It had taken only the quarter of an hour for all the camps to go from their regular state of semi-orderly training, patrolling and preparations to a formal assembly, every soldier down to the last man in their armor and with weapons at their side, all standing at attention in straight rows as the group of Grey Wardens entered the field.
Nicolas was in the second row of his garrison with a good view of the newcomers, and he was not impressed.
Well, it was always something of a sight to see men marching, armor and weapons gleaming in the sunlight, the steady thumping of boots on the ground thunderous enough to send a vibration echoing through the body. It created anticipation, of fight and of battle, of blood pumping through your body and every muscle trembling with strength and fatigue and rush – and Nicolas almost wished that it had been darkspawn rather than Wardens entering the camp.
But they were an odd mix of people, of men and women, of humans, elves and even dwarves. Some wore heavy armor, others only chainmail shirts; some bore shields, others crossbows; yet others daggers and a few of them – staffs. For all their uniformity in motion, they were a diverse bunch of people, and there were only about twenty of them all in all.
Twenty people. These hundreds of garrison soldiers, enforcements to another garrison of several hundred men, had waited for the arrival of twenty people? They had to be something extra-ordinary indeed, if they could make such a difference with so few men.
Nicolas watched them move past the rows of attending soldiers, their gazes guarded as they met the eyes of the soldiers watching them. There was no apparent leader of their ranks and while they moved in step, they were not strictly speaking marching. Rather than moving in rows of four or five, they moved in a group, a circle. It was not until they reached the group of Captains, assembled in a group of their own, that a tall, broad man separated himself from the others and stepped forward, soon followed by an elven man who Nicolas assumed to be some sort of second-in-command.
It was impossible to discern what was being discussed between the officers, but Nicolas imagined that anything of importance would be announced soon enough. Considering there was anything of importance being said, of course. He doubted it.
After some time, the Warden leader went back to his group, clearly giving them orders, while the elf remained with the Captains. The Wardens broke off into groups of fours, each smaller group repositioning themselves by one of the gathered garrisons – apparently assigned to them, in some way and for some unknown purpose – and some while later, the assembly broke up and every garrison returned to their respective camps.
Had they been an army proper, Nicolas guessed, only the most senior officers would have been entitled to join the deliberations with the Wardens, later to relay the most relevant information to their own smaller segments of soldiers. As it was, however, the Captain of the Fortalan garrison decided to have the soldiers informed and instructed directly by the Wardens, in groups of about twenty at a time, so as not to interfere too much with the ordinary dealings of the day.
It was early evening before Nicolas' group met the Wardens. The evening meal had been served and the patrols had recently shifted, leaving most of the men remaining in camp eager for sleep or the company of women and drink. Nicolas would have much rather enjoyed another rendezvous with Julien, but he was on patrol and Nicolas was stuck with the Wardens.
But it was an interesting group, to be sure.
There was a male dwarf, his hair and beard a murky shade of brown but decorated with intricate braids, his face tattooed with black markings that gave him a menacing look – which was effectively countered by a wide grin and surprisingly blue eyes. There was also a mage, almost the perfect opposite of the dwarf as he was thin, lean and tall whereas the dwarf was, naturally, short and broad and wide. The mage was average-looking to the point of ridicule, impossible to describe in words as his features were all bland and dull. And then there was the other two.
They had to be related in some way. Like mirrors, they were, both tall and with identical sets of armor and large greatswords, both with white hair cropped short, their voices the only chief difference between them, distinguishing one as male and the other as female.
A table had been placed in the middle of the open square in the middle of camp, on which small items had been placed to illustrate the city of Val Mort, the location of the garrison camps and the assumed location of the darkspawn. It was the dwarf who spoke, gesturing at the pieces, moving them at intervals – sometimes asking one of his fellows for their opinion or clarification, and finally letting the soldiers ask questions.
"How long before they get here?" Alec asked. "The darkspawn."
"We believe it to be a matter of days" the human warrior replied, after exchanging glances with the others. "They are closing in rapidly."
"But what's taken them so long?" another man broke in. "When we got news, everyone thought the town would be infected long before we got here."
"That is not the darkspawns' fault" the mage interjected, his voice surprisingly melodious and strong. If a voice was any inclination of magic power and ability, Nicolas was pretty convinced that his man had both – and in great quantity. "Darkspawn are not human, and do not move like a human army would."
"Isn't that the truth" the dwarf said, continuing: "They will come soon enough, don't worry about that."
"But why Val Mort?" Nicolas found himself asking. "Why are they coming here, and how can anyone be sure they will?"
Silence fell as the Wardens exchanged glances. After a few long moments, the dwarf cleared his throat.
"We know from history that while darkspawn attacks almost always begin with caravans or small farms, the move on to larger villages and cities as their numbers grow. That is why we must to try to stop them early on, and Val Mort is the largest city for a long distance. They wouldn't go anywhere else."
"Why not stop them earlier?" Alec asked. "Surely it's been weeks since they first showed up – why not march to them instead of waiting?"
Again, the Wardens looked at each other, silently seeking each other's counsel on what to say.
"The darkspawn have been fought" the male warrior said, "by us. But they grow fast in numbers: assembling a small army here and prepare for their arrival is the best way of defeating this attack before it grows even larger and spreads further into the land."
"And they must be defeated" his female opposite stated firmly, her voice full with strength and passion, "or do you question that as well?"
They silenced at that, looking at each other and mumbling in agreement or nodding slightly. No one wanted the land covered with the taint, or worse, a Blight. Obviously, a week's wait was hardly a high price to pay if the threat could be wiped out.
"Well" the dwarf said in an easy voice, "I think that's enough of tactics for tonight. It's too dark to practice now so we'll see you all here in the morning again, after breakfast."
"What if the darkspawn come tonight?" someone asked.
"Oh, they won't" the dwarf said, a wry smile on his face. "They won't."