“That lunatic is off his rocker is what it is,” Sam grunted as he finished his tankard. “I swear to God, he’s gonna get me killed.” It was late afternoon at the Drunk Mason, and though it was starting to fill up, it was still quieter than when they’d first seen it. The smell of beer and pipe smoke remained thick in the air, though, and the hum of conversation was a constant drone, punctuated by the occasional laugh or shout.

Today was the first day off from their training they’d gotten in the two weeks since they’d started, and all of them had been too sick of the chapel and its courtyard to want to spend it there.

“How are the wounds?” Camille asked, looking at his side. “At least he heals them, right?”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, before the adrenaline even wears off and I can feel the pain… but it doesn’t make getting stabbed worth it, at all.”

“Yes,” Tasha nodded sagely, finishing her drink. “Getting stabbed is never pleasant.”

“I come bearing beer and mead,” Kaisei proclaimed as he returned from the bar, “You’re welcome, you’re welcome, thank me later.”

“Well, someone’s in a good mood,” Camille noted. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m learning my first spell tomorrow!” Kaisei said excitedly as he sat down between Sam and Tasha. “If I can cast a fireball by the end of this, the whole mess will have been totally worth it!”

“What’s the spell?” Tasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, it’s, uh… it’s called ‘glow,’” Kaisei said. “It makes things, well… glow.”

Camille snorted. “I tremble to think of all the creatures you will slay with the mighty power of your magic night light. Truly you are becoming an archwizard.”

“Well it’s just a first spell!” Kaisei protested. “Today, I’ll learn glow, tomorrow, laser beams of doom!”

“Or at least, laser bams of rave,” Camille laughed.

As the two of them began bickering over their cups, the serving girl approached them. She had bright red hair that frazzled out from under a simple canvas hairband, and she had surprisingly muscled forearms. She smiled as she came up to their cable.

“Well then, you’ve had to drink, want any food to go with that? I’m sorry to say, we don’t have any roasted wolf, but the pottage is just as good!” she laughed.

“Ah, uh” Sam fumbled, “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

“You hear that Tahn?” she called back over her shoulder, “My pottage’s good enough for the Wolf Wrestler! So don’t you be bad mouthing my cooking here!”

“Bah!” an older man with a half-eaten pot in front of him grumbled. “He ain’t even tasted it yet! He’s only sayin’ that because you’re too pretty to say no to, even if your cooking’s shite!”

“Oh hush you,” she waved him off. “Don’t mind the old codger, ego aside the pottage really is good, he just likes complaining. I’m Katrid, by the way. And your names? I don’t think I ever got them the first time you were around.”

“Uh, I’m Sam, and these are Kaisei, Tasha and Camille. We’re training as Temple Guard with Father Mikhail, at the old chapel.”

“Oh, Temple Guard? So that huge sword must be yours,” she pointed at Steed where it rested against the table. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one as large! You must be very skilled to wield it.”

“Actually,” Camille said icily, “he’s quite clumsy with it. You should see him just trying to get it out of its scabbard.”

“Ha! I think I might like to! I’ll be right back with your pottage.”

Sam’s cheeks were beet red when Camille turned to glare at him. “Well then, someone’s popular, aren’t they?”

The silence stretched for a few seconds before Kaisei leaned forward. “Uh, what’s going on,” his eyes moved between Sam and Camille. “Have I… Missed something?”

“You did, but don’t worry about it,” Tasha said, taking a swig from her mead.

Sam was saved from further embarrassment when the door to the tavern opened.

“Barkeep!” a voice shouted. “A bottle of the good stuff for me and the… Well lookie here, boys, if it ain’t the so-called Temple Guard.”

Sam turned around to see Vigdam an his men approaching, dressed in the same padded vests and chainmail he’d first seen them in.

“Oh, and would you look at that sword!” the captain sneered. “Compensating for something, are we big guy?”

Tense silence stretched between the two groups as they sized each other up. Sam was still bigger than any of them, and he had a sword now, but there were more of them, and they were better equipped and better trained, and—

“Oh! I get it now!” Kaisei exclaimed, slapping his forehead, startling the whole faceoff. “The sword, from earlier! She meant the.. The… Uh… Right, sorry, middle of something.”

Vigdam scowled. “Still pathetic.” he spat. “How Mikhail thinks he can peddle the lot of you off as Temple Guards I will never know. But watch your step around here. We run this town. Not the Church, not that fat hack, and certainly not you.”

“I’m not sure you could run a bakery, much less a town.” Camille scoffed. “You know, I wondered what supernatural, world-shaking force could possibly have broken that bridge, but knowing you’re in charge makes simple incompetence a much likelier explanation.”

