She was a loser, a seamstress, she wasn't a sword wielding paladin--
Isira was beside her with her mantle. "Come now, that could've gone so much worse!"
"I fucked up!" Someone walking out of the inn glanced at her, then it became apparent no one could see who she was talking to. Isira was doing the invisible thing again. "Great."
"Think of it as an opportunity to improve." Isira flicked Her hand out sending the mantle into some hitherto unknown dimension. At Leslie's frown She grinned. "You tried. That's all I want from you."
"S- So you're not mad?"
"If I was, do you think I'd show it?"
"I kind of expected it," Leslie swallowed. "So what now?"
“We're going to go shopping! Sort of.” She smiled at Leslie's confusion but when Her new paladin didn't immediately come to Her call, Isira pouted teasingly. “This village is pleasant, but I have much more interesting plans for you, starting with finding you some suitable attire. I can't have one of my own chosen running around without some degree of protection. No, we're going to get you some armor.”
Leslie frowned. She knew better than to say what she was about to, but it wasn't like the goddess couldn't read her damn mind anyway. “I'm going to disappoint you all the more, I'm about as skilled in combat as a one legged toddler trying to run upstairs.”
Isira actually paused a second before she spoke. “You enjoy shock value, don't you?” She smirked. “You've been my champion for an evening now and the only thing you've told me is about what you can't do, have I bet on a lame horse?” Her brow lofted in playful challenge.
It was anything but playful to Leslie. “Ah--” Shit. Was she about to lose everything she'd been given? “W- Well, I'm good at other things? If you wanted needlework--”
“I am quite familiar with little pricks, young lady. No, I need a champion. A thoroughbred. If I've bet on a lame horse--”
“You're going to take me out back and put me down?”
Isira cocked her hip out. "Come now. . . .my paladin."
Leslie whimpered. “I'm not a soldier--”
“I'm not asking you to be one.”
“I don't know how to fight.”
“You can learn.”
“I'm not--” Leslie's voice died when she felt Isira's presence swell through her.
“Skills can be learned. Character? Not so much." She closed the distance with a feline stride, taking Leslie's shoulders. "This body can be anything you want it to be, but your soul can only be what it was meant to.”
Leslie whimpered.
“I want you for your spirit, I believe in you.”
“But--”
“This might surprise you,” Isira swept Leslie's hair behind her ear and folded Her arms under Her breasts. “Keiter and I have a rather unusual relationship, but I've learned over the years that he has a good eye for people. So when he begs me to hear you out, I'm fairly certain I know what I'm in for.” She flashed a wry smile. “But, if you're not interested. . .”
“N- No, wait! I'm sorry, I just. . .”
“If you fail, it won't be intentional.” Isira said with finality.
At least that much was true. Leslie drew in a shaky breath, quivering. She had made her pact with the goddess, she couldn't disobey, could she?
The goddess looped an arm around Leslie's shoulders and urged her along the outer ring of the village towards the farm-land path that would lead to the main roads. There was a cloth merchant out that way, fairly close to the village. Maybe Isira had planned to have Leslie make something for Her. Maybe it wasn't just about what she'd been told. They walked in silence, but Leslie could feel the warmth of the goddess eroding her fears and doubts. They were equals in Her eyes, friends and partners in crime.
“Crime's a strong word. . . .think of it as an adventure.” Isira glanced at her with a smile. “It was taken from me first, you see, and the individual who has it treats the armor as a mere bauble. It's very distressing!”
“Are you always going to do that? The reading my mind thing--”
She didn't even bat an eye. “I could make it a two way street if you like.”
Leslie looked to Isira uneasily. It might have been the fact that she'd isolated herself, that she'd lived a life cooped up her in tiny little house that made it so easy to connect with someone like Isira, but maybe she was just grateful for any kind of contact. She licked her lips. “I get the feeling--”
“You'd be overcome by passion and desire? Maybe you'd want to sleep with everyone who crossed your path?” Isira raised a finger. “Or, maybe you're afraid you'd get jealous.”
“Uh-- No. I was going to say I'd probably burst into flames or something. If my thoughts were run through you and then me. Before I know it I'm on fire, soaking wet and not sure which is the more immediate concern.”
Isira laughed merrily at that and gave her a squeeze. “We could indulge them if you wanted, we have time--”
“No, no!” Leslie coughed. “I like walking upright and I'm sore enough as it is.”
“Spoiled sport.” Isira pouted playfully.
