Within All Creatures, By PaladinFox.



The young knight wearily plopped down in a chair, his mind racing. For a brief moment, the tumultuous sounds at the inn faded away and a feeling of peace descended upon him. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling, long anticipated but often missed in his hectic life. And yet, in the midst of the rowdy common room in the Foxes Den, he had rediscovered his inner peace. That peace was immediately shattered when the innkeeper brought a glass of water down on his table with a thud.

The knight's bright blue eyes snapped back open and he glanced up at the innkeeper, who was wincing, as if he realized he had disturbed the knight. Jes was nineteen, the same age as the other man, and he shared the knight's slender build and bright, sparkling sky blue eyes. In fact, one would almost mistake them for brothers if they were to stand side by side. That is, if the knight weren't an Acrecian.

Michael Fox was a Paladin Knight, and the past year he had spent in Tarin had not quelled his love for adventure. However, the path had been long and hard, and the brushes of Darkness he had encountered had left deep scars on his soul. Still, the Paladin seemed to draw from an inner wellspring of strength, constantly bouncing back from any oppression he faced.

This time, though, Michael seemed to be beaten.

"You look like someone's been bludgeoning you with a big, dirty stick," Jes observed.

A lopsided grin appeared on Michael's face as he gratefully sipped his water. "I had a rough night, I guess."

Jes nodded understandingly, watching the Acrecian red fox with concern in his expression. "Yes, I heard that you were over in Cyprus yesterday. More horse thieves?"

"I wish it were that simple," Michael said with a sigh, scratching his jaw thoughtfully. "No, I had an . . . encounter . . . of some sort."

"An angel?" Jes asked excitedly.

Michael rolled his eyes. "I don't find angels everywhere I go, Jes." He grunted, and pushed the chair on the opposite end of the round table away with his foot. "Sit down. I'd better start from the beginning. . ."

* * * * *


Despite the fact that he'd been in Tarin for a little over a year, Michael still wasn't used to the querulous stares he received during his travels. Tarin was still a little backward compared to Acrecia, since the natives were a little leery of those that appeared different from themselves. Of course, Acrecia had only recently ended the last of its civil wars that had threatened to rock its civilization apart.

Besides, Michael reflected with amusement as he boldly strode down the main street of Cyprus, if our roles were reversed, I imagine I would be a little frightened of a six-foot fox slipping through my city, as well.

Still, it was a little unnerving. After all, he was a Paladin, and it was difficult being an upholder of peace and truth when the common people believed you were something that had crawled up from the Abyss. As a result, Michael was in a somewhat pensive mood, and almost didn't hear the cry that resounded in the narrow Cyprus street.

"Thief!"

Everyone froze as the dreaded cry bounced off the rock walls of the surrounding shops. All eyes turned to regard a terrified shopkeeper, who was pointing a trembling finger at the accused shoplifter. Michael boldly sprang into action, swiftly moving through the crowd like a boat parting the current, one gloved paw resting lightly on the hilt of his sheathed blade. As he broke through the crowd, he sensed a tension leaking from the crowd.

Ah, here's a Paladin, they seemed to say. He'll deal with this. . . thing.

The creature in question was a dark colored entity which seemed to blend into the gray sandstone surrounding it. Its dark red eyes locked on Michael's questioning gaze, and the Paladin sensed terror coming from it, even as its coloring shifted from gray to black to make itself more visible.

A wraith, Michael identified it. Splendid.

"What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?" Michael asked, keeping his voice light although he didn't withdraw his paw from the hilt.

The shopkeeper turned gratefully to the Paladin, relief in his expression, though Michael sensed indignation rising from him like the stench from a sock. I can't believe he put me on the same level with this. . . beast, was the thought that seemed to occupy the negative emotion. "Oh, thank the Light you were here! This. . . monster has stolen from me for the last time!"

"But I have stolen nothing!" the wraith protested.

"Yet!" the shopkeeper hissed back.

"Peace," Michael commanded, raising his right paw while keeping the left on the hilt. "This problem can be solved simply by returning what was taken. Empty your pockets, my good wraith."

Michael sensed the wraith's embarrassment as it replied, "But I have no pockets, noble Paladin."

Way to handle that one, Fox. Michael chided himself. You should have known that one. "Then where are you hiding what you've taken?"

"That's just it! I've taken nothing, and I'd have nowhere to put it if I had!"

The shopkeeper snorted. "I can't believe you would lie to a Paladin! Then again, I would expect nothing less from a thief!"

"There is no basis here to call me a thief! You have no proof!"

"Don't quote laws at me, wraith!" the shopkeeper snarled in return, and turned back to Michael. "I know where his nest is, my lord. If you want to take his family hostage if he won't return my property, just let me know."

Michael suddenly realized that the situation was rapidly getting out of control, but before he could reestablish his authority, the wraith hissed at the shopkeeper in rage.

"You would dare to threaten my family to justify your unwarranted accusations?"

