Compendium of Light: Prayers of the Argent Crusader
Most merciful hallowed Light
I have strayed from the path ;and committed wrongs
I have let you down, have thrown my promises away
Cleanse my soul,grant me a chance to restore my faith
Chasten me for my sins so I can return to the path of righteousness
Light, refresh and gladden my spirit
Purify my heart in your righteous flames
Illuminate my path.
Help me be the Guardian I am meant to be
Light, renew my strength so i can withstand this long vigil
With my strength renewed and my path illuminated I have no doubt
My cause is righteous and just
Holy Light, grant me the means an opportunity to do good
The resolution to persevere and
The grace to attain happily
Your blessing
I beseech thee, Light, to our prayers and deign to bless my sword arm
This sword with why thy servant wishes to be guided
That it may be a protection of Silvermoon, my people, my lands, and my fellows
May it strike fear, terror, and dread of those who fight against me For the Light!
Light, show mercy upon me
A humble knight in your service
I pray for your blessings
Forget me not in these trials
I pray that in all things great or small I carry your righteous flame within me
Let me always be worthy
Let me not forget the Light in good times or bad
Armour me in the armor of my righteousness
Give me my sword of truth
That I shall confound my enemies
And be to my people a true knight
Oh Light, in my hour of need, be with me
Let me never forget my sacred and holy vows
That I should not be prey unto demons and evils nor the dark things in this world
Let me be a beacon to those in distress, never allow me to forget my
obligation to my homeland and my people
Let me serve Quel’thalas and her people all the days of my life
Let me always remember the obligations I have taken upon me
Light, if I am able, let me serve Quel’thalas forever
If I ever, oh Light, turn from my people and the order
Let my name forever be cursed,
May my spurs be broken
And my grave unmarked
As it should be
Strength and mercy
Justice and retribution
Kindness and Mercy
Let me forget these not.
No weapon raised against me shall prosper
Their shields will break before my might
Every tongue that rises against me in judgment I will condemn
Their will broken
This is the fate of those that fight against the Light
Holy Light, Sacred Light
Let your blessings be upon my loved ones at home
Keep them warm, keep them safe
Help them and help me to feel that however seperated we are by distance,
Through the Light we are close to each other
Light! Condemn me not if I fall into error
Light! Lay not a burden greater than I have strength to bear
Blot out my errors and grant me forgiveness
Have mercy on me
You are my shield
Help me against those who would stand against me
The first half of the following is RP logs between myself and @azriah, huge thanks to her for helping me out with the story.
Laralienne steps through the camp with her head held high, her armor catching the evening light as she crosses the frozen earth. When she spots her target, she approaches with an impassive expression, merely a nod of acknowledgement until she's close enough to carry on conversation comfortably. "Lady Truefeather." She says, touching her fist to her chest in salute before standing at military rest in front of the woman. "I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. Especially with the current situation."
Ellasha waited patiently for Emberwood with hands folded at parade rest. Her chartreuse gaze wandered, sweeping across the bustle of the camp in idle thought until her attention landed on the one she was to meet. She returned the salute smoothly and gave the woman a nod in greeting. "Of course Emberwood, how do you fare?"
Laralienne dips her head into a subtle bob of a nod, not that that really seems to provide an answer. "Better after some rest. The medics said I merely suffered from some kind of backlash in that temple. I've been training and studying to ensure that my defenses are tighter against this new threat's particular brand of magical energy. And yourself? I understand you got out of there unscathed, right?"
Ellasha felt her lips tighten slightly at the thought of that failed endeavor, and her posture shifted minutely. A slight frown dawned and then dissipated from her brow. "It is well that you avoided deeper injury; we need all the strength we can get in this. It is wise of you to choose to hone your skills." To Laralienne's question, she nodded. "Aye, I oversaw the retreat."
Laralienne nods, her own shoulders shifting slightly, her fingers brushing over the tome with the purple spiral at her waist before returning to rest position. "I'm grateful for that. I imagine it was a difficult order to give and, for once, appreciate that kind of choice being taken out of my hands." There's a ghost of a smile that threatens the edges of her lips, though it's lost as quickly as it appeared. "At any rate, it's on that note that I asked you to meet. I... Think it would be in the best interest for both myself and our people if I sought to rejoin the Blood Knights. And I would like your sponsorship in doing so, if you would give it." The request is delivered with a tone overly blunt even for the more militaristic of Sin'dorei, reminiscent more of the Draenei the Sunguard has encountered in the past than a fellow elf.
