Golden Paladin: Land of Chaos (August 2025)

The Golden Paladin and leaders of the beastfolk city Liallynn Mielwyn walked in a silence that was simultaneously companionable and heavy, broken only by the distant sounds of the city unhushed by the reverence of their passing and their own echoing footsteps.

The group shortly angled to the left, toward a large, low platform with a magical strip of blue extending from it to dissipate into the distance. The representatives ascended it, and were whisked off with brief, mellow flashes of the blue light.

“A magical slideway,” Hesa, who had been awfully quiet thus far, said as an aside to the Golden Paladin. She moved onto the blue strip confidently.

When it was the Golden Paladin’s turn, he braced for an unknown feeling. He’d been teleported by magical and technological methods, as well as … whatever the hell it was the Creator had done to him … so it wasn’t like he was unused to the concept. His first step took him onto the platform, and his next took him off in some other place. The vertigo of transportation hit him belatedly, but he remained firm. All in all, not one of the worst ways he’d traveled.

Jump-ships still held that dubious distinction.

Not every one of his companions took it in stride, apparently; the patter of occasional wobbly footfalls echoed behind him as he moved to catch up to the beastfolk leadership. Judging by the thuds in rapid succession, Tiann’a was one of those caught off-guard.

In front of them was the largest building the Golden Paladin had seen yet. It was beautifully and delicately decorated with carvings, though he didn’t have the time to give them more than an appraising glance.

“Our Archive,” the Beftix Great Mother explained as the procession continued inside to a massive, multi-level library full of shelves. A heightened hum of magic washed over the Golden Paladin, and he swept his gaze across its interior to unconsciously seek its source. Scholars claimed tables here and there, open tomes and scrolls littered around each workspace. Some seemed to be speaking, and nearby them, quills glided over parchment with no hand to guide them. Magic speech-to-scroll, apparently — an apropos primary method of writing for a city inhabited entirely by species lacking truly dexterous grasping digits.

However, again, as much as his innate curiosity was piqued, the Golden Paladin had no time to pursue it. The group took to the large path down the center of the library, heading to a massive stone table with dozens of chairs surrounding it like satellites.

Each of the beastfolk leadership took a seat at the table, prompting those from Arthur’s Kingdom to do so, as well. The Golden Paladin was somewhat discomfited at the idea of discussing war matters with civilians around, but the soft scrape of shuffling feet, signaling the scholars clearing out, settled him.

One scholar — a Beftix — approached and sat, however. His purpose at the table became clear as he took out a notepad, across which his quill magically began its scratching journey.

The Beftix Great Mother, apparently somewhat of a representative of representatives, folded her short arms across her round belly.

“Well. We have done as your missives asked, and trained our soldiers to the best of our ability by your method. Though we do not understand it.”

The others pinned him with stares that demanded explanation. The Golden Paladin, though, was ready for this. Arthur and Hesa both, when he had first proposed his plan, warned him that the beastfolk would be the hardest to convince. Longstanding xenoantagonism, remnants of tensions built up during wartime and the subsequent unrest of rebuilding, and vastly differing cultural values due to geographical isolation were just some of the issues the Golden Paladin would need to address to bring them into the fold.

It was no coincidence that this was the first stop on their march.

“First, I would like to express my gratitude at what was essentially blind trust on your part. I will be frank with you, as you have been with me: I understand nothing of your culture, though I am eager for the time to learn. But even just from what I have witnessed since arriving, and knowing your history, I can imagine what it took to reach the decision to extend said trust. I can only strive to prove I am worthy of it. That starts now.”

The Golden Paladin stood, placing his gauntleted hand flat on a part of the large, intricately detailed map spanning the table’s surface — specifically, over a cold northern mountain range decorated with few marks compared to much of its surroundings.

“Our intelligence shows that this is the center of Merlin’s forces.” He pulled his hand back, giving them a moment to digest the information. His gaze shifted from person to person, taking in their response to the news. They were professional enough to not exclaim, but a glimmer of surprise or concern could be seen on every face.

“More than just being the center of his forces, though, it is nearly the entirety of them. Either he is a hopelessly arrogant tactician, or we moved before he could widen his net, because we have only found a single trail of his devotees from this spot. All following the same path.”

The Uhruhk Chieftain snorted in derision. “Is he mad? Or just stupid?”

“Both, likely,” Hesa muttered.

“His ineptitude is our gain,” the Khahjiirah Queen mused.

“It will be,” the Golden Paladin redirected, “but only if we can take advantage of it. That is why I am here. As I have already convinced Arthur’s Kingdom, the primary reason he was able to make it this far is due to the insular nature of each and every kingdom. I understand the scars of war — I, too, bear my share of them — but this is not the time to let our scars become wounds anew. To the contrary, it is only by coming together, sharply and decisively, that we can end this, and reclaim peace.”

Nice speech, GP! But will it be enough? Find out next time!

N.A. Soleil is a portmanteau pseudonym of the two authors' names.