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The sun was just starting to rise over the battlements of Castle Wolfhill. Nestled squarely in the rolling green fields of Aynland, the cobblestone structure stood majestically against the mountains to the North. Sunlight warmed the old rocks forming the towers and turrets of the fortress, the aged stones still holding strong despite their occasionally turbulent past. Castle Wolfhill was a true testament to the strength of House Borreth and its leader, Lord Wilhelm.

Inside the barracks of the keep, a single woman remained inside the sleeping quarters. Her face was stern as she laced another strap of her leg armor, the metal plate pulling in close to her leather-clad quadricep. She dropped her leg from the foot of her simple bed frame, her tough boot clanking against the stone floor. The young lady then dug around in the trunk located at the foot of her bed. Grabbing her chest piece, she threw it over her head and wiggled the cumbersome piece of armor until it was nestled over her breast and back. Brushing her short blonde hair out of her fair-skinned face, she started wrestling awkwardly with the straps of the armor. She was so focused on her task she didn’t notice a hunched-over man wander into the room.

“I thought I might find you here, Carmela.” The old man chuckled, but his slight mirth couldn’t conceal the worry written on his face.

“Father Gregory!” Carmela gasped, her attention quickly snapping to the priest. It wasn’t often the ancient man left the castle’s temple to Aynzerl. He was a kind soul who wore his years without pride or contempt. Dressed in simple gray robes, he used a notched and uneven walking stick to hobble around, refusing to accept offers for a proper cane. His head was bald on top, surrounded by a circle of short and trim gray hair that stopped once it reached his forehead.

“We missed you this morning, Carmela,” Father Gregory said, taking a few more limps into the room. “Lord Wilhelm is a bit worried about what you’re planning.”

Carmela let out an annoyed sigh, “I cannot allow whatever is terrorizing the people around Castle Wolfhill to continue to fester. Lord Wilhelm should know that most of all.” Carmela turned back toward her bed, focusing back on getting the straps for her armor snug.

“I believe Lord Wilhelm is just concerned for your safety,” Father Gregory reasoned. “As am I. You’re not invincible just because you took your oath.”

“I know that,” Carmela tried to remain respectful, but it was starting to get grating having to constantly hear from both him and Lord Wilhelm about how dangerous the beast that recently appeared in the fields south of the castle was. How many times had she heard how irresponsible it would be for a new paladin like her to rush off to meet a threat so deadly and unknown? Far too many, as far as Carmela was concerned.

Father Gregory placed a hand on Carmela’s shoulder. “I know it’s important for you to seek out retribution, but remember, patience is also a virtue of our god.”

“And how long should I be patient?” Carmela’s temper boiled over. Her head whipped toward the priest, her fierce, brown eyes meeting his pleading, sky-blue eyes. “How many more innocent people have to be slaughtered before we do something?”

“Carmela,” Father Gregory, infinitely patient with the brash and bold warriors of Aynzerl, politely and calmly spoke. “There is no sense in charging off into battle, hoping you’ll be victorious. You must be smart about this, prepare for what you’re facing.”

“Oh, this again?” Carmela thought as she turned away from the priest. Why was it these old men were always so concerned with planning things? Aynzerl, the God of Righteousness and Retribution, Protector of the Weak, and Liberator of the Enslaved was on their side! With his blessing, why couldn’t Carmela face any foe?

“But, I suppose I cannot convince you otherwise,” Father Gregory said with a bittersweet chuckle. The old man brushed aside Carmela’s fumbling hands from the straps of her armor and, with a quick motion, pulled them tight. Without another word, he bent over with a slight groan and picked up her metallic shoulder pads.

Carmela raised her arms up, allowing the priest to assist her. As he placed the pieces of armor on the paladin, she calmed herself and said, “Thank you, Father.”

Father Gregory smiled. “You’d better show that monster the price for harassing the people of Aynland!”

“Yes, sir!” Carmela happily chirped, lowering her arms as soon as Father Gregory finished attaching the last segments of her armor. She ducked down and reached into her trunk once more, popping back up with her sword still held in its scabbard. She quickly set the weapon against her side and tightened it to her waist.

As Carmela briskly marched out of the room, Father Gregory watched her go with a melancholy smile. He had seen too many promising young paladin’s fall to the same unfounded arrogance disguised as chivalry, but he knew better than to stand in there way. After all, it was difficult to tell the difference between self-seeking glory-hogs and truly noble, selfless warriors unable to stand idly by as evil lurked nearby. The priest genuinely hoped she was the latter.

“Protect her, Aynzerl,” Father Gregory whispered.

---------------------------

“Help!”

The cry came out across the rolling plains. Carmela’s head snapped toward the sound, whipping her short, blonde hair back. Her chocolate-colored eyes narrowed, peering off into the distance, searching for the origin of the shout. Her right hand instinctively went to her sword’s hilt, twitching in anticipation to unsheathe the freshly-sharpened blade. The plates guarding her breast, back, shoulders, arms, and legs gleamed magnificently in the sunlight. Despite her short stature, she stood tall and majestically as she scanned the rolling hills.

“Please, help!”

A second cry came from the same direction. This time the call was more feminine, higher pitched and pleading. Carmela’s grip tightened around her sword. Not wasting any more time, she charged off toward the sound, the green blades of grass brushing against her leather and steel leggings.

