The Divine Shield

The Divine Shield is a part of Tales of Arkain. Contributed by JayBorino, to honor his namesake and his constant complaint of the Paladin's use of the Divine Shield.

## Synopsis

This story was focused on Sir Jay Bubblerino, the persistent Paladin under Golden Guard.

## Story

The mood had turned even more dour when Sir Praxeus returned to speak with them. After meeting privately with the High Lord Inquisitor, he addressed the combined Paladin Orders of the Kingdoms of Arkain to reiterate the gravity of their situation, though The Holy Bastion appeared more resolute than ever. Whatever van Durce shared upon his return surely made clear that the march of the Ironfist had no hope of being halted in a way that did not end with them crashing upon the Golden walls.

The High Lord Inquisitor indeed went unseen for a time from the fortress and word among the men was that their High Lord was intensively reviewing the schematics for the Purificator machine in his chambers, refusing to come out due to his total devotion to defending their fortress and their lives. The high ranking Order members knew full well the truth of the matter: van Durce attempted, unsuccessfully it seemed, to parlay with his bastard nephew Gardon upon learning the truth behind the Emperor’s nefarious motivations, a reality that only true believers were privy to.

A true believer. Is that what he was? Salomar assured him he was once, but Sir Jay was no longer so sure. An abhorrence of necromancy and unnatural magics, a refusal to the revival of the hated nation of Zyainor and their cruel black dragons, a belief that fighting is preferable to outright extermination at the hands of the Demons… and above all, an unadulterated love for the lands and peoples of Arkain. Sir Jay was not ashamed to be considered zealously myopic with regard to these ideals. If only Salomar were here to guide the remaining Paladin Orders and manifest their rightful path.

The sage Healer truly was an individual that inspired belief. Alternatively, Praxeus Braelon’s sheer strength of presence *demanded*belief. He exemplified many similar qualities required to earn the Orders’ respect through humility and purity, though where Salomar was a shrewd, flowing river of wisdom, loyal to all the Kingdoms of Arkain, Praxeus was an immovable stone, one ardently loyal only to the Golden Guard. No sooner than gaining majority support for his leadership of the fragmented Paladin Orders, he had them all donned in ornate golden armor and off to kill vermin in caves. Truly a task suited for veteran Paladins. The Dwarves would indeed be necessary to survive the coming battle, though Sir Jay still could not help but reflect upon how he came to be in this stronghold.

Curse van Durce for his arrogance. General Greymoore could have been a key arbiter in this time of internal strife - a man who understood strength, but also acquiescence - perhaps a voice of clarity to unite and finally pay proper heed to the Demons; not to mention the so called “Dominion” that had ravaged Salria. But now he was needlessly absent, dead on the floor of a prison cell and left to rot in Kerrel. And still, curse Gardon thricefold for leaving the remaining voices of reason on the continent no choice. Turning to the undead? Surely he understood the consequences of such a pact when making it.

Sir Jay, and by extension the Paladin Orders, would not let the Kingdoms destroy themselves because that fool Dorten believed it possible to somehow exit this conflict without becoming the next focus of Gardon’s insatiable lust for total control. The Paladins’ loyalty was to all the people of Arkain, not only the symbolic, titular Kingdoms presented by the royal houses. At least consorting with black dragons made it easy for the Golden Guard to conscript enthusiastic citizens from every surrounding Kingdom, as Gardon likely underestimated the visceral fear both the smallfolk and royalty had at the thought of Zyainor.

Sir Jay grew up in Kerrel and heard many tales about dreaded Zyainor as did all children in the Kingdoms of Arkain. He was teased endlessly for his family surname, a name of no special importance, but one that simply sounded silly. His was a family of anglers that refused to answer the call to arms for the First Voidwar, hiding in their wharf hamlet of Stagcross and avoiding any post-war Imperial repercussions. It was not until his formative years that Jay began to resent his parents for their cowardice. Eager to escape the timidity of his bloodline, Sir Jay secretly left his family’s village and became the first to take up a different trade, for his talent was in spinning tales and singing songs.

He first migrated north to Pyrru, visiting establishments both in cities and the countryside, eager to absorb the diverse lifestyles of the inhabitants. It was the sight of it’s cragged coastline which beheld such beauty that Jay could only dream of what wonders existed throughout the rest of Arkain that so many would never have the opportunity to experience. Thus began his cycle of voyaging the continent, a vagabond minstrel of sorts, keen on entertaining as a method to meet the diaspora of Arkain’s inhabitants, for he grew to love them. These adventures even took him to the Elven forests and the Dwarven mines that Humans rarely ever took the opportunity, or had the permission, to enter. The absurdity of his surname lent well to his trade, but he rarely shared it due to the shame he felt towards his family; shame that only deepened as he visited more and more of the lands they once refused to rise up and protect.

