Rite of Conscription
Summary:
Duncan has one obstacle in his way of recruiting Alistair. The Grand Cleric. And to be honest he'd rather have a boxing match with a dragon.
Will mainly follow from Duncan's and Alistair's POV.
Rated T for Swearing.
-Grand Cleric-
"Grand Cleric? The Grey Warden wishes to talk to you." The Grand Cleric looked up at Sister Ari in the doorway.
"Of course, show Duncan in." She said. Earlier she'd held a tourney in honour of Warden-Commander, Duncan, who'd visited. He'd seemed very impressed with the Recruits, asking about them. Hopefully he didn't want to recruit any of them. They were all to serve the Maker.
She glanced up as Duncan entered, still wearing that rugged armour of his. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, but always looked well more older, more like fifty. It was the eyes that did that, they looked like they'd seem too much death before their time.
"Your Grace, I hope I'm not disturbing you." He said with respect.
"You are not, Duncan. What is it you want to talk to me about?" She asked pleasantly.
"I'll go straight to the point, Grand Cleric. I wish to recruit one of your…" As soon as he uttered the word 'recruit' she jumped out of her seat and yelled:
"Excuse me! Did you say recruit?"
-Duncan-
Duncan froze as soon as she yelled:"Excuse me! Did you say recruit?"
Uh-oh. Maker help me.
"Y…yes I did. Just one person…" He was interrupted by the Grand Cleric slamming her fist down onto the desk. He took a deep breath and counted to ten.
She isn't going to give him up easily.
"Your Grace, All I ask for is one recruit. I won't force the rite of conscription, if he doesn't want to come."
"I doubt they'll forsake their duty to the Maker. Fine, who do you wish to recruit?"
I'm going to regret asking this because I think he'll happily join up.
"Alistair, Your Grace." He uttered before bracing his ears for the screech that was to come. The Grand Cleric's eyes widened till only the pupils showed.
"ALISTAIR? Out of all the Templars, you chose the one who is the most troublesome! He has ran away more than fifteen times over the fourteen years he's been here!" She screeched. Duncan's ears ached more than when that Dragon had roared right down his ear so many years ago.
Fifteen times? Alistair must really hate it here. Mind you with her around I don't really blame him.
"I got the impression earlier, that you don't really like him. And this doesn't really seem the place for him. He is good at fighting and his Templar abilities would be useful against emissaries…"
"No, you can't have him. He was given to the Chantry…" Anger began to rise in Duncan.
Why must she be so stubborn? Doesn't she hate the recruit?
"You mean forced into the Chantry? At the age of ten? He has not been allowed any say as to whether he wants to become a Templar." Duncan tried to keep his tone neutral. It wouldn't help the Wardens if he got thrown out flat on his face.
" At least let the lad have a say in this." The Grand Cleric's mouth open and shut like a fish out of water.
"Ari!" She yelled. The Sister quickly popped her head into the room, looking absolutely petrified.
"Find and bring Alistair here as quickly as you can." Ari nodded quickly and ran as fast as she could. The Grand Cleric gave Duncan a venomous glare and opened her mouth to argue. For some reason Duncan could imagine dragon horns on her head and fire coming out of her mouth.
Why can't I fight three dragons instead of dealing with this bitch? Forgive me, Maker. It would be so much more easier. Hell no, the last three Archdemons would be easier.
-Alistair-
Keeping up with Sister Ari when she was in a panic was very hard in normal clothes, let alone heavy templar armour. Alistair quickly cursed the fool who decided that Templars also had to wear skirts They were so impractical and made warriors look like girls (with the exception of Templars who were ladies).
"Sister Ari, how come the Grand Cleric wants to see me?" He asked for the fifth time, this time the mortified sister heard him.
"I don't think it is easy to explain. But I will say this if you have any cotton wool, shove it down your ears."
Oh dear… that means she's in a screechy mood. Maker please help me. Anything but the Grand Cleric in one of her hissy fits
About 5 metres from the Grand Cleric's study, his ears began to ring. He could hear her clear as day from here. He felt a pang of sorrow for whoever was in there.
"You cannot just claim whoever you want for your blasted cause…"
"I am not forcing him into this, not like you are forcing him to become a Templar!"
"The Order needs every able man and woman to safeguard the mages…"
"And we need every able solider and mage to keep the Darkspawn at bay…"
Alistair stopped at the doorway, as Sister Ari retreated to a safe distance.
Darkspawn? Is that the Warden-Commander? Are they talking about recruitment? Who… wait a minute… he wants to recruit me?
Saying a quick prayer to the Maker, Alistair pushed the door open to find both the Grand Cleric and the Warden Commander having a glaring contest, both red faced with anger.
"So who's winning?" He asked, trying to act innocent.
The look the Grand Cleric gave him, it could have killed a full grown dragon. While the Grey Warden smirked then quickly spoke before the Grand Cleric could start again.
"Alistair, I am Duncan, Warden-Commander of Fereldan. As you no doubt heard before you entered, Her Grace is refusing to let me recruit you." Alistair barely stopped his jaw from dropping to the floor.
Me? A grey warden? Hmm… death via Darkspawn vs. death of boredom/ lecturing? I think that I will take the Darkspawn.
"May I ask why you want to recruit me?" He asked, noticing the Grand Cleric smirking. Duncan ignored it the best he could.
"You aren't the best sword fighter but you are the most determined to see things though to the end. The Grey Wardens don't need the best warriors or mages. They need those who are strong of will and spirit. You're exactly what we need."