Cresting a hill, she spotted them. Cowering along a dirt path leading toward a stone bridge were a man and a woman. Dressed in simple, brown clothes, they cowered behind an upturned cart that spilled hay across the dirt road. A donkey, presumably the peasants’, lay dead in front of the cart, its once strong and sturdy body crushed and beaten. Trembling, the meek peasants were clearly not suited to face what was assailing them.

Opposite the peasants was a hulking, gray beast. White hairs dotted his burly shoulders and covered the top of his misshapen head. His chest was bare, and the only thing keeping the cretin’s decency was a loincloth made of leather. His huge, ghastly feet were on full display, the horrid things covered in warts and its toenails gnarled and yellow. His skin was partially covered with stone-like scales, providing some level of protection for the ugly creature. In one of his large, grotesque hands was a giant, wooden club, fresh blood dripping from the crude instrument of violence. Slowly, the horrible troll was closing in on his next victims.

Carmela’s sword was out in a flash, “Halt, vile beast!”

The stupid troll took a second to find where the sudden, booming voice of justice was coming from. Looking up, the putrid foe beheld Paladin Carmela, her sword and armor shining brilliantly in the midday sun. Unfortunately, the creature didn’t seem impressed by the noble swordsman.

“Surrender now, or feel the sting of my blade!” Carmela readied herself for the inevitable charge. So this was the monster that was terrorizing Aynland. Her palms started to sweat as she took in the monstrosity before her, but her stalwart determination was not phased. By the end of their clash, one of them would be slain, and if it was her time, then she could think of no more noble way to meet her end than saving the weak and helpless.

The troll stared dumbly up at Carmela. At last, something clicked in the hopelessly thick thing’s brain. Anger flared across its scarred and pimpled face. The beast roared, grasping its club in both hands as it stomped toward its new enemy.

Carmela returned the cry of rage, rushing down the hill at full speed. Seeing the troll move, she recognized the beast wasn’t light on its feet. As long as she could dodge and avoid its heavy attacks, she could slash and stab the monster until it fell. Her leather and steel armor clattered as she ran toward the troll. She grasped her blade in both hands, ready to begin her deadly dance with the beast.

The troll came in swinging. Raising his mighty club up, he attempted to crush Carmela in one, overhead swing. But Carmela knew better than to meet the troll head on. Skidding slightly, the paladin veered off to the troll’s left. She felt the club crash against the ground, a small quake signaling its impact. Bringing her sword in close, she readied herself to skewer the troll’s side.

With all her strength, Carmela stabbed at the troll’s left side. Her blade, honed to a fine point, bounced off a thick, stony scale. This troll was made of sterner stuff than she anticipated!

With a grunt, the troll pulled on the club, bringing it out of the ground and toward Carmela. Her eyes snapped toward the hefty wooden weapon, and she nimbly dodged the clumsy swing. Carried by the weight of the enormous club, the troll stumbled slightly and revealed his right side to Carmela.

In an instant, Carmela studied the creature’s right side and arm. All of it was covered in the same gross, gray scales, with only small pockets of skin showing. But, she could see that the stone plates did dissipate further down the troll’s limbs. Holding her sword out at her right side, she quickly closed the distance made by her dodge, her sights set on the beast’s right forearm. Taking her sword in both hands, her blade hanging behind her back, she slashed at the troll’s forearm.

Carmela could feel the sword slice against the skin. But looking back at the wound she just inflicted, she was shocked to see how pathetic the injury was. It looked like she had only scratched the beast's surface, and none of its putrid blood dripped from the measly cut. It was as if she was fighting this monster with a butter knife!

The troll growled, his beady black eyes fixated on the stunned paladin. Heaving his massive club back to his side, he readied another attack. Carmela snapped out of her shock just in time. As the troll swung at her like a baseball player going for a home run, Carmela realized her dire situation.

Catching her breath, she turned her head to the peasants, “Run! Get out of here, now!”

The last thing she wanted was for those poor souls to join her in death. Thankfully, the fearful people quickly took Carmela’s advice. With panicked grunts and cries, the peasants rushed off down the road. Carmela’s eyes narrowed at her foe. Things were looking grim, but she was still going to try and slay the beast!

For grueling minutes, Carmela attempted to injure the enraged troll. But she lacked the strength to pierce the abhorrent beast’s skin, and she couldn’t seem to scratch the horrible thing’s stony scales. Her stamina put to the test, she continued to evade swing after swing of the unfaltering troll’s attacks. She could feel her energy draining, and each heave of the club got closer and closer to finding its mark. If she wasn’t careful, it was going to-

Clang!

The troll, at last, struck the exhausted paladin. Switching up its attack at just the right moment, it managed to land its stab at Carmela. She felt the wind knocked out of her as she tumbled down the hillside, landing in a heap against the cart. Groaning, she caught sight of the troll standing before her, its raised club silhouetted against the sun.

Crunch!

Carmela screamed in pain. Looking down, she saw the cruel creature had decided to play with its meal. Underneath the mighty wooden club was her right leg. As the troll lifted its makeshift weapon up, she saw how twisted and crushed her once healthy leg had become. Her eyes watered. Every nerve in her destroyed leg cried out in simultaneous agony. And looking up, she saw with horror the fiendish creature had her next leg in its sights.

Crunch!

Carmela let loose another bloodcurdling shout which lowered into a pained whimper. Just like before, the troll slowly lifted its club, revealing her pulverized left leg. The plates upon it, once shining beacons of hope, were now dented and cracked, the light faded from there surfaces. Carmela squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight through the unrelenting, unbearable pain.

