Thorold Hafnon played around with his teacup. The spoon made small whirls in the liquid as the three before him watched him and waited for him to speak. This was something his family had wanted for a while but had never gotten enough of a voice to make it happen.
"So, we overthrow the governments and…"
"No," interjected Edwin with a frown. They had been over this for twenty minutes now, and the Hafnon always tried to come back to this point. "We create a syndicate and enforce freedom of action for all healers."
"That is an adorable idea," Thorold snorted. "But it won't work. Just imagine what the rulers will do when a healer stands in their way. If you want to see this through the end, healer, you have to get your hands bloody."
Thorold regarded the idealistic youth before him. The man didn't want to hurt anyone, even though he did so occasionally. He was an ok fighter, if his eyes were crimson, the sign of a sire killer, and not a different color.