Kir just let Jaina cry into his shoulder, looking over her head to examine the Firestarter's Hall. He hadn't been here in years, and in the years he'd been gone he'd hardly given the place a first thought, much less a second one. But he'd never forgotten it, not really. After being taken from his family, it was the first place he'd felt somewhat at home.

The main Hall had vaulted ceilings and the western wall had a massive stained-glass window depicting the Sun Disk in all the shades of flame – thick-paned skylights let in more light without being too vulnerable to weather. Below the stained-glass window, the wall was plain paneled wood with doors to the central courtyard in the middle. He couldn't see those from his current angle though, it was blocked by the seat of the Incendiary, Head of the Order, where Jaina had been residing a few minutes ago.

The tables and chairs formed a false-corridor approaching the Incendiary and were seldom used outside of a true Conclave; for that matter, from what he recalled the Incendiary was hardly ever actually sitting in that chair – it wasn't like people often approached the Firestarting Order with petitions or problems. Not any longer, anyways.

"…First order of business – are those chairs supposed to be on fire?"

Kir shook his head, smiling and heard Jaina laugh quietly, pulling away from him and wiping her face with her sleeve, a much more brilliant crimson than his faded robes. "That would be your Enforcer then?" she asked quietly, and Kir nodded, "Anur Bellamy, Lieutenant-Enforcer," he murmured, unable and unwilling to keep the fondness from his voice.

"Thought so, now - when was the last time you all ate?"

"And resident mother-hen," he added, chuckling and rising to his feet, offering Jaina a hand and helping her up before turning to Anur and saying, "Not every problem in the world can be solved by adding spice-cake, Anur."

"But the situation can at least be made more pleasant," Anur replied loftily, "Though depending on the answer, spice-cake wouldn't be the best because it's not exactly nutritious. Or something to eat if you've been living of tea and bread for the past two weeks."

"The Conclave was initiated three days ago," the only other Firestarter to have spoken said. Kir recognized him of course, Colbern, a Second Order Firestarter who was the second oldest of their entire Order and fond of the more militaristic aspects of their traditions. If he wasn't mistaken, the man was the only other Firestarter in recent history to have been sent out as a chaplain, decades ago, well before even the Tedrel Wars, and he'd volunteered for the job.

"In response to Her Eminence's announcement regarding modern witches," Jaina continued, sounding exhausted, "She made the announcement after the Sun Ascending service, so word spread very quickly. We – hadn't been notified in advance and it was – is – it's a shock, and we didn't respond very coherently."

Kir felt a sharp spike of anger, of indignation, and only half of it was his own. Shooting a look Anur's way, the Herald-Enforcer's blank expression gave everything away – he never had a blank expression except when he thought showing his emotions might worry people.

He'd never had the heart to tell him that the blank expression was probably more unnerving to observers than actually showing his anger or frustration, particularly if they were familiar with his usually highly mobile features.

But blast it all, Solaris should have given them some forewarning, even just pulled Jaina aside before the service, as she had clearly attended. A letter, a brief notice that something regarding the Firestarting Order would be announced after the service, anything would have been better than simply decrying their Order's actions for the past centuries in front of the people they'd policed for witchcraft and pulled victims from in the first place.

"Well then, where in this place can we find food? And chairs that aren't on fire? If you've been arguing in here for three days with only occasional sustentence, you're going to be falling over soon," Anur said, Colbern again the one who responded, saying tiredly, "Basic kitchen is this way," turning on his heel and leading the way to the back of the room, the other Firestarters following him to what Kir remembered as an extremely basic kitchen and dining area that also overlooked the central courtyard, using mixed clear and stained glass windows to provide lighting and a view.

:Kir, this is going to be bad – I can't believe she didn't give any warning about it!:

:It's not something that would really be considered,: Kir replied, waving for Jaina to precede him through the door, meeting Anur's gaze and taking advantage of the momentary isolation to shrug helplessly, :There's only eleven of us. And that's with a boy I'd bet was ordained a few moons ago, if that. The priesthood has hundreds of members across Karse, we're not anything approaching a priority in that respect.:

:Um, I'm sorry, did I just make up the fact that she's counting on the Firestarters to form a line of defense against Hardorn while the Sunsguard is crippled with housecleaning?:

:While nothing like that was explicitly stated, it was implied,: Kir allowed, stepping through the door himself and Anur immediately headed for cupboards and the pantry to hunt for food. Their doors were shut with a bit more force than necessary when their contents didn't satisfy him.

