THE FIRST RECRUIT
Darik
"Are you awake?"
Darik opened his eyes. He was on the ground, leaning against a wall. A cell wall, he realized, when he saw the bars and door that trapped him in the room. It didn't take long for him to come to the conclusion that he was in the Carta headquarters that ran beneath most of Orzammar; the holding cells of the Carta, which he had never before seen, to be more precise.
"Can you hear me?"
The voice belonged to Leske. Darik managed to get onto his feet after a few tries; his aching, damaged nose and the untreated wound on his abdomen left him sorer than he'd been in a while. At least the bleedings stopped.
Everd's armor had been taken off him in his slumber. Other than his boots, he was back in the worn and torn clothing he started the day off in. He checked his pockets as he stumbled towards the bars, disappointed but not surprised to find his lockpicks were gone.
Leske was just barely within sight, standing inside a cell to Darik's right. His face was swollen and he'd been stripped of everything but his ratty shirt and pants as well.
"How long has it been?" Darik asked.
"A couple of hours," Leske answered. "Jarvia threw us in here and said she'd be back in a little bit. So far, there's been nothing. Not that I'm upset about that." He paused briefly. "So, I think it's fair to say this is all your fault," Leske said to him.
Darik shook his head. "It's Beraht's fault. If we would have known Mainar was going to be the very first fighter, we'd have poisoned him."
"I don't think that argument is going to get us out of here."
"It certainly won't, but at times like this, all a man's got left is his ability to complain."
They were silent for a while. Darik broke it when he said, "we've got to get out of here. Beraht will go after Rica, and until her noble officially declares her a concubine, she's vulnerable."
"You think I haven't been looking for a way out? Rica's not the only one in danger here. They could kill us!"
"Leske, Leske, Leske... don't be so naïve," Darik said. "We are certainly going to be murdered. Horribly and brutally, I imagine. Slowly, too. They'll keep us just barely alive as they—"
"I get it," Leske interrupted. "As I was saying, there's no way out from my side. What about you?"
The sound of a door opening stopped Darik from telling Leske "no." A few seconds later, Jarvia, with a smug expression on her face, came into sight, along with a Carta member. She walked straight past Leske's cell without regarding the dwarf inside at all. "Good," she said to Darik. "You're awake. I was afraid that blow to the head would have been the end of you; that death would have been far too quick and painless."
He rubbed his nose. "Not exactly painlessly." He matched her smug look. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about killing Beraht's men. It's a damned shame that the Carta has a few ne'er-do-wells to bother Orzammar."
She laughed. "You think they were Carta? No, just a couple of guards who didn't require much to bribe. They were no loss to Beraht. What was a loss, however, were the hundred sovereigns Beraht placed on Everd for Lord Vollney."
"That's all on Everd," he said. "The bastard was sprawled on his private room's floor piss drunk when we found him. Wouldn't have been able to stand up straight, let alone win the Provings. Beraht and Lord Vollney would have lost their money anyway."
"Maybe," said Jarvia, "but because of you, the entire Prvoing was declared invalid, and the Assembly launched an investigation to find out who was behind getting you into the Proving Grounds. Making you disappear, and the body's found in the Proving Grounds didn't help any. Even the Grey Wardens seem interested, for some reason. Beraht's gonna have to shell out more money to keep from being discovered."
He was past the point of hoping for an escape from Dust Town through the Grey Wardens. "We can make Beraht his money back," Darik said. It was a longshot, but he hoped he could talk his and Leske's way out of here. "We'll do any job that he has. Just let me explain—"
"It's far too late for that." Jarvia didn't sound upset about that. "Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence. Then he'll go for Cousin Rica, and take out the rest of his frustrations on her."
Darik reached his arm through the bars and swiped at Jarvia. She anticipated this, having stepped back before he even made his move.
"Please, Jarvia!" Darik never thought he'd be begging this witch for anything, but he was running out of options. "We're family. Even you cannot admit that means nothing to you! At least tell Beraht to leave Rica alone; I'm the one that made a mistake, and she's done everything he's ever asked her to do!"
"Which will make it all the more sad to see her die." Jarvia, for the first time, looked sincere. "I like Cousin Rica—certainly more than I like you. But I won't risk angering Beraht by telling him what he can and can't do. Maybe if the noble she attracted knocks her up soon, she'll survive. But I can't promise anything."
"Let us out of here, and we'll make a break for the surface," Darik said. "That way, we can never tell anyone important what happened, and Beraht'll never see us again."
