Paladin 4: Chapter 14 (Patreon)

Rescuing the Eastwood Kingdom’s princess turned out to be quite difficult. The catacombs beneath the old palace were vast, and there were dozens of different doors filled with all sorts of annoying puzzles. Darren and his three companions fiddled with the dials and the weird, unknown script for nearly fifteen minutes before Darren realized he could just punch through the door and open it from the other side. From then on, making their way through the puzzles was just a matter of figuring out what to break. That was something Darren and his companions were much better suited for. And that was assuming Morgana couldn’t just phase to the others side of the door and open things from the other side.

After searching and searching, then stumbling across some survivors and asking them for directions before searching some more, Darren and his companions finally found the person they were looking for. The woman at least ostensibly in charge of this city, Princess Clair. Now that Darren’s forces had arrived and cleared up all those undead, someone had to organize the tedious reconstruction effort because the heavens knew Darren wasn’t going to do it.

In Limedeep, he’d given that job to Cassandra. In Neverhorn, he’d given it to Sasha. He didn’t trust either Asuriel or Morgana with the task, so really, they had no other choice than to dig up this extremely difficult-to-find princess.

More than a few times, he’d been tempted to give up and wait for her to come out on her own, but now he was grateful he’d persevered. He finally had the princess in hand!

“I still can’t believe after all that chasing, we found her tied up and passed out on the ground!” Morgana chuckled. “I was expecting some sort of epic fight!”

“It was indeed a weird way to find her,” Sasha nodded.

“She was up to something pervy! What a naughty princess!” Asuriel laughed.

Darren figured Asuriel would be the expert on that, so she was probably right. The princess certainly hadn’t said anything that would make him think otherwise, though she remained unconscious as they returned to the surface.

The palace up above was a little small by Darren’s standards, but he commandeered a sitting room. He figured the princess would be most at home while sitting in her own home, so that was where they planned to wait for her to wake, chatting gently all the while.

“I think she’s waking up!” Asuriel said as she poked the princess in the cheek. “Places everyone!”

Asuriel scrambled to her position, leaning along the arm of the plush chair they’d selected for Darren. It was meant for two people, but he filled it up alone. She leaned against Darren’s side, head pressed against his arm with a coy and aloof smile. Morgana did the same on the other side. Sasha rolled her eyes and took up a position as well. She was the only one of the three tall enough to stand behind Darren and still be seen, so she leaned over his chair, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.

All in all, the three women succeeded in painting Darren as a conquering warlord, surrounded as he was by beauties and the trappings of power. He would no doubt seem quite intimidating to this princess when she woke.

Eventually, Princess Clair began to stir. Her hands were still bound in the manacles they’d found her in, and her ankles were even more firmly bound than before after Asuriel had her way. Darren initially planned to undo the restraints, but Asuriel insisted otherwise. Morgana had said making a good impression was very important, and leaving the princess tied up and helpless would help her position sink in. For all they knew, this princess could be a spoiled brat or completely loyal to Whiteguard.

The princess opened her eyes, pushing herself off the floor with bleary eyes. She glanced down at herself, taking in the ragged and torn scraps of her dress that were all she had to cover her. She looked as though she was surprised she was still alive.

“Am... am I an undead?” she asked as she studied her cuffed hands carefully.

That wasn’t the first question Darren had expected, but he answered it all the same. “No. You are alive. You are Princess Clair, yes?”

“I... I am indeed, sir paladin.” Princess Clair gathered before their eyes, straightening her back into the closest semblance of nobility she could manage, given her current condition. “Might I ask your name? Have you come from Whiteguard to replace Captain Xavier?”

Darren shook his head. “I am not from Whiteguard. I am Darren Heavengrace, from Limedeep.”

“My apologizes, Sir Darren of Limedeep.” Princess Clair blinked clarity into her eyes, gulping a little as she took in Darren’s hulking form and the three women leaning against him.

“Not sir,” Sasha corrected. “This is King Darren of Limedeep, so the proper honorific would be ‘your majesty.’ Or, since his wife is the Emperor of the Blackwind Empire, I suppose you could also call him his ‘imperial highness.’”

Princess Clair let out an audible gulp. “M-My humblest apologies, your imperial highness! I must say, you caught Eastwood at a terrible time. We’d welcome someone of your personage any other day with a feast.”

“No need,” Darren said. “I saw you were under attack by undead, so I came.”

