Not the Stuff of Heroes
The party gathered at a table downstairs at the Laughing Dragon Tavern in preparation for their next quest. They had not been together for long and would not have been a team at all, except that the original party in the town had traveled onwards to another city and the mayor of Sandpoint needed heroes still. They’d made short work of some goblins in town earlier that week, so the sheriff had high hopes for them.
Sydney arrived last, grinning from ear to ear about his latest ‘conquest’ and smoothing back his ridiculous platinum hair. Milton noted her ‘ample’ nature as she walked away, but the paladin merely considered this ‘more of her to love’. The wizard wisely made no mention of his recent experience with a woman of his own, which ended rather disastrously.
Meanwhile, Delora counted among her recently-gathered berries (collected in the wholly-ignored presence of Sydney, much to the paladin’s chagrin) while Calideon occasionally snatched those berries from her to toss at the tavern’s increasingly irate locals. The druid swatted at him each time he did so.
While the party consumed their food (with Calideon hungrily downing his share and glancing hopefully at his comrades’
an altercation occurred at the bar. A brawny man of some fifty winters stood angrily over a young woman, perhaps his daughter, arguing with her. At one point it appeared the confrontation might descend into violence.
That was too much for Sydney. He rose. “We must intervene! A woman should not be abused thusly.”
Delora grabbed his arm. “It is not our place.”
Milton and Calideon exchanged curious glances.
“But…” the paladin gasped, staring aghast at the scene. “But she is a maiden and that is no fit way to treat her!”
“She can handle herself. It’s not your business to get involved.”
Glancing back at his companions and realizing that none of them supported this endeavor, the paladin sighed and dropped back onto his chair. One hand cradling his chin, Sydney watched the scene play out, with the man eventually abandoning his sobbing daughter.
He no longer held back now, rushing over to her and consoling her as best as he could.
The rest of the party also saw no reason to stay away now either and offered their support, as well. The young woman told them her name was Ameiko and she was grateful for their kindness. Afterwards, she left the tavern and the sheriff, Belor, entered not long after.
“I have another job for you,” he said. “You are to investigate the Barrett family home to find out whatever became of Alergast Barrett. I’ll explain as we walk. Come along.”
As Sydney, Delora, and Calideon followed the sheriff, Milton asked about the payment but found that he was soon speaking to empty air. Didn’t the others think it prudent to discuss payment terms before agreeing to this venture? Grumbling, he hurried along after them.
The trek across town was quick and uneventful. This was in stark contrast from last week when the town was filled with bodies and goblins. And bodies of goblins, of course, after the party engaged them. That day, Sydney had found himself the target of orange pulp and cream pies when Milton’s spell went awry. After that bit of bloody (and sweet) business was tended to, the party enjoyed a round of boar-hunting in which the paladin found his affections for the druid in competition with another of the locals. They rounded up Calideon shortly after and bedded down at the tavern.
Once they arrived the Barrett family home, the four took stock of the situation.
House Barrett didn’t appear to be a house of horrors Sydney mused, as they approached the two-story home. The garden outside was neatly trimmed and the house exterior was in good repair. Still, the view of the distraught noblewoman, Amele and her children outside, refusing to return to their home…this told a vivid story of the horrors inside.
“How much are we getting again?” Milton asked as he adjusted his manacle.
“You know you could maintain the garden by…” Delora ventured but Calideon interrupted her. “Who cares about that – where’s the food?” His youthful face belied his cheeky grin.
Meanwhile, Amele passed her infant daughter to her son and then threw herself against Sydney, entreating him to save her husband. The paladin burned scarlet to the crown of his hair, wondering if she could tell that was not his sword.
The sheriff said to the group, “Well, you seem to have things well in hand. I’ll check in on you later.” With that, he returned to the garrison.
Pulling away from the paladin (who breathed a sigh of relief), Amele led the party inside. Delora, her druid’s hat tipping over her dark eyes, puttered about, commenting on the ways in which they could infinitely improve the state of the kitchen. She was followed by Calideon who checked in the cabinets for anything that would pass for food.
“So, where is your husband again?” asked Milton. “Has he been in the bedroom all this time? And you haven’t looked in? Not once?”
Sydney rounded on the wizard. “Be courteous to the fair maiden.” To said ‘fair maiden’, he bowed and uttered, “Fear not, we shall scour the room and return him safely to you!”
“Thank you,” she said graciously, face white as freshly-fallen snow. “He was last seen in the children’s bedroom. I will take the kids outside while you deal with the matter. Please find my husband.” Taking the hand of her young son and hefting her daughter with the other, Amele took her kids back outside.
The party approached the bedroom, Sydney in the lead, sword in hand. He gestured with his free hand for the rest of them to stand back while he pushed the door open. Delora looked put out by his presumption, but conceded the need. Meanwhile, Milton was more than willing to let the chain-mailed armored (and platemail-brained) paladin to precede them.
Inside, the party gaped at the image they beheld.
The husband lay crumpled on the floor of the closet, his face half-eaten. A goblin, stinking and gruesome, sat upon his chest, going to town on the man’s skin there. A few feet away a dead dog lay next to him, its blood staining the hardwood floor.
“Be slain, abomination!” Sydney screamed as he charged, completely surrendering any possibility of a sneak attack. His first stroke missed the goblin entirely, who had darted back. His second stroke sheared the creature’s left pauldron off cleanly. The goblin retaliated, slashing at the paladin in desperation. His attack hit the mark, but Sydney’s chain mail protected him.
While the paladin was engaged with the goblin, Milton spun his hands in circles. A blue light surrounded him, settling on his body, courtesy of his Resistance spell. Calideon aimed for the creature’s head with his staff, scoring a hit but doing little damage. Then, like wisps of white dragonflies, a mist descended over both the group and the goblin.
“What manner of demon’s magic is this?” roared Sydney. “By the goddess of light, I’m blind!”
