The sea breeze licked her face gently as Celes walked along the harbor, towards the inner city of Amaranthine. Her slow trek to the city gave her time to think about what her next step would be. "I suppose… I would not be so fortunate as to be found by another noble." A dry laugh escaped her as she pondered the irony of her 'fortune'. "I… will travel to Denerim. There's always work to be found there."
Of all the various job opportunities that came to mind, only one appealed to her. She had set her mind to work towards becoming a proper mercenary; there were mercenary guilds in Denerim, after all. Her stride brought her to her destination, The Crown and Lion. She pushed the tavern door open and walked inside as she would have done any other ordinary day. But on that day, she felt all eyes in the room turn towards her.
At the age of 20, the cusp of adulthood, Celes had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. She had inherited her mother's long, flowing dark ebony hair that fell softly down her left side, slightly shielding her eye from the gaze of others. She had her father's deep emerald eyes, those any man would gladly find himself lost in; and her height was less than that of the average human due to her father's Elvhenan blood. She had Rose coloured lips, soft, with just a hint of overbite that added to its fullness. Undoubtedly, she drew attention to her whenever she was sent on an errand into the city, often to the tavern for supplies. But this time, she doubted it was her appearances that commanded the attention of the tavern's patrons, even Sorcha was looking at her.
All the glaring was making Celes uncomfortable. She walked straight to Sorcha, silencing her with a look and a shake of the head, and made a gesture at the backroom. Sorcha responded with an understanding nod, turned and walked; Celes followed. When the door was shut behind them, Celes let out a deep sigh, sank to the floor, and pulled her knees up under her chin.
"What happened, Celes?" Sorcha's high pitched voice floated over her head. "The whole tavern is talking about Arl Howe's death and treachery! Is this true? Tell me, Celes!" Sorcha stooped beside Celes, held her by her shoulders and gave her a light shake. "Yes." Am I reduced to one-word responses now? Celes shook her head for some semblance of clarity, looked Sorcha in the eyes, and said, "A messenger came, from the royal palace in Denerim. He said… He said that the arling of Amaranthine is now forfeit to the crown. Apparently, there was some form of treachery involved."
She had known for a very long time. Celes had the ability to conceal herself in the shadows, something she discovered very shortly after Arl Howe's first night visit. She would keep herself hidden, in dark corners of the room and it was as though she had become one with her surroundings, able to avert even the cleverest eye. It was this ability that allowed her to listen in on the Arl's conversation with his guards one day, a bit more than a year ago, discussing how best to siege Highever.
"Treachery?" Sorcha examined Celes' face for more details, as though the answers were written there. With a resigned sigh, she continued, "Yes, treachery. I never told anyone, but I overheard the Arl discussing plans to take over as the Teyrn of Highever. I suspect the estate fire in Highever was his responsibility." With nothing more to add, she pulled her legs in closer to her body. Sorcha's mouth rounded into an understanding 'oh', then sat down beside her.
Moments passed and Sorcha was getting restless. "What are you planning to do now?" Might as well get all the questions out of the way. "I will… travel. To Denerim. I may be able to find work there. As a mercenary, maybe?" She let the sentence hang.
"But, Celes, there are bandits roaming the trade routes! Or even worse, darkspawn! You can't go alone," she said. "Well, I'll just have to learn how to defend myself then, won't I?" She forced a smile. "I don't suppose there are any fighters in town who would teach me to wield a sword, hmm?" It was a futile question, one from which she expected no answer. Sorcha scratched her head, "Oh! There has been a woman… I can't quite remember her name, but she calls herself a duelist. Her ship, The Siren's Call, is docked by the harbour. She might be a corsair, but she could help you out. Maybe teach you a few moves?" Sorcha smiled, pleased with herself. "And I should just traipse into this… this pirate ship, then?" The smile widened. "Oh no, no. She comes into the Crown and Lion every night, she does. I think barkeep has a crush on her. Keeps having me ply her with drinks, on the house, mind you." She giggled, and Celes joined her at the thought of that grumpy old dwarf blushing at the sight of a pretty corsair.
