Knight Errant Scene II

“I can not believe you spent personal leave to come bring me bad news,” Father Pryce said with a chuckle.

“It’s really nothing,” Sam said, pushing his trunk into the corner of the Happfield Chapel’s extra room. It was an exhausting trek taking his armor, but Brother Nathan would only approve his departure if he remained battle ready. “With my parents up on East Rest, I don’t need my leave to visit family.”

“Still, I feel bad that the tidings could not have been better. Let me make some lunch and we can discuss the details, Sam.” Father Pryce led Sam to the chapel’s excuse for a kitchen and Sam learned the depth of the church’s failure to inform Pryce of anything.

Father Pryce had not learned of Matthew’s attack on The Throne, or that the Halcyon band was the weapon used. Nor had he been informed that immediately after the attack, it was decided the Halcyon band would not be returned to Happfield Chapel. Sam and Kaitlyn, and even Shiner, had prevented many deaths that day, but they were unable to completely stop Matthew’s attack. And they were unable to stop the church from taking away Father Pryce’s purpose.

“It’s a shame,” he said slowly as he looked over the bowl of soup he had thrown together for his guest. The clarity of the broth and fatty tissue on the meat underlined the idea that the church had not been providing for their far flung treasure room. Only the vegetables in the dish were significant, but now that Gretta was on a trip to Talnorel’s Grove, they too, would soon wither. “And stupid, to boot. To keep the band and the armor in the same place is asking for the exact same thing to happen again.”

“You think it will?”

“I know, Sam. Matthew and the girl were not alone in that crypt. They had a god with them.”

“How? This is Gessel’s sacrosanct.”

“The avatar was formed and entered with them. It was a deity called the King’s Shade. A Gavundari god and master of illusion and dreams. His worshipped titles include Dreamweaver, and the Lord of Dreams. And Master of Nightmares is a derogatory title.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I could have told the council that this god was helping them,” Sam urged.

Pryce sighed. “You and I both know, Samson, that the council would not have treated this any differently had Gessel himself walked in here, His Will be Well. This certainly is not the Church I grew up in.”

There was a long silence, and finally, Sam cleared his throat. “There’s actually another thing I came here to do, Father. Something related.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Father,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. “The short time I spent with you and Gretta was actually very formative for me. I remember you telling me that I should remember why I became a paladin. Why I gave up my name. And remember the sacrifices made by those who did the same before me.”

“I said all that?” Father Pryce asked, looking surprised.

Sam laughed. “Well, Gretta was there, too.”

“We are very wise,” Pryce said, nodding. “Sorry, please continue.”

“I have been thinking about why I joined. I wanted to be a shield for people. And that chance was taken from me. So I tried to become a fighter for the Will. And was punished for it. And when I finally did something good for the church, I’m scoffed at.” Sam hung his head. “Father, I’m exhausted. There is no satisfying the Church and there is no satisfying myself. So I’ve come with these.” Sam reached into his pants pocket and removed a set of documents folded into a neat rectangle.

“Samson.”

“They’re my crypt entry requests. To go beneath the Abbey and retrieve my name.”

“Samson.”

“I’m having trouble finding a reason to raise my shield for someone who won’t raise a finger for me. So I was hoping you would approve my request.”

Pryce was silent. He did not look at Sam, only at the stained glass window over the chapel’s door. Finally, he answered. “I will not.”

“But Father, I have been wounded and robbed since I joined the Church. I am not strong enough for this.”

“Enough.” The priest’s response was harsh. More harsh than anything Sam thought Father Pryce could have been capable of. “You look at an old, crumbling man who fought a god’s avatar not one month ago and call yourself weak? You are a quarter of my age and four times my mass, boy. And that tangle of scars on you means your skin is much thicker than mine.”

Sam was taken aback, and Pryce noticed. “I’m sorry for my blunt words, Samson,” the priest continued. “But you must hear them. The Church is not Gessel. And the Will of the Council is not His. Far from it. That much should be clear to you now. The moment I met you, Sam, I knew what your issue in this organization would be. You are too hard headed to be a paladin.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are your colleagues treated as unfairly as you feel you are?”

Sam thought hard about Shiner sneaking off and playing pranks but never being reprimanded. Grim, brute forcing his way through every task, breaking many of the things he touched, but still being vaulted by the Mission despite never being promoted. “Only one,” he said finally. “Sister Maribel. She is often punished for speaking her mind and acting against the interests of the Mission.”

“Is she the one that went with you into the burning restaurant?”

“She was.”

