[Memory, Solo] The Worst Paladin

he villa was almost never completely quiet, to be honest, and today was really no exception. It was not a work day, the summer heat making every moment spent in the forge nearly unbearable by the time the sun rose to its apex in the sky for anyone but the most seasoned of blacksmiths in the family and on staff to truly bear well. Children had finished their studies and their apprentice duties, a midday meal had been devoured around the large table in the dining hall, hands had been reluctantly washed, and then the afternoon swiftly dissolved into the loud chaos of imaginary play.

Wooden weapons, old forge cast-offs for helmets, and their practice bucklers from swordplay lessons were found and donned. At first, the adventuring party of strapping young lads and one reluctant sister (Milena always insisted on being a Harper, after all, while Annalise rolled her eyes and disappeared into her room to sew or read because her brothers were all so very stupid) were all on equal footing. It always started out well, really, and even Elias was invited along on the journey through the terrible keep their part of the villa had become during this expedition. Though, admittedly, the ten year old tiefling was awkward and so unlike his siblings: long-limbed and lanky with his blue skin; obvious horns that kept him from proper armor as Justus would sneer at him; and that tail that still got in his way when he was terribly excited.

For a few precious moments, he was having a good time. Not even Matthias, the proud sorcerer, had yet made fun of his fangs or relegated him to once again be the dumb monster they would be fighting, but even Elias knew that was always a possibility. Eventually, Therias would want to fight something and their youngest sibling who couldn't possibly actually be their brother given how ugly and strange he was, given that he was a fiend would be bullied into being the dragon or the orc war chief or the evil mage who'd been waiting for them in his tower all along.

The ragtag group of children had snuck through the dangerous library and were making their way carefully outside toward the back garden—the evil forest full of bugbears and spiders and (the worst threat of all) mud—intrepid and unafraid. Justus, paladin as always, lead the way while Milena hummed a tune to inspire them even if it was totally off-key. Therias, clever rogue that the middle child was, moved to pick the lock to the back doors while a wave of giggles swept through all of the children. Matthias had whispered something to his eldest brother and both of them had glanced back to Elias with the slyest of grins.

The young tiefling, hopeful as usual, grinned back, sharp teeth causing his elder siblings to immediately look away.

Something settled heavily into the boy's stomach and he gripped tighter the wooden blade in his hand, crouching lower behind the overstuffed leather chair that had comfortably been set next to the library hearth in a small sitting area for family and guests to sit and enjoy the books of vast geneologies, theological explorations, or geography of the Sword Coast should they really feel like taking a nap. This was where the fun he'd been having would surely come to an end.

The door opened and the summer air hit them all in the face, salty sea breeze ruffling dark waves and curls that all of them bore in some fashion or another.

"Onward into the forest once more!" Justus announced boldly, raising his chipped longsword and straightening his helmet with a thumb. Milena warbled on in her poor Elvish, and Therias made it look as though he busied himself tucking away his thieves' tools—wires and scraps of metal he'd collected from the floor of the Bladesemmer family forge.

Everyone spilled out into the bright sunlight, and Matthias pointed his gnarled old stick of a staff toward the row of hedges that made up part of their well-maintained garden, "I see movement there! We must be vigilant!"

"Therias, take Elias with you and scout. Make sure you count our enemies' numbers." Justus ordered. He was obviously suppressing a mischievous grin.

No one asked Elias what he wanted to do. No one asked their secret, unwanted brother who was only begrudgingly called family behind closed doors what he wanted to be—was ever invited to be the paladin? The sorcerer? The thief?

No.

He was just ... Elias. The half-fiend. With a sword.

The brother in question held a finger up to his lips as if to imply they were now sneaking, and then roughly elbowed him in the direction they were to go, making sure that the blue-skinned child went first. Walking with exaggerated carefulness, the pair made a show of themselves hiding against the well-trimmed hedges, careful to avoid the flowers lest their mother see they'd knocked blooms off and have each of their hides.

