The Warden | A For Honor Fanfiction

Present Echoes

A/N This. Took. Way. Too. Long. I must have gone through ten versions of this chapter before I settled on one that felt good. I am so sorry for the delay, guys, I should hopefully get back on track this coming week. Thanks for sticking with the story. God bless.

Present Echoes
It was a dishearteningly short trek to Blackstone's encampment. While the horses had surely shortened the time needed, it was a distressing sign that the journey to Blackstone's encampment only took a short few hours. Their cavalry could likely swarm us before the day's end, with a forward march arriving as early as next morning. Only a night's rest could delay such an attack, that, or our successful negotiations. It was a grim reminder of just what was at stake here.

The encampment itself was a strung together assortment of tents, cooking pits, and open space full of freshly cut tree trunks. Hardly capable of being a permanent settlement, but it didn't need to be. It was secure, well guarded, and from the looks of it, easy to disassemble at a moment's notice. Then again, with how many soldiers I saw even in the slow stride towards it, I suspect that may have been due to the sheer numbers more than anything. Berrat had been correct in his estimations of two hundred based on what I was seeing...

The messenger's pace had slowed considerably, now a mere trot as various Blackstone soldiers noticed our approach. I could feel Deborah's grip tighten around me as they held weapons up and ready, poised to strike. Thankfully, it seemed there was more surprise and curiosity in their faces than outright hostility. The makeshift trail blocked my vision slightly, so I could only count ten or so warriors meeting us at the front entrance of the camp. I turned to observe the horse behind me, which still carried Elder Kharion and Stone. I'd still had yet to see Berrat anywhere during our travels, a fact that concerned me greatly.

Once we had entered the camp, the surrounding chatter increased in volume. I could hear a multitude of whispers, each ranging from disbelief to poorly hidden disgust. A far warmer welcome than I'm sure they wanted to give a traitor, I was sure. Our messenger quickly dismounted as a small band of five approached from one of the tents to the right, most of them shield toting warriors, save for what I can only assume was a former Warden. Her armor was similar to mine and her sword was a well made blade, but it seemed that she wore no helmet, replaced by a hood bearing Blackstone's colors. This Warden spoke with the messenger for a moment, then turned to face us, causing Deborah's grip to tighten yet again.

"Hold, Warden." Said the woman. It was hardly a necessary order, I had already stopped moving some time ago. Nevertheless, I pulled the reins on Lady Claire's horse in an effort to get it more upright, which the horse was quick to obey. The woman seemed to study the horse for a moment, her expressions mostly hidden by that hood. After a minute or so, she moved forward, coming around to my side and lowering her hood. My heart dropped a bit when she finally revealed her face.

Her left eye was cloudy and faded, seeming to drift ever upwards with a small piece of skin beneath it looking like it was burned away. Half of her left ear had been cut clean off, its dark red scarring contrasting against what I suspect were once fair features. Blonde hair was seemingly absent from the left side of her temple, while flowing down to her neck on the rest of her head. For a moment I pondered why she would forego her helmet if she meant to hide injuries of such nature. I could only conclude that this wasn't her intention, for one reason or another.

"You are the Warden called Liam O'Carrick?" She asked, bringing my attention back to the present. Looking her square in the face, I nodded.

"I am he." Was my response. The warrior inhaled deeply, then looked to her fellows. Each of them glanced nervously between both her and one another, as if uncertain how to proceed. The entire exchange seemed particularly odd to me, it wasn't like Blackstone to become flustered in the presence of a guest, much less a potential enemy. Perhaps doubt within the Legion had grown over the past few years? Unfortunately I didn't have time to ponder this, at least not now.