First of all, sorry for the delay. End of summer, camping, moving, keeping track of my registration paperwork kind of made me forget to breathe for a while. Second, then thank you very much for your review, Kertal, it's very nice to know you've liked my chapter :) See, I did keep writing (even if slowly).

Finduilas: Eheh of course Matteo isn't quick to understand what he wants, but then I didn't plan a thousand trials for them to overcome after that, so I guess it balances ;) As for Valygar and Nalia, you're right that it's the first time that I hint to something. I didn't really write anything specific for them, I just thought that as unconventional nobility they just fit soooo well together that I couldn't miss inventing something of that kind. As for Matteo's parents… let's not get ahead of ourselves ;)

Chapter V. Order's campaign

Two days later, Matteo found himself back at the Order's Headquarters, waiting for his meeting with the prelate. He was supposed to be sent on a mission or campaign. He had been stationed in the city for far too long for his liking; he had not taken an active part in the fight for nearly four months. He had been training his new squire, a very promising warrior and priest of Helm by the name of Ranloy, of course, but it was not the same as actually facing evil on a battlefield.

A few minutes later, he was out of the prelate's office and sent to his room to prepare himself to leave the following day. He was to be the second in command of an orc-chasing campaign. There was a band of well-organized orcs, with a powerful chieftain, trying to establish a fortress in the deserted hills just north of Imnesvale. Atta had warned the Order of this a few days ago, and the situation required a swift intervention; the ranger was too old to take an orc fortress by herself, and had asked help from the Order. She had helped more than once to hold the outpost from monstrous invasions, and the Order was more than happy to help her in the task.

Matteo had ridden so much in the last few days, to the De'Arnisse and back, that he was condemned to use the Pearly white ioun stone to be able to tolerate the saddle. He was not a very good rider, especially not compared to the cavaliers. His mother and sister, both mounting with elven grace, tried to teach him, but his almost-human figure did not take kindly to their grace, and he failed miserably.

So it was a great relief when they reached their rest point, the De'Arnisse lands, around mid-course, to let the horses drink and to walk the men. He was lying on his back in the grass, stretching inside of his armour, eyes closed, enjoying the sun as elves tended to do, when he suddenly heard the quiet rustle coming from the men when there were newcomers. It would not do for the second-in-command to be sleeping in the grass, so he sighed and got up.

"Matteo!", he heard.

He turned just in time to brace himself against the merciless assault of Mikal. He laughed as he seized the boy, turned him upside down and ran about, roaring like a mad animal, the boy laughing and squirming in his grasp.

"Are these the reinforcements, Sir?", one of the squires asked the commanding officer, Dankir.

"I don't think so," Dankir answered evenly. He was not known for a particularly good sense of humour, but he was not a tyrant either. "I was told we would be accompanied by two priestesses of Lathander. The boy obviously doesn't fit this description."

Matteo slowly set Mikal down when he heard that. His heart was beating faster all of a sudden. Could it be possible…? He forced his mind on more present things:

"I see you are well healed, Mikal. I hope you learned which blueberries not to eat?"

"Oh, yes Sir!", the boy nodded enthusiastically. "My mother forbade me to eat any until I am old-enufftonauw. How old is that, Matteo?"

The warrior-priest flashed a crooked smile.

"That's a few years, Mikal."

"Oh, but I like blueberries!", the boy protested.

"Well, maybe then you can go with someone older than you, that will know for sure which ones are good and which ones are not."

"Moma is never gonna want that," the child complained, rolling his eyes. Matteo almost laughed.

"Your mother was very worried. You have to forgive her." Matteo ruffled his hair. "Now, you will have to excuse me, young man, because we will be leaving shortly, and I must report to my commanding officer."

"Yes, Sir!", Mikal said, before he ran off into the woods, taking a last look at the group of knights in armour.

"I do hope we are shining enough for his taste, this once," Matteo mumbled for himself, looking at him running away.

There was another rustle and Matteo turned around just in time to see Dankir welcoming the two priestesses. He walked forward, heart beating like a caged bird, as Dankir was bending to kiss the hand of the first, then the second priestess.

He could barely believe his eyes; he had not known they would get reinforcements. And moreover, he had not known the reinforcements would be her and her friend.

"Sir Matteo," Calandra said with a playful smile and a little curtsy, before being imitated by her friend, Thaycree.

"Dawnbringer Calandra, Dawnbringer Thaycree," Matteo nodded.

"Oh, you know each other?", Dankir asked.

Matteo let Calandra answer that one. "We assist with Lady Coreen's research, and met her brother last tenday, at a celebration for her seniorship amongst the Cowled wizards."

"Ah, so your sister is finally a fully corrupted mage, is that it?", Dankir asked in a dull tone.

Matteo stood there thunderstruck for a second. Calandra saw his face drain of color and the grey hardness of steel in his blue eyes.