"Find the tea?" he asked, heading for where he knew the mugs were, right over the water-pump and sink, intentionally enough.

"I found a lot of tea, what kind are you after?" Anur replied, opening a cupboard again and eyeing it.

"Eh – cheapest blend," Kir shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the Firestarters sitting around one of the long tables. All of them looked exhausted and dazed, they probably wouldn't even notice the taste so might as well not waste the better quality stuff.

"How am I supposed to know what's cheapest?" Anur griped, digging through the cupboard, presumably filled with boxes of tea from the sounds, "It's not like these things are labeled with prices!"

"Then the easiest to grab, since initiates will get that first," Kir snorted, Anur immediately grabbing a light-colored wooden box and sliding it over at him, shutting the tea cupboard and pulling out knives to slice the loaf of hard bread and the cheeses he'd found. Kir opened it and he raised an eyebrow, "Your cheapest tea has citrus?" he asked over his shoulder, Anur making a choking sound. Lemons and bitter oranges did grow in Karse, rather well in the southern reaches actually so it wasn't as prohibitively expensive as it apparently could be in Valdemar, but for that to be the first tea within reach rather than some basic peppermint blend?

"Yes?" Jaina replied questioningly, looking up from her hands to stare at Kir in bemusement, "Why does the price of our tea matter?"

"I am so raising my standards for the rest of our stay in Sunhame," Anur mumbled, Kir snorting and nodding agreement, shutting the box and finishing up with filling the mugs. An idle wave of his hand set the water to near boiling and he quickly dropped a few pinches of the tea blend into each mug. By the time he finished passing the mugs of tea out to his fellows, Anur had slid a platter of bread, cheese and sliced apples onto the table before grabbing a few pieces of fruit for himself and dropping onto the bench next to Kir.

"You didn't use a kettle," the oldest of the Firestarters, Seras if Kir remembered right, said, staring at his steaming mug of tea, "Did you just – did you just heat up the water? In each mug?"

"…Yes," Kir bit out, uncomfortable with the idea of giving away any his abilities in this sort of setting but knowing it was necessary. For one, if Solaris really was going to depend on Firestarters to help make up for the deficit of Sunsguard at the Hardornen border, the old ritual methods weren't going to suffice. For another, he hadn't been anywhere near another Firestarter in over a decade. If he was going to become head of the Order in more than just name, he needed to prove himself capable; if not with politics, with flames.

"Are you all going to drink it, or just stare at it, because if you won't, I definitely will, this is good!" Anur said, Kir chuckling as that statement did exactly what Anur meant it too, most of the Firestarters finally taking a sip of their tea.

"Eat something too," Kir prompted, couldn't have Anur the only one shoving food down their throats after all, "If you've all been in Conclave for three days, I doubt you've actually been feeding yourselves adequately."

"We managed not to keel over," Jaina said dryly, sitting on Kir's other side, "But that is all I can claim."

"Was anything decided then?" Kir asked, allowing everyone a few moments to at least drag some food towards them, if not actually start eating.

"The Conclave was called so we'd have an excuse to keep people out more than anything," the only other female Firestarter (Lumira, perhaps?) said, propping her chin on her hand and clearly exhausted, "We've just been – it's been – "

"We've been trying to distract ourselves from the fact that we've spent the entirety of our adult lives burning innocents alive," Seras said, gaze haunted as he looked up from his mug, shoudlers slumping as he continued, "I – the records they – Sunlord what have we done."

