Chapter Text
Whenever asked about the stark white enamel coloring of his armor, Sir Simon Riley explained that it was a symbolic representation of a paladin’s honor and virtue; in reality, he appreciated the effect the coloring – combined with his pale complexion – had on other people. To wit: his intimidating look caused people to give him a wide berth.
Simon was always looking for a new angle to keep people at arm’s length.
This was his only personality trait which Simon’s Knight-Instructor, Sir Keegan Russ, stated as an ongoing disappointment. Each anniversary of Simon’s knighting as a paladin, Sir Russ wrote a letter of congratulations. The letter also expressed Sir Russ’ dismay over Simon’s continued reluctance to engage with people. Simon deeply disliked disappointing his Knight-Instructor, a man he held in the highest esteem. On this point, however, they disagreed. I know it's best I keep people away, for their sake and my own. I know it in my bones.
Simon was proud to represent Zampella and to further the causes of honor and justice, but he’d always had difficulty connecting with people. He was honored to carry out any mission given to him by King John, but he preferred missions that involved slaying monstrous beasts or capturing villains and bringing them to trial.
It was now two days before the anniversary of Simon’s knighting. Already in a generally poor mood, these thoughts were on Simon’s mind when he exited a hallway out unto Zampella Castle’s large courtyard – and he walked right into someone, knocking them down. “Watch where you’re going,” Simon said in a gruff tone, speaking into the gray neck gaiter he wore. The growl brooked no arguments. He tried to move on quickly, wanting no human entanglements today, his white cape fluttering imperiously.
“You forget yourself, paladin,” responded a rich, booming voice Simon instantly recognized. Simon’s eyes widened. Bloody hell.
“Knight-Instructor Russ!” Simon stood at full attention as he turned to face Russ, offering a crisp salute, bringing his flat palm over his heart. “Sir, I didn’t mean to –”
“What did I tell you during your training about being nicer to people?” Keegan Russ was currently seated on his own velvet cloak and blue-and-white tabard, glowering up at the towering paladin. “Help me up already, for goodness’ sake, paladin.”
Simon hurriedly and easily hoisted his former instructor upright. “Begging your pardon,” Simon said in a tone that clearly conveyed his regret. “I’ve no excuse for my behavior—”
“You’re correct. Perhaps you’ll remember that the next time you run into someone, you bloody behemoth, and ask if they’re all right before warning them out of your way. Sometimes you’re colder than the winds of Lastlight! Are you in a particularly bad mood today? The first green growths of nature got you depressed? Were you preferring the snow?”
“No, sir.” Simon was chagrined, now once again standing at attention.
“Then you still generally believe you have no use for the average person, and your disdain has escalated to barreling through life, casting people out of your way. Is that it?”
Simon paused for only a second, a bit of anger showing on his face before he quelled it. “No, Knight-Instructor.”
“No to what, paladin? Got something to say to me?”
Simon wondered if the question was a trap. Russ was clearly in instructor mode now, despite no longer having Simon as his pupil. “No, it’s wrong to say I view people that way – that I’ve no use for ‘em.” The insinuation made Simon unhappy. “I don’t feel that, sir.”
“I believe I told you to call me Keegan after you graduated.”
“You outrank me,” Simon pointed out.
“If I outrank you, then you must follow my orders dutifully.” Simon nodded. “Including the order to call me Keegan, and not ‘sir’ or ‘Knight-Instructor’.”
Simon almost groaned. Russ was correct, and he’d walked Simon directly into this little logic trap. “As you say, Keegan.”
“Much better.” Sir Russ chuckled good-naturedly, always magnanimous in victory. “It’s a good thing I … ran into you.” Now, Simon groaned audibly. “I was just meeting with His Majesty King John, and I have your newest marching orders. I was here at the castle on business, and to deliver my letter to you in person this year. Early congratulations on your fourth year as a paladin, Sir Riley.”
Simon nodded once, barely acknowledging it, although his chest was warm with pride. “Cheers,” he said with a huff, although he did raise his chin a few inches.
“You’ve done an amazing job. Your career is impressive. If you’d learn to better engage with people and display more empathy, you’d be perhaps the finest paladin in the realm.” Simon’s head lowered. Don’t think he’ll ever see past that. Keegan put a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Don’t be glum. You are still the finest student I’ve ever instructed, and we are all lucky to have you bringing the virtues of peace and justice wherever your travels take you.”
Simon nodded again. When Keegan said nothing else, Simon said, “Appreciated. I know you wouldn’t say these things unless you meant ‘em.”
“You’re welcome, Simon. Now that you’re entering your fourth year, understand that you have extra responsibilities upon you. You’ll be tasked with assisting newer paladins to solve their problems as well as your own. That will require a higher modicum of understanding and … personality-wrangling than you are used to. And you’ll outrank newer paladins and be required to rein in any ill-conceived actions you see them undertake.” This was one of the reasons for Simon’s bad mood. The idea of having younger paladins subordinate to me, asking me for advice or what not … it’s dread-inducing.
Keegan Russ either didn’t notice Simon’s concern or chose not to address the look on Simon’s face. He produced a gilded envelope from his pocket, sealed. “Here are your orders from the King. You’re to use the map contained herein, which shows the path of a suggested trade route to the Grand Duchy of Highwood. Report back to the Royal Cartographer whether the route indicated is still viable. You are to be peaceful to all you meet, representing the Kingdom of Zampella positively with any of our future neighbors, and utilize diplomacy to solve any problems you may encounter.” Keegan paused. “Let me repeat: diplomacy.” Simon made no reaction and said nothing in response. “D-I-P-L—”
“Bloody hell, Keegan. I know what it is and how to spell it.”
“Then good luck on your mission. Put to good use what I tried to teach you. Even your most basic lessons may have merit during your new task.” Simon frowned, confused. “Please name every paladin’s three duties, Sir Riley.”
Simon knew them by heart and tried to shape his actions to meet the paladin’s code: Be true to yourself, then be true to your cause or your kingdom before all other objectives. Defend those who cannot defend themselves. Speak the truth, using your words to aid others. Simon said the rules aloud, then grumbled: “None of ‘em say, you gotta be friendly with people.”
“Read between the lines, Sir Riley,” Russ said, shaking his head. “You can’t use your words to aid others if you’re being mean to them.”
Simon’s temper reasserted itself. “I’m not mean to people.” Keegan just gave him a look. “Not always, I don’t purposefully try to be mean.” Again, Keegan gazed at him impassively, unconvinced. “It’s not a bloody life goal.” Keegan shrugged once. Ghost angrily adjusted his gaiter, making it cover even more of his face. “All right, all right. I’ll work on it, sir.”
“Promise?” Keegan winked.
Simon drew himself up and held his cape in one gloved hand. “Paladins don’t lie. But if you’re wanting my word, you have it, Keegan.”
“Good luck on your mission, paladin. I bid you safe travels and success.”