Sol'arah's briefing

"It's about Vauslein Manor, Healers", he said in a harsh, tired tone of voice.

Sol'arah frowned slightly. She knew just what her superior put in those words. She softly caressed the lining on her tabard, trying not to express how displeased she was as her keen eyes followed the Battle-Chaplain's steps. Aged as he was he was still quite agile. She admired her elders. Not because of what they were now, but because they'd been able to stay on the Chaplain path for so many years, watching people get killed, seeing how their injuries worked out, losing someone to an incurable sickness... She let out a silent sigh.

"Is there a problem, Healer Mizelle-Jana?" the Battle-Chaplain cut in, giving her a look that clearly stated he was just as displeased with this situation as she was.

"None, sir." she said with a bow of the head. She didn't dare look up until she heard him turn around to face the other Healers again.
"Healers, I need you all to listen to me, this is quite vital information. I will have no interference...", at this point he turned his head and sent Sol'arah a deadly look, "... seeing as many of you could be lost in the process of this mission. The Order of the Holy Flame may be superior in number, but we will face hardship when it comes to re-stocking supplies. So make sure you have everything you need with you. We will not let those "shinies" win this one! Also there have been reports of N.O.R.D.'s in the area, so make sure you're ready to encounter anything". As he finished he drew a long, shivering breath, and the Healers looked to each other, the same question written in everyone's eyes: I thought we were vast in numbers? Then why is one of the leaders of the Flame itself this shocked?

Sol'arah shook her head just slightly, her eyes fixated upon the big shield placed on the wall behind the Battle-Chaplain's seat. It wore the challace embraced by flames, the Order of the Holy Flame's trademark... This wasn't the end, she was sure of it. Their order would triumph.

Looking around the meeting-room it was as if though she relived all of the years she'd spent in the order, all of the times she'd been briefed in this exact same room. She saw how the beautiful yellow curtains flaunted, and remembered it had always been so. She inspected the beautiful, exquisitely cut furniture, finding no scratches whatsoever, quite remarkable what with the swords most of the order favored. She looked at the grand table, at which more than twenty Healers were seated. All in her battalion. She knew all of the faces, there were no new-comers among them. These were the people she had worked with for more than 20 archonic years, making it 4 human ones. Soon she'd be around the 100 years herself, which made her one of the youngest members of the battalion. Most of the archons within the order had reached their prime of 250-300 years, while most humans within the order were around the 25-40 years. She stretched out carefully, trying not to make her plate creak. She succeeded in doing so and received a shoulder-pat from the Healer next to her.

"That was all for tonight, Healers. You're being shipped tomorrow, so make sure to check your armour and items for anything they might need or lack. And get a good night's sleep, that's not a suggestion", as the Battle-Chaplain finished the big doors in the back of the room was opened and the Healers walked quietly out, into the setting sun. Some of them sat down, others started meditating, some just went straight to their quarters within the main building. But Sol'arah stayed behind, watching the golden glimpses at a distance. She turned to face the old archon in front of her.

"Sir, if I may?" she spoke slowly, obediently awaiting an answer. A nod. That was sufficient for her. "... I was wondering... What are we being sent for, exactly? They have plenty of troops stationed already... With all due respect, sir, I fail to see what good we'll..." that's how far she went before the archon raised his fist in the air, asking for silence. She stopped. "Healer Mizelle-Jana... Sol", he started, giving her one of his tired looks again as she herself stirred uneasily. He'd gone with her nickname this time. That was -not- good. "... you're being sent because you're needed, and you need ask no further questions regarding this. However, I can tell you this...", at this point he leaned in to put his old, wrinkled hand on her shoulder, his wise, gray-silvery eyes staring into hers, "... it'll be the hardest battle I have yet sent you and your battalion to aid. You might have to bend your own moral code this time. You might have to kill someone".

His words were well-placed. She nodded slowly, swallowed something and said "Yes, sir. Duly noted. A good night to you, sir", and then turned around to face the open doors, walking towards the setting sun slowly.

Back stood the ancient archon, smiling ever so slightly as his niece walked towards her destiny.