I called forth the power of Bi and swung my fist into his face, knocking the man back into his comrades. A spear squealed as it scratched across my armor, but I snatched it away with my other hand. Now I had a weapon. All around me Mirktallean spearmen circled and jabbed at me with skittish strikes.

Another battle, the tenth in a fortnight as my Order charged its way across northern Sena on our bulls. Yet, our enemy had grown wise to us. This battle, unlike the others, they had prepared a trap. A simple trench dug and hidden so that when we charged, our mighty steeds faltered. I was one of the lucky ones not to be crushed beneath my mount.

Instead, I flew forwards in a heavy roll that left my leg feeling broken and my back clenched in pain. I wouldn’t let that stop me though. These men had done a disservice to themselves with their dishonorable tactics. To deliberately harm a bull? That was an afront to my god.

“For Bi!” I cried to let any other [Paladins] know that I was still with them. I heard the sparse cheers from behind me in response and knew I wasn’t alone. Which was enough. I used the spear like a club, beating back the enemies until it broke. Then my fists, until I snatched an axe that had lodged in my shoulder plate.

I thought this was the end. The cheers I heard from my brothers in arms had not been loud enough. I fought alone and encircled instead of standing side by side. The fight was one of ferocity and savagery, not the orderly charges and shieldwalls I preferred. Yet, who stands before a raging bull? I could only charge and keep charging until either I or they fell.

Another two men dead at the cost of a speartip in my elbow. Four men at the cost of a blow that dented my helm. One man, a commander in shining ring mail and a blue cloak, I beheaded but I took a sharp blade to the back of my knee. I tried to stand, but the leg wouldn’t support me.

The enemy surrounded me with intent to finish me off. I could see their eyes beneath their iron helms, but that only made it worse. These men and women were slaves. Their red armor was poorly made leather. Their black boots cracked and torn. They didn’t want to fight. I took no pride in their deaths. There was no valor to be won here. I felt a certainty that this battle was my last.

The hesitant circle of foes around me grew from five to ten to twenty soldiers, all looking to see who would strike first. They knew that I would deal death for injury and not wanting to be the first. That was when I heard the battlecry. Another charge, coming in from behind, and those enemies turned to look away.

From the rear, they were under attack. An ambush to their ambush. I don’t know why I thought that, but it made me chuckle. The chuckle became a laughter, and that laughter shook my foes. In panic, they dropped their weapons and fled, but my spirit and strength had been spent. It was all I could do to kneel upright and hold my trophy axe in the air. I closed my eyes and prayed, certain that one of the enemy would surely strike me down as they fled.

“Are you [Paladin] Adam?” the man’s voice shook me from my reverie.

I looked up, seeing a large man with a round nose, a thick beard of grey and black on his chin. Behind him, more than a hundred men rallied as they pilfered the dead. Their mismatched armor and dirty bodies made it clear they were bandits.

I looked him in his eyes, if he were here to kill me he’d have to remember my face, “I am.”

The man gave a great sigh, and placed his hands on his hips as he looked up, “Finally.”

A hired killer then? Did some other order place a bounty on my head? It would not be the first time. Yet, this time I was unprepared to defend myself. Even now, I felt my blood pooling down into my boots.

Before I could say any last words, though, the man reached down and offered a hand.

“It took me weeks to find you. A wizard named Nemon Fargus sent me. Name’s Michael,” his gruff voice was matched with a lopsided grin. “And I need you to do some truthseeing.”