Turning the corner deeper into the garden revealed a swath of muddy ground, a huge puddle that had been left from the last summer storm that swept through two nights before. It was surely too long for any child to leap and while it wasn't difficult to walk around, it mostly spanned the entire garden path next to the villa wall.

"Oh gods—look! A pit! Here—we must make it safe for everyone else to cross, Elias." Therias unraveled a short rope from over his shoulders, always the prepared boy that he was, and shoved one knotted end into his youngest brother's calloused, long-nailed hands, "Quick, I'll hold this end. You go first."

"I—uh—oookay." He was included. He was important. The blue-skinned boy smiled again, more subdued this time, hiding his fangs, hiding the forked tongue behind his teeth with effort. He turned and backed up a little, preparing himself to get a running start, "I will help us get across!"

He told himself as much as he told everyone else. Taking off at a faltering run, the young tiefling leapt into the air and stretched his long-limbed body into an impressively skillful jumping form. He may have actually made it across, too, had his brother not yanked the rope and sent him crashing backwards into the dirty water, grass, and mud with a squelch.

"Hey!"

"Oh no!"

The older boy mocked dispair, well aware that he'd done it on purpose. Raising the hand not holding the rope to his face, he didn't make much effort to hide his laughter, watching without offering to help as Elias and his tail struggled to scramble out of the mud, turning to pick back up his sword, and again for the rope, standing finally on the other side of the puddle with a look not of horror but of triumph, having succeeded in creating a way for his siblings to cross because he was still holding the rope.

"Brave Elias has made it across the pit!"

"No, you didn't."

"Yeah, I did. You pulled me down."

"No way. You fell. Look at you."

Silver eyes flicked downward over the dark stains and green smears and the young tiefling frowned for only a few seconds. Looking back up again, he hefted his blade and made a come hither motion with it eagerly, "But I survived and Milena can heal me with her soothing song or Justus with his divine-powered touch. Let's all press on into the forest, Therias. Call the others."

The slightly older boy smirked then, shrugging as he dropped the rope, "Help! A spined devil has emerged from the pit! Quick! We must smite him! He's eaten Elias!"

"No, what are you doing? I'm not—Therias. I don't want to be another monster. I'm good. I want to stay in the party." The tiefling hissed, shaking the rope for emphasis, "I made it across!"

"You fell. You didn't. Now you're going to fight us as the pit monster." Bossed the other boy while his siblings came rushing around the corner.

"Oh what a vile thing!" Justus taunted, much to the amusement of Matthias and even Milena. His words stung far more than Elias' backside from falling and the youngest Bladesemmer scowled, lips curling into a defensive sneer.

"How dare you eat our brother!" Milena piped in a sing-songy voice while strumming her pretend harp. She was a proper Harper, after all.

"No, guys. It's me, Elias!" The tiefling attempted to insist, "I made the rope bridge like Therias asked and—"

"Get him!" Matthias growled, raising his staff and beginning to pretend to cast, "Fireball!"

The blue-skinned boy sighed, tears stinging the edges of his eyes before he looked to Justus, begging him to change his mind with his pitiful facial expression and receiving nothing but devious determination to beat him soundly in nonverbal response. If there was nothing comforting about this situation, it was that at ten years old, Elias was already well aware of who was the better swordsman.

And it was not his eldest brother.

"Raaawwwrrrrrrr! I will consume you all! I will drag your poor fleshy bodies into the Nine Hells and tear them limb from limb!" The tiefling howled, surrendering to the inevitable more out of fear than desire. He would be the one to take the blame for them all being muddy messes, too. He would be the one who would be washing their clothes—not their servants—and he would be the one fetching water for the forge for an extra week. He would sweat at the bellows tomorrow, he knew, but if that was his fate, so be it.

He would at least see one or two of his brothers cry and bleed for yet another betrayal, ready to split their knuckles and bruise their faces with the wooden blade in his hands,

"Stop me if you can!"