A Paladin's Training Ch. 07

A few weeks ago, Aran would have growled in frustration at the man's constant orders, but he had grown used to it. He also knew better than to anger the big weaponsmith, so he did as he was instructed, placing the length of steel back in the coals before pumping the bellows, bringing it back to ideal temperature so he could begin hammering again.

Under Elaina, Aran had always carried a mace, but Smythe had taught him much of the sword recently, and Aran found that he much preferred blades over the heavier, bulkier maces; swords were elegant, more graceful, when wielded properly. This particular piece would be about four feet long, and slightly curved with a single edge. Smythe said that when a Paladin forges a weapon himself, part of him is infused into it, giving the weapon special properties.

Aran continued following Smythe's guidance, losing himself in the process, until he found himself giving the blade its final quenching, the water hissing fiercely as the steel cooled. He had already crafted the hilt; he'd made it from good hide, long enough for two hands. Smythe had taught Aran both single and two-handed fighting styles, and he preferred the latter over the former. Elaina had, of course, taught him basic combat before he left the Chapel, but it was in the more advanced forms that Smythe had trained him.

Smythe peered over Aran's shoulder as he drew the blade from the quenching barrel, casting a critical eye over his pupil's work. "Excellent work, Aran."

"Thank you, Master." Aran said, quietly grateful Smythe wasn't going to make him start again.

The steel now cool, Smythe carefully picked it up and inspected it more closely, while Aran waited with baited breath for his mentor's response. The mustachioed Paladin grunted as he turned the blade over in his big hands. Finally, he looked at Aran, his broad face impassive. "Fit the hilt, lad," he said quietly. "Well done."

Aran nodded, exhaling in relief, unable to hold back a smile. Eagerly taking the blade, he began to fit the boarhide hilt, all the while trying to think of a suitable name for his new sword. He suddenly realised that all the time he'd been training under Master Smythe, he'd never seen the man's weapon, only the practice weapons they used in training. When he turned to ask about it, though, Smythe was gone.

Making a mental note to ask him later, Aran got back to fitting hilt to blade, all the while thinking up and discarding names. Swift? No. Seeker? No. Dawn? No.

The sound of footsteps behind him brought him back around to see Smythe had returned, carrying a huge sheathed greatsword. "I sensed your question, lad," he said quietly. The air around them grew completely still as Smythe drew the weapon, the thick five-foot blade gleaming brightly in the light of the forge. Aran couldn't be sure, but it almost looked as if the sword was drawing the light to itself, glowing a little brighter than ordinary steel.

"This is Lightbringer," Smythe said, holding blade upright before him. "As Paladins, we must often face darkness. Lightbringer comes to life when creatures of the night are close, and she has taken the heads of many."

"Lightbringer," Aran breathed, taking in the marvelous weapon. He wished he could come up with a name for his own sword that sounded as good as this one.

"Each Paladin's weapon has its own unique power, lad." Smythe explained. "Something that comes from within its maker. Your blade will reveal its true nature in time, and then you will know what name to give it. I named Lightbringer after she first awoke. I was living in another place, at the time, and a local tribe of goblins had decided to raid my village in the dead of night. Lightbringer and I showed them that that was a bad idea." He grew quiet for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes as he remembered. Blinking, he came back to the now, a smile splitting his face. "Congratulations, lad. I've taught you all I can. You're a fast learner, and the Gift is strong in you. I firmly believe your future will be a great one." He bowed formally, his blade held horizontally before him, balanced on upright palms. "I welcome you, Aran Sunblade, to the Order of Aros, as a Paladin. May you serve, love, and fight with all your heart."

Astounded, Aran picked up his own sword, hilt now secured to blade, and returned Smythe's bow in the same fashion. "Thank you for your teachings and your guidance, Master." He realised suddenly that he would be leaving Ironshire, and he felt a touch of sadness at the thought; he had enjoyed training under Smythe. As tough and hard as the man was, his company had not been unenjoyable.

"Rest up for the next day or two," Smythe said, suddenly much more friendly, jovial even. "Then you will move on. Elaina taught you to walk, and I have taught you to run. Now, you must learn the Truth."

Aran heard the capital clearly. "The Truth, Master?"

Smythe offered nothing more on the subject. "Come! We have worked hard these last months, which means we have earned a drink, lad!" He sheathed Lightbringer and strode from the forge, into the night. Smiling, Aran followed.

