Piera returned to the Sanctuary, dropping her broken equipment on a table and collapsing in an exhausted pile on one of the couches. Machiavelli is waiting for her and settles in on a nearby seat. "You did well, given the circumstances."

    Piera looks over, pulls her hood down and straightens up. "Maestro, I have seen what our own enemies can become... how can we fight against an enemy that keeps coming back stronger and stronger?"

    Machiavelli ponders, rubbing his chin before standing. "I have two things for you... some advice, and a gift." He moves out of the room, and returns a moment later with a package. "First the advice... what is our Creed?"

    "Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."

    "Correct... do you know what that means?"

    "I... don't. Maestro."

    "Think about it. I cannot tell you, only point towards the path. You must find the wisdom on your own. One thing I /can/ give you; however, is this."

    The man sets the package down on a table, and steps away. Piera rises achily and moves toward it, glancing at the man who nods.

    She opens the package, and takes a halfstep back.

    "Congratulations, Servitore. You are a Recluta no more. The first step on a long road, but many have failed to take it."

    Piera reaches into the box, and lifts out a finely crafted light breast plate. A metal plate over the heart, and chainmail covering the rest of the tunic-sized armour. "Thank you, Maestro. I will wear it in service of the Creed."