The Warden | A For Honor Fanfiction

Four on Watch

There were four on watch. That was all I could tell myself to keep me sane that night. I told myself, over and over again, that there were that many keeping us safe tonight. Our encampment was more of a small hideaway hole than a fort, the walls had long ago crumbled, and its rooms were caved in from falling earth. It was defendable, easily escapable, and most importantly, it was easy to miss in the starless night in which we found ourselves. But knowing there was even a chance he was out there, and that he had possibly started to form a band of his own, I could not shake my apprehension. There were four on watch tonight, and that didn't make me feel any safer.

"You should get some sleep." A voice pierced the inky black, one I recognized almost immediately. Mercy. I'd lost count how many times she had snuck up on me, and I'd long since given up trying to stop her. She was the only thing I could never keep track of. I adjusted my grip on my pole axe and turned my attention towards the source of the sound, her mask greeted me, lit only by the distant fire from within one of the cave ins. She slowly walked beside me and took her place by my side, both blades gripped tightly in her hands.

"I'm not tired. Besides, there are too many uncertainties to let my guard down. If O'Carrick really is out there, we must be ready, all of us." I responded. I had mourned my fallen brother the night after Svengard, I remember feeling conflicted over doing so. As Blackstone, we were always told death in battle was a noble end, and the ones that felled us were to be celebrated. Wolves one and all. Despite that, it had felt like such a wrong way for O'Carrick to face his last day, burning for something he hadn't fully understood. If he was alive, I knew he would harbor resentment for the legion. Mercy turned her attention away from me, instead peering out into the void.

"Any Warden could be wearing similar armor, Cross. O'Carrick was a simple man, and his armor reflected that. It's a trait everyone in his order shares. Rather, those who still believe in it." She observed. I followed her gaze into the night, sentries had just passed back into sight. A lieutenant rested a two handed longsword on his shoulder with one hand, holding a lit torch in the other. Behind him was a soldier, lazily swaying his sword at his side and letting his shield hang from his fingertips. Two more soldiers appeared on the opposite side, and the two groups passed by one another as their paths intersected. Four on watch.

I wondered just how much of a fight those four would put up against a group of bandits. More than enough, I thought. Untrained bandits were no match for members of the Blackstone legion, of that I was sure. Wolves or a bear might give them a greater challenge, maybe even maul one of them before they bested the beasts. Even then, I did not believe any would fall. Against Stone, they'd land maybe one good hit before he brought them down. He'd be tired, but eager to go on, a difficult problem to deal with, but manageable. Against O'Carrick? They'd be dead in a matter of seconds, and he'd be fully capable of marching on. I could best him, but not before he'd slaughter my remaining men. Four on watch, and it didn't seem nearly enough.

"How certain are you?" I asked. I didn't need to specify, Mercy would know what I meant. She always seemed to have a talent for those sorts of things. Her reply came almost immediately.

"Certain. I saw him drop below the hills and into flame. He is well and truly gone." There was nothing in her words, as I'd expected. She sounded neither convinced nor doubtful of her statement, neither honest nor deceitful. No sounds escaped my lips as I turned towards her, studying every small move she made. There was nothing to see. She stood unmoving, even her breathing seemed stalled while she remained perched by my side.

I was not a suspicious man. When my companions told me things, I was fairly certain they were telling me the truth. That said, I was a cautious man. If O'Carrick was alive, he could easily represent a clear and present danger to Blackstone, especially if he was gathering allies. Stone's identity was certain, and I could not see him forming an alliance with any random knight who crossed his path. Besides, we knew it was an unaligned Warden that had been to both Morrowgale and Herongale, immediately after Stone no less. The connections were too convenient for me to dismiss, I had to be certain.