“Well you’ve got a tongue on you”, Vigdam turned to leer at her, “but you know, I’m the forgiving type. What do you say you and your pretty friend ditch these two and see if we can’t put it to better use?”

“I say,” Camille responded, tone frosty, “that if you don’t leave, we’ll get to find out just how high a castrated man can sing.”

“Why you—!” Vigdam started as if to slap her, but stopped himself when he saw Sam’s hand snap to Steed. He never noticed Tasha’s knife in her hand below the table. Camille didn’t even flinch. “Fine then, suit yourself. You’ll get what’s coming to him, and then some.”

“Let’s go, lads,” he said, turning around. “The room smells foul tonight, and the company’s worse.” As one, they turned around and walked back to the door, armor clinking, and the door slammed shut behind them.

“Sweet Marrow,” Tahn muttered from the table next to them. “I’m too old for all this excitement.”

“Well, thank the Angel that’s over with, here’s your pottages,” Katrid said as she came from the kitchen. “Sorry about the wait, but I wasn’t going to deliver them to you while that pig was at your table.” She looked at Camille. “And from what I’ve heard of what he said to you, you probably understand why. Thanks for putting him in his place.”

“Does he often do this kind of thing?” Camille said, still looking coldly at the door.

“Often enough,” Katrid sighed. “But usually when a girl gives him lip like that, she doesn’t have friends with swords or status as a Temple Guard to stay his hand, and she can’t exactly punch back.”

“Why doesn’t anyone do anything about him?” Sam said, fingers white around Steed. “He’s going too far!”

“What can we do?” Katrid shook her head. “Soldiers are like hornets, mess with one and you get the whole damn hive.”

“Bah! Back in my day, someone like that, we’d have just taken four young lads, ambushed him in the night, slit his throat and hid the body!” Tahn grunted from his table, shaking a fist. “That’s the problem with kids today! No will left in them, just bendin’ down to the Vaiians like puppies!”

Katrid’s eyes went wide. “Tahn, watch your tongue! You’ve had too much to drink!”

“What are they going to do? Jail me?” The old man wheezed with harsh laughter. “Joke’s on them! I’ll croak the first day I spend in there, and then they’ll be stuck with a bony old corpse!”

“You’re speaking as if you’ve forgotten Gerehd! Or what happened to the Ulfvar! Now shut up and pray nobody reports you!”

“Hmph. Can’t even do that properly no more, thanks to ‘em.” Tahn grumbled, but went back to his pottage.

“Well, anyway, I’m sorry for the trouble,” Katrid lookd at them apologetically. “I hope you all keep coming here despite Vigdam.”

“It’s alright,” Sam growled. “I don’t bend to bullies.”

“Man,” Kaisei said as they walked out of the village and back towards the chapel. “This place is kinda fucked.”

“You can say that again,” Camille said sullenly. “A petty tyrant like that toying with women around him like he owns them… And people letting him! For all the magic and wonder, these really just are the fucking Middle Ages.”

“Not the Middle Ages,” Tasha said quietly. “People like that exist on Earth, too, and girls there also need to just hope they don’t get noticed.”

“Yes, but at last on Earth we’re doing something about it!”

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything about it here, by ourselves,” Kaisei shook his head. “At least he can't do anything to us, either.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sam said, eyes hard and mouth set, feeling Steed bounce at his side with each step.

“Look” Kaisei said, “I’m not saying I’m happy about the guy, but if we start trying to pick a fight, we’ll—”

“Later. Someone is riding up, fast.” Tasha interrupted him.

Sam had to squint for a moment before he finally spotted what she meant. A figure on horseback was approaching fast, with the dusk's growing darkness at their back. Judging from the low plume of dust and dirt that followed them, they were galloping at breakneck speed.

“What do you think that’s about?” Kaisei said, fidgeting.

“Probably not for us.” Camille said. “Just step off the road and let them pass us.”

They uneasily edged off the road as the galloping rider approached, their conversation momentarily stopped. But as the horse reached them, rather than ride past, it stopped abruptly, whinnying and rearing, and they got their first look at the rider.

The man wore a thick suit of snowy white plate armor that, even in the dusk’s low light, managed to gleam and shimmer, and a long white cape flowed behind him. Despite his hard ride through the road’s grime and dirt, he was completely immaculate. The only things that looked out of place on his gleaming white armor were his sword, simple and utilitarian in a plain scabbard of worn-leather, and his face. It was grim and stony, with short-cropped gray hair, and an ugly scar stretched from cheek to ear. A stylized white eye dominated the center of his breastplate.

“Initiates Samson, Camille, Natasha and Kaisei?” the stranger began. They tensed. Sam fought the urge to reach for Steed's handle. “I am Inquisitor Maedras, and I have been sent to find you.”