On the Road
"Famine. This place houses their seed grain. There will be no new harvest. By winter, they will be killing each other over what little food is left." The fire continued to rage in the village below. Desperate cries rang from the scattered defenders as the words repeated, over, and over again. So many dead, and so many more to follow. These were not the goals of the oath. I knew what had to be done.

It was a cold morning in Ashfeld, when I woke up in that same tent as so many other nights. Like so many other nights, it was an almost pointless rest. I had slept for hours, yet I still felt exhausted, tired, even mad at times. Groaning, I gradually rose to a sitting position, the thick furs and fabrics sliding off me as I did. Sure enough, my body ached and throbbed as I sat fully upright.

I can't remember the last time I was able to sleep properly. Of course, I had rested many times. Dreamless, uneasy, worried rests that never left me feeling any better. Sleep has eluded me for a long time now, years even. I suppose I shouldn't be too bitter, all things considered. I'm hardly a man in the worst shape of his life. Well, from a literal point of view I suppose.

My name is O'Carrick, Liam O'Carrick, not that anyone really calls me that anymore. These days it's more often "Warden", or "Traveler". Even more recently though, it had become "Deserter". Once I had been a member of the Blackstone Legion, a fearsome band of Knights, carrying some of the most impressive warriors in the land within their ranks. But not anymore. Not since I started to question the methods of our Warlord, Apollyon…

"Tch, Apollyon…" I thought to myself. I raised my eyes and looked to the land surrounding me. Among my few belongings were my armor, chainmail with one or two links broken, but easily repairable if I could find a blacksmith. A few well forged steel plates, one molded to look like a roaring lion. A steel helmet, still bearing scratches and small dents from my time on the road. And a gambeson jacket to put underneath it all. To the left of that was my sword, a steel blade with an intricately detailed cross guard, and a hilt wrapped in vibrant blue cloth. Once it had belonged to the warlord Daubeny, whom I had served before Blackstone, until it had been gifted to me. A few other supplies, food, a satchel, and a few furs for the cold. Like I said, not a man in the worst shape.

I took the next hour or so to don my armor, a process that I had grown all too accustomed to doing alone, and packing up my supplies. I wouldn't worry too much about food this morning, I was only a few hours away from the nearest settlement. With any luck, I would arrive before noon, and I could find my rest. I was on route to Morrowgale, a small town of farmers and fishermen, and if I was in favor with my God, a blacksmith or two. After I had finished packing and getting armored, I stepped outside, wrapping the warm brown furs along my shoulders as I stepped outside the tent.

Around me were the hills and trees of Ashfeld, normally vibrant and green, now covered white with fresh snow. The path before me showed no signs of footfall, with even the steps I had taken the night prior to setting up camp long gone from snowfall. I had become familiar with them in my long travels, having passed through each of them more than once. All that was needed was to pack my tent, and I would be traveling upon them once more. That's all I really did now, travel, wander, go from place to place.

"Just another day." I said to myself, trying to keep my mind occupied. When I finally finished up my packing, I placed the canvas into the satchel, and slung the thing over my shoulder. There was a soft rattling from the beaten cooking supplies I carried with me, interrupting the silence of the wood around me. I paused for a moment, seeing if any other noises filled my ears. The snapping of a twig, the sound of disturbed snow, anything that might indicate I was being watched. A moment passed as I looked around me, scanning the trees for any signs of movement. Then another moment passed, and another after that. Satisfied, I adjusted my satchel to hang from my waist and pressed on into the cold.

The soft crunching of the snow filled my ears as the steel plates of my armor grinded against one another. And so became the rhythm of my travel, a soft crunch of snow, the shifting of metal, followed by another crunch. I breathed aloud, watching my breath form into a cold mist in front of me. My mind drifted to what it normally did when I was traveling, my final mission with the Blackstone… It had been three years since that fateful attack on Svengard, since Mercy had told me the truth. Mercy… A peacekeeper that I had served with for a year up to that point. I had always admired her skill, and her dedication. But when she said what she did, without any trace of remorse, regret, or even sympathy, I lost any respect I had for her. And any I had for Cross, or for Apollyon, or any of them.

