The tent was quiet for the moment.
The last screaming patient had been carried out, and a new one hadn’t been brought in yet. Sionis’ pause lasted longer than usual, which prompted the Loremaster to stop preparing bandages and glance up at the mage.
“You can keep going,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
“Not really anything else to say about that,” Sionis replied. “The war was over.”
“The Third War. The greatest conflict our world had ever seen. All you have to tell me about is one battle that took place on one day?”
Sionis frowned. “Did you expect a grand story? I did as I was told that day. There was a drive for survival, a hunger to escape the fate that had befallen our people. I don’t have stories to share or memories to recall from that dark time. I marched, I fought, and at the end of the day, I was one of the lucky few that survived.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” the Loremaster replied before returning to his work on the bandages. “We have so few interviews from other survivors of the original battle at Mount Hyjal. As you know, many of them were killed when Theramore—”
The Loremaster paused suddenly.
Sionis, curious about the silence, followed the Loremaster’s stare to where he found a figure standing in the doorway. He wore silver armor with golden trim and blue accents. He was the shining example of a strong male soldier, complete with long blonde hair tied in a thick braid that ran down over his breastplate.
“Excuse me,” he said in a sheepish voice. “I… uh, well I’m here to speak with Sionis Sepher.”
Sionis raised a brow. The man looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. “I’m here,” he said.
“How can I help you?”
The man turned to Sionis and gave a wide smile.
Sionis couldn’t be certain, but it was almost like the moment the man grinned… the entire tent grew a little brighter.
“Hello, Sionis,” he said cheerily. “You probably don’t remember me. I was just a boy back then, of course, so I understand. Anyway—”
“Fÿnn?” Sionis asked aloud as his mind made the connection. This man, this armored glowing warrior, was a paladin. There were only a few paladins that Sionis would have known when they had been young.
The man’s grin grew ever wider. “Yes, Sir! It’s me.”
“That’s… impossible,” Sionis said, standing up and approaching the man. “I was told you were in Theramore when it was destroyed.”
Fÿnn frowned and the room darkened, just ever so slightly. “I was one of the officers that escorted the children to safety. Before we could return to help with the siege, well, I was too late.”
“Had you arrived to aid in the fighting, you would have been killed by the blast,” the Loremaster said honestly.
“I understand,” Fÿnn replied. “I do.”
“But that doesn’t make the hurting go away,” Sionis added on Fÿnn’s behalf. “I know what that feels like, Fÿnn, but I am very grateful to see you here today.”
“I still can’t believe it,” the paladin said, his voice picking up again. “It’s been so long. Tell me, how is Appoleon?”
“That old goon?” Sionis asked. “He’s a worgen now, of course, but aside from that little curse he’s actually quite well. He lives up in the North where he helps the Alliance keep the peace at the border with the undead.”
“A worgen?” Fÿnn asked. “What a story that must be.”
“Indeed,” the Loremaster replied. “I can share the details with you, if you’d like. I still have the scrolls.”
“So you’re a fully fledged paladin now, eh?” Sionis asked. “I’m impressed.”
“I try my best,” Fÿnn replied. “I’ve only recently seen any real combat.”
“The Light is with you?”
“Always,” Fÿnn replied. “I’ve been told I’m one of the best, or at least I have the potential.”
Sionis cracked a smile and then stood. “I suppose there’s someone you should meet.”
“Wait a minute, we’re not done,” the Loremaster said. “I’ve still got dozens of wounded.”
“I’ll be back momentarily, and then we can talk more and I’ll work more bandages. First, I need to take care of something.”
Sionis walked with Fÿnn at his side, down the long row of tents and toward Sentinel Hill where the healthy Alliance forces were preparing for what would likely be another assault from the demonic forces.
“Iliera,” he said loudly, approaching the crowd.
A moment later, from the mass of people, a tall draenei woman appeared, polished silver armor accented with purple glowing crystals covered her from neck to hoof, and braided brown hair was pulled back behind her blue horns.
“Sionis,” she said with a welcoming smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you remember the boy I told you about, the one that could use the Light?”
“On Theramore? Yes, the human boy.”
“Well, meet Fÿnn.”
Sionis gestured to the human and then to Iliera.
“Fÿnn, this is Iliera, paladin of the draenei and protector of the weak.”
“Nice to meet you,” Fÿnn said with a nervous laugh. “I’ve not met a lot of draenei.”
“She’s nice enough,” Sionis said with a playful wink. “Just don’t call her a space goat.”
Fÿnn blushed. “I would never!”
“Good,” Iliera replied coldly. “I’d hate to have to destroy you.”
Sionis watched Fÿnn practically shrink out of his armor.
“She’s joking,” he said.
“Yes, of course,” Iliera said, her warm smile returning. “I apologize. I am not very good with the human sarcasm.”
Fÿnn thawed. “That’s good to hear.”
“Now Fÿnn, Iliera here has a strong connection to the Light, like you. I was going to see if you wouldn’t mind letting her put you through the paces. She might be able to teach you a few new tricks. She’s got a lot of experience.”
Fÿnn started to look excited. “Really? You’d let me spar with an actual draenei paladin?”
Iliera nodded. “Of course.”
“Wow. This is amazing.”
Iliera chuckled. “Come along, young one.”
“I’m not young,” Fÿnn said firmly. “I’m twenty-two.”
“You’re young to her,” Sionis replied. “She’s like… a few millenia ahead of you.”
“Come along Fÿnn, Human of Theramore,” Iliera said, still grinning. “We’ve got training practice, and soon, more demons that will need to be slain.”
Fÿnn practically squealed as Iliera took his hand and guided him toward the crowd.
“It was great seeing you again, Fÿnn,” Sionis said with a final wave.
“You too!” Fÿnn replied. “We’ll talk soon!”
Back at the medical tent, Sionis found the Loremaster busy at work, mending more bones while the patient stared longingly at the ample bosom of the succubus that was currently using a charm on him.
“He really can’t feel anything?” the mage asked.
“Not sure,” the Loremaster replied. “If he can, he really doesn’t care, because he isn’t moving a muscle in protest to the pain.”
“Alright. Get back to work on threading those bandages with your magic. I had to use up most of them while you were gone.”
“Right,” Sionis replied, retaking his place beside the many bandages.
“Impressive meeting Fÿnn again,” the Loremaster added without looking up from his work. “We were just talking about the boy earlier.”
“It was an interesting coincidence,” Sionis admitted. “Then again, Stormwind is throwing all of its soldiers at these invasions. It makes sense that he would be out here.”
“I suppose that’s true enough.”
“So where were we?” Sionis asked.
The Loremaster whistled and a moment later the young scribe came into the tent and took his seat next to the pile of scrolls.
“The end of the war,” the scribe said. “The mage was about to tell us what happened after the battle of Mount Hyjal.”
“Ah yes,” Sionis said casually, leaning back in his chair. “After the war…”