many bad memories but too curious to stop herself.
"My daughter, a great warrior."
So young too, no doubt. Sam's sadness grew. "I'm sorry for your loss."
The commandant smiled back. "Loss? She is not dead. She is simply away at present. You must have thought so due to the wound, no? My daughter is, as they say, tougher than shit."
Sam and Vincent exchanged wide-eyed looks and purposely fell behind to get some distance from their host. "You think he's Drea's father?" she asked him in a whisper.
"It would seem highly probable based on Drea saying she had worse before, and his daughter being a great warrior, and that 'shit' line..."
"I suppose they must have had a falling out, and that's why she said not to mention her? Maybe he kicked her out of the house and she decided to explore the world after."
Vincent smiled weakly. "It's actually a small relief, to know she didn't send us into the care of some old man she barely knew. And 'old man' makes a lot more sense now."
"I wonder why she didn't bring that breastplate with her, though? Or have it fixed for that matter."
"Well, we know Drea can be a bit of a strange person."
"Maybe she just didn't think she would need heavy armor being an actor." On the other hand, the journey between cities...
Arriving upstairs, Talben brought them into a cluttered office with books and papers piled everywhere and sat behind his somewhat undersized-looking desk. "Sit, or stand if you please." Being exceptionally worn out, Sam relocated some texts from the plush guest chairs to the desk and sat. Her dizziness was still so great, she practically fell into her seat and almost swooned before willfully snapping her head upright. "Now, what is the urgent issue my guard allowed you into my home to discuss?"
"I apologize," Vincent said, also sitting down, "but we told him some things about daimons that are true, but not the most pertinent." Talben squinted curiously. "I believe we haven't introduced ourselves properly. I'm Vincent, and this is Sam. We require your aid to save my adoptive brother from the Paladins."
"The Paladins?"
Sam nodded. "Yes. Our friend Eli is a seventeen year old boy who has never harmed another person in his life, and was taken forcefully from our home with no warning or justification one night. We believe they brought him here, do you know anything of this?"
Talben studied them carefully. "Before I answer your question, let me ask you one. How am I to know you are honest, and not trying to entrap me?"
"Do our wounds look fake to you?" Vincent asked. "We're cut up, brutally beaten and have broken bones in our faces, doesn't that seem a tad far to go to sell our story?"
"There are some who will go to great lengths for their work, greater even than that."
Sam considered the nature of the Paladins' dark order, and imagined their members might so devout they would even cut off a body part or two to fool their enemies. But she and Vincent certainly weren't among them, and she grew desperate to think the only help they'd assumed they could count on might reject them because he suspected they were. She got off the chair and knelt in front of the desk, clasping her hands together in supplication. Even though she was in fact being sincere, she hoped her acting experience would help her convey it. "Please believe us, our friend is in grave danger and without aid, we don't have a hope of saving him. I don't know what we have to do to convince you we aren't spies for your enemies, but I'll do whatever takes."
After a tense pause, Talben said, "Be at ease. You need not do anything, for I believe you."
She and Vincent let out a shared sigh of relief. "Then, do you know if the Paladins brought Eli here?" Vincent asked.
"I had heard of a group of them going through the city. They claimed the young prisoner with them was a criminal, of course, but if that's not the case... I understand of course the benefit of enforcers who can stealthily eliminate dangerous figures the law could not otherwise reach, but too often have the Paladins 'disappeared' people there was no reason to believe a threat. If you are among the rare few willing to stand up to them, then I will help you as I can and hope to expose them enough to bring about change at last."
The term "rare few" made Sam clench her jaw nervously. The vast majority of people who had friends or even kin taken by the Paladins didn't dare go to the authorities let alone try to get them back, for fear of being disappeared themselves. Most local authorities wouldn't bother to do anything if they got a complaint about the Paladins either. She and Vincent might not be so strong, but she supposed they possessed some degree of boldness above the norm, and shared that with Drea and the commandant.
"Are they still in the city?" Vincent asked. "What aid can you give us?"
Before he could answer, they heard a door slam. "Lady Cordy is back early!" boomed a syrupy yet loud female voice from below. Rapid footsteps ascended the stairs.
"My daughter's returned," Talben said. Sam and Vincent stared at each other. So did that mean he wasn't...
