Almandar had been surprised to receive the letter from Ansreal, the would-be paladin that Lady Tarissa had introduced him to a while ago. In it, she had asked him to meet her at the Silver Crown inn, but not to tell the others. It was a public place, and the woman was a devotee of Pardror, god of chivalry, so there seemed no reason to suspect an ulterior motive. But if so, why the need for secrecy? He had decided to go, of course, but he could not help but wonder what it was all about.
He did not know the Silver Crown very well, although he was aware of its location within the city. It was an expensive inn, catering to wealthy merchants and the like, which he supposed suggested that Ansreal herself might be well-connected. In front of the building was an open courtyard, dotted with tables and chairs around an ornate fountain, and it was there that he found her.
She raised her arm as she saw him arrive, and he waved in acknowledgement as he stepped over to the table, noting that she was alone. She wore the same plain white dress that she had when they previously met, the hemline reaching to her ankles, and the neck open only to her collarbone. It was, he gathered, some sort of uniform, a simple and unadorned costume symbolising the purity and dedication of aspirant paladins.
Unusually for a follower of Pardror, Ansreal was, of course, an elf. Her blonde hair was cut short in a bob, exposing her pointed ears and long neck but, he suspected, chosen more for practicality than looks. Glancing her over, with a slight touch of guilt, he could not help but think that some more colourful or revealing clothes might suit her better. For she was quite attractive, certainly compared with most humans. She was a little on the skinny side, perhaps, but her lips were full, her nose dainty, and her cheekbones high. He could not see her hips clearly from this angle, but the swell of her breasts beneath the white fabric was promising... or would be, were it not for her chosen calling.
"I am glad you could come," she said, as he sat down, "would you like some white wine?" Her elven accent was not so clear as Calleslyn's, suggesting, perhaps, a longer familiarity with the Common tongue.
Almandar agreed, but then insisted on paying. It was after all, likely that he was better off than a squire of Pardror, whose funds must surely be limited until they became full paladins.
"I confess," he said, once the drinks arrived, "that I don't quite know why I am here. Not that it isn't pleasant." He indicated the courtyard, which had only a few other people at this time of the morning, but which was already sunny and pleasingly warm. There was no sign of the rains of a few days ago, which had vanished as quickly as they normally did in Haredil.
Ansreal looked down at her hands for a moment, as if uncertain of what to say, but soon she raised them to him again. "You are an experienced adventurer," she said, "and before too long I will be initiated as a full paladin, undergoing my knighthood ceremonies. It is, as you know, an unusual path for one of my kindred. It is not that I have doubts, for I know the importance of what I am about to do... this world needs protection, and I truly believe that Pardror can provide that. But I do feel that advice would be useful. Of what it is truly like to do what we do... and I think that advice should come not just from my fellow paladins, but from an outsider with similar experience."
Almandar nodded, although it still did not fully make sense to him. It was a reasonable enough request, to be sure, but it could as easily have been asked of Calleslyn, who shared Ansreal's background, or of the both of them together. Although he could understand that she might not find the perspective of Dolrim or Vardala so relevant; neither would have much in common with an elven paladin.
"Of course," he said, taking a sip of his wine, "although I do not know how much I will be able to help. But I will tell you what I can."
"You spend a lot of time out in the wilderness, exploring ancient ruins," she began, "like that forgotten tomb you visited recently. The one with the undead... that must be a difficult life, very dangerous. You must have to rely on each other implicitly."
"Absolutely," he agreed, "there can be no room for doubt. And there is not, because we are all in the same situation. We have saved each other's lives many times over, we almost act together instinctively now. I confess that many adventurers are unsuccessful, but once you have completed a few missions, things become second nature. You know all of your companion's abilities, and how they will react in combat. I am sure you will find the same when you have served with other paladins for a while."
She nodded, "yes, I have no doubt about that. The Church of Pardror is always supportive. But it must still be frightening at times?"
"Certainly. You would not be mortal if you did not feel fear. The important thing is not to let it overwhelm you."
They continued talking in that vein for a little while, about the hardships of life in the wilds, about camping and the sharing of duties, about what it felt like to face terrible monsters. At one point, as he described a wight in what might have been a little too much detail, she shuddered slightly, and, without thinking, he reached his hand across the table to rest it on her own. As soon as he did so, he realised that it might be inappropriate, considering her vocation, but she did not flinch, or even respond. Instead, her slender hand lay there in his as they continued to talk.