At yet, even in this defeated state, Carmela didn’t give up. Fire in her eyes, she looked up at her torturer with killing intent, her brown eyes fierce despite her miserable state. The troll seemed quite conceited, looking down at the broken paladin with an infuriatingly smug smirk.

Shakily, Carmela hoisted her sword up toward the heavens. The only thing that could save her now was the sacred spell taught to her by Father Gregory: Holy Blade. How she was going to get close enough to actually stab the wretched troll was another issue, but she had faith that her god would provide her a way to reap retribution on this sinister creature.

Channeling divine energy, she declared, “By the will of Aynzerl, I shall see you slain!”

A familiar jolt of power enveloped into her weapon. She smiled as she saw the troll stumble backward, blinded by the flash of holy light empowering her weapon. But there was something strange about her spell. The power was simply too much for the weapon, and Carmela could feel the holy energy seeping out of the blade and into her body. Had she cast the spell correctly?

More and more warm, edifying energy enveloped Carmela. She could feel it moving through her right arm, entering her chest, and dissipating out into her left arm, legs, and head. It reminded her of her first communion with Aynzerl during her Paladin Initiation. Ever more sacred power flowed into the broken warrior as time passed, strength and stamina returning to her weak and broken body.

Meanwhile, the troll was recovering. Rubbing its eyes, the beast’s face was flushed with rage. Baring its grotesque teeth, it roared in anger as it raised its club. Holding the massive thing high, it brought down the wooden club with a thunderous crash. And while the strike destroyed the cart Carmela was sitting against, it did not hit the empowered paladin.

Confused, the troll turned to see the incapacitated swordsman somehow standing up! Her body was hunched, her legs were shaky, but, miraculously, the holy warrior had dodged the attack and was now standing against the hellish beast. The troll’s mouth went slack as it beheld the paladin shrouded in divine light.

Carmela honestly couldn’t believe it, either! She knew that Aynzerl blessed those that fought for goodness and righteousness throughout the land, but she really didn’t think she was worthy of such power. And yet, she could feel it, the unbridled, holy strength flowing through her body. Her aches and pains were soothed, her heart and lungs were revitalized, and her muscles were strengthened once again. In fact, her legs, once shattered and broken, were feeling really strong!

Carmela looked down and saw the blessing molding her lower body. She could feel extra flesh spontaneously constructing, lengthening her torso vertebrae by vertebrae. And as she grew taller, she had more difficulty standing upright. Caught off guard, she clumsily attempted to stay on her feet, but her body didn’t seem to want to remain that way. Wobbling, she couldn’t keep her balance and felt her body fly forward.

But she didn’t hit the dirt face first. Instead, she hit it hooves first. Carmela’s eyes grew wide as she witnessed new horse legs erupt out of her elongated torso just in time to catch her. Even in such an early stage, she could feel an inhuman strength abound within them. With every passing moment, her extra legs grew taller and stronger until they were sturdy trunks of equine strength.

Her lower body also changed to match her impressive forelegs. Sacred forces fueled the sudden transformation, causing the once strangely extended human torso to quickly barrel out. The swelling body exploded with additional muscles and bones, layer after layer of feral vigor compounding into a magnificent pillar of unbridled might. And within that new body, extra organs began to manifest, powering the energetic equine engine beneath Carmela’s human half.

Peering behind her, Carmela saw that her previously human legs had shed their ruined armor and morphed into horse legs. She also saw her tail flick out of her rear, the blonde strands looking exactly like the glorious hair atop her head. She watched in awe as her horse body bristled with brown fur, shielding her equine skin from the elements. Even her ears grew to match her horse-like lower body, elongating into brown-furred, velvety horse ears. In a matter of seconds, Carmela was no longer human. She had become one of Aynzerl’s chosen warriors: a Blade of Aynzerl.

But she didn’t have long to consider her changed state. The troll, who now didn’t seem quite as big and threatening thanks to her increased height and stature, was already charging madly at her. It held its club behind it, ready to bring it down as soon as it came within striking distance. The fiend was confident in its attack; the paladin wasn’t even moving! With all its nightmarish strength, it heaved the club against the newly formed centaur.

Quickly raising her blade with both hands, Carmela parried the strike. Empowered by the might of Aynzerl, she found the power to redirect the cataclysmic strike. The wooden club’s surface was burned as it slid along the paladin’s still glowing blade. Then it slammed harmlessly into the dirt beside Carmela’s hoof. The doomed troll looked down in dismay at his club, his expression quickly switching to abject horror as it beheld the paladin’s righteous indignation.

Rearing up with a scream, Carmela kicked off toward her foe. It felt stunning to have such control over her completely unfamiliar body. The sheer, exhilarating force, galloping toward her enemy to deliver divine retribution was nirvana to the holy warrior. Her hearts pounded; her lungs expanded; her muscles flared. She was ready to bring justice. She stabbed at the troll, feeling every ounce of her strength lash out against its exposed belly.

Carmela drove the sword hilt-deep into the troll's chest. The dark gray skin around the sword glowed yellow, burning away the rotten, corrupt flesh surrounding it. The centaur paladin stared deep into the troll’s black eyes hatefully, driving her sword in a little more. The troll, flabbergasted by the sudden turn of the tide, could only gawk in awestruck silence at its executioner. With a cry, Carmela ripped her sword out of the troll’s chest and, with a final slash of her glowing blade, lobbed the creature’s head clean off.