My grip on my sword hilt grew tighter as my anger began to burn within me again, the memories flooding back in. All my service to Blackstone had been for naught but a mad warlord's conquest. I was a Warden… and yet she saw fit to turn me into a common criminal, a thug whose only purpose was to kill, and maim, and destroy. I would forever try to atone for all I had done under her banner. I could only hope that in time, others would see their folly too. Then again… maybe I was asking too much. Oaths are not easily broken, even to those that didn't deserve loyalty. Perhaps…

My thoughts came to a halt as I heard the distinct cracking of wood in the distance. I stopped my pace and looked to my right, looking for any kind of disturbance. Fresh snow had begun to fall around the wood, hills and trees blocking my sightlines. I wasn't sure how long I had been walking, none of this place looked familiar to me. I looked to my left now, more hills and trees surrounded me as the soft snow continued to fall. I was just about to lower my guard when I heard it again, the soft cracking of a twing, louder this time, closer.

I slowly drew my sword, the metallic cry revealing my position to whoever or whatever stalked me. This was fine by me, whoever this was already knew where I was. Perhaps now they would think twice before coming closer. My breathing slowed as I listened closely for another sound, anything to discern where these potential attackers were coming from. It could have been travellers, yes, but I was on the open road, showing no signs of aggression, so why were they hiding in the forest? Another moment passed, and so came another sound, this one even closer still.

"Whoever you are, I know you're there." I said in a raised tone. A few moments passed as I looked to the trees, searching for anyone or anything. No response.

"It doesn't have to be like this, I just want passage to Morrowgale. Reveal yourselves, and I will ensure you arrive safely as well." I offered. Again I waited a moment, hoping that these hidden figures would listen to reason. Finally, I heard another sound. The sound of a bowstring being drawn, to the right of me. I quickly turned to face the noise, raising my sword to a ready position, one hand firmly on the handle, while I rested it on the thumb of my open one, ready to adjust to whatever side I needed. Standing not more than thirty feet away from me, clad in shoddy furs and wielding a poorly made shortbow, I saw a man. A scraggly man, with wild hair and an unkempt beard, maybe in his 30s. He had dirt on his face and hands, a jacket covered him as he glared at me with cold brown eyes. I stared back at him.

Another sound came to my left, the familiar sound of pressing snow. I glanced that way, and saw an equally shoddy looking man, black hair this time, and a slightly longer beard that reached his upper chest at least forty feet from me. This one was wielding a crossbow, and it's bolt tip was pointed right at me. I could tell the crossbow too was in poor repair, but a loaded weapon was dangerous nonetheless. At his side I could see what looked like a scabbard, carrying a shortsword from the size of it. These men were bandits, I was sure of it, and judging from their willingness to attack a fully armored man in the forest, desperate ones at that. I looked between the two men, who in turn stared back at me, their eyes wild, and crazy. Finally, a new sound pierced the air.

"You're a Warden, right?" Came a voice. Raspy, weary, trying to carry an air of authority when it had none. I looked around again, scanning the two men before me. It hadn't been from either of them, that meant there was a third. I decided not to answer the man's question, I would try to force him out into the open. A moment passed of tense silence as the two bandits looked between each other.

"I said, you're a Warden, right?" The voice again. This time, accompanied by the all too familiar crunching. In front of me, another man, older than his compatriots, stepped from behind the trees, some thirty feet from me, beside the first man. He wore what looked like an ill fitting steel helm, that still left his face revealed. He carried a longsword with him, and unlike the rest, looked to wear padded armor underneath jet black furs. His greying beard was short, not even fully extending past his chin.

"I am." I responded. The man stared at me grimly, I could tell his eyes were blue now. He raised the tip of his sword, pointing it at my chest.

"You got some coin on you, eh?" He questioned as the other two bandits inched closer. I already knew what they were planning, but I couldn't just let this happen without trying to settle it.

"I told you, it doesn't have to be like this. Put away your weapons, and walk away." I said. The bandit leader grit his teeth and rose his sword above his head, as the other two bandits inched ever closer. The first archer was twenty-five feet away from me now, I was sure he wasn't a trained marksman, but he could still hit me from that range. I looked back at the leader. His grip was tight around the longsword's handle, and his eyes had a fire to them. He was growing impatient.

"Answer me!" He demanded. I carefully adjusted my weapon, adjusting the blade to rest along my forearm.

"I have coin." I replied. This seemed to satisfy the leader, as he simply nodded and lowered his sword slightly, though he still held it at the ready.

