I took the lead, as my knightly station dictated, but I cannot say I felt altogether comfortable with my back to the spider-summoning, venom-spraying young adventurer following behind me. While I am confident his intentions were not sinister, his battlefield miscalculation was more exotic and somewhat more horrifying than similar choices I’ve seen bowmen make.
I kept my eyes forward and alert while my mind mulled over my new companions. My instincts assured me there was not evil to be found in them, but the facts were rather damning if considered on paper. I am a knight, sworn to uphold the law. Laws protect the innocent, as I too have sworn to protect. But the laws of the land condemn those who would use magic. Not those who use it in service of evil, but simply those who use it. But I have seen this friar use what would be called magic by a commoner, though it is divine in nature. How is the young wizard different? How is it different from the sword at my back? Is magic simply more fearsome because so few men understand the depths of it? Are those who would use the arcane arts burned alive because men fear them? Is that not the worst form of cowardice? Does the law harm the otherwise innocent out of fear?
I have sworn to be without fear in the face of my enemies. I am sworn to safeguard the innocent. But I am also sworn never to lie, but back in town, a true account of the deeds here harm someone I’ve sworn to protect and have indeed risked my own life to save.
I wish Uncle Balian were still alive for his counsel in this matter, but I find myself morbidly glad he is not, for I would not wish to burden his conscience with such a dilemma. My family name may be more fitting than—
Wait— that’s odd. My torch just doused itself right in front of my face…