*

The Iron Arms was pulsing with life as Smythe and Aran entered the tavern. Tables were packed with men and women -- mostly Humans, but the odd Dwarf or Elf here and there -- dicing or playing cards or simply enjoying a laugh and a mug of ale or glass of wine. On a raised platform at one end a pretty Elf woman played a complex, merry tune on her flute, while her male counterpart deftly worked the strings of his lute. All in all, the tavern had a lively, jovial feel about it.

Smythe took in the atmosphere and turned to Aran, grinning widely. "Come, lad!" He said, clapping Aran on the shoulder with a big hand. "Let's find a table!"

Aran didn't see how that was going to happen with the place this full, but Smythe moved through the rows of tables nonetheless, nodding and smiling politely to those who recognised him. Sure enough, as Smythe approached a corner table at the back of the room, set against the wall with two bench seats, a group of four men quickly vacated, all of them very carefully not looking at Smythe.

The big Paladin took the far seat, putting his back against the wall. "Ha!" He barked, his dark eyes following the men who were now hurriedly exiting the tavern while trying to appear casual. "Jame and his lads. They owe me coin for some work I did a while back. Probably hope I've forgotten."

Aran sat opposite his mentor, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. "Why didn't you ask them for it?"

"Bah," Smythe said dismissively. "Wasn't that much coin, lad, and I didn't want to start a fuss in Brehnda's place."

"Fair enough," Aran murmured, looking around with interest and wondering who Brehnda was. Just then, a pretty Dwarf appeared at their table, her hands on her well-rounded hips. Aran's mouth fell open as the biggest pair of breasts he'd ever seen hove into view, the massive pale orbs only barely constrained by an overworked bodice with an extremely low neckline, the contents of which seemed ready to spill forth. Her tremendous chest overshadowed even Elaina's very considerable assets!

"Get your fill, lad," the Dwarf said with a wink. "I'm used to it, round here, 'least from those who've never seen a Dwarf woman before."

Smythe cackled a laugh, and Aran felt his face redden. With an effort, he brought his eyes up to her face. There was a smile on her plump lips, and a sparkle in her dark eyes. At just under five feet tall and maybe into her thirtieth year -- going off Human years, at least -- she was remarkably attractive, and Aran's Gift threatened to reach out, but he used his training to keep it at bay. Raven curls fell about the Dwarf's bare shoulders -- her green silk dress somehow keeping her decent without straps -- the tresses shifting as she looked from Aran to Smythe.

"Who's this fine young colt?" Brehnda asked Smythe, jerking her head toward Aran. "And where have you been hiding him?"

Smythe grinned. "Brehnda, this is Aran. Aran, Brehnda is the owner of this fine establishment."

Aran extended a hand, which the busty Dwarf took. "Nice to meet you, young Aran," Brehnda said, eyeing him up and down brazenly. "What brings you to Ironshire?"

"I took him as my apprentice," Smythe said, answering the question for Aran. "The lad's good, and he'll soon be off to set up his own shop elsewhere. I've taught him all I can."

Brehnda gave Smythe a disappointed look. "Shame. Not enough quality men in this town, Henley." She turned to Aran and whispered, though it was intended for Smythe to hear. "I've tried everything I can to convince him to marry me, Aran, and I mean everything, but still the man resists!"

Aran chuckled, and Smythe just shook his head, a small smile on his face as he listened.

Brehnda continued. "I mean, if these are not enough," she hefted her monumental breasts. "Then I don't know what else a woman can do!"

"They'd be enough for me, Brehnda," Aran said, playing along. "I'm surprised you're having trouble finding a husband, to be honest. You certainly caught my eye."

"Don't listen to her, lad," Smythe broke in. "She's pulling your leg. The last thing Brehnda wants is a husband, believe me."

"You talk sweet, for a young one," Brehnda purred at Aran, touching his face. "Truthfully, lad, I could have a husband tomorrow, if I wished." She put on an affected sigh, playing an act. "Half the men in this tavern would marry me in a heartbeat, but as I said," she leaned in close to Aran to whisper in his ear, her lips just barely touching him. Tingles ran across his skin, and he felt his loins twitch in his breeches; it had been months since he'd touched a woman beyond a handshake, and his body ached for it. Brehnda's hair tickled his cheek, and her flowery scent invaded his nose. "Not enough quality men in this town, love, so I have fun with the ones I like, then I let them go."