Alistair smiled at the compliments, then bowed his head.
"Commander. I'd be honoured to become a Grey Warden." Alistair immediately wished that he'd had one of those magic orbs that the Tevinters invented. That captured real life images. Why? Because he would have loved to preserve the look on the Grand Cleric's face.
She opened and closed her mouth a few times, speechless. Unfortunately, she found something to say just as Duncan began to walk to the door.
"NO! I FORBID IT!" She yelled in an commanding tone. Alistair could swear he heard the Grey warden mutter some expletives, as he tried to keep his calm.
"He has accepted my offer. That is final." Stated Duncan, his voice barely calm.
Should I retreat to a safe distance? Like, oh I don't know, maybe Antiva?
"I will not allow it. Alistair will stay here and take his vows as a Templar…"
"Then you leave me no choice but to use the rite of Conscription. I hereby conscript Alistair into the Grey Wardens. Now it is final." Then he pushed the door open without saying anything and left the room. Alistair hurriedly followed. He didn't want to be anywhere nearby when the Grand Cleric exploded.
Outside sisters, brothers and a few Templars had been listening. They scurried away as the Grand Cleric followed Duncan and Alistair.
"You cannot. You have no jurisdiction over the Chantry…""As neither do you over the Grey Wardens. The Chantry long ago agreed that we could use the rite of conscription on it's Templars or mages. Alistair gather your belongings and met me in the courtyard." Alistair nodded and headed to his room.
Surprisingly, none of the other recruits attacked him with their usual jibes or insults. They all looked at him, eyes full of loathing.
I am one lucky bastard.
It didn't take long for him to pack his stuff as he didn't really have much. Just a few books, his journal, clothes and other small, but needed items. As he left the dormitory, Peven, a son of a minor noble, yelled after him:"Have a nice death in an Ogre's stomach and good riddance, Bastard!" But nothing could dampen Alistair's elated mood.
"I'll miss you too, Peven." The bully wasn't used to Alistair actually having a comeback, he usually ignored Peven. So he hurled several obscenities at Alistair's back, one describing his mother as a female dog, Alistair's apparent lack of manhood and the last being how he'd remove said manhood.
"I love you too, Peven." Retorted Alistair as he left the room and hurried to the courtyard, barely restraining himself from laughing.
-Duncan-
Duncan watched the fire dance across the logs in the grey warden compound. He and the new recruit had ran as fast as they could from the Monastery, without a word having to be said. They both knew they didn't want be around when the Grand Cleric exploded.
When they'd reached the compound, Alistair had been a little nervous. When asked he'd said that turning up in Templar armour wasn't exactly going to help him make friends with the mages. Duncan had dismissed these notions and asked Grigor to help the lad find a different set of armour. The large man had scared Alistair initially but when he'd been called brother, it had calmed the lad.
There was a nervous knock on the door to Duncan's study. It had never looked like it had twenty years ago. It had been clean and tidy when Duncan had first gotten it. After an hour of attempting to move all the Warden documents in, the study had been condemned to a life of eternal messiness. Even the housekeeper had decided it was a lost cause.
"Come in." He commanded. The door opened nervously and Alistair gingerly stepped in. He no longer wore the cumbersome steel plate of a Templar but now a suit of grey iron splint mail. Alistair now seemed much more smaller, but he still looked a strong man.
"Commander…" He started, the words slightly sticking in his voice.
"Duncan. Titles are meaningless here in the Wardens. I guess on your way to the armoury ,Grigor introduced you to the others."
"Yes Com… Duncan. The mages actually didn't seem to bothered by me after Grigor explained that I hadn't taken my vows or wanted to be one."
Duncan got out of his chair and examined Alistair more closely.
"That is good to hear. Alistair, may I ask you some questions about how you came to the Chantry?" The lad's expression seemed to harden at the question.
"No. I don't. I was sent there by Arl Eamon at the Arlessa's insistence."
"Why would the Arlessa want you gone and why would Arl Eamon have the power to send you there?" Alistair took a deep breath.
"Well, it's easier if I start at the beginning. I'm a bastard, the fatherless kind. Mother died giving birth to me. She was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle. For some reason, the Arl had me taken care of, not fully, more of allowed to stay and raised up by the maids. Of course, people began to talk and I got pegged as the Arl's bastard. The… Arlessa didn't like the rumours and had me sent off to the Chantry. Happy?" Duncan raised one of his eyebrows. While he'd been speaking, Alistair had been glaring at the floor, fists clenched. He clearly didn't like talking about himself or how he ended up in the Chantry.
"And you have no idea who your father is?"
"I was told who he supposedly was. But he died long before I was born."
"Alistair. Eamon told me that you knew about your father. And I'm not talking about the fake father, Eamon made."
The lad's face was priceless as he realised what Duncan meant.
"Shit." Was all he could say, he then took a moment to mentally scold himself for swearing.
"So you know that my father's…"
"King Maric. Yes. In fact he asked me to keep an eye on you in the event Eamon failed at his task. I have to admit, it took a while to find where the Arl had hidden you. Now I believe it'll be dinner soon. Follow me to the dinner hall." Duncan walked past the blonde haired youth. Alistair stood there for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened and figure out how Duncan had acted so calmly.
After a while he shook his head and hurried after Duncan.
I always wondered how Alistair told Duncan about his heritage. In the end I decided that Duncan knew long before, like I dunno, when Alistair was born. Why? Cos' I believe in the equation Fiona+Maric= Alistair.