Recovery

I had seen the discomfort on their face, standing there and discussing the enemy's fortress. I remembered the long night awaiting their lone soldier, hoping the message would be sent. I'd had my suspicions, but now it was as clear as day. Mine was not the only game being played, I could see that quite plainly. Done correctly, it could be used to further it, set the final pieces in place. A chance to fulfil the oaths properly, I suspect. I knew what had to be done.

—-

It was akin to coming out of a fog when I first opened my eyes. At first, all I could think of was the oaths I had sworn to my companions. Getting back to the fortress, fighting through the bitter cold. Yet, as I slowly came to my senses, I discovered that its sting had faded, only echoes seemed to remain. In much of its place, I felt a firm weight on my chest, and a strange warmth that seemed to combine discomfort and relief all in one. Second was what I could see, as my vision returned I could make out wooden ceilings and walls surrounded me, faint torchlight and candles were burning all around me. My armor was piled neatly beside me, with nary a hint of blood that I could see. My sword rested beside the pile, leaning gently against the wall, likewise cleared of any viscera. I couldn't remember lying down or falling asleep, let alone taking off my armor. Just what had happened to me? Had I made it to the fortress, or had I been captured? Where was I?

I hoped to find answers as I discarded a set of furs atop of me and tried to sit up, only to be met with a wave of burning pain that seemed to pulse through my entire body as I winced. Putting a hand on my left side, I looked down to inspect it, only to be met with a well bandaged and clean looking injury, faint smells of honey wafting off the bandages. It seemed whoever had tended to this injury had given me the dignity of keeping a tunic and set of trousers, though the edges of the tunic were pulled back from the bandaging. I could still see traces of swelling even beneath the concealing gauze, but I could not smell any bitter or unpleasant odors, hopefully a sign of successful healing. At the least, I knew I hadn't imagined the skirmish between myself and Belial.

Slowly, more memories returned to me as I pulled my hand away and gathered my thoughts. I could remember stumbling nearly blind through the raging storm, my senses warring for which piece of my body was in the most agony. I could remember the breaking of the storm just before sunrise, revealing the path I knew to follow, and I could remember just seeing in the distance the rising hill leading back to the fortress, the safe haven I had so desperately been seeking. Based on my circumstances, it seemed that my journey had been successful, and whoever had tended to me had treated my injuries.

It was only after I had come to this conclusion that I realized I seemed to be alone in whatever part of the fort I'd been sent to. The room was mostly empty, save for a table that seemed littered with documents and scrawlings. Towards the corner was what looked like a pile of discarded towels, heated towels for my treatment, perhaps? Fighting against the stinging of my wound, I placed a hand against the table to steady myself as I looked over the documents, trying to better discern what they said. Though the handwriting was haphazard and sloppy, I still managed to see they were medical reports, written in long and over complicated terms that seemed intent to dissuade unwelcome eyes.

Before I could further investigate my surroundings, I came to notice the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned slowly so as not to disturb my injury, and balled my free hand into a fist, a reflex I'd long since stopped fighting. The steps didn't seem heavy, certainly not akin to stomping, but I knew better than to let that ease my concerns. While I knew that Kharion and his people should be controlling this fort, I still could not let myself relax, not until the danger was well and surely gone. Slowly, the presence walked down the wooden stairs, gradually revealing a casual silhouette, without any hints of armor or weapons. When the figure reached the bottom of the stairwell, I recognized them instantly.

Slowly raising her gaze from the steps, and carrying what looked to be a small basket filled with what looked like fresh, steaming towels, was Deborah. Unharmed, safe, and now, I realized, somber in what she seemed to be doing. Had she been the one taking care of me? Was the doctor unavailable? Swarmed with the injured and dying? Such questions quickly fled my mind as I noticed Deborah's expression shift. Downcast eyes and a dreary, focused frown slowly gave way to wide eyes, and a warm smile that melted my heart.

"Liam!" She shouted, throwing aside the basket and rushing towards me. I barely had time to pivot myself to my uninjured side before she reached me. To my surprise, however, she seemed to slow as she approached, stopping almost entirely as she threw her arms around me and pulled herself closer. Even this gentler approach was enough to throw my balance, and I was forced to steady myself against the table. All of my questions and concerns left me at that moment, I was just happy to see Deborah okay.

"You're finally awake, you're awake!" Deborah said, almost singing her final words. I allowed myself to smile with her, and held her close. Hearing the relief in her words set my heart at ease, and I could feel my spirits lifting.

"Yes, I'm awake." I said back. We held one another for a time longer, ease settling in before I loosened my hold on her. Deborah did the same, backing away from me while still holding onto my arms, as though afraid I'd fall if she let me go.