Leslie relaxed more as they walked. "Just, promise me something?"
"Hm?"
"N- No more gambling?"
Isira spared her a glance. As they neared the edge of the farm road that would lead them out of town, Isira gripped Leslie a little harder, more firm and reassuring. “This is going to be the start of something beautiful, I think.”
Leslie eyed the goddess, knowing what she wanted to say was anything but appropriate. Instead, she opted for another tact: “Like putting a gold's worth of silk on a boar sow, right?”
“Clearly you've never had bacon.”
“There's a pleasant mental image-- the pig dies.”
“I like to think of it as commitment.”
Leslie went quiet at that, not entirely sure what to think. When she didn't respond Isira lifted her chin. They stopped walking and the goddess held her like that for a breathless moment. In Her deep brown eyes Leslie felt eternity-- warmth, love, compassion--. . . .anger. Fear. Hopelessness and loss. She saw the goddess's tears welling up. They threatened to spill, but She wouldn't let them go. Knowing that they were there, that they were real, was enough to shake Leslie to the core.
Everything Leslie knew about her patron-- her savior-- painted Her as a flighty thing that had the best of intentions at heart but never really paid much attention to the long term. She protected the free choice of people to choose their lovers, advocated for the hungry to be fed and the lonely to be coddled-- but She, like many of Isira's followers, never stopped to consider the price for Her compassion. Leslie hadn't either until she saw that pain. . .
Just knowing it existed broke something inside. Isira spoke in a tiny whisper. “You may die before I do, no matter how much I wish I could take your place, but you will never be alone again.” A tiny smile lit her face, broken and hallowed.
“I know,” Leslie lied. “But I'm not a fighter, I--”
“Shh.” The eastern looking woman cupped Her paladin's cheeks. “You've given me something I haven't had in a long time, you can't fail me now."
"D- Don't bet on it."
“Is it wrong for me to want the best for the person I chose to represent me? You didn't think I chose you just for your good looks and fashionable dress sense, do you?” Isira turned and lead them further down the road. “No, I have some plans for you and given enough time, you're going to love them.”
As they plodded along the path Leslie felt her vision blur slightly at the fringes. It edged quickly towards painful, like her equilibrium had been shifted out from under her and she was starting to fall. She tried to reach out but Isira held her with remarkable strength, forcing her to stay upright while her vision swam around her. “Y- ugh--”
“It'll be over soon.” The goddess whispered.
“What's--"
“I think of it as a mutual exchange for your benefit.” Isira purred. “One of my brightest friends made that armor
and spent the majority of his life trying to convince me I needed to consecrate it, I'll not have it sitting rotting in some treasure trove unappreciated when it could be used to keep you safe. Like I said, shopping!”
"Wh- shopping--?" What the hell kind of shopping was this?
The blurring faded slightly and Leslie's sense of movement shifted to a heady rush-- she soon found her feet under her even though she didn't feel as though she'd ever stopped walking forward. Isira held her close as if any moment might rip them apart and they'd be lost to one another.
In the mere moments that seemed to pass, Leslie felt herself growing hungry and cold-- warm and cold yet again. However she soon found out why: they stopped and nothing about the road they had been walking down was the same. They stood in the middle of an empty road at the foot of a small crag sloped towards the moon. The two looked around their new surroundings.
Leslie was struck by a sudden urge to relieve herself, hunger and thirst gnawed at her and she was wearing her mantle once more as protection against the chill evening. She realized these things all at once and blurted the first thing on her mind. "What the hell was that?"
"This--" Isira guided Leslie down the road where it snaked around the mountain. They came to find an inn built into the rock face with a wooden facade, arching windows and wide double doors held up by a broad wood deck.
The place tingled with magic. It bristled Leslie's new sense and set her on edge almost immediately. It was a sensation like hot and cold pokers being waved over her flesh waiting to strike, daring her to look away. “Uh. . ."
Parked along the front of the building were a group of covered wagons loaded with goods that were completely undefended. They all bore the same company logo marking them as part of a caravan; they were logos she'd never seen before. "Hold on-- where are we?"
"Well--"
A pair of men erupted from the entrance and tumbled into a heap followed by a burly man in a double breasted suit. He calmly tidied his white gloves. "If you find you can pay your debt, you're welcome to return but your foreman will be informed." Upon seeing the two women he straightened his posture. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Casino Eso. Please, do come in."
