Chapter 3: Foundations
Dederick barely manages to stifle a yawn as he steps out of his cabin into the light chill of dawn. Lady Cassandra herself woke him up with a knock on his door not ten minutes before, inviting him to discuss their planned journey to the Hinterlands over breakfast at the tavern. He stretches lightly after shutting the door behind him, and nods his greeting to the few stragglers miserable enough to be awake this early in the morning.
He groans lightly at the thought and mentally smacks himself. Maker, he was a member of the guard. He should be used to this. Biting back another yawn, he starts toward the tavern before stopping by the cobble steps leading out of the town's gates. He purses his lips together for a moment, wondering if it's even worth bothering to check if the Commander was already up and about. The sun was just barely starting to peek over the horizon, after all.
It wouldn't hurt to check. The seeker could wait a few more minutes. With his mind made up, he clambers down the steps to find the camp still largely asleep. Cullen, though, was hard not to spot, especially with that fur mantle of his.
"Mornin', Commander." Dederick drawls out groggily as he steps toward the weapon rack Cullen was inspecting.
"Are we back at this so soon?" Cullen chuckles before turning to face him, a smile on his lips, "Good morning, Herald."
Dederick scowls, "No, but right now, watchin' over your men, you're the Commander, Commander."
"I suppose you're right." Cullen nods before Culenn stares at him almost scrutinizing, "You're not wearing your armor." He states.
"What?" He looks down at himself before glancing back up at Cullen. He was wearing his civvies: just some plain leather boots, tan breeches, a dark blue tunic with some slight silver embroidery and a thick leather belt strapped loosely around his stomach. He's not really sure if his headband counts, considering he's got it on almost always. "Should I be donnin' my armor at all times? I don't sleep in it, you know."
"I – that's not what I meant."
"Do you sleep in yours?"
"Of course not."
"Well, there you go." Dederick offers him a sheepish grin before he considers what Cullen meant. "Is it that strange to see me like this?"
Cullen huffs a little, looking a bit embarrassed. "The Inquisition is still young, and with things being as volatile as they are, I fear there may be attempts on your life."
"Oh." Dederick frowns and scratches at the fuzz on his cheek idly while stepping toward the weapon rack, "I suppose I shouldn't have cozied up to the idea of being safe as an apostate." He grabs one of the swords and gets a feel for its weight before flourishing it a few times, "Freshly made." He notes. These must be the blades that they needed supplies for. He'll have to give Harritt his complements later.
Cullen's face is largely unreadable when he speaks again, "Was there something you needed?"
Dededrick smiles before gingerly retuning the blade to its spot, "Are you busy, Commander?"
"Not… at the moment, no." Cullen tilts his head a bit, looking both curious and suspicious. "Why?"
"Lady Cassandra invited me to discuss our plans for today's trip to the Hinterlands over breakfast. I figured I'd extend the invitation to you as well, Commander."
"Ah." Cullen mulls it over for a few seconds before answering. "I don't know. We've received a number of recruits – locals from Haven and some pilgrims. They need the training. None made quite the entrance you did."
"Believe me, I didn't intend for that."
Cullen laughs, "I'd be worried if you did, but…"
"But nothin'. You're tryin' to tell me your trainin' regimen can't wait a half hour?"
Cullen brings his hands up in surrender, "Maker, if you aren't stubborn. Alright. I'll be but a minute." He turns to enter one of the larger tents.
"Stubborn's the word you're lookin' for, Commander." Dederick calls out to his back, only to have Cullen wave an armored hand at him from behind. He can't help but snigger at that and turns to look at the camp more closely. Cullen was right. There were more tents than he'd actually cared to notice before. More tents meant more people, though, and as he stood waiting, more and more started waking up. It doesn't take long for the murmurs to start up with the recruits eyeing him. Him, the Herald of Andraste. Suddenly he wishes he had his armor.
"Alright." Cullen says somewhere behind him, "Lead the way, Herald."
Dederick looks over his shoulder at him and tries to smile but fails, "With pleasure." He mutters.
Cullen looks about ready to ask what's wrong before Dederick starts walking, if only to manage avoiding the eyes and words of the curious. It doesn't take long to reach the Tavern, and the waft of spiced meats and herbs is a welcome scent to greet. He can feel himself unwind a little once he's inside the small, cozy building. He stops at the entrance to just revel in the smells for just a few seconds before making his way over to where Cassandra sat.
"Ah, there you are." Cassandra waves him over but raises her brows when she spots Cullen over his shoulder. "Commander Cullen, I'm surprised to find you joining us."
