The old man's bushy white brows drew together, his face darkening. This was not the sort of expression commonly seen in the courtyard, and it seemed for a moment as though the blooms on the flowering starbursts looked on disapprovingly. It was not really the sort of thing suited to such a lush garden, with it's vibrant flowers, and bright shafts of sunlight. Truth be told, the expression did not look quite right on the old man's face either. Compared to the generous laugh lines etched into his face, the creases forming on his forehead looked like a thing which simply did not belong. Or, perhaps, like a thing long out of practice, nearly forgotten. His shining blue eyes, and the healthy waves of his silver hair further lent to the impression of a joyous presence out of step with his expression. The colorful fish in the fountain gaped at him openly. But the fish gaped the same way at everything, so it was hard to tell how they really felt about the matter.

“The story you have asked for is not an easy one, children.” The old man finally said, his somber expression lightening somewhat. The circle of young people, not children in truth, stirred uncomfortably, clearly not accustomed to this darkness on their storyteller's face. One young woman rose up on an elbow and spoke, the light of mischief in her eyes.

“No Caeda,” the old man said, starting out of his reverie ”it is not because I am old! By the Chalice, sometimes I think I remember the old stories better than I remember this morning.” Still propped on her elbow, the girl spoke again, the same twinkle in her eyes.

“No, Caeda, that does not mean I cannot remember this morning!” The old man harrumphed through his snowy mustaches and settled back on the edge of the fountain, drawing his exquisite cloak about him as though against a chill. “It is a hard story because it tells of a hard time. A sad time. Most of all, a complicated time. Too complicated for children, unless told by a far wiser tongue than mine.” This was too much for the gathered young ones, and they began to clamor to hear the tale, protesting that it was unfair to tell so much but refuse to finish.

“Oh don't start in!” the old man replied grumpily ”You all know I'm going to tell the story, I'm just working my way up to it” He drew in a deep breath, shifting his cloak back to his sides, and smoothing his features back to their usual gentle smile.

“This story is an old one. Older than your parents, and some of your grandparents. Maybe even older than that. It was around the time of the Day of Just Rebellion, though we didn't know about any of that yet. I was still with the five companions back then, before we even had that name. Before we had any name really. Ah, the five companions: Penelope Plainsworth. Raised as a noble in the old empire she was. Not much of a dancer in those days, though don't tell her I said that. I've rarely seen her equal on the field of combat, not to mention at the arm wrestling table. This was before she got married of course, though confidentially I very much doubt she ever got rid of that old hammer. Matthias Lateralus, in those days, had to have been the strangest Priest I have ever know. I suppose the Sun Father knew even back then what was coming, but at the time the leniency he was shown was a strange thing to behold. Erhvior was the first elf I had ever met, and seemed a madman to me at first. As I came to know him, and later others of his kind, I realized that I had been wrong in this. He was in fact a madelf.” The old man paused with a wrinkling of the corners of his eyes to allow for the laughter this provoked. Raising his hand, he continued ”He was not then who he eventually became, no more than any of us were. Erhivor was, perhaps, closer then than the rest of us though. . .” Again a pause for gentle laughter, and he continued. “Gideon Fox.” The old man pursed his lips, a haze crossing his eyes. “What can one say about Fox in those days? He was a trial back then, and a burden, handy as he was with a knife. From the first day we met I held out hope that he could rise above his upbringing, and reveal the good man behind the screen of filth. Unfortunately he knew this, and I think the fact that it was my wish was the largest impediment he faced in realizing that potential. Always a stubborn, and ultimately prideful man, Fox.” His eyes cleared for a moment, then took on an even darker cast.

“I was not then the man you have all heard so much of either.” His eyes cleared for a moment, showing a glimmer of humor “I do not think I was ever the man some of those stories tell of. Though should I meet that man I would like to shake his hand! You all know I began my life as a foundling, left on the steps of a cathedral a few days after the comet entered the heavens. What you may not have heard is that it was not a cathedral of the Invincible, but rather of Ariad the False. No, no, it is true! For the first fifteen years of my life I was raised by his false priests, many of whom were good men. I believed in him with all my heart, for I had been taught that other gods were either his faces to other peoples, or demons attempting to lure us away from the truth. In fact, despite what you may have been told, I was wholly faithful to him, or at least to the idea of him, until we met the shade of the ancient emperor Lantan III, but you have all heard that story already, too many times, I shouldn't wonder.” There was a shifting from some of the young men, that story was a favorite, but the old man went on.

