Daveth stared miserably at the ground, guards at either side of him. Cutting that purse was supposed to have been such an easy little thing. Hadn't he spent the last six years in Denerim doing just that? He'd steal just enough for one day to survive through the next, staying one step ahead of the guards. One slip up was all it took to get caught. Now he was as good as dead.
It was a busy day at the market and Daveth was hungry. He'd been wandering aimlessly around the kiosks when he spied the dark-haired man and his fancy battleskirt haggling with a merchant, a fat purse hanging off of his belt.
Daveth smirked as he thought of the meal he'd be eating that night. He walked slowly through the crowd toward his mark. He felt the rush of anticipation with each step, and slipped his hidden knife out of a pocket. The dark-haired man stood before him, back turned. Daveth reached out and cut the purse from the man's belt in one movement, catching it with his other hand. He grinned at the weight of it, and turned to slip away – and then the dark-haired man grabbed his wrists.
"I believe that's mine," the dark-haired man said in a voice as steely as his grip. Daveth kicked the man's shin and wriggled wildly out of the grasp. He ran blindly through the crowd, and heard the man yell, "Stop!" behind him. Daveth glanced over his shoulder and panicked. The dark-haired man was chasing him, and Maker be damned if he wasn't gaining on him. Daveth's head whipped forward and he pressed himself harder. All he had to do was make it to the alley. If he could do that, he'd be able to lose the dark-haired man.
Daveth's heart thudded in his chest. He was almost there. He glanced over his shoulder once more and saw the dark-haired man had fallen back. Daveth grinned widely at him – and ran straight into the arms of two of Denerim's finest – the city guard. They were hauling him off the gallows when the dark-haired man caught up to them.
"Wait," he said. "I'd like to speak to this young man."
"Sorry, Warden," one of the guards said. "We've got a noose with Daveth's name on it, and it's been waiting long enough."
Daveth groaned inwardly. He had tried to rob a bloody Grey Warden?
The Warden stepped forward. "I'm afraid it'll be waiting for some time. I'm invoking the Right of Conscription." The Warden turned and looked at him. "Daveth, is it? You'll be coming with me."
"What? Me? A Grey Warden?" Daveth gaped at him.
The Warden smiled. "You showed remarkable stealth and agility. If I had been any other man, you would have made off with my purse and been halfway across the city before I'd noticed. We need that kind of skill in the Wardens."
The guards shoved Daveth aside, and walked away, disgusted. Daveth stared at the Warden, dumbstruck.
"We should leave immediately," the Warden said. "The guards had no choice but to leave you to my care, but they won't be happy about it. It's best if we get on our way."
Daveth fell in step with the Warden. "So… sorry about that, Warden. I… well, if I had known who you were…"
"My name is Duncan, and if you had known who I was, you would have gotten caught picking someone else's pocket and ended up on the gallows."
Daveth nodded slowly, not daring to meet the Warden's gaze.
"Come, we've got a lot of ground to cover," Duncan said. "We're picking up another recruit in Redcliffe."
It would be four days on foot to reach the village. Duncan was decent enough company, although Daveth still felt sheepish around him. One night, he finally worked up the courage to ask Duncan the question that had been sitting on his tongue since Denerim.
"Why me?"
Duncan looked up at him from the fire. "I know what it's like to live each day wondering if you'll get a meal. You reminded me of myself."
They reached Redcliffe Village in the afternoon. Duncan said the other recruit, Ser Jory, was a former knight from Redcliffe, though he hailed from Highever now.
"I sent word to Highever for Ser Jory to meet us here at the inn," Duncan said, tilting his head toward a building to the east. "I have business with Arl Eamon at the castle. Go find Jory and meet me there."
Daveth grinned. "Any chance I could sit and have a pint or two while I'm there?"
"Take your time," Duncan chuckled. "But remember: you are a Grey Warden, and I expect you to act accordingly." With that, the Warden turned and made his way across the bridge.
Daveth headed toward the inn. Redcliffe Village hadn't changed much since he was a boy. Daveth had been there once when his father had gotten it into his head that he could be a trader. He remembered Redcliffe as being a bustling village, and from the looks of it, not much had changed.
The inn sat atop a hill, probably so the customers would want to drink more once they got there. Daveth opened the door and raucous laughter and music filled the air. A pretty bar wench greeted him with a smile and sauntered over.
"What can I get for you, love?" she asked. "We've got ale from the local brewery, wine… whatever strikes your fancy."
"How's about a kiss from a pretty lady?" Daveth winked at her. "No? Alright, I'll have a pint of your local brew. And I'm looking for a knight, Ser Jory. Do you know him?"
The wench inclined her head toward a man off in the corner. "I'll bring your ale over. My name's Bella if you need anything."
Daveth walked over and sat down next to him. "I hear you're Jory. Name's Daveth. Duncan recruited me in Denerim."
The knight turned and looked him up and down. "That's Ser Jory. You don't look like much of a knight. Did you win a tourney in Denerim?"
"I cut Duncan's purse and he caught me," Daveth grinned.
"You're a cutpurse?" the knight asked, scandalized.
"And a pickpocket, thank you very much." Bella came over with his ale, and Daveth took a long drink. "He says the Wardens could use a man like me. Might be the darkspawn have deep pockets."
"I… I cannot believe… I worked very hard to get here," Jory stammered. "Being recruited to the Grey Wardens is the greatest honor you could be given. I can't believe Duncan would take a… a…"
"Maybe I don't deserve to be here, but I am." Daveth shrugged, and glanced over at Bella. "Take a look at her, would you? I'd like to give her a taste of ol' Daveth, if you know what I mean."
Jory stared at him blankly.
"Don't tell me you've never been with a woman, Ser Knight?" Daveth laughed.
"I'll have you know I have a wife back in Highever," Jory said, color rising to his face. "She's heavy with child."
"And you've left her all alone in her time of need? How very noble of you." Daveth smirked.
The knight looked as if he were about to cry. "My wife understands that I was given a very important opportunity, and… she… I would never abandon her!"
"Don't wet your trousers, Ser Knight," Daveth said, rolling his eyes. "Duncan wants us to meet him up at the castle. He had business with the arl."
Jory stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his pint. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to go now."
Daveth shrugged, and drained the rest of his ale. "Maker, that hits the spot." He tossed a coin on the table and whistled at Bella. "Thanks, sweetheart, I'll come back to give you your tip later."
"You do that and you're like to get a swift kick in the ass," Bella laughed. Jory's face turned red and he walked quickly to the door.
Daveth shook his head at the knight and followed him out. They walked silently to the castle, though Jory kept shooting looks at him, with those large, blank eyes.
Daveth couldn't help but notice Jory's uncanny resemblance to a cow, and sniggered to himself.
They met Duncan at the castle and found the arl had offered them beds for the night. Daveth looked around at the castle, awestruck. There were so many trinkets and so many locked doors. It sent a chill down his spine just to think about it. But… he was a Grey Warden now, or at least, he would be. He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away.
Duncan joined them in the guest room and smiled wearily. "Get as much rest as you can. We leave for Ostagar in the morning."