Carmela flicked her sword, banishing some of the black blood from her blade. Rising the blade back up, she saw the holy light coming from it slowly dissipate. However, she didn’t feel her body alter. While the holy energy did leave it, she didn’t feel her horse body shrink back down into two human legs. Tentatively lifting her hooves one by one, she realized that this blessing was permanent. She was really a Blade of Aynzerl.

Turning away from the putrid corpse and lowering her body down, she stuck her blade into the ground and bowed her head in prayer.

“Gracious Aynzerl, I thank you for this gift. In your name, I shall smite the wicked and protect the weak.”

Her words were heartfelt, but despite her devotion, she had some lingering doubts. What would the rest of the knights think of her when she returned home? How was she going to get around in the halls of the castle, or in the homes of gracious citizens? How would she sleep in her bed? Had her eating habits changed? There was so much different about her body now, and, hopefully, Aynzerl would be there to guide her.

Rising to her hooves, she turned to look down the path. In the distance, she could see Castle Wolfhill rising majestically out of the ground. The road snaked along the rolling green hills toward the wood and stone rooftops of the castle towers and large town buildings. A pleasant smile crossed her face as her thoughts returned to home. Something told her that, despite her more cumbersome body, Lord Wilhelm and the citizenry within wouldn’t mind accommodating her. They were good people, after all.

Carmela started moving down the road. Then, she remembered the poor peasants! Her slow trot turned into a full gallop as she rushed off to see to them.

---------------------------

A gust blew across the emerald countryside south of Castle Wolfhill. The tall blades of lush grass swayed in the wind, making the vacant land seem alive. High above, a few puffy white clouds lazily followed the direction of the breezes swishing through the land below. The bountiful sun was already halfway toward its western goal, its light subtly shifting more to a golden color. Carmela trotted through the tranquil land, her posture relaxed but her eyes still vigilant.

It had been several days since her fateful transition into a centaur, and she was still getting used to living as one. While she had instantly mastered controlling her body, it was a different matter adjusting her everyday life to her bizarre new form. The blacksmith back in Castle Wolfhill had graciously provided her some additional leather coverings and metal plates for her horse body, but it was a short-order job and left a few holes in her defenses. And then there was the awkwardness of having to relocate to an unused stable within the castle walls. While Lord Wilhelm had seen to his new Blade of Aynzerl as best he could, making the place easily the most accommodating and pristine stable Carmela had ever seen, there was still something degrading about having to live in the same place as a common riding horse. Coupled with her trouble with door frames and moving through rooms with low ceilings, Carmela couldn’t help but feel a tinge of embarrassment at how cumbersome she had become.

But out here, in the open fields, she excelled. Her boundless stamina let her venture far out into the farthest reaches of House Borreth’s territory, helping to maintain order in the ambiguous places separating their land from the other nations and city-states. And with the extra supplies she could carry on her horse body, she could deploy out into the field for several days without having to worry about returning home to Castle Wolfhill or becoming encumbered. Though this was her first time doing it, Carmela was certain she’d be up for doing it again.

Currently, her mission was to follow up on reports of foreign soldiers passing through House Borreth’s lands. While House Borreth was well-respected by the other lords and city-states surrounding it, some of the more uncouth peoples to the South tended to “patrol their border” a little beyond their actual border. Talk of soldiers wearing red-griffon emblems roughing up farmers and stealing livestock had reached Lord Wilhelm, so Carmela’s first mission as a Blade of Aynzerl was to remind those vagabonds who owned these lands.

So far, things had been quiet. Two days in and the only souls Carmela had encountered were kindly peasants working their fields. Beyond them, only the occasional bird or rabbit kept the centaur company as she patrolled the southern border. And it seemed like today was going to be another quiet day.

Until Carmela picked up distant voices on the wind. She froze mid-step. Her brown, equine ears perked up, brushing aside her golden locks. Listening intently, her animal ears distinctly heard several voices coming from the southwest. She thought back, trying to remember if there were any farms nearby. She reached for her map contained in one of the packs against her horse body, but before she could, a faint but clear call rang out:

“Leave me be!”

Carmela’s head shot up. Forgetting about the map, she picked up her pace toward the call. As she cantered forward, the voices became louder. Cresting a hill, she spotted several figures standing on the dirt road going north-south.

Closer to her was a single man. He wore a black robe that seemed to be made of an odd fabric Carmela hadn’t seen before, the individual strands seeming too large to be simple cloth. Luxurious black hair flowed down from his head to just barely above his shoulders, curling slightly out. Carmela could only spot a bit of the left side of his face, but based on his body language, the man was clearly exhausted and scared.

Opposite to the lone man was a group of armored soldiers. A large, red griffon was painted on their white iron breastplates. Underneath their single piece of plate armor, the soldiers wore chainmail that reached down to their knees. Their simple white tunics covered the rest of their average frames, and large, dark brown boots shielded their feet. While their swords weren’t drawn, Carmela could see their hands hovering over their hilts.

“Gentlemen, please!” Carmela overheard the tired words of the closer man. “How many times must we repeat this song and dance? I gave you all a wonderful performance last night, did I not? Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Well, yeah, those songs were nice, but you still gotta pay the toll,” the middle soldier said, taking a few steps closer to the black-haired man. “Y’know, that lyre you got seemed pretty nice.”

The black-haired man pulled his black robe tighter around himself, “Absolutely not! There’s no way I’m paying your outrageous ‘crossing fee’ with my prized possession, you snakes!”

