“Is this strictly necessary?” I ask through clenched teeth as I attempt to swing the sword Morgan has given me.

“Heavy is the sword of a god. Heavy is the calling of the paladin. Heavy is the responsibility to be Kord’s weapon.” My mentor’s voice is deep, solemn.

I roll my eyes at him. “Heavy is the scent of bullshit in the air.” Morgan glares at me, unimpressed with my continued attempts at humour. He is the first human I’ve ever met who doesn’t like to laugh while he’s working.

Then again, considering the number of humans I know, maybe it’s just a racial thing.

“The longer you fight, the heavier your weapon gets,” my fellow novice - Ivnit, a dwarf – speaks up next to me. “Better to get used to it now.” She demonstrates by swinging her warhammer over her head before striking a straw target. Crafted primarily out of lead, as my sword is, the dwarf’s warhammer weighs almost twice as much as my own weapon. I scowl. There are disadvantages to being a half-elf.

“Very good, Ivnit. And exactly right. Until you can call on Kord to aid you, you must learn to push your body. And even when you can call on him, better to be prepared. Our god can be a fickle sort, and may not wish to aid you. Now, Ailith,” Morgan focuses on me once more. “Attack your target. Unless, of course, you’re too tired.”

My eyes narrow. To worship Kord is to fight. A paladin of the storm god can never be too tired for battle.

Inhaling slowly, I heft my sword once more. It is heavier, much heavier, than I am used to; but the balance is the same, the grip is the same. It feels good and right in my hand.

“Graah!” I bellow, swing the sword in a double-handed grip, then decapitate the target in front of me. At least one thing I can do that Ivnit can’t.

“Good.” Morgan nods. “Good. Again.”

***

It is later. Training, lessons, and dinner have come and gone. Sitting now in front of the fire in the main house with a cup of spiced ale in my hand, I ask Morgan why he bothered with the responsibility speech if the purpose of the exercise was to teach us to deal with fatigue.

“Because responsibility is important too, Ailith.” His voice is lower, thick from a night’s drinking, but his eyes are clear. “Some orders claim that to follow the storm lord is to lack direction. To be free to do as we wish and claim it is our god’s way. But that isn’t true, and you must understand the difference or you’ll never be able to serve Kord.

“We may not choose sides. Ours is not to enforce order, or crush to nonbeliever, or champion the weak. Our path is more ambiguous, yes, but just as important. We seek honour in battle, glory in the fight. Be strong, but do not destroy for the sake of strength. Be courageous, but do not attack for the sake of courage. Be glorious, but do not fight for the sake of glory. There is no honour in defeating an unworthy opponent. Ours is not to think of the politics or ramifications, rather the strength and challenge in our enemy. Only in fighting those worthy can we hope to gain renown, and thus serve our god. Do you understand?”

I stare at my teacher – so earnest, so full of our god that I can almost see a glow around him. That is why I came here. What I want to become.

I nod eventually. “I understand. Heavy is the sword.”

Morgan smiles and toasts me with his mug. “Heavy is the sword.”

Tags: brigits_flame, d&d, writing
Current Location: work
Noise: a lawnmower outside my window