The Templar Chronicles: Freedom's Price

Jericho woke around five in the morning, refreshed. He loved the feeling of waking up after true sleep; it was so much more…filling somehow. He sat up quickly and got up out of bed feeling the relief of being truly awake for the first time in several days. Plus, today’s goals were simple direct and straightforward and would allow him time to think about what would happen next.

He suited up, picked up his spear and pulverized shield and left the tent. He considered the sorry state of the shield. Jericho flipped the dented and crushed object a few times feeling the way material was damaged. He sighed, while the repair nano-bots had done their best, the underlying material of the shield, which was its superstructure, was too warped. He could not wait for the several days it would take the tiny robots to complete the complete reconstruction. He needed to help them along. He nodded to himself, “First stop, the forge.”

As he walked, he hummed the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Despite the darkness and the bloodshed of the day before, he was in a terrific mood. The predawn world was brisk and chipper, but not cold, and the birds were already trilling out their songs. The sun was beginning to come up in the east, but the stars still shone brightly overhead, a beautiful morning was destined to arrive, though what the rest of the day would hold… Jericho wondered how long the good weather would last.

He entered the outpost quietly through the heavy polymer sheet that hung in place of the previously sturdy doors into the overcrowded barracks. He moved cautiously stepping over the snoring, dreaming soldiers strewn about on the floor moving towards the other end of the barracks and the rest of the compound. He did not wish to wake the large number of off-duty soldiers that were attempting to rest in the early morning hours. Once he had made it through the veritable minefield of sleeping figures, Jericho turned towards the armory and repair facilities and moved swiftly down the hall. The man who was on duty outside of the doors quickly rose and stood at attention as Jericho approached him. “Good morning, sir Knight.”

“Good morning, indeed,” they both spoke quietly, the doors of the compound separating the barracks from the rest of the facilities were thick but that was no reason to be rude. “Could you please place this into the repair queue for the day?” He took the shield from his arm and handed it to the soldier. The man staggered under the weight of the heavy steel at first, the weight designed for a Templar Knight who could wield weapons significantly heavier than that to which the soldiers of Avalon were accustomed. But the man quickly recovered and entered the armory. He placed the shield on one of the various tables within that was piled with similarly dented or shattered weaponry.

Jericho felt a slight tinge of anxiety, “Make sure to take good care of that, it has been with me for a long time, and was originally forged by the smiths of Zion. I would be very cross should anything happen to it.”

The soldier looked first at Jericho, then at the shield, and then back at Jericho, “I will treat it as if it were my own, sir. It will get priority service with the full sized repair bath. It should be ready by lunch time at the latest.” Jericho nodded his approval and turned away from the soldier back down the hall and into the kitchens to use the back door (or should he say heavy, weather sheet?) out of the compound. He needed to get to the stables to meet his escort out of the base this morning. Once again, as he thought of his horse, he thanked God for his generosity in the Knights’ struggle against the demons.

After the horses had fled into the woods during the thralls’ attack, many had believed that it would take several hours if not days to track down all of the horses who had fled the smell of blood and fear. This was not to be the case however, as Jericho’s companion Charlemagne was amongst their number. Jericho entered the stables past the sleeping farrier towards the stall where his mighty charger stood.

He entered the stall and stroked the side of his horse as he whispered greetings to the black stallion. He loved his horse, as he had loved all the others that had served with him during his tenure as a Knight. The Templars’ horses were something special so much different from the relatively stupid creatures that they were born as. Something… amazing happened to the horses that lived and worked with the Knights of God. The process of selecting horses to serve the Templar was an involved one, and those Knights who were tasked with this duty were treated with upmost respect as their choices and preferences could easily mean the difference between life and death, pain and glory for all the knights in the Order.

The Templar High Command always selected and purchased the finest horses from the multiple breeders who worked in Avalon. They did this not only on the basis of size and strength but also on a feeling they got when they walked near the horses, as if God himself had whispered into their ears which beast before them was worthy to serve. The blessings that the Lord had bestowed on his warriors on Earth did not end with only their bodies. The companions upon which they rode benefited from working with the Templar as well. Their mounts lived almost three times as long as a regular horse in good health and physical condition before being retired to the pastures around Zion. They were incredibly more intelligent than the common horse, and if they had the physical ability, they would be able to speak coherently. As this was not the case, they made due with body language, sounds, and the many intricate codes that the Knights and they worked out in the first years of the horse’s training.

But perhaps the most useful aspect of the Templar horses was the fact that they could command their brethren to follow their will, which had proven particularly useful in past large-scale conflicts in which the Templar had employed a great deal of cavalry. When there was a need to organize and prepare a hasty charge, that the Templar were so apt to employ, their mounts were able to form up as quickly as a highly trained military company was. Should a Knight be working with the Army’s mounts, the effects were triply noticed as the horse upon which he or she rode was able to act as an officer in command of all the beasts around it. The Templar scientists had been unable to ascertain just how this psychological control was accomplished, but the results were magnificent and undeniable, the mounts of the Templar could enrage or calm their lesser brethren in a moment’s time.

The matching of Knight and horse was crucial to the survival of each individual within the relationship. The Knights were meant to be with the horses as much as the horses were meant to be with the Knights. This strange and inherent skill in the Templar horses had already proved to be of great service in Jericho’s mission here on the border. Instead of the soldiers spending hours upon hours searching the forest for their lost and scared horses, they had all walked back into camp ten minutes after the fight following the lead of Charlemagne, perfectly calm and organized as if they were out for a midmorning stroll rather than having run for their lives. They were re-secured in the stables in less time than it took to cart the first load of thrall bodies off the grounds of the compound.

Jericho smiled and whispered to his faithful companion, “And how did you sleep my friend? I feel terrific.” Jericho cooed at the horse as the beast shook the sleep from his body. The black horse rubbed his head against Jericho in his own greeting, affectionately returning the kindness that Jericho always showed him. Jericho smiled at the horse, he had already had eight such companions in his service to the Kingdom of Heaven, but Charlemagne had by far been his favorite for more reason than one. “Feel like going for a ride old friend?”

Charlemagne stomped his foot and nickered softly indicating his eagerness to be off. Jericho chuckled and began saddling the stallion. The whole time he did so he spoke softly to the horse telling him of his day, and how his report to Command had gone. Even though he got no responses, he knew that Charlemagne was listening and that he honestly cared about what Jericho was telling him, even if he could not really comment on any of the details. He valued the horse as a sounding board allowing him to organize his thoughts and review the previous day’s events so that he might observe where he had gone wrong or where he might improve.

As he was finishing saddling Charlemagne the two soldiers who were to accompany him to the nearby town of Kent arrived and began saddling and preparing their own horses to ride. Jericho smiled as he watched them place the bits behind their horses’ teeth. He smiled and scratched Charlemagne’s ears, “Are you not glad that you no longer need those?” The horse made a huffing sound that for all intents and purposes sounded like laughter. Jericho chuckled again and ruffled his friend’s mane as they moved outside.