“Confirmation, Sam,” Pryce nodded. “The two of you are woven of the same threads. The world is full of people like me and Brother Nathan, you know? Who take orders without question and do as we’re told. And we do well to keep the machine running. But who makes that machine better? People like you and this Sister Maribel.”

“What am I going to do to make the machine better?” Sam asked. “And why should I even bother? Is it just going to work to destroy me whenever I try?”

“I don’t know. But I love this organization with all of my heart, Samson. And I know a good member when I see one, you can be sure of that much. I am glad to see you in your armor. And I was confident knowing you were in this sanctuary giving it your all when we were attacked.

“The Church may not understand the value in you as a person, but I am certain that everyone who has interacted with you does. What would your colleagues think if you simply never came back to the mission because you reclaimed your name? What would Sister Maribel think?”

Sam actually gave thought to this one. “She would probably call me a coward.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Harsh words,” Father Pryce said with a solemn nod. “Are they true?”

“They might be,” Sam said softly.

“I do not know if I would call it cowardly. Selfish, surely. But cowardly may be going a bit too far. I understand your frustration and pain, Sam, I truly do. But you have been an official paladin for less than a year. There are men and women who have had the title longer, done less with it, and have had experiences much better and much worse.

“You are not participating in this struggle alone. I believe I told you during your last visit as well, that everyone suffers. It is inescapable. If you go down and get your name out of that crypt, some other demon will shuffle from the darkness to torture you.”

“Father, I just think I’m in over my head.”

Father Pryce laughed heartily. “You say to a man who, again, fought a god in his basement in front of one of the world’s most prized magical treasures. You are not alone Sam! You may be special and you may be talented, but you are not alone in that either. I can see that you have put a lot of thought into wanting to leave the Church, so I will just say this bluntly. I will not be signing your request. I can not, in good conscience, sign your request. Your skills, your personality, are all too valuable to us to let you leave. There are, I’m sure, a hundred lesser priests than me that will scrawl their name all over that document if you were to ask them, just to feel high on getting rid of someone who was not a ‘true believer.’ But I know you, Sam. And I know you came to me for a reason. Did you really think I would sign this?”

Sam swallowed. This had hurt a little more than he had expected, but it was cathartic still. “No, Father. But what should I do?”

The priest leaned over the table. “The day you left with Kaitlyn, I knew where you would excel, Samson. Have you heard of an Errant License?”

“I have not.”

“They have not been given to a paladin in ages. I can barely remember the last one I had heard about. But I think you’d be the perfect candidate, Samson. With an Errant License, you would be free from a base assignment, permitted to travel and work as you saw fit so long as what you did furthered the virtues and good name of the Church of the Will.”

Sam was awestruck. That sounded perfect. “But what makes you think I would be able to pull something like that off?”

“Easy,” Father Pryce said with a smile. “You’ll have my approval. I had the documents in order already. I was just about to mail them to you for your signature and submission when you just happened to come knocking. I was hoping it could be more of a surprise, but you seem like you could use some inspiration right now.”

“Father, that’s brilliant. What will I have to do?”

“Nothing once I submit the documents to the Church. It goes up to the council. They will review your record and performance and make a decision. And my input goes further than anything they will get from the Abbey or Brother Nathan.”

“What if it is declined?”

“We submit again. Hardheadedness is key in the Church of the Will, right?”

Sam chuckled. “Right. Father, thank you. Your wisdom and blunt words are just what I needed. Well worth the trip out here.”

“Well if I saved your career, then it was worth my temper, I think. Sam, the church needs people like you. Humans are trouble. Corrupt and morally ambiguous. We need someone with a strong heart and a sense of right and wrong to keep things on track. You will meet resistance to your deeds. That is sure. It will never stop. But know that you fight for something greater when you fight for what is right. Greater than the Church and Gessel combined.”

“Thank you father,” Sam said with a nod.

“You’re a good kid,” Father Pryce said with a laugh. “Now, excuse me. I’m going to go start a fire, though. It has gotten chilly, don’t you think?”

Only two short hours later saw Father Pryce and Samson Bleedingheart sitting immediately beside the fireplace in the rectory of the chapel. The chill had become intense. Worse than anything Sam had experienced during his time there in the winter months.

“Such bad weather,” Father Pryce said as he shivered. Sam was becoming concerned for the old man’s health.

“Father, I have my cloak in my trunk. I’m going to go get it for you, alright?”

“Thank you Sam.”

Sam barely opened the door connecting the rectory to the chapel when there was a loud crash. A fog blew into the room, and Sam peered into it before realising he was standing in the midst of a blizzard.

“What is happening?” Father Pryce cried from beside the fire.

“Church of the Will!” boomed a woman’s voice. “I have descended from the Frozen Wastes to demand atonement for the sins you have committed against my people!”

