Battle Log #3 • AQW Wiki Afianf

That last one reminded me of Sir Fonzus. It's been a long, long time since the days when he ran me ragged through the streets of Bladehaven. I had more bruises than a rotten apple. But I've never met a craftier swordsman. Or one that laughed so rarely. Without the tricks he taught me, that last fight might have turned out VERY differently.

Not to self: If WHEN we win, find the yard-boy who polished Fonzus' blades. His tricks almost made Fonzus smile, once. That's worth a place in the Squire's ranks.

We approach the Keep, but I find no joy in it. I had taken down the squad of soldiers — knocked them unconscious, not slain, of course — and I could swear that the youngest one smiled at me as he fell. But I must have hit him harder than I thought, because he quickly closed his eyes. I leaned in to help him — Valen can yell later, if I tell him — but he knocked my hand away. Then he pulled me back, and whispered so softly, I could barely hear him.

He asked me to talk with him in the forest, and if I'd sing for him at the bonfire. He called me Sara, and said he'd be back by winter's break. Then his voice faltered, and he let my hand go, and was silent. I will light a candle for him, my nameless soldier, and for his Sara, once we are victorious.

Dethrix has so much to answer for. And so do I. No one's hands are clean, anymore. Not now.