Ellasha gave a little puff of air out of her nose at the thought of the retreat and ducked her head in a short nod, electing to not comment further on the matter. She looked searchingly at Laralienne as the other began to frame her request, hearing her out with open regard. "I must ask, I am curious after this question of 'rejoining' - were you a member of the Blood Knights before?"
Laralienne nakedly watches Ellasha for a reaction, so when a negative one doesn't come, there's the faintest shift into relaxation at her stance. "I wasn't sure if you'd read my file, I didn't want to assume either way. Yes." Her jaw tightens a little, one of her ears twitching as her cadence moves back toward the more standard of military fare. "Allow me to explain my whole record then. I initially joined the militia at the Broken Bulwark before the defeat at the Lich King's hands. After the Broken Bulwark fell, I defected from the militia and went south to join the Scarlet Crusade. I was among them for a few years before defecting and returning to Silvermoon to join the Blood Knights. I served under the Sunsworn for a few years before we were assigned to assist the Auchenai on Draenor. With the approval of my commander, I defected and stayed on Draenor to join a sect of the Auchenai called the Order of the Spiral. Thirty years with them and I believe two here, I came back through the recently opened portal. I stood at the Broken Bulwark as we defeated Dame Everleigh and have since served with the Sunguard, leading the-" *finally* she pauses for a moment, an indiscernible look coming over her face. "Blazing Dawn company."
Ellasha schooled her features into the impenetrable neutrality that could come only with the experience of having been a Royal Guard. She listened in contemplative repose, observing Laralienne's face as she spoke. For a few passing moments after the exposition, silence held the reins between them - a contrast to the bustle of the camp at large.
Laralienne delivers her record without emotion in voice or on her face. It is merely a report, reading a file that could be anyone else's as much as hers. When the silence comes, she doesn't seem uncomfortable by it, nor does she seek to fill it. She just waits.
"An interesting tale, to be sure. I am curious, however. How could I expect you to uphold commitment to the Blood Knight Order - and at that, The Sunguard furthermore - if you've demonstrated such a history of defection? I wonder after any underlying common denominators in these instances."
"To be perfectly blunt, my lady, you can't."
Lara answers plainly, punctuating it with another faint bob of her head. "The common denominator, there, is that I followed my conscience in all but the first case. My life's work, my purpose, is to root out and destroy the most severe threat to all life and the natural order of things: necromancy. I joined the Crusade because I was young and stupid and saw no other way. I left because I saw their evil for what it was. I left the Order because I felt the Light's calling, felt the actualization of my purpose. I left there because the world was being overrun by the same zealotry I saw in the Crusade." She takes a breath here, fingers drumming lightly against the top of her palm. "I can tell you that I will serve my home, the Order, and the Sunguard as long as I'm not asked to betray that purpose. Though I will stand by my morals at any cost. I just... Believe that what the Blood Knights have become, what the Sunguard is, will align with those morals."
Ellasha decidedly permitted, then, some expression of her thoughts on her features, exhibited at first by the slight furrow of her brows and squint of her eyes with Laralienne's opening line. However, the frown eased somewhat as the other gained momentum in her answer, echoing many of the same points Ellasha often found within herself. After a time, she spoke, choosing her words with some deliberation. "I must admit, it was my first instinct to immediately refuse you. However, as you expanded upon your thoughts, I saw the answer that I felt had been missing on the question of your allegiance. I see now that your commitment is not to the lawful brand of an organization, but to your own morals - and that, I think, embodies the words of my house - Glory in Devotion - better than an empty oath sworn with a vacant heart."
"I will consider this sponsorship, Emberwood. But first, I must ascertain your skill by hand. Will you face me in a duel?"
Laralienne finally allows the faintest smile, as though the very appearance of expression on Ellasha gave her permission to do so. "I agree. I'm long past making empty oaths, my lady. I don't give an oath now unless I do it with the entirety of my soul." She's already pulling her shield to her arm, letting it hang for a moment before setting it on the ground, followed a moment later by the ever-carried flail. in exchange, she takes up one of the nearby glaives, weighing it in her hand before returning her attention to Ellasha. "Gladly. Though I do hope the day's training will provide as warmup rather than providing weakness."
