By Timothy Walsh

Click here for Part 1

The back of the hovertruck was filled with an awkward and silent tension. Phaedrin looked around as she munched on a breakfast sandwich that she’d managed to abscond with. There were six lightly armed humans sitting among the packed cargo crates, all of them studiously avoiding looking at her.

“So,” she said brightly, shattering the silence, “how long of a trip is it up to the mines, anyway?”

The humans looked around at each other with uncertain expressions, before one looked at Phaedrin and answered. “P-probably about two hours, Paladin.”

“Thanks. And just call me Phaedrin. It’s my name.” She continued to maul the breakfast sandwich. It was honestly really good. Probably one of the top ten breakfast sandwiches she had recently, she thought. The local spices were amazing, and whatever native animal went into the sausage was tangy as all get out. She idly wondered if she’d be able to buy some before she left.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The human who had answered her before was speaking again. “Can… can I ask you a question?” The man looked nervous, but had clearly worked himself up to the point of being able to speak directly to her. 

Phaedrin nodded, pointing at her full mouth with an apologetic expression. The man blinked at her and continued, “You, um. You don’t really seem like how I -- we -- expected a paladin to act. You’re. Um,” he paused as Phaedrin quickly swallowed the last of her food.

“Nice? Pleasant? Friendly?” she said.

The man blanched, but nodded. 

Phaedrin chuckled, not unkindly, and asked, “Hey, what’s your name, anyway? I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask before we all got into this hovertruck which, by the way, sure feels like it needs better shock absorbers even if that’s not at all how hovertrucks work.”

The human laughed and stuck out his hand. As Phaedrin’s paw engulfed it for a handshake he replied, “Ricard, and yeah, I don’t know what’s up with the antigravs on this thing but they really do give an old-school wheeled conveyance experience, don’t they?” The two shared a laugh, and he continued more easily. “But yeah, seriously. The last few times we had a paladin come through, it wasn’t like any of them were bad people or anything, but they were all just all cut from the same cloth. Stoic and stern, one of them was even dour. All business, all the time. You are definitely not that. What gives?”

Phaedrin sat back on her bench and huffed out a breath. “Well, the easy answer is that all devotees of the Vilithic Church are different people, and people act differently.” Ricard had an openly dubious look on his face, and she chuckled as she continued. “That’s true, but it’s also pat and it’s also not really what you’re asking. How much do you know about basic Church doctrine?”

Ricard matched Phaedrin’s posture, leaning back on his bench seat. “I have the basics, but that’s about all. We don’t have a real priest out here, just a lay preacher, but we get most of the usual sermons, I suppose.” Phaedrin gestured at him to continue. “We know that the Vilithic Gods… well, they aren’t good. Getting noticed by them isn’t a good idea, and doing stuff that they like will get you noticed -- lying, theft, murder and all that -- so best not to act like them. Anointed priests and paladins of the Church can draw on them though, and perform miracles. You all get their attention, so the rest of us won’t.”

Phaedrin nodded. “That’s pretty much it, yes. So, well, to be blunt? Think about it. Think about what it must be like to tie yourself to powers like that. It’s really not an easy thing. It can be a heavy load to carry, and that’s usually reflected in how people act. Also, paladins especially end up in a lot of harsh and difficult situations. If you’ve ever met some career combat veterans, it can be the same thing, I guess. Hells, if you think that some line paladins were too serious, hope you never meet a real crusader. They take that lack of humor to a whole new level.”

Ricard had been thinking through her words, though he shivered at the mention of crusaders. “You’re not anything like that, though!”

The paladin laughed. “Well, you haven’t really seen me in a situation that calls for me to be serious,” she said. “But outside of that, no, I’m not. I’ve got no reason to be, I suppose. This life is my only life, and I intend to enjoy it. I’m doing hard work, and necessary work, and it isn’t what you’d call fun, but in the end I’m helping people. I keep them safe in this life, and I help them pass unclaimed by the Gods in the next.” She kept smiling, but her tone sobered. “Really though, I know the types of things that await me after I die. I’m not trying to make myself seem more important than I am, or to play for sympathy, but I know the sacrifice I’m making for people. There’s going to be a whole lot of not-fun waiting for me after I leave here, so why not enjoy myself while I can?”

“That’s… a lot to take in. More than I expected to hear when I woke up this morning.” Ricard looked up at Phaedrin. “I can get there. It makes sense. Though I’m happy that it isn’t something that I need to consider for my own life, and I appreciate that.” 

The Urunar shrugged her shoulders. “It’s what I do. It’s what we do. Everyone deals with it in their own way. When you get down to it…” Her next words were drowned out by the sound of a short explosion from outside the truck, followed by shouted orders to stop the vehicle and get out of it.

Phaedrin looked at the humans in the truck with her. “That sounds like our cue. I’ll go out first, you all follow after I’ve gotten some attention. Grab cover, keep your heads down.” Her mouth fell into a toothy grin. “Time to show some people what the attention of the Gods can look like.”

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