Snippet #2690415

Quiet contemplation, even for just a few minutes, gnawed at Hodrick's mind. The gods would be disappointed if he simply laid down his arms and surrendered. There was a reputation to uphold as an unextinguishable flame, an indomitable bastion against the dark. The people of Ironsguard needed to have somebody to look up to, to inspire them to take up arms against the monsters and say "No, we shall not die quietly." They needed that which was so hard to come by these days, that which must be guarded most closely.

They needed hope.

The knight left the destroyed village behind him, heading towards Ironsguard. The forests felt even colder and darker than before, making him suspect the spirits of the newly deceased clung to him, either in fear, anger or simply sorrow. Eventually they seemed to stop bothering him, but instead something new occupied his mind: at the great wall around the city, the signal flames had been lit, the city was under attack. While he clearly needed to conserve as much energy as possible, he picked up the pace as he made his way towards the front gates.