The door flew open. In it stood a blonde girl with a halberd on her back, a few inches shorter than Drea but well built and perhaps heavier, wearing a perfect replica of the damaged breastplate they had seen over a short dress. She looked maybe one or two years older than Drea, but sounded much younger when she spoke. "Daddy, I'm home! Wait, who are these kids?"
"Say, do you have more than one daughter?" Sam asked Talben before he could respond.
"No, only the one. If you're wondering, this is indeed my pride and joy—the slayer of daimon generals and hero of the anjeli-daimon war, Lady Cordelia 'Cordy' Talben of the Guardian Knights."
"Not sisters then," Vincent muttered, keeping his voice low.
"Rivals?" Sam suggested.
Talben stood to hug his daughter. Afterwards, he told her, "This is Sam and Vincent, whose friend has been taken by the Paladins. They hope to win him back."
"And I assume you want to help them?" Cordy crossed her arms as she gazed towards the pair. "I have no love lost for the Paladins of course, nor do the rest of my order. But Daddy can be overly hasty in his zeal to oppose them at times. If you aren't qualified to stand against them, we'll hardly be helping you by encouraging you to go to your deaths." That actually made a healthy amount of sense. Cordy drew her halberd and held it before her. "So, you should fight me to prove your quality!" That, maybe not so much.
"I'd guess you're on a level far above ours," Vincent said.
"And? I don't need you to beat me. Just to show if you have it."
"And what exactly is 'it?'" Sam asked.
"You know, like, potential."
If they did have potential, it would be rather hard to demonstrate being as battered and exhausted as they were. "Look at us. Do we really appear in any condition to show... anything?"
Cordy scratched her chin. "Hmm, well... how about I only wield my halberd with one arm, and left handed? Meet me in the lobby if that sounds fair." She stepped out.
"Can't you do anything about this?" Vincent demanded of her father.
"She does have a point. If you can't handle yourselves in battle, it would be morally unacceptable of us to send you to your deaths."
"But..."
Sam shook her head. "It seems like we'll have to do this. You're less beat up, so you might need to pick up my slack."
They followed Cordy to the lobby, but didn't see her there. Then they heard her voice say from above, "Here I come!" and looked up to see her jump on the banister and slide down. She must have hidden somewhere upstairs until they went down. Nearing the bottom, she flung herself off it, doing a flip to land loudly on her armored boots. "Lady Cordy has arrived!" She drew her halberd, and Sam and Vincent did the same with their weapons.
"Are we going one at a time or both at once?" Vincent asked.
She raised the polearm, one-handed as promised, and gave it a twirl. It seemed light as a feather in her grasp. "Both is more than acceptable. I gather you aren't very skilled."
That was... candid. "So if you lose," Sam asked, "what does that say about your skill?"
"That it was two on one. But, I doubt I will. I'm looking forward to an easy fight for a change."
That this was the third person in a day to treat her and Vincent as being less than worthy of respect made Sam's nostrils flare. "Why, because of our age? You're not exactly that old yourself, miss! We're going to make you eat your arrogance!" She dashed at Cordy.
"Sam, wait up!"
She swung her axe rapidly, felt growing frustration as Cordy deflected each blow with a grin. She tried a lunging chop and the knight sidestepped, tripping her so she went sprawling on her belly. Vincent attacked from the side. Cordy batted his mace off course without even looking, spun towards him and whipped a boot into his middle. Launched from his feet with a gasp, he lay there hugging himself. Sam got up and rushed Cordy again. Their weapons clashed and locked together, their faces coming close—Cordy's grin widened. She looped her free arm under one of Sam's and threw her, her heart skipping a beat as she flew through the air. She landed excruciatingly on her hurt shoulder, felt hot pain as the joint shifted out of place.
"No fair," she said between moans, "you said you were going to use one arm!"
"I said I was going to use my halberd with one arm, not that I would forgo using any other limbs at all. Anyway forget potential, you two seem to have an utter lack of experience and can't even make a decent effort at fighting as a team. It would be way too negligent to support you fighting the Paladins."
"But we have to save Eli," Vincent begged.
Sam wouldn't give up. She couldn't fail again, not when doing so would likely mean doom for their quest and their friend. She tried to wrench her dislocated shoulder back in place, but couldn't muster the strength to do it with her other hand and only made it hurt worse. Eyeing a nearby pillar, she ran into it shoulder-first and heard the joint crunch into its proper position. But she was in such pain, when she tried to lift her arm she found herself unable. Tears ran from her eyes. With one hand to wield her axe, she'd come off even more pathetic than she already had...