"Our job!" a Firestarter ordained in the middle of Kir's own acolyte years snarled, stocky man hitting the table with his fist and growling wordlessly as his knuckles went white, "We did our job we thought we were – everyone thought we were doing the right thing! And now they're going to blame us for it, as if it was just us that did these things when everyone did it and Her Bloody Eminence didn't help matters announcing that we were in the wrong and not even mentioning the fucking demon-summonings, or the fact that 'witches are not defined properly', but just saying that the Firestarter Tradition had been warped, what like it was our fault - !"

"Kir! Calm down!" Anur barked sharply, "And you too, other Firestarter!"

Kir exhaled slowly and unclenched his fists, letting the heat he'd been letting flare around him disperse and then pulling the heat out of his now literally boiling tea. The former had become a habit much less destructive than flaring flames, simply expelling heat as if he himself were a flame, but was still noticeable and made it easier for things to ignite in his vicinity. Not something he needed when surrounded by others who set things alight when stressed.

"I will have to speak with her regarding future announcement styles," Kir said, consciously letting that flare of anger go. He would have to speak with her about it, maybe even get Solaris to issue an apology, if he could talk her around to that, but he couldn't be truly angry – he understood the sheer magnitude of the issues she was facing after all, and to be perfectly honest, an Order that amounted to not even a handful of her entire priesthood could hardly be a priority. "That is Kavrick, Anur, Firestarter of the Second Order, last I heard. Which was some years ago, admittedly."

"Still Second Order, Eldest," the indicated Kavrick nodded shortly, "Apologies for my outburst. It is simply… frustrating. To think of what we will be facing when we finally get the nerve up to leave this makeshift sanctuary."

"And worrying," Jaina continued tiredly, "Even with rumors of blood-magic – unconfirmed though they are – the entirety of our Order's duties have just been… brushed aside. With everything in flux at the moment it isn't so bad, but we've been losing power for some time. I don't even know if we'll be able to sustain ourselves as an Order after this."

"Consider the rumors of blood-magic confirmed," Kir said, a wry smile crossing his face, "Who do you think kept sending reports in to start the rumors?"

"You're the one that met Fredric?" Kavrick raised an eyebrow, "I have to thank you then, I hadn't spoken to him in some time when he came up asking about lothga and blood-mages. It was nice to catch up."

"They're in Hardorn then? Ancar's employing them?" Jaina asked, eyes reddened by tears narrowing nonetheless, "Have they been set against us, or are they targeted at the White Demons alone?"

"Ancar is one, from what we've heard," Kir nodded towards Anur, who was looking around the room curiously, mug clutched between both hands the only possible sign of unease. If it weren't for the humming tension Kir could feel in the back of his mind, in that odd half-removed corner he'd learned to designate Anur, he'd probably have missed it entirely. "And he employs his kin in the art. No blood-mage bound troops have been sent deliberately against Karse, but there has been detritus and raids – mercenaries hired by him too. But for blood-magic, it has been the incidentals that have caused problems – poisoned water ways, lothga and the like. Haunts, too."

"But we're not going to be sent in against them, not if they're not actively engaging in war with us," he was nearly certain her name was Lumira, and she had leaned forward slightly, straightening in her chair, "With their targets being the White Demons – so long as there is no active war perpetrated against us, it will remain incidentals. Is that enough to justify our Order's continuation?"

"Our Order's continuation is not in question," Kir said shortly, "Our Order will remain because despite the recent declarations, there is still evil to burn. We predate the Son of Sun! We predate the theocracy! We will not be extinguished by this change in regimes, because I will not allow it to happen!"

"And do you have the power to claim that?" Seras asked, voice equally biting, eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, "Eldest you may be, only other candidate for Head you may be, but you haven't set foot in Sunhame for over a decade, boy! What sort of power backs you to make that claim? This tea alone indicates you have a remarkable command of the flames, but with most of their fuel banned from use, those alone won't sustain you! Much less against a divinely chosen Son of Sun!"

"Considering how many investigations I've conducted on her behalf in recent years, I damn well better have the sway to keep our Order alive," Kir replied dryly, not letting himself rise to the bitterness in that tone. "Considering how badly she's mismanaged the Firestarter situation already, she damn well better listen to me when it comes to our Order's future."

"You knew this was coming then," Colbern said, eyes narrowing, "Did you know, then, about the innocents? About the crimes we were committing?"