“It’s a spell,” Delora explained. “It’ll level the playing field. He can’t see us, either.”
Calideon chuckled. “She’s right. At this rate, he’s getting in more hits than us!”
“You’re such a little shit…” Milton began, but the paladin interrupted him.
“The creature is slain!”
As the mist dissipated, Sydney stood over the goblin. His blade impaled the goblin which, after he kicked it in the chest, the creature slipped off. He grinned through the grime on his overly-pretty face. That smile ghosted away as he glanced at the husband’s body.
Delora poked the body with her staff. “He doesn’t look too good.”
“Really,” Calideon smirked, “I think he’s fine.”
“Oh, dog pelt!” said Milton, rushing over to the fallen canine. He rummaged through his pockets and pouches until he came upon the item he sought – his knife. Ignoring the disturbed looks on his companion’s faces, he quickly went to task skinning the dog.
Sydney dropped to his knees next to the husband’s body. “We…hath failed! My comrades-in-arms, we hath failed!"
“I’m pretty sure he was dead when we got here,” the druid muttered.
“Nah? You think?” Calideon said as he ducked the woman’s staff.
Completely oblivious to their comments, the paladin tossed his sword aside and clasped his hands together. If only he was strong enough to cast a healing spell! If only they’d arrived a few minutes sooner! If only they’d slain the goblin in time! His mind swirled in agony and Sydney started to whisper a prayer for the dead.
A tentative knock came upon the door. “You’ve been in there a while. How is my husband? Did you find him? Is he okay?”
Wizard to sorcerer, druid to paladin, they all glanced at each other in discomfort. No one had the courage to speak…no one but Calideon.
“Uh, yeah, he’s fine. He’s just resting. We’re cleaning up the room right now.”
Sydney choked.
“He’s…alright? My husband is alive and well?” Amele sounded doubtful.
“Yeah…sure. We’re…taking care of him. Why don’t you…go make us some food? Make me a sandwich.”
Sydney threw Calideon a murderous glare. The boy shrugged.
“Oh, okay… I’ll go do that.” They heard the sound of her footfalls retreating from the door.
The paladin didn’t know how he was going to explain it to her. After the sorcerer blatantly lied about her husband’s ‘resting’, his paladin’s code screamed injustice in his head until Sydney could not stand it any longer. Staring down the sorcerer until he shrugged again, the paladin rushed out of the room to find the woman.
The wife gaped at him and he thought she might faint. Rushing up to her, Sydney braced the woman against the kitchen wall with one hand and snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. She quickly came to and, seeing herself in such an uncompromising position, promptly pushed him back.
“What is going on here!? Where is my husband?”
Falling to his knees in supplication, Sydney stammered, tears in his eyes, “My lady, I have the most unenviable task of telling you of the most horrible fate to have befallen your dear hus—“
“He’s dead!” came a call from the bedroom.
Sydney had forgotten all about the druid in the bedroom. Although she took upon herself to ramble randomly throughout their ‘quest’, the paladin often didn’t notice her presence. One might say this is because nothing came between him and all the lovely maidens he came upon, but Sydney would disagree. In fact, Sydney found the druid herself rather enticing but had rapidly come to the conclusion that she was, sadly, immune to his charms.
“What did you do to my husband?!” the wife screamed. Hauling her skirts up, she ran towards the bedroom.
Realizing she would see a rather damning, if misleading, situation, Sydney hurled himself at her. “No, my lady, do not open that door!”
Inside the room, Milton was busily skinning the dog. The wizard supposed he could fetch a pretty copper for this pelt as whomever the dog belonged to had taken pains to keep it in good health.
The sorcerer hung around patiently watching Milton work, a slight smile upturning his mouth, possibly due to the flurry of action he’d heard in the kitchen. Paladins sat on a high horse and hearing Sydney scampering about and blabbing embarrassingly did wonders for his mood. He was, after all, hungry and that woman had still not brought him the sandwich he’d asked for.
The door to the bedroom swung open, and, upon seeing her husband sprawled on the floor, face chewed off, the wife promptly collapsed.
“I think we’re going to have some explaining to do,” the druid said, poking the wife with her staff.
Milton glanced up briefly, tutted, and then returned to his work. “Fainted maiden, Sydney. You’re up.”
Sydney frowned helplessly at both the incorrigible situation and the stirring of his blood. He supposed it was not very knightly to find her current state arousing and reminded himself that a few whippings were probably appropriate for his lack of decency.
Kneeling, the paladin gathered the woman in his arms. “She is…overwrought. She must rest.”
Delora bent over the husband. “What about him?”
“And the kids?” Calideon added. “And my sandwich?”
Sydney had forgotten about the children. The father was dead; the son must now claim his birthright as the master of the house. And it was Sydney’s job to inform him of it…or so the paladin thought. It didn’t occur to him that the boy couldn’t possibly, at such an age, even know what was going on, explained to him or not.
“Will you stop with your belly-aching?” Milton demanded. “I’m done now so I can take the woman to her bedroom.” He happily stuffed the dog pelt into his knack sack, ignoring the blood dripping out through the leather. “Come on, you little shit,” the wizard said to Calideon. “Let’s put her to bed before Sydney forgets his holy vows.”
Now it was the paladin’s turn to blush an ugly crimson. “I would not…” he protested as he passed the woman over to Milton. “I would never…”
The two mages half-dragged, half-lifted the woman’s limp body to the master bedroom while the druid and the paladin headed to the kitchen. There were the children, the young son cradling his baby sister. The former looked about ready to cry and didn’t protest when Delora gently took his sister away.
Sydney pulled the boy aside and genuflected. “Though you are yet young and not familiar with the ways of this cold and cruel word, it has fallen upon you to take up your father’s place as the head of the house. I regret that we have failed in protecting him. Your mother and sister need you to be strong now—“
“Where’s daddy? Where’s mommy?”
