The Arbor Wilds

16th of Harvestmere

Jeremie was woken by the sound of gentle creaking and the sound of children playing. He sat up and came face-to-face with a hunting dog, pale brown fur and war paint rising to give it a fearsome expression. The dog started barking, and Jeremie yelped, backing away from it.

An elf charged into the room. He had short brown hair and and fierce brown eyes, and his face was tattooed with designs resembling tree branches. Jeremie realized that he was Dalish. "Be calm, Revas." The elf said, and reluctantly, the dog stopped barking, though his haunches were still raised. "So. You're finally awake."

"What's going on? Where am I?" Jeremie asked. "Who are you?"

With a sigh, the elf folded his arms and said, "My name is Ulrich. You were ambushed by bandits that had wandered too close to our camp. Do you remember that?"

"Bandits?" He asked. He rubbed his head. "I remember being attacked... but I wasn't ambushed. I was trying to find my horse... and they'd captured her."

Ulrich raised his eyebrows, as if this had surprised him. "So, that was your horse? It explains why she was so intent on following you." He said.

"So Cinnamon is here?" He said, preparing to standing. "Good. I was worried that she wouldn't survive the coming winter."

Ulrich opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it. Jeremie tried to stand, but his leg crumpled under his weight, and he cried out in pain. "Ir abelas. I meant to tell you that I had sprained your ankle to hinder any attempts to sabotage our camp." The Dalish said, a slight smirk on his face. He grabbed the mage's staff and tossed it to him. "Here. Use this to keep your balance. The Keeper wants to see you."

"Why?"

"Because Aelita thought your life was worth saving. The Keeper wants to know why." He said. As Jeremie pulled himself off of the ground, Ulrich took an intimidatingly close step towards him. "Know this, shem. I don't know why Aelita wanted to help you, but if you hurt her, I will end you painfully. Understood?" Jeremie nodded, and the Dalish hunter moved out of his way.

The camp was beautiful. The elves were smiling and happy, laughing as they spoke and told stories. Some of the teenagers were practicing stringing their bows, and some of the adults were sewing warmer clothes for the coming winter. Jeremie was almost knocked off of his feet. He turned to see Cinnamon standing behind him, nuzzling his tattered Circle robes.

He stroked the Palfrey's nose, and then looked around. He spotted an aravel that was almost unnoticeably larger than the others and limped towards it. Cinnamon watched him for half a second before trotting ahead.

Jeremie opened the curtains. Two elven women stood inside, though they had not yet noticed him. The older was almost as tall as a human woman, her long blonde hair pulled into a loose bun. Her tattoos resembled pages of a book. The younger was only slightly older than him, perhaps a few months at most, with short, messy red hair. Her tattoos were obviously meant to resemble a bow and arrow. Both these women were mages. "Those men were no common bandits," the younger elf said, her accent vaguely Tevinter.

"Da'len, you draw connections where none exist." The older elf said. "You have no proof to support your claim."

"Why would bandits come here? No caravans or travelers come this way." She argued.

Before the older elf could reply, she spotted the Circle mage. "Enough. We will speak no more of this." She said before turning her attention to Jeremie. "Your eyes have finally opened, I see. Your fears were unfounded, Aelita."

The younger elf, presumably Aelita, shrugged. "He was injured badly. I believe my fears were completely understandable." They returned their attention to Jeremie.

The older elf forced a smile. "Allow me to welcome you to our clan, human. I am Keeper Anthea, and this is my First, Aelita." She looked to the younger elf. "It was she who insisted that we aid you."

"Thank you for helping me." Jeremie said, bowing. The young elf seemed flustered before offering a curtsy, which the older elf frowned at.

"The Keeper did most of the work," Aelita said, "I simply asked that she help you."

"Yes, your brother said as much. He also said that you wanted to see me."

Anthea nodded. "Aelita and I have been speaking. She believes your injuries are her fault."

Aelita looked to her feet. They were uncovered, and her toes painted a rosy pink, the same color as her facial tattoos. "Ulrich and I were being chased by bandits. I saw you and your companion during our escape, and I set a tree on fire to distract you."

Jeremie's eyes widened. "That was you?" He looked more closely at her. "Yes... I remember your face."

"At least you had an excuse to escape." She reasoned.

"From what? The bandits? Counterproductive, seeing as how I wound up at their camp anyway."

She shook her head. "Your companion was a templar, yes? You must have escaped from her."

