She gritted her teeth, holding her right shoulder in a pained grimace.
She was a soldier. Not just any soldier, she was a Warden, oath sworn to protect the innocent and uphold peace. People rallied behind her, counted on her to lead them to victory, she was trained to be on the frontline.
As such, getting hurt was normal, she supposed. Expected even, to some degree, even if she just happened to be fighting for the wrong warlord.
That damn coward almost cost the entire fort their lives. Luckily enough, the Lawbringer Holden Cross took sympathy, proposing a duel to settle the battle without more people dying.
Daubeny… wasn't thrilled with the idea, deciding to send her in his place to fight his battle against the Blackstone Legion's representative.
It was a hard, long fight. Her opponent was a Warden too, so she expected nothing less from a member of her order.
She won, of course, and Cross decided that he liked what he saw and… invested her, for lack of better terms, welcoming her into the Blackstone Legion.
Daubeny wasn't happy, predictably, but screw him, he could drown in his own tears for all that she cared.
The battle ended with her gaining a very nasty cut on her shoulders. It had been treated marginally, but it required proper medical attention, which is why they had hurried back to the main camp. So much so that her wound reopened while she was on her horse, making her whisper some very unladylike curses. The bastard that did this to her could consider himself lucky that she had killed him already, otherwise, by Jupiter's sandals, she would have made him cry for his mama.
Cross had sent her to the medical tent quickly, so that their healer could attend to her wounds, with a warning. He was a… unique individual, but he was their best and to let him do his thing.
Those words had… given her a little bit of apprehension to be perfectly honest. Who is this mysterious healer? Cross had said "he", so a male. That's a start. A very disappointing start if she had to be honest, but a start nonetheless. She would have been more comfortable with a female, but she had to walk this one off. And at least, had it been a woman, she could've had something to look at while sitting still and doing nothing. Damn her usual luck.
Reaching the entrance of the medical tent, Skye the Warden drew a deep breath and lightly knocked on a wood post right by entrance, to announce her presence. Entrance was granted to her with a muffled "come in".
Stepping inside, Skye was assaulted with the familiar smell of alcohol and herbs. The… apothecary, if one could call it that, was a medium sized place, big enough for roughly five patients at a time, if she had to guess. Some beds were spread around the place, with various tables and small desks in between. Upon said table she could see many containers, filled with strange liquids and various samples of plants. And at the center of all, the man of the hour himself.
To be perfectly honest, judging by Cross's words, she had been expecting a cranky old man, the usual type "I hate your very existence, but healing you is my job, so I'm going to nonstop bitch at you". It would have made sense.
What she did get was a young man, around her age at a first glance, with short blonde hair and striking green eyes. He was dressed lightly, a simple long sleeved green tunic and long pants. On the left half of his chest, he had an image the Rod of Asclepius stitched, right above his heart. Not casually, she was willing to bet. His face was clean of hair, probably for sanitary purposes.
Said face was… neutral to say the least. Devoid of emotions and expression, he regarded her with a cold look.
Skye wanted to do the same, she really did, but her shoulder was killing her, so she winced without meaning to.
The man's expression didn't change, but he gestured towards one of the beds.
"Take a seat miss. I'll see to your injuries".
She wordlessly sat down. Nobody had called her "miss" in a very long time. Good to know that some people still had manners.
She started stripping out of her armor, starting with her helmet, letting her long, raven hair out for the world to see, while he was preparing what he needed, and she observed him in the meantime.
He looked dull and boring, she could tell that much. Or more like… professional, is the word. All business, no play. She grunted, finally out of her heavy clothes and letting her wound breathe a little bit. She needed that.
She stole one last peak at him. Dull and boring, maybe… but at least he was handsome, so there was one positive note in this situation. She could work with this.
He approached once more, a bottle of alcohol and a clean rag.
"This is going to sting. Feel free to curse if you need to, I won't mind".
Skye almost retorted, but he mercilessly pressed the now drenched rag against her wound.
And so, curse she did. Loudly. Damn him, he distracted her.