Rocking the sister, Delora said, “I don’t think he understands a word that you’re saying.”
“He’s a man.”
“He’s eight.”
“I was a man at that age.”
Delora tilted her head. “That explains a lot.”
“What does that mean…?” Before Sydney could continue, Calideon and Milton returned from the master bedroom. The former immediately went about looking for food again, wondering how a kitchen this big could not have a single loaf of bread or a wheel of cheese.
“They have a huge chest of gold in their bedroom,” Milton said. “With that much coin, you’d think they could afford a better party than us.”
Rising to his feet after patting the son on his tawny head of hair, the paladin fixed his gaze on the wizard. “You will not touch that chest.”
“I think you need to worry more about yourself touching chests.”
Sydney frowned. “I’m afraid I do not take your meaning, comrade-in-arms.”
“What are we doing about the goblin?” Delora cut in. “We cannot leave him there.”
“Why not?” Calideon asked. “He makes a nice addition to the room.” Anticipating her reaction, the sorcerer dodged when the druid swatted at him with her one free hand.
Sydney sighed. “And the husband must be buried with all honors due him.” Mulling it over briefly, the paladin said, “Milton, can you dispose of the goblin’s body discreetly?”
Milton smiled. “I can do anything discreetly.”
“I…don’t even want to know. Calideon, can you watch over the kids? Delora and I will have to take the husband’s body out for a burial.”
The druid gave the daughter to Calideon. “Shouldn’t we have him buried in a church ceremony or something?”
Sydney choked. “Do you want him re-risen as a zombie or, goddess forbid, a skeleton?” The paladin shuddered, remembering the last time he’d been in the unfortunate presence of skeletons. He promised himself he would never think back on that day in the tomb, covered in cold, bony hands.
While Sydney and Delora hauled the husband’s body out of the bedroom and the house, Calideon finally found a loaf of bread and some fruit and fed himself and the kids. Milton mysteriously disappeared with the goblin’s body in the basement.
Outside, the paladin said, “Watch over the body. I will dig a hole.” He set to work with his sword.
The druid rambled on, “I still don’t think Amele will like it…” but Sydney took no heed of her. Tears streaming his face, the paladin cut into the earth, uttering all manner of apologies to the wife, the children, and the gods themselves.
Once he finished, they placed the body into the shallow hole, covering it with the garden dirt and a hefty dose of its freshly-grown flowers.
“We should say a few words,” Delora pipped in.
Stumbling back to his knees, Sydney proceeded to whisper, “Our beloved goddess who, in your gracious love and wisdom, has seen fit to take this brave young man to your side…please guard him and guide him and watch over his family."
The druid nodded, thinking it over-much, but decided not to question the distraught paladin. “Okay, back to the house then. We got to find out what to do with the children and the wife.”
But Sydney had not finished. “You, in your bountiful wisdom, have seen fit to grant this young man a life of meaning and purpose and so we entreat you, in our humility, to do so for him again in his after-life as a servant of your great goodness.”
“Sydney?”
“And in doing so, do not forgot his precious son and daughter. Help guide the son into maturity that he might take his rightful place of master of the home to protect his sister and beloved mother…”
“Sydney!” She resisted the urge to slap him upside the head.
As if awoken from a dream, the paladin started. “Beg pardon, comrade-in-arms?”
“Do we really want to leave Calideon and Milton alone with the family?”
Sydney sighed.
Calideon was busily emptying the house of its food with the help of the kids while Milton, after disposing of the goblin, took mental note of the fortune of the family. They had, after all, done all they could…how could they not be entitled to some monetary compensation for their hard work? He would consider the dog pelt partial payment, of course.
As the paladin and the druid returned to the house, Milton mentioned that the wife appeared to be stirring. Sydney nodded gravely and instructed the wizard to follow him to the bedroom while Calideon stuffed his face (and the children’s) and the druid watched over them all.
“We need a way to make Amele more…make her warm up to us,” Milton whispered as they entered the bedroom.
Sydney ran a hand through his too-pretty hair. “I know not what we may do. Good as our intentions were, this was not exactly a rescue.”
To his discomfort, the wizard said, “I have an idea.”
“What are you…?”
But Milton ignored the paladin, his fingers darting about. A soft yellow light encircled his hands.
Sydney gasped, his eyes growing wide. “No, you mustn’t--!”
“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.” The wizard continued his casting, directing the energies towards Amele who was groggily awakening.
In an agonizing moment of indecision, Sydney watched as the young woman came to and stared at them in confusion. The paladin’s gaze shifted to Milton and then his resolve to never attack his own comrades broke. The paladin let out a howl and tackled the wizard to the ground, interrupting the spell. The light vanished.
Milton shoved the paladin off him. If Amele wasn’t under the effects of Charm Person, she would be in an even less agreeable temperament towards them. Damn paladins and their rigid code-of-honor!
“What are you doing to me?!” the wife shrieked.
Rushing to the woman’s side, Sydney stumbled over his feet as he stumbled over his words. “My fair lady…we…we simply…we thought…”
“We were trying to heal you,” Milton said. A rather ingenious answer if he thought so himself.
Sydney glanced sharply over at the wizard who simply shrugged.
“Where are my kids?! And my…husband…” The color drained out of her face as the image re-painted itself before her eyes.
“My fair maiden, we, we, we…” Words failed Sydney. Knowing nothing else to do, the paladin extended his arms, thinking some physical touch might console the woman.
It had a decidedly unfortunate affect. “Don’t touch me!” Amele cried. “My children…” Without a further word, the woman ran out of the room. Milton and Sydney were hot on her heels.
Calideon had the young boy engaged in a game of hide-and-seek while the druid chattered to the infant daughter in her arms. To the horrified Amele, already imagining the worst, it appeared that they were making off with her kids. Shrieking again, she tore the baby girl out of Delora’s hands and summoned her son to her side. In a flash, they were out of the house.