"You think I've gone apostate?" Jeremie asked incredulously.

"Of course! Why else would you not have returned to her?" Aelita asked.

He narrowed his eyes and explained. "Ser Laura is in possession of my phylactery. If I wanted to escape, I would have tried to destroy it. I didn't return to her because I feared for the life of my horse."

The Keeper suddenly seemed alarmed. "A templar is tracking you?" He nodded. "Elgar'nan! Why didn't you say so?"

"I... was unconscious."

"Aelita, tell the hunters to be on the lookout of a female templar." Anthea ordered. When Jeremie pleaded for her life, she added that they merely stall her until the Keeper had a chance to parlay with her. Aelita obliged, scurrying out of the aravel. A black cat that the Circle mage hadn't seen ran after her. "I hope you appreciate the chance you've been given, shemlen." Anthea said.

"I do. You have my thanks." Jeremie said, bowing to the Keeper. She did not bow nor curtsy. This, he reasoned, was understandable.

"Do not be... offended if many refuse to talk to you. You are human and a stranger, and a dangerous enemy if provoked. We must exercise caution."

"I understand." He nodded. "Though spraining my ankle was unnecessary."

She laughed. "Perhaps. Ulrich has a protective spirit. You must forgive him." To say she walked out of the aravel was insufficient. She glided out, an air of mystery about her. Jeremie examined the decorations before following.


At around midnight, commotion woke the slumbering elves. Jeremie startled with the rest of them, but moved slower. He heard Cinnamon gallop by, and he did his best to move faster.

A crowd had gathered near the primary entrance to the camp. "In the name of the Knight Commander, I demand that you hand over the mage Jeremie Belpois." The voice was distinctly Laura's.

"What if he's dead?" Ulrich asked.

"His body remains here, and I must claim it so it can be attended to." There was something in her voice. Sadness?

"He lives," Aelita said, and Jeremie could almost hear the glare she have her brother, "but what if he does not wish to go back?"

And again, the glare Laura must have given Aelita was audible. "Then I am required to apprehend him, no matter the cost."

An argument was brewing, and Laura's life-and possibly his own-hung on the outcome. "I believe I can speak for myself." He declared. The elves watched him a as he limped forward. Laura pushed past them. "Ser Laura, I'm sorry for any inconvenience I've caused you. I was simply trying to find Cinnamon when things got... out of hand."

She looked at him for a long time. "Why did you not return?" She asked, as if nothing else he had said mattered.

Aelita took a step forward, and Laura's hand moved closer to the hilt of her longsword. "He is injured, and believed that you would find him." She folded her arms. "Which you did. Your investigation is over."

"How bad are your injuries?" She asked, not looking at the elven girl. "We can't stay here for long. We have to get moving. The map won't make itself."

Jeremie looked down to his foot. He'd done his best to bandage it, though one of the elves had seen it and redid it, claiming that he could not allow such a terrible job to continue. "My ankle is sprained. I shouldn't walk on it." He looked back to the templar. "I should stay off it for a while, and even with magic, it'll probably take about two or three weeks to heal."

Laura made no effort to hide her exasperation. "Wonderful," she said sarcastically, "but we should get moving. There are certain things here that we should be away from."

"He is in no condition to move!" Aelita protested, now grabbing Laura's shoulder so all her attention was on the First. "He needs rest! If you were to face the monsters in the Wilds, you would surely die, especially if your healer is injured!"

Laura straightened her back, and now, so did Aelita. Laura was almost half a head taller than Aelita. Despite being shorter and lacking proper armor, the elf girl was not intimidated by the templar. Threatened, on the other hand, was up for debate. "What would you suggest?" Laura asked, though it was obvious that it was a courtesy rather than actual concern.

"Rest here, at least for a few days." She said, not looking away. Ulrich tried to get her to back off, but she wouldn't. "Until the swelling dies down, at least. Is this acceptable?"

"And if I refuse?"

"You've no idea how many Dalish arrows are aimed at you right now."

"Though stung with a hundred arrows, though suffering from ailments both great and small, his heart was strong, and he moved on." A popular saying of Chanters, Jeremie noted she had likely only said it for intimidation, as bravado to claim she was more durable than she really was.

Aelita, oddly enough, laughed. "Oh, please." She said as her face became stone once more, "it's obvious you don't believe that any more than I do." Laura narrowed her eyes, but she reluctantly agreed to rest at the camp. Something almost like relief flashed across the First's face.