A Knight of Nowhere

Chapter one: No One

The winter wind whipped through the trees. Stirring up the cries of the God's. The discord of their songs upon the northern air beckoned to all those who dared to wander the snow-filled forest. Their tree marked boundaries spread and spiralled for miles on end. The true, most triumphant victory they could have against man.

This alone was a sight to marvel at. Basking in the cold breath of the god's hand. Though, for many a man, this sight would be his last. For men never wandered this forest alone, and it was not a privilege that they had a choice in receiving. No, as they wandered, fate herself walked amongst them. Extending her cruel hand, only for her to pull you into her ensnaring eternity.

Two men braved the forest. The pair bore only two cloaks and daggers between them. They both clutched the bearskin around themselves, locking themselves in the sombre memory of brighter days. A sporadic cluster of trees lay before them. Much closer than any others in the forest, forming a vast wall of nature. Nature was a beast that neither of them wanted to defy.

The heavier set of the pair favoured the left side of the trees, whereas the other preferred the right. Each of them taking their separate path, their training at the Brotherhood had taught them this much, splitting up lets you cover more ground. It also makes you an easier target, Thomas thought to himself. Not willing to let his companion hear the words leave his tongue. Their ice was thin as is.

With each step that Thomas took, the snow seemed to have the upper hand. Enveloping his feet within its merciless grip. Its white blanket piercing his foot with immeasurable cold. Winters near Kyrag are always the same. Each of his steps was another escape from its grasp.

Though, out of the corner of his eye, something caused him to overlook the white plain that was now all too familiar to him. He took to a nearby oak, kneeling at its side. Thomas reached forward, brushing some of the idle snow from beside the tree. Revealing a singular spec of green, fighting for its life. Thomas recognised the plant instantly – Widows Kiss.

"Must be a tough winter, ay brother," Thomas called out. The mist from his breath only served to shrivel the plant more, aiding its demise. "Especially if the winter berries are dying out."

"Aye," a stern voice replied. From the sounds of it, Drayke was further on than Thomas now, given that he was taking his time with the Widows Kiss. He pulled a dagger from his pocket, aligning the cold steel of the blade to the stem of the plant. Probably about halfway down. With one swift cut, the plant was firmly within his grasp. He quickly put it, and the blade back within his pocket. "Plant or not," he whispered. "Nothing deserves to die like that." I have an idea on how to save you.

"Aye, Drayke," he once again called over winter's song. "Have you heard the stories?"

"Stories," he retorted. Drayke scoffed at the thought. "What bleeding stories?"

"Apparently the one's round 'ere have some sort of healing property."

"It's always you and your fucking stories, isn't it?" Drayke spat.

"Aye brother," Thomas said. His voice becoming toneless amongst the wind. "I was only making an observation..."

"If you wanted to observe flowers, you should have become a florist, not a member of the Brotherhood!"

The pair continued for some time, marching throughout the forest. Though for Thomas, this was not done without a heavy heart. Yes, he understood that they were scouts, but that didn't mean that he ceased to be himself. Was that really what it meant to be a part of the Brotherhood?

Thomas thought it best to break the silence that had fallen among the two of them.

"So," he began. "Do you really believe in all of this Drayke."