Before any of them could utter but a word, he spoke, in a gruff, steely tone that was unlike him. "If you're going to do this...do it right..." With this, he steadied himself, walking over to the bound cultist, an arm extending to fling aside the bottle of alcohol and let it shatter in the corner. It had served its purpose.
Slowly, he took the chair from nearby, and sunk into it, staring at the beaten, startled man. Realization crossed the cultist's face as Sir Peter began to once again speak. "I..do not want to hurt you. I just need to know the locations of your brethren, then this can be all over for you. I will make sure you are safe and cared for."
The cultist paused, as if seriously considering the paladin's words, before laughing, and spitting on the ground in front of him. "Hah! I know who you are. Sir -Peter- Fairgrave, kingdom breaker, runaway child, -father slayer-! You can't threaten me, I know what you are, your order, your -God- won't allow you to lay your hands on me, lest you fall, and be unable to save those you so endeavor to!" He cackled at this, seemingly assured in his safety.
The grizzled, brown haired man lowered his head, rubbing his hand across the stubble that covered his chin, a sigh emptying his chest like the bellows at a forge. "You..seem to be under a misconception about what I am, what I do. I am a Paladin. This much is correct. But as a Paladin, you don't fear falling...I look forward to it." Slowly, his head lifted, locking his piercing blue eyes on the cultist's shocked green ones.