Summersday 9:41, Wednesday, Dragon
"Thief! Someone stop that thief!" Master Baker screeched.
My feet pounded on the cobblestones lining the street as the wind ripped through my hair. The sack on my shoulder bounced around as I wove through the people gathered during the early morning. It was only a few hours after mid morning and right around the time the Market began to fill with crowds. I stopped by a small watering hole near the main stables and ducked beneath the drafters to catch my breath, waiting for the masses just outside to hide my presence. My ragged breaths formed clouds of condensation as the crisp morning wind sang ballads to the dewdrops. Mothers from town purchasing morning buns; pilgrims from all over Orlais marching in revered silence on Chantry Road; tourists from around Thedas wishing to visit the sites in Lydes; the crowds grew as the sun crept higher in the sky. A perfect getaway if I do say so myself. Especially on Summersday, the most important day of the year in Lydes. This was the city Empress Celene Valmont had visited 10 years prior for this particular celebration, for the official indoctrination of the new Chantry after significant damage during the Fifth Blight. Ever since, this small town grew to staggering heights. Nobles moved into the foothills, and with nobles came money and prosperity for Lydes. Today was the 10 year anniversary of that day. Tens of thousands of citizens from Orlais would be in attendance: To parade from Lydes to Val Royeaux for the main celebration of the holiday.
The shouting behind me snapped me out of my reverie as the baker I had stolen from not fifteen minutes ago and what seemed to be a small corral of previous patrons barreled into the main square.
"Where is he? Find him! Find the prick and gut him!" the baker shouted, red in the face. The surrounding crowd dispersed immediately with cries of surprise and displeasure as the eight ravenous shopkeepers fanned out among the main square. Knowing that my welcome was overstayed, I quickly slipped into the dispersing crowd and made my way down Market Street. I glanced back, only to make eye contact with the infuriated baker. I quickly swerved around and broke into a sprint away from the square.
"There he is! Catch him!" a voice shouted behind me.
Shop owners jumped out of my way as I charged down Market Street and cut a left onto Chantry grounds. Swerving to avoid a vomiting Templar, a smile crept on my face. It seems that a few of the Templars deployed for security were enjoying the Summersday celebrations a bit too much. I ducked into an alleyway and snuck into a concealed alcove. For now, I was safe. I unwrapped the sack I had been carrying and pulled out a fragrant bun from the assorted goods: saffron and orange, my favorite. As I wolfed down my prize, I carefully wrapped the rest with the sack cloth to save for later.
I turned around to witness a pretty site. Seven athletic shopkeepers and a pudgy baker fighting tooth and nail over the lingering crowd. Oddly enough, the baker was making more headway through the sea of people than the rest of my pursuers. Taking in the moment temporarily, I turned around and bolted to the Chantry entrance. I leapt across the threshold and shut the mahogany doors behind me. I slid the bolt across, locking the massive doors as a familiar voice spoke up:
"Hiding from your patrons again?"
I turned around to find Sister Arielle peeling an apple with a hunting knife, giving me a maternal stare.
"Well, I can't help it if my customers come for more. Besides, we wouldn't want unsatisfied citizens roaming around town now, do we?" I said with a shrug. I walked down the stairs from the entrance slinging the sack on my shoulder. I opened the bag and tossed her a roll still warm from the morning's batch. She caught it with an expert flick of her wrist and with practiced hands, slid the pastry into the folds of her stole, hidden from sight. She stuck her knife in the face of the oaken table, readjusted her stole and headpiece, and walked over to me by the enormous front doors.
"As much as I appreciate your little tokens of generosity…" A loud pounding echoed from the mahogany doors I had locked behind me. "I do believe you've outgrown your little tricks. This was fun and all when we were young but now I'm a Sister of the Chantry and we're at least a decade older." she finished.
"Open up! I know you're in there! I don't care if it's the Chantry or the fucking Fade, I'll find you and hang you up like a steak myself!" the baker shouted with cheers and taunts from his other accomplices.
Sister Arielle gave me a withering stare and proceeded to shuffle me into a small prayer alcove so as to conceal me from the all too eager mob outside.
"I hope in the future you will have more to your name than sack of Master Baker's saffron rolls." She enunciated with a disappointed look. She proceeded to unbolt and open the door, cutting Master Baker's eloquent homily short.
"I said to open the fucking door, you fucking dogs of the capital, I will ha-"
"Master Baker, I hope that you will forgive my intrusion," cut Sister Arielle. "Your message to the congregation is oh so elegant, however, I do believe that guest preachers are only allowed to preach once they have been authorized by the main Chantry in the capital. Also, I do not believe that men are not allowed the guest preacher position as most who deliver the homily are women. However, if you so desire to continue your path with the righteous, I do believe we have an opening for a candle maker apprenticeship. We have been running out of candles lately and Andraste knows how annoyed Mother Isabella gets when we run out of candles. Every person has their righteous calling, right?" I snuck my head around the corner to see that Sister Arielle had a subtle sneer on her face, one I knew all too well. She often made that face whenever she was being overly patronizing to the point of insult.