"No can do." She started walking away. The Carta member that came into the room with her stayed behind, likely to guard them. "Enjoy your last night together, boys."
And with that, she was gone.
"No offense," said Leske after a long pause, "but fuck your cousin."
Despite the situation, Darik managed to chuckle weakly. "You always wanted to. Remember what you told me last week? 'I wonder what she looks like without her armor on.' I guess you'll never find out."
He ran his fingers through his hair as he started thinking of ways to escape his cell. There was nothing in his room, save from a couple piles of rocks. Heavy, large rocks...
"Hey you!" Darik called to the guard a moment later.
The guard looked at him but said nothing.
"Can I get something to drink? I haven't had any water since early this morning?"
He shook his head.
"I could die from thirst, you know. If I keel over before Beraht gets a chance to do the deed himself, who do you think he'll blame? Jarvia, his favorite little casteless dwarf? Or you, who was left here to guard us?"
The guard stood absently for a few seconds. Then he walked around the corner, reappearing with a small cup of water. He handed it to Darik through the cell bars. Darik accepted the cup with his left hand and downed the dirty but refreshingly-cold water in one gulp.
"Thanks."
Then he hammered a hefty rock into the guard's face; he'd been hiding it behind his back with his right hand. The guard yelped but went down hard. Darik thanked the Stone that the guard hadn't been wearing a helmet, else the plan would have been impossible to go through with.
Leske saw the whole thing. "Get his keys!"
"No shit."
Darik dragged the unconscious body closer to the bars. Luckily the key ring was attached to his belt, and there were only a handful of keys on the metal loop. He heard the door to his cell unlock after trying the third key.
He pushed the body aside and then the door. He ran over to Leske's cell and unlocked it too. Leske smiled all the while. "You'd think they would know better than to leave you a weapon."
"Let's just be thankful that they didn't," Darik said. He examined his battered friend thoroughly. "Can you walk?"
"Yeah, I think so." Leske limped through the door way and over to the guard. He removed the sword from his sheath. He put the end of it against the guard's throat. Before Darik could interject, Leske said, "if we want to get away with this, we can't leave one man alive to tell Beraht what we've done."
He pierced through the unconscious dwarf's throat. Wiping the blood on the now-dead man's clothing, he handed the sword to Darik. "I won't be able to fight anyone in this condition. It's up to you to get us out of here."
Darik took the sword. He was getting tired of being the warrior of the pair, but he could see Leske's point. Just walking the short distance between the two cells had clearly winded Leske; he wouldn't be able to defend himself to any extent.
Darik searched through a nearby chest and found a dagger. He seized it and claimed it as his own. There was an armor stand with leathers that might fit him, but he wanted to get out of the Carta headquarters as soon as possible. He would just have to hope that any and all men they encountered would be easily dispatched. He gave smaller dagger to Leske, just in case.
After removing all other useful equipment, they left jail room. Immediately they came across a crossroads. One way was straight ahead; the other went to the right. Darik looked over his shoulder to Leske, who was trailing behind the scout. "Which way did Jarvia bring us from?"
Leske pointed to the right passageway. "They brought us through one of the Dust Town entrances."
Darik considered their options. Going right would eventually lead them to Dust Town; the other way would probably bring them to Beraht's shop. At first he was going to suggest going right, but considering that the Orzammar Guard knew he was casteless, they would likely be searching there for him. They wouldn't expect him to be in the commons, in the heart of Orzammar. It might mean a run in with Beraht, but he was willing to risk it.
"Let's go forward."
They did. The Deep Roads-like corridor led them to a new door. Darik opened it cautiously, unsure of what—or who—would be on the other side. The room looked like it was used mainly for storage, but there were five thugs discussing something among the piles of crates. From their tones, Darik knew they were drunk; he would be able to sneak by without much difficulty.
But Leske whispered in his ear, "if they come to check on us, and find one of their fellows dead, they'll raise an alarm. Better to deal with them now than a whole lot more of them later."
Begrudgingly, he nodded. "We'll have to do this efficiently. Stand back."
Darik slowly climbed over the stacked crates, hoping he wouldn't be noticed until he made the first move. He made it to the top of the highest stack, overlooking the group of Carta thugs, without being seen. He removed from his pocket a large flask. It contained a combustible and corrosive green acid that would do a lot of damage if released.
So he threw it in the middle of the thugs.
