The Sword Saint’s Second Life As a Fox Girl

2-16 Azaela

The Guild was in a turmoil ever since the break of dawn. A Paladin had arrived at their town and none of them had foreseen the Paladin’s arrival. The Guild knew the Paladins would come eventually but just not in such a short amount of time. The silver lining of this sudden conundrum was that only a single Paladin came and the Paladin-in-question was the one and only Azaela. The moment she was recognized by a Guild Official who was coincidentally walking to work, the official dashed off to relay the news to the Guild Master. Azaela was then quickly escorted to the reception room meant for common dignitaries. Had the staff knew the Paladin was actually Azaela herself, she would have been in the Guild Master’s office.

Now, Azaela was sitting across from Geron with Samira by his side with a tea table between the two sides. Teas and cakes were also served in a rush. However, neither side had touched their tea or cakes. Geron couldn’t help but notice the absence of weapons on the Paladin but knowing their capabilities and prowess first-hand, he knew her defenseless state was nothing more than a bait for fools.

While Geron managed to keep a neutral countenance, Sam was trying her damndest to not be overwhelmed by the Paladin’s mere presence. Sam knew the Paladins’ level would be high but being in Azaela’s presence, she realized she underestimated just how high their levels were, specifically Azaela’s. The Paladin herself wasn’t using any spell or skill, the pressure she exuded was simply due to the significantly vast difference in levels.

Aside from the level difference, Sam was staring at the Paladin in bafflement for a whole other reason. Sam had seen her shares of Paladins in the early days of her career. She knew how they often dressed in public, a full set of armor adorned with their faith’s colors and symbols. However, Azaela sported a different manner of attire. The infamous Paladin was donning a robe meant for priestesses. The robe covered every corner of her body, her hands were gloved, and she even had the hood up, with only the lower half of her face revealed to prying eyes. Had it not been for the Sigil of the Ruvan Paladins etched on the back of her robe, only Geron would have known about her status as a Paladin. Sam was curious about the choice of Azaela’s apparels but she didn’t dare to ask, not in the current state of affairs.

“Lady Azaela, your presence is—” Geron began the exchange but he was immediately cut off.

“Unwelcomed?”

“Unexpected, I meant to say,” Geron explained. “We know the church has dispatched the Paladins but for you to be chosen, this is an honor of an excessive degree. Had I known of your arrival, we would have given you the appropriate reception.”

“I’m not here to revel in the town’s hospitality,” Azaela asserted. “My presence is of an oath of my duty and faith. Since you already know of our arrival, I’m certain you know of my reasons.”

“I do,” Geron admitted. “And unfortunately, I can’t comply with your wishes.”

“Give me what I came for and no troubles will beset us.”

Geron narrowed his eyes. “Do I sense a threat, your ladyship?”

“I am merely relaying the consequences of hindering the duty of Paladins.”

“If duty is your excuse, then you need not worry. The quest has been entrusted to capable hands.”

“A quest?”

“Yes, Lady Azaela, a quest.” Geron pressed on. “The investigation of this Necromancy business is now the Guild’s affair. Your band of militia has no right to take it from us.”

“Mister Geron, we are dealing with dark forces here. Adventurers are not befitting to combat this manner of threat.”

“And how would you know? You have not met every adventurer.”

“I haven’t but leaving such a task to the Paladins is a sensible decision anyone can make. I’m not seeking to steal the glory. These dark forces will only get stronger the longer we leave it as it is. The involvement of the Paladins would only help settle this matter all the more quicker. You have nothing to lose with our assistance.”

“Or so you claim, Lady Azaela.” Geron scoffed. “I lived more than tenfold of your age, Lady Azaela. My paths have crossed with Paladins of Ruvan more times than I wished, none of those times did it leave a good impression.”

“...Your concern is understandable, Mister Geron.”

“It’s more than that, Lady Azaela. Are you aware of the numerous stories regarding your peers’ prejudicial views towards non-human kinds? I have seen it with my own eyes; how a Ruvan Paladin treated someone who rejected your faith in goodwill. How do you expect the Guild to place its trust in you and your faith?”

