The Writings of a Paladin: Midnight Musings (2/12/05)

MIDNIGHT MUSINGS



It was late, well past midnight, when he walked at last into his rented room above the Fatted Calf tavern - not exactly like being in the comfort of his home, Pantera, but it was a clean and servicable room - not plush, not cozy - just sparsly adequate. He should have retired long ago. He was stronger now, but not yet 100%. He would have a beauty of a scar where the Drow's sword had pierced his abdomen...his fingers unconsciously trailed over the bulk of the bandage beneath his tunic, pressing in lightly, the area still tender where the skin was ripped apart with the almost deadly force....but it mattered little to him; he was not vain. It would be just one more sign that he had cheated death, yet again, that night at Avica, and during the journey home.

But this night, like the nights since returning....well, he just needed the company of others. Something about being that close to death - his own, as well as others he had come to know in Ashford - had created in him the out-of-character need to be in the midst of a teaming, thriving mass of humanity, listening to the laughter and the voices of people whose main concern was who was going to buy the next round. He was aware of a hardness of exterior he sometimes presented to the world - the inclination to be suspicious of everyone he met, as well as his tendancy to keep things locked deep within, that made for a somewhat superficial and seemingly impenetrable shell for the too-soft core he always tried to disguise - and a fairly isolated one, as well. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Well, aye -- and you can do a better job of watching yer own back if you have less to watch! There were times, however, when he sought to be a part of the masses -- when he needed to remind himself he was alive - and human - like everyone else. Tonight had been one of those times.



Three long strides took him across the open area of the room to the small bed where he sat and pulled off his boots, dropping one, then the other, a dull thud resounding as each in turn hit the floor. A hand dropped into the depths of one upturned boot, searching, finding, and pulling out the small blade, fingering it lightly. His eyes flicked down to it, drawn there as the dim light danced along its sharp edge. Indeed, old habits die hard, he thought, a bit of a grim smile upon his face as he pushed the blade underneath his pillow -- the pillow where shortly, with any luck at all, he would soon lay his head.



One thing to do before that.



He had not written in his journal in a long time. Tonight, there were some things he needed to commit to posterity.



***********************



The Lady Keira Elizabeth Ashford has taken her rightful place in history. Her coronation as Duchess and Sovereign of these fair lands has occurred and she is

now duly ensconced in that title, much to the obvious disappointment of several different factions that were apparently working to the contrary. So shall I state in my report to the Duke of Bradenford, my official business for him now hereby concluded with the culmination of events here.

No doubt there are things I should be attending to at Pantera in the near future, causing me to leave these fair lands for a while, but that can be accomplished in an overnight trip, I feel sure. I wonder if perhaps Pywll would grant me a substantial leave of absence from his service, so that I might remain in Ashford for the time being...perhaps I shall put a footnote in my report to him to that effect, for be that as it may, there are several....reasons....I would now have for being able to remain here. And, after all, the years of friendship between the two of us, should account for some measure of favoritism toward me, on his part, I would think. At any rate, I shall ask.

Reasons to stay....aye, were I to list them, they would grow by the day...not the least of which appears to be the undeniable feelings for certain....residents... of Ashford....that I find running as subtle undercurrent to my purpose here. Interesting how the interplay between myself and different personages here continues to develop...there was that chit of a girl, flitting about the Calf, the other eve, troucing between the tables, flirting with every person wearing pants, her blonde curls tossing about like...well, strangely, thinking on the vision of it in my mind's eye brings into view the Lady Keira....and while their looks, now that I think on it, were quite similar, their personalities could not have been more different. But, having gazed upon Keira at length as she took her vows of sovereignty at the coronation, I cannot deny the resemblance to my own relation....and that be the case, if it come to pass, I cannot deny the possible connection of this....was her name Grace, I believe?

And yet a new player, last night at the Calf, a woman of apparent means and definite boldness in her mannerisms, who yet might become an ally and friend, if the Evil Incarnate that we both witnessed does come to pass....such Evil truly I have rarely felt, bone-deep, as what that man, using the term loosely, presented last eve....shortly I must seek out Keira, and others to which he means to do harm, and warn them....to stay away from the likes of him....and black cats, as well!! But...Time having the ultimate steerage of our course...I suppose She will reveal the answers to the questions I pose here, in her own way, if I am fortunate.

Being fortunate....aye, I have had my share of that lately...and were it not for a certain sea-going woman with eyes as deeply green as the oceans she calls home, it is quite likely that I would not be here tonight to write down these thoughts. Indeed, to her, I owe my very existence now...a debt I shall not take lightly, nor forsake. That the Gods placed her in my Path has been fortunate indeed....and I hope they continue to smile upon me so.



***********************



He could write no more. The quill fell from his hand as he realized weariness was now his mistress. He briefly closed his eyes with a sigh and rubbed two fingers along the bridge of his nose between his eyes. The recent assault to his body, along with the shots of scotch in the Calf, and he had lost count of just how many, were taking their toll on him. He flipped the cover of the journal closed and snapped the latch in place. He picked it up, walked to the bed, and shoved it beneath the pillow...fingers inching along until they connected with the cool metal of the dagger that was still in place. He stretched out prone on top of the blanket and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.





~~~ Sir Antonio Sabatier ~~~

First Knight and Diplomatic Liason

to the Duke of Bradenford

The Marquis of Pantera, a.k.a., The Black Panther



"What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within." ~~ Emerson