"Do not insult my sister, Sir Dankir," Matteo stated very coldly. "You are not worthy of judging her."

"Do not question my worthiness, knight," the paladin answered. His hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. Matteo's hands did not move from his sides, they did not clench in fists, but his face was regaining some color. There was the taste of blood and ashes to the back of his throat, and he struggled against his anger until he was capable of stating his thoughts clearly and appropriately.

"You do not know her, and therefore are not capable of judging her actions. That is all I have to say. If you ever insult her again, you shall answer of those words to me, her brother, and I will defend her honour, because she more than deserves it. And I hope you did not mean to extend the insult to my sister's co-workers, because that would be less than tactless."

Matteo turned on his heel and left without a proper salute to his commanding officer. He mounted his horse stiffly, and went to the edge of the clearing, roaring the gathering order. Everyone rushed to obey him, as Dankir was giving their horses to the ladies and slowly making his way to the head of the group. Matteo did not look his way when he gave the marching order.

"Take the rear guard, Sir Matteo, and make sure we are not ambushed," Dankir ordered.

"Yes, Sir," Matteo replied, too glad to fall back to the last line of the group. He steered his horse clear of the company, then took the last position.

There he was able to relax and focus on the road and the bandits to watch for. His blood cooled sufficiently for him to think straight again, and just curse Dankir for a fool in his mind. After a longer while, he let himself be absorbed by the sight of Calandra's delicate back riding a few paces before him. Not too much absorbed, since he still had to check the underbrush for amb…

"Halt!", he yelled, as he pushed his horse brutally to the side into one of the bushes, felling a thug over, barely avoiding a crossbow shot.

"Cavaliers, go round with horses! Others, dismount! Priests, get behind the lines!", Dankir bellowed over the quickly rising sounds of battle.

"Well, we didn't know it would be quite so hasty," Thaycree said as she hurriedly dismounted and made her way towards the back of the line of fighters, deftly escaping the notice of the thugs.

"That's what we came for, Cree, now let's help! I'll Defensive harmony, you Chant."

One of the warrior-priests next to them was starting a Holy smite. The defensive spells washed over the line of warriors and suddenly they were better fighters. Then the Holy smite fell from the sky in a veil of silver and most of their attackers took heavy damage. The battle was quickly over after that.

"Battle formations!", Dankir ordered, authoritarian. "Inquisitors keep watch and detect evil. Healing."

The warrior-priests and the priestesses started to go through the ranks of the battle formations, and gave healing to those that were in most dire need. Calandra had never seen a battle before, the De'Arnisse lands being extremely peaceful, thanks to lady Nalia's careful leadership. She had seen many serious injuries, mainly from agriculture accidents, like a man cutting his leg in half with an axe, or a cut tree falling on a child, or a mad horse running someone over. But she had never seen a man hit another man with the purpose of killing. She had never seen blood-stricken armour, indented by the thrusts of the enemy, she had never seen the clean and deep cuts of the swords, never extracted a crossbow bolt, never healed the ragged wound of an axe. She was a healer, and it was possible for her to repair all this damage as easily as she could repair a broken leg because of a fallen tree, but she was wondering if this was her place.

Thaycree was close to being sick next to her, going from wounded to wounded stoically, distributing her healing spells and comforting words to the men, but many felt the need to put a hand on her shoulder to tell her that they were alright. Finally she spent her last healing spell, and went to sit a little apart from the men, her back on the battlefield and the many corpses. One of the inquisitors that were standing guard discreetly made a few steps to the side to watch over her without intruding upon her.

Calandra was a little more experienced, and had a few more spells to spare. But eventually she finished them too, and went to sit next to her friend. Thaycree had gained back some colors, but both were grateful to feel the hug of each other.

They both felt a reassuring hand on their shoulders, channelling them with calming and soothing energies. Calandra and Thaycree both sighed and relaxed, eyes closed.

"It is horrendous the first time. And the others. But as healers we can do something about it, and it makes it easier for me," Matteo began. "But I have chosen this way to fight. My sister fights for the poor with her magic. You help the same people everyday in a very important way. You do not have to take on this sort of fight if you do not wish to. There is more than enough to be done in the world; you don't need to face the brunt of a fight to do something important."

"But we have promised our help, and without us you are two healers less. We will hold our promise. We will follow you and help you in this mission," Calandra stated decidedly.

"Of course we will," Thaycree snarled. "How dare you doubt our determination, goody-two-shoes." She rubbed her face of her tears and was about to stand. Matteo smiled and offered her his hand. She took it decidedly and pulled herself to her feet.

"We are grateful for your help and your courage, miladies."

He helped Calandra up too, but he held her fingers in a lingering and delicate way that clearly went beyond the mere action of pulling her to her feet.