Kir could feel his shoulders tense, his eyes tighten, and he said quietly, "I've known we were burning innocents for years. I… suspected since I was an initiate. The stories – Ari and the God King, Vanya Flamesinger, even Silas the Torch-Keeper – none of the supposed witches we burned seemed even remotely like the evils they faced, the wretches they burned. It didn't fit, it didn't make sense. By the time our acolyte years were over," he nodded towards Jaina, who was the only member of his acolyte quartet still living, "I was certain that none of the supposed witches we burned were deserving of that condemnation. But what could I do? Mentioning it to anyone else would simply see me dead, I had no patience for the politics and strategies that might bring actual change in Sunhame, and too much power was wrought from the terror we brought people – the old regime would never have actually changed the definition of a witch, no matter how delicately I breached the issue."

"And you didn't see fit to tell any of your fellow Firestarters?" Seras demanded, Kir snorting at the question and replying, "Would anyone have believed me? There wasn't any solid proof, any holy declaration, just my own conscience, my own heart, telling me it was wrong, what we were doing. That these children weren't evil incarnate. So I gave them what mercy I could, learned flames to the point that they'd be dead before any pain hit," Kir shrugged, taking a gulp of tea, before confessing, "But even with that poor mercy I could offer, I sleep no easier for the fourteen dead children that coat my hands in ash."

"Thirty-six," Seras murmured, staring at his hands blankly, clearly seeing something that wasn't quite there, "Thirty-six children, in my forty-odd years of service."

"Twenty-three," Colbern murmured, mug slamming onto the table, "Twenty-three, in thirty years."

Similar recitations followed, anywhere from none – the most recently ordained, only a few moons of service as Kir had guessed – to Jaina's twenty-eight in thirteen years. As the Head of the Order, she'd been responsible for all the burnings in Sunhame as well as the Temple itself, and given the reasoning behind picking a child for the priesthood, there were much higher chances of an initiate being burned than a random child picked off the streets.

"And your Enforcer?" Jaina prompted, looking around Kir at Anur, "Anur Bellamy, correct?"

"Indeed," Anur flashed her a small smile before saying, "And the only burnings I've been involved in have been true witches out of Hardorn, that one lothga situation and the Oathbreaker. So in that respect at least," here his smile turned bitter as he repeated, "In that respect, at the least, I have no innocent blood on my hands."

"You are very fortunate," she said solemnly, lips tightening as she looked at her mug, hands shaking slightly before she tightened her grip.

"An Oathbreaker," Lumira's eyes narrowed, "That was – this past spring, wasn't it? Out by the mountains? We heard rumors, but… the stories were rather outlandish."

"Well, in retrospect," another man, a relatively recent investiture with three years to his name, snorted, waving his hand in an all-encompasing sort of gesture, "Entirely reasonable. No lightning, after all."

Everyone at least let their lips twitch at that while Kir actually chuckled, Anur giving an aggreived sigh and saying, "I'd been hopeful the stories would grow to lightning, that would have been fantastic!"

"I'm more interested in this lothga story," Kavrick admitted, leaning forward and looking down the table at them, "Fredric mentioned that new initiate, Rodri, was involved, but kept his name out of reports we kept throwing at the administration – boy didn't need that sort of attention, he said. I assume that questioning him would have dragged your name into it?"

"Anur played bait for it, it had been isolated within a threshold for three days before we arrived to deal with it, so once it was drawn out we were able to burn its core," Kir confirmed, "Rodri was the first to fall to it, and it's my belief his knack for flames rose from that."

"Some of his exercises reminded me of the ones you showed us, before Darius started pestering you and botched that exercise anyway," Jaina shuddered at the memory, "I told him to be careful, but he seemed rather sensible about it. Given, he's only been a Firestarting initiate for a few moons, but he's been working in the forges for a fair while now if reports are accurate."

"He has, I asked Axeli to look out for him," Kir confirmed, "My leaving Sunhame was rather… hasty, so I decided it was best to not have my name linked to his. Particularly given that by that time I'd become acquainted with Solaris and knew that there was some form of unrest coming. Best he remain protected by his youth in that case."

