“You and your friend come to me demanding action, as if it is that simple. You’re simple people, of course, a paladin who worries only of his god and a bandit who thinks only of his vengeance. I have no god. I seek no vengeance. I must do what I think is right, not just for me, but for the people of my lands.”
“Well,” Jerico said, gesturing to the empty surroundings. “You dragged me out here to talk, so let’s talk. Help a simple man out. Either that, or let me go back to bed. I’ll kick Kaide out here to tell you a few stories.”
“Kaide bores me,” Arthur said, motioning for a servant to bring him something to eat. A young woman appeared, blonde-haired, carrying a tray of sliced fruits. Arthur took a plate, and told Jerico to take what he liked. The paladin grabbed half an apple and began absent-mindedly chewing it.
“Kaide is… he’s like a rabid dog at times,” Arthur said, eating a handful of grapes. “He’d tell me to send every soldier I had rushing the gates of my brother’s castle, to the Abyss with whether or not we’d win. He’d slit my throat in a heartbeat if it got him to Sebastian. Advice from him is pointless. I know what he wants, and what he’ll say. But you… To be honest, paladin, I haven’t a clue why you’re with him. It sounds like the makings of a very bad joke.”
“A bandit and a paladin, into a tavern they go,” Jerico said, and he laughed. “And your guess is as good as mine what the next line might be. I help because I feel I should. Kaide might be willing to go too far for what he wants, but at least his cause is just. Your brother’s actions against him… there is no excuse for murder and bloodshed done in the name of greed.”
“Greed is a tricky thing,” Arthur said. “Might not greed guide my own actions here? What if I care not for righting my family’s wrongs? What if I want power, and will use a misguided, homeless bandit to further my ends?”
“If you have that fear, Arthur, then you are most certainly not that kind of man.”
Arthur scratched at his beard.
“I forfeited my right to my father’s holdings. Honor would say I keep to what I did years ago. What Sebastian has done… it is foul, yes, but is war any better? He’s killed a few, but hundreds will die if I muster my men, and the peasant folk, to fight for me.”
He sighed and fell silent. Jerico gave him time to think, but when it seemed apparent he would not continue, he prodded him with another question.
“Why did you forfeit your right as firstborn?” he asked. “Whatever you speak stays with me, and you may refuse if you wish. I only ask so that I may help, if I can.”
Arthur tossed the rest of his grapes to the floor, and he rubbed his eyes.
“I lose more sleep over that than anything else, paladin. My father was getting old, and his mind was failing him. I pray you never endure anything similar. A cruel fate, watching a proud, intelligent man torn down piece by piece, until nothing is left but a child. There were times he was still himself, but mostly… Anyway, I talked with a servant I trusted, and procured a simple poison. It would only make him sleep for a few days, that is all, but I hoped that during that time I could take control of my birthright. But I was caught, turned in by that very same servant. My father would hear no reason, for never did he believe his mind was breaking.”
Outwardly, Arthur remained calm, as if his face were that of a statue instead of a living man. His voice kept steady. But his eyes were watering, and he made no pretence at hiding it when he wiped them.
“He went to his grave thinking I had tried to kill him, all because I didn’t want to wait the few months it would take for him to grow bedridden. The way he would look at me… so angry, so confused. He was like a child even then, a child betrayed. Father almost ordered me hanged, but Sebastian intervened. If I would only return to my private lands, and relinquish any claims to my inheritance…”
He looked to Jerico, as if surprised he’d said as much as he had.
“I lost much because I tried to take what was not yet my own. Sebastian rules. The land is not mine. Should I spill so much blood for a few farmers and outlaws?”
Jerico crossed and uncrossed his arms, trying to think through his tired, hazy mind.
“I think… I think I could use a drink,” he said.
“A sound plan.”
Arthur gestured, and the blonde serving girl returned, this time holding a tray with two cups and a steel pitcher. Jerico accepted a cup, and he squinted at the liquid the girl poured into Arthur’s.
