An Abandoned Oath

Through the churn and complaint of the chain gang's moans of misery, Felix had a sneaking suspicion that something was off with Valeska today. The paladin's hair was poking out in unkempt locks from beneath her helm, and Felix thought that she was fidgeting with her great sword more than usual. This unsettled Felix since she was his only form of protection in these bandit-infested lands—and he should know, as a reformed bandit himself. That was, after all, the only reason he was even on this jailer's march in the first place.

"To aid and guide the honorable paladin Valeska of the fifth order of his holy eminence's crusaders, you will perform the helping of the convoy in navigating the lawless lands of Burgundy. You will chart, plan, and correct routes until you have seen to the delivery of the any and all prisoners to the Holy Covent for questioning."

That was the mandate forced upon him. Well, not really forced, since he supposed he could have chosen the alternative, but death by guillotine had seemed like it wouldn't be agreeable with a mid-morning tea. So, escort the prisoners he had. Once, twice, three times, he was now on his umpteenth such mission, and the stern, vigilant and largely uptight paladin had been his escort on every last one.

At the start of the stumbled-upon partnership, Felix knew that Valeska didn't like him. He had been one of the lawless criminals she so loathed, after all. Yet, somewhere around the eighth or ninth trip they made between the cities of Lyon and Toulouse, he had felt her warming up to him. A bit, at least.

So, on this particular trip, having years spent traveling together under his belt, Felix knew that something wasn't right with Valeska.

"Something got ya a bit uptight, has it?"

A grumbling, noncommittal reply came from the steel-clad paladin.

"Alright then," Felix wasn't going to be deterred so easily, "how about a ballad to embolden the brave? A song to sing the praises of the lord you worship so? A ditty to dance to and delight in?"

"Not today, Felix," the gruff answer was barked out, coming swift and severe. Valeska sighed, realizing she had snapped a bit too harshly at her only friend. "I'm sorry, I just," she rubbed her face with one gauntleted hand, "Heavens above, it's just my normal headache. A bit worse today is all."

A look of concern and worry passed across Felix's face; it wasn't like Valeska to complain about…anything, really. Even though Valeska had seemingly been suffering from a headache since she met him, Felix wasn't buying the fact it was the only thing bothering her.

"It's nothing. Go check on the prisoners, will you?"

Nodding in acknowledgment, not believing for a second this was truly 'nothing,' Felix slowly eyed the paladin up and down, searching for signs of a wound, a limp, anything to indicate serious harm or injury. There was nothing. So with slight reluctance, Felix turned to go check that the prisoners were all healthy and well, or as well as could be expected—having walked two dozen miles a day for half a month straight, all while bound to another five men with iron shackles tended to not do wonders for the body, much less the mind.

Standing still, letting the procession bring each criminal past him in turn, he gazed with bored indifference at each man as they passed, trying to recall what supposed crimes they had been charged with.

Murder, that's a serious one. Adultery, serves you right. Blasphemy, oooh, things aren't looking good for that one. Hersey, yeah, that'll do it. On and on they came, until the last. Felix scrunched his face up, unable to recall the name or crime of the small, freckled boy.

"Oi, you," the frail youth looked up at Felix, staring at him through pale, hopeless eyes, "what'd ya do?"

The tiny boy didn't reply, just stared back at him, eyes like a sea before a storm, unspeaking yet with a strange knowingness about them. Something boy gave Felix goosebumps, "You deaf or something?"

"Stole some bread for my sister. She's sick."

"What's that? You stole some bread? And they thought that crime worth sending you to the Covent over. I hardly see how nicking a loaf or two is worth getting tortured over."

The youth didn't reply, sentenced to death before his time; Felix knew the fate that lay in store for all the criminals they escorted. Guilty or innocent, rightful or wrong, they all met the same fate at the hands of the church.

Arriving at the Covent in Toulouse, Felix and Valeska went to report their delivery of prisoners. As they strode into the office of the inquisitor general, Felix whispered softly to Valeska, "That little one, the young boy at the back of the line, you see him?"

Valeska nodded.

"He ain't done nothing but steal a loaf of bread, and they're gonna string him up for that?"

Another nod.

"Vale, listen," Felix grabbed her by the arm, prompting a scowl from the paladin. "Sorry, but listen, if that's all he got charged for? Doesn't seem right to let him go to the gallows, does it? We've seen all sorts of baddies come through, right? Heretics and blasphemers, treasoners and deserters, even a fellow or two who only stole a chicken." Felix hardened his face, drawing nearer to the now uneasy paladin, "But listen, if the church can't fucking feed these kids, and that poor little sod had to go and steal something simple as a load of bread to survive, how's it make sense to go killing him for it?"

Valeska drew to a halt, a face worn beyond years looked down at the floor. Felix watched her stare at her gauntlets like they held answers. She sighed. After a few moments passed, she rubbed her face again and spoke, "Alright, we'll get the boy out then."

Felix's eyes grew wide, first with joy, then trepidation as the consequences of what she had just said set in. "How?"

"Dunno, tell them the ledgers wrong or something, you talk to the cleric, and I'll see to the boy's shackles," Valeska moved off to liberate the lad.

Oh, right, 'deal with the cleric,' she says, not like they all fucking hate me, or anything.

"I can't… believe," Felix was out of breath; the words escaped his lips between ragged huffing and puffing; the boy was slipping lower, and Felix scooted him farther up onto his back. "You.. fucking killed the cleric."

A lightly blood-soaked Valeska ran beside Felix as they escaped the Covent, running off who-knows-where to do who-knows-what, but they had one thing, the boy.

The cleric hadn't bought Felix's story of the ledger being wrong, not for a second. Tensions had escalated. Culminating in Valeska having to step in and, rather unceremoniously, lop off the head of the fuming cleric with one fell swoop of her sword.

Swearing and sweating, the trio fled.

Finally almost home free, they were nearing the edge of the city. When Valeska decided to cut down an uppity guard who was attempting to halt them. Felix supposed that they did look rather suspicious, a holy paladin and a rough-looking retired bandit with a decrepit, dirty, little ruffian on his back. The running full tilt through Toulouse didn't help either; people with nothing to run from, well, weren't usually running.

"Why'd you go and kill him? Couldn't you have just, I don't know, knocked him aside or something?" Felix wasn't used to seeing this kind of violence from the usually placid woman.

Valeska gave him a devilish grin, "Watched that fucker kick a dog once; he had it coming."

Felix smiled back, "I'm all with you on that one, kicking a poor pup probably deserves death. But why in the hell are you so happy about it?"

"My headache's gone!"

Felix blinked, "Seriously?"

"First time in years," Valeska was absolutely beaming now despite the shouts of rage still trailing behind them.

From Felix's back, the boy stirred, voice soft and quiet, barely a whisper, "We're all free now."

Felix smiled, almost believing the boy, "That we are, lad, that we are."