Ethbert and his fellow gate guard were idling by the northern entrance to Rot Donar. They were cracking jokes, casual, not watching for any real threat. What bandit or tribesman would attack a camp of soldiers? [b]"Monarch, send us someone pleasant to look at,"[/b] Ethbert prayed in an exaggerated manner, a lopsided grin on his face. [b]"Send a lass, trained in the arts of pleasure. Refined. Fit to fuck a king. Is that too much to ask?"[/b] Ethbert watched in pleasure as his companion laughed at his jokes. The pair held their breath for a good moment. [b]"I suppose the Monarch is taking his time,"[/b] Ethbert shrugged. [b]"A shame that -- what the...?"[/b] Ethbert cut himself off as a figure emerged from the wooded path. 

	She was wearing the garb of a traditional nun of the Monarchist faith, covering her from head to toe. Over her shoulder slung a large sack of various goods, books and equipment. One of the first things Ethbert saw was the glimmer of her silver cross necklace in the rain. He also noticed the ax in her hand. 

	And the blood covering her body. 

	[b]"Fuck me, woman! What the hell happened?"[/b] Ethbert cried as he ran over to the bloody figure. He drew his sword and held it at arm's length - she appeared to be some kind of wild lunatic. [b]"Explain yourself."[/b]

	The woman had a faraway look in her eyes, her pale face speckled with drops of blood, slowly being washed away by the rain. [b]"I came here from Holy Cross. The Nunnery."[/b] Ethbert noticed that the woman appeared to be unharmed - her robes were torn, but the only blood visible was being pushed aside by the rainfall. This woman had been in a fight, and obviously came out on top. 

	[b]"Well... welcome to Rot Donar, sister,"[/b] Ethbert stammered, a mixture of wariness and confusion adorning his features. [b]"What happened to you?"[/b] He repeated. The woman looked down at herself and seemed surprised, as if she hadn't noticed her condition until it was pointed out to her.

	[b]"I was attacked,"[/b] the woman eventually resolved. [b]"Mountain lion. It came from the hills and pounced on me. I just swung at it... but I wasn't strong enough to kill it outright. I had to... keep hacking..."[/b] Ethbert looked back to his companion. [i]Can you believe this?[/i] He wanted to say. The other guard just shrugged, as bewildered in this situation as Ethbert. [b]By the end, I was just trying to put it out of its misery.[/b]

	[b]"Fuck,"[/b] was all Ethbert could offer the woman. [b]"I'm sorry, girl. Maybe we can get you an escort back to the Holy Cross, or they can send -[/b] the woman grabbed Ethbert's arm in alarm. Ethbert was so startled, he almost lopped off her head then and there with his sword. The woman was faster than any man Ethbert had bet on the battlefield.

	[b]"No. I've come to join the Black Shields as a... camp follower,"[/b] the woman stressed the last words as if she were ashamed of them. [b]My name is Hedwig. Hedwig of March. The Monarch sent me here, and no Earthly man or beast can stop my progression into this camp."[/b]
	
	[b]"Apparently,"[/b] Ethbert whistled. [b]"Go on in, I suppose."[/b]

---

Hedwig's first day at camp was mundane compared to the trip there. She went straight to an unoccupied tent and immediately established it as a interim place of worship for anyone who wished it, before even registering with the camp captain. Hedwig changed out of her bloody robes, hoping that she would be able to sew them up and use them again. She needed to be able to identify as a Monarchist Nun in the camp, or else she would be mistaken for a servant or even worse... a whore. Hedwig would feel terrible if a man mistook her for a lady of pleasure and touched her without her consent, thereby dooming himself to the outer layer of hell. Because of this, Hedwig let her cross hang over her dull woolen dress, and drew a large cross on her white cloak with a piece of charcoal. It would have to do, Hedwig decided. 

Outside the tent, after Hedwig had gathered several large sticks and constructed a cross to mark the location of her church-tent, Hedwig set off to Hoffmann's tent to register herself. Her cloak was drawn over her shoulders, concealing the ax that hung from her waist. The Monarch had told her to bring protection, and it had already saved her life once. Hedwig was not prepared to ever part with her weapon.

Hedwig waited patiently in the registration line, watching the men train. The nun could not deny that she felt envy watching them, so capable of defending what they believe in without needing to explain themselves. A forceful [b]"Next!"[/b] brought Hedwig back to reality, and she smiled as she stepped in front of the supposed captain of the camp.

[b]"Abbess Marthinhilda of the Holy Cross sends her regards, sir,"[/b] Hedwig said as she signed her name on the line provided. [b]"She gladly sends me as a representative of the Monarch's will, and the abilities of the Holy Cross's finest nuns. You will not be disappointed, I promise you."[/b]