“You... you came to save my city?” Clair’s eyes watered, and she bowed her head deeply in thanks. “Then you have my humblest gratitude. If there is anything at all, I can do to repay you, simply ask.”

Silence filled the air, and Clair kept her eyes on the ground. Her face was pale, like she feared she’d said something wrong. When she finally gathered the courage to look up again, her eyes turned to the three women beside the powerfully built king sitting before her.

Asuriel and Morgana each gave her a coy and knowing smile in response, while Sasha, over Darren’s shoulder, let out a brief snort.

Eventually, Darren spoke. “I need your help to restore order to the city.”

Understanding lit in Clair’s eyes. She glanced at the manacles around her wrists. “I see. I promise you shall have my full cooperation. The Eastwood is yours, King Darren. As am I. We were under Whiteguard’s rule before. Can I at least ask if my people and I will be treated worse than we were under their rule?”

Darren shrugged. “Up to you.”

Clair nodded solemnly. “I understand. I will be certain to please you as best I can then. H-how should I start?”

Darren stood. “Fix the city while I do better things. My women will help you.”

Clair blinked in surprise. “O-oh. Okay. I thought...” She glanced down at her manacles and her torn dress.

“Ha!” Asuriel tilted her nose up and sneered at Princess Clair. “If you think you can impress our man with such sloppy knotwork, you have another thing coming! While you’re organizing the repair effort, I’ll teach you to tie yourself up properly!”

“...huh?” Princess Clair’s mouth opened in confusion as Asuriel and Morgana scooped her up.

“Don’t worry, Darren! We’ll train this captive princess up for you! Soon, Eastwood will be a nice vassal kingdom waiting on your every word!” Morgana waved as she and Asuriel hauled the princess off.

Darren waved them off, mind already on the next task. Callum was recovering from his fight.

Sasha took off to supervise the efforts to clear out the last of the undead. Meanwhile, Darren went to see Callum, who was exhausted, battered, and bruised. He’d had a tough fight. Probably the toughest of his life.

Originally, Darren had planned to take out that hulking brute of an undead he’d seen through the eyes of his holy adept. But it turned out the man who’d died had been someone Callum had personally recruited. He’d insisted on avenging his subordinate himself.

Darren had watched the fight from afar, wondering all the while if he should step in or not. The undead had originally been a fairly powerful fourth-order archpaladin, though his transformation into undeath had been imperfect.

Darren was slowly piecing together what happened here. At some point, the paladins from Whiteguard had confronted a powerful demon who’d used some sort of curse on their fourth-order leader. The demon in question had probably been a powerful fourth order, or even a demon lord.

He wasn’t sure where that demon was now, but the curse had made Captain Xavier’s death inevitable. So when the priestesses failed to cure his curse, the rest of the paladins fled for their lives and set sail for Whiteguard with all haste. That was probably why the garrison had emptied out.

Captain Xavier was probably hoping that Whiteguard would send a fourth-order priestess in time to cure him before the blight took over, but help never arrived. Eventually, the curse overwhelmed him and converted all his Divine Aura into Demonic Aura. He lost a lot of power thanks to his prolonged struggle, going from the middle of the fourth order as an archpaladin to the early stages.

In other words, he was a perfect match for Callum.

The battle was long and violent. Callum was lucky the others had already cleared out the section of the city he was fighting in. Otherwise, he would have to worry about getting innocents caught up in the collateral damage or a zombie jumping on him from behind while he was busy fighting this particularly powerful foe.

From the first clash of their weapons, it was clear Callum was outmatched. The undead were stronger than him. Whoever this Captain Xavier had been, he’d possessed multiple strength skills and the instincts to use them. Every time the two of them locked weapons, Callum was pushed back.

But Callum had something the hulking undead didn’t. Flight.

With the agile nimbleness of a bird, Callum kept to the air. He engaged with his spear, striking from down blind alleys or from awkward angles. The undead were faster than something of its size ought to be but not quite fast enough to catch Callum.

The two played a game of cat and mouse, and Callum’s life rested on a knife’s edge each time. All it would take was a moment’s hesitation or letting his timing be a second too slow. Then, the death knight’s huge sword would sheer him in half.

But Callum didn’t hesitate. And each time he engaged, he did so flawlessly. Bit by bit, he nipped away at the death knight, dealing a dozen wounds. Any one of these blows would have put a demon or undead of lesser power down for good, but the death knight Callum was up against possessed incredible stamina and regeneration capabilities. Callum took chunks out of either leg with his spear tip, but the undead recovered and was on its feet again moments later.