"You are a thief!" the shopkeeper barked.

"Gentlemen," Michael called in a warning tone, but it was already too late.

Sensing the lynch mob growing around it, the wraith camouflaged itself back into the sandstone, its red eyes vanishing as well. The crowd muttered angrily amongst themselves, redirecting their unrequited rage at Michael.

"What now, Paladin?" the shopkeeper asked sarcastically.

Why don't you tell me? Michael wanted to growl at him. You seem to have an adequate handle on this, at least to your liking! But a deep calm swept over him, quelling his anger. Instead, the young Paladin replied, "Tell me where his nest is. He'll probably return there now."

The shopkeeper nodded triumphantly, confidant that he had swayed the Paladin to his line of thinking. His eyes hungered for blood as he whispered, "It's on the far side of the mountains, through the caves. There's a little niche carved out of the western face as you exit the cavern. That's where the little miscreants keep their home."

"Thank you," Michael said, then turned to view the crowd slowly pressing in on him. "I will go alone."

The crowd didn't seem to like that announcement very much, but Michael was starting to realize that something was odd about this situation.

* * * * *


It was late evening by the time Michael reached the wraith's niche. The young Paladin glanced inside the dark interior, his every sense alert. Suddenly, two blazing red eyes snapped open in front of his face and the wraith stepped out into the waning light, brandishing a sword leveled at Michael's chest. It was not just any sword, Michael realized with dismay. The wraith held a saber, the weight of which could easily break all of the Paladin's ribs if the wraith smacked him with the flat. Judging from the rage in the wraith's eyes, Michael decided he wouldn't have to fear that fate. Startled, Michael stepped back a pace, his paws raised away from his own weapon.

"I'm afraid this isn't making your case look very good, friend," Michael pointed out.

"I would dislike having your blood spilled, but I can not allow you to harm those inside."

"I am a Paladin; I would not harm any unjustly."

"Then why have you come here?" the wraith demanded.

"I was looking for you. You left rather hastily back in Cyprus."

"They would have killed me had I stayed."

"No doubt, but you lost face by fleeing."

The wraith snorted with contempt. "What face? The only crime I have committed is existence. I am no thief."

"So you've said before."

"And I meant it, Paladin! Can you not sense the truth in my voice?"

Michael finally understood what had been bothering him back in Cyprus. Despite the shopkeeper's insistence, Michael had not detected falsehood in the wraith's words.

"He lied to me?" Michael asked, dumbfounded.

"He lied to himself," the wraith answered softly, dropping the saber to the ground. "To him, 'wraith' is a synonym for 'thief.' But I am one of honesty and integrity, despite what Cyprus thinks."

Michael was stunned that he had not realized it earlier, but then he was overcome by the harsh reality of the situation. He had allowed his impressions to be swayed by the crowd. In truth, he was as guilty of bigotry as the shopkeeper in Cyprus had been.

"I. . . I'm sorry for all the trouble I have caused you."

"No trouble, Paladin. At least someone believes I am innocent. Perhaps I shall just stay away from Cyprus for a while." The wraith's white teeth flashed in the dim moonlight as he grinned. "Not that they notice the difference between one wraith and another anyway. For now, I am going home. My mate has no doubt missed me by now."

Michael blinked. "Wait. Isn't . . . this your home?"

The wraith snickered. "No. I live in a den on the other side of the Dragon's Spine."

"Then why -"

"Paladin or not, I could not risk you - or some other citizen of Cyprus - invading this family's den. I stayed in Cyprus long enough to find out where the shopkeeper would send you. Then, I hurried here before you arrived."

"But. . . you risked being arrested."

The wraith shook his head. "There is no freedom when one realizes he has caused the death of strangers for his own gain. Despite what others may think, wraiths are. . . just like them."

"How do you mean?"

There was a brief pause, and then the wraith said, "Within all creatures, great and small, there is a heart. Mine would not allow a family to die for a crime I did not commit."

Michael continued to stand at the mouth of the niche, the phrase bouncing around in his mind. Within all creatures. . . It was a lesson he should have already known, having struggled with Tarin prejudices all year. Though an Acrecian, did he not have feelings just as a human? Wasn't the only difference a little extra hair and a tail?

The Paladin didn't even notice the wraith's departure. In defeat, he sank to his knees and cried silently.

* * * * *

"Needless to say, my spirit was crushed," Michael related to Jes later that night. "Here I had encountered someone facing the same struggle as myself, and I cast him away as if he were rubbish."

"A difficult lesson to learn," Jes agreed.

"But one well taught."

"So, what happens now?"

Michael stifled a yawn behind his paw. "For tonight, a clean room and a warm bed at your inn. Then, I'll return to Cyprus in the morning. A certain shopkeeper and I need to have a little talk."

"Sounds like you need to address that whole crowd."

"One heart at a time, Jes. Starting with mine." Michael replied, standing. "Yes, one heart at a time."

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