"Give over, Brehnda," Smythe said warningly, though he was smiling. "The lad and I are here for a drink, nothing more, for now."

The Dwarf straightened, doing it deliberately slowly so that her epic breasts took longer to pass by Aran's face. "Very well, Henley," she said with a grin. "If I can't have the boy, I'll get you next time."

Smythe nodded. "Agreed. I'll spend an entire night with you, if that's what you wish, but I need the lad for now, and I'll need you to arrange us some ales, too."

"Right away," she purred, giving Aran one last wink before moving off.

"So, that's Brehnda," Aran murmured, watching her round bottom till it disappeared.

"Aye," Smythe replied, his eyes also following the Dwarf. "I've spent many a night with her, and a merry handful she is. She can keep the matter to herself, too, which helps."

Aran and Smythe had never spoken of women before, not even once in the more than three month's Aran had been learning from the big man. Love and sex were a big part of a Paladin's life, and Aran found himself asking his mentor how he managed such things.

"Very well," Smythe said. "I suppose we needed to have this talk sooner or later. I do it very carefully." He kept his voice low. "Usually I choose women who are passing through, if they're willing. Not much point creating lasting relationships, though I do miss having at least one woman around."

He sounded lonely, to Aran. "Have you any Bonded women?" He spoke quietly, following Smythe's lead, though he doubted anyone would overhear them down here at the back of the room, what with the music and laughter and rattling of dice cups.

"There was one, once," Smythe said, staring at the tabletop where he was tracing patterns with his finger. "I was living in the east, back then, many years ago. She was beautiful, and strong. A good woman. I got careless, lad, and the town grew suspicious of me. People fear what they don't understand, and that fear can become hate if left to fester unchecked. They killed her while I was away, and when I felt her die, I rushed back, only to be chased away, wracked with grief as I was. It was flee, or kill them all, and I couldn't make myself hurt them, even though part of me wanted to, so I fled."

Aran just listened, his heart heavy as the big man continued. "So now, I never stay in one place more than ten years. It gets too hard to explain to folk why I don't age. Soon enough it will be time to leave Ironshire and find another place to settle for a time."

Aran knew from Elaina that Smythe was over a century old, though he looked to be no more than twenty-five or so. Elaina herself was fifty years old, more than twice Aran's age, though she looked as young as Smythe. What must it be like to exist in a world where everyone else gets older, but you stay the same?

His thoughts were interrupted by two full pewter mugs thudding down on the table, borne by a slender girl with pretty brown eyes. "This one's on Brehnda," she said with a smile, eyeing Aran before moving off.

"Is this going to happen all the time?" Aran asked his mentor, who was already drawing deeply on his ale.

Lowering the mug, Smythe licked the foam from his thick mustaches. "What do you mean?"

"The women!" Aran said in a hushed voice. "They're eyeing me off like a piece of meat, even when I keep my Gift down!"

Smythe barked a laugh. "Most men would kill for that problem, lad." He took another deep gulp and smacked his now empty mug down. "Not a piece of meat," he explained, stifling a burp with his fist. "But they feel an attraction that they can't explain. If they're on the lookout for a man, or open to finding a better one, you'll stand out to them like a bonfire on a moonless night."

"Can I shut it off?" Aran didn't hate the idea, he just wanted to know if he had any control over it. He picked up his mug to take a drink.

Smythe nodded, waving to the slender barmaid for more ale. "Yes, you can kill yourself," he said bluntly.

Aran choked on his ale, spraying some on himself, as well as the table. "So, in other words, no?"

"Look, lad," Smythe began, placing his broad hands on the table. "You are what you are, and you will stand out, even with your Gift suppressed. To willing women, you will be something they desire, someone that can free them from their inhibitions and even their fears, someone that will love them unconditionally, as it was meant to be." The big Paladin eyed Aran seriously. "Embrace it, lad. Learn to enjoy it."

Nodding slowly, Aran drained his mug. It was a lot to process, and while there were such obvious benefits, it was also a mountain of responsibility.

"Ah, you're starting to understand now, lad," Smythe said as the same barmaid replaced their mugs with full ones and removed the empties.

Aran thanked her, and she blushed before disappearing. "Master, isn't it dangerous for us to be out in public, considering what you just said?"

Smythe shrugged. "Some," he replied. "But most people just assume women are interested for the normal reasons. Unless you expand your Gift, you're likely to be thought of simply as a good-looking fellow who does well with ladies."

