“Language Mariel or your mother will lecture me again.”
Gris was a tall man whose girth made him a little larger than his younger years. The few extra pounds didn’t take away the level of intimidation his frame gave him when he entered a room, though the smile on his face quickly simmered it.
“What’s the point of having words if you can’t use them?” Mariel stated.
“There’s a time and place for all words. You just always seem to use them at the wrong time.”
The Paladin glowered at her father, whose dark eyes were bright with laughter. “I’m only teasing,” he said, drawing his daughter into a hug.
Mariel struggled to not fall apart in her father’s arms since she seemed to cry in them more and more recently. She was silent, unable to find any words that wouldn’t be angry or hurtful.
“Amon told us what happened this morning,” Gris said.
“Damn dirty snitch,” Mariel said in his shoulder.
His chest rumbled, covering his mouth before he spoke. “Don’t say that about your brother. He was worried about you, and he wasn’t wrong.”
“He was wrong. I don’t exist to come to their rescue every time they act like a dumbass, and I won’t pretend it’s ok.”
Gris released his daughter, walking down the main aisle of the temple, looking over each statue of the gods. “When I was a kid, all I ever wanted in life was to talk to a god. Not because I wanted to be a Paladin, or I wanted some prayer answered, but I wanted to take a glimpse into something that was bigger than myself. The moment you were born, I realized I got my childhood wish.”
“Yeah, because you got a Paladin,” Mariel grumbled.
Gris cupped his daughter’s face. “No, because I realized I didn’t need to see the gods see what was greater than myself. The instant I saw your little face, I knew you were going to someone wonderful. Not because of this white hair and blue eyes the gods gave you but because I could feel the potential that was ready to burst out of you.”
“That sounds like bullshit dads just say.”
He rubbed her head, shuffling her hair. “You’ll get it one day. Oh, I almost forgot.” He went back to the front door of the temple, returning with a basket in his arms. “Eat up.”
Mariel uncovered the basket, the aroma of freshly baked bread, cheese, and meat hitting her nose. Her mouth instantly watered as she tore off a chunk of bread and stuffed it into her mouth.
“Thanks, dad, but I’m not apologizing. Clarence Finley is a wreck of a human being.”
“It’s true that he has been a bit of a handful growing up, but people are more than what they show,” Gris said, walking towards the door. “Though Clarance never broke doors and walls in a sacred temple.”
Mariel stuck out her tongue to match her father’s playfulness. She heard him hum a song that was often heard in the fields while he worked on the door. It was a tune that he said would soothe her as a baby. She couldn’t deny that even now it released the tension in her muscles and calmed her mind.
“I’ve always liked your parents, their minds are not easily clouded.”
Yula appeared beside his Paladin. “You did a good job today, Mariel. I know it can be difficult dealing with conflict between Great Beasts and humans.”
“The only beast there was the human,” Mariel whispered, cutting her eyes to her father. Ordinary humans couldn’t see the gods without the gods wanting to be seen, but humans could definitely hear her, and she regrettably learned that if someone saw her talking to herself, then a god was near. Too many times someone had dropped to their knees in front of her, begging for her blessing or praising her for being chosen.
“Yes, that human is rather brash and unpleasant, but you handled it. What’s important is maintaining a positive relationship between the humans and Great Beasts.” Mariel simply nodded, having heard this bit of Paladin education many times before. “You should think about going to the Champion Selection this year,” Yula said.
She glared at the minor god. The Champion Selection takes place in the Capital of Kingdoms, a neutral zone governed by peacekeepers and retired Paladins. Most viewed the occasion as a coming of age ceremony for Paladins who reached adulthood and were eligible to select a king to serve. They would then work with their king, advising them on matters within the kingdom and protecting the people from any evil that may befall them. Mariel saw the entire event as a way for the kings to brown nose the Paladins into working for them.
The kings desired Paladins, not only for their power, but the belief that the more Paladins a King had, the greater favor they had with the gods. By command of the gods, each king could have no more than ten Paladins under their service. In the past, Champion Selections happened often because of the growing wars between humans. While the gods commanded the Paladins would not be used for battles against humans, many Paladins died from protecting the people from the devastation wars brought. With peace settled into the lands for many years, the Selection only occurred when Paladins retired.
“I haven’t received an invitation,” Mariel reminded.
“That’s likely because you mailed them back a box of horse waste with an obscene drawing on their invitation last time.”
She almost choked on her food from laughter, her father turning in concern. Mariel waved back at him, and Gris shook his head as he returned to his work. “If I didn’t go then, I’m not going now.”
Yula sighed. “The world has changed in the five years since the last Selection. Tension has been growing between the kingdoms, there are whispers of war.”
“So? What good would I be to a king, anyway? I haven’t traveled far past these farmlands. I have no experience in political matters.”
“All the more reason you should work under a seasoned Paladin. They can teach you so many things,” Yula insisted.
“I don’t want to serve a king for gods know how long only to retire and rot away in the Capital until I eventually die.”
“Being a Paladin isn’t a punishment, Mariel, and their paths are not always the same, but you have the power to do a lot of good. Don’t shy away from that."
She didn’t have to look to know Yula disappeared. Mariel imagined all the gods were like that, not realizing that the feet they had could walk among ordinary people. The statue of Edona gently smiled at her, and the Paladin stared. Her face twisted in disgust and she threw the last of her bread at the expertly carved face.
“Well, this is all I can do, for now,” Gris announced, opening the door. “I better go before the villagers get jealous that I was here talking to the gods or something.”
Mariel rose, eating the last bit of cheese she had. “They have nothing good to say, anyway.”
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