"How are you feeling? Cold? Sore?" She asked, looking me up and down before focusing on my injury. Her smile never faded as she spoke, nor did her grip loosen.

"I'm a bit sensitive at the moment, a bit cool, but I am well enough." I replied, moving to sit back down on the bed. Pain flared a bit again, and I grit my teeth as I lowered myself back down. Deborah, in her kindness, placed a hand on my back as she helped guide me into a sitting position. In truth, a part of me felt joy as she aided me, something about it feeling right, I suppose. I decided now was not the time to dwell on such feelings, however.

"Yeah well, you're gonna be dealing with that for a while. Lucky for you, I'm a bit of an expert on what you're going through." Deborah joked, hints of that musical lilt resonating in her speech. I was glad to see her able to maintain a bright mood, and I allowed myself a smile at her words as she sat at the foot of the bed.

"I'm glad you are doing well, Deborah. It is good to know the fortress still stands." I said, taking a moment to lay my head against the bed rest.

"It's enough for what we need at the moment. Blackstone hasn't found us, so that's something." Deborah said, shrugging a bit as she did. Though I was glad to hear that, my mind wandered to the past events, those I could still recall. The memories of coming down here were not something I could picture, nor the care of my injury. When had these things happened? Perhaps more importantly, how long had it taken for me to recover? Looking back towards her, I posed my questions to Deborah.

"I don't remember anything beyond my trek. What happened in the time I was lost?" My companion's expression faltered for a moment, looking away and towards the exit. She was recalling something, I could be certain of that. I would not press the matter, however. She would speak when she was ready.

"One of the rangers found you stumbling towards the fortress, your armor was so covered they couldn't tell what legion you belonged to at first. When we realized it was you, we brought you down here, got the doctor to bandage you up, and just tried to get you warm until you woke up." She explained. Until I woke up, she said?

"How long did it take for me to do that?" I wondered aloud. Deborah shrugged lightly before responding.

"Better part of a day. Can't say I blame you though, when we got a better look at you, parts of your fingers had turned white and you had some sort of blisters on them." She said. Frostbite, from the sounds of it. I was familiar with the condition, I'd seen it many times before, both on my fellow warriors, and the common folk. The stage Deborah described was painful, but treatable, it was a miracle it hadn't progressed any further. It was the thought of a miracle that brought my mind to the others, to my legion, to the rangers and militia, to Stone. Had they found this place? Were they safe?

"And the others?" I asked, keeping my sight on my companion. Deborah smiled sweetly at me, but was prevented from speaking by a new set of footsteps, louder, faster, and heavier than her own. I looked past her and sat up, hoping to get a better look at the approaching figure. Bits of worry slowly fell away as I realized who it was, leaping from the last step and landing on the ground with a resounding thud. Still clad in his armor, heavy furs covered in snow adorning his shoulders, was Stone. Perhaps just as quickly, a brief sense of panic entered my mind as he saw me, and began barreling towards me.

"Well look who finally woke up, eh?" He half yelled, approaching me quickly and pulling me into a powerful hug. The wind was completely knocked out of me as I grunted at sudden movement, my chest slamming into him. A fresh shock spread through me as I winced and grit my teeth, tapping Stone forcefully on the back in a desperate bid to get him off.

"Stone…" I choked out, barely able to breathe. Thankfully, my friend seemed to understand, and released me just as quickly as he had rushed towards me.

"Right, still recovering, sorry." He said quickly. I tried to respond, but was prevented by a round of coughing. In my place, Deborah gave Stone a glare and scolded him.

"Can we try not to break him, Stone? We just got him back." Stone's response was to chuckle and cross his arms, taking a few steps back as he moved to the foot of the bed.

"Oh he's been through worse, he'll be just fine." He proclaimed. Though I appreciated his faith in my resilience, I scarcely felt able to hold up to such declarations. With a groan I adjusted on the bed until my back was flat against the wall, leaning to keep an eye on both of my companions. From Deborah's expression and Stone's disposition, I could tell both were in high spirits. They certainly deserved as much after everything that had happened. Still, I had questions, ones that needed answers. Turning my focus towards Stone, I asked the first of them.

"Our legion, did they make it here?" Stone's mood seemed to alter in an instant, the confidence and goodwill draining as he shifted uncomfortably. A sign of doom, no doubt… My fears only deepened when he shared a brief look at Deborah, only for her to sigh and look away.

"Maybe we hold off on that for now, eh? You just woke up from a pretty bad state, you should be-" Stone tried to say. Before he had even finished speaking, I knew he was trying to spare my conscience. I would not have that.

