Bonus Chapter
Alistair
Alistair knelt on the cold chapel floor, his head bowed in prayer. It still often felt weird to him to dress in his priest robes rather than the armor of a paladin that he’d worn for so much of his adult life and had aspired to for even longer.
But even if the accouterments of his new position didn’t quite seem to fit yet, the position itself certainly did. He was at peace here in Singer’s Rest in a way he’d never been back in Qori.
Here, he’d found a group of people who accepted and cherished him, not just as a paladin, but as part of their community. Here, he’d found friends, forged himself a new family that wasn’t of blood. Here, he’d found Iggie.
Finishing a general prayer to the Light, he moved on to the Celestials, stepping through the five Dawn Virtues in quick succession.
Hope in the new life he and Iggie were building together. In the future he’d never have imagined for himself but was so, so grateful to have achieved.
Humility to never forget his past mistakes and failings. To always look past his prejudices and give others the fair chance they deserved without judgment.
Sacrifice for those he cared for and for those who cared for him. For the community who depended on him. For the man he loved.
Serenity to accept the peace and happiness he’d been so blessed to receive. To take the time to appreciate all the good in his life.
And finally, Justice. He lingered on that one the longest, as he usually did. Many Knights of the Order revered Justice above the other Virtues, and even though he’d hung up his armor and sword, Alistair was no exception.
Darius, Aspect of Justice, he prayed. Please give me the strength to do what is right, now and into the coming year. Let me forever walk in your footsteps and protect those who cannot protect themselves.
He sat back and raised his head, smiling faintly to himself.
It was odd. He’d spent so many years growing up wary of the Church of Light, knowing that he wanted to become a paladin like his father so he could help others, but uncertain of the religion that so often felt like it was being shoved down his throat.
Yet up here, in this small mountain village of all places, he’d finally discovered his faith, his own way of communing with the Celestials.
Sometimes he wondered if the Church would condemn him of heresy if they heard the sort of sermons he led. But if the townsfolk took issue with his way of doing things, they hid it well. By all accounts, they seemed as content with him in his new position as he was himself.
That, more than anything, assured him that he was on the right path.
He rose and set about tidying the nave in preparation for tomorrow’s service.
It was still a few weeks before Dawncoming, but the church tended to attract more visitors as the winter snows set in.
Alistair suspected it was more out of boredom than renewed faith, but either way, he needed to be ready.
He was just finishing up scrubbing the grime from the floor left over from melted snow when he heard the doors to the chapel swing open. A glance at the nearest window revealed the light outside beginning to fade.
It could be a parishioner come to offer prayers or seek advice from Alistair.
The doors of his church were always open for those seeking the Celestials’ blessing.
This late, however, and with how cold the nights were becoming, it was most likely Iggie returned from his latest bout of lessons with Erys.
Ever since Erys took him on as his new apprentice, Iggie had spent most days at the mage’s tower, learning the various tenets of formal magic that he’d never had the chance to growing up on the run.
Even though Erys’s own runeflame worked differently from Iggie’s duskflame, many of the same fundamental principles applied, and while the mage hadn’t come right out and said it, Alistair got the distinct impression that he was grooming Iggie to be his replacement some day.
That would certainly be a first: a duskflame wielder as an official mage within the Khordanite Empire. A few short years ago, such a thing would have seemed impossible to Alistair. Outrageous. Now, the thought filled him with pride.
If Alistair was happy to have found a place here, the only thing that brought him more joy was knowing that Iggie had found a place to call home as well.
Alistair moved toward the front of the church, already preparing himself to comfort Iggie through his usual bout of complaints about Erys’s esoteric teaching methods, when he froze, staring in shock at the figure standing in the vestibule.
At least as tall as Alistair, the figure wore fine armor reminiscent of an Order Knight’s. Seeing it conjured a faint pang of longing for his own discarded armor, currently hung up at home in case he ever needed it again.
Bits of snow and ice clung to the hem of the figure’s heavy hood. The figure pulled it back, revealing a hard, leathery face with keen amber eyes. If not for extra years etched into his skin and his graying hair tied back in a braid, he would have borne a striking resemblance to Alistair himself.
