The Price of Power

Having been offered a contract by the mysterious Instigator, Ornstein reflects upon his duty as a paladin, and questions his ability as an adventurer to fulfil his oath.
Ornstein wakes up shaking, his heart thumping as he sits up and hastily scans the confines of his dormitory. Another dream. He raises his right hand, it trembles as he clutches the contract firmly in his grasp. Thrice before the dark figure has come to him in his sleep; its whispering voice reverberated through his head with promises of wealth and power beyond comprehension. Ornstein remembered the tenants of his holy oath, the words had been ingrained into his very being:

"Kindle the Light. Through my acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, I will kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair.

''Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, I stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, I stand against the forces that would render it barren.''

Preserve the Light. If I allow the light to die in my own heart, I cannot hope to preserve it in the world.

''Be the Light. I will be the glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of my joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds."''

He glances towards his small pile of belongings heaped into the far corner of the barren room and snickers. It has been almost 2 years since the paladin swore his oath. "And what do I have to show for it? A dusty room in which to place my battered plate mail and a handful of gold?" the dazed dragonborn thinks to himself, as he emerges from his bed and stumbles downstairs into the empty tavern beneath the guildhall. It was the early hours of the morning, and the azure hue of the coming day was only now washing over the horizon and up into the deep night sky. Finding a stool at the end of the cramped bar, he unfurls the contract across the table and studies it once more. The waning light of the nearby lantern dances patterns onto the worn parchment.

"When will you destroy that thing?"

Ornstein glances over his shoulder to find Eadric leaning against a column only a few feat away; his arms folded as the aasimar's luminous white eyes pierce the dimly lit room. Ornstein stands. He pauses for moment before wearily responding;

"We swore oaths to protect those who cannot do so themselves, did we not? Yet what have we accomplished since arriving here? We struggle daily, only earning enough gold to satisfy even our most basic of needs. Every foe we defeat, every town we liberate; a new threat rises to take its place. Even our own comrades actively work against our goals. How are we meant to do good when we lack the power to affect change?"

Eadric lifts his brow, "You seek more power? You're sounding like the sorcerer."

The dragonborn snaps, "I seek a means to make a difference! This piece of parchment is all but a tool."

Eadric's tone hardens; "You saw what that creature, that  'Instigator', did. You saw the terror in the bartender's eyes as it approached. You would seek the assistance of something so vile? So, corrupted?" Ornstein knew that the aasimar's otherworldly eyes were fixated upon his own;

Ornstein relaxes back onto the bar table. He chuckles, "And what of your little poison? Do you even know what it was that gave that to you?"

Eadric pulls the small glass phial from his belt and studies it. The cloudy, yellow substance churned in on itself like a smouldering fire. "I have an idea" he replies. A subtle grin rises from the corner of the paladin's otherwise stoic face. "You can be sure to trust me that it will be the one that'll regret the deal." Eadric once more looks towards his fellow paladin. "I can trust that I will stay true to my oath. Can you say the same Ornstein, given your past?"

Ornstein turns back towards the contract laid out behind him, and stares blankly at the parchment as Eadric can be heard quietly leaving the room. The aasimar was right, and Ornstein knew it. To trust an entity so dark is to sacrifice one's free will, one's very being.

But the life of a paladin is a life of sacrifice, is it not?