"Our Herald can be quite persuasive," Cullen quips as they take their seats at the table.
"Stubborn." Dederick corrects while propping his elbows on the table, "That's what he means to say."
"Oh?" Cassandra asks, glancing to Cullen for a confirmation only to have him look away.
"Don't grow up fightin' raiders and bandits without getting' a li'l stubborn." Dederick grins at the two of them as though he were proud of the fact, which he is, he figures.
"I was meaning to ask you –" A loud gasp interrupts Cassandra and draws all their attention.
"Oh, Maker." The young barmaid looks awestruck while she stares at Dederick, trying to catch a glimpse of the mark hidden under a glove. "You're him. You're the Herald of Andraste." She fidgets with her hands as she looks him and down as though remembering something, "And you were sent to show us we were wrong to be afraid of the mages. I have always respected magic!" She says a little too gladly, "I think the Maker blessed your rebellion and…" She finally seems to notice the looks the three of them are giving her and clears her throat, "I mean, I'm Flissa. Can I get you all something to eat and drink?"
Dederick gives her as charming a smile as he can manage, "That'd be lovely, Flissa, and please, relax. I'm just a man."
"Of course, right away, your lordship!"
Once she's gone off into one of the back rooms, Dederick lets the mask drop and gives Cassandra an exasperated look, "I'm goin' to have a lot of that comin' my way, aren't I?"
Cassandra nods curtly at him, "Most likely."
"That's just…" fuckin' dreadful. "Lovely." He grinds out.
As they waited for their meals, Cassandra decided to go over the details of their plan to reach Mother Giselle. It wouldn't be easy considering the fact there was an almost all-out war going on between the rebel mages and Templars. Mother Giselle just so happened to stuck right in the middle of the crossfires, and they'd have to fight mage and Templar alike to reach her. Cullen gave him a few tips on how to battle members of the order and mentioned a horsemaster he should try and make contact with if he could spare the time. Once the food got there, the mood immediately lightened and made way for more casual chatter.
"I appreciate your counsel, Cullen. I'm glad to have you as one of my advisors. The Inquisition would be lackin' without you." He gives him a wide smile which only seems to make Cullen hesitate. He turns to Cassandra then and offers her a smaller, more grateful smile. "And you, Cassandra. Havin' a Seeker beside me is a privilege. I'm also glad you aren't shacklin' me any longer." He adds with a grin.
"Your skin's marked." Cassandra points out.
Dederick glances down at his forearms where both lines and solid shapes crawl up the skin hidden under linen and smirks at the seeker. "Oh, those? Aye. Got them when I was younger, but that's a story a night where there are drinks."
Cassandra makes a noise of disgust, but doesn't hide the faint smile that follows. "Truth be told, you are handling this much better than I had anticipated, Herald. Why is that?" Cassandra asks, sounding genuinely curious.
"Just Dederick, please." He mutters with a mouth full of food before downing it with a swig from his mug of tea. He wipes his mouth before flashing her a sad smile and thumbing at the chain around his neck until a small, round vial poked out from under his tunic. He dangles it for both of them to see, "This is water from the coast of Alamar." The water shimmers slightly when he shakes it, "It's enchanted to never dry out or freeze." He sighs softly before taking it into his hand and pulling it close to his chest, "I have to believe the Inquisition can change everythin'. If it can't – If I can't do anythin' – then I won't be able to go back. I have to try, and if that means bein' the Herald of Andraste, then so be it."
"Does that mean you consider Alamar your home?" Cassandra takes a sip from her drink, "Are you eager to go back?"
Dederick stares into his mug, watching the small trails of steam trail from it. "I'm… not sure." He admits. "My whole life feels I've been fightin' for somethin' I can never have. I don't even know what it is. A name? Land? Respect?" He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes before his nerves have him slamming down on the table. He stays like that a few seconds until a hand places itself on his shoulder. He opens his eyes to follow the arm back to Cullen who gives him a sympathetic smile.
"You're not alone in this. "
Dederick lets his hand drop and sighs. "You're right. Sorry. We should get going soon, Cassandra."
Cassandra nods, "I agree."
"Well, then." Cullen starts to rise. "I should get back to the recruits. Can't have the Commander of the Inquisition's forces be absent, can we?"
Dederick laughs and stands up as well, "I'll make it up to you once we get back. Maybe I'll help you in trainin' them, aye?" He stretches his arm and offers his forearm to shake.
Cullen blinks at the gesture but grins nonetheless when he grips his forearm and gives it a firm shake. "I look forward to it.