We don't say we're of the light, we don't say we're of the darkness. We won't kill, unless we are absolutely FORCED to. Each time we have to, it breaks our hearts to the core. We are an army who goes in to save lives, not take them. And we have one Mantra. What would Wraithvine do? -- Anon Guest
They carried weapons. They wore armour. They marched in time as they made their way from place to place. They had regimented camps when they settled and each member had a rank. Just like the military. Anyone observing them might assume that they were a troop of mercenaries. Some minor lords have even tried to hire them.
That's when the General has to carefully explain that they're the Army of Mercy. Their mission is not to kill, but to go into danger and bring others out of it. They rescue children and the wounded from war zones. They form chains of helpers to excavate people from landslides or collapses. They help people escape disasters, even if that escape is providing prevention, cures, or medicine for their illnesses.
"What do you mean, you don't fight in wars?" demanded a minor lord who was slow of learning. "You're wearing armour!"
"Yes," repeated General Pax. "We wear armour because we go into danger in order to help people out of it. We would not be much good at that if we let fighting armies shoot us."
"You're carrying weapons," said the lord.
"We do need to defend ourselves from attackers," said General Pax. "It's not just soldiers shooting at us--"
"Other soldiers," corrected the lord, interrupting.
"It's also armed maniacs attempting to kill us, up close and personal," said General Pax with a glare. Armour against the arrows, swords and shields against swords. It's really rather simple. We also carry healing herbs, magical components, knowledge and skills."
"So do soldiers," said the lord that Pax was starting to think of as Lord Brickhead[1]. "Why won't you fight for me."
Pax took a deep breath, attempting to think of something that Lord Brickhead would be able to fit into his little square skull. "We're already engaged to battle misery, poverty, sickness, sorrow, and death. We cannot take on another contract."
"Ah. Why didn't you say so?" said Lord Brickhead. "Feel free to come back when you're done. I might have a job for you."
If Pax was any judge, Lord Brickhead might be the job sooner than he expected.
[1] This is the very polite version.
[Photo by Ansh Bhagania on Unsplash]
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