“Well, that’s hardly appreciative,” Calideon said.
The druid gazed after the woman. “I think we might be in trouble.”
“No, really?” Again, the sorcerer had to dodge another strike.
“What now?” Milton asked, thinking the woman might go straight to the sheriff, telling him a twisted, if vaguely accurate, recount of their ‘rescue’.
Meanwhile, something inside Sydney broke. He’d never done so horribly, terribly, repentantly, badly at any quest ever before in his entire life…and that included having to fight his way out of a ring of over-eager skeletons.
As the three watched him, the paladin fell to his knees and wept heartily and nosily.
“I don’t see how that’s going to help,” Delora said. Sydney ignored her.
Calideon asked, “Well, what do we do now?”
“Get out of here, that’s what,” Milton said. “I could really use a drink.”
The paladin had still not gotten to his feet; instead, he muttered all sorts of prayers and apologies to the goddess of light, entreating her to forgive him and all manner of nonsense as far as the team were concerned.
“We just going to leave him here?” the sorcerer asked after a chuckle.
When the druid poked his bracer with her staff, he didn’t even appear to register the action, continuing his onslaught of misery and begging. To Calideon, she said, “You really want to be here when the guards show up?”
“Sure, sounds like a party!”
After the druid and sorcerer exchanged stares (Calideon’s amused; Delora’s irritated), Milton led them back down the streets towards the Laughing Dragon Tavern. He held no illusions that returning to the tavern would suddenly absolve them of their ‘crimes’ (since they didn’t intend to do anything illegal…per say) but at least they’d have one more good meal before being consigned to the gallows. Calideon wouldn’t protest that, at least.
Meanwhile, Sydney finally finished his litany of supplications. Wiping his eyes, the paladin stood and forced himself to exit the house and start his trek towards the church. The only possible way, in his mind, to atone for his ‘sins’ involved a hefty amount of self-whippings.
Once he passed the holy threshold, the paladin didn’t even address the flabbergasted monks on his way to the altar. Kissing the wood and then uttering a prayer, the paladin made his way down the catacombs of the church to a secret room seldom used anymore. In fact, it was never used anymore except for by Sydney who found its series of leather whips exactly what he was looking for.
Back at the tavern, a waitress approached the rest of the party, taking their drink orders. Seeing their bloodied clothing and disheveled appearance, she asked how things were going.
“Not great,” Milton mumbled. His sole consolation was the dog-pelt. Of course, his chances of hawking it for a good deal were looking pretty slim, as the wizard could already hear the sounds of the guards crossing the distance to them.
“I say we take on new identities and make for the nearest town,” the druid was rambling. “If they follow us there, we should head for the hills and scratch a living off the mountain. My food-gathering skills should help us out…and while out there, we can build a shelter near a river…Once they forget about the whole incident, we can return to civilization…I’m guessing in a few years...If that don’t work… “
Calideon hurriedly wolfed down his meal as if it was the last thing he would eat, which, considering the quick approach of the guards, appeared might be so.
“This is a sad day in Sandpoint,” Belor said, his words as heavy as his heart. “Amele told me what you’ve done.”
“I plead innocent!” Calideon shouted.
“We haven’t even told you of the charges.”
“Whatever it is, you can be assured I’m not guilty!”
Turning to the guards, Belor grimly said, “Take them.”
“Now hold on a minute there,” Milton said, standing up, “It’s not what it looks like…” It was at that unfortunate moment that the dog pelt slipped out of his knack-sack, displaying its gruesome contents to the entire company of guards and the sheriff. “Oh.”
The six guards wasted no time in apprehending the three, half-dragging, half-leading them out of the tavern to force them to take the walk of shame to the garrison. Fortunately for the party, the rumors had not entirely circulated town yet and only a few beggars jeered and spat at them.
Arriving at the garrison, Belor had the guards march them straight to his private quarters and then had the door blocked with another set of guards. Here, the sheriff started his round of questioning, but was quickly interrupted by the team noting that one of their number appeared to be missing.
“That is right,” Belor mused, stroking his chin. “But why would you rat out your friend?”
“What are friends for?” returned Calideon.
Belor sighed and turned to one of the guards. “Find the paladin.”
Said paladin continued lashing his bare back with an assortment of cat o’ nine tails and when that didn’t make him feel sufficiently punished, he proceeded to find a hot poker. The thought of exactly where he was to put it both confounded and terrified Sydney, however; he returned the instrument back to its dusty container immediately.
Satisfied by his ‘atonement’ – for now – Sydney supposed it was time to suit up again, locate his friends, and decide how they were going to make this up to Amele. Clearly, they had not behaved in the manner befitting a party whose sole purpose was to protect the town and its inhabitants. And while he had his doubts about the three he was assigned to work with, the paladin assumed they had his (and the town’s) best interests at heart.
The paladin left the catacombs to find that the monks were all aflutter talking about the party’s apparent arrest. Shocked, the paladin rushed to the garrison to turn himself in, completely unaware that the three had already given him up.
Upon arriving at the garrison, the paladin shocked the guards there by surrendering himself. Sydney was then either taken to the room the party was held in or walked there of his own free will, considering who was asked. He cast his gaze about the room and, locating his ‘comrades-in-arms’, swiftly stood in front of them before the sheriff could finish his request that he do so.
Belor nodded at another guard and a door was opened, admitting Amele.
The woman shook badly and kept her gaze trained on the sheriff. He smiled at her sympathetically and encouraged her to go ahead.
“Having heard tales of their work with the goblins in the town…” she faltered, then continued, “…having heard of that, I arranged for them to find my missing husband. They were in there a long time, so I went inside to find them. When I came to the bedroom, one of them told me my husband was fine and that I should go make them some food.”
