For Elimine's Light [Riva/Remus]

[Riva Harel]

So far, the beginning of the campaign against Ilia had gone swimmingly, only minor issues that could be quickly resolved arising within their ranks. The first two towns the troops had passed through were now securely under Etruria’s control, and they had nearly finished with ensuring a smooth occupation of the third on their list.

Riva had not been with the men who took the first two towns, having stayed behind to attend to her own battalion, readying the volunteers who had taken upon themselves to remain in the third town, a small village called Mournstead. There were barely over a few hundred in the area, but the town served as a pass-through point for Ilian goods going to Remi that needed to be plugged, contained. So they’d enacted the plan just as the officers discussed, and put their mens’ boots to the ground to take the town with little issue.

With her men handling “reorienting” the town’s guard, Riva had taken it to herself to walk through the town to the town square, taking stock of their men and how everything was progressing. Some of their healers had come with, including the man, Remus, who had been in the officer’s meeting in place of the absent lead healer. Two of the other battalions had sent a few of their men as scouts, but by and large the Etrurian soldiers in the town were hers. Even Officer Urban had come along for the occupation, though he was standing guard with the healers, who had set up in the town square.

[Remus]

Remus hadn't originally planned to be in the town it's self for long. Mournstead was a small enough place that he'd assumed they wouldn't need much or spend much time on it. That was before he'd taken a stroll through the town to see how it fared. He knew that small communities were often closer in bond, but their disgruntled nature towards the Etrurian occupation was more than obvious. Was that why? Out of some sword of priestly instinct? Perhaps it was. While the town slept, Remus had worked on setting up a small location at the center of the town. Two large rectangular open faced tents, and a "pavilion" supported by thin metal poles and a large tent like roof. He wasn't the only one there, albeit. Soldiers are been present to protect the blue haired priest and the other healers that accompanied them as they set up this small operational outpost.

The priest had instructed for all wounded, Etrurian or otherwise, to be brought to them. The people had to see that they weren't all Evil. Unfortunately...not all of the Etrurian soldiers had taken kindly to this. Namely, the overly zealous soldiers of High Officer Hawthorne. For some reason, Remus couldn't bring himself to be surprised in the slightest that the man's soldiers were as violent and savage as the bear of a man came off as. He ignored them though, knowing that his job as a healer took greater importance. That wouldn't stop conflict from arising however...


-

It was almost noon, and the shaggy blue haired priest was walking around the side of a wounded man, with his lapis shaded robe sleeves rolled up. There were traces of red along his hands, that smelled heavily of metal. Dry blood. As Remus knelt near the man, another healer moved to his side and slowly lowered to apply pressure to the man's lower stomach. The cleric and Remus had been alternating who would hold the man's wound, and who would heal him as to prevent growing overly tired. That, and neither of them had the capacity to out-right heal such a severe wound. They had to work away at it, healing him in segments and mending it in rounds as if whittling away. The man groaned in pain, but Remus smiled warmly to him while he lifted his staff and spoke in a kind heartfelt tone.

"I know it hurts. It will be mended soon, just think of happy thoughts kind sir. Your family perhaps, or a loved one?"

The cleric took the man's left hand in her other one, using one hand to maintain pressure on the wound that was stained with fresh warm blood. Remus lifted his staff a bit higher, until the gemstone was eye level with him. He let his prayer become the singular thought resonating in his mind. The prayer, that he could borrow from Elimine's vast kindness and aptitude as a healer to heal this wounded man. The light blue warmth of magic that blossomed outwards slowly started to pulse. Initially a sphere of light, it moved as if sentient before locating around the wounded man. The globe of magic condensed its self until it became small enough to barely cover the wound. Flesh and wounded tissue started to mend together further than they had prior. This time, he was able to seal up the wound. He could see the man's grip on the cleric's hand become more slack as pain steadily eased away.

This wounded man would not only live, but in perhaps a single more session be able to walk away, and recover fully on his own with a day's rest or so. Remus smiled with a nod to the Cleric, knowing that she could handle the final bout of it. Remus looked to the four wounded men laying beneath the tent. Three Ilians. One Etrurian. A scuffle he'd been present to see. The Etrurian was a soldier. One of Hawthorne's no less. He'd been speaking of how lucky the town was, that they were spared Etruria's might. The three men had suffered him for only so long before attempting to assault him. Provocation aside, they were not armed, or armored. The Etrurian was.Remus took an amber shaded towel and lifted it to clean off his hands. As he did so, he heard the distinct sounds of armored foot-steps.

