Paladin

Chapter 18

Tristan snorted. The tavern area was only middling full at best; even the bar had unoccupied seats. “You might want to check your books again.”

The innkeeper frowned and adjusted his spectacles. “I’m afraid we can’t accommodate you and your men at this time, but there is another inn on the main thoroughfare that would be more than happy to take your business.”

Tristan ground his teeth and towered over the innkeeper menacingly. “I don’t know what the issue is, as you clearly have open rooms. I have stayed at this inn before and I intend to stay here again tonight.”

The innkeeper was unruffled. “You must have procured a room from my predecessor. The Hog in Armor is for men with refined tastes, and to be blunt, we don’t serve men of your ilk.”

“Men of my ilk? You listen to me, little man—“

“Lyons! That you?”

The innkeeper turned to the source of the new voice and blanched. “I-I did not see you there, Paladin. You know this man?"

The newcomer, a broad-shouldered, stocky fellow, let out a guffaw. “Know him? This here’s the finest swordsman in the kingdom, except for maybe the High Commander himself. And even I wouldn’t place any bets on that fight. You ever spar with the High Commander, Lyons?”

Tristan nodded in greeting. “Good to see you, Sagar. And I can’t say I have.”

Paladin Sagar tsked. “Shame, that. Would love to know who’d come out on top.” He jerked his thumb at the innkeeper. “Is Crompton here treating you right?”

“Actually, he was just telling us that all the rooms were full,” said Tristan.

The innkeeper – Crompton – dabbed at his forehead with a lace handkerchief.  “My deepest regrets, Paladin Lyons. Had I known who you were—“

“Spare me the false apology. Do you have rooms available or do you not?”

Crompton opened his bound ledger and flipped through the pages. “I have two rooms on the third floor. Will that suit the needs of you and your men?”

“My trainees. Paladin trainees,” Tristan clarified. “That will be fine.”

“Begging your pardon. I’ll take you to your rooms myself whenever you are ready.” Crompton looked back and forth between the two Paladins. “Will you be attending the party this evening?”

“Party?”

“Of course he’s going,” Sagar said, clapping Tristan on the back. “Lyons, bring your trainees, too. All the lads will want to say hello.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t mind old Crompton, boys. He warms right up once he knows you’re a man of worth.”

“Hold up, Sagar,” said Tristan. “I haven’t any idea what you’re going on about. What is this about a party?”

“You came to the Hog in Armor on a good night, my friend. Over the past few years, we’ve all but taken over the inn – best lodgings you’ll find west of the Center, after all – so Crompton’s been so kind as to host monthly gatherings for the Paladins in the area. It usually ends up as a veritable who’s who of Catania since the aristocracy’s invited to attend as well.  It’s good fun, I promise.”

“Perhaps,” said Tristan noncommittally.

“Come on, Lyons, I’ll be bereft if you don’t show. And your trainees no doubt deserve a break for putting up with your sorry hide. Terrible traveling companion, our Tristan,” Paladin Sagar said to Sam and Braeden with a wink. Sam didn’t know how to respond to the boisterous man, and Braeden’s heavy-lidded eyes were glued to the floor.