True to his word, he didn't comment on her language, merely continuing his ministrations with a straight face.
Fortunately for her, it was over soon, and she found herself with a nice, snuggly bandage over her shoulder.
"The wound will require a week to fully heal. During that time, you are to not even think about picking up your sword. I'll send a note to our warlord, so if she tries to make you do something, let me know".
Skye moved her shoulder lightly, finding that it didn't hurt as much anymore.
"Sure, sure. Thank you, healer. I'll be on my way then…".
She almost got up, but the young man in front of her stopped her.
"We're not done yet. Show me your left hip".
Her hip? What was this guy talking about, her hip was fi…
She rotated her body, to give him a piece of her mind, and she had to bite back a sudden gasp.
What the… when did that happen?!
The man had no qualms in lowering her pants to expose said hip, where a nasty bruise was starting to turn purple.
"I noticed when you came in, you were favouring your right side, even if subconsciously".
Subwhat?
He seemed to realize what he had said and… chuckled lightly.
"Forgive me miss, sometimes I speak without thinking. Basically, you were doing something without realizing you were doing it. It's part of a study I'm doing recently, no need to go into details".
Doing things without knowing? That… didn't sound possible. Like, at all.
"Sounds like madness to me. How is that even remotely plausible?"
He looked up from her bruise that he was treating, humming slightly.
"It is possible. Think about it like… your training, for example. You have probably done the same drills over and over again, so much so that you could do them in your sleep, correct?"
Skye nodded. That much was true, but she still knew what she was doing.
"And tell me. While you go through your exercises, do you take the time to think about what you're doing? Or is your head elsewhere?"
She almost answered that yes, she did think about training while she did her drills, but stopped herself last second. She remembered her latest session, back in Daubeny's fort. They were the most basic exercises, she knew them by heart at this point… and while she was doing them, she was thinking about her family. About her dad, without a leg, telling her stories of his battles, kindling her desire to be like him, when she grew up. She was thinking about her mother, doing chores with a smile on her face and humming away. She was thinking about her baby sister, hugging her doll on their father's lap.
And when she was done, she had gone through everything without even realizing.
Her expression must have been very eloquent, for he was smiling. A tiny shadow of a smile, but one nonetheless.
"That is what I like to call subconscious. I just got started on my observations, so I can't tell you more, but I believe I'm onto something here".
Skye believed him. She really did.
Maybe she had underestimated him a little bit.
Speaking of which, he got up and handed her clothes back. His face was back to neutral.
"Now we're done. Don't worry about anything for at least a week, like I told you. You may leave now".
What a complete turnaround, damn. Skye quickly shrugged her clothes on, except her armor, and started to head to the exit, but before she did, she turned back.
"Hey, healer. What's your name?"
He stopped what he was doing for a moment, probably contemplating whether to answer her or not. After a couple of second, he resumed his activities.
"Corvo. My name is Corvo".
Skye smiled widely, finally able to place a name on his, admittedly, very handsome face.
"My name is Skye, and you best not forget it! You're going to be hearing about me soon enough!"
And with that, she was out.
Corvo exhaled through his nose, glad that headache was over.
Skye the Warden. A smile threatened to emerge from his lips, but he pushed it down. Might be a name worth remembering, for once.
Hello? Is this thing on? It is? Noice.
Hello men and gentleladies to… a very bad idea if I had to guess, but I wanted to try anyway. We all know For Honor, right? War, fight, blood, death and edgy kids all around, but there is one avenue that the game has not shown us. Where there is war, there are soldiers. Where there are soldiers, there are weapons. Where there are weapons, there are wounds. And where there are wounds, there are medics.
So, this story will follow the misadventures of Corvo, healer of the Blackstone Legion, while he deals with everyone's bullshit and recklessness. Each chapter will have a different hero from the roaster in the spotlight, in a timeline that will go from the start of the campaign, with our Warden protagonist, Skye, all the way to the arrival of the Outlanders. It will be a long and bumpy journey, so strap yourselves in. For a Healer's Oath is always tested through time.
Ta-ta for now