by Bill Ricardi
The minotaur reached into his pack and produced a sky blue tabard. He slid the piece of cloth over his head. When it came to rest, I saw the religious symbols. Thanks to my recent studies, I was able to put two and two together.
“You’re a paladin.” I murmured in disbelief.
The large bull man flashed me a bright smile. “Indeed I am, aren’t you so very observant? Aro-Remset be praised. I will tell you all about myself on the trip, if you would do me the courtesy of doing the same. Time on the road can be long without tales told and souls bared.”
“Of course, I’d be happy to swap tales with you.” I said without hesitation. I’m not certain if it was his enthusiasm, or his upbeat demeanour, or simply the novelty of the situation... but being around Toby simply felt good. It helped that the huge creature was instantly accepting of me. I had heard tales that a paladin could see into your heart if he wished, and find any evil intent. If that held true, whatever he saw in my heart didn’t upset him at all. I suppose that was a relief even to myself.
Just then, there was a powerful cry from outside, “All gather! Instructions from the caravan master!”
The minotaur untied the peace knot on his massive broadsword, slung his backpack, and hefted his shield. “It’s time.” was all he said before leading the way out of the tent. I pulled up my hood, donned my gloves, and followed.
The caravan master was a short, balding man who looked like he had seen all manner of businessman, adventurer, and monster that this world had to throw at him… and he didn’t care for any of them. Wearing a permanent scowl, the salt and pepper bearded gent could be seen pacing in front of the lead wagon. When he figured everyone was here, he started to bellow.
“We have a few new people on this trip, so listen up! I’m saying this once, then I expect you to do your damned job. In the rear wagon, we’ve left space for our two archers. They got pointy ears, you can’t really miss them. The two middle wagons have our complement of front line fighters, so if we circle the wagons in an emergency, one of you drops out every couple of seconds so we have decent coverage all ‘round. In the second wagon, we have our three mages, protected by this large piece of beef with horns.”
I glanced around. I spotted the two elves, keeping to themselves near the very back of the gathering. The fighters were mostly in heavy leathers or light chainmail. All of them had swords or axes, and a couple of them also had wicked looking crossbows. They were a fairly well equipped crew.
The caravan master continued. “If anyone sees anything fishy, you should shout out ‘Danger’ and the direction. The more eyes we got on it, the quicker we figure out what it is. Do your shouting in Common, ‘cuz I don’t speak Entish. If anyone gets hurt, and that means guards or civies, medical supplies are in the center wagon. One of our non-combatants, Sister Janet, will try to make you not die. If you die we’ll drop your body and all of your crap off at the endpoint designated in your contract. Questions?”
Rick called out, “Miles, what’s the loot protocol for anything stupid enough to be killed by us?”
The man nodded curtly, “If we’re running, leave all of their crap behind and get your asses back to your wagons. If we’ve stopped, drag everything into one big pile. I’ll manage the loot order, and arrange for the bodies to be burnt. Anything left that I think I can sell, I’ll buy at wholesale discount and you idiots split the proceeds. Everything else burns. Other questions?”
There were no other questions.
The caravan master, called Miles (or so Rick had mentioned), waved his hand dismissively at us, and then ambled off to sign some papers. His assistant had been waving the documents at him urgently at the end of his ‘inspirational’ speech. I assumed they were things that needed to get done before the important company member disappeared for several weeks.
I followed Will and Rick’s lead, as did Toby who ambled behind us at an easy gait. First we stopped by one of the supply wagons to get our day’s rations and water. Will mentioned, “When we stop for the night, the company appreciates any foraging or hunting you can do. Mostly because people get sick of the same dried fruit and jerky over and over again. With twenty five wagons, there’s a lot of mouths to feed. With thirteen guards, just as many non-combatants if not more, and over twice as many crew, you’re looking at over seventy people on this trip. Not to mention a hundred or so horses. You can’t split a stag seventy ways, but if everyone does their part we’ll be in good shape when the lean section of the journey hits.”