Ellasha allowed a tiny smirk to curve the corners of her lips as she glanced over her shoulder toward where Lara found alternative weapons. Unsheathing her own ranseur, she gave it an experimental movement to field her grip and then turned to the other. "Win or yield, it is of no importance. I wish only to face you directly to see what you are made of."
Laralienne steps over to an open area of the camp, readying the weapon and nodding to her commander. "Good. I wouldn't expect any less."
Ellasha took in deep gulps of the frigid Thalassian in the wake of the spars, reaching up to push errant locks of hair off her sweat-shining features. "You did well for yourself, Emberwood." She said amiably. Ellasha slung her ranseur back over her shoulder and removed her visor, letting her features breath in the cool air.
Laralienne pulls herself back to her feet in what is borderline miraculous, though the woman does have a bit of a reputation for coming back from the very brink. Using her shield as an aid, she rises back to her feet, stowing her shield on her back and wiping some blood from a busted lip. "Thank you, my lady. And you proved, as always, why you are the one leading our charge."
Ellasha gave a rare smile for that, and made no move to offer to heal the minor injuries sustained in honorable combat. "That you still find it in you to stand and tell me this in and of itself speaks of your strength."
"So it is that I will accept your request to sponsor your membership in the Blood Knights. Enter knowing that it is upon my name that you stake your honor."
Laralienne ducks her head, testing the weight on her legs before simply nodding. "I am many things, Lady Truefeather. I like to think my resilience is one of my more admirable traits." At the acceptance, though, she stands up a little straighter, setting her shoulders with obvious pride. "Thank you, my lady. I will approach my responsibility with a true understanding of that weight. I know on my honor that I will not let you down."
Ellasha inclined her chin, letting her approval manifest on her countenance. "Very well then. May the Light of the Sun illuminate your path in this undertaking. I will send the relevant documentation to Silvermoon."
Laralienne holds her fist to her chest again. "And may the Light ever guide you as well." She turns, starting to walk back in the direction she came before stopping short. There's a moment of silence where Lara seems to be... Perhaps considering, perhaps working up to something... And then finally she says, in a tone far more grave than what she'd used up until this point, "Thank you." And without waiting for an answer, she disappears into the crowded camp.
Ellasha smiled after the Blood Knight to be, merely nodding her head in turn.
It had been a long shot, the trip back to Silvermoon to check her old storage. It had been 30 years for her, after all, and so much can change in three decades. Why would they have not cleaned out her chest after thirty years? And yet…
It was still taking Lara time to really understand - rather, to internalize - the fact that it had been only a few years on Azeroth. It’s much more understandable that her belongings would last the few years of her disappearance and still be sitting right there in a forgotten corner of the Blood Knight barracks. It was like opening a time capsule, a concentrated dose of her younger years splayed out in the open locker, far less dusty and deteriorated as it should have been. The feeling of the familiar metal in her fingers, the sight of the old black and red… It choked her nearly to the point of tears.
But of course, Laralienne Emberwood would never have that.
The ceremony, then, is private, little more than a handing over of her letter and a swearing of her old oath once more. Her armor is donned in solitude as well, a ritual all of her own that had been carried out time and time again a lifetime prior. Each piece, each strap carries with it a rush of memories, an explosion of past experiences pushed into the recesses of the mind all to come back in this one moment.
And then… And then, finally, is the ranseur. It was easily half the weight she’d remembered it to be, little more than a toothpick compared to the massive warhammers she had trained with on Draenor. But this was to be her weapon once more, this would be her instrument in restoring peace and goodness and life to Quel’thalas.
When Laralienne returns to the Sunguard camp, it’s not simply as a errant knight, a wayward warrior adrift in this or other worlds. It’s not simply as the child of the Emberglades, leading a group of scrappy, ragtag knights fighting for justice.
Snow crunching under careful bootfalls breaks up the monotonous shink of metal sliding against whetstone, a blast of cold cutting through the otherwise warm tent as a flap is opened. Lara doesn’t look up from her work, still dragging the lance’s tip against the whetstone. She takes one more handscoop of the water before her to dump on the stone, breaking for a moment the slight shimmer left by the liquid’s sanctification before it returns to gently rolling with the heat provided by the small fire just below. Just enough to keep it from becoming a cauldron of ice.