Jericho mounted his horse his spear in one hand the other on the horn of the saddle, he felt oddly off balance without his shield. He sighed, though he had trained for many hours without it to avoid just that sort of sensation, he supposed that some habits and feelings never die, no matter how hard we fight against them. Shortly, the other riders joined them, and Jericho motioned for them to follow and whispered softly to Charlemagne, “Let us be off.” They moved at a decent pace towards Kent, but not so fast as to cause either horse or rider great discomfort. They had an entire hour and a half before they had to be at the train station and there was no need to exhaust their mounts.

They rode mostly in silence, it was early and the soldiers were still not fully awake, their guns hanging slackly from their shoulders. They knew as well as Jericho that while inside their own borders nothing was likely to happen and that they could let their guards down just a little bit even after such a ferocious attack the day before. And why not? They were traveling with a Templar Knight after all, and he was not likely to lower his guard as they did. The status of the knights was often enough for the soldiers of the Army to relax in similar situations across the kingdom.

Jericho smiled at this line of thought as he enjoyed the sounds of nature around him. It was a short ride to Kent and they made it there without incident about twenty minutes before the train was scheduled to arrive. They dismounted and Jericho and the soldiers sat on the only bench in the small waiting area of the Kent Rail station. There were large numbers of heavy loaders and stacking and delivery equipment up and down the rest of the platform that was used to unload imported goods and load the exportable lumber, which was the primary reason for this station in the first place, but the occasional person did travel out of, or through, Kent.

The train arrived on time as they always did in Avalon, coming down the tracks smoothly and with almost no noise besides the sound of the disturbance in the air. Trains had changed significantly in just Jericho’s lifetime. He remembered the “old” trains when he was just a boy growing up that still relied on “Old World” technology of diesel or electric power. But those had faded quickly as the Kingdom was able to grip some of the better ideas from the Old World. The trains that had been in use for the majority of Jericho’s centuries-long career had been magnet trains that were fast quiet and reliable, but rail technology had developed even further in the past thirty years. There had been a new and massive breakthrough in the Energy Research Department in Zion that had revolutionized almost every aspect of the daily lives of every citizen.

When Jericho had turned two hundred and fifty years old, the scientists in Zion had successfully developed and tested fusion power in a small controlled lab deep underground eighty kilometers outside of the capital city. The department had celebrated what they had believed to be the end of their endeavors for the betterment of Avalon as the energy crisis was over and the Kingdom would no longer have to rely on unreliable hydro and solar power. But the Templar command had had other ideas. Fusion power was not to be simply used only in generating electric power for the entire Kingdom; the scientists had to find ways to implement this advance across the board of transportation and general electric, food storage, processing, and industry.

All told, the process had taken another several years and countless headaches to perfect, but the results were incomparable. Trains, cars, airplanes, tanks, APCs, all now ran on engines with the power of the sun at their cores. But the progress did not stop there. One was now able to purchase any number of “battery” powered devices that ran on a fusion cell, cells that would never run out for the average life a person. Even the larger portable generators that one could buy in any department store all operated on a smaller version of the fusion reactor the scientists had invented, which originally took up the space of three square kilometers. The Kingdom now had cheap; continuously renewable energy to supply to all the citizens of Avalon whenever they needed it, waste was not even an issue as it had been in the earlier centuries of the Kingdom’s history. Everyone in every province could be running every appliance in his or her homes at the same time and it would only have tripped the first back up fusion plant, the other two would still lie dormant. However should the whole nation itself mobilized for war, running factories and personal stores day and night, it was quite possible that all four fusion reactors would have to run simultaneously at high output to power all of Avalon. However, that had never been tested, let alone needed.

Jericho pulled himself upright as the train glided to a halt in front of him and workers, that they had not seen previously, began to swarm over the platform unloading the cargo that was to be taken into Kent. In turn, they filled the flatbed cars with the fresh cut and processed lumber to be delivered to the rest of the Kingdom. They were professionals and they made the complicated process look easy, it was like watching an ant hive in action, each individual knowing their part and contributing to the overall success of the organization.

Jericho waited patiently for the courier that he expected to come off the train any second. The man did not disappoint, he exited the train quickly carrying a large box, which looked like a footlocker, clutched across his chest. The courier walked straight to Jericho and set the box in front of him, “Sir Knight, I have here for you the package that you requested. I need to see your identification.” The man was completely serious and Jericho chuckled. The Templar research and development scientists were so paranoid about losing their expensive, experimental guns. Jericho had read a report on the weapons’ potential in the hands of “unstable” citizens who might use them to wreak untold havoc in the streets. He thought it was ridiculous. Jericho gestured to the golden seal of the Templar High Command that was emblazoned over his left breast opposite the Red Tree.

The man nodded, but still set down the footlocker to draw out a handheld scanning device. The man passed it once over the seal and read the report that flashed on the devices screen. Apparently satisfied, the courier handed him a form and a pen, “Please sign here and here.” Indicating where and what he meant with bored gestures that he had probably performed hundreds of time.

Jericho signed quickly, “I am sure that you would like to embark on this train as it will get back to Dulas in an hour. Thank you for your time and send my regards to your superiors.”

The man hopped lightly back into the passenger car and saluted Jericho smiling, “Always a pleasure to meet a Templar.”

Jericho saluted back returning the smile. He turned to the two soldiers who were waiting patiently for him to complete the transaction. “Well friends shall we return home?”

The two soldiers who had been waiting patiently stood up and picked up the heavy case between them. They treated it gingerly having noted that it had been sent with a courier who not only wore body armor but also carried a machine pistol on his right hip. Jericho smiled at the men and instructed them to place the crate onto Charlemagne’s back; he would be able to take the extra weight and keep it steady during their long walk back. As they did sow, Jericho mused on the development, now we have all we need to even the scales a bit in this contest. The plot thickens. He chuckled at his cliché and followed the soldiers back to the tied up horses.

҂ ҂ ҂

Gawain awoke midmorning in the overcrowded barracks. He was fortunate to have been given one, even though he was a civilian, before the extra soldiers had arrived; and no one was going to tell him differently after the fight he and the others had survived the day before. He looked around to see that a good portion of the base was already out of bed repairing the main doors and attempting to clean the blood off the walls and floor. It was not going well for them; blood has a nasty way of staining whatever it touches and refusing to come out without a fight.

Gawain felt the heavy emptiness in his stomach that had persisted even after last night’s meal and went to collect breakfast. The mess hall was noisy and busy but not overfull; many had already come and gone reporting to duty earlier in the day. Gawain ate his breakfast alone and in silence not really paying attention, just trying to go through the motion of eating, not really caring what was going on around him.

He left the mess hall only ten minutes after he had entered and made his way towards the stable. His job had only gotten easier with the addition of the ten new horses. With them had come three other farriers and between the five of them they were able to feed the horses, muck out the stalls, and clean and oil the equipment in less time than it had when there were fewer men and fewer horses. Gawain thoroughly enjoyed this new development as it gave him even more free time to pursue his interests. Today, he was determined to learn a few things about shooting before returning to the mess hall to report to the cooks and ambush Jericho. The insufferable man had left him with another unanswered question two days before.

