Chapter 35

It took a week of near constant travel before they reached anything that could truly be called civilization. The land between Haywood and Catania – the next closest city – was scarcely populated apart from the occasional small farm. While the cost of living in a large city like Haywood or Catania was exorbitantly high, venturing too far from the city center was considered a much higher price to pay. Only the poor and desperate lived more than a day’s ride from either Haywood or Catania, where a Paladin, or at the very least a few knights, were stationed in the event of a demon attack. Those who took the risk of living beyond the Paladins’ reach were easy prey. To Sam’s disappointment – for it certainly would have relieved the tedium of their travels – they had but a single demon attack the entire time they were on the road. It was a small, pathetic thing – a watermelon-sized ball of fur with shrunken vestigial wings. Hopping about on its one spindly limb, the demon was about as threatening as a one-legged chicken. Tristan made them use it for target practice. Sam almost felt bad for the creature, until it tried to take a bite out of her leg while she waited for Tristan to locate his bow and arrow. Though a week’s journey was not overlong by most standards, Sam had never made it out to Catania before. The duke of Catania and his much younger duchess had visited Haywood a few times, but whether they would remember her face, even if it was fully healed, was dubious. She hadn’t seen a mirror in days, but her skin was no longer sensitive to the touch and she sensed she resembled her old self again. She doubted that Tristan would seek an audience with the duke, so it would likely be a nonissue regardless. Considering their relative proximity, Sam was surprised by how different the two cities were. Perhaps the contrast was heightened by Haywood’s anticipation for the Grand Fair, but the people of Catania seemed downright downtrodden in comparison. At this time of year, the marketplace was supposed to be abuzz with excitement for the warm weather and display of new wares. The business district of Catania, however, was a somber place. As Sam peered into the shops’ display windows, the shopkeepers were alternately harried or sour faced, and the prospective buyers stared at their feet rather than their companions. “Will we be staying in Catania long?” Sam asked Tristan. “Just for the night. We’ll leave at first light tomorrow,” said Tristan, stopping to admire a leather pair of boots. “Good.” Tristan arched a brow. “Don’t think much of Catania, do you?” “Everyone’s so gloomy. I’d grow depressed staying long in a place like this.” Tristan looked around as if seeing the market-goers for the first time. “You know, it is rather dreary. I hadn’t noticed.” “Is all of Catania like this?” Sam asked. Tristan stroked the blond stubble on his chin. “I suppose I can’t fairly say. I know a few of the Paladins posted here, and they’re a raucous lot. I’d hardly characterize them as gloomy. We might run into them while we’re here – they frequent the Hog in Armor, where we’ll be staying the night.” “The Hog in Armor? What kind of name is that for an inn?” An apt one, as it turned out. They arrived at the Hog in Armor just past sundown, after Tristan replenished their supplies and spent an inordinate amount of time examining a crossbow, which of course he did not buy. The innkeeper, a tiny man with delicate spectacles perched low on his nose, somehow managed to look down at them despite his small stature. “Can I help you?” “Aye,” said Tristan. “We need a place to sleep for the night – three rooms, if you have them, but three pallets would do as well.” The innkeeper took in their disheveled appearance, their clothes dusty and skin grimy from the road, and sniffed distastefully. “We’re full.” 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. Tristan sighed. “I suppose we could stop by.” Braeden’s head shot up and dropped just as quickly. “Excellent, Lyons, I’ll tell the others you’re coming. They’ll be thrilled to have a legend in their midst,” said Paladin Sagar. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few quick errands to run before the night gets going.  Crompton will take good care of you in the meantime, I’m sure. Grand to see you, Tristan, and your trainees, too. What are your lads’ names again?” “We didn’t say,” said Sam. “It’s Sam of Haywood, Paladin.” “Got a bit of a mouth on him, this one does. Don’t worry, we’ll train that out of you. And you, boy?” “Braeden.” “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sam of Haywood and Braeden with no surname. Fascinating eyes you got there, Braeden—sure there’s a story behind them. I’ll see you lot in an hour’s time.” Sam and Braeden looked at Tristan, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “See you in an hour.” After Paladin Sagar took his leave, Crompton led them to their rooms as promised, though not without obsequious apologies for his previous mistreatment. Naturally, Tristan had a room to himself, and Braeden and Sam were to share the adjacent room.