Sydney glared at Calideon.
“And then he,” she pointed at the paladin, “…came out and was rambling on about something when someone else yelled that my husband was…” Amele broke down.
“Dead, yes,” the druid supplied. “We all know that.” Why was she laboring the point, the druid thought. Everyone already knew that.
Belor frowned at the druid. “Go on, Amele.”
“When I opened the door to the bedroom, he was…he was…dead!” she wailed. “And that one,” Amele gestured to Delora, “…stood over his body while that one..,” now she gestured to Milton, “…he was…he was…skinning my dog, Petal!”
“It had a name?” Milton asked, bewildered.
“Enough!” yelled the sheriff. “You will have your chance to speak, after.”
Shuddering, still the woman went on. “I fainted. When I awoke, the wizard…that one…”Again, her hands indicated Milton. “He was casting some kind of spell on me!”
Now the party turned their annoyed glances at the wizard. Milton pursued his lips embarrassingly.
“I found my children and ran out of there as fast as I could. Then I came to you.”
Nodding, the sheriff helped her to a chair. She slumped into it, burying her face in her hands.
Belor demanded, “What have you to say for yourselves?”
Before the others could speak, Sydney raised a hand. “My lord, as we are in good standing with the town and this is our first offense, may we have a moment to discuss privately amongst ourselves how we will form our defense?”
“You have two minutes.”
The four huddled.
“What are we to do?” Milton asked. “We can’t exactly tell them everything that happened.”
Sydney gritted his teeth. “Lying is what got us into this mess in the first place.”
“It’s not lying that got us into trouble,” amended Calideon. “It was that some of us were lying and some of us were telling the truth.”
Now Delora, who was previously, and thoughtfully, silent, pipped in, “Let me tell them our story. I think I can reduce our risk of facing jail time or worse without resorting to pain-stacking truth but not really lying either.”
“Yeah and I definitely don’t want the paladin talking…he’ll screw us over because he won’t gloss over any details.” Calideon earned a frown from Sydney for that but Milton was in complete agreement.
Glancing from the two mages back to the druid, Sydney let out a sigh. He knew he was easily out-voted as their representative and, besides, he could never quite deny the request of any woman. With a hand raised again, he both conceded his consent and alerted Belor that they were ready to start their defense.
At first, it appeared that Delora’s defense seemed to sway both Amele and the sheriff. She recounted their good, if somewhat selfish, intentions, and that they had not, in any way, contributed to the death of Alergast.
However, her defense did not speak glowingly of the two mages as they had expected. Sydney was not entirely spared, either, as she mentioned him burying the body amid excessive references to his goddess.
“Why would you bury my husband without me?” Amele asked, distraught.
Sydney responded without hesitation. “To protect you. To protect your children. To protect the town.”
“From what?”
“His being re-risen as a zombie…or a skeleton.” Even now, the paladin could feel their bony hands upon him.
Since the paladin appeared entirely sincere in his fears, Belor let that drop.
“I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Everyone in the room turned to stare sharply at Calideon, who had spoken.
“I didn’t see any body, nor had anything to do with any goblin, or saw any food…”
Belor held up his hand. “Enough. I think I shall get no truths from you four, so I must simply have the scene of the crime examined.” Leaning over Amele, he said, “Is there any among these that you believe at all?”
Amele swallowed and said, “The druid, I suppose.”
Delora smiled and nodded.
“And what of me?” Sydney demanded, his paladin patience breaking. “My lady, did you forget how I came to you to tell you gently of your husband’s demise? Or of how I prevented my companion here from spell-casting you?”
“Yes, yes, that’s true…but you should have not buried him without me…”
Sydney bowed his head. “My first thought was of your safety, but I regret that we could not do him the honor of your presence at his funeral.”
“You might get a second chance, any ways,” Calideon said. “Since determining the cause of death can only be done by unearthing the body.”
“No…” the paladin gasped.
“The little shit is right.” This was Milton, who privately wondered if anyone would confiscate the bleeding dog pelt. No one had thought to do so, so far.
“Why thank you,” Calideon said.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Belor lifted a hand. “Enough. Sydney and Delora will accompany me back to the house while the rest of you lot remain here. I would see for myself whether you speak truth or lies.”
“Why can’t it be both?” the sorcerer asked, but everyone ignored him.
After the sheriff sent Amele away in the care of Father Zantus, the local head of the clergy, and had a half dozen of his guards stand watch over the two mages, he took Sydney and Delora with him on the walk to the Barrett family house. Since Hemlock didn’t trust either paladin or druid at this stage, he also had three guards accompany them. They were also necessary to keep the growing crowds from interfering in the process.
Delora chattered on as if anyone was paying attention while Sydney looked remorse. The incident upset him so deeply that he hadn’t the heart to flirt with the female guard of the group.
When they arrived at the scene, the druid pointed out Alergast’s grave all neatly tucked in the garden bed.
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Belor indicated for his guards to dig the body up. To a man (and woman) they balked.
“It’s unnatural.”
“It’s an offense to the gods!”
“That’s just gruesome.”
Turning to the paladin, he said, “You’re the one on trial here, so you need to evacuate him.”
Sydney blanched. “But zombies…and skeletons…the undead…” The image of a bony hand reaching out for him floated in his head.
“The guards shouldn’t have to do and Delora can’t do it and you damn well know I won’t do it…So get to it.”
Delora tapped her hat. “You are the one who put him in the ground.”
Flashing the druid a look of irritation, still the paladin dropped to his knees and went to work. All the while he dug through the earth Sydney kept an eye on the mound, carefully monitoring for any signs of life…or un-life, as it were. If the worst should happen, he supposed the six of them could overcome a single zombie or skeleton.
After an inordinate of time elapsed, amid several sobs escaping Sydney’s lips, the body was unearthed and the group had a look at it.
