The murmurs of the crowd were a welcome relief to Darius as he sat in the corner, his greatsword leaning against the wall beside him. The rest of the tavern seemed boisterous enough, the occupants receiving plenty of attention from the serving girl. He, however, had received only a single glare upon his request for water. Perhaps he should have ordered some ale along with his bread to win her over, but he would not pretend to nurse a drink forbidden to him. He was a dark paladin of Karak, and lost faith or not, he would still act like it.

“To Kaide!” one of the bigger men shouted, raising his glass. The rest took up the cry and then drank.

The name was familiar enough to Darius, though he wondered what the man had done to earn such drunken admiration. No doubt he’d filled their pockets with coin. Such lawless men in the North, they wanted money, alcohol, and women. Give them any of the three, and you were a better god than Karak or Ashhur would ever be…

“Temaryn, come to join us in our merriment?” called out someone at the bar.

Darius glanced at the door, and he felt his heart jump. Dressed in the black platemail of his order was another paladin, a longsword sheathed at his thigh and a heavy shield on his back. His hair was long and brown, perfectly matching his hazel eyes. Darius recognized him at once.

“Bloody Abyss,” he muttered, looking for a way out of the tavern.

“You know I can’t,” Temaryn called back, approaching the drunkard with a grin on his face. “But I hear the mad thief left a pot of gold at our doorsteps. I take it every lesson I have ever taught will soon be thrown to the swine?”

“Course not!” said the drunk. “You’ll get your share of tithes, but until then, we’ll drink ourselves… hey, what’s the matter?”

Temaryn was no longer paying him the slightest attention. Darius sighed and waved the other dark paladin over. His elbow bumped his greatsword, tilting it so the hilt lay across his lap. Just in case he couldn’t talk his way out…