In a bout of surprisingly youthful energy, Father Pryce was on his feet and pushing past Sam out into the swirling blizzard in the sanctuary.

“Do not cross my threshold goddess!” he responded. Sam was dumbstruck. Another god attacking Happfield?

“This priest knows my station! Does he know my name?” the voice challenged.

“I suppose you would be Petra Ymirstottir, Daughter of Winter.”

As though he had spoken magic words the blizzard calmed. The snow drifted to the floor where it instantly began to melt, and the chill began to abate. Sam rushed to Father Pryce’s side, and was stunned by the muscle-bound woman in the doorway.

She could not have been much older than him, her youthful face was pale and her hair was snow white. Her muscular, but still petite frame was magnified by leather and hide armor, and her lethality was communicated by the hatchets in her hands.

“You suppose right, Father,” she responded.

“Father Pryce, please. And this is my bodyguard, Corporal Bleedingheart.”

“The Church is led by an old man and a little boy?” Petra asked after taking a long look at the two.

“There is a misunderstanding,” Sam responded. “We are not the leaders of the Church of the Will.”

“This is a church, is it not?”

“It is,” Father Pryce answered. “Please, come inside and we can discuss what is troubling you and your father.”

Petra stared at them suspiciously, then shuffled a foot forward to test her ability to enter Gessel’s territory. She finally had her invitation, and so magical forces did not shred her earthly body. Confused, and slightly ashamed, she returned the hatchets to their holsters and approached Sam and Father Pryce.

After being invited to some tea with the two, Petra was questioned. The three sat around Father Pryce’s small dining table, a hot kettle between them all. She explained in as few words as possible that slavers had taken Bridgefort, but that the fortress was abandoned by the Church of the Will.

“It was that abandoning of their post that exposed my people to the horrors of the slavers,” Petra accused.

“And so you seek an audience with the Church’s leaders?” Father Pryce asked. “It’s respectable of you to come in person to do that on behalf of your people.”

“They have suffered enough,” Petra explained. “I’ve spent months leading them from their home, fighting the wilderness to stay alive. The least I could offer them is rest while I fight their battles in the courts of this Church.”

“I can’t imagine they would abandon Bridgefort without reason,” Sam mused. “Daughter of Winter, was there any indication of struggle?”

“Judging by how picked clean everything was, it looked like they struggled with what to steal as they left.”

Sam bristled at the remark but Father Pryce merely giggled.

“Paladins of the Will are more honorable than to depart their post like you accuse, Daughter of Winter. I do not mean to disrespect you, but I question your conclusion.”

“Aye,” Petra said, slapping an open hand on Father Pryce’s rickety table. “You’re right, I was so weary and weak from fighting the whole damned Wastes that it was all just a big misunderstanding, huh?”

“As I said,” Sam replied. “I mean no disrespect. Only that there must be something more going on than just abandonment.”

“Mighty insightful, paladin,” Petra scoffed. “Walk all the way down for that, I did. I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. Glad I stumbled on you to illuminate things.”

“Now, now,” Father Pryce intervened as the tempers began to rise. “Daughter of Winter, you must know that we are as shocked to hear this news as you were to discover it. By all accounts of our experience, what you are describing is more or less unheard of. But just by saying this, I do not doubt your claims. You are right, there is something worth investigating going on.”

“I see,” Petra said, cooling.

“Samson does not doubt you, either,” Pryce said, casually introducing Sam’s first name, to Sam’s chagrin. “We are curious.”

“Well, I apologize, Samson,” Petra nodded. “My heart aches for my tribe, that's all.”

“Apology accepted. I understand your pain, and sincerely hope that it was not the Church of the Will which caused your pain.”

There was a beat of awkwardness after their genuine, but slightly out of character remarks, when Father Pryce lit up. “I have a thought, you two. Sam, that paperwork I have prepared for you. It must be presented to the High Council. Why not take it yourself. You can go with the goddess here and help her get an audience with the High Council to have her questions answered.”

“You can truly get to see the leaders of your Church?” Petra asked Sam.

“I uh,” Sam was off balance from the sudden suggestion. “I mean, I’m not sure. I have to go back to my workplace eventually.”

“Nonsense, Samson,” Father Pryce said with a wave. “You’ll be side by side with Petra Ymirstottir. Brother Nathan can be left waiting for a while.”

Sam looked from the frosty visage of the goddess of ice to the warm goading eyes of Father Pryce. Once again backed into a corner, Sam would be taking another woman much more powerful and important than himself to a showdown in The Throne. Hopefully there would be fewer deaths this time around.