He sensed that she was skirting around some more important subject, not truly getting to the real purpose of her meeting. She seemed genuinely curious, but there was something she was not asking. He studied her wide blue eyes, but there seemed no deception in them, perhaps only a little shyness. Feeling the warmth of her hand beneath his own, he wondered if she was interested in him. She had not seemed so when they last met, despite his attempts at flirting, and even now she was giving off mixed signals. Perhaps she did not truly know what she felt herself; the code of a paladin would surely conflict with the easy-going inclinations of most elves.
"What about you and Calleslyn?" she asked suddenly, just as he was about to try and probe deeper into her purpose.
"What about us?" he asked, a little puzzled.
"Well, she is... she is an attractive woman, and you are a young man. You have already said that you spend a lot of time together in the wilds, relying heavily on each other, with no friends beyond your own companions for miles. Doesn't that lead to mixed feelings? I mean, have you and she...?" she left the question dangling.
"No, we haven't," he said, honestly, sensing that this was at last close to her real question. And it might well be one that he could now see she would not want to discuss with her fellows. "And I doubt we ever will. When we first met, it might have been a different story, but we were determined to be professional, and I am glad that we were. Yes, I admit that Calleslyn is attractive; of course she is. But we have fought alongside each other for sufficiently long now that she is more like family than anything else."
"I think of her as I would of a sister. I cannot say it would be the same for everyone, but for me, that comradeship overcomes everything else. I suspect you will find the same for the paladins you work with. Once you have truly faced peril with them, fought side-by-side, you will realise that there are more important things to your relationship than physical attraction. Some adventurers marry each other, so I have heard, with love forged in the heat of battle, but your Church would not frown on that."
"Look... you have served as Sir Larinor's squire for some time. Yet I sensed nothing between the two of you when we last met. He is a handsome man, I would think, but how do you think of him?"
"You are right," admitted Ansreal, yet she did not look much more comfortable than before. "He has been like an elder brother. The training and instruction I have had, the way we work together... yes, you're right, I don't think of him in that way. You think I will be the same with other paladins?"
"I barely know you, so I cannot judge. But I see no reason why it should not be so. The fact that you are concerned about it shows that you can hold your desires in check. And you knew this when joined the Church, when you chose to become a paladin. There are sacrifices required in your vocation that I do not have to make in mine, but I believe you have the strength for them."
He smiled, in a way that he hoped was reassuring. The young elf looked down at the table, instead of meeting his eyes. "You do not look convinced?" he asked.
"Larinor is not..." she blushed slightly, then looked up, watching him intently, pausing for a little while before continuing. "I had a dream a couple of nights ago. About Father Hemboldt."
That, Almandar recalled, was the name of the young cleric who was a friend of Larinor's. It had not occurred to him at the time that the man was particularly handsome, but perhaps the clerical robes had clouded his judgement, and he had hardly been looking much at the male visitors, in any case. He tried to think of something to say, but Ansreal continued before he could frame a response.
"We were fording a river, and we both fell in. We got out onto the bank, which proved easier than it had seemed earlier in the dream. We took of all our wet clothes, and then..." she blushed again, "I should not think of a cleric in this way!" Almandar again tried to think of a reply, but Ansreal continued talking, leaning forward and lowering her voice to almost a whisper. "We were naked, and I was on top of him, and we pleasured each other there on the grass, in the open." She shook her head, "that is why I am worried, because I know those thoughts are wrong for one of my calling. But I could not talk about it with Sir Larinor, let alone Hemboldt himself."
Almandar glanced around, suddenly acutely aware that they were sitting on a table in the sunshine, and that, while the place was hardly bustling as yet, neither were they entirely alone. Anyone could walk past at any moment, and here was Ansreal, an aspirant paladin of Pardror, talking frankly about her sexual fantasies. "I think..." he began, but again she interrupted, seemingly lost in her recollections.
"It was not the first time," she went on, "on another, I dreamt that we..."
Almandar leaned back and put his hand up, "I really think we should discuss this somewhere more private, don't you?"
The elven woman's eyes widened, and she too, leaned back, at last withdrawing her hand from beneath his. She nodded, pulling her chair back from the table rather swiftly, or so he thought. She stood up, glancing about as if nervous, although, fortunately, there was not much to see. She had been talking quietly after all, and he did not think that anyone had yet overheard.
"I have a room here at the inn. We could discuss it there. Put my mind at rest."
"That might well be wiser," he agreed, joining her as they headed to the door.
