PALMER

"Shield not your eyes from the light."

Palmer is an intelligence-based Support hero of the Lightbearer faction. He grants buff attributes to allied heroes that stack up as battle time elapses.

Many years later, when Palmer was ordained as cardinal, he'd recall that distant afternoon when he was 17 and had hastily fled the ball.Those were Ranhorn's golden years, as the Maulers were locked in unending civil war, the Empire was peaceful and prosperous, and the nobility was intoxicated with outdoing one another in their beautiful clothes, fine wines, and lavish banquets. On this particular day there is yet another charitable ball, attended by all of society's celebrities.

Palmer, Earl Paggory's young son, stood in a corner clutching his goblet. He had no interest in the ball, but was waiting expectantly for the nobles to shout in alarm. He had been the butt of one of the Lanward brood's jokes on a recent hunt, and had naturally desired revenge. That's why he had just slipped a few drops of a strange potion into the goblet of the offending Lannward, and was thus awaiting the reaction: uncontrollable vomiting, sure to be absolutely mortifying.

"Urgh…"

Splendid. It seemed like everyone around him was suitably disgusted.

"What's this? Quick, someone send for a doctor. Guards! GUARDS!"

Whatever, the doctor would only think that the imbecile had eaten something bad.

"Bishop?! Please, wake up, your Lordship!"

Drat and damnation, how had the goblet ended up in Bishop Giovanni's hand? The old boy was hardly a spring chicken, and had been gravely sick just past year…No, it was just a harmless little prank, the bishop will be just fine…Plus, that Rustport merchant promised it wouldn't really hurt anyone…

Fear gripped Palmer, who quietly squeezed through the anxious crowd and slipped away from the ball.

News of the attempt on Bishop Giovanni's life, and his accompanying sickness, spread like wildfire through the capital's outraged residents. Palmer was terrified, and shut himself away at home. He heard from his busy brother that at least a dozen cooks and attendants who had been working the day of the ball had been arrested, and were being interrogated.

Several days later, Palmer heard that the guards had ultimately decided that one of the servants, recently scolded by the ball's host, had both the motive and the opportunity to ruin the ball, and had thus arrested the poor fellow. Hearing this, Palmer was unable to sit still. He could allow himself to get away with it, but could not allow another to suffer what was rightfully his own punishment. So it was that he hurried to the guardhouse, determined to hand himself in.

The captain of the guard listened patiently to Palmer's story then, after a momentary silence, left the room. Palmer sat there, alone and nervous, fully expecting to be escorted off to a cell. He didn't expect, however, for the door to open and his father's furious visage to appear. The guard captain, face plastered in a fawning smirk, motioned for Palmer to follow his father home.

Palmer refused to let it go. He gritted his teeth before suddenly bellowing in the midst of the guardhouse- and at least ten people were definitely within earshot- confessing his guilt surrounding the poisoning. Earl Paggory's face was livid, and the captain was so embarrassed that, after sneaking a glance at the earl, he forthwith ordered Palmer to be arrested and thrown in jail.

During this month-long incarceration, Palmer was not allowed to see anyone, but could only sit and wait for judgement to be passed. He gleaned a few bits and pieces from his jailer: the wrongly accused servant had been freed; Earl Paggory had paid a hefty sum in compensation, and in hope that the aggrieved party would forgive him. Definitely, his father was still trying to make amends on his behalf, even going so far as to sell off several of the family's properties in order to build a brand new cathedral in the hope that his absurd son might be spared excommunication. He also heard, with relief, that Bishop Giovanni had regained consciousness several days ago, and was slowly recovering.

It was only now that Palmer realized quite how much trouble he had caused. He was anxious day and night, not knowing quite what his punishment was to be. But then, one quiet evening, his jailer suddenly wanked at him while opening his cell door.

"Go on, hop it. The earl's arranged things for you."

Palmer was momentarily stunned but then, just as his legs were about to unconsciously carry him from the cell, he couldn't help but ask the guard: "What about you?"

It was the jailer's turn to be stunned, before mumbling: "The earl gave me some coin…Probably a flogging for me…"

"No! I've already hurt too many people, I won't allow you to be hurt too." And with that, Palmer hurried back inside his cell and sat down.

The jailer seemed a little nonplussed, and just left quietly without even locking the door. Palmer stood up hesitantly, but then suddenly spied Bishop Giovanni in a wheelchair, being pushed into the prison by his own father.

"Your father spoke true. You are not a bad child." The bishop said softly as he looked at Palmer, before turning to Earl Paggory, who had been beseeching him for days, "The Light will guide your son back."

The earl bowed and left, leaving Palmer and Bishop Giovanni looking at one another.

Palmer knelt in silence by the bishop's knee, unable to find any words.

The bishop stroked the crown of Palmer's head, and at the touch Palmer felt warmth flowing into his skull, caused his tense and frayed nerves to finally relax. Then, with sacred light filling the tiny cell, the bishop asked, gentle as if he was sitting in his garden having tea: "My poor boy…Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

For the first time in two months, Palmer had the chance to speak from the heart. He spoke of his regrets and his fears, of his apologies to those who had suffered, of the shame he had brought upon his family. He spoke too, of his concern that House Paggory had lost its honor, and of the foolish struggle between himself and the young master of House Lanward. They had both thought that those who followed the rules were idiots, while those who transgressed were brave, but they had never stopped to consider that the rules were there to protect everyone.

Bathed in sacred light, Palmer covered his face in shame, but Bishop Giovanni gently told him to raised his head.

"Cover not thine eyes, but follow the light."

Palmer looked up to see the bishop hand him an old but exquisite copy of church scripture. He took it in silence and looked down, but found the words so strange and incomprehensible that he had to read them multiple times. Finally, embarrassed, he looked up inquiringly.

Only then did he notice that the bishop had left the cell. Only the light remained, shining on Palmer for a long time.

Palmer was eventually sentenced to expulsion from Ranhorn. Bishop Giovanni himself testified at his trial, asserting that he knew now the error of his ways, and how best to live a good life.

Palmer did not return to Ranhorn until a full decade later, when Bishop Giovanni had passed away. By that time Palmer was already a member of the clergy, and he stood for a long time before the bishop's grave. He wanted to tell him how much he had learned from the scripture, and how he had been guided by the light for all those years. A gentle breeze blew through the lush green grass of the cemetery, while light fell upon Palmer's shoulders as if in response. And so it was that Ranhorn once more accepted this calm young man, who had found his way back after straying from the path.

And the scripture, which Bishop Giovanni had given to him, remained by his side for the rest of Palmer's life.