Wait. The nuts. Still facing away from Cordy and Vincent, she reached into her pouch. She pulled one out, tossed it in her mouth, chewed quickly and swallowed before turning back around. A coolness spread through her body as she might have predicted, numbing her hurts most relevantly her shoulder, but there was another effect. She felt... taller? No, that wasn't it. She felt bigger—no. It was more like her body had become more full, as if another presence now occupied it with her.
I am with you, she imagined a voice say in her head, or maybe she didn't imagine it.
She thought back at it, Who are you? No answer. But clear as day she felt the alien presence superimpose its senses onto hers, enhancing them, making her see the world like never before. Her vision seemed more acute, the threads on Cordy's dress standing out to her even from this distance, and her hearing too as she detected a maid's breathing while she watched from behind a door. Her and Vincent really stank, she realized, and Cordy's subtle perfume hit her like a hammer. The minute grooves on her axe's handle pressed against her skin like giant knobs. She licked her lips. Her sweat tasted like a teaspoon of salt on her tongue.
"I'm not done," Sam said, feeling the farthest thing from it. She was alive like she'd never been, supercharged with vigor. She tested her injured arm, not that she needed to. It moved easily, no pain in it or anywhere else. The axe flashed up and down in her hand with magnificent quickness and control. She had her share of training and knowledge, she thought. She just hadn't honed her reflexes enough to make good use of it before. But now, everything changed.
A name came to her mind. Drugamor. A god from another world, to whom the nut had opened a conduit.
Is that what you are called? she asked.
Its lack of answer seemed like a yes to her. You wish to have power. Then give yourself to me.
I need all the power I can get. I offer myself to you, if it will help my friends.
"Sam?" Vincent asked.
She realized she must have been standing there with a vacant expression while her conversation with her otherworldly patron took place. Even Cordy looked confused. "I'm ready for another round," she said.
"Are you sure?" Instead of replying to the knight with words, Sam answered with a charge. Cordy parried her first two slashes, blocked a third and jumped back. Her eyes widened. "You've gotten much better!"
Sam hacked away at her guard, darting left and right between strikes to probe for opportune angles. She perceived everything in slow motion compared to before, so it was absurdly easy to attack swiftly and plan her next move at once. Seeing the older girl grit her teeth as her forehead glistened with sweat, she sensed she would get through Cordy's defense soon. It was almost unfair that such a skilled and seasoned warrior would have to fall to a rookie like hersel-
Cordy caught her axe under the head with the halberd and jerked it up, leaving her body exposed. Her fist zoomed forward, sinking into Sam's solar plexus.
As she was lifted up on her toes, Cordy's elbow came around and clipped her temple. Sam stumbled to a crouch, shrugged it off like the nothing it was and stood up. But the halberd's blade already touched her neck.
"So this is your true skill," Cordy said with a smile. "You might've been a game underdog to me when I was the age you are now." Sam's heart grew heavy with disappointment, unable to believe she had been defeated and so abruptly at that. "But that's quite good, so you'll do."
Sam stared at Cordy after she removed the blade from under her chin. Even though she'd lost, she still felt so energized and vastly heightened in her perceptions. Like an eldritch god, or at least the vessel of one. "You mean you and your father will help?"
She nodded. "Your friend there could use a lot of work, but you're pretty impressive. I guess you were just weakened by your wounds, and needed to push past them."
Thank you, Lord Drugamor.
#
After the battle, they returned to the commandant's office to discuss their plans. "What help can you give us?" Vincent asked.
Talben frowned. "I wish I could offer more, but since they have already left the city, what I can do is limited. I'll provide whatever supplies you need within reason, but the rescue itself will be left to you."
"But just the two of us..." Sam agreed with Vincent's glum tone. Even with the power of Drugamor aiding her, she didn't like the prospect of them going against the Paladins alone at all.
Cordy tapped her foot on the floor. "I'll go with you."
"Daughter, are you certain? If we intervene directly outside the city and are not successful in exposing the Paladins' wrongdoing, our family's reputation will be in danger, to say nothing of the risks to yourself."
"But if I don't go with them, what chance do they have? It wouldn't sit right with you to let them go to their deaths, would it?"
Talben looked down. "It would not, and neither do I think we could keep them from going after their friend outside of injustly coercive methods. All right, Cordelia—if this is your decision, I stand by it."
