After conscripting him, the plague doctors brought Giradin to their local headquarters. By the look of it, the building had once been a monastery, but the monks were long gone.

Once he was inside, the doctors stripped Giradin naked, inspected him for any sign that he had the plague, and scrubbed him down with soap and vinegar, until his flesh was raw. They burned his old clothes and presented to him a sack cloth robe when they were done bathing him.

Leaving him no time to recuperate, they hurried him along to the meeting hall, where sat dozens of men in sack cloth robes. As Giradin peered around the room, he saw Moors and Jews among his new brethren. The Moors, in particular, were a wonder to his eyes, for he had never seen a man with black skin before.

"Don't stare." The voice of the doctor to Giradin's left made him jump, and he turned to face the old man with a gray beard. "The Moors don't like it when you stare. Come to think of it, no one does."

"I... I'll try to remember that," said Giradin.

The meeting hall's door opened again, and all present rose to their feet as there entered the room a tall man with shoulder-length, dark hair in curls. The man looked to be in his early twenties, and wore a stern expression on his face. "You may be seated," he said, and all present returned to their seats. Giradin couldn't be sure, but the man's voice sounded like the leader of the plague doctors who recruited him.

The man with dark hair cleared his throat and spoke, "Good evening, brethren. As many of you know, we have a new initiate among us. Giradin is his name. Who will handle his training?"

A balding man in his mid thirties raised his hand, "I'll make sure he learns well."

The man with dark hair nodded to him. "Thank you, Father Hewlett," then turned his attention to Giradin. "I am Grand Master Melcher Fitz. Welcome to the Order of St. Ida of Louvain, more commonly known as 'The Plague Doctors' or 'The Crows.' How much do you know about our order already?"

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Giradin shrugged. "All I've heard is that you try to stop plague from spreading and everyone's afraid of you."

"Both of these are true," said the Grand Master. He crossed the room and took his seat at the head of the meeting hall, just under a stained-glass window with the image of St. Ida in blues and reds. St. Ida held a baby over a bathtub, and a halo encircled the baby's head. When Giradin got a better look at the baby, he realized it had a surprisingly adult face. "The Pope--" Melcher continued, "--Has ensured that wherever our order exists we have the authority we need. Or, at least, his Holiness has tried his best. Out here, on the edges of Christendom, not all lords and kings are as cooperative as they should be."

Melcher pointed to the stained glass window behind him, "On her deathbed, St. Ida warned of the coming of a terrible plague. She said that she received a vision, a prophecy from Jesus Christ Himself, warning us of a disease which would wipe out all of Christendom, unless we did what was necessary to prevent it. She said that the Jews would be our greatest allies in preventing the Plague, and that they would teach us ways to prevent its spread. Understand this, Giradin, if we fail at our mission, the Black Death will sweep across the land, until there isn't a home in Christendom that hasn't lost a child to the Devil's disease. The Pope has charged us with doing whatever it takes to prevent the Black Death."

Melcher raised an index finger in front of his face and his eyes pierced Giradin's. "But, you must understand, if you hope for thanks in this life you will not get it. No one truly understands our mission, or what we hold at bay. All they see are terrifying men in masks, all clad in black, who do things they can never comprehend. Commoners have cursed us, bishops have petitioned the Pope to disband our order, and lords have withheld our payment from us. When we come to the cities, the peasants throw rotten vegetables at us, or dump chamberpots over our heads. But we must press on, Giradin, no matter what they say or do, no matter how horrible the persecution may get. The people of Noah's time mocked him as he built his ark, but none of us would be here today if it were not for him. We are as sons of Noah, preparing for the destruction of the world."