"That's settled, then. I'll return this evening to see if I can get her to teach me how to defend myself in the Wilds." Celes started to stand up. "In the meantime, I think I'll pay a visit to Glassric. It wouldn't be nice to ask for training without a weapon." She dusted off her skirt, and started heading to the door. "I'll see you tonight, Sorcha."
"Oof." Celes found herself pulled into a surprise embrace. Sorcha had come up behind her and given her a big hug. She smiled. Sorcha had always been like a little sister to her, it would be disheartening to leave her behind. "Thanks for everything, Sorcha." She returned the hug and left.
The backdoor shut behind her as she exited the tavern and crossed the fence to get to Glassric's Wares, the local smithy. Glassric looked up as he saw her enter, "G'day to you, Celes. Whaddaya want?" Celes nodded at him and returned the greeting. "Hello, Glassric. I'm here to… trade." Her eyes refused to meet his after he arched his right brow in suspicion. "Ah, well come on over then." He dropped his steel and hammer and waved her over.
Celes walked over to the counter at the side of the store as Glassric wiped his sweaty hands on a towel before joining her. "Sit down, sit down, girl. So tell me, what do you have to trade?" Shifting slightly in her seat, Celes reached for the rings in her pocket and pulled out a few. "How much would these get me?" she asked.
Glassric frowned as he picked up one of the rings for closer examination. "Ohoho… One would wonder where you got these from, girl. No matter." He dismissed the origin of the rings as soon as he raised the question. "These are highly valuable, lyrium branded rings. Except that one, of course, it does not have the faint blue glow of the others, but still…" Glassric pointed at one of the less spectacular rings, which had a silver sheen to it, and runes carved into its inner rim. "Hmm… Curious, indeed. This ring has elven runes carved on it. Perhaps you should hold onto this for the time being. I cannot say for sure its value, but I'm sure the smith in Denerim could help you. Ol' Wade is a smart one, he is. Always dealing with rare and magicked armours of all sorts." He set the ring back down, waiting for a response from Celes. When he received none, he continued. "I can give you twenty sovereigns for the other rings. Lyrium branded items are rare indeed."
Celes had never held more than 2 sovereigns in her lifetime, and even then she was running an errand for the arlessa. She quickly agreed. "I trust your appraisal. Twenty sovereigns for the rings then." She picked up the ring with the elvhen runes on it, and slid it on the middle finger of her left hand. It was almost as though the ring adjusted its size to fit her finger, as it could be put on with great ease. However, her thoughts were interrupted by the soul-lifting jingle of coins as Glassric dropped a pouch on the countertop. After counting the coins, she nodded and thanked him. "I would have mentioned this earlier, but I need a light weapon." Glassric looked at her curiously. "I also need a bow and some throwing knives." She added after a thought. Papa used to be a hunter in his tribe; he must have used a bow. As for the throwing knives… Well, she had to have something to do in the kitchens when waiting for the Howes to finish eating. She had practice.
Glassric rose from his chair and went to the end of the store where some of the equipment lay on display to gather a few items. He then vanished into the back of the smithy, and reappeared holding a dagger which had symbols adorning its pommel, hilt and blade. He returned with the goods, laid them out on the counter, and proceeded to explain his selection of weapon. "So… I'm assuming you will be travelling." Celes nodded. "Well, it is not my place to question. But know this, these are dangerous times, and only a fool goes venturing out of the city walls without proper equipment. This here is the Talon of the Skies." He picked up the engraved dirk. "A beauty, she is. Some traveller sold it to me some many years ago. She got her name from the symbols here, you see. Symbols of the Avvar goddess, Lady of the Skies. Fool didn't know its value at the time, gave him 20 silvers for it." He let out some strangled mix of a cough and a laugh. "Well, take it, girl. You're too petite for the long swords."
"I… Thank you." Celes reached out for it. "Hey, you don't think you're getting it for free, do you?" Glassric clutched the blade to his chest. "Have you any more of those fancy rings?" Celes sighed and reached into her pocket and removed the remaining three rings she had meant to save for emergencies. "You're a shrewd merchant. Two rings for the dagger and that backpack. Leave the armour, it looks made for a dwarf." And right she was, as the armour was too heavy and too small for her. She stood and walked to the displays, eyeing the equipment as she went. "I'd like these throwing knives too. Seems you don't have any bows… Pity." She turned and asked, "Do we have a deal?" Glassric nodded.
