The Paladin and the Clogged Grate

My office, my beautiful sanctuary of sloth, was no longer my own. A foreign presence had invaded, and it smelled of piety and lemon-scented armor polish.

I was at my desk, attempting to achieve a state of meditative nirvana by staring blankly at a wall, but it was impossible. Across the room, Sir Justus, Paladin of Justice, was a beacon of unbearable virtue. He wasn't doing anything disruptive. In fact, he was just sitting on the plush velvet sofa, ramrod straight, silently polishing his already immaculate gauntlets with a small, soft cloth. The rhythmic, squeaking sound of his righteousness was driving me insane.

The air, which once hung thick and comfortable with the scent of old paper and neglect, was now charged with his palpable aura of justice. It was like trying to nap in the middle of a church service while the choir was hitting the high notes.

“Hey, Tin Can,” I said, breaking the silence. “Want a fried squid leg? I’ve got one left over from yesterday. Or the day before. The exact timeline is a bit hazy.”

Sir Justus paused his polishing. He turned his head, his handsome face a mask of serene sincerity. “Thank you for the offer, Sir Hero,” he said, his voice a low, resonant baritone. “But my body is a temple, consecrated to the service of justice. I shall not defile it with sustenance of unknown origin or questionable vintage.”

“Your loss,” I muttered, tossing the rubbery tentacle into the waste bin. “More for me next time.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, grabbing my coat. “Duty calls,” I announced to the room. “Edgar! We’ve got a sanitation emergency on the eastern boulevard.”

Edgar, who had been hiding at his own small desk pretending to be invisible, immediately jumped to his feet. “Yes, sir! The magically-infused refuse clog at the intersection of—”

“Yeah, that one,” I cut him off. I strode out of the office without a backward glance. The plan was simple: walk really fast and hope the guy in fifty pounds of metal couldn’t keep up.

It was a stupid plan.

I walked. He followed. His armored boot steps were a steady, rhythmic clang, clang, clang on the cobblestones behind me, a personal, portable parade of doom. I tried to lose him. I abruptly ducked into The Jade Pagoda Tea House, ordered a drink, and chugged it. By the time I turned around, he was standing silently by the door. I bolted out the back, cut through a crowded fish market, and vaulted over a cart of cabbages. When I paused for breath, leaning against a wall two streets over, I heard it. Clang, clang, clang. He was right there. He wasn’t even out of breath.

Finally, I gave up and trudged to the site of our so-called emergency. It was a storm grate on a busy street corner. From it emanated a foul odor and a faint, greasy green light. The iron bars were warped, and a thick, slimy mass of something unspeakable pulsed with a weak magical energy. It was the congealed, bubbling regrets of a failed back-alley alchemy experiment.

“And this, Edgar,” I began, projecting my voice for my one-man-and-one-paladin audience, “is our battlefield.” A pretty maiden selling flowers on the corner looked over, intrigued. “A truly heroic task is not found in the slaying of a great beast, but in the thankless conquest of the mundane! For what is a dragon but a large lizard with a bad attitude? This… this is a threat to public infrastructure!”

The flower maiden giggled. I immediately abandoned my monologue and sidled over to her. Justus’s shadow fell over us both.

“My dear,” I said, giving her a charming grin. “You are the most radiant blossom in this entire city. Surely a hero on a perilous quest, such as myself, is deserving of a small discount?”

“Only for a true hero, sir,” she said, her eyes flicking nervously to the silent, gleaming statue of judgment standing behind me. Justus’s aura was so intense it was practically wilting her petunias.

“Well, it just so happens I have a magical hand that purifies everything it touches,” I winked at her. Then, without looking back, I nonchalantly waved that hand in the general direction of the grate.

A flicker of golden aura, no bigger than a firefly, shot from my fingertips. The slimy, glowing, magical clog instantly sizzled, shriveled, and dissolved into a puff of clean-smelling dust, leaving the grate sparkling like new. The foul odor vanished, replaced by the scent of fresh rain.

The flower maiden gasped. The small crowd that had gathered murmured in awe. Edgar scribbled furiously on his clipboard. I just shrugged, bought a slightly-discounted rose, and strolled away. Behind me, I heard the relentless clang, clang, clang of my new life partner.

Later, inside a bustling tavern called The Laughing Ogre Inn, I was tearing into a massive platter of fried chicken skewers. The ale was cold, the chicken was hot, and for a few blissful moments, I could almost forget the walking suit of armor sitting opposite me.

Almost.

Sir Justus hadn’t touched the plate of food the confused waitress had placed before him. He just sat there, nursing a single glass of water, his posture perfect, his gaze fixed on some distant, heroic horizon. He was a monument to everything I stood against: discipline, self-control, and not enjoying a good meal.

Finally, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I walked back toward the castle grounds. He was still there. I stopped, sighed, and finally turned around to face him.

“Okay, look,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. “How long are you going to follow me around like a lost puppy made of righteousness?”

“I have dedicated my life to fight alongside you, Hero Okina Sukebe,” Justus said, his voice firm and unwavering, as if he were reciting a sacred text.

I threw my hands up in the air. “Fight what? A clogged drain? The forces of poor ventilation? Aren’t you an envoy? Don’t you have to go back to the Holy Kingdom and report to your Pope or whatever?”

“I am an ambassador,” Justus corrected me simply.

“Exactly! An ambassador! So go ambassad-somewhere else!” I pleaded.

“A special ambassador,” he clarified, his expression unchanging. “With the sacred task of observing and assisting the Hero of Lysvalde. It is a private posting, a holy mission assigned to me, and me alone. My post is by your side. Indefinitely.”

The word hit me like a physical blow. Indefinitely.

I didn’t even respond. I just turned and sprinted towards the castle, a man possessed by pure, unadulterated despair. I found Marie in the courtyard, calmly sipping tea as she watched the sunset. I skidded to a halt before her and fell to my knees in a dramatic plea.

“Marie! Princess! Your Highness!” I wailed, clutching the hem of her dress. “You have to help me! This guy… this pain-in-the-ass side character of justice… he’s my stalker! He’s ruining my life! My beautiful, lazy, ambition-free life is over! Send him home! Deport him! Please!”

Marie looked from my pathetic, kneeling form to Sir Justus, who had come to a respectful stop a few yards away and now stood stoically, like a lawn ornament of pure chivalry. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, her eyes sparkling with a familiar, cruel amusement.

“My poor hero,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy that did nothing to hide the laugh bubbling just beneath the surface. “What a terrible predicament. Please, you must tell me all about it. Over another cup of tea.” She failed miserably to hide her giggle. She had no intention of helping me.

The next morning, I woke with a rare sense of hope. The nightmare had to be over. Maybe he’d gotten a new assignment. Maybe he’d realized I was a lost cause. Maybe he’d just rusted in the morning dew.

I strolled through the palace halls, whistling. I was getting my office back. My sanctuary.

I arrived at the Department building, rounded the corner to my hallway, and my smile froze. My whistling died in a pathetic little wheeze. My office door, which had once borne a simple, humble plaque, was now adorned with a new sign. It was bigger. Much bigger. It was made of polished mahogany with inlaid gold lettering. And it had two names on it.

Okina Sukebe 

Hero of The Lysvalde Kingdom & Kingdom Hygiene Inspector

&

Sir Justus 

Paladin of Justice, Special Ambassador (Heroic Affairs) from The Holy Kingdom of Nazareth

The words stared back at me, solid and gleaming, a testament to my new, unavoidable, and very crowded fate. I let out a long, pathetic groan that echoed through the quiet hallway. It was the sound of a lazy man’s soul admitting defeat.