“My Lady?” The voice is timid, soft, unsure of its welcome. All things that Lara realizes too late to soften the initial harshness of her words.
“I’m not a lady.” She doesn’t mean it to be so harsh, really. A lifetime around the brusque Draenei seems to have taken a toll on her tone among other things. She turns, then, finally setting the whetstone aside and standing. Her guest’s golden eyes meet hers in fear and confusion, a look hidden moments later by her gaze darting to the floor. When Lara speaks, it’s with careful attention to her tone and a hand gently resting on the girl’s cloaked shoulder. “What I mean to say is that I’m not nobility. If you’re feeling formal, ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’ is fine, if not, simply Lara or even Captain will suffice.” She can’t very well use the name given to her by the Order. Not here. Not yet.
“Oh. S-sorry. Ma-’am. I just spoke with Lady Truefeather. She said to stop by her tent this evening, that she would have time to talk.” As the girl’s eyes come up, they pause on Lara’s arm. It had been so long since Lara had really had to pay attention to her tattoo, that it takes a few beats before she realizes the stylized, blood red ‘L’ on her forearm is what’s caught the young woman’s attention.
Moving too quickly to hide the discomfort, Lara’s hand retreats, returning uselessly to her side before she puts her back to the woman once more to take up the stone again. “Thank you, Marla. That was all, then. Don’t let me keep you from training with the others.”
For a few passes of metal against stone, Lara believes that perhaps that noise has covered the sound of footsteps leaving, though she’s proven wrong when again that soft voice catches her ear.
“Is it true, then, that you were in the Scarlet Crusade?”
For just a second, Lara’s heart drops into her stomach. It’s no secret - of course it’s not. Many of the company lived in the Emberglades, a small few served with her before she first left. Still, it had been a nice delusion that she might have been able to escape that history.
“I don’t particularly hide it. Yes, I was in the Crusade. That was many years ago.” She doesn’t turn as she answers. It wouldn’t do to see the loss of faith Marla undoubtedly had on her face at that moment. Instead, the ensuing silence is filled once again with the shink shink shink of her meditative task.
Lara doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe. She can’t even think for what feels like an eternity.
“If you’re here to kill me,” she starts, slowly, once the ability to form coherent thought finally returns, “I warn you that the others will likely rise to my defense. Additionally, I-”
“No no no!” Marla’s voice is panicked, hurried feet carrying her forward before she stops short and seems to reconsider the proximity. “It’s not that at all. Honestly he was kind of an asshole. You… You killed him. But you saved my life, in a way.” Now Lara turns to face the girl, searching her face for some kind of deception.
“I didn’t recognize you at first, but I know it was you. We were outside Andorhal, my cousin was from Dalaran, researching the curse of undeath. I was… Was helping him. Keep him safe with his research team. You… You and your people - err, the other Crusaders. You struck us both down as we tried to run. They… They tortured him and…” Marla’s legs begin to shake slightly, her eyes going hazy just for a second before she finds renewed focus on Lara’s face. “You put him down. I don’t remember what you said, but I recognized the mercy. And then against orders, you… You set me free when you saw I could channel the Light.”
The entire scene, meanwhile, plays frame by frame in Lara’s head. Of course she remembers, how could she not? Every death at her hands was etched deeply in her memory, especially those of her kin. It had been, to her, more than thirty years outside their clutches now, and still she remembers every one without truly being able to find forgiveness within herself. Still, none of that shows on the stoic face turned to Marla.
“I ran into the Scarlets a few times. I saw them enough to…” Marla cants her head to the ceiling as though the fabric there holds some answer for the words she’s trying to form. “They always looked so angry. So smug. So self-righteous. You didn’t. Your face stayed with me for so long because your eyes looked so… So sad. Like you were in so much pain. Like you-”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your cousin.” Lara’s gaze is away from Marla once more, her neck twisting so quickly that her ponytail smacks against her companion’s hand. “And the part I played in it. Is there anything else I can do for you, miss?” The hardness of her first words returns, now as a shield rather than reflex.