“What manner of weapon slew him?” Belor asked as he examined the gash across the husband’s torso.
“Not ours, I can tell you that,” Delora answered, but, much to her annoyance, they ignored her.
Hemlock addressed one of the guards, “When we apprehended the group, did they have any weapons that could inflict this sort of wound? Were they carrying a rapier…perhaps taken from one of the goblins from last week’s raid upon the town?”
Sydney drew in a sharp breath. He fiercely hoped that none of his comrades-in-arms had thought to claim any of the weapons the goblin carried. It had not occurred to him to do so, especially considering the shabby nature of said weapons, but he knew that Milton was quite the pack-rack.
“No, my lord. Their weapons were standard issue – not the kind taken from a goblin.”
Sydney sighed in audible relief.
“We told you that,” came Delora’s rejoinder. “We all could have been spared this if you had believed us from the start. Now you can let us all go.”
“Not so fast. You still have among you those who have lied to me, skinned the family dog, and attempted to spell-cast a person without their consent.” Belor nodded to the guards. “I suppose you will be content enough to re-bury the body?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Once that bit of business was over, the six of them trekked back to the garrison. Again, the guards were forced to keep gawking townsfolk away and shield the paladin and the druid from rotten vegetables and moldy bread. The behavior infuriated Sydney, who felt their shift from appreciation to condemnation was quick and that he’d had quite enough orange peels in his hair this week as it was.
Back at the garrison, Sydney and Delora were reunited with the mages and Belor announced that he had exonerated the group of the charge of murder. Then, he resumed his questioning.
“Sydney, as a paladin, I trust you to speak honestly…” Belor said. “…even if such were to incriminate those in your group.”
Sydney inclined his head. “My lord, my honor is more precious to me than my life.”
All three threw the paladin looks of annoyance, but he steadfastly kept his gaze on the sheriff. Delora guessed he might view some of the group’s more extraordinary behaviors as less than benign…as if his own actions were above reproach! Calideon merely shrugged and smiled while Milton wondered if, now that the most grievous charge against them had been dropped, would he be able to sell the dog pelt?
Belor gave Sydney a long, hard stare. “Do you believe the spell Milton cast upon Amele was intended to be of aid to her?”
Without looking at the wizard, Sydney responded, “My lord, I know not what to tell you. I know he mentioned wanting to make her more receptive to us and since I didn’t know the nature of the magic he was using, I stopped him. I could not tell you what he intended to cast.”
“I see. Fair enough.” Belor turned his gaze now upon Milton. “Tell me, mage…what had you planned to cast on Amele…and why? Speak truthfully; I will know if you are lying.”
Milton squirmed. It relieved him that Sydney didn’t know he was casting Charm Person even though the paladin had tackled him to the ground at the time. Still, the sheriff seemed significantly more intelligent than Sydney and might see through any deception on his part. Clearly, he couldn’t say exactly what he’d been on about—there was no way that wouldn’t be viewed in the harshest light—but outright denying the spellcasting was pointless since Sydney spoiled that thoroughly enough.
“I…cast…Cure Light Wounds on her.”
“Cure Light Wounds?” Belor didn’t even feign believing it. “And why would you do that?”
Milton’s eyes darted around the room. “Ah…she…she fainted! And…she appeared in some…distress. I thought she might be injured.”
“Could he cast such a spell?” This question was directed at Sydney.
Milton stared Sydney down with a straight face. “I could not say, my lord. I simply do not know,” the paladin said with a sigh. Something about the way the wizard carried himself didn’t speak well for Milton’s honesty and the mage didn’t inspire trust normally, any ways.
Seeing the mage’s winning smile, Belor said, “Well then, I guess we shall have to see. Cast it now, mage.”
“Uh, what?”
“Right now. Cast Cure Light Wounds on me.”
Calideon snorted and Delora shook her head.
“I am rather tired…”
“Now, while my mood is still fair.”
Coughing, Milton spun his hands around as his thoughts spun in his head. Now how was he to escape this jam? He supposed it might have been easier to fess up, but he was in too deep now. The wizard kept swirling his fingers in the air, stalling for time.
“Mage?”
“Uh, Cure Light Wounds!” A teal light settled on the sheriff, outlining him briefly. Then it vanished.
Belor looked himself up and down, peering at the slight blue sheen upon his armor. “I feel…different. Was that it? Did he cast it?” His gaze swept the room, locking gazes with each of the guards in turn. They all offered up various shrugs and frowns of confusion and ignorance. Not one of them could cast any spell, let alone this particular one.
Sydney had no answer for him, either. “The gracious goddess has not yet seen fit to gift me with the power of spells, my lord.”
Having stayed silent far longer than she was used to, the druid pipped up, “Well, then, since you don’t know, then you can’t assume either way. Maybe he did; maybe he didn’t. Make your call. And if you can’t, can you at least let the rest of us go?”
“I…” the sherrif hesitated, stroking his beard. “I suppose we shall have to take you at your word, then, wizard and…”
“That didn’t look like a Cure Light Wounds spell to me!”
An uncomfortable silence descended over the room more thickening than the miasma of Delora’s mist spell. All eyes turned to Calideon, the one who’d spoken. He’d finally been a given a stage upon which to speak and yet, having secured such, was not sure what he wanted to say. He simply thought it prudent to point it out and, were he to admit such to himself, the sorcerer simply delighted in seeing Milton’s face deepening to an ugly shade of purple.
“You little shit!” Milton had to restrain himself else he’d fling himself at Calideon.
“Enough!” Belor shouted. Then he let out a ragged, exhausted sigh. “You two shall remain in custody to be further examined by Father Zantus.” He waved at the paladin and the druid. “You may leave.”
“About time,” Delora said as she and Sydney exited the garrison. They decided to return to the tavern and await the outcome of Father Zantus’s review. Sydney thought he might give self-whippings a-go again, but figured if the sheriff didn’t view him as deserving punishment, then perhaps it wasn’t necessary. The paladin certainly didn’t want to try the hot poker that was for sure.
