For the past week, overcast clouds had smothered the sky. Now the sun shone down on Crystalia Castle. The sunlight glinted off Otto’s armor as he walked across the grass to the dirt-packed grounds of the training yard, subtly trying to stretch out his sore muscles. Gregorro walked along with him, carrying their training gear.
At first glance, Gregorro appeared a slumping, stocky man with short arms. However, anyone who fought the Paladin knew this was nothing but an act. When he wasn’t stooping, Gregorro was a head taller than Otto. His purposefully large training gear made his arms look shorter. That way, whenever someone went to fight him, they were shocked by the reach of his thin blade once he made a lunge. He reminded Otto of a turtle.
“Always pretend you’re less than you are, Otto,” Gregorro said when Otto brought up concerns about his fighting style. “That way, people will always underestimate you.”
“You say that as if it’s hard to do,” Otto said. Being the youngest of the Royal Paladins, he never had to pretend to be less than he was to have people underestimate him.
“You’ve gotten a lot better, though,” Gregorro said. “Yesterday you managed to ward me off for a good minute before I got the first touch.”
Otto nodded and swung his blunted training sword. “To be honest, I’d been fighting with real steels for so long, my mind still feels like any cut you got through might be fatal.”
“A good way to train.” Gregorro laughed, but then shot him a look. “But not just that. Your last quest hardened you; I can tell.”
Otto tried not to wince. It seemed like all the Paladins wanted to talk to him about his latest quest, which was to the Midnight Tower. While this normally would have been embarrassing to Otto, who hated bragging, in this case it was a downright problem. The story of Otto’s quest was a secret, by order of King Jasper himself.
Otto was still unsure if he could obey his king with this order. Sure, not telling his fellow Paladins wouldn’t necessarily be lying, but Otto hated tainting his honor with any sort of dishonesty.
He sparred with Gregorro for an hour in the training yard. Otto skidded on the dirt, trying to stay within the grounds while fending off the quick sword master, his foot nearly touching the surrounding grass several times. The surrounding field was a wide, flat area surrounded by buildings on three sides, one of them Tower of Light, which, by its careful placement and grand architecture, never cast a shadow on the Castle proper.
When they stopped, Gregorro cheerfully said, “Protecting those princesses must have made you extra careful, Otto. I can barely land a touch.”
Otto grinned, panting. “They were protecting me half the time. Princesses Sapphire, Emerald, and Citrine could put many of the Paladins to shame. Princess Sapphire in particular I would want watching my back in a melee.”
“I heard she was good, but that good?” Gregorro stuck out his bottom lip and nodded. “I may have to challenge the heir apparent to a friendly match the next time she visits.”
“Just don’t make a big deal of it.” Otto chuckled. “I’m sure the princess wouldn’t want her sword skills advertised to the entire Castle. If she wins, people might think you were going easy on her, and she wouldn’t want that.”
Gregorro grunted. “You should know by now that, when fighting, I never go easy on my opponent.”
The new bruises on Otto’s arms and ribs could attest to that. It was amusing that he had received more injuries training with Gregorro than he had on his recent quest, though he had Princess Ruby’s magical healing to thank for that. Without her, the Midnight Queen’s terrible pet dragon would have killed him. Thankfully Claire didn’t have to see him in that state. As a Sister of Light, she would have had to help mend his injuries.
They picked up their equipment and headed for the Tower of Light. Entering, they packed away the training gear in the equipment lockers and began their climb to the Council Chamber for the first meeting of the day.
Otto’s bruised knee ached as they began to climb the stairs of the Tower, but he refused to limp in front of Gregorro. Besides, they had a meeting in the Council Chamber. Maybe Claire would have something to ease the pain if it still hurt after the meeting. He smiled at the idea of seeing her.
“Now, what’s that look for?” Gregorro grinned. “Thinking of a girl?”
“I haven’t seen her since I got back,” Otto realized.
“Who?” Gregorro asked.
Otto shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Some secret sweetheart, perhaps?”
Otto’s face burned. Before he could answer, however, they were met by another of their order. Toby was the third-youngest Paladin and, until recently, had only been a squire. Deep down, the young man was a brash and passionate scholar rather than a warrior, an expert in the ways of the Goddess. He strode up to them, his arms half-full of scrolls and a flustered look on his face.
“Ah, good.” He passed several of the scrolls on to Otto and then Gregorro.
“I say, what’s all this?” Otto asked.
