A Conversation over Steel

Hethir got below deck as an argument seemed to be boiling over in the quarters the mercs had been given.
"Just for once Trace, would you relax, everything isn't about your holy crusade!"
"For me, it is! I don't know how many times I've explained this to you Garius, I cannot simply lay down my mantle when it is inconvenient for me, or for you! My 'holy crusade' as you so put it is what I am!"
A woman's voice broke in, "Gentlemen, please, you are giving me a headache. Garius, stop antagonizing Sir Trace, you know you will never convince him of anything, you aren't clever enough for it."
"Why you little..."
"Enough Garius! I know you do not share my faith, nor understand why I hold it, but I will not betray my god for the sake of your pocketbook and that is final."
"Yeah? And what about our lives? Huh? Does that matter to you! If we really did get drug in with pirates then you're either going to have to play along or end up in a quick trip to the bottom in all that fancy knight's armor you're so proud of."
"Garius, we don't know that they are pirates, in fact you have no proof of that at all, and Trace, please just promise me that you will not do anything rash before all three of us are willing to act? I for one do not wish to repeat what happened in Trahern."
The second voice--the knight--sighed with resignation, "very well Mary, I will wait for your lead, though my heart is troubled about this situation."
"As well you have reason to," Hethir muttered to himself. Michael must have spoken to only a few of the mercs, he would never have hired a knight knowingly. Well, the damage was now done, he would just have to do his best to contain it.
Without bothering to knock, Hethir toggled the clasp and thrust the door open. The three mercs jumped to their feet at his entrance. The one in patched leather and chain armor he guessed was Garius, and he held a notched but lethal-looking axe in his hand, already in position for a quick strike. The knight was almost painfully obvious--no, Michael definitely didn't see him. His hair was brown, and tied back behind his head in an intricate braid, and his plate armor gleamed even in the dim ship lights. He had been sitting with his back to the door, and had only managed a half turn, but he had dropped into a defensive stance, clearly ready to use his better armor to defend himself and his two companions. The woman, Mary, had reacted the least. She had only straightened in her chair rather than standing, but one hand had dropped to a pouch at her belt, and the other had been lifted in the first of a series of gestures. An arcanist, well that made things a little better, provided they could keep the knight from wanting to kill him.

The tense moment released after only a moment as Hethir spoke. "Excellent reactions, Michael seems to have chosen well--as usual."
Garius responded first, "You the cap' then?"
"I am Captain Hethir, Michael is my first mate."
The knight Trace had finished turning to look at Hethir, and Hethir swore he could feel the man's holy heckles rising.
"Sir Trace was it? Before you go and declare me an unholy beast that should be slain let me inform you that I am not in fact a demon; neither have I ever had dealings with them. Believe me, I've seen that look in your eyes more often than I care to recount, and we can do without the next step."
The knight blinked once in response, but that was the only answer he gave.
Hethir sighed, "I didn't hire you for piracy, or to muscle someone, I hired you because I'm going to need help protecting my ship and my own skin."
"Protect you from what?" Mary spoke up, "You seem to have a substantial crew, and unless I greatly miss my guess your first mate is no slouch."
"I honestly don't know yet." Hethir admitted, "I have been contacted by an underground criminal organization, they want me to fetch something for them. Frequently this is how I make my money, but this time it's different."
Hethir looked straight at the Knight, "they want a set of chalices from the church, specifically the Archbishop of Santure."
Trace looked like he was about to make an outburst of some kind, but Hethir cut him off, "I have no idea why they want these chalices, or what they are capable of that would make the church want to lock them away, but quite frankly I don't care."
"You would ask me to defend you from my own brethren while you make off with holy relics?! You dare..."
"No, holy man, I do not, and I am not. Whatever these relics are, I've no doubt they're better off locked in the church's vaults than in the hands of criminals, especially ones with access to magic of the sort we have seen them display."
Trace closed his mouth, but still eyed Hethir venomously. "No, I need your help because I have no intention whatsoever of following these criminals' demands, and that will not sit well with them."
Hethir paused for a moment and met their eyes, "What I need the three of you for, is to keep me alive long enough for me to figure out why 'D' wants these chalices. Because if they are as powerful as I'm beginning to suspect, I think the church--and everyone else--would want to know what he is up to."
Garius shrugged, "told you we weren't dealing with pirates." Trace sighed and relaxed back into his chair, "you were the one who suggested it in the first place, Garius, stop being tiresome."
Mary just shook her head.
"I can see that the three of you have been around each other a while," Hethir remarked with a smirk. Mary looked at him and shrugged, "sometimes we all wonder how that is."
"Captain."
The Knight stood and turned to face him. Hethir was surprised to find himself looking up at the man--it wasn't common to find someone taller than him.
"Yes, Sir Trace?"
"What are you? You say you are not a demon, but you carry their stench. Explain yourself."
"Most call us tieflings. Our heritage is certainly of the lower planes, but it is long removed. The fiendish powers leave enough of a mark on humans to reoccur many generations later. I was born this way. For a while I was cared for by the church. A priest in a tiny hamlet decided that I was not evil and worth caring for. A Knight came by when I was 12 and decided otherwise, killed the priest for association with me and then came for me next. I left and never looked back."
Hethir matched the knight's steely glance with a molten one of his own, "while you may doubt me by appearance, knight, I doubt you on actions taken against innocents by your entire order, innocents whose only crime was proximity to one whom the knights disliked. Fortunately for you, I refuse to lower myself to their standards, I will judge you personally, not for your association."
Hethir's long-buried anger suddenly surfaced in a boiling flash, "but make no mistake, Knight, attempt to harm me or my crew..." The chair he had been sitting on suddenly smashed into the deck, and shattered to splinters,"...and I will be very happy to see your corpse grace my deck."
Trace glanced from the ruined chair back to Hethir, but he had already walked away, unwilling to spend any more time in the knight's presence.
"Well Trace, you managed to restrain yourself, but barely it seems."
"I checked him Mary, he didn't seem to be an evil man, but I still do not trust him."
"And you're sure giving him plenty of reasons to trust you, I thought you knights were supposed to be diplomatic." Garius shook his head and stuck his axe back through his belt. "If even half what the Cap' said is true, he has equal reason to hate you as you have him; maybe even more."
Trace scowled, "such obvious lies should sway no one, a knight would never harm an innocent! Nor a child."
Mary looked up from her seat and met his eyes, "Trace, not all knights are as dedicated as you, and not all of them are immune to the corruption of power." He glared back at her for a moment, then his face softened. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, "I know, Mary, but I don't want to believe it. I don't believe so much could be changed."
Garius let out a heavy sigh and looked at Trace with something that almost resembled pity, "you're in for a lot of hard lessons lad, and I don't envy you their swallowing."