“Ah, quit your belly-achin’” Another soldier scornfully sneered. “We took good care of yah while you were in our forest, so it’s only right hard-working folks like us get some,” a coy smile curved the side of the mean soldier’s mouth, “compensation.”

“Well, embezzle your money elsewhere, you cads!” the music man spat, turning to run. Unfortunately, his exhaustion had made him clumsy. Tripping over his peculiar robe, he face-planted into the dirt, eliciting uproarious laughter from the cruel soldiers.

Carmela had seen enough. Galloping down from the hilltop, she jumped onto the road between the soldiers and the beleaguered man.

“What business have you in House Borreth lands?” Carmela demanded, her right hand grasping her sword’s handle. Her explosive entrance caught the lackadaisical guards by surprise. Judging by their stunned expressions, none of them had seen a Blade of Aynzerl before. But after a moment, the middle soldier, presumably the leader of the bunch, relaxed and put on a sly smile.

“Hail, Paladin!” he greeted the centaur, “I must admit, I don’t believe any of us have witnessed an Aynzerl Blade before. Well met!”

Carmela didn’t have time for pleasantries. “I’ll ask you again: what business have you in Aynland?”

The leader shrugged innocently. “We were just collecting our just dues from this freeloader. He seemed to think he could skirt by our checkpoint without paying the toll by bewitching us with music and, while we slept, slip away.”

“That’s a lie!” The man behind Carmela protested. “My masterful playing had those slackjaw, lumbering fools awestruck from start to finish!”

“Quiet you!” the soldier to the right snapped.

The middle soldier continued, “As you can see, we’re a bit tired from chasing down this scoundrel. So if you could just step aside and let us collect our proper dues, we’ll be on our way back to Darwald.”

Carmela turned to the black-haired man. Now in full view of his face, she saw he possessed a handsome, boyish charm. His sapphire eyes looked up at the paladin with the same unspoken pleading as a slave looking to a freeman in the presence of their master. Looking down at his feet, Carmela was sad to see they were only protected by old, worn leather boots that seemed ready to crumble off his feet. While the man was certainly dirty, judging from the way he spoke and carried himself, he hardly seemed like the typical hobo.

“Is that true?” Carmela asked the man.

“Of course not!” the man indignantly cried. “Those bandits have completely blocked off the road leading away from Darwald. They were charging exorbitant prices for ‘the privilege’,” the man added extra, mocking disdain to the two words, “to reach this superb land.”

“Now I ask you, Noble Paladin, is not entertaining those fools as they drunkenly celebrated their ill-gotten gains until the wee hours of the night not payment enough?” For extra emphasis, the bard lifted his palms up, showing how his fingers had been rubbed raw after playing his lyre for so long.

“N-Now wait just a second!” one of the soldiers spoke up. “His songs made us-”

Carmela whipped her head around, “Still your tongue!”

She looked back over to see the bard graciously bowing, “Thank you, just Paladin. As you can see, these men are quite rude and have a pension for twisting the truth for their own nefarious purposes. I can assure you, my masterful playing may be spellbinding, but it does not possess the kind of magical power that these men claim. I am merely a poor bard seeking to visit this land to hear tales of their champions and, in return, serenade the fine people that live here.”

Carmela studied the bard. He certainly fit the description of “poor.” His simple robe, his ruined boots, his scruffy appearance, they all made the man look destitute. And judging by his tired face and raw fingers, it was a safe assumption that he had indeed played all night. Finally, his honest, pleading expression broke the paladin’s heart. She wouldn’t leave this poor man alone with the soldiers.

She turned to the soldiers, “You’ve gotten your dues from this man. Return to Darwald.”

“Hey, who do you think you-” one of the soldiers started angrily, taking a step forward. The head soldier held him back, however, cutting off his challenge.

“Paladin, you can’t seriously expect us to leave without proper payment,” he snidely spoke, an irritatingly smug smirk smeared on his face. “After all, that would be unlawful, wouldn’t it?”

Carmela knew what the sly soldier was trying to pull, and she wasn’t amused. Her glorious blade was out in an instant.

“This man has given you enough,” Carmela growled sternly, her muscles tensing. “If you are unsatisfied with his payment, then you shall have to get past me first. Leave this place, or feel the sting of my blade.”

Her threat shook the younger soldiers, but the head one returned her glare. A slight breeze blew across the road as the two sides locked eyes. Carmela’s grip tightened on her sheathed sword. The older soldier eyed the centaur, taking in her shining plated armor, her confident stance, and lean horse body.

At last, the leader broke the silence, “Ah, fine. That stuck-up bard isn’t worth this much trouble. Come on, guys.”

The three turned and started walking down the road toward the distant forest. Carmela relaxed, sheathing her sword. She watched the shady soldiers for a time with a frown. It was possible that they were the ones the reports were about, but she didn’t want to cut them down without more evidence. And maybe her firm talk would keep them in the woods where they belonged. Then again, she kind of hoped they would be back. She was itching to teach them a lesson. A self-righteous smirk tugged her mouth as the three faded behind the hilly landscape.

“Ah, marvelous!” the bard happily exclaimed, redirecting Carmela’s attention to him. “Thank you, gracious Paladin. You have no idea how troublesome those scoundrels have been. And if you thought they were insufferable now, you should have seen them when they were inebriated.” He shook his head at the thought.

“You’re quite welcome,” the centaur said with a smile.

“Oh, dear me, where are my manners? I haven’t properly introduced myself yet,” the bard said with a chuckle. “I am Cedric Harper, the Beautiful and Bountiful Voice of the Eastern Coast.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Cedric Harper,” Carmela said sweetly. “I’m Carmela, Paladin of Aynzerl and Sword of House Borreth.”

