Sitting across Father McNamara was his apprentice, Maurice of Mitrowitz, Lightbringer to the Order of the Gracious Saint Massard of Mitrowitz, and novice Church Investigator; Unlike the good father, Maurice had spent the majority of the journey napping, his head either resting atop one of his shoulders or against the window frame, miraculously comfortable with the constant rattling of the carriage atop the tracks. It was perhaps not leaving the best of impressions on his new superior, but Maurice wasn't the sort of fellow who was particularly knowledgeable about leaving a good impression; for him, there wasn't much more to show than merit at work, and acting in good faith. And thus he could sleep. Or so he thought. Suddenly jolted forward out of his sleep and almost into the small table built under the window frame, Maurice barely managed to prevent his face getting bashed into the furniture and possibly causing him to require medical attention. His mind, it seemed, worked slower than his reflexes did; it took him a few seconds to comprehend what had just occurred, and by that time, his superior had already begun lecturing Maurice while loading his pistol in the meantime. Not wanting to stutter out a flimsy agreement and make himself look weak, Maurice merely nodded as his eyes darted out to where his oversized 'instrument case' had been. Thankfully for him, the sheer weight of its contents had kept the case from flying out of where Maurice had tucked it; with a firm grasp, Maurice pulled it from its spot as his superior this time lectured him on the dangers of brashness, and asked him to grab a lantern. As expected, Maurice complied. Outside, under the bright moonlight, Maurice found the lantern somewhat useless for a second, but deduced that it would be of use to find possible victims obscured by shadows. Plus, it was likely that the light sources inside the carriages were not of use anymore; from the voices that he could make out, things weren't going all too well inside them, and there was little doubt that somebody would have to go inside them to carry out the incapacitated or wounded. And there was no doubt that he would be amongst those 'somebodies'. It was, after all, his position's duty, not to mention the right thing to do; out of his immense strength, if not anything else. Although that would be delayed by incoming news, relayed by a fellow who looked like he'd just arrived from four hundred years ago. Sword, shield and mail, in this age... [i]"And they call me outdated,"[/i] he thought to himself. Listening to the prehistoric (because everybody knew that history did not matter before gunpowder) warrior's words, Maurice could not help but look at his superior, awaiting permission to go into the derailed carriages and begin hauling the victims out. "Shall I, master?" He asked, to expedite his superior's response. While he had respect for those above him in merit and degree, this was not time for following formal protocol. Not when innocent lives are at stake.