"Who's Darius?" Anur asked idly, swirling the dregs of his tea.

"Remember my warnings about internal temperature adjustment?" Kir replied obliquely, clarifying mentally, :The one that exploded, like that dummy Griffon tried to warm the first time?:

"You didn't just make that one up?" Anur raised an eyebrow, Kir returning the gesture and asking dryly, "Why would I make something like that up?"

"I don't know, a warning of some sort? To get people to stop pestering you to warm up their cloaks in the middle of winter?" Anur shrugged, draining the last of his tea with a shudder at the bitter aftertaste, continuing, "You burn their internal organs all the time, but all that happens is that shoot of flame coming out of their mouths – it's not like they literally explode, figured if setting their innards on fire wouldn't do it, it wasn't going to work."

"Well I don't know how he did it," Kir rolled his eyes, "As Jaina implied, he took one of my techniques and ideas and then botched it somehow – I can't replicate it, that internal organs bit was actually a result of me trying to reproduce it, but I just can't figure it. I can't get water to flash to steam quite yet, and blood's even more stubborn to manipulate to that extent."

"Is this topic really appropriate right now?" the Second Order across from Anur asked, looking nauseous, "We're eating."

"It's not like we're eating sausage or anything bloody," Anur snorted, "And even then, that just makes for good models."

Colbern laughed softly, shaking his head ruefully as he said, "Not just the Enforcer, then. You're with the Sunsguard a lot, the pair of you."

"Of course," Kir replied, startled that it had even been in question, "I'm chaplain of the 62nd Cavalry, have been for near fourteen years – I was assigned there when I left Sunhame and never switched out. I pulled Anur into our forces a few years ago but he was already familiar with them at that point."

Colbern let out a low whistle, nodding slowly and saying, "Makes sense then – well keep in mind, you two, that I'm the only other Firestarter who's ever served as a chaplain, and my term was decades ago, finished out just before the Tedrel Wars."

"Though if we're going to be going against blood mages in Hardorn, that's going to change," Jaina frowned, "Is it going to be full scale war? Or just the incidentals? I assume we won't be doing a preemptive strike of any sort."

"Can't afford it," Anur shook his head, Kir continuing, "But Ancar attacking us is… likely. We won't be officially sent against him as an act of war, because as Anur said, we can't afford that. Not with the reforms that need to be pushed through and the civil unrest that hasn't quite erupted yet."

"People are still too scared," Kavrick snorted, "It'll take some quieter weeks before they get the guts up to actually try something. But even with incidentals, we're going to be dealing with the Guard, so Jaina has a point. This lothga, was there enough time for our standard ritual chants?"

"Definitely not," Kir shook his head, "Not if the goal was to have no casualties. And given the situation we walked into with Rodri on the way here – I'd prefer if no one was sent out in the field without at least some ability to defend themselves without flames."

"Rodri? Our initiate? What happened?" Jaina demanded, and Kir grimaced, this wasn't exactly going to encourage them to leave their self-imposed isolation after all.

"He was cornered on the way to the forgemaster he works with," Anur shrugged, downplaying the situation a bit with his tone and description, "Some idiots hurling insults, probably drunk – scared the kid more than anything, people didn't want to get in the middle so they were just milling around when Kir and I cut in on our way to the District. Got there a few moments before the forgemaster came barreling through ready to take a hammer to anyone after the kid, so at least we managed to keep him from bashing any heads in. Wouldn't exactly have been the impression we'd have wanted to leave."

"Speak for yourself," Kir grumbled, fairly certain he was at least half-joking, "I would have been perfectly happy seeing their brains on the ground. Wouldn't have been much to speak of anyway."

Anur snorted and shook his head, swapping out Kir's half-full tea for his empty one. Kir didn't bother grabbing for it, he preferred his own blends. Thankfully he'd brought some, never left home without them, though their packs were still in Solaris' quarters for now.

But even with Anur's softening of the situation, with Kir's black-humored comment, he could see the fight fade from his brethren, their brief hope in a new purpose, in a worthy cause, fading under the weight of the reminder of what they'd done. Of what they were going to be held responsible for doing.