“Oh please, Carmela, call me Sid,” the bard said with an infectious grin.

“Well, Sid, if you’re looking for a place to stay for the night, Castle Wolfhill is about a day’s journey from here. Keep following this road, and you should come to the town by nightfall.”

“Umm, actually,” Sid said nervously, “I was wondering if you could maybe take me there?”

“Oh, the roads in Aynland are actually quite safe, especially north of here,” Carmela said with a bit of pride.

“Well, it’s not the safety of the roads that has me concerned, as I’m sure with excellent warriors like you around, ruffians can’t possibly fester,” Sid complimented heartily before getting sheepish again. “I was more asking for… a lift, if you will.”

Carmela cocked an eyebrow, “A lift?”

“You know,” Sid's voice petered out. He wrung his hands, trying to summon the courage to be blunter. “A ride to the, umm, to the castle.”

The centaur finally put two and two together. “What?” she exclaimed, disgust marring her face.

“Please! Please!” Sid quickly added, attempting to calm her down. “I twisted my ankle as I was fleeing those scoundrels, and I’m so very tired after last night and this morning jogging through this countryside. I just don’t think I could make it to town in my current state. I swear, I can repay you somehow if you could… just, get me to a town, any town, really.”

“I’m not some riding horse!”

“I know! You’re an accomplished warrior and a shining beacon of Aynzerl’s light upon the world. But surely you are also a servant for the downtrodden?” Sid said with a hopeful smile, his shoulders shrugging. “And I can tell you, I’m feeling very downtrodden right now.”

Carmela was having second thoughts about saving this degenerate. It was just so insulting to be debased in such a manner! She turned her head away, upset over the implication that some stranger would even suggest “riding her.” She was a Blade of Aynzerl, not a Steed of Aynzerl!

But as she thought about it, Sid was right about being a servant of the people. As unappealing as it was, the bard needed help getting to town, and she had the body to get him there. With a heavy sigh, she looked back at the bard.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yes! Oh, thank you so much, dear Carmela!” Sid said, almost skipping over to her right side. As he did, she noticed he seemed quite light on his feet for someone that had an injured ankle…

Rolling her eyes, she knelt down and let the man scramble up her flank. With a bit of effort, the bard finally got situated on her back. It felt odd having a weight placed there, but thankfully, Sid wasn’t all that heavy.

“Umm, you don’t mind if I hold onto you for stability, right?”

Carmela blushed, “J-Just hold onto my stomach, and don’t get any funny ideas!”

“What? No, of course not! Who do you take me for?” Sid retorted.

“A lazy man,” Carmela grumbled as she started down the road.

“Lazy?” Sid repeated, aghast. “Listen here, I had to stay up and entertain those fools for hours, and I’ve been running all morning. I’m exhausted!”

“Not enough to keep you from talking, though,” Carmela flatly quipped.

“Ah, mmm, alright, fair point,” Sid relented with a chuckle.

Carmela trotted down the dirt road, trying her best to ignore the insolent man upon her. So this was what a mighty Blade of Aynzerl, sworn to slay the wicked and assist the meek, had been reduced to: transporting some bard. She sighed as she plodded along, doing her best to not pay attention to her hitchhiker.

Unfortunately for her, Sid couldn’t stay quiet for long.

“So,” Sid broke the silence, dragging the word out, “I must admit, I, too, have never seen a, what did that dolt call you, ‘Aynzerl Blade’ or something?”

“Yes, I am a Blade of Aynzerl,” Carmela said emotionlessly, her eyes still on the empty road.

“It certainly sounds important. You must have done something quite spectacular to receive such a title,” Sid complimented.

“Indeed.” Despite herself, Carmela’s elation over being chosen shone through her flat delivery.

“I have to ask, though” Sid continued, leaning in slightly to catch Carmela’s eye, “are you all centaurs? I’ve heard stories of half-man, half-horses, but I’ve never encountered one in my travels before.”

“We are,” Carmela said, her voice gaining a bit of excitement. “Our God, Aynzerl, first bestowed this gift on Paladin Bartholomew many centuries ago. The horse half was to assist him in delivering swift and final justice to a notorious group of horse-riding bandits that ravaged his hometown.”

“My goodness, how exciting!” Sid exclaimed. “But then, why give all of you the same form?”

Carmela pondered that for a moment before answering, “I’m not sure. I can tell you, though, possessing the body of a horse has greatly helped me. As you can see, the Darwaldians have been plaguing both travelers and farmers here, and we did not have the horses nor the supplies to send troops out here to protect our people.”

“Ah,” Sid said, leaning back, “I suppose that does make sense. Strange that your god didn’t just grant you a mighty steed, instead.”

Carmela shot Sid a dirty look. “N-Not that I’m questioning his will or anything! It’s just, well, let’s just say I’ve had some experience in transformation, and for me, personally, I can say suddenly becoming inhuman was quite… taxing.”

“Honestly, this strange body Aynzerl blessed me with saved me,” Carmela said, her expression softening as she recalled. “Four days ago, I was fighting a nasty troll that had been plaguing our lands…”

---------------------

“She turned you into a pig?” Carmela exclaimed, her brown eyes wide in shock.