As we all climbed up into the back of our wagon, which had already been loaded with our gear and The Magic Shop’s shipment, Rick said, “When we approach the middle part of the journey, everything gets scarce. It’s the ‘dead zone’ between the ruins of Castle Gray and the mountains. There are only a few safe watering holes, and not much grazing for the horses. The fewer supplies we can use before we hit the snow, the better. After that, there’s plenty of snow to melt for water, and a fair amount of hunting and trapping can be done.”
When Toby got aboard, there was a noticeable creaking. We all held our breath until the big man-bull had settled in. He glanced over at the three of us. “Oh come on, when was the last time I broke a wagon?” He added quickly, “By accident?”
Will’s smart-ass reply was cut short by the wise clarification from our bovine companion. I chuckled. There was a story there, which I would have to ask about when the time was right.
The first couple of days on the road were uneventful. I was quickly learning what it meant to be part of a caravan. By necessity, one had to be a jack of all trades as well as the master of at least one. Just because I was one of the hired guards, I wasn’t excused from menial labor. Whenever the wagons were stopped, I was expected to participate in vehicle inspection, livestock feeding, fire building, hunting and gathering, and all manner of small chores. In a way, that was good for me. It made me feel connected to the overall endeavor. I was part of a team.
While travelling those first few days, I satisfied Toby’s curiosity about my background. He wanted detailed knowledge about ‘being an orc’, from life in a tribe or clan, to diet, to work habits, to warfare. I answered every question to the best of my ability. Even Rick and Will learned a few new things about me and my clan. By midday of the third day, I had finally run the paladin out of questions. When he announced that his curiosity was satisfied, there was a sarcastic round of applause from the two humans. I told Toby that he could expect to be grilled when we bedded down for the night. The minotaur assured me that when his turn came for answering questions, he would do so with equal verbosity and candor.
The hunting and foraging was particularly good that night. Our elven rear guard had caught two stags, there were a number of rabbits caught by the warriors, and our group managed to find a hillside that had dozens of wild potatoes. When the caravan master wandered by, he said it was the finest haul that he’d seen in the last year. As he was walking away, he noted that the road quickly became desolate from this point on, and not to get used to such a bounty.
Will stared daggers at the back of Miles’ head. “He’s always good for a laugh, isn’t he?” the small mage asked, acidically.
Rick patted his partner on the back. “Ignore him. He’s a good guy, but if he didn’t look for the downside of things, he probably wouldn’t have a business left. That’s just his nature.”
With the contributions of the staff and the civilians, from wild berries to roasted squirrels, everyone ate well. Sister Janet blessed the feast and delivered a little speech about the importance of community. There was genuine applause afterwards. Rick murmured in my ear, “Sister Janet has been a part of well over a hundred of these caravan trips. The regulars know her better than their own family.” I looked at the older human’s weathered face. It was a roadmap of the world: Wrinkles, scars, and leathery patches from being out in the sun far too often. But under all of that was an undeniable joy. It was something I would like some day… that sense of community, of caring for something greate
r than yourself and your little circle of friends. Someday.
Our group broke away from the main campfire to relax after the big meal. I took out my self-heating pot and filled it with some water. I could brew some strong tea and keep the four of us nice and warm at the same time. Once the brewing process was underway, Toby broke the silence.
The minotaur said, “So Sorch, you’ve had all day to think of questions for me. What would you like to start with?”
My answer was immediate, “Could you tell me about the Elf-lands?” Will and Rick murmured their approval, it was a topic that they enjoyed.
Toby nodded. He leaned back against a wagon wheel and stretched his legs, hooves digging slight furrows into the dirt. “Of course. There are two major elf nations. Civilia is where I hail from. Past the mountains and far to the northwest, Civilia is said to be the birthplace of magic on Panos. I believe it. The structures are drawn directly from the earth by magic; great crystalline towers and obsidian bridges. Right near your homeland, Sorch, is the nation of Arbitros. The elf folk of the southeast are practitioners of more wild sorcery, and tend to make their homes high in the branches of the trees themselves. I’ve had the pleasure of spending time in both places. Civilia is ancient, traditional, and organised. Arbitros is more chaotic, and in a constant cycle of rebirth.”