Celes was looking at the display at Octham's Goods as she heard someone call her name. Turning towards the direction of the sound, she saw Master Henley standing outside his shop, Henley's Apothecary, waving at her. "Celes! Over here!" Amused, she started walking over, Henley was never one to shout, nor wave at people from such a distance. He was scratching his moustache as Celes approached him. "Hello, Henley. It's good to see you." She started with a greeting, always safe to start with a greeting. "Cut the crap, Celes. I know you're leaving town." He gave her a stern look. "How did you –", she didn't tell him that. "Never mind how I knew. The matter here is: how could you NOT come to me?" Oh no… It's the mock hurt look. Not the puppy dog eyes… The big hulk of a man started pouting and looking at her with hurt eyes. She grimaced, "Argh… You know I hate that look, Henley. Well, I'm here now. What would you have of me?" He chuckled and took hold of her hand, ushering her inside.
"Silly girl. You know I can't have you dying on me out there." He started as they entered the shop. It was warm inside, with little bottles stacked neatly on the shelves. A small boy was picking the roots of some herb at the corner of the shop. Henley noticed this and walked over to him while Celes examined the shelf contents. "Hey there, lad. You know I can't have you touchin' every little thing in the store, much less picking off the roots of my precious herbs," he said in a soft tone. The boy smiled and held out a flower, saying "Bubbly!" Henley laughed and patted his head, accepting his flower.
"What's wrong with the boy?" Celes asked as he walked towards her. Henley sighed and said, "Lyrium poisoning, I'm afraid. I reckon he inhaled too much lyrium powder. But as to where he got his hands on that," he shook his head, "Maker knows. But back to you, girly. As I said, can't have you dyin' on me. So here." He grabbed a handful of poultices and stamina draughts off the shelves. "You'll be needing these. Also…" He went back to the boy's corner and picked out some of the roots similar to those he was picking at. "These," he held one out, "are called Elfroot. You will find many of these growing along the roads, if you know what to look for. They're used to make poultices, and I'm here to show you how."
Celes stayed at Henley's apothecary until the evening, absorbing every bit of information Henley could give her. He taught her how to make basic health poultices, how to reuse flasks, how to treat injuries and how to use poison. It was surprising that he would know this much about poisons, but Celes dismissed any stray thoughts. He doesn't pry, and I won't either, she thought. "I see you've gotten yourself a blade too." He nodded at the wrapped up dagger that lay beside her on a chair. "You'll need a whetstone then." He bent under the counter and picked up a rectangular case which he opened to reveal a white stone lubricated with water. "This here sharpening stone only needs water to work. Don't put oil on it, not that you would, since oil is harder to find than water, but oil would damage the stone." Again he reached up to scratch at his moustache, "Easy to carry, store and use. This stone will allow you to polish and sharpen your blade altogether. Make sure you don't lose it." He shut the case and handed it to her. Celes looked up at Henley, "Why are you doing so much for me, Henley?" His eyes softened, he laid hand on her shoulder and said, "You're a good girl, Celes. You never deserved to be a chambermaid for the Howes. I wish you well."
When Celes returned to the tavern that night, she heard shouting inside. Hesitant, she pushed the tavern door open once again and stepped inside. In the middle of the tavern, there were two groups of men shouting at each other; and Sorcha was standing behind the bar, a frightened expression on her face as she stood stiffly, holding her tray against her apron. Celes retired to a shadowed corner of the tavern and observed. It turns out one of the groups were fanatics of Teyrn Loghain and the other group were in support of Prince Alistair becoming the new king. She had not heard much of politics in Ferelden from within the Howe estate, so she listened in. The messenger who had arrived and departed earlier that day left news of Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir's death at the hands of Alistair Theirin, who was to be the new king of Ferelden. This Alistair, whoever he may be, must be a great man to command such support in Amaranthine, Celes thought to herself. She had only ever heard of the rumors regarding King Maric's bastard son, and just discovered he was a Grey Warden as well. This should prove interesting for Ferelden's future.
