This Alliance

Prologue: Disciple

An: Hello, this is my first story. Please bear with me I know there are grammatical errors, I just want to do this for fun. Hope you enjoy. I do not own For Honor or any of its characters within the campaign. Also the cover art is not mine, I just got it off of pinterest.

The Warden missed the feeling in his hands as the cold winds blew against his armored body, Even that stinging, tingling sensation from the overexposure to such temperatures. Now his hands felt numb. Unable to bend the tips of his fingers for his blood to keep flowing.

He wondered if the baby swaddled in cloth and wrapped in his arms felt anything. Or was his child as numb as he was? Was his child even living to feel this moment?

The small boy made no sound as the Warden traversed through the planes of a snowy desert. Nothing was to be seen for miles. Wind blew dusty white particles into the air, obscuring what was before him. Sharp winds hit through his armor like millions of cold daggers stabbing every which way possible. The only thing his ears could pick up was the howling wind, whispering loudly into his ear.

The Warden could do nothing but walk. He had walked for miles in the same direction for quite some time, though there were some points where he felt like he had gone in circles. Everything looked the same. After all it was just a flat plane covered in snow. Did he pass that rock before? Was that the same tree?

Where are the roads?

His legs felt numb. Not the same kind of numb feeling as in his fingers, but the kind of numb where one knew that their body was in pain. The worn out nature of his movements showed it. Occasionally he would take a wrong step to the side or slip off a rock and he would almost come tumbling down. He didn't know how he was able to stay up this whole time but the thought of the child- his son- falling with him made him regain his footing at the last possible second.

He can't lose now.

The Warden picked up his feet like he did the last thousands- the last tens of thousands of steps before.

He urged himself a little more. One step in front of the other. Two steps came right behind him.

Wait. Steps don't echo.

His arm moved to his sword before he ever had the chance to think. He couldn't feel the hilt but he knew it was there. The blade unsheathed with the metal sliding out of the hold like a screech. WIth a quick turn of his whole body, he looked to see who had followed him.

Was it the Vikings? The Samurai?

A dark thought entered into the Warden's mind.

Was it her?

It was a thought that provoked fear into his mind. He clutched his sword tighter.

No, he convinced himself. She's dead.

Still, something was there, Hiding within the confines of the cold like a mouse avoiding a predator's claws...

Or a wolf, hiding among the sheep.

Stop thinking! The Warden shook his head of the evil thoughts. He subconsciously held onto his son tighter with his free hand. But what would that do for him? His sword needed two hands to hold. One hand would only make him an easy target unless these were not wolves but instead fools.

Hesitantly, he lifted his free arm away from his son wrapped around his chest. Somehow he felt so cold releasing the boy from the protection of his father. WIth that he now was able to clutch the sword with two hands.

A sound from beside him rang in his ears and with that he jerked to the left. There was No way he could fight in his condition. Instead, He readied his sword in a protective stance, preparing to block the possible strike.