The Warden | A For Honor Fanfiction

Outnumbered

Outnumbered

It was like seeing an entirely different settlement when I finally arrived at Herongale. What once had been an open road now had wooden barricades lining the outskirts of the Hamlet, each side wrapping around to the east and west. A hastily constructed wall about chest high now surrounded the various buildings, with a number of men and women rushing around the now bustling streets with lumber and hastily made spears in hand. I applauded their efforts, but even a stand like this would not last against the Blackstone Legion. Herongale would need warriors for that, and unfortunately for them, I was the only one coming.

My arrival had not gone unnoticed. Deep in the tree line, a barely visible figure watched my every move, vanishing periodically into the trees, as if shifting in and out of reality. I had noticed the figure about an hour ago, but could tell from the frame that this was no Peacekeeper, certainly no member of Blackstone. It was likely a local Ranger, a community born protector gifted at surviving in the wilds, and experts in hit and run tactics. I hadn't seen or noticed any during my previous stay in Herongale, but with how alert the hamlet had become, it came as no surprise to see them so close to their fellows. As I came closer to the makeshift barricades, other villagers began to notice my approach, and began calling out to their companions.

I came to a halt as the villagers entered into what looked like a primitive battle position, utilizing the gaps in the barricades to keep sight of me, while others readied themselves with their spears. Before long, however, they began to realize I did not carry Blackstone's colors, and not long after, they seemed to relax. I suspect they even began to recognize me, though I could not be sure at the time. Despite their calm, I did not approach, allowing them to make the first move. Several minutes passed as they discussed amongst themselves, then sent one woman off into the hamlet. I did not have to wonder what this woman was doing for long, as she returned with two hooded rangers, clad in browns and dark greys.

The taller of the warriors on the right slowly removed their hood, revealing a bearded, bald headed man with skin I could only describe as chocolate in color. I recognized him immediately, Kharion, the elder's son, though I suppose he was the elder now. The second ranger did not remove their hood, but instead readied a longbow, nocking an arrow with a slow, graceful movement. At this range I did not doubt the Ranger's accuracy, I only hoped I would not provoke them.

"Welcome back, Warden. I see you have come alone this time. Where is your caravan?" Kharion asked. The question briefly reminded me of my breakdown in the forest, but I could not dwell on it, nor could I make mention of it. Instead, I gave the truth.

"I have ordered them to remain back in a stronghold, until injuries permit." Kharion did not seem to respond to my words at first, simply staring down at me from the gate. His companion still did not ready their weapon to fire, if nothing else, that was a good sign. Whispers seemed to permeate the air around us, I did my best to ignore them. Even still, the unease was easily felt, and even more easily seen among them.

"Then what brings you here, Warden?" Kharion asked. It was a pointless question, I suspect that both of us knew that. Still, it was better to fully acknowledge reasons than just infer them.

"I have word that Blackstone marches on your hamlet. I have come to offer my aid." I explained. The few armed townsfolk muttered and whispered around me, but Kharion and his ranger did not seem to respond. Though it was hard to tell from this distance, I swore I could see Kharion narrowing his eyes at me.

"And just how did you become aware of this information, Warden? We have suspected an attack for some time now, and yet here you are maybe a week later only just offering your aid? You'll forgive me if your timing seems suspect." His accusation was clear as day, and I could fully understand his misgivings. Even putting aside my former connection to Blackstone, which I suspect they had surmised, waiting so long to offer assistance could easily paint a convincing, if ultimately inaccurate, picture of my intentions.