***
Arthaxiom arrived at his destination. The entrance of the cave was here. It was big. Really, really big. It gave some clue about how large the beast living inside could be. Somewhere along the lines of biting the paladin in half. Arthaxiom wasn't worried at all. Considering whether he can defeat the beast or not didn't even cross his mind. He knew that he could. It was a part of being a Hero.
The paladin briefly considered rushing into the cave with his sword drawn. He decided against it. In front of the cave there was a nice big glade. It would do well as a site of an epic battle. Now, to get the monster out... Fortunately, the hermit had told him what kind of beast guarded the sword.
"I, paladin Arthaxiom the Great, Deliverer of Light, Slayer of Evil and Wicked, Guardian of the Ancient Secret of the Holy Mysterious Summoning of the Mythical Archpegasus, Apostle of the Rainbow Sturgeon, Holder of the Hidden Antique Malodorous Anvil of Ancient Knowledge, Thirty-ninth Warrior of the Joyous Beige Dragon, Crushing Flame from the Eerie Enchanted Eastern Island, Turquoise Spearman of Heavens, Sword of Justice in the Gloom of Uncertainty, challenge you, the Eight-and-a-half-headed Minotaur Dragon, Terror of Abdynyfyland, Defenestrator of Goats, Devourer of Cows, Pigs, Horses, Donkeys, Geese, Meese, Turkeys, Aardvarks and Pineal Glands to a battle to death, without pardon nor remorse!" Arthaxiom shouted and bent himself in half from the effort. Now he awaited a snarl, a roar, he expected the ground to shake and the magnificent beast to come out to face him, with its eyes blazing, with smoke coming out of its seventeen nostrils...
"Jeffrey's not home, sorry!" a response came from the cave. It didn't sound like a voice of the mighty Minotaur Dragon.
"Excuse me?" the paladin asked, confused a bit.
"I said that Jeffrey's not home. He's on holiday. Probably devouring some aardvarks right now." The owner of the voice emerged from the cave. It was a rather short humanoid, maybe a half of the paladin's height, clad all in spring green. He was thin, with short dark hair. He had a sling tucked behind his belt and a trident strapped to his back. He obviously wasn't the Eight-and-a-half-headed Minotaur Dragon, nor any other kind of dragon. And he was waving his hand cheerfully for no good reason.
"The Minotaur Dragon's name is Jeffrey?!" Arthaxiom was surprised by that. He was surprised by very many things in this situation, but this one surprised him the most. He simply didn't feel that Jeffrey was a proper name for a fearsome beast.
"Well, no, not really. But it takes 15 minutes to say his real name, and last time he tried that, I almost drowned in spittle."
"Ah, right." The green fellow's explanation made some sense. "Well, who are you then?"
"I am Alexander the dwarf. I'm Jeffrey's temporary replacement."
"A dwarf?!" The paladin was even more confused.
"Yes, a dwarf. What, can't you recognise a dwarf from not a long way away?! Am I too tall?"
"Well, no, but... you have no beard," Arthaxiom explained apologetically. "And you are quite thin. And you are not wearing armour. Also, no axe. And the name..."
"All right, all right!" Alexander interrupted. "Yes, it's all true! Do you think that every dwarf is a stout short dude with a beard, who hangs around wearing armour, brandishing an axe, drinking a lot of beer and looking for a fight?"
The paladin scratched his helmet with his gauntlet. "Uhm... yes. Yes I do."
"Erminous stereotypes!" The dwarf was quite irritated by not being considered to be dwarfy enough. "I don't do any of these, and I'm still a dwarf! I wear green clothes, I'm thin, I don't drink beer, I shave my beard regularly, and I don't carry an axe! I have a trident instead." He demonstrated his trident and gave it a spin.
"Uhhh... do you have a bow too, maybe?" Arthaxiom asked doubtfully.
"Don't be ridiculous!" the dwarf scolded him. "Did a swamp owl eat your brain? I am way too short to use a bow properly. But I have a sling!"
Alexander crouched, dropped his trident, grabbed a stone from the ground, took out the sling from behind his belt and shot the stone at the paladin. The stone hit his helmet with a clang.