"I can accept that," Aran said with a grin, raising his mug to the other man.

"I thought you might," Smythe returned, clashing his mug into Aran's before burying his face in it. "It can be a lonely life," he added when he resurfaced. "But rewarding, as well."

"Thanks for the advice, Master," Aran said, taking another pull of ale.

"Don't call me that," Smythe grunted, slamming down his second empty mug. "Not anymore."

Aran must looked confused, for the big man explained. "You're a full Paladin now, lad," he told Aran softly. "We're equals, now, so no more of this 'Master Smythe' shit. Call me Smythe, or Henley. In fact, I don't know if you noticed, but your abilities with the Gift exceeded my own some time ago." He waved at the barmaid again for another round. "It's one of the reasons you need to move on; I simply cannot teach you any more than I have. You need to find someone stronger."

It was one thing to know you were improving, but it was another thing entirely to hear that you had outpaced your mentor. Aran wasn't sure how to take it. Wait, what had Smythe said? Someone stronger? "Who do you mean?" Aran asked intently. "Aside from you and Elaina, who else is there to learn from?"

"Truthfully, I don't know, lad." Smythe said regretfully. "But Aros provides; he always does. When you set out, follow your Gift, and it will lead you true. I believe there are others out there, though I've never found them, despite long years of searching. We live a long time, Aran, and I refuse to believe that it's just you, me and Elaina left."

"I hope that's the case, Smythe," Aran told the big Paladin. It felt strange not calling him 'Master.' "But what do you say we concern ourselves with that later, and enjoy our drink, ey?"

"Ha!" Smythe barked. "That's the spirit, lad! I've not had a drink all the time I was training you, though often times I was desperate for one. You worked me hard, lad, no doubt!"

Aran nearly dropped his mug at the man's remarks. "I worked you hard? You almost ground me into dust, man! I thought Elaina was tough, but you seemed bent on killing me!" He was being a bit dramatic for humour, but there was some truth to it.

Smythe scoffed lightheartedly. "Come on now, Aran! I threw nothing at you that you couldn't handle! You're sitting here now, aren't you?"

Two more fresh mugs appeared, this time courtesy of Brehnda. "Having fun, boys?"

Aran and Smythe nodded as one as they snatched up their ales, both men eyeing the bounty of cleavage Brehnda was showing with cheeky grins.

"Aye, lass," Smythe said with a wink. "We're just having a friendly argument, is all. Aran here thinks I work him too hard."

Brehnda eyed Aran appraisingly. "Looks like he's strong enough for hard work, Henley, to be sure. Wouldn't mind givin' him a good workin' over myself!"

Aran found his loins twitching again as he imagined the comely Dwarf naked and riding his cock. "Sounds interesting," he said. "What did you have in mind?" He felt a pull from his Gift, telling him that Brehnda was interested, as if her words were not enough!

When she opened her mouth to reply, Smythe intervened again, snatching Brehnda's hand and pulling her into his lap.

"Oh, Henley!" She squealed delightedly, snuggling into his chest. "I've missed your touch."

"I can see you're not going to leave the lad alone," Smythe said wryly. "So, I'm taking over matters. Perhaps you could arrange another round of drinks for us, though?"

From the looks of Brehnda's rosy cheeks and slightly glazed eyes, she'd been into a few drinks herself since last they'd seen her. The busty beauty waved the barmaid over immediately. "Two more ales for these strapping men and a wine for me, please, Holly."

The slender girl nodded, smiling as she took in Brehnda settled comfortably on Smythe's lap.

"And keep them coming!" Brehnda added before planting a steamy kiss on the big Paladin's mouth. Holly disappeared and returned soon after with a fresh tray of drinks.

"Thanks again, Holly," Aran said softly. She really was quite a pretty girl, with a lightly freckled face and her dark hair tied back in a tail. She was wearing a simple cotton dress that fit her slender frame well, and her neckline was much more modest than Brehnda's, though her petite breasts were still partially visible.

"You're welcome, sir," Holly replied, capturing Aran with doe eyes.

Brehnda broke her kiss with Smythe. "Now, Holly, don't go getting caught up with this young colt!" She scolded, though her tone was friendly. "Normally I don't mind you having fun, but tonight is busy, and I need you focused."

"Yes, Brehnda," Holly said, shooting a rueful glance at Aran before grabbing the empty mugs and hurrying off.