“...Trust not in the individual but their motivations, as merchants tend to say.” Azaela spoke after a brief silence. “I can’t speak for my peers but I can speak for myself and the ones I lead, we wish only to quell the coming conundrum, nothing more. Letting dark forces fester will only bring ruin to Ruva’s name and the Ruvan’s integrity.”

Geron groaned as a response.

It had become a routine for Geron to ascertain a person’s real intentions through the subtle gestures of their body and expression, but Azaela was well-covered from head to toe; only her lips were exposed to the light. Geron had no way of affirming her intentions but refusing aid from a Paladin wasn’t a wise choice either, as his past had reminded him.

“Green Scar is already barren with faith. Rejecting my good graces would only give this town a bad name in the eyes of the other faiths.”

Be it a threat or an advice, this was simply a fact. One that Geron could not ignore for the sake of this town. In the end, he sighed and beckoned Sam to hand over the file she had been holding onto all this while.

Upon receiving the papers, Azaela gave it a quick but thorough read. Not five minutes went by and she had finished devouring the report with her mind. After setting the papers on the table, she asked, “and what of the adventurers you have assigned for this task?”

“The Guild answers to no nation or faction. We are of our own. I have complied with your wishes but divulging adventurer’s private details can only be done by the respective adventurer’s consent.”

“You will not say, no matter what?”

“If I complied, the Guild’s name would be tarnished. That request of yours is the sole request that I can’t abide.”

Azaela leaned forward. “It seems that the Guild is more principled than I expected. I’m surprised to learn the backwaters are less venal than the cities.”

Geron smiled. “I don’t speak for the other branches but I do speak for myself and this branch. As long it’s not a matter of private details, I will answer any questions you have regarding this… come conundrum.”

“Hmm,” Azaela murmured.

Geron couldn’t see her eyes but he knew he was being scrutinized.

“Very well,” she said and stood up. Without another word, she left the room with firm steps. Only then, Sam was able to relax her shoulders with a breath.

“Sam,” Geron called out.

“Yes sir?” Sam answered.

“Until she leaves this town, I want periodic reports of her movements.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “Understood, sir.”

****

As the Paladin stepped onto the street, all eyes were drawn to her. Some immediately looked away but some stayed their prying gaze. Azaela paid none of those gazes any heed.

She took in the morning sun in stride and breathed in the fresh air of the morning with a faint tinge of satisfaction. She was always in a rush once she was on an assignment but never had she missed the moment to appreciate a new tomorrow. Despite being young, she had seen enough of what life could offer and what people were capable of in the absence of morality and order. It made her appreciate her life and the tomorrow that never failed to emerge.

She opened her palm and conjured a spectral orb of light with leaf-like wings into her hand. Floating above her palm, she brought it close to her face.

“Lucan,” she spoke to the floating winged-orb of light.

“I’m here, sister,” a man’s voice responded from the winged orb.

“Maven’s Creek, we’ll regroup there.”

“Yes, sister. I’ll inform the others.”

“What of your end, Lucan?”

“Nothing we don’t already know except that the Necromancer is resourceful and cautious. It used catalysts and an intermediary for the ritual. The Necromancer may not even be half your level but given the nature of Necromancy, we can’t be reckless. I suggest we make haste.”

“Agree, Lucan. That will be all.”

“Of course, Sister. Ruva’s grace be with us.”

“Ruva’s grace be with us,” Azaela returned the regard and dispelled the spectral winged-orb. The first thing she noticed after ending the long range communication spell were the few individuals in hiding. She quickly deduced them to be agents of the Guild but since they held no harmful intentions, Azaela paid no mind to their presences.

She was about to head towards east, the gateway of the town but she halted her steps. Mild shivers crawled onto her skin and her brows were raised. It was faint but it didn’t go under her notice. She sensed a brief pulse of immense power. She waited for the next moment but it never came. She had doubts but she could only see it as someone trying to get her attention, someone levels above her.

