Alcander; Days 14 and 15

Day 14

I am troubled.

Until this moment, the life of a Paladin has been a simple one. The path of Heracles seemed clear.

Now I am  not so sure.

It began with those damn goblins. We defeated them, and that was undoubtedly good. They fought well, but we fought better. A glorious battle, and a simple one.

The wounded were the problem.

The goblins fled, leaving their dying behind. I left the wounded out for the goblins to retrieve, if they so desired. They might live, they might die. It was to be the will of the gods.

The will of Prudence was that they die. Markus believed we should bandage them, heal them, and send them on their way. Prudence said that the dead goblins would return from the grave, and that we should burn them before they did.

We burned their dead. I did not like it. I would have preferred to let the goblins bury their own dead, but none agreed with me.

As for the wounded, Prudence swore that wolves would eat them slowly, prolonging their suffering. This I can accept. Heracles himself begged for release at the end of his days, and found it in the arms of Philoctetes, our founder. 

But by the same token, beasts are often the agents of the gods. Romulus and Remus were spared by a she-wolf, and nursed back to health.

We should have let the wolves decide. Perhaps this time we might not end up with a vast empire of damned monotheists from the deal.

The wolves expressed their displeasure. They ate the wounded Markus had saved, thereby passing their judgement, and then came to torment us. What does this sign mean? I can only think that the wolves would rather we have killed them, and that if they are to pass judgement, they will pass it on us. Or perhaps they are angry that we passed judgement in their stead. I cannot say.

Still, I cannot help but feel that we should have left the fallen for their kin.

Day 15

Heracles give me strength.

This mine is a cursed place. There is no doubt in my mind. Dread creatures lurk about, things leap from the shadows and vanish again, men wall themselves up and wait to die.

This place drives men mad.

Of all the flaws of Heracles, this is the one we must avoid most strongly. Madness must never take us, lest we use his powers badly. Madness was ever Heracles's foe, and must ever be ours.

But the dwarf, the dwarf had that curse.

I knew, as soon as I saw him. His soul was gone. His mind was gone. What was left was only a shell, a feeble, grasping attempt to hang on to this world.

In this, at least, I knew where mercy lay.

I struck him dead. It had to be done. He had gone to where no cleric could find him, no magic could heal him. 

Gone to where I lost my mother.

May Zeus have mercy on his soul, and may his soul find rest at last.

This place is cursed, and I don't know whether to flee it or stay until I see it destroyed.

It must be destroyed, but at what risk?