"Stone. What of the others?" I asked slowly and deliberately. If I was to be warlord of this Iron Legion, responsibility fell onto me. If that meant accepting failures, then so be it. The state I was in was of no importance in such matters. Stone hesitated a moment longer, tapping a finger against his arm as he looked away. Even Deborah seemed somber, sighing as she looked back at Stone. Finally, with a sigh of his own, he relented.

"Since yesterday, about thirteen have arrived, with Captain Obadia among them. The rangers are keeping watch, but I saw a few go down in the hamlet. I don't think those missing are coming back." Stone said, turning back to me. The words felt like a stone hurtling into my stomach, my breath knocked asunder just as easily as I slumped against the wall. Seven men. Seven souls that had trusted me to lead them, stood against their legion to do so. I had failed them, and I didn't even know their names…Worst of all, I hadn't even been there when they died. I wasn't there…

"Their names. Do we know their names?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I can get them from the Captain. I'll bring them to you when you're ready." Stone said, the softness in his voice told me everything I needed to know about my state. He was worried, something to be expected. I didn't want his pity, the men deserved that, not me.

"I am ready now. Get me their names, they deserve to be remembered." I said.

"Liam, that's…" Deborah said softly, though her words seemed to catch in her throat. Slowly, I turned towards her, seeing her softly shaking her head as she hesitated. Was she trying to protect me from the truth as well?

"That's not all." She said after a pause. If she had been trying to spare me, she seemed to think better of it. Grateful as I was for that, I could feel my apprehension rising once more. My nerves steeled again as I took a breath in, readying myself for whatever she would tell me.

"Most of the militia died too. Only eleven have made it back so far." She admitted. Only eleven, I thought? I remembered Kharion and Berrat telling me that they'd scrounged together thirty, only eleven had made it back? Only eleven…

"And the rangers?" I asked. I knew eight had left to ambush the enemy, Kharion and Berrat being among them. I had already seen Berrat mourning the loss of one of their numbers, how many more had died when I hadn't seen it? How few of their lot had returned?

"Three." Stone said plainly, answering me quickly. Three survivors. Five dead. Seven of my legion, nineteen of the militia, and five of the rangers. Thirty-one. Thirty-one dead warriors, thirty-one. The number rang in my mind like a bell over and over again, as if taunting me with the size of it. Thirty-one, most of them just scared people fighting to protect their home.

"Thirty-one…" I said aloud. The number was too high, far too high. How had it come to this?

"For what it's worth, all of the regular folk made it here unharmed. They're all doing well, Liam." Stone said. Some of the pressure in my chest did seem to release at this news. The people had been saved, that at least, was a victory. Still, I could not get that number out of my head. Thirty-one. It was far from the most death on my side I had seen, but those had all been fellow knights, fellow warriors ready to lay down their lives. These lives? How many of them had only answered the call because they had no choice?

"Liam, this isn't on you, okay? You did everything you could." Deborah said softly, accompanied by a warm sensation on my hand. Looking down, I saw she had taken my hand in her own, holding it softly as she tried to console me.

"Yet it wasn't enough…" I replied, looking up to her. There was a sad smile on her face, compassion and understanding in her eyes, almost seeming to sparkle in the firelight.

"Stop it." Stone said suddenly, his voice quickly growing stern and convicted. Looking towards him, I could see that even his stance had hardened. There was a stiffness there that hadn't been before. Whether that was a manifestation of concern or anger, I could not tell.

"Stone…" I tried to say. He never let me finish my thought.

"No. You were handed an impossible situation. You did the best you could, end of story." He half said, half declared. There was a confidence in his voice, a tone that dissuaded discussion or rebuttal. It was almost as if he were stating a fact, rather than voicing his personal thoughts. Even after everything, leading an unplanned and uncoordinated assault, breaking off from the rest of our forces, he still stood by me. I wondered what I had done to earn such loyalty, and if I even deserved it.

For now, I couldn't allow myself to dwell on such thoughts. I still had more questions, ones that would hopefully bear easier answers. Taking a deep breath, I looked away from Stone for a moment as I tried to keep my mind away from our losses. Instead, I focused on what came next, Kharion's next step, our next step, what the rest of our legion and force could accomplish. Even still, I could hear that dreaded number repeat in the back of my mind, like an unwanted pest that reminded me of a deeper rot. Thirty-one.

"What of our next step then? We cannot stay here indefinitely." I asked. This seemed to break Stone from his formerly implacable stance, and his shoulders slumped as his arms lost their tension.

