The Warden | A For Honor Fanfiction

Four on Watch

"The bard you spoke with, what did she say?" Mercy had made no secret that she'd found a wandering eye on our meeting, nor the actions she had taken. Normally such things would be handled by myself or by Belial, but Zulan and Kharion had been insistent on handling things their way. I was content to leave it there, justice would be served either way, and we had important business to attend to regardless. The bard had likely suffered enough anyway, stabbed by Mercy's blade.

"She told me nothing, as I told you." Mercy said, still unmoving. I couldn't explain why, but I was not convinced. There was nothing new in her voice, nor did her stance shift even slightly, but for some reason I could not shake the feeling there was more to it than what she said.

"Her exact words Mercy, what were they?" I demanded, raising my voice to emphasize my intent. This did catch her attention, and she slowly turned her head back to me, though only enough that she saw me out of the corner of her eye. She was silent for a time, I couldn't tell if she was simply ignoring me or weighing her options. I glared at her behind my helmet, as if willing her to tell the truth. Finally, she turned away and spoke again.

"Go to hell, Blackstone." She confessed. I paused and began to think. A bard had said that to a member of the Blackstone Legion? I knew most bards had fire in their veins, but to curse a Peacekeeper of Blackstone to her face? Even with a dagger at their side? That didn't come from mere bravado, nor sheer stupidity. She was protecting someone, she had to be. But which one was she protecting, Stone or the unidentified Warden? Stone seemed unlikely, but he was a valiant warrior in his own right, and certainly a man of moral character, if not punctuality. I couldn't be sure going off only this information, let alone my own assumptions. I needed more accounts of this Warden, and I knew where to get them.

"Siegemund and the elder, are they still awake?" I asked. Mercy still seemed disinterested in my questions, not so much as twitching as she spoke.

"The warrior keeps watch, the elder is asleep." She confirmed. Without a word I turned away from Mercy, content to leave her to her own thoughts. If my suspicions were correct, then she was either wrong, or she was lying. I wasn't sure which possibility concerned me more as I marched across that dark field, past the fallen stones and into one of the caved in holes. A controlled campfire lit the insides of the room, casting the shadows of my sleeping companions onto the rubble around them. Among them was the elder, resting against the hard stone uncovered, instead using a blanket to serve as a makeshift pillow. By his side was Siegemund, still fully armored save for his helmet, leaning against the wall.

His blade rested comfortably by his side, well within grabbing range. He would have to be a fool to challenge me if it came down to it, but so too would it be foolish of me to ignore the danger. If a bard was willing to insult a Knight for her benefactor, there was plenty that a trained warrior could be capable of, even one I was sure I surpassed in skill. Siegemund turned his dull green eyes towards me and grimaced, likely confused as to why I was approaching him, he would not have to wonder long.

"The Warden you met with, tell me about him." I demanded. Siegemund furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly. Had he not understood me? Unlikely, I thought. He was likely composing his thoughts, and if my hunch was correct, deciding just how much to say. Siegemund finally sighed and stood up straight, as though at attention.

"Did we not explain already? He came asking for a companion. He left to find him." He said. This time, I was able to read my subject clearly. The phrase was chosen deliberately, just enough to answer my question, but not enough to do so properly. He was hiding something, something big. I walked closer to him, letting the pommel of my weapon land heavily on the ground below. The ringing of steel on rock echoed gently around us, and Siegemund tensed. I was within striking distance of him in only a few steps.