He turned as the tent-flaps were thrust open to see two more soldiers standing before him. Though he greeted them with a warm smile, in the back of his mind he scowled. They were here no doubt, to retrieve their wounded comrade. Which made them more of Hawthorne's men. This was confirmed when one looked from the priest who was cleaning his bloodied hands, to the ilian commoners laying on the white blankets.

"What in the prophet's name are you doing? You damn fool! Your healing the enemy!"

Remus gazed to the wounded people, before letting his smile fade somewhat. The friendly tone did not leave his voice however; an aspect he believed himself incapable of losing. He gestured to the wounded people as he did so. "These people are not enemies. They are those we intend to occupy, no? Then as their hosts, we must do that which we can to assist them."

The man stepped closer to the priest now. He was taller, and armored...and armed. A distinct advantage. However the priest had always been blessed with an inability to recognize his own danger.

"Their heathen bastards that are only good when receiving our judgment!"

Now, that particular wording, struck a small nerve within the second in command of the healing unit. As a religious man, Remus felt a bit of indignation take him. He didn't convey it however, simply continued to let the friendly smile linger on his lips as he lifted his hand to gesture towards the soldiers. "Perhaps you forget yourself..kind sir? You are not one to cast judgment. You have not the authority to do such. Lest you forget yourself further, allow me to remind you, yes?" A dangerous choice of words brought the man snarling and approaching the priest until they were close enough that he could have easily attempted to strike the healer down. Remus knew that the officers assigned with guarding the healers were but a tent over. He did not worry though, despite this. "We can but strive to better this world, sir. That is our only true obligation, as men of faith. Aid others, when they can not aid themselves. Protect others, when they can not protect themselves. Mend that which they have not the power to heal. That is what Elimine truly desires, and at it's core the only true calling for any man should be to better others as much as himself."

The man spit at the ground in contempt for the priest before pointing his spear towards the wounded Ilians. "Maybe your forgetting, in your little frilly world of light and joy. We're in a damn war! That makes them the enemy, and us the righteous. We are here to fight for the prophet's glory and bring about his divine goals!"

Another note struck poorly. This time, the priest felt his smile fade. Perhaps a small trigger had been flipped. It certainly felt like it. Though he raised his voice only slightly, he walked towards the soldier. Knowing however, that he could not harm one of their priests; the man had no choice but to back up as Remus walked forwards. Each step further forced the man to back up, as the priest spoke to him with irritation infecting his tone; standing now in the center of town still but directly outside the tent. "You, forget yourself...sir. It is not a divine plan of the prophets. Do you forget who he is a prophet of? Do you dare place another higher than Elimine? The saint our very foundation is built from? Should it be, that we inform the higher members of the church of this? That you stand here, a mortal man, and speak outwardsly of someone greater than Elimine? Tell me. When you, a common soldier, stand in the presence of say..Bishop Revel, or even a Patriarch while they judge you for Heresy against the Eliminian faith. Will you say it's because you saw a priest heal someone? "

Even as the soldier began to show visible regret for his words, no doubt imagining what the gravity could be for such situations and his fears immediately jumping to worst-case scenarios, Remus felt guilt eat at him. His sister had warned him before leaving, that Remus would have to act the role of a wolf, even though he was but a sheep. Quite the opposite of his norm. However he could not afford for this soldier to impede on his work any further; and a guilty pleasure that made him feel even more remorseful was the satisfaction of putting one of the zealous in their place. Technically..Remus wasn't incorrect in what he "accused" of the man. However it was obviously a dramatic way to go about it. In actuality no one as high ranking within the church as a Bishop or even less likely a Patriarch would care much about a common soldier calling the prophet "divine". Over half of Etruria believed he was anyway.

The soldier's fumbling half-apology was enough, and as Remus stepped aside to allow them to take their comrade and depart for where ever their ilk was stationed, the priest rested his weight against his staff. The weariness of healing three individuals continuously for the past few hours was starting to ebb away at him. After-all. All three men had almost been killed. It was no easy task keeping them alive, let alone healing them. Beads of sweat traced down his temples as he shook his head of the fatigue and gazed around. Today was already starting out as such a great day. Fantastic..

[Riva Harel]

“Any updates, Officer Urban?”

Riva had made her way to the healers’ tent on her walk through the village, taking stock of the progression of the final stages of their occupation. It wouldn’t take long for the troops to finish up their tasks and report back to their assigned stations, at which time they’d parse down to the small squad that would be remaining. Then the rest of the battalion would be on their way to the next town, and one step closer to the assaults on Ft. Modlin and, ultimately, Remi.

Urban gave a professional nod as he addressed Riva; not their typical one-on-one interaction, but considering they were out in the open with onlookers both from their battalion and the village, it would have been unbecoming to address one another in any other fashion. “Well, Ma’am, they estimated another three or so hours before they could reduce down to the staff staying behind in the town, with no risk to the wellbeing of the injured.”