The soot-blackened armor adorning its body was full of holes the exact size and shape of Callum’s spearhead by the time he lined up the final blow. Darren watched from afar as Callum’s soul burned brightly within him, blooming like a flower after a rainstorm.

Callum let out a ferocious battle cry as he dropped himself from above like a meteor, head first and with his spear clasped in both hands. He skewered the death knight right through its helmet, shattering both it and the cobblestone streets beneath it as he landed.

The death knight struggled for a moment, but Callum’s spear was sunk straight through its brain, down its neck, and into its heart. It toppled, and a wave of demonic spirits came billowing out of the undead’s corpse, only to be caught in the sunlight shining overhead. Just prior to his last attack, Callum had punched a hole in the thick clouds to let that sunlight through, and now it scoured the demonic spirits from the face of the world.

In the present, Callum was still recovering from the battle. Exhaustion and pride warred on his face, and he’d spent the time Darren had used to hunt down Princess Clair on recovering his Divine Aura and healing his wounds. Even though the death knight had never been able to deal him a direct blow, exchanging attacks with it had torn muscles all throughout his body. Without the aid of water from Darren’s newly evolved Lifewell, he probably would have taken weeks to get back into fighting shape. With it, healing up was just a matter of a few minutes.

“Well done,” Darren said as he settled down by Callum’s side. “I see you won.”

Callum cracked open an eye. “You knew that already. I saw you watching my fight.”

Though Darren had known it would be best for Callum to face this foe with his life truly on the line, he couldn’t abandon his friend entirely. That was what Darren himself had experienced growing up, and he had become strong so no one else would have to live through what he’d lived through.

“You won all the same.”

Callum nodded, one hand wrapped around his spear while the other wiped the tip clean with a cloth. “So... am I ready?”

Slowly, Darren nodded. “You’re ready.”

A grin split Callum’s face, and Darren gave him a pat on the back.

“What do I need to do?” Callum asked, but Darren had already taken action.

He reached into the core of Callum’s being, brushing against the soul that was him, buried deep within his physical vessel. He reached into his Inventory, withdrawing the largest and most impressive paladin soul stone in his collection.

He poured that power into Callum. His soul was like a sapling that had outgrown its pot, and now he was pushing out the borders of his being to make more room around it. The barriers around Callum’s soul vanished like they were never there, and suddenly he had so much more room to fill, so much more space to stretch. He had reached the fourth order.

“It’s done,” Darren declared.

Callum looked no different to the physical senses, but something about him made him seem more imposing, even as he lay there with his eyes closed and his breathing gentle.

“Callum?” Darren asked again. He nudged Callum’s shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

Darren’s heart leaped in his chest. Had he miscalculated? Was Callum not ready for the fourth order after all?

But after a moment’s examination, he realized his fears were overblown. The transformation had merely been more taxing on him than Darren expected, and Callum was still settling into his new power, mostly because of how tough that last battle had been for him. It would take some time before Callum’s soul re-acclimatized to his body.

Darren dropped Callum off in the palace. The palace’s tallest tower had a cozy little bedroom with a gated iron door at the front. It locked from the outside and had probably been in use as a prison cell until recently, but Callum’s ability to fly meant he could leave whenever he wanted by just sneaking out the window.

***

After putting Callum somewhere safe, Darren hunted down the corpse of that holy adept who'd been killed by the Death Knight and resurrected him.

"I'm... I'm alive?" The holy adept gasped. "I thought I died?"

He climbed to his feet on shaky legs. Darren picked him up and placed him on his feet.

"You were dead, but I resurrected you." He gave the brave young man a pat on the shoulder and one of the junk swords from his Inventory as a reward for his bravery, to which the holy adept gushed endless praise and thanks.

After, Darren checked in on Sasha, Morgana, and Asuriel. The latter two were trying to lead Princess Clair astray with all their might, but Sasha kept a firm hand on the situation. Princess Clair wasn’t all that adept at organizing the military-esque cleanup of the city and certainly not any good at directing Darren’s soldiers to hunt down the rest of the undead. But Sasha was there for all of that, and all the princess needed to do was coax all her surviving civilians into calmly coming out of hiding and cooperating with the new military force occupying the city.

Seeing they had all the troublesome matters well in hand, Darren took off back for the Blackwind Empire. He soared across the Sacred Seas, making incredible time as he pushed his speed to its limits. For anyone else, this was a week’s journey. For Darren, it was merely a matter of a few hours.

