Chapter 1: Setting up for a journey

A diminutive woman in her late twenties, Sister Lainné Mayhrin was pretty if not outright beautiful. Auburn hair made a halo around a finely carved face with heavy lidded dark eyes and a very expressive mouth.

She wore plain gray wool – a hooded travel cloak, a dress with a single thread of green embroidery at the neckline and stout riding boots covered in dust. A small dager in a leather sheath was tucked behind her belt.

“ Sister Lainné? Sister Lainné?! Look what I found for you!”

The girl tugged at the woman’s arm pressing something into her hand, before she had time to see what it was. A small river pebble, shaped almost like a star and well polished by the flowing of water. Smiling, Lainné brushed a rebel wisp of auburn hair behind the ear then rewarded the child with a hug and a motherly kiss.

“Well, thank you, Alys. It is very nice…!”

The orphans had surrounded her as soon as she made her appearance in Cathedral Square, none much older than ten, all cheering and laughing and fighting over her attention with little gifts and stories of recent pranks.

“Sister Lainné!”The boy literally landed in front of her – he had missed the last two steps of the stairs. His arms were filled with white peaceblooms and he was flushed with eagerness as he elbowed his way through the other children.

Lainné’s laughter was all chimes; she accepted the flowers and gave him kiss as well. The boy blushed even worse but she pretended not to notice, tilting her head to look at Matron Nightingale, who sat on top of the stairs. Her mouth twisted in a disapproving expression each time she eyed at the basket of sweets and toys the younger woman had placed on the stairs.

“You’re spoiling them…”

“I remember all too well what it means…” Lainné’s expression darkened for a moment, then she found again a soothing smile. “Too grow up without a family, I mean.”

Matron Nightingale gave her a wry smile. She was a woman in her fifties wearing her gray hair in a neat bun and a clean albeit very simple dark blue dress.

“I know you do”, she conceded. Disapproval did not vanish though. The matron was a woman of rigid principles. In her rule book sweets and presents were for Winter’s Veil. “Come on children, you should be back in class now!”

The smiles on their little faces faded away as Matron Nightingale picked up the basket of sweets and motioned them to get back inside the orphanage. Lainné patted curly heads and kissed upturned foreheads before the Matron had a chance to heard everyone in. They trudged heavily on the stairs and disappeared inside the vast hall of the building with long glances over their shoulders.

Waving discreetly to Matron Nightingale, Lainné started towards the priest quarters lined on the left hand of the cathedral.

The letter on the table was the first thing she saw as she entered her room at the third floor. It was small and nestled straightly under the roof - not very comfortable, but Lainné was fond of it as it was. Humility was one of the priestly virtues after all – if not the single important one. Kicking off her shoes, she carefully put the flowers next to the folded piece of paper, then took a small vase from the drawer and filled it with water from the pitcher on the wash-stand.
Only after the delicate peaceblooms were placed in the vase, did she pay any attention to the letter.
The seal was plain, unmarked wax; beneath there were only two lines, hastly scribbled.

“Daughter,
I would see you as soon as possible, at the usual place, for matters of utmost importance. ”

The message was not signed and bore no other detail, yet its meaning was plain.
Half an hour later she was crossing Cathedral Square heading towards the park. She had kept the plain woolen cloak and pulled the hood low over her head. In the eerie light of the dusk the park lay quiet except for the occasional passer by. Lainné rounded a corner and came to a more secluded part of the gardens, with a small bench almost hidden by well trimmed vegetation. There was a man there seemingly waiting. Quickly closing the distance between them, Lainné fell to her knees with a murmured salute.

“ As you have summoned me, so I come, your Highness.”

“How many times I have told you there is no need for that?” The man sounded amused. Of medium height and age he wore a simple gray cloak too, that did not really manage to cover the white embroidered robe underneath. “Or I should be calling you Sister Mayhrin as well? For how long have we known each other, Lainné?”

She grinned as she accepted the hand that was offered and rose back to her feet.

“Sometimes it seems ages. Sometimes it seems only yesterday…”

“You are much to young too speak like that, child” he scolded her. “But then, it was before the church of Stormwind was restored.” He looked at the Cathedral; its majestic shape with tall marble arches dominated the city. “Maybe indeed we are getting old, my daughter.”

He had a soft way of speaking and from that close he didn’t look at all dominating, rather what he was : a good natured man with a warm smile touching his lips now and then. That face, with strong lines could have as well belonged to a farmer of Goldshire or a craftsman in the Old Towne. Yet it was not by any kind of mistake that he wore the white-and-golden garments of the Archbishopal office which the woolen cloak could not hide too well.

“ Time has no patience with us anymore, your Highness…Father.” There was a tightness about Lainné’s face as she spoke, even though her lips wore a tinge of smile.

Archbishop Benedictus sighed as he took her hands in his and made her sit by his side.

“I wouldn’t send you off again so soon after your return if the need were not great”, he said, touching her shoulder comfortingly. “But I have had news from Soutshore…It seems the Syndicate have established a base to the north of Tarren Mill.”

Lainné grimaced. Syndicate and Tarren Mill in the same sentence was enough to give anyone a headache.

“What is it about, Father?”

“Henry Maleb has placed a bounty on the heads of the Syndicate Members. No wonder why. But then a week ago some adventurer showed up to collect his reward with three of their badges and an encrypted letter he pretended to have found in the pocket of a Syndicate thug. The Magistrate consulted the local Loremaster, and since none of them was arriving to any conclusion about the letter, they sent it to Ironforge, to Prospector Stormpike…”

“Who happens to be a great expert in ciphers”, Lainné completed with a smile. She had had her own encounter with the stout archeology professor…

The Archbishop only nodded.
“Stormpike deciphered it and sent the messenger back to Southshore in a hurry. As engrossed as he may be in digging up the past, he knows a threat when it pokes him in the nose. Magistrate Maleb was at least… unsettled by the contents of the letter… He took whatever measures he could…even conscripted some mercenaries to hunt down this Nagaz fellow that signs the letter…but meanwhile he was wise enough to send me a copy, for advice. And here it is…”

Benedictus concluded, ever so softly, pulling out a scroll of paper from his pocket and handing it to Lainné. She took it and read it carefully, then once again, from the start, frowning more heavily as the meaning became clearer.

“Now”, the Archbishop said with a shrug, “this may not make much sense for Magistrate Maleb, but after the news you brought from Kalimdor…”

“Argus Wake”, Lainné murmured softly. “They may be connected to the Shadow Council.”
“I fear so as well. Light, this is exactly what we lacked right now, if you ask me…!” Benedictus shrugged again, working a painful knot between his shoulders. His voice had a sad accent to it when he spoke once more.

“So you understand why I want you to leave immediately for Arathi Highlands and find out whatever you can on this matter.”

Lainné nodded quietly; still studying the paper he had given her…it was the third time she read.

“Brother Kristoff has prepared the things you may need on your way…including some gold for the journey.”

“There was no need to…” Lainné protested.

“It is enough I am sending you to face danger… Sister Mayhrin” he mocked her bitterly. “Making arrangements for your journey is the least I can do.”

She knew him all to well to try and convince him otherwise.

“Yes, Father”, she said, sitting up. She felt tired. Maybe she would get a good night’s sleep before leaving this time…