“Haven’t you heard?” Toby beckoned with a flick of his head for them to stop walking and move over to the side of the hallway. “Jerald is going to conduct the nominations for the order’s next leader. Naturally, he has given me the task of dealing with all the paperwork. Here we have all of the rules for such an election, and Otto, I think you have the one with all past captains.”
Otto’s good mood disappeared. The last name on this list would be his father.
As captain, his father’s duty had been to give orders from the Castle and distribute quests to the Paladins of his order, selecting them based on his personal knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses. Because captains stuck close to home, Otto had gotten a chance to grow up with his father around. Before his father’s death, Otto had beaten him in many a spar, since the man’s skills were a bit rusty from all his time in the Castle. But he’d been an excellent captain. He’d had a talent for spotting skills in the Paladins that they themselves didn’t know they had. The Paladins had blossomed under his leadership, defeating evils in many parts of the world.
When Otto and the princesses had returned from their recent quest, the Castle felt empty without his father’s presence. Otto had bid his father farewell knowing that he might not return from the Midnight Tower, but he’d never imagined that his father would be the one to not survive. Whatever spell the Midnight Queen had cursed him with, not even the Well of Weal and all of the priestesses with their healing magic could save his father. And now the Paladins were leaderless without their captain.
Otto hadn’t realized that’s what this meeting would be about.
“But why do we need all this?” Otto insisted. “Surely all you need is a piece of paper and pencil. Heck, if we raised our hands to vote for this person or that person, we could have it out of the way.”
“You don’t understand!” Toby said. “You entered the order only a year ago and haven’t had to go through one of these.”
Otto was about to point out there hadn’t been an election for the last twenty years and that Toby hadn’t been around for the last one either, but he decided to keep his mouth shut so that Toby could finish quickly.
“The election of a new captain for our order is taken very seriously,” Toby continued. “There must be at least three nominations, and the one elected must have the majority of the votes for it to count.”
“This is true,” Gregorro said. “I remember lots of discussion during the last election. Your father was the sure thing, no question. Jerald was one of the candidates too, but most assumed he was simply a placeholder in the election. Emelia certainly was. There was no way either of them would have come out on top over your father—though Jerald has always been ambitious enough to try.”
Jerald, his father’s second-in-command, had never really liked Otto. He always hinted that Otto had been brought into the order too young, that the only reason he had been allowed in was because of his father, no matter what he did to prove himself. Even at Otto’s father’s funeral, Jerald’s mustache had twisted in dissatisfaction when his eyes landed on Otto. If Jerald became the new captain of their order, he could keep Otto away from the most important fights.
“Jerald doesn’t intend to be a placeholder this time.” Toby settled the scrolls under one of his arms and gestured for them to begin walking again.
“Then the vote will be between Jerald and Emelia,” Otto said. Emelia, one of the eldest Paladins, would likely be a strong candidate.
Toby shook his head. “The Paladins have always tried to avoid a schism that breaks the order into two factions. To make sure there is no bad blood, a third option is always available just in case a majority cannot be reached.”
“Sounds unnecessarily complicated,” said Otto.
Toby rolled his eyes and continued down the hall. “Well, we all must vote. It’s an obligation as a member of the order.”
“I generally don’t,” Gregorro murmured to Otto.
They followed Toby down the hall to the Council Chamber. Otto had spent plenty of time in the chamber, but he hadn’t been back since his father’s death. The room was large, mostly filled with a giant marble table ready to hold one hundred Paladins, their squires, scribes, and equerries. But it was currently half empty.
Otto took his seat near the far end, where his rank dictated. Although his last quest had raised him past Toby in the pecking order, Otto still wasn’t up among the veterans. Though Toby wasn’t either, he still made his way up to the head of the table where he would be in Jerald’s service holding the scrolls.
The others came in slowly, filling up the table with the Paladin’s decimated ranks. The recent fighting at the Nether Rifts had cost the lives of many men and women, far more than just Otto’s father. Less than a week ago, they had held the funeral for all those missing from the table. It was tradition that their dead be burned so that no evil spirit could possess their bodies. As Otto had stood at the side of the pyre and watched the fire lick the hay his father lay on, he knew that it would be the last time he would see his face.
Now Otto looked into the faces of the remaining Paladins, wondering who would be clamoring to take his father’s place, wondering who would be supported.