He made his way to the shooting range and practice field that were located about eighty meters to the north of the compound. Here all the soldiers were required to come at least once a week to practice both shooting and melee combat so that they did not become complacent, lazy, or out of practice, and end up getting themselves and others. He had been here before but Gawain had never gone into the rifle range and was interested to see if he would have any trouble gaining entrance. He approached the door considered knocking, decided against it and went inside. There at the desk in front of the heavy wooden door, that led into the practice field’s armory was Angela Frost. Aha! Gawain immediately thought, I had never noticed her around the compound because she works and probably sleeps out here with the secondary armory and weapons cache. That would explain a lot.

Gawain greeted her attempting not to show his eagerness at seeing her again, but he was not sure if he succeeded, “Hello Angela, fancy meeting you here.”

She lifted a single eyebrow, “I work here.”

This put Gawain off immediately; maybe she doesn’t like that sort of thing, “That isn’t important. I came here today because I have a question.” Her eyes darkened in thought and she stopped shuffling the papers in her hands, what she thought he was going to ask Gawain could only imagine, he had not done or said anything rude or forward and he could not believe that the simple statement had offended her. “I was wondering if I would be able to practice shooting here even if I am not really a member of the Army.”

Her expression immediately cleared on these words, Gawain was mystified by her behavior and reactions to his innocuous statements. “Normally Gawain the answer would be no, a civilian without clearance or a background check would never be allowed access to our training grounds.” This was not what Gawain had wanted to hear but before he could thank her for her time and leave, she continued, “But after yesterday I think a few exceptions to the rules can be made, even on my part.” She smiled that elusive, radiant smile and Gawain’s heart fluttered.

He smiled back unable to help himself, “Really, you won’t get into trouble for it?”

“I don’t think so, at least not with that Templar in charge of the whole operation for the next few days. I think he would believe your training to be a very good idea after what transpired here yesterday.”

Gawain nodded he had forgotten that the surly, by-the-numbers Grom was not the top of the chain-of-command right now since he had been the one giving Gawain his orders. The buck stopped with the Templar, “Well, what do I need to do in order to practice?”

She tapped the display in front of her and gout up out of her chair. Accompanied by a loud buzzing sound, the door behind her swung open, she moved inside the steel lined room. After some rustling and fumbling, she returned with a small rifle in one hand a box of bullets and several paper targets tucked under the other arm. She set them all on the desk before her, turned around, and resealed the door.

“This is a low powered rifle that will only shoot somewhere around one hundred meters though that won’t matter in there, but it has a similar grip, firing mechanism, and recoil to the rifle that you used yesterday. It fires these bullets, which are very new but were made in a very old style. They are gunpowder, low-caliber bullets that fire a slug through these paper targets into the dirt wall, very different from the rounds that you had to use in the rifle that we gave you yesterday. The targets are rather easy to set up though I will come with you to show you anyway as it will save you time.”

They moved towards one of the two doors on the opposite wall from the desk in the small room. She opened the left-hand door on the wall behind her and stood in the way holding the targets as Gawain scrambled to pick up the rifle and box of ammo to follow her. “Before you come in here you also need to grab a pair of safety glasses, and those ear-guards off of the rack there.” She pointed to a rack on the wall where a large row of yellow tinted safety glasses hung with the over the ear mufflers. Gawain added these to his left hand that only carried the box of ammo and moved through the now vacant threshold.

They moved to the far end of the long line of stalls where they stopped and faced down the range. She demonstrated the simple method of placing a target on the hook, then the buttons that sent and retrieved the target. “A few rules before I go.” Gawain nodded, “First always wear those safety glasses and earmuffs when loading and firing the rifle, never fire if someone is behind you, never cross behind anyone who is firing. Clean up the shell casings from off the floor and return the rifle, glasses, any extra bullets, and the ear-guards to me at the front desk before you leave. Do you know how to load that?”

As she had been speaking, Gawain had moved forward and placed the rifle and ammo onto the table in the stall placing the glasses and earmuffs on his head. He looked into her eyes in response to her question and playfully, “I am pretty sure I can figure it out; but if you would like to show me, I would not mind.” He was not eager to have her leave just yet.

She grinned at him, “No it is better if you learn yourself, if you want more targets, bullets, or to switch to a sidearm just come back to the main room and I will help you out.”

“Thanks” Gawain said to her retreating figure moving down the hall. She waved one hand back at him without turning around and closed the door into the main room behind her. Gawain turned back down the range and began to load the rifle absentmindedly. I wonder why she works here all alone… Is it something she asked for or was this detail something she was assigned for being off-putting and distant to all the other soldiers on the compound? I wonder why she seems as closed off to those around her as… as well me.

He aimed down range at the target that was set as far away as it would possibly go, some eighty meters away. He looked calmly and smoothly down the sight; slowly applying pressure, he squeezed the trigger on the gun. The resulting explosion was more than he had expected, the recoil was about the same as the gun that he had used during the battle with the thralls but the sound of the gunpowder explosion was first off louder and secondly magnified and enhanced by the enclosed space in which he was standing. He paused for a moment deafened and stunned, after a few seconds the pain and shock receded and he returned to conscious thought. Well I guess you learn something new every day…

He sighted down the gun again now taking his time and shooting slowly, he knew what to expect now, but he was in no rush. He did not have to go to the mess-hall or meet Jericho for lunch for another hour or so and this was as good a way to kill time as he could think of now. Well, maybe not, the best way he would have preferred to pass the time. He stopped when he had emptied the entire contents of the magazine into the target. When he got it back to his station, he was astounded. All of the hits had gone through the center of where he had aimed in various parts on the target, two or three deviating only a fraction of centimeter from the ones that had previously gone before leaving a curious ven-diagram effect in the paper. Gawain was puzzled; well it seems that I do not really need to practice shooting after all.

What was puzzling him was the fact that he had missed so frequently when the thralls had been charging the walls of the compound. It’s so different when you can take your time and be careful; when you are not desperately trying to end as many of the charging “targets” as you possibly can before they reach you. This is a whole different ball game, almost too easy. Gawain frowned down at the target knowing that if he had been this accurate during the battle things would have gone a little differently. He reassured himself with the knowledge that not even trained soldiers could be calm and collected in that sort of situation, and that even they would make mistakes in the heat of battle.

He was so intensely focused on this new thought process that he had not noticed that Angela had returned having walked up while he had been staring at the target. She was now standing beside him once more. She waited a few seconds but he still did not notice her and continued to stare down at the punctured target before him lost in thought. She decided to break the silence for him. “Hi, there.”

Gawain jumped and turned around a fearful look in his eye as he searched for and quickly found the source of the voice. “Oh”, his face was such a mixture of confusion and brooding that he looked most comical.

She laughed at him merrily, “Oh? Oh is right.” Gawain looked away from her his cheeks tinged red from his embarrassment. “I heard when you stopped firing and thought you might want to change weapon types for a while.”

Gawain looked at her again and at the weapon she held out towards him. It was the exact same type of pistol that he had fired yesterday, though this one looked a little more worn around the grip. “We don’t have spare pistols here to practice with as they are standard issue for every soldier and they simply bring their own. We do however have a large supply of ammo here that can be used to practice with by any soldier who may need to. This one is mine; would you care to practice with pistols or are you finished for the day?”