“Oh yes,” Sid said nonchalantly, “but thankfully, I still had my wits about me. So when she brandished a dagger, cackling like a banshee, I knew I had to act quickly. So I sprung at the vile creature with all my might, and sent her careening into the wanting jaws of my spiderized friend! And, I’m sure you can imagine, that dastardly hag didn’t stand a chance against my arachnid associate.”

The sun had lowered in the large, open sky, now barely hanging above the western horizon. Carmela had to admit, for as pompous and self-aggrandizing as Sid was, he had a certain sincere charm about him. He had attentively listened to her story about her fight with the troll, and had even suggested writing a song about her encounter! Of course, the man couldn’t help but start talking about himself after a while, but Carmela was intrigued to hear of his own experiences with transformation.

Carmela shook her head, “I still can’t believe the Witch of the High Woods did that to you. I had always heard such nice stories of her helping travelers and acting graciously.”

“Hmph!” Sid huffed. “Well, I can say from personal experience, she was nothing more than a grotesque fiend and a manipulative old crone. I have to say, Aubrey was quite fortunate I saved her from falling under that hag’s spell.”

“So, how did you two get back to normal, then?”

“Heh heh, this might come as a shock,” Sid said, “but we were actually cured by a Sister of the Web!”

Carmela stopped in her tracks and turned to face the smirking bard, “You’re joking.”

“I swear on my life, it’s true,” Sid said, holding his right hand up and placing his other on his chest. “I actually utilized my enhanced smelling capabilities to locate her den, and after a bit of convincing, she was gracious enough to return me to my human form.”

“But what about Aubrey?” Carmela said, starting down the road again.

“Actually, she stayed behind,” Sid said with a bit of melancholy. “The Sister couldn’t turn her back into a human, at least not fully, so she’s actually a Sister now, too.”

“Oh, how awful!” Carmela cried.

“What do you mean?” Sid questioned.

“That she’s been cursed like the rest of the Sisters,” Carmela explained. “Now she’s been bound to serve the evil spirits of the swamp. Truly a shame a noble warrior like her met such a fate.”

“Death would be a mercy for her,” the paladin thought but kept to herself. Hearing the bard gush about how great and friendly this Aubrey Vendell was, she knew such a rational but harsh assessment wouldn’t be well-received.

“Mmm, I’m not certain how true those stories about the Sisters are,” Sid said skeptically. “The Sister I met was quite accommodating, and didn’t seem to be under anyone’s 'spell.'”

“Well, I pray your right and your friend isn’t controlled by such malevolent forces,” Carmela said, her attention focused on the large walls of Castle Wolfhill just a few paces forward. The stone battlements shielded the two from the late-day sun as they drew closer. Calling up to the guards, Carmela and Sid watched the enormous metal and wood doors slowly creek open for them.

Walking into the central courtyard, Carmela and Sid were greeted by a towering man flanked by two guards. The mat of gray hair flowing down from his head was cut short, only barely covering his ears and pushed aside from his face. His bushy white eyebrows and thick white beard gave the man the same looks as a beast, and his intense blue eyes only amplified that feral disposition. His tailored and magnificent crimson robes made him look like a bipedal brickhouse. The man dwarfed the other two soldiers dressed in similar brown leather and metal armor to Carmela’s upper half. Upon seeing this hulking man, Carmela’s eyes went wide.

“Lord Wilhelm!” Carmela yelped, quickly bowing her head in respect. “I apologize for coming in early, but I had to take this man to safety.” Her horse body shifted slightly, revealing her rider.

Lord Wilhelm’s eyes shifted from his paladin to his visitor. His slightly annoyed expression remained unchanged.

“Ah, my Lord!” Sid sweetly spoke, quickly sliding off of Carmela. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance. I am Cedric Harper, the Beautiful and Bountiful Voice of the Eastern Shore!” With a showy flick of his arm, he gave the Baron of Castle Wolfhill a graceful bow, his left arm extended and his right arm held underneath his chest.

Lord Wilhelm said nothing, allowing Sid to continue, “And it’s true. I’m terribly sorry for bothering your spectacular soldier for such a mundane purpose. But you see, I was attacked by some bandits parading themselves as Soldiers of Darwald, and your trusty servant showed them what-for! If I may, I would love to serenade you and your find house with fine music to show my appreciation for your marvelous paladin.”

“A bard, huh?” Lord Wilhelm grunted, his low tone sounding like the growl of a bear. Carmela peered over at Sid, seeing him look just a bit off-balance under the intimidating, unamused gaze of Lord Wilhelm.

“Fantastic!”

Lord Wilhelm’s face lit up, the jolly old man dropping his dour facade. He marched up to the confused bard and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

“Oh, this is wonderful! I can't tell you the last time we had a professional musician in our midst. Come, you must be exhausted from the road, especially if those damn Darwaldians were giving you trouble. I swear, those crooks are always trying to pull a fast one on honest folk such as yourself.”

“I-Indeed!” Sid responded as he was practically dragged away by Lord Wilhelm toward the inner castle. He looked back at Carmela with a concerned look. Carmela just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. For as impressive and intimidating as Lord Wilhelm appeared, she knew he was a bit of a goofball.

“Oh, and Carmela!” Lord Wilhelm shouted, turning back to the paladin. “Welcome home and good work! The blacksmith has something for you when you get around to it. Be sure to get some rest and get back out to the frontier as soon as you can.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Carmela proudly responded, straightening up and pounding her chest with her right arm in a salute.

With that, Lord Wilhelm and his hostage sauntered off toward the inner keep. Carmela smiled and shook her head. It was still funny to see how people responded to the head of House Borreth, but she was sure Sid would get along great with him. After all, Lord Wilhelm always had a soft spot for travelers, particularly bards.