Master Baker was stunned into silence with Sister Arielle's sugar coated wit and began mouthing like a fish, struggling to get any words out. His face, a kaleidoscope of many emotions that seemed to get redder by the second, eventually settled on embarrassment as he muttered a quick apology and turned to scurry away. The other shopkeepers, with no leader now, decided to leave with their heads hung low in shame and embarrassment of equal value.
Sister Arielle shut the door behind her and turned to me, all cheery attitude devoid in her face.
"This is the LAST time I cover your tracks. Sure, we had fun in Hossberg, but this isn't Anderfels. We're not in the ghettos anymore, Tevasta. I gave up that life a long time ago. I'm sorry, but I can't keep doing this. I'm 25. You're about to be 25 as well. It's time we grew up. I have a new life now and I intend to see it through. I've found my calling. It's time you found yours."
Her reprimand was silencing. So much had changed in the years Arielle and I had been separated. She had decided to move to Orlais ten years ago to escape from the servant life after a lifetime of servitude to my family. I decided to move here just weeks prior. Arielle and I were more like siblings than master and servant. She was older than me by a few months, and we did everything together. We read the same books, stole pastries from the chef, played pranks on unsuspecting noble guests; we were inseparable. One of our more common activities however, was petty thieving around the center of Hossberg. When my parents were too busy arguing over finances and property management, and my tutors were busy drinking the antique wines behind their backs, Arielle and I would sneak out of the manor and out to the Markets of Hossberg. We would then proceed to pilfer all the ceramics, small crafts and delicious pastries from the markets to peddle off and make some coin. She was always reluctant to do so, but I always forced her to come. One unfortunate time, we were caught with our merchandise, and my family was furious. They couldn't believe the amount of dishonor she had brought to the family and decided I was being negatively influenced by her actions. They beat her severely and proceeded to kick her and her family out of the manor for good. We kept in contact even after she had left, but she never blamed me for the expulsion. 'It was about time I left anyway,' she would always say. And now, she became a Chantry sister; ten times more than what I have to my name."
At that particular moment, The Most Holy Divine Justinia walked into the main alcove, silencing many of the conversations in the room, and drawing many bows and hushed whispers towards her direction. Her stoic posture seemed to give off an aura of charisma and her eyes seemed to hold the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes. She scanned the room slowly, giving slight nods to each of the sisters and mothers who bowed in respectful welcome. Her eyes stopped on mine and a smile crept on her face. She walked with the regality of an Orlesian noble with purpose in each step as she made her way to us. She bowed her head slightly and with the voice filled with a century's wisdom and compassion, she spoke:
"Sister Arielle, I could not help but overhear your words to your friend here. However, you are too harsh towards your companion. Not everyone receives Andraste's benediction as early as you have, my daughter. Andraste called you at an early age to follow the Maker's will. Many do not hear her voice as clearly as you have, my child. Your young friend here is no less accomplished as you are. Andraste is all-knowing and her will is inclusive to everyone. Timing is not of any consequence. His time will come and his role will be significant in the fabric of the Maker's plan." Divine Justinia spoke with a warmth and comfort of a mother and the wisdom of a clan elder.
"Most Holy, you are most wise, I did not know you were present. It seems that I have much more praying to do." Arielle replied with a bow to Divine Justinia.
I glanced over quickly and returned my gaze back to Divine Justinia
"You are too kind, Most Holy," I replied with a bow, "but you flatter me with unnecessary praise. I have no path in my present life and I have done nothing in my life worthy of honor."
Divine Justinia put her hand under my chin and lifted my gaze to her eyes.
"My son, your time will come, I know it. It may not be now, but I assure you that Andraste has written you a part in the Maker's plan. Fear not that you have not seen it play out as of yet. Each person has their own time."
She paused for a moment and cupped my face as a mother would. She stood, turned to Arielle, and motioned to the private library in the back of the alcove.
"Sister Arielle, a private word with you, if I could?"
Arielle had a look of surprise and awe on her face.
"Of course, Most Holy, it would be my honor. Let us go."
Sister Arielle proceeded to guide Divine Justinia to the private library as they talked in hushed whispers. The library door closed and the entire alcove erupted into muted pandemonium. Every mother and sister turned to each other and began gossiping intensely. Clearly, Divine Justinia's decision to speak to my childhood friend was as shocking to me as it was to the gathered Chantry clerics. Before I could get swarmed with Chantry mothers interrogating me in regards to her, I slipped through the main mahogany doors and closed the doors behind me.
The midday sun was cresting over Lydes casting a rustic glow over the Orlesian landscape. I breathed in, smelling the periwinkle and honeysuckle bushes by the door. I walked over to an oak tree, and squatted down near its roots. I stretched out my legs on the soft grass and closed my eyes. The meeting with the Divine would take a while, wouldn't it?