Finally, Jerald arrived. He was a lean man with short hair and a generally stern expression. As the previous leader’s second, it would be his job to make the announcement. He entered along with Andrea and Toros, two of those Otto was sure would be pining for second-in-command. Toros had olive skin and craggy features. Andrea was dark haired, and Otto didn’t think he had ever seen her out of her armor, or without that smug grin. As the previous captain’s second-in-command, they knew Jerald was their safest bet and so they stuck near him like sycophants. However, their loyalties would shift quickly to another nominee if they were shown to be the stronger candidate.
Andrea and Toros sat down on either side of Jerald, who didn’t sit, but instead waited for everyone else to take their seat and be silent.
“Last week, we mourned the loss of a great captain of our order, one of the greatest Paladin leaders we have had in many centuries,” Jerald began at last. “But with his passing comes a passing of the torch to another leader, and to do that, an election must be held.”
Otto’s father would have been embarrassed by Jerald’s dramatic words. Otto had never understood why his action-driven father had chosen such a wordy man to be his second.
Jerald clicked his finger, and Toby snapped into motion, gathering two of the scrolls in his arms and passing one over.
“On this list, we have the name of every member of the order.” Jerald paused and studied the scroll for a moment. “These numbers can’t be right. Toby, did you not update it after the last battle?”
Toby frowned, but then his mouth made an “O” before he was scrambling with another piece of parchment. He handed it to Jerald. “Sorry, this one’s newer, sir.”
Jerald opened it and nodded. “There are fifty-three Paladins still with us, over two dozen of whom are still out on quests.” He then took his sword and scabbard off his belt, placing them on either side of the unrolled scroll as paperweights.
“Now we will take nominations for the election. As you no doubt have guessed, I will be nominating myself for this position. Having been our leader’s second-in-command for so many years, I have the most experience. That leaves two other candidates that must be voted on.” Jerald pulled out a quill and Toby placed a stoppered bottle of ink next to him. “Each of you will come up and vote for your chosen candidate to race against me by putting a dash next to their name.”
Everyone grumbled and nodded.
“Good, then come one at a time. You don’t all have to come up at once.”
Otto let out a breath. Jerald’s announcement had been about as self-centered as he had expected.
Otto’s father had been trusted by the Paladins, the king, and all of Castletown to keep their city safe from the Dark Consul. Jerald, with all his bluster and his grudges, was not the right fit for such an important position. Nevertheless, all Otto could do to stop him was to plan on voting for the name that already had the most dashes next to it. He stayed seated with Gregorro, waiting until everyone else had put forward their votes.
Other Paladins played a similar waiting game, but they ran out of patience before Otto did and groaned as they rose to vote. When he and Gregorro were the only ones remaining to cast their votes, Otto rose and made his way over to Toby. As he approached, Toby gave him a confused, almost stunned look, his jaw hanging nearly to the table.
Otto frowned and gestured for him to pass the quill, when there was a knocking at the door to the hall.
The Paladins murmured and looked around, wondering who could have been missing from the meeting. However, when Jerald left the table and opened the door, it wasn’t a Paladin that walked through but the tall, red-cloaked seneschal.
The man was covering his mouth with a red handkerchief, and a fishy smell from the doorway made Otto wrinkle his nose. As the seneschal spoke to Jerald, his own scrunched-up face opened in shock. He hissed something back, voice snapping like a whip.
The seneschal looked around the room and seemed to notice Otto standing at the head of the table. He studied him curiously as he responded to Jerald’s sharp whispers. Jerald’s eyes grew wide, but then he rolled them and nodded. “Hmmph, very well.”
And that seemed to be the end of the matter.
The seneschal stepped back through the doorway, and Jerald closed the door to the chamber. He strode over to the parchment and snatched the quill from Otto’s hands, throwing it down on the marble and leaving ink marks on the table.
“The seneschal has delivered the news that the king has decided to cast his own vote in the nomination, and as it’s been the case for hundreds of years, one of the king’s votes is worth five of ours.” Jerald made five slashes on the nomination sheet.
Otto had to take a second look. There had been five votes in one row already, but now there were ten. The new slashes made the row nearly as long as Jerald’s.
However, it wasn’t the number of votes that struck him as shocking, but the name the slashes were next to. It was Otto’s own.
“Oh, would you look at that.” Gregorro picked up the quill from where Jerald had thrown it down on the marble. “It seems the only person who’s been underestimating you is yourself.”
And saying this, he put yet another vote next to Otto’s name.