"You do indeed," Arthaxiom commented.
"And I'm pretty good with it." Another stone hit the paladin's helmet.
"Yes, I see. You can stop now," the paladin suggested, but yet another stone flew towards him.
"Three in a row!" the dwarf exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Stop that!"
"Sorry, I got carried away," Alexander apologised.
"All right. Shall we now have an epic battle for the Shining Slaughtering Sword of the Silver Sun?" the paladin asked.
"Oh, there's no need to do that! You want that old piece of junk? Wait a second, and I'll get it for you!" The dwarf ran back into the cave. Arthaxiom felt strangely disappointed and unsatisfied. It was so long since he had a chance to prove his skills! The ogres ran away, the Eight-and-a-half-headed Minotaur Dragon went on holiday... But wait! Maybe that dwarf has no intention of giving him the sword! Maybe right now he is activating the most devious traps ever designed, releasing dangerous monsters, hiding behind secret doors...
"I'm back!" the dwarf shouted, waking Arthaxiom up from his daydream, in which he was currently jumping over a chasm (in full armour of course) while slicing a giant bat in half in mid-flight. "Here you go. The Shining Slaughtering Sword of Some Silly Esses." He gave the sword to the paladin and took a note out of his pocket. "Wielder of this sword will not hold the manufacturer liable in case of self-inflicted injuries, and also in case of having the sword taken away from him slash her and then getting injured with it," he read. "Avoid contact with acid, lava and goblin urine. Warranty void if the blade is separated from the hilt. Best to clean with alluring amaranth algae."
Arthaxiom didn't pay attention to any of that. He threw away his old sword and held the shining blade, admiring its beauty. Then he took off his helmet and knelt on the ground.
"I thank thee, gods, for this mighty weapon!" he prayed. "I thank thee, Mythical Archpegasus, for leading me faultlessly to my destination! I thank thee, Rainbow Sturgeon, for giving my arms strength and my heart courage, so that I did not falter or doubt myself! I thank thee, Joyous Beige Dragon, for giving me wisdom and knowledge required to complete my holy task!" When the prayer was finished, he kissed the blade of the Shining Sword. Alexander grimaced in disgust.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said. "Jeffrey used it as a toothpick."
Arthaxiom's eyes suddenly went wide and his face turned green. The dwarf watched with amusement as the paladin dropped the sword and ran towards the nearby bushes.
***
The village of Purpledonkey was very similar to Stinkybadger. The main difference was a presence of a dead donkey instead of a dead badger. The donkey stank no less than its counterpart, but additionally it was dyed purple. Vannard came to a conclusion that colour overrides smell when it comes to village signs. Also, since apparently such signs were common in this region, he briefly regretted that he wouldn't be visiting Hornygoat. That one's sign could be most peculiar.
Luckily for both parties, the mayor of Purpledonkey didn't insist on small talk. Even more luckily, he had information about the paladin.
"Some armoured guy visited our local inn one day. Rambled about holy quests and such."
That could be him, all right. But not necessarily. Vannard had no idea if armoured guys rambling about holy quests were a common occurrence in these parts.
"Did he say what was that quest was?"
"He wanted to destroy a goblin village and visit a seer. After that he was going to defeat some sort of evil empire. He asked us to help him with that."
That had to be him. The assassin was surprised and even somewhat impressed. He had no idea how Ducky could have known that the paladin was here. Then again, he himself might have guessed it too, if only he had thought about it and had proper information and... something else maybe...? In any case all this thinking was boring and going nowhere.
"And what was the answer?"
"Some told
him to get lost," the mayor replied. "Some asked how much he paid. The rest were too drunk to notice him at all. He called us wretched, cowardly peasants and went away."
"Ah. Most interesting. Where did he come from?"
"He came by the road from Sillysquid. Left straight through the field, leaving a trail in corn, that scamp!"
And now... time for distraction. Vannard had a bit more experience with that this time. "Was he by any chance followed by a flock of beavers?"
"Uh... no, I don't think so. But maybe... he left them outside, hiding in the darkness?"
"Maybe," Vannard agreed. "Or maybe he is not the person I am looking for. But if I were you, I'd check all the wooden beams in the village. Especially those holding up houses. If you see a beaver, kill it with fire. They are vicious. And now I must leave."
