Less than day from then he would be back into the frozen north, but for a few more hours Warren Castille was soaking in the warmth of his last morning spent in Thanalan. It must have been a bit of a strange sight for those unaware that he spent time at the Grindstone; The normally rigid knight clad from neck to boot in heavy armor was strolling through the courts wearing what amounted to a pair of sturdy boots, a shoulder pad and a skirt. Those in the know would have considered it gladiatorial but to anyone else, it was preposterous.
His night and his morning had been uplifting. He couldn't have thought of a better send-off than spending time with those most important to him and there were still hours left of that before finally setting into the grim business that awaited. He wasn't going alone, however. Warren and Howl both knew of the risks they were incurring and while neither of them had any intentions of returning in anything less than whole, they were both aware things ultimately weren't going to be decided by them. Warren was taking things with him to provide strength, reasons to fight. He was carrying pieces of those who would protect alongside of himself into the frigid tundra, and he would not fail them.
The favor was obvious; It was given to him by her first, and at a time when he needed something to cling to. A spark of hope to carry him through what he thought were his darkest time, the white cloth had helped him through until he once again was welcomed into the light. Wrapped inside of it was the lock of blue hair. It had only come into his possession through sheer coincidence and he didn't feel entirely comfortable keeping it. It wasn't given to him of her own accord but he didn't feel right leaving it in the hands of a raving lunatic who didn't deserve it, either.
Alongside of those items was the flask Howl had given to him. He was going to make sure to fill it with the strongest drink he could find just in case he or Howl needed a moment to think back to home, and he fully expected them to. The words that had been inexpertly carved into the side meant more than the gesture. Warren could derive strength from those letters.
And then there was the ring. Warren knew enough of its history that he could tell it would not have been given under light circumstances, and he carried that information with no small matter of respect and pride. It was a meaningful heirloom that had been rendered onto him to, like the others, provide him strength and keep him fighting for what was important. Warren was going armed into the future with something more valuable than any masterwork weapon or legendary suit of armor, he was going into the northlands with the primordial fire that had driven man since creation.
Warren Castille was armed with hope, and he would both shelter it and be sheltered by it.
His night and his morning had been uplifting. He couldn't have thought of a better send-off than spending time with those most important to him and there were still hours left of that before finally setting into the grim business that awaited. He wasn't going alone, however. Warren and Howl both knew of the risks they were incurring and while neither of them had any intentions of returning in anything less than whole, they were both aware things ultimately weren't going to be decided by them. Warren was taking things with him to provide strength, reasons to fight. He was carrying pieces of those who would protect alongside of himself into the frigid tundra, and he would not fail them.
The favor was obvious; It was given to him by her first, and at a time when he needed something to cling to. A spark of hope to carry him through what he thought were his darkest time, the white cloth had helped him through until he once again was welcomed into the light. Wrapped inside of it was the lock of blue hair. It had only come into his possession through sheer coincidence and he didn't feel entirely comfortable keeping it. It wasn't given to him of her own accord but he didn't feel right leaving it in the hands of a raving lunatic who didn't deserve it, either.
Alongside of those items was the flask Howl had given to him. He was going to make sure to fill it with the strongest drink he could find just in case he or Howl needed a moment to think back to home, and he fully expected them to. The words that had been inexpertly carved into the side meant more than the gesture. Warren could derive strength from those letters.
And then there was the ring. Warren knew enough of its history that he could tell it would not have been given under light circumstances, and he carried that information with no small matter of respect and pride. It was a meaningful heirloom that had been rendered onto him to, like the others, provide him strength and keep him fighting for what was important. Warren was going armed into the future with something more valuable than any masterwork weapon or legendary suit of armor, he was going into the northlands with the primordial fire that had driven man since creation.
Warren Castille was armed with hope, and he would both shelter it and be sheltered by it.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
