The Trouble With Clerics
Part 4. Gaston's Story
Southwestern Glantri, at the frontiers of the Principality of Sablestone.
Gaston du Lac spewed out the nastiest brew of Kaelic whisky he had ever placed in his mouth, sober or not.
“Eurgh! What in Rad’s radiant ‘airy derrière was zat?” Gaston cursed. “I’ve been to ze sleaziest, grubbiest, grimiest taverns in Glantri, but I’ve never tasted anythin’ zat ‘orrible!”
Gaston wiped the vile concoction from his mouth with his sleeve and continued his less than sober rant, oblivious of the woman sitting across him.
“Of course, I’ve never been to this part of this Rad-forsaken middle-of-nowhere. Egorn is it? Or Estin? Heh-heh-heh!” he added with his dry humor.
By force of habit, he stifled his unsavory laugh by lifting his tankard. He only realized it when the disgusting whisky touched his tongue.
“Eeeuuurrrgghhh!” Gaston spewed again, barely missing the woman known as Fiona McIntyre.
“Mister du Lac, would you please settle down,” demanded the frontierswoman.
A good quarter-hour and a few rounds of more expensive spirits—paid for Mistress Fiona, of course—Gaston’s tongue was about ready to loosen his tongue for business.
“Yer a brave soul to face me, ma’am.”
“I have little to fear, good sir. And I trust the Paparazzi will allow the mission of the Followers of the Claymore be made known to the more prominent members of Glantrian society.”
“Trust? Ze Paparazzi? In ze same breath? Heh-heh-heh!”
At that point, Gaston’s attention span—which was just a tad shorter than the time an apprentice magic-user can maintain control of a conjured elemental—ran out, and Gaston decided to get down to the bottom of things.
“Yeh, yeh, yes, Ma’amselle Beatriz ‘as read yer manifestos. Let me ask ye, ye got clerics in yer ranks?”
Despite being taken aback, Fiona McIntyre was able to respond, “Yes. We have divine guidance from the Blazing One and the Gray Lady.”
“Eh, pardon?”
“The Immortals Razud and Vanya, good sir.”
“Ain’t zat Razud jus’ a Flaemish Immortal?”
“The Immortal Razud is a Patron of the Flaems and the Sacred Fire, yes, but he also preaches self-sufficiency and resourcefulness without magic and watches over us, what the wizards call, mundanders.”
“Yeh, yeh, an’ ain’t Vanya a Thyatian Immortal of conquest?”
“Vanya was a Thyatian warrior-woman of legend, yes, but she protects warriors and fighting clerics of all kinds, even outside of Thyatis—and particularly against the oppression of wizards.”
It took all of Fiona McIntyre’s will to maintain confident and calm against Gaston’s attempts to rile her up.
“Rumor ‘as it ze agenda of zis Patroness of Conquerors is for ze Thyatians to conquer Glantri as its colony…”
“Nonsense!”
Finally, Fiona McIntyre was being rattled.
“Rumor ‘as it zat Thanatons and necromancer priests are in ze ranks of the Claymore. Wudden be surprised with ze Kaelics involved…”
Fiona’s face was one of agonized protestation. Gaston thought it utterly amusing that his provocation had such an effect on the Kaelic warrior-poet—that was, until she keeled over and began shaking violently.
Gaston moved over to her side of the table and saw that convulsions were wracking her body. Fiona’s eyes were upturned, her mouth was frothing, and her limbs were flailing in the most grotesque of ways.
Gaston had a mind to call the barkeep into this private booth they were secretly meeting in, but the seizure abruptly stopped.
It was then that Gaston noticed on Fiona’s finger a ring—a signet ring engraved with a pouncing lion: the seal of the McGregors, the ruling family of the House Crownguard of Klantyre.
Intrigued, Gaston reached for the shiny prize on the unconscious woman’s finger—but he was unexpectedly engulfed in an explosive blast of ice-chilled water emerging from the ring. Gaston was thrown back by a splash, like a crashing wave of the sea, and struck unconsciousness and he hit the ground.
Gaston came to when the barkeep roused him, sputtering and drenched.
“Where’s ze woman?”
“The wizardess?”
Gaston looked at the barkeep with confusion.
“Lady Margaret Purple. From Fenswick. The noblewoman who was here. She paid good coin for her damage, she did, what with that magical water spout. Very polite and regal-like, she was.”
Gaston stayed dazed and very disturbed.
