And Justice for All
The lone traveler gently kneed his horse downhill towards the bridge, moving at a comfortable jog trot. His armor was stained, his mantle far from its pristine white, his mount tired. His silver hair was covered with dust from the travel, and even though he longed for a bath and some rest, he could not afford to stop so far from the Gate, not yet. He had too many matters that required his attention. He had to prepare for the final battle against his nemesis, of course...that would come soon enough. In addition, there was the troubling, sad story his old friend Celduil told him. Then, there was this "Trickster", a very real threat for what he had witnessed...he contemplated the chance of another meeting with Sir Aaron Lyonaler, Knight General of the Silver Rose, in order to come up with a plan to stop the entity's nefarious actions before he could strike again. He remembered the eerie words of the man called Aiden Vega, and he wondered if Lady Lafayette had been healed, at last...He had left a message for Priest Santraeger (he was extremely busy with a delicate matter inside the Gate's Temple, and he dared not disturb him), as she asked him to do when he helped her to her quarters, finally cared for by the trusted Radiant Heart men in the safety of their stronghold.
He noticed the glint again, and this time he did not dismiss it so easily.The moonlight was reflecting on something in the low vegetation nearby the river banks. At first, he had thought it was on water, but now he was closer, and not so sure anymore. The bridge was only few strides away, and he could now make out the shapes of four men idly chatting on the side of it while fishing. He heard a faint wooden crack on the other side of the road, fairly typical in the wilderness, most of all at night. Then, he gave a second glance to the fishermen on the bridge, narrowing his purple eyes. He sighed heavily, as he put his full helm on, lowering his visor as he neared the group. Fishermen without a camp, nor any source of light, however faint. Fishermen on a hard, paved bridge when they could comfortably sit on the riverbank's grass. Fishermen that seemingly had nothing to eat, nor a basket to store the fishes they had supposedly come to catch...
He slowly, tiredly dismounted as one of them casually moved to intercept. "Good eve, traveler...nice weather for a little adventuring, to be sure" the man smiled. His missing tooth, broken nose and facial scars were telling his story more than a thousand words. The lone knight nodded politely, as he replied "Oh, I would not know...I do not seek adventures, I am merely traveling towards the Gate" his purple gaze locked onto the man's, who averted his eyes as he smiled "Well...I would warn you, stranger: to ride alone like this, at night, with all that expensive equipment of yours...tch, tch, tch...very dangerous stuff in this gods-forsaken, brigand-infested lands..." the man patronizingly shook his head. The steel-clad individual smiled inside his full helm, that concealed all but his eyes in an impenetrable mask: "Yes...yes, I am certain. And I trust your fishing would improve with a better place to sit, something to eat and some fishbait. I surely never fished in my life...but neither have you".
The man's smile faded, and he adopted an offended posture: "Ah, now I am insulted! I was just trying to relieve you of some items that would make you a target for cutthroats and other less than recommendable folk...you know what? I am just going to help you anyway, despite your manners. MEN!" As he shouted, two crossbowmen per side came out of the bushes behind him (the mysterious glint finally revealed, he thought with a tired smile). His three companions dropped the fish rods, and extracted assorted weapons of various shape and form. "Start dropping your sword and belt, begin unstrapping your armor and dont even think about trying to reach for your horse or shield...".
The surrounded knight flexed his neck's and shoulders' muscles as he replied in a blank tone: "I am not going anywhere. As for dropping my sword...I do not think I will. I suppose you failed to recognize who I am, and what I represent. Before we begin, I have a question for you: what gives you the right to defy the law, and prey on the innocents?". All the rather unelaborate pretence gone, the bandit sneered, venting his rage as his companions chuckled all around: "Ohh, look at this! What do we have here...a Knight!! Hey, revered Sir Lord Gracious, His Highness, this is the real world: do you know why we are here? BECAUSE OF YOUR BLOODY LAW!! We were in the Fist during the war between Baldur's Gate and Amn. We risked our flaming lives, we have seen our friends gutted and we bled for little coin. And how did we get thanked? With a kick in the ass right after the end of it!! "Oh, I am sorry you left your fields and brought your families here...our coin is a lil' short. Goodbye, filth, get a life!". My wife and kids eat worse than your horse does. HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT JUSTICE?". His companions nodded, hatred in their eyes.
The Paladin looked towards him for a moment before replying: "How many?" as the outlaws stared at him without understanding, he continued "How many corpses did you throw down this bridge? How many of those had families, who counted on them for sustenance, who suffered for them, who loved them? What part did they have in your misery?". Before anyone could reply, he drew his longsword out of its scabbard with a low, angry metallic sound, its blade surrounded by pure white light, almost alive...almost sentient. "I will give you a choice. Come with me for a fair trial, and I will have the Church of Tyr take care of your families. If you force me to kill you, I will never be able to track them and help them. This is your last chance to make the right call...do not waste it." A crossbow bolt hit his armored shoulder a heartbeat after his last word.
Breathing heavily, Aelcar Lightbringer, Knight Templar of Tyr belonging to the Order of the Merciful Sword took his full helm off and tossed it on the ground, as he cleaned his blade on a rug tied to his saddle. All around him were the fallen bodies of seven brigands, laying in pools of their own blood. His left shoulder had been pierced by a bolt, and he could hardly feel the arm itself. His right flank was bleeding rather copiously exactly where the plates of his armor joined, and his left hand's bones had probably broken in the impact in which his armored fist had crushed their mage's skull right before he was able to cast his spell.
He slowly mounted Cloud once again, a grunt escaping his lips. Of course, he could have employed his healing powers to close the wounds and relieve himself of fatigue. Instead, he let himself bleed, feel the pain, the exhaustion. It would have been easy to dismiss what happened as fair and just. But he wanted to remember their story, to suffer.
Not because they deserved it...because if he did not, nobody else would.