Gawain was still a little taken aback by being caught off-guard but then laughed at her droll comments. He was pleased that she was willing to lend him her firearm; it showed some modicum of trust. “Yes, thank you.” He took the pistol from her and handed her the rifle and the ammunition for it. Before she could walk away again he asked, “Anything special I should know about this one?”

She looked openly at him a smile tracing the edge of her lips; “That pistol fires a much more deadly type of ammo as you witnessed during the battle, have an accident with one of those and whoever is on the receiving end will either be missing a limb or have their entrails sprayed over the wall, be careful. The only other things that are important to remember are that a pistol’s effective range is much less than its long barreled brothers, and that if you fire it like you did yesterday spraying bullets all over at random you will be lucky to hit anything let alone avoiding yourself.”

“Alright that sounds straight forward enough.” Her frankness on the subject of horrific injury and death once again disturbed Gawain. This time she did walk away before Gawain could say any more and her absence disheartened him slightly. He turned back to the range and sent another hapless target down it, only this time not as far. If what Angela told him were true, he should not need to use a pistol if the target was as more than thirty meters away from him.

He only had the rounds that were in the pistol Angela either had forgotten or had purposefully not brought extra rounds with which he could practice. He did not care, his mind was on other things and the practice he was getting only distracted his hands allowing his mind to wander free.

He squeezed off a few rounds into the target focusing on different parts to see if he could hit them with the same accuracy, he had enjoyed using the rifle. The pistol was far quieter than the rifle had been though when the rounds from the pistol hit any part of the range they made loud and horrible explosions that left circles of residue behind them or caused a hail of dirt to fly up. Gawain grimaced as he imagined what would be left of his foot if he would accidentally fire the pistol while attempting to replace it in a holster. The gun was easy enough to work with, though the shock to his wrist was more jarring and violent than the rifle had been to his shoulder. When it got too bad, he simply switched hands for a few shots, testing his ability with his less dominant hand.

As he continued punishing the targets, he mused, Life has certainly gotten more interesting in the past five days than I ever thought it would. No one at home would have believed that I would have killed over two dozen thralls, met a Templar Knight who is teaching me history, learned to fight with both a gun and an axe, or even just been working for the Army. Not the weirdo Gawain, not that grumbly individual who had to sit out every major event they had at school. Who skipped class just so he would not have to face the jokes and the sneers again. Whose mother... whose mother... Gawain’s face set into a snarl as he thought of the way the others in his life had treated him and he quickly fired the last four rounds of the pistol into the target in rapid succession. The gun clicked once when it was empty and then was silent no matter how many times he pulled at the trigger in his blinding fury. His rage had caught him quickly and suddenly and he did not realize how angry he was until he mashed the button to recall the target so hard that it hurt his finger.

The pain had a sobering effect on him and caused him to what he was doing. He did not really care, the rage was liberating, though someone in the back of his mind reminded him that handling dangerous weapons while rage drunk was probably not the best idea. He growled at nothing in particular, that voice was usually right.

He set the pistol down gently and began breathing with slow deliberation. On the other hand, since I have been here, not one person has seemed to think I was overly strange or unlikable, and none of them know my past so long as I don’t tell them. Some of them even seemed to enjoy my presence, like Jericho and even Captain Grom. This thought smoothed his ruffled feathers and allowed him to calm down if not completely.

He looked blankly at the shredded target in front of him, the pistol was so much deadlier than the low powered rifle it was almost comical. If this mangled piece of what was once a target was the result of the bullets simply passing through it… he remembered how the heads and bodies of the demon thralls had popped and exploded when he had managed to hit them not so long ago. He shuddered involuntarily for a moment as the memory of the violence returned to his mind’s eye.

He began walking towards the main room the pistol carried lightly in one hand and the targets in the other. That’s another thing I should ask Jericho if I get the chance, what exactly were demon thralls, why do they exist, and why did they behave the way they did? Everyone else seemed to know already. Gawain entered the room to see Angela facing him, watching the door expectantly. She stood up as Gawain entered hand outstretched waiting for the pistol. Gawain laid it in her hand and forgot his thoughts for a moment focusing completely on the powerful presence she had about her. “Thank you for lending me your pistol, Angela, I did need the practice.”

She shrugged ejecting the magazine from the gun and slowly reloading it from a box on her desk. “Better to learn then to live in ignorance.”

Gawain was struck with a sudden thought. He hesitated, do I dare? As it turned out, he did, “Angela?”

Not looking up from her mundane task she grunted, “Hmm?”

“If I may ask, do you stay out here all by yourself?” Gawain’s words were light, attempting an air of frivolity, but he was cautious he did not know how she would react.

Her actions froze, she slowly looked up into his eyes searching him for the intent that lay behind them, “Yes,” she answered hesitantly “but I eat at the base, and the soldiers report here for their weekly practices fairly frequently.” Her words were slow and measured and she seemed to be emphasizing the fact that she was rarely alone at any time of the day.

“Oh, ok. I had just wondered because I hadn’t noticed you in the compound’s barracks before and was wondering where you stayed is all.” Gawain attempted to keep his voice airy but he was not sure if he had succeeded. Angela did not look convinced.

“Ok.”

“Ok” Gawain agreed.

“If that will be all Gawain I am sure there are things that are more important for you and me both to be doing.” Her voice had a tone of finality that Gawain did not like, but he was not about to make her more uncomfortable then he already had.

“Alright, maybe I will see you later on then.” Gawain opened the door to the outside.

“Maybe, farewell Gawain.” She turned back to the holographic display in front of her and began selecting certain items and removing them from the base’s inventory.

Gawain slowly walked back down the pleasant forest path on the grey midmorning. He wondered why she seemed so nervous around him even though he had been nothing but nice. He wondered if Jericho would know anything about it, and whether or not it would be impolite or improper to ask him. While he was running through all the possible scenarios that might play out if he did have the nerve to pry into Angela Frost’s social life, he ended up back in the grounds of the compound.

He looked up surprised that the walk had seemed so much shorter on the way back then it had on the way there. He smiled at himself, I don’t think I have ever been this absent minded before. I mean I have seen and talked to people who have walked all the way home without seeing the world around them, but I have never been one of them. Maybe I just never had that much to think about before. Life gets complicated, or so they say. He began towards the mess hall to report to the, now only, cook under Grom’s command to clean off the tables before the first lunch rush hit. Oh, that will not be fun, between the original troops, the ones from O’Riley’s command and the soldiers who were slowly returning from their service with the SLC they would have to do somewhere around three lunches and dinners to serve them all, that is going to be taxing on both our food supplies and the poor cook. Maybe there is someone else who knows how to cook that can help the poor man.

These thoughts carried him all the way into the kitchen where he encountered the outpost’s beleaguered cook and what appeared to be two or three soldiers who he had drafted into service as his assistants. The cook looked frazzled and over worked as he tried to balance giving instructions to the three new helpers in the room while also trying to get the more complicated tasks done himself. He had been in the middle of explaining to one assistant for the third time how to peel a potato properly when Gawain entered. The cook looked up in fear at first at the slamming of the door, then with relief when he saw it was Gawain.

