Paladin: Dawn of a Champion

By David Alan Brown

Rosette was nearly finished with her college journalism degree when she was thrust into a series of events to stop a plot that threatened to destroy America as she knew it. While covering a protest in Washington D.C., a Christian crusader in shining armor appeared out of thin air to stop a deadly terrorist bombing. In her quest to find out more about this supernatural superhero from eighth century France dubbed by the public as the Paladin, this young budding Jewish reporter finds herself working as a member of his team. Her role as both public relations director and squire is augmented by a Muslim lawyer who works for a secret organization known only as the Guild. This unusual Christian, Jewish, and Muslim threesome work together to fight evil and introduce this new tunic-wearing vigilante to the modern world in “Paladin: Dawn of a Champion.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781794843936

David Alan Brown

An author of non-fiction, young adult fiction, stage plays and more, David Alan Brown earned his BFA in Film and Television, with a writing emphasis, from New York University. He has worked with young people in leadership and personal development for many years and travels as an inspirational speaker. His play Lily’s Blue will receive its World Premier at the Alleyway Theater (Buffalo, NY) in February, 2018. It was included in the Landing Theatre’s 2015 New American Voices Reading Series and was a semi-finalist in Kitchen Dog Theater’s 2014 New Works Festival. In 2009 The Manhattan Theatre Source chose It Is What It Is, a full length drama, for its Playground Development Series. His comedy shorts have been performed by The Actor’s Project of New York and Frogs With Fangs Comedy Troupe. He is the published author of two nonfiction books (The Self-Help Paradox and Answer The Call), and has also written a YA novel, numerous short stories and freelance journalism through American Media Distributors. He lives in Indianapolis with his wife and daughters.

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Paladin: Dawn of a Champion

Paladin: Dawn of a Champion

By David Alan Brown

from the Annals of Aldric the Anti-martyr as told by Rosette the Raconteur

Copyright © 2019 by David Alan Brown

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Holy Bible, which is in the public domain in the United States of America.

The Spanish work Don Quixote de la Mancha was published in two parts in 1605 and 1615 by Miguel de Cervantes, and a translation was published in 1885 by John Ormsby. Troilus and Criseyde by Geoffrey Chaucer was published in 1385. All are in the public domain.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/996

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Cover art Copyright © 2019 by David Alan Brown

The photographs used to create the front and back cover art were acquired from Wikimedia Commons and are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution License. Hence, the resulting images are also available on the author’s web site under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License. These images are free to share (copy, distribute, and transmit), and free to remix (adapt the work even for commercial use), as long as the authors are attributed without any suggestion that they endorse the resulting work.

Front Cover Image - Jorge Royan’s

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Back Cover Image - Walter’s Art Museum

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Visit the Author’s Website:

https://sites.google.com/site/theomegagambit

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1-79484-393-6

For my heirs,

Heroes are not only defined by their words but also by the conduct of their actions.

And whatsoever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father by him.

Colossians 3:17

Chapter One

Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Ephesians 6:10-12

My name is Rose, and at the time of this writing, my mentor and friend is on the island of Martinique in the French Caribbean enjoying a well-earned rest from his superhuman efforts to oppose the forces of evil in our time. To be precise, my full name is Rosette Hosanna Elbaz and I’m a senior student at Trinity Washington University finishing up a bachelor’s degree in Communications with minors in History, English, and French. After smoothing over the public relations nightmare he inadvertently created for himself in light of many recent events, my mentor has affectionately dubbed me Rosette the Raconteur, and I must confess that I had to look up the curious title. I learned that a raconteur is a person who is skilled at interestingly relating stories and anecdotes; I like that. Maybe the skill will help me land a job with a major television network at some point, although realistically I think I’ll have my hands full with Sir Aldric. But enough about me, because this is his story not mine. Sir Aldric, that’s my mentor’s name. Once more, to be precise and using his own words, his full appellation is: Sir Aldric Delacroix, Grand Duke of Carcassonne, and Paladin of the Twelve Peers of Charlemagne. This account is the first of a collection of stories about the Paladin. The Paladin…that’s what the public is now calling him, and he’s the first real superhero I’ve ever personally known.

I first encountered the Paladin at a political rally in Washington D.C. The protesters and anti-protesters had been assembling around the U.S. Capital building and on the National Mall for almost three days. I had my student press credentials and I was planning to cover this growing event as part of a senior project. The SCOTUS, Supreme Court of the United States, had just surprisingly upheld Michigan’s amendment to their state constitution requiring judges to consider any applicable international Sharia law when hearing all cases for Muslim defendants and plaintiffs. To the protesters, it was one thing to overturn Oklahoma’s so-called state constitutional ban on considering international and Islamic law, but it was beyond the pale for Michigan to require it. Of course, as always, there were also supporters who praised the ruling. In many ways, this morning was no different than any other morning in the last few decades; our nation remained divided as ever, right down the center.

I scanned the increasingly unruly scene while I also looked around for my best friend Max. Maxine Murphy was a fellow communications student who aspired to a career behind a news camera. The problem was that she was always behind, or to be politically incorrect she was habitually late, which is not a good trait for a would-be newscaster. While waiting, I took the opportunity to jot down some notes about the conversations taking place around me between the vocal protesters and agitators.

A beefy bald biker-type, tattooed from wrist to neck, wearing a leather vest and holding an American flag slung over his shoulder hollered, Separation of church and state!

Next to him was a woman who I must assume was his girl with the word K-i-t-t-y sewn on the back of her jean-jacket. She piped in, One-A! How much clearer can it be?! Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion! To my surprise, she’d quoted the amendment perfectly.

