Corruption, Part 6: Dwarven Interlude
April 6th, 2010 by Samodean

(Read the previous entry here or refer to the Fiction Index for a full listing.)

“For the twentieth time, no.”

“Twenty-second, sir.”

“Then for the twenty-second time, no. Now stop asking and leave my office.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

“You will NOT see me tomorrow. I order you to stop asking me.”

“Ye can order me to do nothing. I’m not one o’ yer paladins, and I’ve promised to come here every day until ye go after the boy.”

Rondrey stood in the office of Lord Grayson Shadowbreaker, head of the Silver Hand in Stormwind. Corrigan had been missing for over three weeks, three weeks the old Dwarf had been searching for him. After following some leads, Rondrey learned he had been last seen entering the Slaughtered Lamb, a known den of Warlocks. Corrigan obviously needed help, but Shadowbreaker was unwilling to send any paladins to investigate.

“Why are ye not willing to help the boy?” Rondrey asked.

“Because I’m not convinced the boy needs help. I’m aware of your ‘investigation,’ Rondrey. I’ve performed an inquiry of my own. Corrigan was last seen in the presence of a young woman. I don’t need to tell you what that likely means.”

“Corrigan is a good lad, pure of body and soul. He would not forsake his duty to run off with some girl.”

“He would hardly be the first young paladin to run away. Why, I remember a dwarf I trained with running out the night before we were to take our vows.”

“Light, Grayson, we’ve discussed that. Yes, I panicked. I never wanted to abandon ye, but I couldn’t live my life under the restriction of so many rules.”

Lord Shadowbreaker’s eyes set into a hard stare. “You’re reasons are of no concern to me, Rondrey. What’s done is done. All I’m concerned with now is leading this order. I simply cannot spare the men to go searching after your lost student.”

“Then what can I do? I will not abandon the lad.”

Shadowbreaker’s face creased in thought. His emotions seemed to be at war with each other, his old resentment warring with compassion for an old, lost friend, all against his sense of responsibility. “As you’ve said, I can’t give you orders. As a priest assisting our order, you work with the paladins, not for them. If you wish to go after Corrigan, I can do nothing to stop you. But I repeat, I can spare no men.”

Rondrey stood in silence, thinking. A plan began to formulate in his mind. “Fine, Grayson, no paladins. There is one person I’d like to accompany me, one I guarantee you will not miss.”

–

Rondrey made his way through the corridors beneath the cathedral, heading toward the armory. Turning through a doorway, Rondrey found the person he was looking for. “Rusty” was the young man responsible for cleaning the Order’s armor, though he obviously neglected the chainmail he had claimed as his own, earning his nickname. It was a simple, mindless task, sadly one Rusty was perfectly suited for.

Rusty used to be a warlock. As far as the Order could tell, a ritual he was performing went awry, leaving his mind addled. He was cast out by the other warlocks, not wanting to be saddled with his burden. A priest found Rusty living in the corner of an alley and took him in, sheltering him for the last three years.

Rusty was absorbed in his work and Rondrey silently stood by, not wanting to startle him. With the breastplate he was working on a sparkling example of perfection, Rusty finally noticed Rondrey standing in the doorway. He looked the dwarf over, smiled and asked, “Armor?”

Rondrey stepped into the room, sitting down next to Rusty. “No, lad, I have no armor for ye. I need yer help. Do you remember the place ye lived before we found ye? Do ye remember the Slaughtered Lamb?”

At the mention of the pub’s name, Rusty flinched, a deep fear gripping him. “Dark.”

“Dark, yes. I know ye’re afraid of that place, Rusty. I am, too, but good men must face their fears. A person very close to me, almost a son needs my help. He needs yer help.”

“Help?”

“Right, help. He’s lost in the dark just like ye were, once. Ye know what he’s feeling right now. Do ye want the dark to take him like it tried to take ye, Rusty?”

Rusty stared blankly at the old priest for a moment. Rondrey feared that he was too far lost to be any help. Just as he was about to give up, a smile crossed Rusty’s face.

“Help!”

Tags: Rondrey