He had been sitting in one of the many taverns in Antiva City, drinking his ale and keeping an eye on the door as people walked in. Most were humans, though there was the occasional elf or dwarf. The majority of those who had entered, left after downing a mug of ale, though some stuck around. He knew most of those who stayed in the tavern, and they knew him.
While normally that would be a bad sign, in this case it was a good thing. Some of them were Antivan Crows, he knew, and they were supposed to keep an eye on him to make sure no one would attack him. He had pulled some strings to get the additional protection. The rest were fellow Grey Wardens, those who had followed him from Amaranthine as protection. They were all in disguises to hide the fact that they were Wardens. Especially the mages in the group, considering what had happened in Kirkwall about a month ago.
He was dressed in his heavy plate armor, the Grey Warden insignia on his breastplate shrouded by a cloth that he had draped over his shoulder. He knew that the Seekers would come looking for him. He knew they would want him to step in and stop the war before it grew out of control. He also knew that it was already too late. Everything had fallen apart: the Circles all over Thedas had been disbanded, the mages fleeing for their lives. The Templars had broken away from the Chantry to hunt down every mage in Thedas. The Chantry was now all but powerless to stop the chaos.
He didn't care. He had no love for the Chantry. Besides, his time for saving the world was over. He was tired of it: all the responsibility, stress, and fighting. All he wanted to do was rest, find somewhere to put down roots. He knew someone would rise up and try to fix everything. All he had to do was look out for himself and the men and women who served him.
He saw another human walk through the door. A woman, cloaked with a hood over her head that nearly covered her face. He knew who woman was. She was a Seeker.
She walked over to the bartender silently before asking for an ale. He noticed some of his men get ready for a fight, but he made a simple gesture, telling them to stand down.
The woman took her ale and paid the bartender several silvers before turning around and walking towards him, sipping her ale. He leaned back in his chair, making himself seem relaxed. Despite the façade, he was ready to move at a moments notice, as were his men and the Crows that were mixed amongst them.
The woman sat down in the chair across the table from him. "Darrian Tabris," she said.
"Seeker," he replied. "I know why you are here."
"Do you?"
He scoffed. "You want me to try to stop this war. To save your blighted Chantry."
He noticed the Seeker freeze up slightly. "You are more intelligent than I anticipated."
"I may be an elf, but I am also a Grey Warden. Remember that, shem." Despite his mellowing with age, he still carried a strong hatred for humans. His past experiences didn't help matters.
"I apologize. I did not mean to insult you."
"Do not try to butter me up with apologies and formalities. I will not help you, Seeker."
"May I ask why?"
"You may not be willing to see it, but your Chantry is lost. Nothing can stop this war now."
"Surely you do not believe-"
"I do. And I do not care what you say. I will not help you fight for a lost cause."
She slammed her mug on the table, the ale splashing out of it. "The Chantry is not a lost cause!" Ooh. I seem to have struck a nerve.
"Watch yourself, Seeker," he growled. The Seeker paused and looked around the tavern, tensing up when she saw the number of eyes on her, watching her every move. "I would not advise for you to raise your voice again." He gave her a cold stare when she looked back toward him, causing her to tense up.
"I apologize."
"I suggest you leave if you have nothing else to say."
"I… Of course." She stood and turned to leave before saying, "It was a… pleasure speaking with you."
"Leave. Now." The Seeker turned toward the door and walked through it, leaving the tavern. He turned his head toward his men as he stood. "Antiva is no longer safe."