It was just then, a dark-skinned, redheaded woman clad in a leather cuirass walked in. She carried with her 2 sheathed blades, a longsword and a poniard. She seemed unperturbed by the bedlam in the centre of the room, and walked through the middle of it towards the bar. That agitated some of the men.
"Hoi there, lady." One of the Loghain supporters shoved at her, "Ye come right in and walk through the middle of our talk like ye own the bloody place now, huh?" He grabbed her by the arm, "Ye think yer better than us?" Celes sighed; don't these men have anything better to do than pick fights with people? She was just about to get up and help the woman when she heard… "You will lose the grip, or lose your hand, ser."
Oh. A fight was brewing right under her nose. Celes reached for her knives, which she currently kept in a hidden pocket on the inside of her sleeve. The men had ugly snarls on their faces. The other group of men had retreated to the other end of the room and left only the dark-skinned woman and the Loghain supporters in the centre of the room. Celes slipped quietly into the shadows and made her way around the other side of the room behind the men.
"You'll regret saying that…" The tall man shoved her again. She was not very happy with that last shove, as she proceeded to unsheathe her sword and dagger, a wry smile on her face. "I warned you, ser." The man took a few steps back as the rest of his company fled. He scowled and grabbed the steak knife on the table. There came gasps from patrons in the tavern.
Upon seeing this, Celes launched four of the knives deftly and pinned the man's trousers to the wooden floor without his notice. The woman must have caught sight of something as she lowered her weapons and smiled. "What's this? Ye backing down now, little lady?" he put as much sarcasm as he could into the sentence. The man tried to lunge forward but could not, as his breeches were pinned to the ground. "Hur..?" He looked down. At the same moment, the woman stepped forward and gave him a swift kick below the belt in a very painful place. The man grunted and keeled over.
The woman threw her head back and laughed, as did most of the patrons of the tavern. Celes walked over to retrieve her knives, and as she stood up, she was greeted by a cheeky glint in the woman's eyes. "I could have dealt with him by myself. But your help is appreciated, nonetheless. My name is Isabela. Might I know the name of the person to whom I owe my gratitude?" Isabela crossed her arms over her chest. This must be the corsair, Celes thought. "Well met, Lady Isabela. I am Celes." Celes held the four small knives in her hand and slid them into the pocket in her sleeve. Dusting off her skirt, she smiled at Isabela and asked, "Care for a drink? I could use one after all that." Then came another laugh as she nodded and stepped over the man who was cringing on the floor. "A round of drinks for the house!" She yelled back at the bartender, who blushed, nodded and hurriedly started filling up the mugs. Smirking at the Loghain fanatics who were kneeling beside their fallen comrade, the two ladies walked to the corner table of the tavern.
When they were seated and served, Celes turned to Isabela. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, Lady Isabela, but are you the duelist I have heard so much about?"
Isabela turned to face her, "Hmm… Drop the lady bit. Call me Isabela. And yes, I call myself a duelist because I honed my skills in duels with warriors I encountered over the years. I fight with quickness and wit, rather than with brute force and strength. Why do you ask?"
"I see. I ask because I wish to learn from you." A quick, short answer. Isabela cocked her head to one side, "You wish to learn from me? Pray tell, why?" It wouldn't hurt to tell her. "I wish to travel to Denerim, perhaps find work as a mercenary. My employer has recently been… killed. And I find myself in need for a new purpose in life. But first, I need to learn how to defend myself."
"Interesting…" Isabela ran her eyes down Celes' body, with only the briefest of pauses on her chest. "You seem to possess a certain grace and finesse that would benefit you in learning such a fighting style. And you remind me a great deal of my last student." What is that look she's giving me? "Very well. I will teach you. But first, I wish to get to know my potential student a little better. After this drink, you will honor me with a game."
Celes laughed and lifted her mug. "Cheers to that, then."
"Cheers."
Author's Note: I am aware that some words may be difficult to pronounce, especially some original names. So, when I feel there is need, I will add a small pronunciations section at the end of the chapter.
Pronunciations/Explanations: -
Celes : Se (rhymes with 'sir') - less
Elven and elvhen : Elven is a human adaptation of what the elves call themselves, that is, elvhenan. Celes' father was an elf, and thus she calls them elvhenan.