He left the mayor a bit scared and rather heavily confused. Overall, the visit to Purpledonkey went quite well. He acquired some information about the paladin, he avoided small talk and he distracted the mayor. Too bad that these peasants failed to put their own village on fire. Maybe beavers were not scary enough, or too esoteric.
What Vannard didn't know was that he had started a new rural legend. From now on, old peasant women of Purpledonkey would scare children with tales about a mysterious knight who comes at night, surrounded by beavers. Beavers who chew off legs of naughty children. Needless to say, the children were less than impressed and the old women made themselves look sillier than usual. The legend died after a week.
***
Alexander waited patiently while the paladin was emptying his stomach. Finally, Arthaxiom emerged from the bushes. He wasn't looking too well. "I should have cleaned it before kissing it," he stated.
"Famous last words," Alexander replied. The Hero gave him a dirty look.
"By the way, why do you need that sword?" the dwarf asked, just to change the topic. "Just between us, it's awfully unwieldy, you know. And that ornamental hilt... I stabbed myself in the hand with it a couple of times. It's not practical. What's it shaped like, some kind of weirdo eagle?"
The paladin examined the hilt. Indeed, it looked like some strange avian creature. The creature seemed to have a few wings too many. Tips of its feathers were sharp, a danger for an unwary wielder. Arthaxiom had no idea what the creature was. "It is no weirdo eagle, silly dwarf! It is shaped like the magnificent Mythical Archpegasus!"
The dwarf didn't feel all that silly for not recognising a creature he had never heard about. "Are you sure about that?"
"Well, no, but it is logical. My new Heroic sword cannot have a 'weirdo eagle' as a hilt, can it?"
"I don't know? Can it?"
"Of course it cannot! Do you not know anything?"
"I don't know much about heroic swords and weirdo eagles," Alexander admitted.
"It is Heroic. With capital H," Arthaxiom corrected. "It is not a plain chunk of steel with a pointy end, like my old sword. It does not have a weirdo eagle as a hilt. It has the Mythical Archpegasus as a hilt! It is shiny! It has a glorious name! Truly a weapon for a Hero."
"So you came all the way here for this sword just because it is pretty and has a name?"
"No! Well... yes," the paladin admitted. "It is a Heroic thing. I am supposed to use it."
"Ah. Suit yourself. But I wouldn't say it looks menacing or anything. You think it's any good in a fight?"
"Of course it is! It has a name and a hermit pointed me towards it!"
"Ah. Right. Silly me indeed."
"I see you finally get it," Arthaxiom said. He didn't spot the sarcasm. Heroes as a rule aren't good sarcasm spotters.
"So now that you have the sword, what are you going to do?"
"I will wield the Shining Slaughtering Sword of the Silver Sun and continue on my mission to defeat the Empire of Evil in order to bring peace, justice and freedom to the world! And I surely will commit many lesser Heroic deeds on the way! Will you join me? Future generations will compose poems about our quest! And sing about us at the campfires! And..."
"All right, all right, I get the idea!" the dwarf interrupted. "I'll join you, why not. I was getting bored of guarding this cave anyway. Since the sword is no longer there... Actually, only now I'm beginning to realise how stupid this whole thing was!"
"Why?" the paladin asked. "Guarding an artefact in a cave for a Hero to come and acquire it after a glorious battle makes a lot of sense."
"Yes, it does. If you are a Hero," Alexander replied. "If you are a guardian, not so much."
"I do not think I see what you mean."
"I was just sitting there, waiting for someone to come and kill me. Crappy job if you ask me. Can't imagine doing it full time."
"Someone has to."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why? You cannot have undefended artefacts just lying around! Anyone could simply take them!"
"But they don't. Jeffrey told me he had no visitors for the last few centuries or so."
"But he could have!"
"But he didn't!"
"But he could have!"
"But he didn't!"
"But imagine if he was not here and someone came and took the sword!"
"You just did. Your point?"
This conversation wasn't going well. The paladin helplessly looked at his sword. Then at the dwarf. Then at his sword again. Then at the dwarf again. "But I was supposed to!"