The beast-man described at length the similarities and differences between the two elven nation-cities. Civilia was ruled by a royal family, while Arbitros had an elected council that left power every three years and could never serve again afterwards. Civilia had a fiefdom, while there was no concept of land ownership at all in Arbitros. Both elven nations had armed forces. Civilia had a professional standing army, while all adults in Arbitros were expected to serve in the militia for nine years, some time between the ages of one hundred-ten and one hundred-forty.
By the time Toby was finished, we had been through two rounds of tea. Other groups were turning in for the night, and that seemed like a good idea to us as well. Before getting in our bedrolls, the minotaur asked me, “So what will the topic of conversation be tomorrow?”
I simply answered, “You.”
The morning was cooler than the one before, perhaps an indication of what we could expect further up the road. After helping the caravan workers to feed and water the horses, we went to our prospective wagons and set off. I decided to start the Q&A session soon after we had arranged ourselves in the second wagon.
“So Toby, what exactly is a minotaur? Where did they originate?”
Toby took out an armor polishing cloth and started to buff out his thick black horns as he spoke. “In ages past, just after the creation of elves, humans, and orcs, the gods of justice and light heard a cry. Looking down upon what they had created, they saw a group of elves all standing in a circle.”
‘Why do you cry out for justice?’ asked Aro-Remset, the elven god of fair battle.
‘The orcs and humans prepare to wage war, and yet we are not ready. For each of our generations, they have four to five! They breed and they make engines of war, and yet we have not had time to learn the ways of destructive magics. Is this just?’
Toby was doing the high pitched little voices for the elves, much to our amusement. He switched back to his own baritone timbre in order to explain, “Aro-Remset did not find this just. In those early days the elves, mature at age one hundred instead of eighteen like the other races, were few in number. He decided that a deterrent was in order, to allow for the fair development of the elf nation.”
‘Behold the bulls in the field. They are brave. And though they prefer peace, they are ready to serve in times of war. Bulls, I command you, rise up and protect my people until they are plentiful and battle-ready!’
The minotaur wiggled his fingers. “And so the minotaurs were born. Not as numerous as the major races, but able to be a force in combat from a young age… well, young relative to an elf. Thus, our age-long bond with the elven people. We provided protection in their time of need, and would again if the need arose. They treat us with respect and kindness. Should any minotaur be poor or outcast, they are welcome in any of the elven lands, where they will be fed and groomed and well cared for.”
As the morning stretched towards noon, Toby related the role of minotaurs in history. Their participation in the two great wars, their presence at the fall of Poth in the northeastern desert, and their aid in the building of the Arcane University to name a few. It seemed that minotaurs liked to be wherever there was action.
As we broke for lunch, I agreed to allow Toby to rest his voice. He could pick up where he had left off tonight after dinner... so long as Will and Rick entertained us during the afternoon leg of today’s journey. They agreed, and together they recalled the most interesting customers that they had encountered in their shop since they last saw Toby.
As our day’s journey drew to an end and the sun was dipping past the horizon, one of the humans’ stories was of particular interest to Toby. His ears perked visibly as Will told the tale.
“Oh yes, we saw another minotaur in our shop recently. She was dressed mostly in leathers, with some kind of cudgel on her hip, peace-knotted of course. She came in asking about divine magic. I showed her what we had in stock. We sometimes have healing potions, abjuration scrolls, and the like. She bought one of the scrolls that we had, and took the referral to our temple for more. Then she asked the strangest thing…”
Toby interrupted, his tone very neutral, “She asked about the Axe of McGrondle.”
All eyes were on the minotaur now.
Will nodded slowly. “Y-yes, in fact. When I told her that I didn’t know anything, and Rick also confessed his lack of knowledge, she started to cry. Why, I’m not sure.”