“Thank God you’re here, I have been having an awful morning thus far and I don’t think my day is going to get better.” The man’s voice was exasperated his expression tired, and it was only eleven o’clock in the morning. “I need to you to wipe down the tables and then get in here to help these sorry bastards. Do you remember anything about the food prep from the past two days you’ve been here?”

The man was desperate grasping at the only familiar face that he had ever been in the kitchen before, and Gawain empathized with him. No Gawain had not paid much attention to his or anyone’s actions when they were in the kitchen but he did not want to disappoint the man, “Yeah I remember a thing or two about kitchen work, when I get back in you just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Oh good, good, hurry up now we only have thirty minutes before the beginning of the first lunch shift, every second counts.” With that, he turned away and began furiously mashing potatoes in the large pot in front of him, a look of silent frustration in his eyes.

Gawain quickly moved out of the chaos of the Kitchen to the relatively still and quiet dining area. He went through the motions of taking down the chairs and placing them under the tables, followed by the quick spritzing of cleaning solution and a hasty wipe down. He was usually more thorough with his cleaning job, but he did not think the cook would be able to handle it if Gawain did not come back as quickly as he could. The man was liable to snap under the pressure. Gawain smiled at the image. Even though it was dark humor, it was still funny.

He moved back towards the kitchen doors after having stowed the rag and cleaning solution in the cabinet under the counter where the food was served. Gawain set his jaw and prepared himself for the whirl of activity that he was about to participate in for the next twenty or so minutes. When he walked through the doors, the cook was waiting for him, “Alright quick, you see that man trying to spread caramelized sugar over those apples?”

“Yes I do.”

“Well get over there and tell him that he is supposed to be spreading that over the apple pie not the apples themselves. Actually, you know what, just take the sugar from him and do it yourself. Have him take out the garbage and then clean up the mess he has made.” The cook rushed away again leaving Gawain to his task.

Gawain gently informed the confused soldier that he was going to take that from him and that he could do some simpler tasks for the next few minutes. The man looked at him with dumb gratitude at being allowed to escape the cook’s wrath as he listened to Gawain’s instructions. The man moved away slowly and cautiously not wanting to knock anything to the ground to further catch the attention of the man who was steaming like a teapot. Gawain chuckled at the man silently as he walked away, that aint no way for a soldier to make a living. Gawain bit his tongue to prevent himself from laughing aloud for real and turned to the task at hand.

He had to hand it to the cook, even with inferior support staff and an increase in demand; he was making good food for the soldiers who were staying at the base. Gawain’s mouth was watering the whole time he stood above the fresh apple pies smothering them with sugar, the smells of the kitchen growing exponentially every time a dish was completed and was set out for serving. Gawain went about the task slowly not wanting to finish before the lunch began and be assigned a new task that he may or may not be able to handle. Besides, he was actually scheduled for the first lunchtime slot and would soon be off-duty. He was not looking forward to informing the cook of that fact however, the man was probably counting on him to help serve the forty or so men and women who were about to come seeking their midday meal.

The time passed quickly the whirl of activity in the kitchen slowly calming down as more food was completed and set on the counter to be served. Gawain sighed as he finished the last pie, the cook and these impromptu assistants had probably spent all morning since breakfast working on this food. It would all be gone in three hours and then they would have to start on the next great endeavor, dinner. He looked at the clock on the wall and noted that it was eleven twenty-eight, the cook and two other of the assistants stood at the counter awaiting the arrival of the first group of hungry soldiers.

Before that could happen, Gawain walked over and stated, “Excuse me, but I actually am scheduled to eat with the first group of soldiers today.”

The cook turned his tired eyes on Gawain, “Oh of course you are, I remember reading that on the schedule for the day. Here take this,” he piled a plate with mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of ham and peas handing him a glass so that he could get what he wanted from the dispensers in the hall, “and you can have a whole half a pie if you want it. You more than earned that with the work you did today.”

Gawain smiled at the man until he smiled back, “That is all right I will just take a wedge out of one of them, I don’t want anyone to miss out on your masterpieces today.”

The cook laughed heartily Gawain’s attempt at flippant flattery. He moved towards the pies, cut out a sizable slice for himself, and placed it on his plate. Because Gawain was in the kitchens and because the cook was in such a good mood with him now, Gawain also opened the cupboard beneath the pies and put a large dollop of cream onto his slice of pie. He smiled at the meal before him eager to begin while he waited for Jericho to arrive.

When he went into the mess hall, the first group of soldiers was walking in and making a beeline for the serving counter. Gawain knew that there was going to be competition for seating today and he did not want to have to fight with anyone, he hastened over to one of the smaller four person tables near the double doors and sat down. In only five minutes, the entire hall was filled and noisy, though no one had asked to sit with Gawain. The clattering of silverware and the humming of voices drowned at all the thoughts in his mind until the Knight walked into the room. Jericho was impossible to miss, he was bulky and tall, not to mention the fact that his armor shone and sparkled brilliantly in whatever light in which he found himself.

Jericho scanned the room until he caught Gawain’s eye, oh good he is already here that will save me some waiting. Jericho moved into the long line of people awaiting their food and prepared to ride out the queue. This was not to be however because one of the men who he had healed the day before saw him moving to the back of the line. The man insisted that Jericho take his place second from the front no matter how profusely Jericho protested the impropriety of such a thing. Rather than causing a scene with the man and holding up everyone’s lunch Jericho acceded to the large smile of the fawning man who stepped out of line allowed Jericho in and then moved to the back of the queue himself. Despite himself, Jericho was pleased to see the man so vivacious and willing to give. It also happened that Jericho was very hungry and not having to wait to receive the aromatic food only improved his mood.

He collected his food and moved towards the eagerly motioning Gawain. As he walked towards him, he felt a moment of chagrin, but I want to have a question answered too. That boy has a reason for being here and I am going to figure out what it is. He sat down opposite Gawain and began with the customary pleasantries that one always should.

“And good afternoon Gawain, how are you feeling today?”

“I am feeling pretty good actually,” Gawain sounded eager as if the darkness of the previous day had not touched him as it had so many others, “But I am really more concerned about how you are feeling after yesterday’s events you seemed on the verge of collapse when I last saw you.”

Jericho chuckled again, “That I was young master. That I was. This life I lead is not always as easy as I would like, but it is never dull. That is for sure.”

Gawain smiled at him and continued with only a second’s hesitation, “Well Jericho, as I promised you’ve the first question of the day. Whenever you are ready.”

Jericho smiled back, “Oh you should not have said that Gawain. Now, I am going to have to take you up on that offer.” Jericho then proceeded to ignore deliberately Gawain and everyone else in the room while he began his meal. Gawain did not seem overly disturbed as he eagerly dug into the food as well.

A few minutes passed without either party saying anything, but after swallowing, a particularly large bite of food Jericho cleared his throat. Jericho looked somberly at Gawain his voice calm and collected but with a pronounced amount of interest he began, “Gawain you have been with the Army now for three or four days. You have proven yourself a credit to your country and an asset to those around you, but there is an aspect of your presence here which has befuddled me some.” He paused allowing the praise to breakdown the defenses set in front of him before continuing, “Why do you not want to go back to Kent?”