It was during Jay’s third journey through Lor that he was graced by the presence of Salomar the Healer - a name many in Lor knew well for it was from their Kingdom the leader of the combined Paladin Orders hailed from. As the final patrons trickled out of the tavern where Jay was singing for the hope of a free drink, an inconspicuous straggler approached him.

“You wrap your words around yourself in very special ways, bard. I can see the bubble they create.”

Jay presumed any folk approaching him this late were drunk and likely to throw insults. Avoiding eye contact, he mumbled, “Apologies if you did not care for the songs, milord.” Jay turned to leave, uneager to sleep on the cold cobble again, when the realization sank in. “A bubble, you say?” The coincidence with his surname did not seem accidental.

And his world forever changed with that conversation as Salomar could sense something within him unknown to himself. Induction into the Paladin Order was not a simple one and candidates needed to display natural talent with holy magics. In their training together, Salomar explained how the ability to bathe in a Divine Shield stemmed from a different, deeply personal source and it was rare indeed to possess the skill at all. Jay discovered his source to be storytelling: a deep desire to experience the peoples of Arkain around him and to spin those experiences into tales for others. At first, Jay needed to speak or sing aloud as if he were still in a dusty tavern or crowded marketplace somewhere, which made the process to summon the Shield untenable in the heat of combat. It was in one of their final sessions that Salomar began prodding about the past and why Jay left years ago, a topic stringently avoided due to Jay’s detachment on the subject.

Upon hearing the admission, Salomar’s typically stern expression softened. “My boy, is this truly the source of all your guilt?” He leaned his hammer against the wall. “What need was there for them to leave behind a broken family and go off to face monsters that fishermen have no business fighting? The Imperials had already arrived and were pushing back! Their local conscriptions were entirely superfluous and your kin likely knew that.”

The matter-of-factness of this response hit Jay like a bundle of lumber. Had he really spent his adult life running away from shame that was entirely misplaced, conflating loyalty to the Empire or even the Kingdoms with loyalty to the actual people of Arkain? He had been projecting his fears into tall tales for strangers in manors and brothels for spare coin and somehow those tall tales allowed him to summon undeserved Divine Strength.

Salomar shook his head as if able to read those thoughts. “You should have told them you were leaving, lad, but what you’ve gained since then is what has shaped you into a true Paladin. You have seen more of Arkain than any I’ve known, even me. The Holy Light provides us with a pool of strength, but our ability to draw from it does not stem from our mere belief in that pool’s existence, rather in our conviction to use it to protect our people. You left your home and spent years specifically learning about the world you intensely believed deserved protecting. You are a true believer in Arkain, Sir Jay.”

Sir Jay. He had not officially earned knighthood yet, but hearing his tutor say those words inspired something deep inside him. A wave of relief washed over Jay and he felt his powers develop over the coming days, for his conduit to the Light was not in telling stories of his experiences, but in the recollection of connecting with so many of his fellow Arkainians. A weaving of thoughts and emotions so powerful that he found he could not only wield Divine Shield, but do so for such a period of time that he quickly became known as *the*Divine Shield, a true symbol of perseverance on the battlefield.

The day he was to be knighted arrived and thoughts of travelling back to Stagcross whipped through his imagination as he wondered if he would be able to find his family. That very same day, emissaries arrived. Demon gates were reopening and demons were flooding into Isalmur. General Cleavehand was amassing under the Dead Mountain in Lor and was conscripting Paladins to reinforce the Imperial defensive line.

Jay blinked and the memories melted away, revealing the painful present he was in. His mentor was now dead and reflecting on his time with Salomar caused Sir Jay a great deal of grief. He longed for the opportunity to reconcile with his parents, which the start of the Second Voidwar had prevented him from doing. Renald Van Durce and Sir Praxeus be damned, but this conflict needed to end and Gardon was simply too dangerous to all of Arkain to be left alive. Zyainor could not be reborn.

And when it ends, Sir Jay would not travel across the Great Sea with Praxeus and the High Lord Inquisitor to confront their corrupted Emperor. For when the Ironfist heraldry lies trampled into the dirt, and the Undead are scattered back to their hellish underground labyrinths beaten and broken, and the Demon threat is utterly purged by the marvelous creation of Lord Marin, and black dragons’ skulls are thrust upon great pikes for all in the Kingdoms of Arkain to see and no longer cower from... Jay would return to Stagcross and find his parents, for he had so very much to tell them. To share with them the wonders of Arkain and confess that he understood now how they did what was within their limited power to protect their family, just as he now does for all of Arkain. At the dawn of the clash between gold and iron, Sir Jay Bubblerino, the Divine Shield, mused on all of the future tales he would tell.