The girl doesn’t quite know how to react, not at first. Her footsteps carry her toward the exit once more, though she hesitates as she stumbles over a reply. “N- No, that is. No, just…” When she stops, it’s to draw a breath, though one not too shaky to calm her nerves. “Some of the others- I was wondering why you would take us in. Most everyone else wants us dead for following Merik, but not you. I think I get it now.”
Finally placing the nearly over-sharpened weapon aside, Lara stands, pulling her sleeves down and crossing the small space toward her armor. “Everyone deserves a chance for retribution. An opportunity to repent for decisions they made under duress and to seek redemption.” Her thick, golden gauntlets, freshly polished, snap into place before she flexes her fingers into the claws. “Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me, I have my own to seek.”
Ready your troops. We will begin the Siege in two hours.
Within the walls of the field infirmary, the sounds of the resting wounded were swallowed by the hiss of winter winds. In their sleep, the soldiers breathing was even and soft—chests rising and falling with the peace only magically induced recovery might bring. Peace reigned in the darkness.
Elleynah moved down the row, step muffled by the layers of rugs that kept out the chill of a newly frozen earth. She paused by a cot, lifting the pinned board, scanning it with care as her single eye glowed in the doused-lamp twilight. Letting it drop, she moved to the next cot.
Because you asked.
Midstep, she froze. The words were as clear as if they’d been spoken against her ear; as clear as the day in the snows she’d heard them said. Lowering her foot to the ground, she closed her eye. Took a step. Come back, she’d said. She’d made him promise it, once.
Another chart read; another bed passed. A wind whipped through the protective sheets that covered the walls.
A flash of light, hot and white, rained burning steel over the battlefield. Sederis was no stranger to being on the receiving end of artillery, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. All around him, good men, the strongest of his unit, were being torn to shreds without having a chance at prove their worth in combat. A waste. A damn waste.
He had clustered his pikes on the ridge, slaughtering every knight that attempted to push through their right flank. If Townsend’s knights broke through, Sederis knew that the sort of damage they’d be capable of. Everyone was counting on him to hold. So he did. Through noise, light, and the rain of fire and steel. He held.
Until they began to fall upon the banner of Grand Arcanist.
Laralienne felt hollow. The bards’ songs and soldiers stories all told of the feeling after a battle, the swell in one’s chest that came from a struggle well fought, the pride and purpose in victory. She’d never shared that experience, not against a foe of ideological differences. There was no joy in this. There was no peace to be found in the slaughter of thinking, feeling, breathing people. There was merely an empty pit in her chest, a vacancy that consumed her as the surge of battle finally ebbed from her veins. Perhaps the others could find rest, but Laralienne...
A glob of blood-filled spit leaves Laralienne’s mouth, landing in the rocky dirt at her feet and mixing into a ruddy brown mess amongst the slate crags underfoot. That color ingrains itself into her mind’s eye, just as it had ingrained itself over the past- how long had it even been? It felt like weeks, but even with the Light fueling her, Laralienne was entirely sure she couldn’t have lasted for weeks. Maybe it had been days. Maybe only one. It’s a question she’s not entirely sure she needs answered as her gaze moves to the plane of the valley below, the field a muddy expanse of that same reddish brown that stains the earth near her feet.
There had been so much blood. Most of it hadn’t even been her own, shed from Humans who wanted her dead simply for the castle which she defended or worse still the members of her own unit, lost in sprays that signaled the end of a life or simply from clutching a near-broken form to her chest, pulling it from the line of fire before she simply rushes right back in herself. It was not their time. Lara believed that like she believed in the Light, like she believed in the ever-flowing Spiral of Life. She had to believe that her people were not going to die that day, otherwise what would she have to fight for?
This place hadn’t been her home for some time, yet, the people of the Emberlight never really believed that, not the ones whose opinions mattered. The Wayward Knight returned, time and time again, helmet in her hands and asking to once more join the ranks of the people who raised her. Each time they welcomed her back with open arms, ignoring the pilgrim or heretic she had become in the intervening time. It wasn’t duty she fought for, nor honor, nor even explicitly the Light that day. It was the people who never let her be forsaken, the people who she wasn’t going to let fall.