And why shouldn’t he? He was, after all, related to him by blood.
“Uncle,” Alistair said at last, finding his voice.
“Alistair.” The booming growl of his uncle’s voice conjured half-forgotten memories from Alistair’s childhood. “It is good to see you.” His uncle’s eyes roved over the room, and Alistair felt suddenly small, a boy again awaiting judgment. “I take it this is your church?”
Alistair nodded, resisting the impulse to apologize for the mess he hadn’t quite finished cleaning. He could only imagine how disappointing this tiny chapel must look to his uncle after the grand citadels the Church of Light maintained within the capital.
“It is.” Alistair’s fingers curled anxiously at his side, longing for the comforting weight of his sword. “Forgive me, Uncle, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here? I never received any missives warning of your arrival.”
“That’s because I didn’t send one.” His uncle strode forward to join him, and Alistair muffled a wince at the wet puddles his heavy boots left in his wake.
“I wanted to surprise you. And judging by that look on your face, I’ve succeeded.
I hope that my arrival won’t prove too much of an inconvenience. ”
“No, of course not,” Alistair said hurriedly. “It’s, uh, good to see you. It has been too long.”
“Four years.” His uncle’s brows arched in disapproval. “I had expected to see you back in the capital long before now.”
“I’m sorry for that,” Alistair said. Shame bubbled low in his gut. “But my place is here now, not with the Order.”
His uncle frowned. “I wasn’t talking about the Order. You don’t need to be a paladin to stop by for a visit.”
Alistair bowed his head. “Of course, Uncle. My apologies. It’s been…an adjustment, settling into my new position here.”
“No doubt. Well. Just know that whatever choices you make for your life, you are always welcome home.”
Alistair found himself at a loss how to reply. Instead of soothing him, his uncle’s words only served to intensify his guilt. The last time they’d seen one another, his uncle had come to wish him good luck on his first solo mission as a Knight of the Order.
That trip was supposed to have lasted no more than a few weeks until Alistair had dealt with the town’s undead infestation and returned to Qori to seek out his next assignment. Yet somehow, those few weeks had turned into a few years.
So much had changed since then. Alistair was no longer the boy that he’d once been. He saw more clearly now both the good that the Order could do as well as its many flaws.
Seeking some way to break the awkward silence that had fallen, Alistair asked, “Did you just arrive?”
His uncle nodded. “The rest of my retinue is securing our quarters at the local inn.” He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “From what I can tell, space will be tight. Thank the Light there aren’t many visitors this time of year.”
“Not with the winter snows so close now,” Alistair agreed. “How was your journey through the pass?” He winced inwardly at the banality of the conversation. It felt like their reunion should involve grander topics than the weather.
But his uncle didn’t appear to mind. “No real complaints. We had an easy enough time of it across the lowlands, and the snows haven’t come too heavily yet in the mountains. By all accounts, we should have at least a week, perhaps two, before the pass grows too treacherous to navigate.”
Alistair nodded again before lapsing once more into silence. Before he could conjure some other seemingly safe topic to discuss, the doors creaked open.
Grateful for the interruption, he turned to find Iggie striding into the nave. His heart gave a little leap at the sight of Iggie’s pale, gaunt face and wild red hair. Several of his undead trailed after him. Bits of tied-on harmonite gleamed with bright colors amid the polished bone.
Iggie started toward Alistair with an exhausted groan.
“Shadow and shade, are you a sight for sore eyes. I was half convinced that madman was going to keep me locked in his tower all night. Honestly, I swear he makes up half his lessons on the fly and fills the other half with nonsense just so he can get a chuckle out of my confusion. What does it even mean that I ‘must make the space within the space the same as the space without?’ It’s all just a bunch of Dark-cursed—”
Iggie paused, finally realizing that Alistair wasn’t alone. He narrowed his eyes at Alistair’s uncle, instantly on edge. “Who are you?”
Alistair cleared his throat. “Iggie, allow me to introduce my uncle, Lord Leopold Halion of House Halion. Uncle, this is Ignatius. My husband.”
His tongue stumbled only a little over the word husband. They’d performed the ceremony just this past spring, and the idea of the formal bond in the eyes of the Church was still new to him.