Paladin

Chapter 19 Part II

“But you didn’t even discourage him from stealing again,” said Sam.

Tristan dug his knees into his horse’s sides and clucked, urging the mare forward. “No, I discouraged him from getting caught.”

“Tristan!” Sam exclaimed.

“You must have never gone hungry before,” said Tristan. His stomach almost rumbled in remembrance. There was a time when he, too, would have done just about anything for a loaf of bread. “Hunger makes thieves out of most men.”

Sam chewed on his lower lip, mulling it over. “I still say stealing is wrong.”

“Not everything’s always black and white, Sam,” said Braeden suddenly, bringing his horse level with Tristan’s. “You of all people should know that.”

Sam looked as though he wanted to say something, but settled for sticking out his tongue. Braeden’s mouth quirked up reluctantly. Good, thought Tristan. He would have throttled the both of them if they returned to the enmity of the last week.

Their horses clopped through the crowded street, the heavy foot traffic constraining their gait to a slow walk. The city stank of animal dung, refuse and human sewage, the putrid odor only growing stronger as they rode deeper into the heart of Westergo.

Up ahead was a strangely discordant sight. On their left, a hundred or so small, dilapidated shanties leaned precariously against one another, not all of them entirely intact. A cluster of crude workshops and factories spit out smoke and heat that lay over the crumbling tenements in a thick blanket. People – men and women with an air of desperation and children with wide, hungry stares – poured out of every nook and cranny.

On their right was a sprawling palace that rivaled the Center in its size and grandeur. The marble exterior formed a large U-shape around lush gardens – likely the only greenery in the entire city – and two long, rectangular pools. Five or six elegantly dressed couples meandered through the maze of hedges and orange blossoms arm-in-arm.

“Gods,” Sam swore, wrinkling his face in disgust. Even Braeden’s inscrutable features registered distaste.  “Is that monstrosity where we’re headed?”

“Aye,” said Tristan, taking in the overwrought architecture. He had grown accustomed to the Paladins’ brand of extravagance after years of living and training at the Center, but seeing the lavish display of wealth side by side with such extreme poverty was a shock to the system. He’d seen the palace from afar the first time he traveled through Westergo, but he’d hardly been in a position to step inside its gilded doors. “I’m told the entire Westergoan aristocracy resides here. And a few Paladins, as well.”

“Friends of yours?” asked Braeden archly.

Tristan shook his head. “None I’ve met. The High Commander stationed a few men out here right at the start of my own apprenticeship, six years back.”

“And they’ve been here for the past six years?” asked Sam. “That seems an awfully long time.”

“The Westergoans have always been a little unruly,” said Tristan. “There were the beginnings of an uprising when the Paladins were first sent out here, and they had to diffuse any insubordination. Now they’re here for insurance.”

Out of nowhere, Tristan felt a small hand wrap around his left ankle. “Hold up,” he said to Sam and Braeden, yanking on his reins until his horse drew to a complete stop.  He peered down at a tiny slip of a girl, her dirt-smudged face streaked with tears. Gods damn it, he hated tears. Especially little girls’ tears. The little beggar girl was going to play him like a fiddle, and he would very likely give her everything she asked for. “What is it, child?” he asked, trying to sound stern.

The little girl’s face crumpled. “ ‘Tis me brother, milord,” she sobbed. “They’s beatin’ him somethin’ fierce and I’s afraid they’s gonna kill him.” She hiccupped and blew her nose into her threadbare frock.  “He – he said to find you, milord. He said you’d help us.”

Tristan grimaced as the girl dissolved into a fresh bout of sobs. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else. My companions and I are just passing through Westergo. I’m afraid I don’t know your brother.”

“Please, milord,” the girl pleaded. “He’s me only brother. ‘T’aint fair what they’s doin’ to him. They’s gonna whip him ‘til he’s dead. I seen it happen before.” She sniffled, water leaking from her eyes and nose like a fountain. “I’s sure he meant for me to go and find you, milord. Couldna been anyone else.”

Tristan swung his legs off the horse and crouched down beside the girl. “I really don’t know your brother, miss, but mayhap I can help anyway. Who is this ‘they’ you keep referring to? And why do they have your brother?”

“ ‘Tis the Paladins, milord,” she said. “They’s sayin’ he’s a thief.”

Tristan’s blood ran cold. “A thief?”

“Aye, milord.” She twisted her hands in the material of her dress. “ ‘Tis me birthday today, and Charlie – that’s me brother – wanted to buy me one of them fancy cakes at the baker’s shop. I told him not to do it! I says to him them cakes are awful expensive. But he told me he had the money, that he’d buy it for me proper. And he showed me this gold coin--”

Tristan’s heart dropped to his stomach. “Gold coin, you say?” he asked hoarsely.

The girl nodded. “I bit it and everything to make sure it was real. And first I thought he stole it, but he promised me he got it fair and square.” Her eyes swept over Tristan. “He says he got it from a tall gaffer with gold hair and a mean scowl. He mentioned your friends, too,” she added, pointing at Sam and Braeden, who exchanged twin looks of horror.

Tristan cursed under his breath. “So what happened?”

“He tried to pay for the cake with the gold coin. The baker – he’s a nice gaffer – he woulda accepted it, too. But one of them Paladins happened ta be passing by, and he says me brother stole the coin. Charlie says that no, he was given the coin honest. But the Paladin, he just laughs, and says me brother’s now a thief and a liar. And that thieves and liars hafta be punished.” Her chin quivered. “Now they’s gonna flog him ‘til he can’t scream no more.”

“Shite,” Tristan swore, and then mumbled a brief apology for his coarseness. He rose from his haunches to his feet.

“What are you going to do?” asked Sam.

Tristan glared at the trainee. “What do you think?” He held out his hand to the little girl, and she tentatively placed her small hand in his. “Alright, girl, lead the way to this brother of yours.”

A/N: Yes, it's short, but it's a quick update! And the second half of the chapter. Per usual, if you enjoyed the chapter, please vote. And you know I love your comments!