"For now, that's all we've got. We can't organize anything with Blackstone still out there, and certainly not with our numbers as low as that are. Even Kharion seems to understand that." He explained. The bile in his voice upon Kharion's mention did not elude me, but I had naught the energy to say anything of it. He'd seemed to put it aside for now, and for that I was grateful.

"Blackstone will be on the offensive now that they've been attacked. We cannot afford to wait for them to make the first move." I replied. Before either Stone or I could further discuss, Deborah shook her head and pulled her hand away.

"Okay I'm sorry, does this really need to happen right now? Liam just woke up and quite frankly, isn't really in the best shape to be doing anything. Do you two think you could hold off on the war talk for an hour or two?" She said, exasperation clear in her tone. Stone looked at her a moment, then back to me as he shrugged his shoulders.

"You did have a pretty rough go of it, Liam, and you are the warlord. What say you?" He asked. Both sets of eyes refocused on me as I peered towards my armor, thinking it over. Perhaps it was the lighting, perhaps it was merely because I hadn't had a close look at the suit in several days, but I could see marks and blemishes where once there had not been. Scratches and dents in the plate, wear and tear on the helmet, and the remnants of blood stains in the gambeson. Sturdy, strong, but battered. A sign, perhaps?

I knew I had to be on top of the Blackstone threat, it wasn't something I could ignore or push to the side. I'd seen firsthand what an outraged and driven Blackstone legion was capable of, and I knew it was a frightening prospect. Daubeny's castle, the assault on the Viking war camp, and of course, Svengard. Worse, if Mercy were to be scouting for the Legion, our location would not remain hidden for long, if she hadn't already found it. To ignore this threat would be to put everyone under my care in danger.

Still, Deborah's proposition was more than tempting. My body still ached from my long march, and my stab wound was still very much in the early stages of its recovery. Aside from that, I had already seen what impetuous action had brought us, and was loath to rush into another set of choices without proper caution. Compounding that was a lack of information on our allies, I was still clueless as to what the rangers and militia were planning, if anything at all. Strange, I thought, it seemed it was both a time to act, and a time of patience all in one. Neither option sat particularly well with me.

I eventually decided to try for another option, one that might placate Deborah's desire for me to rest, and my own to keep an eye on things.

"Do we have any word on Berrat's location?" I asked. Stone nodded.

"He's out with a group of rangers scouting for Blackstone." He explained. For a moment I grew panicked and felt a rush of energy within me. What was a Ranger group doing trying to find Blackstone? Surely not planning another ill-advised ambush? The first had already been so disastrous… No, I thought to myself. Berrat had been a cautious man, and from what I understood, one of the few to vote against the attack that began our conflict. He would not be so rash as to attack again with such a small force. Trying to keep my mind at ease, I moved on from that thought.

"Do we have any way of knowing when he will return?" I asked. Stone shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Heck if I know, these rangers haven't exactly been forthcoming with their planning. Could be hours before they're back." He said. Inconvenient as that was for our current needs, it did serve as something of a boon to me. With Berrat gone, our best line of action was to wait for his report, learn what he had learned during his time in the wilds. To plan something before then would be folly, something I suspect both of my companions would agree with.

"Stone, keep a watch out for Berrat's return, we cannot form a proper strategy without his aid. In the meantime, we will hold off on any immediate arrangements, lest they be rendered obsolete." I ordered. Stone seemed satisfied with my decree, nodding along and unfolding his arms.

"That sounds well and good. What comes next, then?" He asked. A fair question, I thought. Even with our decision to wait, there were a multitude of tasks to be completed. The men would need to be reassured of my status, and I was certain the fortress would have needs to be attended to. Still, I could feel that I was in no condition to do any of those things, least of all get back in full armor so shortly into my recovery. I didn't like it, but for now, I would need to remain on bed rest.

"For now, Deborah is right. I need to regain my strength if I am to be of any use to these people. Assure our men that I am awake and recovering, and see if you can aid in the work around the fort. If anything changes, bring it to my attention." I said, parts more to myself than Stone. Beside me, I could see a small grin spreading across Deborah's lips.

"Now that sounds like something sensible. I'll fetch those towels I dropped." She replied. I watched her as she pushed herself off the bed, and walked towards the discarded towels. I could still see the faint traces of steam flowing from them, and for a moment pictured them pressing against my skin. The thought alone seemed to expunge what little of the cold I still felt for a moment, and I found myself looking forward to it. Stone seemed to follow Deborah, but walked past her as she stopped to pick up her tools.

"You two have fun then. Just remember, God is watching!" He called back as he left, a laugh barely contained as his shoulders trembled. God was… just what was he implying here? Was this a joke of some kind?

