1. Alistair #2
“Harmonite,” Liliana corrected testily. “The lords and ladies of the lowlands might refer to their baubles as song crystals, but I prefer the technical term. As you well know.”
“My mistake,” Erys said, sounding not the least bit contrite.
Alistair couldn’t tell if the mage enjoyed stirring the pot or was simply in a perpetual good mood.
“As you can see, she does a fine job, with a good eye for detail. Brother Kelvin represents the Church of Light and ensures we remain steady on the path to righteousness.”
Kelvin barely inclined his head. “A pleasure, Sir Knight. I welcome you in the Light.”
Alistair tried not to squirm beneath Kelvin’s stern-faced scrutiny.
Though the Order was technically the militant arm of the Church, members of the two organizations rarely interacted except when required to by duty.
Alistair preferred it that way. Priests like Kelvin always made him uneasy, their ardent faith threatening to highlight his own lack thereof.
Alistair believed in the Light’s power—how could he not when dawnflame flowed through his veins?
But the holy Light directing them for some divine purpose?
The Dawn Aspects and other Celestials watching over them from the Immortal Realm?
Those tenets of Church doctrine left him far less certain.
He’d need to step carefully around Kelvin—even a lesser priest from a backwater town like this could cause trouble for him within the Order.
“Blessings of the Light to you as well,” Alistair replied, performing a full bow that seemed to ease some of Kelvin’s tension.
Erys glanced between them, his brow raised. “No doubt it’s good to see another friendly face. Last but not least, we have Master Maxwell there in the center, mayor of our fine town.”
“And have been for thirty years,” Maxwell said proudly, puffing out his chest. “It’s a great honor, and one I don’t take lightly.
” He fixed Erys with a frown. “Which was why I instructed Erys to beseech the Order’s assistance.
With the snows sealing the pass and our plight only growing more dire, I didn’t know where else to turn. ”
“There is no need for justification,” Alistair said. “It is the duty of every Knight to serve where they are needed, no matter how small the cause. Thus has it been in Khordan for a thousand years, and thus shall it remain for a thousand more.”
Liliana looked ready to protest again, but Erys cut in before she could.
“We appreciate your dedication, Sir Alistair. Still, we should explain what prompted our call for aid. It all started about a month ago. There were only rumors then—figures lurking in the night or glimpsed through the early snows. When our supplies began to go missing, we didn’t think much of it at first. Even in a close-knit village like ours, it’s not uncommon for the less fortunate to…
borrow what they lack in firewood or food. ”
“We are a successful town, but a small one nonetheless,” Maxwell interjected, his tone defensive.
Ignoring Kelvin’s sniff of distaste, he narrowed his eyes at Alistair as if daring him to argue.
“Our harmonite may sell for a lord’s ransom, but the land up here’s not good for much else, and shipping supplies from the lowlands costs a fortune. ”
“Especially with the Empire’s ever more exorbitant tariffs to fund the Church’s burgeoning list of priorities,” Liliana said, directing her own glare at Alistair.
Alistair couldn’t care less about small-town economics or Church politics. Before he could find a polite way to say as much, however, Brother Kelvin stepped in.
“Alas, such sacrifices are necessary for the good of the realm. The Church stands as our last bastion against both Infernal wickedness and the chaos of the Void.” He gestured at Alistair. “Why, without the Order’s Knights, who would we have to solve our current woes?”
Alistair shifted uncomfortably even as he tried to maintain an impassive air of authority.
Merciful Light, how had his father always made this look so easy?
“Thank you for your kind words, Brother Kelvin. I shall endeavor to live up to them. Can you tell me anything more about these figures spotted in the night?”
Kelvin’s face contorted with disgust. “Undead abominations, twisted by duskflame sorcery.”
Maxwell nodded, dabbing at his brow with a small handkerchief. “When supplies continued to vanish, we posted guards on our main warehouse. It was they who first spied the foul creatures—shambling skeletons reanimated by dark magic.”
Now they were getting somewhere. Alistair rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. “How many? Were your men able to slay any?”
An incredulous chuckle escaped Maxwell’s lips.
“My good Knight, our militia is such in name only. They’re equipped to handle the occasional drunken dispute, not defend against the living dead!
As for the monsters’ numbers, I can’t say for certain, though the guards claim they encountered an entire horde of them. ”
Alistair responded with a stiff nod. The mayor was right, of course—ordinary men shouldn’t have to face such fiends.
Still, it meant he wouldn’t be able to rely on much support.
He’d just have to hope he could handle the undead on his own.
If he had to request reinforcements on his first mission, his detractors would seize the opportunity to brand him as incompetent.
As he considered Maxwell’s words, one detail stood out to him. “You say these undead have been stealing supplies?”
“Aye,” Maxwell confirmed. “Food, firewood, blankets—even some spare furniture.”