"So they do hate us," Lumira said lowly, shoulders slumping, "Kavrick was right, then. We are being targeted, being blamed when it wasn't just us."

"We're easy targets," the youngest of them murmured, hunching in on himself, "Summoners can just vanish into the woodwork, red-robes have always had less fearsome duties – we're the ones set aside the moment someone sees us."

"And now, even after all these declarations, these changes, it is again our job to burn," Jaina said quietly, "To set fire to the Son of Sun's enemies."

"You won't be forced to," Kir said, resting a hand on her arm, Jaina looking up at him half-heartedly and he continued, wanting to impress upon her, upon all of them, just how sincere he was. "If you truly want to leave those duties behind, you can, all of you. You won't be forced to burn someone. Never again."

"It never was against my will, though," Jaina murmured, a wretched despair in her voice, "I thought I was doing the right thing. I was honored to be head of the Order, to be the first and final line of defense between the faithful and the wicked. All this time I thought I was protecting the faithful, serving the Sunlord in a vital role – and it was a lie."

"I think I speak for all of us when I say we had similar thoughts," Colbern said wearily, seeming twice-again his age. Seras grimaced next to him but nodded nevertheless, whispering, "I… ignored any doubts. Only had them later on, when I watched – it was much later, after many years of pride."

Tired agreements, slumping shoulders, fading sparks greeted that statement and Kir watched them slip away again with a furious sort of grief. Distractions were no longer enough, would never have been enough, were simply a stalling mechanism, always – these men and women had been betrayed, betrayed utterly by the system they were raised to, by the people they were brought up to trust. He was the aberration, not the rule. And this complete betrayal of everything, all the support they had – that this was a duty, it was unpleasant, it was awful, but it had to be done – was wrenched away and it was a more than minor miracle that none of them had burned themselves to ash yet. Even the lowliest of Third Order Firestarters was capable of that.

He looked briefly over at Anur, and the Herald just stared back at him helplessly, not having any more of an idea than him of what exactly could drag them out of this, could bring them some sort of spark back.

Well. He had tried guiding them to the answers themselves. He had tried carefully urging the tinder to light, gently adding kindling and fuel in the hopes it would work. But they were soaked wood, soaked with tears and grief and apathy, worst of all, so that wasn't going to work.

Time for a liberal dash of prodka then.

"Is that it then?" he challenged, "Is that all you plan to do? Horror of horrors, we've been lied to our entire lives. We've burned innocent children, listened to their screams of blistering agony and have blood-soaked ash coating our hands and buried deep under our fingernails. That is never going to go away. One year of doubts, five years, a lifetime or none at all that changes nothing! That changes nothing of what we have done, what we are responsible for!"

He found himself on his feet, glaring at the stunned faces that were turned towards him, feeling inexplicably furious now that he'd begun to speak. How dare they give up? They had at least thought they were doing the right thing, had at least had that comfort to cling to all these years. He'd known he was burning innocents and all he'd had to hold to was the fact that he would grant them a mercifully quick death. And they were breaking now?

He thought not.

"Where things change is now, right now in this very moment. Now that we all know, that everyone knows what we've done, the question is what you're going to do about it. From the sounds of it, most of you would be perfectly happy immolating yourselves immediately, some false penance for your very real crimes. But think on this, before you duck out of your responsibilities – you will face the Sunlord then. You will face Him, face those you burned and what will you say? That you gave up? That you did nothing to repent for your actions? To rebuild our Order, to rebuild our priesthood into something that we can be happy to serve, that the Sunlord can be proud of?"

"Cowards!" he cried, slamming his hand against the table, smoke rising from his hand – he really needed to get better about that, this was the second time he'd burned his handprint into wood in the course of an argument – "Unwilling to face reality, to face consequences. Leave the rebuilding to those who have no ash on their hands, leave them to face the rage, the fear turned to anger – unjust! Unfair!"