"Will you just piss off, already?" Deborah yelled after him, briefly looking his way as he ascended the stairs. What laughter my friend had tried containing spilled forth, a loud and boisterous thing that echoed briefly among the walls. Deborah rolled her eyes before turning away, and walking slowly towards the desk. When she reached it, she set the basket atop of it and pulled one of the cloths from within, gently ringing it out before moving towards me.

"Let me see your hand, it was still pretty rough when I last saw it." She said, gently extending one of her hands to me. It would be dishonest of me to say my chest did not tighten as I placed my hand in hers. I can't quite say what it was that flustered me, I'd taken her hand a number of times before. Perhaps it was the tenderness in which she held me, or the gentleness of her skin that seemed so much more pronounced against my own rough hands. Whatever it was, it was enough that I scarcely noticed the towel wrapping around my hand, the gentle warmth of it driving the last of the cold away.

As Deborah reached to grab another towel, I saw her gaze shift ever so briefly to my midsection. There was a curiosity there, but not any lighthearted or happy curiosity. The light in her eyes seemed to sink inward, as if retreating into some dark place she'd rather leave unchecked. Was my own injury causing memories of her own to resurface? It wasn't inconceivable, I suppose…

"Deborah? Are you okay?" I asked, gently lowering my hand onto my lap. Deborah held in place for a bit, her eyes never leaving the wound. For a moment, she seemed to sink even deeper into her mind. When she returned to herself, she blinked a few times and sighed as she set the towel back inside the basket.

"I've just been meaning to ask, who did this to you?" She asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. At first, I wasn't fully sure what she'd meant. It didn't take long for me to discern, however, that she'd meant my injury. Between glancing at my midsection, and only becoming concerned upon its sight, it was clear that's what she meant. I glanced away a moment, pondering whether I should say.

Belial already terrified her so deeply, what would telling her accomplish? I swore an oath to protect her, if she felt I was incapable of slaying this beast from her past, had I not already failed? Still, Deborah was not a child, and if our bouts of chess had proven anything, it was that she was far more clever than I. In truth, it was likely she had already discerned an idea of what had happened, and merely wished for me to confirm it. To hide it from her would be not only dishonest, but insulting, something I knew she did not deserve.

"Belial found me while I was wandering. He managed to best me in our combat." I admitted, my voice quieting with each word, shame welling up and lingering like a brick in my stonach. Deborah nodded slowly, taking a deep breath in as she closed her eyes, and slowly opened them as she breathed out. Even in this small action, I could read the anxiety and distress within her. Yet even then, I did not see surprise or alarm.

"And he didn't kill you outright?" She further questioned. Again, I grappled with whether or not to say, but again decided on honesty.

"His final blow sent me over a hill or cliff side, it was difficult to tell in the blizzard. He seemed to believe it was enough." I confirmed. Deborah actually seemed to relax a bit at this, even chuckling lightly as she shook her head and looked away.

"Well I guess his little lesson backfired on him this time. Lord knows it was bound to happen sometime." She said, though I was uncertain if she was addressing me, or simply reassuring herself. Either way, I could still feel the heaviness in my soul, whether it be frustration at myself for being bested, or for failing one of my oaths, unintentionally or not.

"Deborah I…" I choked out, the words seeming to catch in my throat. Deborah slowly turned to face me once again, her expression softer, but still carrying shades of dismay. The heaviness seemed only to expound itself as she rubbed at one of her arms, like she were shielding herself. It was as if the very thought of the man was enough to make her uncomfortable. Forcing myself to swallow, I tried again to apologize to her.

"…I should have been more careful, I should not have let him best me like that. I swore to protect you, yet I fell to a demon of your past. For that I am sorry, I hope you can forgive me." I said, meek and humble. I hadn't even finished my sentence before she'd begun shaking her head.

"Oh, save the drama. You were exhausted, you'd just been through a two way horse ride and a battle. I'm sure you did everything you could, Liam." She replied softly. The heaviness seemed to lift from me as I failed to contain a small smile. Again I had found myself the recipient of unexpected, and perhaps undeserved grace. This time, however, it was accompanied by Deborah taking my hand with both of her own, and holding it gently as she looked me in the eye.

"You're not all powerful, I understand that. But you make me feel safe all the same, just being here is enough, okay?" She said, that all too familiar musical tone back in her voice. There were still traces of unease in her eyes, but there was gratitude in them as well. Gratitude to who, however? To me? To God? Ultimately, I decided that didn't matter to me. I only cared that Deborah felt safe, that she too was here. And… that she was close.

So, I looked her deep in the eye, let my guard slip away…

…And smiled.