CHAPTER 8: Paladinium

"We are the Light in the Darkness. The Hope in Despair. In death, we thrive with Purpose. In life, we die with Honor." - Paladin Creed

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The Templar Paladinium, Kingdom State of Galiron, Eiridan Empire

Ezakem 10 AE

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The smooth marble floors clacked even at Nash's leather soles as he walked the Atrium of the Templar Paladinium. Far from the messy drills outside, the silence of the inner halls is deafening. He preferred the noise. It is the natural order of things. If silence is to exist, it should be natural. Not this. Synthetic. Artificial. Like the constructed hierarchy of society.

"It's not every day I get to see you back," a deep voice approached him from behind. Eckard.

"Cherish it," Nash grunted back.

"Hey," Eckard finally caught up with his stride, feigning hurt. "Is that any way to talk to your father?"

Eckard appeared to be a capable man in his early forties, with a graying beard and neatly cut hair. He walked tall and proud like any other knight. However, Nash knew that the old man is twice as old.

"Oh, you are using that now?" Nash replied. "Last time it was, 'heir of the legend'."

"Nah," Eckard dismissed. "That was before you happened."

"You know as well as I do that I am not of your blood. And I am not interested."

"Don't say that," Eckard said. "Given your talent and skill, I'd say we're related."

Nash laughed at this irony. They are indeed not related in blood. Eckard took him from the streets when he was eleven, five years ago. The old man gave him a home and a purpose. Now he is a full-fledged Paladin at only sixteen. But he never considered the man his father. His real father is still out there. Eckard had been kind. But Nash saw him more as a mentor than a father figure. He decided long ago that he could only have one father.

"I am grateful," Nash smiled, his eyes never leaving his destination – the massive doors on the far wall of the Atrium.

The Paladinium Atrium is about a kilometer wide, its sheer size performing both a practical and aesthetic purpose. Aesthetically, it boasts of the Order's wealth, power, and prestige. Practically, it keeps the Paladins physically fit from the regular walking between one end to the other just to get things done.

Of course, Paladins could choose to cover the distance in a single dash, but those abilities are usually reserved for combat or training. When Nash first came here two years ago, his Handler told him that the Atrium is made to be a place of peace, tranquility, clerical interactions, and bureaucracy. Nash still scoffs at the idea of peace and tranquility. Clerical interactions and bureaucracy, though, he can accept.

The Atrium may be quiet, but it is far from empty. Knights, recruits, squires, and pages moved about quietly, silently making conversations and transactions in low voices.

"Really?" Eckard said. "You sure don't sound like it."

"What do you want, 'father'?" Nash stressed the last word.

"I'm worried about you," Eckard said. Without breaking his stride, Nash finally looked at the man.

Eckard looked genuine. Those kindly hard eyes had seen more battles than his years. Eckard is definitely an experienced man. But Nash has spent enough time with him to call the bluff.

"No, you're not," he replied, "Mira is." Eckard's wife. Nash's foster mother. At this Eckard broke into a hearty laugh. Nash couldn't help but laugh with him.

They were nearing the end of the Atrium. A familiar weight began to press on Nash's every fiber of being. The High Council's collective Qi.

"Seriously, though? Won't you at least consider the offer?" Eckard said as they approached the large doors. The older knight doesn't seem to have noticed the shift in the surrounding energy. Then again, Eckard is a legend among Paladins. If he felt it, he simply didn't show it. "Mira would hate to hand over the estate to the Empire. She cared for it all her life."

"Teck," Nash said, finally reverting to how he usually calls the man, "I don't need it."

"I belong out there," he emphasized. "The government will put it to better use than I ever could. And it doesn't look like you'll be dying any time soon."

"The life of a Paladin is a short one, Son," Eckard said.

"This?" Nash scoffed, "Coming from the 80-year old Legend?"

"Hey, I don't look that old!"

"True. But you actually are."

"Well, if Semiramis hadn't drained half of my life, I'd be looking even younger!"

The Akharim's warning resurfaced from Nash's memories. That combined with the heavy energy surrounding the area triggered some primitive alarms in Nash's mind.

He knew of the double purpose of the Qi blast. It serves as a deterrent against regular knights from pestering the High Council with their everyday problems, thereby screening the really important ones from the minutiae. It also serves as regular training for the Paladins by keeping them on their toes.

"What really happened between you and Semiramis?" he asked coolly.

"Oh?" Eckard's tone suddenly shifted. Playful. The sound of someone about to brag about their past exploits. "You finally want to know?"

"I've heard the stories. But I wanna hear it from you," Nash replied.

"Well, let's meet up later at Tapswine's after my class then," Eckard said, referring to their favorite pub. Eckard has been less and less on active duty lately and now spends most of his time teaching the recruits. Nash knew the man hated the assignment and longed for action.

"It's gonna be a long story, Son. And I miss Neri," he winked, referring to the voluptuous barmaid.

Nash huffed in response. "I'm telling Mira."

"Nah, I know you won't," Eckard dismissed with a wave. "So, what brought you back so soon, anyway? You're usually gone for at least six months. Now I've seen you twice in less than one."

Nash stopped just before the large doors. Beyond is the hallway that leads to the various offices of the Order. His destination is the one directly straight ahead.

"I need to talk to the High Council," he said.

"Yeah, I figured that out from where you were going and the shift in your Kai," Eckard remarked matter-of-factly. "Question is… why?"

"I faced four Akharim in the past three weeks."

Eckard simply sneered. "I've faced more than that in a week in my heyday."

"Exactly," Nash shot back. "Do you want the world to return to your 'heyday'?"

Eckard's face darkened. Nash already knew the answer. Ten years ago, the fall of House Ellestad marked the end of the Aldren Dominion. And it has been ten years since the Akharim were banished to the northern dark continent.

"Listen," Nash lowered his voice, "the last Akharim told me about the return of Lilith."

"Huh," Eckard snorted, "a load of bull. Lilith is a myth."

"I thought so too, but then he mentioned something about… tendrils of Semiramis."

"Oh," Eckard's expression was unreadable for a while. Then he snapped back after a second with "my class will have to wait then. I'll go with you to the High Council."

Despite his bravado, Nash was relieved by that statement. He openly rebuffs the man and makes it appear that he despises him, but Eckard is still his mentor and provider. He is actually truly grateful for that.

They placed their hands on the heavy doors and braced themselves for a strong push.

A nearby knight saw them, deduced what they were about to do, and immediately raised the alarm. "Wait!" the soldier cried.

"I needed the exercise anyway," Eckard said with finality and together they pushed. The giant stones parted easily and a strong blast of Qi immediately flooded the Atrium.

The change was dramatic. It was like a strong wind blew through the entire Atrium and the once-bustling room was suddenly turned on its head. Some soldiers fainted from the blast after a violent convulsion, their mouths foaming and their irises rolling to reveal only the whites of their eyes. The soldier who raised the alarm was able to brace himself and only slumped to the wall, almost fainting, but hanging by a thread to his consciousness.

Nash was immediately reminded of the Akharim's other taunt. 'If you are what you claim to be, Human, then the Order of Paladins is but a shred of its former glory.' The scene at the Atrium seemed to reinforce that statement.

"Softies," Eckard remarked, rather nonchalantly, as he and Nash proceeded towards the High Council Chambers.