He touched down in the palace, spotting a few fingers pointed to the sky as people traced his arrival, like watching a dragon soaring through the sky. Thalia must have guessed where he’d land, because she was there waiting for him.

“Looks like I won.” Thalia smiled. “Cassandra is waiting in your bed chambers in the garden.”

Darren chuckled, having little doubt about what she hoped would happen when he arrived. “I’ll have to visit her later.”

Darren touched face with Thalia to make everything is going well.

“Quite well. Surprisingly well, really. I can hardly believe I’m an Empress now,” Thalia wrang her hands together. “Two of my siblings have given up their claims to the imperial throne, and two more were arrested and are being held in Limedeep. They’ll remain there under house arrest until our reign is secure.”

“What of Whiteguard?” Darren asked.

“They have been oddly quiet. Now that news of my father’s death and the true identity of the Sinful Servants is getting around, more than a few interests in the Blackwind Empire are looking for war. I sent a letter their way demanding an explanation and a formal apology for their tricks, but we’ve received no response. Nor have we noticed any movements on the border. Whiteguard can’t be bothered to speak with us at all.” Thalia shook her head in confusion.

“What of the ambassadors?”

Thalia pressed herself against Darren’s side as they walked through the halls of the palace, arms linked. “Two of the ambassadors fled following your takeover of the city. The other two were killed by one of the angry mobs Sasha quelled. It’s been a rough time to be an ambassador from Whiteguard, and if any of them are left in the city, they aren’t going to be very public about it.”

Darren didn’t like what he was hearing. Whiteguard wasn’t active in the Northern Trade Union. They’d abandoned what resources they had left in the Eastwind Kingdom. He’d kicked them out of the Blackwind Empire entirely. They should be desperate to hold on to what resources they had, not biding their time. Darren didn’t understand why they weren’t working harder to contest him. With his forces stationed in Neverhorn and Castingwatch, he controlled almost the entirety of the Sacred Seas.

The only places beyond his reach were Whiteguard itself and the Golden Temple’s main isle at the mouth of the Greater Sea.

“Any clues on what they’re up to?”

Thalia shook her head as her hand ran up the small of his back. “None. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Troubling...” Darren bit his lip. “How long would it take for the Blackwind Empire to rebuild its army?”

“If you asked me that question a month ago, I would have said it would take years. But with help from you and Cassandra? We’re already halfway there.”

“I’m glad she is doing something useful.”

Thalia smiled. “She’s very hardworking. She went through a month’s worth of my paperwork in one eighteen-hour session.”

Darren raised an eyebrow skeptically. That didn’t sound like the Cassandra he knew.

Thalia laughed. “You’re just very distracting for her, is all. She has trouble concentrating on work when she’s in the same room as you! But it isn’t just Cassandra’s help that’s put this empire back together. Your name goes a long way to solidifying our authority. Most emperors have to manufacture a legend for themselves, so other men know why they lead and others follow. But you? People are having a hard enough time believing the stories they’ve heard, even though they’re true! Add in a bottomless purse that lets us rehire every man who was in the imperial military over the last two decades, and reconstructing our imperial institutions has gone incredibly smoothly.”

“Good. Order them to present their best for my inspection,” Darren said. The cultists in Neverhorn had a few corrupted sigils, which were added to Darren’s massive pile from his adventures in the Seven Hells. It was pastime he made more Holy Adepts. “Have the rest stand ready for a fight with Whiteguard.”

Thalia’s face paled a little. “You think they’re going to come for a fight with us?”

Darren grimaced. The more suspicious Whiteguard acted, the more certain Darren was that the battle that was coming wouldn’t be one mortal could endure. He hoped he was wrong, but he sensed Kalaziel’s hands all over this. So just what was he planning?

***

Cassandra never showed up while Thalia and Darren caught up and grabbed lunch, so he decided to look for her. A brief glimpse through her sigil told him she was still in their room in the garden cabin, waiting on their bed with an impatient look on her face.

He realized he couldn’t keep her waiting and made his way there.

“Sorry for the wait, Cassandra. I was--“

Cassandra jumped on top of him, and his face was smothered by a kiss and the feeling of her bare skin.

<Note>
So that funny dialogue at the beginning is most of what I wanted Clair around for, as well as two more scenes a few chapters down the line. If I cut Clair out of the story we'll skip the first part of the chapter and just have some exposition of the fight, in which case this can be considered the chapter's extended edition.