Riva pursed her lips. She’d wanted to be moving in two or less, but she’d learned over the years that rushing the men who put you back together was never a judicious move. “Well, if there’s any way to reduce the time, it’d be preferred, but I understand the need for the time. How many?”

“Four, only one ours,” Urban firmly replied, his eyes watching as two of their soldiers entered the tent. “One of the soldiers under Officer Hawthorne’s command... from what I heard, he provoked the other three, though his squad leader insists the other men made a move first.”

Riva couldn’t have been less surprised. “We know he and his men are some of the more opinionated of the bunch. Just keep an eye out and…”

The high officer’s speech trailed as she heard what sounded like shouting start from inside. Shifting her focus from Urban to the slightly askew tent flap to her side, she shook her head as she heard the soldiers who had just passed them begin to scold the healers inside. Riva could barely believe what she heard; had they forgotten their rank? Had they not realized they’d passed two officers on their way in? The healers in that tent likely outranked those soldiers because of their role alone; that merited at least the respect to gather their comrade without criticising the healers who had helped him recover.

Urban heard the shouting too, his head turned towards the flap. “I’ll step in ma’am, apologies.”

But before Urban could move, Riva stopped him, holding out her hand. “No, wait.” A familiar voice had sounded in defiance of the two soldiers’ ignorance, a voice that very much sounded like that of the blue-haired priest who had come to the officer’s meeting in lieu of the head healer. He sounded calm and collected as he refuted the soldiers’ objections; frankly Riva was impressed by how diplomatic he came across, even despite some of the things he said. What he said would not be refuted by any man of the church, sure, but many of the men who fought in the battlefield did so for the Prophet.

As soon as the healer had finished his piece, the whole tent quieted save for the shuffling of cloth and feet. No more than ten seconds later, the two soldiers emerged with their friend. Riva cleared her throat loudly to ensure they realized she was there. “I’d get back to your battalion before another officer has a chance to report back to Officer Hawthorne about the insubordination they just witnessed.” All of them gave quick salutes to Riva and Urban, uttering harried “yes ma’am”s as they quickly walked off.

Riva looked back to Urban. “Report back to the battalion and ensure they’re ready to move, and after gather the rest of the officer’s status updates on their readiness. I’ll be able to handle the healer’s tent.”

The man nodded with a salute. “Yes ma’am.” And like that, Officer Urban was off to execute his orders.

Riva would not simply stand guard at the front of the tent as he had; no, the moment Urban stepped away Riva entered the tent, looking for the man who had verbally deflected the soldiers. A few of the other healers scrambled to their feet, saluting the high officer as they’d likely been instructed to do. Riva simply shook her head and motioned for them to ignore her, though that would of course be hard, considering she was fully armored, save for her helmet.

“At ease, keep working,” she said out of habit, her eyes now on the blue-haired man who knelt over one of the Ilian commoners. Moving over to where he and another of the healers had resumed working, Riva stood behind them, watching as they worked.

“Looks like you have more than just healing hands,” Riva said, eyes still looking over them. “It seems you also have something to say.”

[Remus]

Remus had turned to resume his healing work. Despite long hours tirelessly healing the three severely wounded men, they were mending up quite nicely. The priest's figure was hunched over the center man, with one hand compressing the deep laceration along his upper chest. Once again, warm crimson stained his fingers. The metallic smell of blood was becoming disturbingly familiar to him as of late. However, given the almost lethal nature of the man's wounds when he'd been found..it was nothing short of a miracle the healing unit had been able to bring him this far. The priests healing stave was adjusted between his coiled digits, hising the knuckles of his fingers to lock it in place near the crimson jewel which was crafted into the top of the stave. He was grateful that healing staves were fairly light weight. It made this far easier. When he heard the armored foot-steps approaching, he paid them no heed. Not out of disrespect, but focus. Remus closed his eyes, silently mouthing a prayer to Elimine for precision as he shifted his inner thoughts towards willing the wound to mend.

The warmth of the blue light which splashed outwards, bathing the tent with a brief flash before condensing to encircle the man, was somewhat sudden. However it was necessary. The severity of his wounds required a substantial amount to tend, and despite most of the healers present lacking the fortitude to instantly heal such wounds without extreme exertion, they were able to chip away at them and heal bits and pieces while keeping the three men tended too. A sudden series of words caught his attention, but not enough to impede his healing.

"Looks like you have more than just healing hands,- It seems you also have something to say.”"