Gawain slowly lowered the fork back to his plate and pushed the tray farther into the center of the table. The effect on his mood was immediate. The smile ran off his face, and he crossed his arms defensively, “Well Jericho, that is tough question. It’s a long story.”

Jericho nodded, he had expected nothing less, and was not going to allow Gawain to renege on his promise to him. “We have some time Gawain, but if it is too uncomfortable, you could wait to answer that question until there are fewer people around us.”

Gawain glanced around them at the loud and happy individuals eating their food. “No this is as good as time as any. Besides, I don’t think any of them care about the reasons why I am the way I am, and why I don’t want to go home.”

Gawain began his story slowly and clumsily. He did not seem to know where or how to begin. Jericho simply sat and listened to everything without passing judgment. He only interjected if he were confused on some fact or issue for which he wished clarification. And as his narrative continued, he grew steadily more comfortable and confident in his speech.

“Well Jericho, I feel that going home is quite possibly the worst thing I could do right now. You see... I mean... the people there they don’t really want me to come back. They don’t want to see me and I don’t want to see them. I grew up in a small town of six hundred people, most were related, if distantly, and everyone was in everyone’s business all the time.

It started when I was very young, when I was only eight. My father left my mother for some reason or another and went to Dulas leaving us behind. I never did find out why, but it was well before I knew the real problems of the world and my mother never spoke of it. After that, a few months passed and then something really bad happened, my mother started drinking, a lot. You see, she was depressed by the loss of my father, she really did love him, though I can’t imagine why. My mother and I didn’t talk about it. That first phase of her depression was tolerable, there were plenty of other kids with alcoholic parents even though theirs went to work and mine didn’t.

Back then, all I had to deal with was the fact that we were poor, poorer even than everybody else was. And everyone knew it. My clothes were old and patched, and most days of the week, they did not fit. I was only ten years old, but already I was dealing with trying to hold my house together. I would get through the day at school as quickly as I could and then go home to take care of my mother who had probably already spent the charity check on another round of boozing, but who otherwise couldn’t really take care of herself, she had broken down too far. I was more mature and responsible than my thirty-year-old mother by the time I was twelve. She was kind to me in those days, appreciating everything I did for her, but the kids at school didn’t really get me. They did not understand why I was so tired and angry all the time, and they soon began to make fun of the way I dressed and the way I behaved, it was not... great.”

Jericho nodded here and inserted a thought that he felt that he should share, “Yes it is a problem that concerns us very greatly. Parents and teachers need to get greater reign over the mouths of the children under their care. The Committee on Public Education is currently debating over what is the best course of action to take. Gawain it pains us to see the children hating each other so, it goes against everything we believe.”

Gawain sneered, “Even so, it’s too little too late to help me. I closed myself off from most of the people in my school only keeping one or two friends dear to my heart. Kyle and Brendan were brothers, and they were very good friends of mine during those years of middle school and the first year of high school. But then, the situation got even worse than I could have imagined. My mother switched from drinking to harder drugs. I guess the high she was getting from the booze was not pushing the pain she felt far enough away. During the first year of high school, my mother found a contact somehow and became a heroine junky. That was when things got really ugly for me,” Gawain grimaced involuntarily as he uncomfortably dredged these memories from the years past. Gawain shuddered as he spoke.

Jericho blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes, as Gawain looked down at his knuckles, unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer. The knight bit back a platitude as Gawain continued, “When she went on her binges she was fine, too mellow and high to do me any harm, but as you know the charity checks aren’t that large, really only able to keep a household on its feet long enough to allow the members to find work again, and heroine hard to get, and so hard to pay for. She was only able to satisfy her need about two days a week and the rest of the time, she went through periods of hard withdrawal both from the drugs and from the numbness that came with’em. Without her high, she was forced to realize how shitty everything was. She didn’t take to that so good. She took it out on me. I was only fourteen. During her off days, she would yell and cuss at me blaming me for all the troubles in her life from her lack of drugs to the reason my father left in the first place. She…” his voice caught a second, but he continued, “beat me. A lot. I think she wanted someone else to feel as bad as she did. She got what she wanted, at least often enough.

Gawain looked up as he stated firmly, “I love my mother very much and I never raised a hand against her Jericho, but what she did to me was unforgivable.” When Jericho did not respond, he went on, “I started spending as much time away from the house that I could. I spent all the time I could with Kyle and Brendan, and for the first year of high school, their house was my refuge. But then something changed, I do not know why these things only seemed to happen to me, but they do. As you know the high school culture shifts dramatically when the rebellion phase kicks in. Well, my friends were no exception; they didn’t appreciate the Templar and their rhetoric of abstinence and temperance. Brendan and Kyle went down the path with the majority of my high school class. They began drinking, smoking, going to parties, and they both got girlfriends who they spent all their time with. They invited me along of course. And for a while, I went with them, but I just couldn’t spend all my time away from home or my mom would die. Plus I have always been a little afraid of alcohol. You know, since I saw what it did to my mom.

After a while, I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to do the same things they were doing, and so I didn’t. So through no fault of theirs, my friends slowly drifted away from me, made new friends, and became rather popular with the rest of the students in the school. When they stopped spending time with me… Well, let’s just say I got to spend more time at home. And life got hard, even harder than it was before… that woman!” Gawain’s rage was barely contained, and as he forced out the last word a single tear slipping down his face. Gawain couldn’t look at Jericho, and he quickly smeared the bead of water off his cheek in embarrassment.

Jericho rose quickly. Getting to his feet, he moved to the chair next to the young man. He set a hand onto his shoulder and pulled him against his side. Gawain stiffened at the contact and Jericho could fell him resist the urge to push against him and reject the touch. So Jericho spoke, his voice emotional while tears flowed freely down his face, the suffering before him was so real “Gawain, Gawain. I know it means nothing, but I am sorry, so very sorry. No child should have to bear the sins of their parents.”

Gawain met Jericho’s eyes then, and he could see the sudden change that went through them. First the anger cooled, followed by a searching confusion, and finally humor. Gawain began to laugh. His mirth shook his whole body rattling Jericho’s chainmail. Jericho ended the embrace and stared at Gawain. And while he was glad to see the boy smiling, he was not sure of its cause, “Gawain are you all right? What is so funny?”

Gawain composed himself after another few seconds, “It’s nothing Jericho, nothing. It’s just, that I remember thinking when I first met you only a few days ago that you had probably not cried in decades, and here you are large as life crying all over my stupid story.”

Jericho’s face cracked into a wide smile, “Only a coward is afraid to feel the pain of those around him. Do you think I am a coward Gawain?”

The question was rhetorical and a joke, but Gawain’s face grew serious, his eyes wide, “No, no, you are one of the bravest men I have ever met Jericho. I saw how you fought the thralls, and how you healed the wounded.”

Jericho returned to his seat across from Gawain again. As he did so, he checked his wrist readout. He still had quite a long time before he had a strategy meeting with the officers on the base. “Well thank you for the compliment Gawain. I can see that this conversation has upset you very greatly, if you do not wish to continue it I will understand. I had no idea the amount of stress it would cause you.”