“Do you not drink wine?” the lord asked.
“Water, please,” Jerico said, putting the cup back on the tray. The girl smiled at him, but something about her look prickled the hairs on his neck. It wasn’t that she seemed frustrated or angry. No, her face remained absolutely, perfectly controlled, if not pleasant. Like glass. Impressive for a servant girl forced awake to attend her lord halfway through the night…
“Wait,” Jerico said, grabbing Arthur’s cup with one hand, and the girl’s wrist with the other.
“I’ve change my mind,” he said. “Please, drink with me, Arthur.”
“Of course,” said the serving girl, smiling sweetly at him.
Jerico accepted his cup, and once it was poured, he lifted it to his lips. Immediately he felt the warning of Ashhur sound in his mind. He looked to the girl, who stood perfectly still, as if waiting for her dismissal.
“Arthur,” he said, lowering the cup. “Can you please tell me her name?”
“Her, why that’s… step into the starlight, girl, I can’t see you well enough without.”
As the moonlight fell upon her beautiful features, Arthur’s face hardened, and that look alone told Jerico that she was a stranger.
“Don’t run,” Jerico started to say when she pivoted, smacking him across the head with the metal tray. He rolled with the blow, desperate to remain beside Arthur. Upon hitting the ground he spun, kicking his leg out. The girl leapt, and his leg smacked against the hard stone of the bench. He screamed.
“How dare you!” Arthur roared. “Guards!”
Guards wouldn’t be there in time, Jerico knew. Her hand shot out, chopping Arthur’s throat. His cry for guards choked down, and blood dripped from his lips. The tray clattered to the ground as she drew a dagger, but Jerico would not allow it. Shield pulled free, he lunged, flinging himself in the way. The dagger clanged against it, and the assassin cried out from the pain of contact.
“Do not interfere, paladin,” the woman said, taking a step back.
Jerico readied his mace and kept his shield high. He watched her, waiting. Every muscle in her body tensed. Time was not on her side. She couldn’t dance about, nor try to misdirect. Her target was Arthur, and so long as Jerico lived, he would stand in the way.
She shifted her weight twice, twisting her extended foot in a way to feint one direction, then leap the other. Jerico nearly fell for it, but at the last moment flung his mace in the way. It struck across her shoulder, and he heard the snap of bone. Despite this, she did not scream, nor stop. A dagger in her other hand, she thrust for Arthur’s throat.
Arthur caught her wrist with both hands and wrenched her arm. As she twisted, he kicked out, snapping his heel against her knee. When she crumpled, he kicked again, this time the arm Jerico had wounded. Jerico stepped between them, again ready with his shield, but Arthur pushed him out of the way. As the assassin tried to stand, he smashed his fists into her head.
“I am no fat lord for you to stick like a pig,” he said as he kicked her stomach, blasting a cry of pain from her lips. “In my own home, you come with poison and blade? You’ll hang, woman, hang!”
She rolled over, her dagger pressed against her own throat.
“Hang a corpse, then,” she said before slicing.
Her face contorted in pain as the life left her eyes. Jerico stepped back as the guards arrived, forming a protective circle about their lord. Arthur pushed them aside, and he clapped Jerico across the back.
“I owe you my life,” he said. “Any boon, name it, and it’s yours.”
Jerico looked to the corpse, then shook his head.
“I will name no boon. Just let me return to rest. All I ask of you is that you do what you think is right concerning your brother.”
Arthur nodded, and he pointed to the dead woman’s body.
“I have lived these past years fearful of an assassin,” he said. “But never did I think Sebastian would actually do it. I always doubted. No longer. He wants my head? Then I’ll take his. He wants poison in my veins? Then I’ll bleed his out on the field of battle. Go rest, paladin, and worry no more. My decision is already made.”
Jerico glanced once more at the woman, absently wondering of her name.