Taking a right, Carmela trotted off to the blacksmith. She passed by and greeted the other soldiers and citizens along the way. Most of them were on their way back to the barracks or their homes, while a few were busy lighting torches and lamps to illuminate Castle Wolfhill’s interior as night rapidly approached. Traveling along the dirt and stone paths cutting between the structures within the castle’s walls, she reached the blacksmith’s abode.

The wooden structure seemed rather plain except for the large chimney billowing black smoke into the early evening sky. A signpost shaped like a black anvil hung over the dwelling's entrance. The windows looking into the establishment were lit, and Carmela could see the stout blacksmith still hard at work inside. Trotting up to the door, she rapped the door twice with a hoof. After a few seconds, the wooden door opened and the blacksmith’s head popped out.

The short blacksmith’s gaze first met Carmela’s equine chest, then quickly lifted to recognize her face. “Oh, Carmela! Yer back early.”

“Hello, Terrance,” Carmela politely spoke. “Lord Wilhelm said you had something for me.”

“Mmm, yes,” the burly man remembered. “I’ve been workin’ on that armor fer yer horse-bits. Here, come around the side and I’ll git ‘em out fer yah.”

“Philip!” Terrance roared as he ducked back inside his shop. Meanwhile, Carmela swung around to the right side of the structure. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the new armor she would be getting. Properly dressed, she could challenge any foe with impunity. Her lips parted into a giddy grin; she just couldn’t contain her excitement for some proper armor for her lower half!

Carmela stood by the workshop’s side entrance for a few seconds before Terrance and his apprentice emerged. Carmela’s eyes lit up at the sight of the metallic plates of armor covering the large sheet of horse armor the two men carried. Despite their heavy look, Carmela saw that the two men seemed to have little trouble hoisting the solid steel. Carmela’s happy grin only grew once she saw the sleek and flawless sheets of perfected metal glitter in the light coming from the shop.

“Oh, gentlemen, it looks perfect!” Carmela excitedly declared, quickly swinging her body around to allow the men to place the armor on her. “Do you mind?”

“Ah, it’d be an honor, miss,” Terrance spoke for the two. The veteran blacksmith and his protege lifted the armor up and over Carmela’s crouching horse body. She felt the extra weight suddenly plop down on her, and while it was certainly heavier than she expected, it wasn’t overbearing. Carmela took a look back, and her smile dwindled.

“Is that,” Carmela’s question faded out, her face twisting in disappointment and confusion. “Is that a saddle?”

“Er, uh,” Terrance mumbled, crossing his massive, hairy arms and looking away. “‘Fraid this one was meant for another feller, and we didn’t get the chance to get ridda that, um… feature.”

Carmela scowled at the leather seat placed directly in the center of her back. Once again, here she was, reduced to nothing more than a stupid horse. How many times would she have to suffer this injustice?

But as her thoughts returned to the events of the day, she began to reconsider. Was it really her place to decide how to serve the people? To serve Aynzerl? She had sworn to do more than smite the wicked, and today was an excellent example of that. As much as it hurt her warrior pride…

Carmela let out a bemused sigh and said, “No, it’s fine. I like it just the way it is.”

“Oh, well,” Terrance fumbled, a bit stunned the paladin took the news so surprisingly well, “A-At least let us give it all a good shinin' and sandin’.”

“We should also make it modular,” Philip spoke up.

“What?” both Carmela and Terrance asked, the paladin sounding curious while the blacksmith sounding exasperated.

“Uh, I mean,” the apprentice cleared his throat and tried again. “Make it so you can put it on without help by splitting it up into pieces you can individually put onto yourself, miss.”

“Ah ha ha,” Terrance feigned laughing, “you’ll have to excuse the boy, he’s got all these crazy-”

“Please do,” Carmela said with a smile at the young blacksmith. “And thank you, gentlemen.”

After removing the armor and saying their farewells, the two men slipped back into their shop. Carmela started making her way home. Passing by a few more buildings, she reached the stable which had been converted into her own private dwelling. With large double doors and a high roof, it was perfect for a centaur such as her. Pushing open one of the large doors, Carmela was greeted with a pleasant surprise.

The former horse stalls had been gutted and replaced with specially-crafted furniture. A roundtable was placed off to her right that was at the perfect height for her to lay down beside and use. By the table was a new bookcase, filled with various tomes and scrolls usually reserved for the library and guest quarters. Off to her left, her lackluster haypile had been replaced with an extra large bed frame. While the mattress looked like it was several old mattresses stitched together, the frame seemed sturdy enough to hold her heavy body. And at the bed’s foot was her trunk from the castle barracks. Seeing this unexpected gift overjoyed Carmela; she would have to thank Lord Wilhelm and the castle carpenters!

Still admiring the handiwork of the castle craftsmen, Carmela removed her armor and sword and placed them in her trunk. Now dressed in only her simple tunic and undergarments, she wandered over to the bookshelf and picked up one of the gray books and a candle. Lighting the candle with a match, the centaur took her light and reading material to the table and laid her horse body down beside it.

“What a day,” Carmela mused with a content smile. It was days like today that made her happy she had been made a Blade of Aynzerl. And she couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would bring.

The candlelight flickered in the stable for another few hours, but soon it went out like the rest of the house lights within Castle Wolfhill. And Carmela enjoyed her first night’s sleep on a real bed as a centaur.