"Gladly!" Isira smiled.
Casino?
Leslie knew she should have been grateful, she should have submitted to Isira's will as she expected every divine agent did, but deep down she knew where this was heading. She hadn't been given her eyesight out of some sense of charity, the goddess of pleasure had done so because She wanted something in return. She wanted a specific skill that Leslie possessed. . .
She wanted the thing that had killed Leslie's husband and she wanted her to know it, too. Leslie's heart fell into her stomach and for the first time since meeting any of the goddess's followers, she actually wanted to curse herself in Her name.
Chapter 2: The Casino on the Ass End of Nowhere
“You should never begrudge someone for their choice of professions, not because others will look at you as somehow magnanimous for not looking down at the less fortunate, but there may come a time when your words come back to bite you in the ass.
Everyone at some point in their lives needs their shoes polished.”
-Neta
Urban Philosophy from the Free States of Estan
Leslie huddled her mantle close and clutched the sack of coin Isira had brought with them like a talisman. It was a gift Keiter had left for her when he and his elven friend moved on. More gold than she'd seen in her entire life. Not just gold, magical gold. She'd been able to feel the subtle tingle of power before Isira had given her the extra senses she now possessed.
Even in the depths of poverty, Lelsie never attached much meaning to coin outside of the necessities it would purchase. She'd never been tempted into greed or stupid enough to put it between her and good conversation or a friendly smile. Standing outside the casino, however, she suddenly felt the need to become covetous and dubious of anything around her.
Isira was standing on the stairs leading to the door, smiling at Her stupid little convert like it would get her to move any faster. Hesitantly Leslie edged forward and opened her mouth, wondering just how far she could get with questioning her patron deity. She decided for a carefully neutral tone. “I don't mean to sound stuck up, but I have no business here. . .”
“You certainly do,” the goddess placed Her hands on Her generous hips and smirked. “You didn't spend two days traveling the countryside to walk away now, did you?”
“H-”
“You're going to be fine.”
Leslie started to object, she started to speak David's name. She had no business here. But before those words could even form in her throat Isira was in front of her from one place to the next with no time in between. She took Leslie's shoulders gently and held her gaze.
There was a subtle understanding in those bottomless eyes, a kind of acknowledgment that made sense and more than that, a rush of sound and spirit that stirred her battered soul to open itself to the possibilities before her. She was being asked, asked by an omniscient power to help and offered a purpose that she'd never had.
Leslie turned her gaze away and fought the tears that came. “I'm not who you need--”
“No, you're right about that. . . .all things equal, I could probably find some soulless team of expert thieves who'd take what I'm offering them as a challenge.” Isira brought Leslie's chin up with a finger. “But I want a paladin, Leslie. I get what I want one way or the other.”
“Before I was blinded I had a good business, people looked to me for clothing because I was good at what I did, I mean really good. I could have clothed nobility, but that's all I know how to do. When it comes down to it I'm the human equivalent of a participation award. Then you come along saying you want me to be a paladin? A paladin? I mean, are you high?!”
A dangerous flicker crossed the goddess's eyes and for just a split second Leslie could see the clouds of a roiling storm touch Her features only to fall away in the next moment. “Don't ask questions you fear answers too, my friend.” She winked. In the next moment She was on the steps of the casino again, She opened the door for Leslie and stepped aside, holding open in offering.
Leslie clutched her mantle tighter and looked around.
As far as choices went, it was probably up there with punching a cheese grater or frolicking through a field of daises. She wasn't quite sure which was which just yet, but if she'd been brought out here, there had to be some good reason, right? She crossed the threshold into an antechamber where the guard was standing in a neatly pressed, albeit very strange three piece suit, in a style and cut Leslie had never seen before. He offered to take her mantle delicately but it was clear his muscular frame could easily have broken her in two.
He looked to Isira and gave her perhaps the strangest smile Leslie had ever seen on another person and that was when she noticed the tingle of magic about his person. It was the same kind of magic Isira held, but it was different; colder. A sharp tang like pickle juice tinted his 'aura'. Leslie watched the two for a moment, until Isira gave him a flat expression.
“Now, what are we doing. . .” Isira strolled towards the looming double doors as if the place belonged to Her, She reached for the handle and spared a look at Leslie. A little smile graced Her features. “We're going to get that armor back, you're going to become a legend and I'll show you just how egalitarian I can be.”
Dragon (S)Layers: The Paladin Gambit Page 3