As the two retreated to the tavern, Calideon and Milton were led down to the cells.
Fortunately, they were kept in good repair. Considering that they might resort to collusion (though evidence was to the contrary), Hemlock had them separated in their cells and set a guard to watch over both of them. He told them that they would stay the night and Father Zantus would see them in the morn.
Much to his disappointment, they had finally thought to take the dog pelt from Milton. Like a dog that’d lost his bone, the wizard stared forlornly as Belor packed it up and walked away with it. Milton slumped to the floor and drifted off to sleep. Seeing little else to do to entertain him, Calideon elected to do the same.
Sydney slept outside as Delora spurned his advances once again (or was she even aware of it?) and the night elapsed without further incident.
In the morning, Father Zantus made his way down to the cells. It grieved him to see his former heroes fallen so low. The paladin was already earning quite a reputation around town with the maidens and Delora wasn’t endearing herself to some people either, though Zantus wasn’t sure why the latter was so. And here were the two mages, imprisoned for their lack of basic human honesty.
“What am I to do with you?” he asked, to himself and to them.
“Release us?” Calideon said hopefully as he darted to his feet.
Milton rolled his eyes as he, too, rose. “Look, you know we’ve done good in this town, so why can’t we just let this go? We meant well….we just…I don’t know, it all got messed up somehow.”
Zantus paced back and forth. “You can’t cast Cure Light Wounds, can you?”
Milton glanced down at his feet. “Yeah, I can’t cast Cure Light Wounds.”
“And that dog pelt belongs to the family. You should not have skinned it without permission.”
“I didn’t know they would…” the mage swallowed his retort when the cleric fixed his steely gaze upon him. “I didn’t realize they would be upset. I can…give…it…” The very thought of handing over what could be a very lucrative dog pelt, even if it wasn’t really his, nearly choked the breath out of the wizard.
“No matter; they don’t want it back. But the money you receive from it will need to be donated to the church.”
“Yes, Father Zantus,” the wizard agreed miserably.
“And you must give up your greedy ways. Attend church each week. We shall speak privately about you abandoning the vice of monetary gain.”
Milton wisely decided not to tell the cleric that they would sooner see Sydney become a monk before that would ever happen.
Now the cleric addressed Calideon. “I fear your offense is more serious. You lied repeatedly to the sheriff about your involvement in this whole affair. There are enough witnesses to testify to your presence during this—“
“I’ll testify!” Milton offered.
“…and, as such, I cannot let it pass without appropriate repercussions.”
Calideon’s lip hung unhappily. “Hey, I did tell him the truth about Milton’s spell!”
Ignoring that statement, Zantus went on. “You are yet so young and I fear that you are on a dark path. In order to pull you from such, I shall have you enter the service of the town to learn responsibility and maturity. You will undergo training with the town’s watch and learn how it is to carry yourself as a man of the watch.”
Calideon had stopped listening past the third word. He just grinned helplessly and said, “Uh, sure!”
“I shall go to the sheriff and ask that he let you go. I expect to see you both at the church within the hour…You understand me?” Zantus feared neither would stick to their promises for more than a fortnight, but figured he should at least try to rehabilitate the two for however long he had.
“Yes!”
“Yes, Father Zantus.”
After the cleric made his report to Belor, the sheriff had them released and their items returned to them. Milton wondered if there was a way to get around having to donate the coin he earned from the dog pelt to the church—or perhaps he could understate what he got and thus donate less? Meanwhile, Calideon was already sniffing around for food, for even he declined the gruel that was offered to him in the morning.
They met up with Sydney and Delora at the church. The paladin had already genuflected and was uttering all manner of supplications to the gods. Delora was eager to be gone from the place. For her part, all this excessive begging and sobbing seemed extreme and not conducive to anything productive whatsoever. As far as the paladin was concerned, however, they all could do with some serious appealing to the gods for their blemished souls.
Spotting them, Father Zantus made a bee-line for the group. “I see you have honored your word to appear in the church,” he said, addressing the two mages. “For that, I am grateful.”
Sydney rose. “Where is the fair Lady Amele, Father Zantus? I need to propose marriage to her, post-haste.”
The cleric’s eyes bulged. “Marriage…but why? I don’t think she would…”
Pulling his closed fist over his heart, the paladin said solemnly. “I hath failed in protecting her husband and so the duty to provide for her and her family has fallen upon me.” He then added, most seriously, “And of course, she would accept. I mean, it’s me.”
Delora rolled her eyes.
Father Zantus thought fast. “Uh, I’m sure she would swoon at the thought but, ah, she’s…at her sister’s. And it’s entirely too early for her to remarry, I’m sure you understand.”
Sydney inclined his head. “Of course. May you please convey to her my best wishes, along with this pouch of gold.” He passed the cleric a hefty pouch. After a few words of instructions, Father Zantus sent the pouch off with a monk.
“He never conveys to me any best wishes, gold or otherwise,” grumbled Milton.
The words of the mage reminded Sydney of his presence. “Is there any specific penance for them?” he asked, earning him glares from Milton and Calideon.
“The boy shall enter the town’s service.” Father Zantus then glanced up and down Milton. “Milton, on the other hand, shall attend church regularly and conquer his obsession with material things.”
The paladin frowned. “Does that seem like enough for Milton? He is older than Calideon, after all, and involved in more of the mess than the boy.”
Milton stared open-mouthed at Sydney’s throwing him under the carriage, but Father Zantus hummed in agreement. “Shall you consult the gods and see what is a suitable further punishment for him? I shall need to take the boy to the garrison to have him prepared.”
Finally, Calideon, who was snooping around, spoke. “Wait, what? I’m going where? You’re not actually serious, are you?”