He swept a scathing look across the group before straightening, saying coolly, "Do what you will, but I plan to dedicate the rest of my life to ensuring this never happens again. To restoring our Order to the protectors we were meant to be, not the nightmare fuel we became. And I plan to start with Ancar."

Silence, broken only by breathing, and Kir hardly dared hope that this had somehow gotten through to them – it had to, it had to because he was out of ideas –

"I think," Seras said quietly, looking up from his hands with a rueful sort of smile, "I think I have a few more burnings in me. I owe it to them to make those, at least, count for something."

Jaina rose to her feet next to him, looking up at him with a fierce despair-fueled rage in her eyes as she swore, "I will join you in that, brother. But I will not lead the way."

Ah – right. He'd never exactly gotten around to mentioning the fact Solaris had selected him as the new head of the Firestarting Order. There had been more urgent things to address.

Suddenly, Jaina was leaning back, eyes wide and awestruck before she suddenly knelt, head bowed. Blinking, he looked around at the others only to find they were in the same position, some murmuring prayers. He turned to look at Anur to find that his brother, at least, was being more reasonable and instead was looking at him with an odd sort of smile on his face, chunk of cheese in hand. "Nice robes," he commented.

Looking down, Kir suppressed either a sigh or a yelp – he honestly couldn't figure which reaction he'd managed to hold back. His formerly worn and occasionally threadbare robes of fading red were renewed yet altered, a true crimson again, with edging of black flanked by gold.

"I liked my old robes," he said mournfully, Anur bursting into laughter at that declaration, echoed by another chuckle, unfamiliar and in his mind. Again.

A flare of flame, and a Firecat sat on the table in front of him. Of leaner build than Hansa, this Cat's markings were mottled reds and oranges, giving him the appearance of true flames – if not to the extent Anur's initial impression of a Firecat had been.

"A Firecat?" Jaina whispered, a near childish awe in her tone and the Cat nodded towards her, some private words being exchanged judging by her flickering expressions before something approaching peace descended on her.

:Please, rise,: the Cat said, gaze locking onto Kir while the others slowly regained their feet and Anur's voice entered his mind, comforting in it's familiarity, :He agrees to Hansa's terms, though reserves the right to communicate directly in an emergency situation. He is Kari, and is here for the entire Order.:

:Thank the One God,: Kir swore, relieved. A Firecat would help immensely – both in reassuring people that the Firestarting Order was back on the true path and in shoring up the Firestarters themselves. He'd managed to drag them into some semblance of functionality with his spontaneous mostly frustration-fueled speech, but any help with that would be greatly appreciated.

:Firecats are also conveniently fluffy and huggable,: Anur added, Kir not even asking where that had come from because he was entirely certain that he didn't want to know – not right now when he couldn't give away the fact that Kari wasn't the only one here who could mindspeak.

"An honor, Kari," he said aloud, bowing his head to the Cat, who returned the gesture. :It is my honor, he says,: Anur relayed. Hopefully there wouldn't be much call for active dialogue between them or he might have to reconsider his stance on no other voices in his head. This could get tedious.

The Cat stood and leapt off the table, settling on the bench between Kir and Anur, pawing at Anur's leg until he handed him a piece of bread. Kir retook his own seat and everyone followed – except for Anur as he'd never actually left his seat in the first place.

A quick sweep of the group and he knew he needed to wrap this up quickly. They'd been exhausted before, terror and self-loathing and an unwillingness to face their dreams keeping them going, but now that they'd had the chance to sit, to be reassured even slightly that they were not doomed, they were fading fast. "We can deal with the rest later," Kir decided, looking over at them all, "Figuring out arms practice, combative firestarting – even deciding if you want to stay in the Order – it can wait. Get some rest, all of you. We'll start work on the morrow."

Gathering the empty mug Anur had left in front of him, he went to refill the mug with water before heading for the door, Anur meeting him there with a few slices of cheese in hand. Kari had apparently elected to stay behind and was hopefully in the midst of introducing himself to everyone personally. Being individually acknowledged by a Firecat would serve as a balm for their guilt.