A green-hooded middle-eastern man across the street waving a black flag with white Arabic letters shouted back, First Michigan, then the whole nation, and then the world!

Two of his three comrades who held signs provided by CAIR (Council on American-Islamic Relations) yelled, Aljhad fi asm Allah! I looked this up later; it means Struggle in God’s name. I also found out that CAIR had been recently removed as a designated terrorist group by the US government, while at the same time I learned that the NRA (National Rifle Association) was still on their list.

Oddly, I noticed an atheist group with a placard reading, There is no God, on the same side of the street as both the libertarian bikers and an assembly of patriotic Christians who held up their own sign reading, Allah is Satan, and Mohammed is his false prophet! Atheists stood together with Evangelicals, but even more ironic, I realized the Muslim jihadists were on the same side of the street as the socialists and rainbow-flag-flying gender-fluid. Political ideology, much like war, makes truly strange bedfellows.

More words were exchanged; I couldn’t possibly capture them all, or tell exactly from which side they originated, but here are just a few of the choice ones:

Traitors!

Biggots! Racists!

Hang ‘em all!

Devils!

Hypocrites!

Allahu Akbar!

Impeach the liberal judges!

Power to the people!

No! Power of the people, by the people, and for the people!

Go to hell!

Commie queers!

Nazi scum!

Shouting that last curse, a progressive waving a Soviet flag suddenly decided to rush across the street towards the biker gang. Kitty’s boyfriend met him halfway and used his American flag as a quarterstaff to block the anti-fascist’s charge. Once the opposing flags were crossed, people on both sides began to join in the scuffle. I looked around one more time for Maxine and thought, ‘Why couldn’t she ever be on time? She’s missing all this great footage!’

One of the jihadists crossed over and grabbed ahold of Kitty; that’s when it really got ugly. He pulled her by her blonde ponytail and she screamed for help. The bald biker shoved the Marxist he was fighting to his knees and swung his flagpole around connecting the back of the migrant’s head with a loud crack. Blood spattered across Kitty’s face and sprinkled across the flag and upon the street where the Islamist fell, dazed and semi-conscious.

Homeland Security officers were marching in a wedge down the middle of the street and began to divide the combatants by pushing them with their transparent riot shields to the left and to the right. When they reached Kitty’s boyfriend, that’s when it really got strange. Still, Max was nowhere to be seen!

Out of nowhere a shimmering figure appeared at the vertex of the police shield formation. The bald biker had to step back from the anomaly which was similar to an old science-fiction transporter beam effect. When it was finished, standing there opposed to the police was a knight champion in shining armor.

Later reports and some eyewitnesses would claim to have seen this costumed crusader earlier in the day, and rather than a magical displacement, the official explanation would be that sunlight reflecting from his silver armor caused the strange effect that people witnessed. I, however, know the real truth.

The knight was dressed in polished plate mail from head to toe, which consisted of a chain hauberk shirt under a solid metal cuirass, and over the top of it all he wore a long white tunic with a red cross emblazoned across the front. A large whitewashed heater shield shaped like a clothes iron and decorated with a blue cross was strapped to his left arm. A huge mace dangled from his belt, and in his right hand he held what looked like a thick gem-encrusted golden neck-chain with a dazzling jeweled pendant. The only flaw in his appearance was what appeared to be a mixture of blood spatter and mud on his right gauntlet and across his tunic. The Paladin was frozen as if he was stunned from his sudden arrival. It was impossible to tell what he was focused upon with his visor down, but it seemed as if he was intently fixated on the jewelry that he clenched in his steel-clad hand.

The policeman at the point of the wedge immediately saw this armored man as a threat and shifted his shield to swat at him with his riot baton. There were two clinks as the plate armor effortlessly deflected the attacks.

The crusader remained motionless. It was as if he didn’t even notice the blows. Realizing the uselessness of his baton, the police officer stuck it in his belt and drew his standard issue 9mm semi-automatic pistol. He pointed it at the knight’s chest with his finger in the trigger guard.

On the ground, citizen! the officer ordered as the crowd around him dispersed. Both the biker and the Marxist, who had regained his feet, dropped their flags and backed away with their hands in the air to avoid arrest. The wounded jihadist crawled back across the pavement to his comrades.

Still, the Paladin was unmoved.

Last warning, man! Hands up and get down on the ground! Clasp your…your…clasp your gauntlets behind your head! the policeman stuttered revealing his trepidation.

I started recording with my cell phone, and moved closer to see if the knight might speak. He didn’t, and the frazzled officer actually fired! Two shots rang out tearing two small holes in the knight’s tunic, but bouncing harmlessly off his breastplate. One of the bullets ricocheted back at the officer and hit his shield before tumbling to the street.

What the hell? The officer was even more confused than before. He knew, as well as I did, there was no way that medieval armor would stop a modern full metal jacket round at point-blank range.

In a panic, he fired again, unloading his magazine. Bullets flew everywhere and that is when the Paladin was forced to make a move. He tossed the necklace as if it meant nothing to him and unclipped the heavy steel mace from his waist. The weapon’s handle was wrapped in leather and it had a gleaming silver handle with a head that was tipped with a spike and three flanges for greater armor penetration.

The next instant his truncheon was pummeling the shields of the officers at the point of the wedge. He grunted as the police officers’ shields were either knocked away or literally shattered. It was a walk in the park for the Paladin to push through the police line and he shrugged off additional gunfire to cross the street. When he entered the crowd on the other side, the gun shots halted, and the throng gave him plenty of room. He marched with determination towards the CAIR anti-protesters.

When he reached them, two of them dropped their signs and retreated deeper