She stalled her leave and instead followed the beckon of the immense power. She passed streets, turned corners, and walked down narrow alleys, all the while drawing attention to just about everyone she came across. All of them gave her the same eyes, unwelcoming gazes all around. She felt their fear and apprehension, and she couldn’t blame them. The presence of a Paladin in a town that did not have a single ounce of faith was nothing but a sure sign of trouble.

And Azaela didn’t disparage them for being faithless. She herself understood just how much faith had been exploited for personal gains. After all, she was the one the Pontiff sent to cull away all these tyrants who exploited Ruva’s grace.

After making dozens of turns into the most derelict of places, Azaela arrived at a small plain on the lonely corner of the town. The plain had only a single tree and under that tree, stood a Dwarrow of dark red hair. She instantly recognized the Dwarrow as the Guild Master’s younger son from the intelligence she was given prior her departure for her assignment. However, the intelligence spoke nothing of Aedan’s secret.

“A Dragon-kin...” Azaela gasped at the Dwarrow’s true identity. Her Appraisal skill couldn’t get any information from the disguised Dwarrow safe for his race, which was the only line of words that was comprehensible. She couldn’t remember the last time anything or anyone had managed to incur a gasp from her. For the first time in years, fear shrouded her, but she let none of it show on her gestures and posture.

They stood their grounds with a few feet between them. They exchange gazes but neither side spoke.

The Dragon-kin sighed but that was much change to his expression.

Azaela decided to be the first one to break the silence. “I answered your summon, your eminence. Speak your intentions.”

Aedan stayed silent and cast a perusing gaze at the Paladin.

Azaela said nothing in return of the Dragon-kin’s obvious but covert perusal. She was prepared to launch any spell at any moment’s notice if he decided to take any hostile actions.

“Azaela, was it?” Aedan finally spoke.

“I am,” Azaela answered. “Is this your territory?” she asked. Although she never encountered any Dragons or Dragon-kin personally, her masters and senior peers had, and they all said the same thing, the same warning, never raise the ire of a Dragon. She heard of the olden days from her masters, how Dragons had razed a nation as a response for one of the royal-kin stumbling into a Dragon’s territory. Of course, Azaela knew there was definitely more to that story but the lesson remained the same, Dragons were beings capable of massive destruction.

“I wouldn’t call this town my territory but I do call it my home.”

“What do you want of me?”

“Just making sure that you know of the consequences should this town receive any obtrusion from the Ruvan church.”

“Such a thing will never happen.”

“Maybe you won’t do a thing but what of your masters when you reported back? They will fabricate the most nonsensical reason for their crusades. If that happens, I will hold you responsible.”

The sun was basking any uncovered places with its glory but even so, Azaela felt a faint chill on her heavily clothed skin.

“Also, the adventurers whom the Guild had assigned for the same quest you pursue, if any… ecclesiastical things happen to them, I will raze your faith and the holy state to the ground.”

Azaela was used to insults and barely any of them were able to hook her ire or attention but threats or mockeries directed to her faith, that was the one thing she didn’t have any patience for. “Are you threatening the church?”

“I don’t make threats, Azaela.” Aedan grinned. “I only make promises.”

Although Azaela wasn’t sure of Aedan’s full capabilities, she was sure of his solemnity. “If the adventurers stay out of our way, nothing will befall unto them. You have my word.”

“You better keep it or you will know first-hand on how good I am at keeping promises.”

To those words, Azaela could only nod.

“Good, now make yourself scarce,” Aedan said and made his way back to the smithy.

After Aedan had truly left the plains, Azaela fell to her knees. Her hands were shaking, something that had never happened in a long time. Her mind was racing, contemplating on her next course of action. She was compelled to report this to her masters but she knew if she did, her master would not stay silent of this.

Defying her code for the first time, she ultimately decided against exposing Aedan’s existence to the church. However, this became a stain of humiliation towards her duty as a Paladin, one that she vowed to rectify in the future.