"Alright, good, then here's what's going to happen. You're going to put down your sword, and get on your knees. You're going to give us all the coin you have, then you're going to count to one-hundred. By then, we'll be long gone, and you'll be free to go. You got it?" He said. His demand was ludicrous, I knew that. I looked back to the other two bandits. I noticed now how famished they looked, they probably hadn't eaten properly in days. It was no wonder they were so desperate. I was in no mood to kill anyone today, even if these were petty crooks. I tried once more to end this.

"I understand you're desperate. It doesn't have to be like this, you can still walk away, join me to Morrowgale. I'll pay for your food once we get there, just put your weapons away." I said. The leader grit his teeth as he raised his sword once more.

"That's a no, then?" He said. I didn't respond. Diplomacy had failed. I looked to the first archer, and he stared back at me. I could see him fidgeting, growing nervous at this encounter. I stared back at him, watching as he continued to grow more and more tense. Finally, he snapped. With a fierce yell, he loosed his arrow, sending it flying at me.

I quickly raised my arm to block the shot, and winced slightly as the arrow collided with the metal gauntlet, bouncing harmlessly off my arm with a metallic thud. I immediately sprung into action, charging forward towards the bandit as he desperately began to reload. I could hear the ugly crack of the crossbow as it released the bolt, and felt a thud against my side as it bounced off another plate. I rose my longsword over my head and brought it down forcefully on the first bandit, cleaving right into his shoulder and down several inches. He shouted in pain as he dropped his bow, clutching desperately at the sword. To my side, I could hear rapidly approaching footsteps.

I quickly adjusted myself, kicking the first bandit off of my sword as I turned to face my attacker, raising my blade as I heard the leader let out an angry cry. The crashing of steel rang through the empty wood as I stared him dead in the eye, anger and hatred piercing into my very being as his yellow teeth clenched together in determination. Still, I did not falter. I pushed him away from me and rose my sword above me once more as the bandit leader roared again and launched a strike to the right. Almost instinctively, I lowered my blade to meet his, redirecting his blade to my opposite side.

The bandit lunged unwillingly forward as I used my free hand to grab part of his blade and pinned the flat of it between my arm and my side, raising my own longsword above me. Without a second thought, I plunged my blade forward and through his heart. The leader let out a startled cry as the steel pierced him, his look of anger shifting quickly to one of shock and alarm. I released the blade and pulled my blade from him as his body went limp, sloshing to the ground in a meaty thud, staining the snow with red. I looked up to the final bandit, who had finally reloaded his weapon, and was now frantically looking around him as he backed away from me.

Grunting, I slung the fresh blood on my sword to the side, splattering a nearby trunk. The man yelled in alarm and fired his shot, only for it to whiz past me harmlessly. I continued to march towards him as he dropped his crossbow in fright, shouting in alarm as he drew his sword. With a frenzied roar, he charged me, the sword pointed out in front of him as he ran. Ready for this, I raised my sword as he approached and batted the blade to my left, the metal clanging accompanied by the sword being wrestled from his hand and flung to the side. Before the man could recover, I once again thrust my blade, piercing his stomach.

The man grunted in surprise at first, then in pain as I pushed the sword deeper and lifted him slightly into the air. I looked him in the eye as I killed him, his eyes shared the same look of shock as his leader, as blood dripped from his mouth. He coughed once as he weakly reached down, his expression dropping to fear in my grip. I could watch this no longer, and so I pulled the blade from his body, and heard it slosh to the ground below me. I closed my eyes as I listened to his dying gasps, silently urging him to stop fighting. A few more moments passed, and there was silence as he drew his final breath.

I opened my eyes and looked to my surroundings. What had once been an empty, pure white forest, was now stained with three dead men, fresh blood surrounding them, slain by my hand. My stomach churned slightly as I finally released a breath, I hadn't even realized I had been holding it. The fight had lasted but an instant, and three lives had been ended. Three criminals, yes, but three lives nonetheless.

I let out another deep breath as I pulled a cloth from my side, and cleaned my sword, the silence of the forest having been restored. I nearly put my blade away, before I caught glimpse of the bodies once more. I paused, as I pondered their stories. Had they too been displaced by Blackstone? Just more victims I had helped make? It was these thoughts that drove me to plant my sword in the ground, and place both hands upon the hilt. As uncertainty continued to plague me, I released another breath as I softly lowered my head, closed my eyes...

And prayed.