The metal of her greaves scrapes against the stone as she finally, for the first time since the horn first called her from her bed, sits in that little rocky outcropping. Belatedly, her metal-covered fingers move to her chin, wiping away a fresh trickle of blood from some injury she didn’t know she’d obtained. It’s only as she pulls her hand back, inspecting the sight of it on her gauntlets that the personal cost of the battle begins to set in. Every muscle in her body had been burning for hours, aching with each swing of her flail, each crunch of metal or bone reverberating through her arm and rattling into her joints. But now… Now everything is just numb. The chill of the night, colder the past week than they’d ever been, clings to the outside of Laralienne’s armor and mirrors inside, her muscles becoming useless the moment they finally stop working.
She didn’t know how they’d won. By all rights, this was a losing battle, one that was meant to soften the Alliance but not defeat, to slow them so the rangers could harry them as they moved through the Glades, finally allowing them to muster a defense or, at worst, remain prisoners among a hopefully short occupation. Laralienne didn’t exactly relish the idea of being used as a bargaining chip, but she’d spent enough time around Humans to understand them, to know them intrinsically. Occupation was better than death for the people of the Emberglades - though death might be preferable if any of the invaders recognized her for who she once was.
Still, it seemed that neither was what the Light had in store for her or the Emberglades that day. There was no mistake to be made - the victory at the Broken Bulwark was pyrrhic at best. Moving through the molasses of post-adrenalin haze, her eyes fall on the ruins of the great castle. It wasn’t the first time the castle had fallen - Light knows it might not even be the last - but the last time Laralienne had stared at its shattered form, her life, and the lives of her countrymen, had altered course forever.
Her flail sits unattended at her side, still caked in the remnants of an impossible fight. She didn’t dare check, in that moment, for the rifts in her armor, the bends and dings and impacts that would remind her of her mortal fate were things just a little different, were the Light not watching her in every moment on the field. The Light had watched most of them, but still Lara had watched childhood friends cut down under the fury of the Alliance war machine. Each death would be repaid in spades, she’d decided then, for if the living truly wished to bring war against the living and not their true enemy, then she would show them what fighting the people of Quel’thalas truly meant.
Again and again the knights crashed against the flanks of the Alliance host. “You will not fall,” she’d told the men and women at her side as they clustered behind the rise of a hill, “you will not draw your last breath until you’ve taken two dozen Alliance soldiers with you.” And sure enough, they took that and more. The castle had held for so long, longer than it ever should have, which left the focus for Dame Everleigh’s forces divided. The Blood Knights of the garrison took that chance, held it close, and made the most of it.
It fell, of course, because the Broken Bulwark was not meant to stand against an entire host, but Laralienne and the Men of the Black Banner would not let that be the final word. The Alliance found themselves indefensible as they tried to take what they had turned into ruins, slowly becoming encircled by the riders who dared not cede the Emberglades. Lara could remember the look in the Dame’s eyes, the surprise as her knights came crashing into their flank one more time, the fury at a defeat that should have been little more than a notch in her belt.
Now all that was left of their hatred and their fury was a field of mud covered in a thick layer of gore and death and spent equipment. The sounds… The roar of battle always drowned out the horror, kept quiet the screams and moans of pain, but after the battle… That was where Lara knew how to work. Amidst the remnants of war there left the dead and dying, the sounds and sights and smells of visceral savagery, Lara had found her peace, her strange calm that seemed as hard-won as this very battle. So many down there needed rest, Lara knew, and even as her muscles scream for her to rest, she manages to pull herself to her feet and start down toward the field.
“Lara!” Savedon’s voice cuts through the sound of death from the field below, his armor clanking heavily as he jogs with what little strength he has left to catch up to his childhood friend. “We… We did it. You did it. So how about it, then? Have you finally atoned? Ready to just… Be home?” He asks with a crooked smile, one she’d seen on his face hundreds of times before.
A little scoff leaves Lara’s throat, her gauntleted and still-bloody hand coming to rest on his cheek for a moment, gracing him with a sad smile before turning to continue toward the battlefield. “If there’s one thing I learned from what I’ve done, one teaching that sticks with me to this day is that atonement is lifelong, Sav. It’s never past tense.”
“Where are you going?” He asks, incredulously. “We… Won, you can rest! Just… Rest a moment?”
“There’s a castle to rebuild and a retaliation to prepare for but more importantly,” she answers as she pulls her holy book from its chain at her waist, a glittering purple spiral etched into the cover, “there are dead to attend to.”
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