They were halfway down the hall when the enormity of what had just happened hit him and he stopped, swaying slightly before reaching out blindly for Anur's shoulder with one hand and bracing himself. "Was wondering when that was going to hit," his friend said wryly, resting a hand between his shoulder blades, "Easy there, Kir. We've managed."

"A Firecat," Kir said numbly, "One for Solaris, almost expected – but for us? For Firestarters?"

"What, was that whole there is still evil to burn rant just lip service?" Anur raised an eyebrow, hand shifting to his shoulders and shaking him slightly, "Hey, you said it yourself, Kir. There's still evil to burn, and what better way to show that just because the office of Firestarter was abused, that doesn't mean it's not necessary, than to have a Firecat for the entire Corps?"

"No I – I truly believe that but," Kir let out a shuddering breath, brilliant crimson of his robes catching his eye and he flinched, "It's too much."

"Like hell," Anur said bluntly, finally tugging him into a one-armed embrace, saying quietly, "This is going to be a mess, a ridiculous, awful mess and the Sunlord's seen fit to offer some help – to start your leadership of the Order off on the right foot, so to speak. It's barely even a beginning, Kir. You've still got plenty of work to do."

The silence that fell was comfortable, as all their silences had become lately, before Anur broke it with an amused, "You have got to be the only person who'd rather work an extra three years than have to deal with a manifestation of divine favor, really."

"I'm not that bad," Kir grumbled, smiling slightly nonetheless. Anur had hit the nail on the head, of course. It wasn't just that he found miracles and manifestations unnerving – which he did, that probably would never change and shouldn't change to be honest – but he didn't like the idea of options, of paths being taken because they were deemed too difficult or too long. It felt like a short-cut, like he was cheating, taking the easy way out.

He had taken the easy way, the path of least resistance, for years, and it had been wrong. It had been so very, very wrong until that path of least resistance, of minimal flames, had somehow inverted in on itself and turned him into a revolutionary when he spent a peaceful night sharing stories with a Herald.

"Oh you are," Anur laughed, tightening his hold for a moment before releasing him and slipping his hands into his pockets, "But you're getting better – if I hadn't known you so well I wouldn't have noticed that twitch towards the doors when your robes changed."

"All the wear and tear is gone," Kir said ruefully, examining his sleeves again, "It's silly, perhaps, but – I liked those old robes. They were... mine, I suppose. A sign of my work."

"It's not silly," Anur retorted, "Your robes are what set you apart, but the wear and tear is what brought you in. They showed something of your history, your willingness and ability to work with the unit, that's not silly. That's important. So it's just as well that your old robes aren't gone – take a look at those Kir, all the stains and marks are still there, you're just not used to finding them against a crimson backdrop."

Kir paused and stepped into the sunlight streaming through one of the few plain glass windows, examining his left sleeve in the light and feeling some of his tension leave, ridiculously enough. Because right there, just barely touching the new gold-edging of his old black trim, was the dog-shaped mutli-layered blood stain he'd never been able to get out. As if spotting that had made the others appear from nothing, his eyes were finally able to pick out the few carefully mended tears, the re-sewn hems, the occasional patch. They were harder to see, eye drawn to the brilliant red and gold and black rather than the faint discolorations, but still there.

These were still his in a way he hadn't realized was important to him until he'd thought them gone.

"Uniforms are important," Anur murmured, answering Kir's unspoken sheepishness, "They're symbols, and yours just symbolized a lot more. Now, where are we heading, exactly?"

"I was thinking we'd head for the records hall, see if I can find some texts I squirreled away from the main archives," Kir shrugged, "They might still be there. Then we'll have to figure out quarters – my old ones should be fine, they're a bit smaller than the ones at the 62nd but we're not going to be spending much time there anyway."

"The bigger quarters were only really needed because we had evenings where we'd be doing nothing, and there was nowhere else to go," Anur agreed, "Smaller shouldn't be a problem. What sort of records are kept in your hall? And what all is this Hall for, anyway? That main hall was for what, conclaves? What are those? And why were you called Eldest when they were older than you? And - "

"Anur," Kir interrupted, amused, "One question at a time."

"Right, sorry," Anur laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as Kir opened the door to the records room, "Let me start again."