”I have told you often enough what it feels to have a part of the Arch Paladin within my breast. The fullness, the certain knowledge of my own completeness. There is nothing that can compete with the gifts of the Invincible, but my first taste of this feeling came before I entered his service, or knew more of his glory than his name. So fierce was my belief in The False, and in the Empire that his grace had spawned, or so I had been taught, that I did not feel the emptiness, and I tasted a portion of what it is to serve a just god. What is it to serve a just god? I cannot speak for the servants of other Gods, nor for the Priests. For the Paladin of Heironeous, it is not only to know you are never alone, but to feel it to your very bones. Every moment of my life, waking or sleeping, I bathe in the presence of my lord. He clears the blinders from my eyes, and lends his strength to my bones, my toes, and my mind. If I were to tell you how old I am, children, you would not mind me calling you such, I think.

“To compare the feeling of serving The False to this, is to compare a sliver of light creeping in through the wall of a filthy basement with the full glory of noon, but I cannot think of another way to explain it. It was a feeling certainly, and there were gifts, certainly, but such a pale shadow, and no sense of companionship. But once, never having seen the sun, I looked through that crack, and thought this was all the light there was in the world. But even this was nothing compared to the time between.

“The Arch Paladin had sent me signs that I walked the wrong course before Lantan ripped the scales from my eyes, but I was too blind to see them. When the old Emperor revealed the falsehood of Ariad to me, he set the foundation that another would later use to reveal the falsehood of the Empire. When this was done, the wadding of false belief was torn from within me, and I sagged against the inner emptiness. I survived, as you can see of course” Here there was more laughter, relieved for a break in the bleakness that had come to dominate the old man's tale “but I was not certain that I would. Oh the learning of man did not desert me,” a gesture of his hand released a small bird made of lightning to sparkle for a moment in the air, “but I tell you now that the knowledge to topple a city's walls is of little help in a battle in which you are the battleground. It is little consolation when that which you are missing is not some prize to be won from a keep. Needless to say, I persevered, but it was not easy.

“During that time, as we, The Five, scrambled through the wreckage of the old empire to assemble to the tools we believed we would need to rite it, I cast about for the path to the invincible within myself, but I could not find it on my own, not quite. I am told now that I came closer than any other the Priests have heard of, but it is simply a path one cannot walk alone. It was just before we entered the second Crystal Tomb that a very strange man showed me the way.”The old man paused, wrinkling his nose. “I almost wish I could avoid telling this part, but it is probably important, even if I cannot divine how.”

“You see, to tell it properly, it was not a man who showed me the way to Heironeous, but rather a tree. A talking tree in fact.” The youngsters eyes widened in incredulity, but the old man did not pause for questions. “When The Five first encountered him, he was caught in the ground by his, ahem taproot.” There was a ripple of laughter at this, then a larger one as the audience grasped the allusion. Again the old man hurried before questions could b asked. ”We freed him of course, the codes teach us to ease what suffering we can. In thanks he gave us directions to approach the Tomb without having to slaughter a garrison of soldiers who's only crime was obeying orders. He also um, did a very peculiar, and rather ungainly sort of dance around me, that had the effect of thinning the divide between the earth and the Heavens, for just long enough that a piece of the Arch Paladin could sweep into me. Personally, I think the Spirits responsible for maintaining the divide simply forgot their duties in a fit of hilarity.” The old man sprang from his perch with surprising grace, and imitated the rigid capering of the treeman all those decades ago. The audience, frozen between being puzzled and being amused, burst into hilarity at this spectacle. The old man's eyes retained their usual sparkle when he stopped dancing, his lips curving into a smile. He essayed an exaggerated shrug, spreading his hands. “As I say, there is a reason I was shown grace in such an unusual way, but I am at a loss to explain what it may have been.” His smile broadened. ”Perhaps it was for no reason other than to bring these smiles I see now. I shall have to tell that story more often, I think, and then perhaps I shall find out.” He fingered the small broach holding his cloak closed thoughtfully, them smiled broadly again. “All right you rascals, what will you hear next then?”