Toby shrugged. “Angry I imagine. It has been her quest for some fifteen years now, and she’s not getting any younger.”
“So you know her?”
Toby nodded. But he did not elaborate.
I had to ask, “Was she so angry she just started crying, like a high stress situation?”
Rick chimed in, “No Sorch, minotaurs don’t experience emotions in the same way as we do. All emotion, to them, falls on some scale of sadness or joy.”
Will added, “It’s called binary emotion. When we would experience rage, they would experience a deep sadness and a need to rectify that sadness. Love, to them, is just extreme joy. It’s why you never assume a minotaur’s emotional state. You ask.”
Toby, truth be told, looked a little sad right now. I asked him, “How do you feel?”
The question startled him, and he perked up a little. He laughed. “Mired in the past. But I’m fine now, really.”
Rick peered at the large paladin for a moment, then he shrugged. “Anyway, she left the shop and headed over to the temple. That was the last we saw of her. I imagine she’s still looking for that axe.”
Toby nodded. “She is. Always.”
Just then we heard the call for a stop. The caravan had found a suitable campsite. Chores were doled out, and chores were accomplished. Our little group opted for our own fire tonight, needing a break from the communal nature of caravan life.
We went through the perishables that we had left in our personal supplies before they had the chance to go bad. Bread, soft cheese, salted meats, and the last of the fresh fruit. The nature of the hodgepodge meal allowed us to snack and chat well into the night.
“So.” I prompted our resident minotaur. “Who is this Toby, and why is he here?”
The burly paladin smiled. “Right. Well, my name is Toby McGoldberg. This is my sixty-seventh year. I am a Paladin of the Order of the Snow, a guardian of Ice House, Aro-Remset’s left hand, and servant of the Old Gods of Good. But Toby is fine, if it pleases you.”
He tapped his hooves lightly on the rocks that we had used to ring the fire. “I was actually born in Ice House. My parents taught me what was important in life: Justice, defending the defenseless, beauty in the arts, and embracing The Wandering. The Wandering is an i
mpulse all of my kind have, to travel, to adopt a quest or an ideal, to explore the world and the cultures of Panos. So when I was older, long after I joined the Order of the Snow as a paladin, I traveled. In the name of the Order and out of respect for The Wandering, I made pilgrimage all over the elven and orc lands. Recently, my Wandering became less compelling. I bought a house in Ice House, so I’m quite happy when my adventures bring me home.”
I asked for a clarification, “What is the Order of the Snow, and how does it relate to your god?”
Toby nodded a few times, indicating that I had hit upon a good point. “The Order of the Snow is a unified temple that combines the clerics, paladins, and militant faithful of several different gods. The pantheon represented spans all of the major races, and encompasses the gods that are generally considered ‘good’. In essence, if you worship and fight for one of these deities in and around the Ice House area, you are welcome to join. It allows us to pool our resources to do a lot of good, while at the same time putting aside petty racial and regional differences.”
With the foundations laid, I started asking detailed questions. I asked many, many questions.
Toby, like all minotaurs, had a passion for the dramatic. He loved acting, poetry, parades, and grand displays. Toby had been an actor and a singer in a wandering troupe for a number of years prior to taking his oaths. By his own admission, he was average at best, but he enjoyed the experience tremendously.
One thing that I appreciated about the minotaur: He carried no prejudice in his heart, allowing actions to define how he felt about someone. He actually mentioned befriending a half-orc from the northern tribes, and promised to introduce us should our path ever take us in that direction.
Toby’s Wandering had taken him all over the continent. Every adventure that brought profit resulted in a tithing. Much like I set aside funds for my people, the minotaur set funds aside for his Order. Most recently, the paladins of Aro-Remset were gathering donations for the centennial celebrations. In a couple of months, the Arcane University would be holding parades and magical demonstrations in every major city on Panos. Toby and his people planned to have grand representation in every parade, followed by a feast for the poor in each location.