Gawain shook his head, “There is not much more to tell and I am already rolling through it, might as well keep going.”

Jericho nodded gravely, his tone careful, “As you wish.”

Gawain cleared his throat before continuing, “Needless to say since I did not participate in anything at school or out of it. I was a bit of a loser and an outsider. I started skipping school to avoid the people there, and started locking myself in my room whenever I did not have to cook or clean up after my mother When she let me, I tried to return that love and kindness, she had shown me when I was younger.

With not much else to do, I began spending a lot of time on the nets, pirating our neighbor’s signals to access the mainframe. The tech I had was old and out of date but I made the most of it. I found music that I liked, even though most of it is old by most standards. It was perfect for me, and I could spend hours just lying on my bed with the songs on repeat, losing myself in them...

Apart from that, I discovered virtual realities and video games. I had an old gen 3D holographic projector that only worked half the time, so I could not really get into the newer games. Instead, I turned to the archives for the games that were public access. I cannot tell you the numbers of hours that I wasted playing games that most people don’t even care about anymore. I am actually glad that I had that old 2D screen even though no one’s seriously used them in like eighty years! It allowed me to play so many more games than I would have been able to if I had had to use our rundown 3D system. Those games allowed me to escape into worlds where I could shape the course of the world, fall in love, conquer my enemies with shear will, places that were just for me, places that I will never forget because those long dead, crafted worlds where I could live even if I had to come back to reality eventually. Does that sound stupid?”

Jericho shook his head vehemently, “Of course not Gawain, most of us have experienced such things before. The temptation of escapism is great. I spend a lot of my time reading in the same way. Wishing to lose myself, as much as I can, in the lives of the characters on the page.”

Gawain shrugged, “Well good, I always thought it was a little weird. I am glad other people do it too. Anyway, after I graduated High School by the skin of my teeth I started working for the SLC. They took me readily because at that point I was already taller than anybody else in town. I had been using the school’s gym after school so that I would look tired enough for my mom to think I was asleep in my room.

I thought that the job would fix things. I could make money, move out of my mother’s house, and finally start a life of my own. But Kent is a small town, too small. Most all the guys in my graduating class started working for the SLC too. And so the prejudices that they had held against me in High School followed me into the workplace, though to be fair many people had left to go to schools in Dulas or the rest of the Kingdom. It didn’t matter all the older workers also knew who I was, and what my mother was. I could not escape the past. I did manage to move out of my mother’s house into a small apartment of my own, but I still had to go back almost every day to make sure that she was eating and to clean up her house so that she did not get some sort of horrible disease from the filth she would have lived in. And that is that, I have been working for the SLC ever since and now here I am.

I don’t want to go back, because there is nothing there for me but a job and a small dark apartment. Here I have a purpose, and I serve a great cause. Plus I get to ask you as many annoying questions as you let me! I can’t think of a better place to be!”

Jericho nodded as he reconciled his new vision of Gawain’s reluctance to return home, I probably would not want to return either. The outpost actually offers the chance of a new beginning unlike anything he has ever experienced before. I hope that it all works out for him. He refocused his attention, “Gawain I only have one more question.”

Gawain was puzzled; he had been as thorough as he thought possible, “Oh?”

“Well I was just curious where does your Uncle Simon fit into this story?”

Gawain nodded, “Simon is my mother’s brother. He knows full well that she has a problem, but he has a large family of his own and he and his wife is already overworked trying to care for their nine kids. However, two of his kids are on their own now. They graduated this year from the University of Granada. I think he might be able, if maybe unwilling, to take my mother on now.”

“You know Gawain, you could have told the Templar garrison in Dulas about her problem they would have been able to help.”

“No, I couldn’t. If I did, it would only have made things worse. She was already ashamed of her life. I did not want her to be even more humiliated than she already has been.”

“Alright Gawain if that is how you feel I will not tell you differently. Now I have no more questions for you on this subject. Is there anything you wanted to ask me before I have to go in about forty minutes?”

Gawain, collecting his thoughts. After a moment he asked, “Well I did want to know what exactly demon thralls are. Everyone seemed to know what was going on but me, are they humans or do they just appear that way?”

Jericho sighed, “That Gawain is a very sad, and a very good question.” He sat back against the chair slouching down into it, the chair bent and flexed in response to the man’s weight. If it had not been designed to withstand the abuses of the soldiers, it would most likely have snapped in half right then and there. “Yes they are humans, every last one of them. They were taken or born into the service of the demons. Did you notice the tattoos on their foreheads?”

Gawain squinted his eyes trying to remember, “No, I remember the smudges in the middle of their heads, but I just thought that was more of the dirt that seemed to cover the rest of their bodies.”

Jericho chuckled, “Would that it were only dirt. That my friend is the legendary and infamous Mark of the Beast bestowed either by a greater demon or by the evil one himself. We have never encountered the Devil, nor have we any records of him ever have taking part in this never-ending struggle between the forces of Heaven and Hell. We therefore surmise that one of the greater demons that stalk the land marked all the demon thralls that exist today. The thralls literally get their names from the process the demons employ to create them; they are enthralled, enraptured with the temptation and allure of one of the mighty foes of humanity. The demon than places the mark on their foreheads and from that point on they are forever more subservient to their will.”

“What are the greater demons?” Gawain asked.

“Yet another great question and an important one. There are several greater demons that we struggle against, as they are the most powerful adversaries we have. They are crafty and rarely appear in the open, happier to act through the lesser demons, and minions at their disposal.”

“Lesser demons?”

Jericho chuckled again, “Gawain if you want any of your questions to get answered completely you are going to have to calm down and let me speak.”

Gawain grinned at Jericho, “Only if you promise to hurry up old man, I haven’t got all day.”

Jericho was astonished at the affront for a second, but he quickly saw the playfulness behind the statement and relaxed, and even laughed a bit, “Oh I shall take as long as I please. It is but one privilege of a long life of service. Anyway, please do not interrupt as I now attempt to answer your multi-tiered questions. The Templar classify the demons into three separate categories based on the relative danger they pose to us and to humanity as a whole. Demons go by many names and titles, but we refer to them by the name of the emotions and vices that we associate with them. Lesser demons are the bottom tier. Any knight of God can easily defeat them, and any citizen of the empire could easily identify the effects of the demons on their mentality. They are the easiest to resist and are most often employed as shock troops in conflicts, and as lieutenants in “peace time” operations. The most familiar names these types of demons go by are, Impatience, Ignorance, Frivolity, and Pettiness, only weaker minds amongst humanity are truly vulnerable to their influence.

There is a second tier of demons in between the lesser and greater demons. These middle demons are about equivalent to a captain or colonel in the demon armies, and they are much cleverer than the lesser demons and so are often put in charge of the operations that the greater demons want done. I believe one such demon was responsible for your capture Gawain.”

Gawain looked up with renewed interest in the conversation, “Really?”

“Yes really, though which name he goes by I will not know until I have to meet him myself.”

“You mean you are going to fight him?” Gawain’s eyes were wide and his tone was awestruck.

“Who else did you think would be able to do it?”

“Well I don’t know. I don’t even know what the demons are capable of let alone who is a match for them.”