"So it's okay if you take the sword, but not okay for anyone else?"
"Yes! No! I mean, it is not desirable to have an artefact undefended, but since I am a Hero, I would have claimed it anyway..."
"Yeah, right," the dwarf muttered. He didn't feel like elaborating on the fact that even Jeffrey's half-head's mouth was big enough to eat Arthaxiom in one bite.
"...and I cannot be blamed for the fact that the guardian was absent and his replacement was unwilling to fight."
"Because I'd end up dead and you'd get the sword anyway!"
"While that is undoubtedly true, I really cannot applaud the lack of effort."
"And yet you want me to come with you?"
"You do not look a gift sidekick in the mouth."
"Hey, I think something got stuck in my teeth. Could you take a look?"
"Of course." Arthaxiom bent over and took a peek into the dwarf's open mouth.
"Aha! See? You do look a gift sidekick in the mouth!"
"You tricked me! This is no time for that!"
"There is always time for a good joke."
"Not when we have a quest to fulfil! Onwards and forwards!"
"Oooh, we're going to have so much fun together! A quest! Oh dwarf oh dwarf oh dwarf!" Overexcited Alexander was jumping up and down as he followed the Hero on the path to fame and glory.
***
Sillysquid was a proper town. Not a big one, but definitely a town, not a village. It had a proper town square, and a proper statue of a squid. There wasn't anything especially silly about it, maybe apart from its facial expression. Also, the nearest sea was quite a long way away. Any squid found around here would be very silly indeed.
The town didn't have a mayor. It had a lord. He was not a terribly important lord, but a lord nonetheless. Lord Seagull Sassysnake was his name, which irritated him quite a bit. It was hard to be taken seriously when one introduced himself as Seagull Sassysnake, Lord of Sillysquid. At least he wasn't a Squire of Sillysquid. It would have made matters even worse.
Lord Seagull lived in a house located next to the town square. It was easy to spot, because it was a lot bigger than other houses. Almost like a half of a castle. Admittedly the smaller half, which was nibbled on a bit, and slightly spoiled from one side too. Maybe closer to a quarter of a castle, but still impressive, at least by Sillysquid standards. Vannard wasn't impressed. He went right in.
He was in a hallway. There were multiple doors there, and also stairs leading upwards. Nobody in sight. He looked around. The hallway was completely unremarkable apart from a few works of art. Any lord's house must have a few of
those. So there was a sculpture of a man holding a spear in a curious way, a painting of a man holding an eagle bigger than himself, an offensively pink and rather misshaped vase, a painting of a five-legged dog brutalising a three-legged hare... Vannard was no art connoisseur, but even he knew something was wrong with some of these. Probably decent artists were hard to find around here.
Since nobody appeared to either greet him or chase him away, the assassin considered his next move. An obvious idea would be to shout, but he was against shouting as a rule. Shouting was not assassiny. He decided to explore on his own. Going upstairs was a logical choice, because the stairs were covered with some sort of red material. Covering stairs with a red material was something lords often did, although Vannard never understood why. In his experience, bloodstains were less visible on red than, let's say, white, but he doubted that was why the lords liked it.
He went upstairs. There were multiple doors. He selected the most lordly-looking. It had a handle shaped like a lion. A lion with a facial expression suggesting violent stomach problems. He entered. The room he was now in contained a clerk sitting at a desk and two guards guarding another door. This suggested that this door led to the lord's chambers.
Vannard assessed everyone in the room as non-threatening. The guards were rather large, but guarding in their particular case consisted of sitting on the floor and playing some sort of a board game, while their halberds were lying on the floor next to them. The clerk was a small, thin man. There were stacks of papers in front of him. He seemed to be totally absorbed by scribbling something on yet another piece of paper. A very typical clerk. Vannard had seen many like him before. Their existence seemed a bit pointless to him. Filling papers was all they did. What are papers good for? The only use for them he knew of was to make paper cuts, and he had always preferred to cause more deadly injuries.
Neither the guards nor the clerk appeared to notice Vannard, maybe because he didn't make much noise, or maybe they just didn't give a newt. It didn't bother him, but he had things to do, so he decided to announce his presence.