Reaching his arm around the sorcerer’s shoulders, the cleric said, “Gravely serious, I’m afraid. I fear for your immortal soul…don’t you?”
“Not really.”
“Come along, now, we don’t want to keep Belor waiting, now do we?” said the cleric as they left.
This now left Milton at the paladin’s mercy. “Let us pray, mage, and ask the gods how you should be punished.” He led the most unwilling Milton down the hall towards a private alcove reserved exactly for that purpose.
Delora, meanwhile, looked around, having realized that they had all but forgotten her. Muttering about the drama of these foolish folk, the druid made her way back the tavern, hoping that she would, along the way, find some more berries.
When Milton and Sydney arrived at their destination, the paladin immediately dropped to his knees. He clasped his hands and then looked up entreatingly at Milton.
With a sigh, the mage knelt next to Sydney. The paladin smiled at him. “Now, you must pray to the gods and ask them what they feel a fitting punishment is for you.”
An idea flashed in Milton’s mind. “Wait, I get to ask the gods what they feel should happen to me?”
“Yes. They will probably demand that you donate to the church or flay yourself.”
Milton wasn’t sure which he liked less.
Closing his eyes, the paladin whispered, “Dear gods, we beg that you shower us with your holy light and guide us in this time of confusion and despair. What shall we do for atonement of our grievous sins?”
His eyes darting this way and that, the mage added, “Yeah, what shall we do, gods?” After waiting for a few minutes as the paladin appeared to descend into a trance, Milton coughed. Sydney opened his eyes and gazed quizzically at him.
“They said I don’t need to do, either.”
“What?” Sydney’s mind was reeling. This was most extraordinary. “Which god told you that?”
“All of them. All of them,” Milton blabbered. He could see the paladin staring at him hard, but kept his gaze steady. No telling what Sydney might do if he thought his gods were being toyed with or whatever.
The paladin came to his feet. “Then it must be so.”
Smirking, Milton also rose. “Shall we get back to the tavern, then?”
“We shall.”
Back at said tavern, Calideon hurried over to the table Delora sat at. At the garrison, he’d given Zantus the slip. Of course, the cleric would probably hunt him down, but, for now, he was a free man. He happily devoured the meal brought before him and a few of the druid’s berries, besides.
“Now what trouble are you getting us into?” Delora demanded, snatching back some berries.
Calideon grinned around a mouthful of berries. “Probably the whole damn town is after us now.”
“So we do need an escape plan…well, we might not live well in the mountains…but do you think we could get away with hiding in the next town?”
It was at this point that Milton and Sydney arrived. The former immediately plopped down next to Delora and Calideon and rummaged through his pack for the pelt while the latter examined the room, looking for his next conquest.
“So now what? We’ve wrecked our reputation in this town…should we head for the hills or try our luck in the next town?” the druid asked as she eyed her possessions. “If we hide in the mountains, I think we need more supplies. Mine are running low.”
Calideon chuckled.
Delora glowered at the mage. “And just what is that about?”
Calideon opened his mouth to display his newly-acquired berries.
Before the druid could whack Calideon on the head, Sydney intervened. This resulted in mild damage to the paladin, who looked quite distressed. Delora mumbled an apology, but kept an evil eye on the sorcerer, who kept the paladin near at hand.
“So, what do we do now?” Milton asked. He wasn’t keen on the idea of skipping town, but he also didn’t think they were popular in Sandpoint anymore.
Running a hand through his too-pretty hair, the paladin was about to answer when Belor entered the tavern with an elven woman in tow. Naturally, Sydney lost his concentration and completely forgot the question, focusing solely on the woman. To his delight, they headed straight for him and the party while Milton hurried to stuff the dog-pelt into his pack.
“It appears that you are still valued here,” Belor said when they reached the party. “…since there are still some who seek out your service.”
“We are only too glad to be of service to….” The paladin purposefully left the sentence unfinished.
“Shalulu.”
“Shalulu…” Sydney murmured, entranced. “I like the feel of that name on my tongue.”
Milton jumped to his feet and stood in front of the paladin. “We’ll take the job.”
“I haven’t even told you what it is,” she said.
“No matter; we’ll take it.”
“Not even interested in what we’ll be paid?” Calideon asked with a chuckle. The two mages engaged in a staring match until Delora cut in.
“Am I to take it that we won’t be leaving town, after all?”
The sheriff appeared nonplussed. “Why ever would you be doing that? We have another quest for you.”
“After all that?” the druid asked.
Sydney cleared his throat. “My lady Shalulu, allow me to accompany you to the garrison, where we shall wine and dine and speak of this most important quest for yours.”
Shalulu shrugged the paladin’s arm off her shoulders, and then nodded to the sheriff. “It is important – we must rescue someone who is…dear to me…her name is Ameiko.”
“Now where have I heard that name before…Oh, the girl!” Sydney gasped. “Of course, we’ll help you.” His eyes brightened. Placing his hand on Shalulu’s arm, the paladin guided her out of the tavern, the sheriff in tow.
Once the three had left, Delora, Calideon, and Milton exchanged glances.
“You think he realizes how fond Shalulu is of Ameiko?” the druid asked.
Milton shook his head. “No, and let’s not tell him. Where a woman goes, Sydney is not far behind.”
“And where money goes, you’re not far away, either.” Calideon chuckled.
“Even if we take this quest, I still think we should consider our escape plan…no telling what might happen next. Always good to have a getaway plan,” Delora said seriously as the three of them also quit the tavern.
The party made their way for the garrison, hoping this quest would be more successful than the last. Milton counted his coins; Delora counted her berries; Calideon counted how much time before someone noticed him missing from the watch; and Sydney counted how many days before he could lure the lovely Shalulu to his bed.
And so everything was exactly as it is should be…except for heroism and all that. But whoever said you needed heroes?
Nor Keveh. 