“When I meet the demon who is tormenting our borders, it will be an even match in terms of experience and strength. He has every bit as much of a chance of striking me down as I do of exorcising him. However, the Templar have an advantage that the demons do not. We have spent many hundreds of years practicing and preparing for the inevitable conflicts against the demons, so that when we should meet them we can identify their influence rapidly and counteract it.”

“And how is that done?” A bit of awe crept into his tone.

“It is a very complicated process and must be perfected before a Knight is allowed to graduate into service. Nevertheless, the mid-range demons go by these names most frequently, Apathy, Jealousy, Want, Waste, Revelry and so on. They would easily be able to overpower any number of ordinary humans either with their dark influence, or with their sheer physical strength. I once saw a jealousy demon pick up an APC full of troops and throw it twenty feet away, but they often prefer to avoid armed conflict when they can. No Templar Knight is nearly that strong, but what we lack in brute strength, we make up for in skill and the blessings of the Lord.

And the last and most deadly category of demons is the greater demons. These are the ones that the common citizens of the empire are most familiar with, they feature greatly in films both old and new, as well as being popularly discussed in schools for the interesting stories one can tell about the Old World and the havoc the greater demons wrought within it. A greater demon can only be defeated by a coalition of Knights somewhere around thirty or so strong, and even then it is a tossup, though their chance of survival dramatically increases if either a Paladin or a Templar Lord is part of the group.”

Gawain looked like he wanted to ask about Paladins and Templar Lords as well, but quickly bit it back as Jericho continued, “The greater demons go by names that most anyone can identify with ease, the Old World called them by the same names and the Old Church called them the seven deadly sins. However, we now know that there are more than seven. The short list is, Wrath, Greed, Covetousness, False Religion, Pride, Lust, War, Sloth, Hunger, Despair, and so on and on. They are the most deadly foes humanity has ever known and they stand at the forefront in the battle against Heaven. Where they walk Templar tremble, it is through their influence that Thralls are created. A demon looks into a human heart and causes that person to fall in love with their specific trait. The thralls will gain skills such as mental connection to the wills of their masters, immense pleasure from any demon they are near, and the demons gain unswervingly loyal soldiers who will never stop trying to accomplish their goals until the life has completely left their bodies. They are one of the oldest and most perverse of the creations the demons invented to send against Avalon. We believe that the demon thralls creation predates even the formation of the Knights Templar. We also know that the collection squads that attack our borders often are doing that not just to harass us, but the secure ever more sources of demon thralls.

You saw what it was like to fight the demon thralls; they would not give up until all their major organs shut down. They charge into battle with great joy and excitement, literally dying to please their masters.”

Gawain was nodding, that all made sense and answered the question of both the demons and their thralls, but something was bothering Gawain. Jericho could see the question bubbling just under the surface of Gawain’s expression. He smiled at him, “Please by all means ask your question Gawain, I have time for one more short answer before I will have to leave you here.”

Gawain looked at the clock on the wall, it was true there was only ten minutes left in this lunch shift, and the mess hall was already emptying out. He would have to be quick if he even wanted to cover the two topics he had left. “Well it’s just that I am confused you seemed to call both the mid-demons and the greater demons by the same names. Greed and Want, Jealousy and Covetousness, Waste and Sloth, aren’t those just synonyms?”

Jericho smiled, many failed to see the distinctions, Gawain was not the first nor would he be the last, “Well that makes sense Gawain they are synonyms, but the degree of obsession that accompanies them is where the distinctions lie. For instance, I may want a better house, or a bagel for breakfast instead of cereal and those facts might make me a little agitated for a very short period, but I would certainly not kill someone for a bagel just because I wanted it. At least not under normal circumstances, that is why Hunger is one of the greater demons as well.

However greed, covetousness, that is much stronger, Greed strikes men to their cores and brings out the worst in them. Men have killed one another for wealth and land for as long as humans have existed on this earth. For another example, jealousy is felt by all, but we rarely act upon those thoughts, maybe making a rude comment behind someone’s back who is better off than we are. But covetousness strikes a man so deeply. He will become so obsessed as to steal, rape, kill, or burn down the whole world to achieve his goal. Do you see the distinction?”

“Yes I think I do. That’s a bit nerve-wracking… Thanks.”

“That is quite alright Gawain. As always I am happy to help, but if you will excuse me I must be going.” Jericho got up out of his chair and picked up his tray to go, but Gawain held up his hand.

“Just one more, quick question before you go.”

Jericho smiled and sat back down, “As long as it is quick.”

“Do you know a Private Angela Frost’s story?” Gawain’s voice was hopeful but he would not meet Jericho’s gaze.

Jericho scrunched his eyes as he tried to recall all the personnel files that he had reviewed before coming to the outpost. Frost? Frost? That name is certainly familiar but I do not remember why. I remember her file had a flag on it meaning that she had already had dealings with Templar high command in her lifetime though I think it was not something she had done, but rather an appeal she had made to the courts. He dug deep past all the memories from the past few days, through all the information he had recalled for Gawain, and then he remembered. To Gawain it looked that Jericho was having a heart attack. His face went rigid, his expression pained and angry all at once. His body was still and his hands were clenched together so hard that Jericho’s knuckles had turned white.

Gawain was a little afraid, “Uh, Jericho. Are you ok?”

Jericho looked hard at Gawain, searching, scrutinizing with piercing perception. He was suddenly concerned about the boy, what could he possibly want with that poor woman? I cannot imagine that he means her any harm but she has suffered enough. Besides, it is not my place to disclose that sort of information about anyone. He will have to ask her himself if he wants to know. “Gawain, that woman is a special person, but not in a good way. You should be as kind and as gentle with her as you possibly can. Do not, you hear me, DO NOT be sarcastic or sardonic with her, she does not deserve it. I will not tell you her past. That story is hers and hers alone to tell; now I really must be going.” Jericho stood up; there would be no arguing with him this time. The conversation was over.

“Well, see you tomorrow for lunch then?” Gawain did not want the meal to end on a note this bad.

Jericho whipped around, his expression changed into one of calculation, “Actually Gawain I do not think that I will be on the base during tomorrow’s lunch, and then tonight I will be in counsel for the majority of the evening. I am sorry Gawain perhaps we can meet again after I have returned to the base.”

“Yes that will be fine, thank you for your time, Knight.” Jericho nodded and turned to go. I sure hope that I did not upset him too much. What could possibly be Angela’s deal that he would be so… nervous? The curiosity burned in Gawain’s chest intensely. Do I dare?

He left that question unanswered and began helping the cook and his “assistants” to prepare for the next wave of soldiers who would be arriving in half an hour. It seems that there was never a dull moment around here, Gawain smiled to himself as one of the assistants dropped a bowl full of apples all over the floor. He was running to pick them all up with a terrified look on his face, the cook’s shouts in his ears.

Twenty minutes into the next lunch shift, Angela Frost appeared at the counter and collected her potatoes from Gawain. Their eyes met briefly and Gawain smiled cordially at her. She did not smile back, but nodded in a friendly fashion at him. I am going to be the one to crack that nut, he thought to himself his eyes following her until he had to look away and serve the next man in line.