"You seriously fucked up my arm, girl," Dirk groaned as he rode ahead of Gwen and Aron on the North Road.
"My name is Gwen Avery, Dirk, not girl," she called in annoyance.
It was a beautiful morning across the Marigold Moor. The grass was sparkling with dew, and the sweet smell of wildflowers was in the air. Dirk had slept away the previous day and the following night as Gwen and Aron watched over him and tended his wound. He was still in a lot of pain as Aron helped him onto his brown stallion, Bruno. He and Moxy seemed to have become close friends as they spent time together in the dilapidated barn. Moxy was easy to like. Her shiny white and gray fur made her look regal. Her manners were gentle and affectionate, a lot like her master. She could also be fierce when needed, just like her master. Gwen smiled as she snuggled against Aron's chest. She could feel his enjoyment of her proximity as a prominent lump pressing against her backside. She would shuffle in the saddle every now and again to provoke a soft groan out of him. She enjoyed teasing him, and she was looking forward to sharing a warm bed with him in Marigold Village.
"Lady Guinevere, then. You fucked up my arm!" Dirk continued with his earlier rant.
"Don't call me that!" Gwen spat in a vicious tone.
Her outburst startled Aron and Dirk.
"Yeesh... I'll shut up now," Dirk grumbled.
"Gwen, what's wrong?" Aron whispered in concern against her ear. Her heart was suddenly pounding, and her muscles were tense. She had the same reaction when she heard the moor wolf howling.
"Nothing," she said quickly, shaking her head.
"That didn't sound like nothing," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her tight against him. "Tell me what's wrong."
She took a deep breath and relaxed against him. She loved and hated how easily he could soften her mood.
"That name scares me," she confessed.
"Why?"
"I... don't want to explain it. That's not my name. That's all," she said dismissively.
Aron squeezed her again and kissed her hair. He knew there was more to it, but he didn't want to press the matter until she calmed down. They were under enough stress with Dirk. He was being defiant as much as possible, but he wasn't hostile. Aron hoped Dirk's mood would improve as his wound healed. Lifting his injured arm would drain the color from his face in seconds. The arrowhead damaged his shoulder joint before it burst out of his skin. The wound would likely cause him pain for the rest of his life. Aron planned to take Dirk to a doctor as soon as they reached Marigold Village. Aron and Gwen promised to take care of him for as long as he needed if he promised to be their ally. He reluctantly agreed. He couldn't even get on his horse without help, so he swallowed his pride and made the smart choice.
"I hate this slower pace," Aron sighed as he pulled the hood of his cloak down to hide his eyes. They were meeting other travelers on the main road as they left the Marigold Moor.
"We can break for the northern woods if we need to," Gwen whispered. "The trees are dense, but Moxy is sure-footed enough to handle it."
"Dirk wouldn't be able to follow us on Bruno," he countered. "His injury limits his motion and balance. He would surely fall if Bruno jumped a root."
Gwen sighed in frustration as she glared at Dirk riding ahead of them. She was angry at him for finding Aron and angry at herself for hurting the obstinate bounty hunter.
"By the way, Aron, I'm not the only one evading questions. You still haven't answered mine. What will The Holy Order do to you if they catch you?" she asked.
She felt him shudder at her question. It made her heart ache for him, but they seriously needed to have the conversation while they were safe.
"Well," he began with a gulp, "I maliciously attacked the highest-ranking paladin in my regiment while we are actively at war. I also helped an aggressor against The Holy Order escape after she instigated the attack on that same paladin general. Those actions make me a war criminal and a traitor worthy of crucifixion."
"What is crucifixion?" she asked.
"They strip you naked and beat you with barbed ropes, then they nail your ankles and wrists to a heavy wooden cross. You hang there in misery until you die."
Gwen felt sick to her stomach after that explanation. The Holy Order was no longer a symbol of hope in her mind.
"That's disgusting. Why would anyone join such a terrible organization?" she demanded.
Aron laughed at her question.
"You think I had a choice? Gwen, a lot of recruits to The Order are fifteen-year-old orphans. That's what I was. I lived in a crowded boy's home in the capital for as long as I can remember. Our caretakers sent us out by day to do hard labor to earn our shelter and food. I was a bricklayer until I turned fifteen. If a boy is big enough to swing an ax at that age, the capital ships them straight to basic training for The Order. It's not a bad deal. I was fed well and cared for by my officers. I felt honored and privileged when I passed the trials with my comrades and became a paladin. I enjoyed my job in spite of the danger. I was paid well. I would have made a small fortune in bonuses after killing five Devil Beasts on my own, but General Barn decided to be a thorn in my side as usual," he said in a spiteful tone.
"You enjoyed your job... and I ruined it for you," she whispered with her throat tight.
"No, Gwen, I don't want you thinking that," he said as he pulled her close and kissed her hair. "General Barn hates me, and he would prove it every chance he got. I was trained by his mentors, and they constantly compared me to the general. That insulted him. Barn is a noble and stems from a long line of honored paladin knights. I was a nameless orphan that beat most of his training records," he admitted with a smirk. "He has always had it out for me. When he caught me comforting you in a less than presentable state, he was determined to ruin me with it. I think he noticed I had also killed five Devil Beasts alone. Thus beating his long-standing record of killing four alone."
Gwen smiled at that bit of information. She was glad Aron had often out-shined the cruel general.
"I'm sorry that man went out of his way to make you miserable, Aron. You are far more honorable than he could ever hope to be," she declared.
"Thank you, Gwen. You are too. Now that you know my story, I would like to hear more of yours. You don't act like a simple farm girl. Potato farming doesn't train you to treat battle wounds," he noted in a suspicious tone.