Remus recognized the voice. High officer Riva Harel. How could he not? She had been the one to devise the plan they had in coming to where they were. He wasn't really surprised that she'd comment on his actions a moment earlier; though he'd no idea she'd been watching; however his focus on the wound denied him the luxury of conveying shock at her being present. The red meat within the man slowly became less exposed as Remus healed more of the man's wound. Fatigue slipped into the priests limbs as he drew upon more and more of his own energy to continue the healing magics flow. However, after closing up a few inches of the wound on either side, if left the external appearance of it a far cry from it's original likeness. Sweat trickled down the priest's temples and chin as he spoke. He couldn't leave the man's side just yet.


"Nothing special to say High Officer. However as a man of Elimine, I find it a bit disrespectful when people prioritize the retribution of others over the blessings we enjoy thanks to Elimine's toil. Consider it bias due to my trade as one who heals."

He had to remind himself before speaking. Sheep in Wolf's clothing. He couldn't voice his true contempt for the mentality that the inquisition brought with it. The notion of an inquisition at all horrified him really. He ran a damp warm rag along the wounded man's chest as he slowly cleaned the blood around the wound. He then moved it to a bucket to be wrung, before using a clean towel at the side of the blanket his patient lay upon to dry his crimson stained hands. He did his best to stifle his labored breathing as he shakily rose. After all, he'd been perpetually healing most of the day. It was no simple feat, or one he could rest much while doing.

"What brings you to our small healing station Ma'am, if you don't mind my asking. Has something happened that requires our presence?"

[Riva Harel]

It was honestly fascinating to Riva, watching the healers as they worked. It was something that was completely beyond her, somehow drawing on Elimine’s light, harnessing her blessings to heal the broken and wounded. But these men made it look simple, easy, even when it was clear they were tired and fatigued from the awesome power that flowed through their hands. If only she could understand what that felt like, to be so filled with the Light that wounds could disappear beneath her fingers. But that had not been her calling; Elimine had blessed the officer with hands skilled with blades.

The older woman’s comment lingered over the relative silence in the tent as Riva patiently watched, understanding the man was hard at work. It was amusing to the officer that the head healer hadn’t volunteered to accompany any of his “troupe” out, yet many of those in the tent now had specifically requested to come out with the squads. A fantastic coordinator, to be sure, but not the most hands-on one she’d ever met.

When Remus finally spoke, Riva wasn’t surprised to hear what many might consider a conservative view of the faith. While the officer was an ardent supporter of the Prophet and his message, she was not one to enact an inquisition on her men, not when they were performing their duties. Besides, nothing the man had said was outright against their leader, even if what he said could have implied the thought. For her, it wasn’t a thought worth lingering on.

Riva moved to offer a hand as the priest stood to his feet, but he was able to right himself before she could help. “No, nothing outside what you’ve already been doing,” the officer smiled delicately, bringing her hands together behind her back. “To be honest, I’m more interested to know what we could be doing to better accommodate all of you. Your lead healer is a hard man to get into a room with.”

[Remus]

Remus fell quiet for a moment. The stiffing heat from his body temperature brought about by efforts to sustain healing sessions caused him to lift a hand and wipe the sweat from his brow. The priest was still bright with energy despite his weariness. He had no other knowledge as to how to go about life really. So, despite this strain from healing, the priest smiled warmly with a chuckle leaving his lips as she brought up their often absent leader. The bishop was a capable healer, and talented practitioner of light magic as well. However he was a very lackadaisical. He was often wanting to rest or enjoy sleep as if to rest.

Remus spoke after a moment as he shifted his hands to press to his back and pressed inwards with his palms. The slight series of pops and ripples indicated that his back was comfortably realigning now. "Well..I think honestly besides giving the healers the space and freedom to go about their work unheckled there is aught else to be done. Ah..though I would admit you are correct. He...is fond of leaving us to manage while he speaks to the soldiers or meditates..er..if thats what it can be called."

Meditation was another word for sleeping. After all. Meditation implied thought during the process or attempting to attain enlightenment. As opposed to taking moments to receive bodily rest. Remus had personally taken on himself the responsibilities of the main to ensure that in the event of an emergency; they were ready. Remus shrugged his shoulders a bit while he adjusted his poise and shifted his staff."Often, matters that require his attention are brought to me instead to handle. Most would simply let them fall aside so that he would be forced to act; however the matters in which we deal often involve the safety or well being of others. Being caught short-handed or off guard by anything because we are attempting to let someone learn such lessons could result in another death or greater injury; which I am not willing to give a chance to happen. I assure you however, that if the matters are brought to me they will still get done. It's all I can offer, but I offer it still. This way outside bystanders are not brought to suffer because of inner squabbles. "