Donning the Armor

Arinellle steeled her spine as she walked across the large lot where the Cathedral of Light and related buildings were. She was going to the barracks and training grounds of the Guardians of Light to request provisions from the armory.

"Then let the light draw the gaze while the shadows become darker,” she had told Nevermore the night she’d attempted to step in and assist him during a fight.

“You look ill equipped to draw that much attention, Loreilian,” he had responded.

And he had not been wrong. Her cloak and dress were not protection enough to prevent injury, and her little training in using such things gave just barely enough knowledge to wear it. And so, she would begin the process of learning, just as she’d done with healing.

She’d heard that the Darkling Way Tavern was offering free round trips this evening for those who wished to try their skill within the magical ruins beneath the Shattered Peaks. She intended to go. She was not sure who she would venture forth alongside, but hoped that there was a group who could use someone versed in healing arts.

A Guardian stood near the entrance, observing some Knights in their morning training.

“Ser Morro!” she greeted, bowing her head respectfully.

“Ama Illum,” he replied, a smile curling his lips. “How may I aid you this beautiful morning?”

“I am in need of armor, if you please,” she stated decisively.

A look of surprise flashed across his features. “Armor, Ama? Is there a service the Guardians can provide you?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you, Ser Morro. Well-fitted armor, a shield, and perhaps a weapon will be sufficient.”

He gaped at her a moment, unused to a Divine Priestess requesting such things. The Guardians had Paladins and Clerics of their own, those trained for combat as well as healing. The clerics of the Order of Life and Mercy tended to the sick in the hospitals and clinics, not in battle.

“This is a rather unusual request, Ama. We have no orders to send you to battle.”

Arinelle said a silent prayer of patience before responding. “I am not being sent to battle, Ser. I am planning to accept the invitation extended by the Darkling Way to venture into the ruins. I am ill equipped to do so.” She gestured to her white gown and cloak.

He blinked.

“Ser Morro? The armory?” Her serious topaz gaze stared up at him, very clearly setting the expectation that she would not be denied her request.

“Have you spoken to the Ankress about this?” he asked, hesitating.

“The Ankress and the Benefic have impressed upon me, throughout my years here, that I must be ready to meet my destiny when it comes calling,” she told him, her voice gaining a bit of an edge to it. “I have heard the beginning of its song and I wish to prepare myself. I cannot do so by staying securely within the walls of the hospital and Cathedral. Now, you will please provide me with the gear I have requested.”

Thelan Morro, Guardian of the Light, hesitated a moment more before he simply nodded and led the way to the armory. He would report this to the Ankress, but would not stand in the Ama’s way if she was determined to equip herself for battle.

In the armory, he attempted to provide her with simple, light armor but Arinelle insisted on the heaviest she could wear while still being able to move effectively. The chainmail settled over her, the weight of it feeling right. It was accompanied by a tabard, white with the edges lined in silver-gray thread and the symbol of Loreali prominent on front and back. A shield came next, also engraved with the symbol of Loreali, and a mace to hang from her weapons belt. At the end of the process, she looked far more like one of the Guardians’ clerics than one of the Order.

“My thanks, Ser Morro,” she said, offering an awkward bow, then turning and moving back out to the training grounds, the soft metallic clanking of the armor echoing behind her.