Well, here's part one of Chapter Three. I'll likely have
to send it in three or four parts, because it's a long
one. remember any and all C&C is appreciated, but
flames will be ignored. If you haven't read chapters
one and two, they are on my website. The URL is on
the bottom of the file.

- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard



Disclaimer: The characters and situations in Magic
Knights Rayearth belong to CLAMP, their
publisher/producer, and whatever US company is currently
preparing to release the dubbed version in September.
The below fanfic is intended for entertainment, not
profit, so please don't sue me, I have no money.


                 Paladin of Cephiro
            A Fanfic by Valandar the Red


                    Chapter Three
                        Purity


     The journey from where he fought the beast, to the
city of Lincoln, was an agonizing one for Michael. He was
pretty sure his leg wasn't broken, because it didn't feel
as bad as the time he fell out of the tree back in sixth
grade. However he couldn't put too much weight on it, and
had to rely on his tree-branch crutch. His ribs hurt like
fire as he breathed, and he was almost certain that a few
were cracked, if not broken. He knew that, once he stocked up in town, it 
was over two hundred miles to the Spring of
Eterna, where he would find the escudo for his true
weapons. Hopefully, he could spare a few days there, to rest and recuperate. 
At least, he could rest long enough
for his knee to heal.
     It was almost three hours after nightfall when he
approached the gates of the city. The guards stopped him,
but, upon seeing how his armor resembled that of the Magic
Knights, they opened the gates for him. Everything was
pretty much closed, but they directed him towards an inn
where he could rest for the night.
     The place was known as the Rampant Lion, and the
tavern on the ground floor gave him the impression that it
lived up to its name. He narrowly dodged a rather burly
man, as the drunken sot was being tossed out of the
taveern, through the door. The fact that the door was not
open at the time did not seem to deterr whoever was doing
the tossing. He could smell the familiar scent of hard
liquor, coupled with the horrible odor of unwashed bodies,
as he stepped over the remains of the pine door.
     The interior was not smoky like he had expected, but
that could be because there didn't seem to be any tobacco
on Cephiro. There was a small brawl going on just to the
left of the now empty doorframe, and many of the patrons
were cheering one sode or the other on. The rest were
either too involved in brooding over their drinks to pay
any attention, or too in their cups to care. Seeing that
the only person in here that didn't look like one of the
customers was the heavy woman behind the bar, he walked up,
and caught her attention.
     "Well, well, well, ain't you a cutie!" she called out.
"And in that perty little armor, too. Whatcha want, little
boy?"
     "Right now,I'd >ungh< like a room. And that's all. I'm
not exactly in the best of shape." He leaned heavily on
the wooden bar, and grabbed his side. His ribs really
didn't like the effort of talking.
     "Of course, puddin'. Now, would ye be wantin' a
private room, or a spot on the floor of the common room?"
She leered at him as she spoke, a look that really made him
uncomfortable.
     "Uh...how much is each?"
     "Oh, the common room only costs ya three, and the
effort it takes ta find a spot. A private room costs ten,
but ya gotta pay up front." She leaned over the bar,
showing the ample cleavage of her extremely full figure.
"And the other half of my bed is free, if ya don't mind not
gettin' much sleep, ha ha ha!"
     Actually quite disgusted by the offer from the over-
weight woman, he shook his head. "I've got broken ribs and
a sprained knee. I don't even want to thnk about anything
like," he blushed, "like you're describing. I'll take a
private room." He began to count out the money. "Uh - just
how private is the room?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
     She laughed. "As private as you wan' it ta be,
puddin'!" She straightened, and leered ar him, shaking her
shoulders for an effect roughly equal to a 6.4 on the
Richtor scale.
     "Absolutely private." he said, his voice as firm as he
could make it.
     "Oh, alright, be that way. Here's your key." She
tossed a key down on the bar, and started to stomp away.
     "Wait a shec, Miss Civic. I don' t'ink dish 'ere boy
shood oughta go to 'is room without shome shorta drink!"
The new voice came from the obviously drunk man to
Michael's right. Placing an arm on the Paladin's arm, he
continued, "Now, come on, boy. Git yerself shomethin ta
drink. 'Ell, it's on me!" The drunk tossed a few coins on
the bar.
     "Well, puddin'," asked Miss Civic, "What's it gonna
be ?"
     Silence fell over the room. The last two brawlers just
collapsed where they were, passed out on top of each other.
He could feel every eye in the place watching him, to see
what he was going to do. This made what he had to do even
harder.
     "Then...then I'll have a large glass of water,
please."
     The silence grew even deeper. An almost electric
charge filled the room, as the drunk's eyes grew wide, then
narrowed. "So, yer shayin' Miss Civic's booze ain't good
enuff fer ya, huh?" A backhand lashed out, catching Michael
right on the corner of his chin. The magic of his armor
kept the blow from breaking his jaw, but it still sent him
sprawling. He landed on his side on the floor, a thousand
jolts of agony streaming from his injured ribs.
     "Git up, ya frickin' puss! Ya don't come in 'ere, and
act all high-an'-mighty 'bout Miss Civic's booze!" A boot
lashed out, thudding against his breatplate. He rattled
inside the armor, and a single piercing thrust of pain
shot through the rest of his tortured haze.
     Miss Civic did something completely unexpected for a
woman of her girth, and clambered over the bar. Grabbing
the drunk, she slammed him back against the bar. "Ford,
you leave that boy alone, right now! Can'tcha see he was
hurt afore he ever walked in here?"
     The rest of the crowd tried to proccess the sight of
the hefty woman's athletic feat, and just decided to back
away. A couple who had caught her statement to Ford
actually had the presence of mind to look at their feet,
ashamed of themselves. "B-but, Miss Civic, he inshulted yer
booze!"
     "That don't mean nothin', ya drunk ol' coot! Now, you
are gonna pick up that there boy, an' you are gonna help me
get 'im to the room he done already paid for, you unner-
stand me?"
     He grumbled, but replied,"Well, okay. But only cuz you
shaid I hadda." He bent over to try and pick up the barely
conscious Michael, and passed out on top of the young man.
     "Sakes alive, I gotta do it meself. One o' you who
ain't nearly dead ta the world, yet, you gets Ford here
back ta his home. The rest o' ya, either drink up, or git
out, an' take the sleepin' ones with ya." She bent over,
and gently picked up the Paladin. He had passed out from
the pain in his ribs, by now, and hung limp in her arms.
"Well, boy, I don' know what hurt ya so bad, but I'll do
right by ya, you can count on that."

                    ********************


*********************************************
- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard
   Relatively enthusiastic, but a bit too
  impulive of a writer.
   Firm believer in Destiny in existing
  relationships...but Destiny's ways are fickle.

   "It's never too late to have a happy childhood."
          - Berke Brethed, in Bloom County

http://members.tripod.com/~Valandar/fanfic.html


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