A small explosion made three of the five dwarfs go airborne, while the remaining two were merely knocked off their feet. All had been splattered on by the acid; right away it began to tear through their armor and skin. Their screams were sickening to Darik; he doubted Leske felt the same way.
Effective as the grenade had been, it only managed to kill one of the thugs. Two were severely burned, but still breathing. The other two, the ones that hadn't been sent flying, were starting to get back on their feet.
Darik leaped down onto the ground. He shoved his longsword into one of the motionless dwarves, putting the man out of his misery. He then rushed towards the next closest dwarf—one of the better-off thugs—and stabbed through his corroded leather armor and into his chest. He fell before he ever got a chance to fight.
The other mostly-okay dwarf was now up, his greatsword unsheathed. He came at Darik and cleaved through him. Or would have, had Darik not backed up into the crates. He threw his dagger and caught the brute in the shoulder. The man must have been a beserker as the projectile hadn't fazed him at all.
The greatsword was swung at his head, but he parried it and slashed at the warrior. Darik grazed his stomach, but still the man didn't slow.
He moved in close to the thug, so close that the greatsword would be useless. Before the dwarf could scoot back and make use of his blade, Darik pulled the dagger out of the man's shoulder and sliced deeply into his neck. This fatal wound finally put down the beserking dwarf.
Leske made his way over to Darik, putting down the last surviving dwarf for him. "That went well."
"Yeah it did; glad you could help out in the very end," Darik said. He cleaned his weapons with a torn-off piece of the beserker's shirt. Then they started off again.
The room connected to a second one through another small cavern. Inside the room were four more dwarves. Who, Darik guessed, had heard the skirmish; their weapons were out and ready to maim them. There was no chance to use the element of surprise.
Darik fixed himself in the doorway, ready to take on all four at once. And probably die in the process. He'd only had the one grenade, and nothing else he had would slow or stop the oncoming thugs. Leske, injured as he was, was right behind Darik.
"We're in this together," he said.
Though that was nice to hear, it didn't make Darik anymore confident that they were going to survive.
The dwarf at the front of the group was halfway towards them when he stepped on a pressure plate. Darik had seen it instantly, but he had a keen eye. Barrels that were located on opposite sides of the plate, which had seemed out of place, suddenly went off in a fiery inferno. All four dwarves were caught in the blast; all four dwarves cried in agony as they succumbed to their burns.
Darik and Leske looked at each other, stupefied by what had happened.
"The Ancestors reject us my arse," Darik said. They broke into laughter as they treaded past the burning bodies. The only other door on the other side of the room swung open, and two more Carta members charged in. There was no pressure plate this time to save them.
Darik avoided the axe to the face and kicked the man away. The second dwarf was rapidly letting loose arrows that always just barely missed him. Darik slashed the first man's throat and ran at the archer. He cursed as an arrow hit his shoulder, but he cut down the archer before he could release another projectile.
With help from Leske, the arrow was tugged out of Darik. He howled, not caring if it would alert any other nearby Carta members. They dressed the wound with a piece of Darik's shirt to the best of their ability. A search around the room for some health poultices was underway. There was plenty of contraband and other valuables—some of which Darik pocketed to sell on the surface—but magical potions that could mend and repair wounds.
"Well, you'll stop bleeding naturally," Leske said optimistically. "Probably."
"Let's just get going," Darik said. "We've wasted enough time here."
The door that the two assailants had come through was connected to a hallway. And that hallway was connected to three other doors. One of the doors—the one on Darik's right—went into another cavern. The last time they'd found themselves at a junction like this, they'd gone straight. Seeing no reason to change this, Darik nodded to the door at the end of the hallway.
He regretted this choice as soon as he opened the door. For on the other side of it was Anor Beraht and two well-armed and armored thugs. He and Leske receded from the doorway, but it looked as if they hadn't been seen or heard.
"I'm cutting the whore free," Beraht told his men. "If that turncoat brother of hers doesn't know his place, I don't need precious Rica, either."
"Rica?" asked one of the thugs. "That the one you got all done up in lace? I been wanting to get my hands on that."
The other thug nodded in agreement. "Heh, I know what you mean..."
Beraht patted one of them on the shoulder. "She's yours if you want her boys. And let me tell you... it tastes as good as it looks."
Darik couldn't hold his tongue any longer. He went through the doorway and approached the head of the Carta. "How many times have I had to tell you? Don't. Fucking. Talk. About. Rica. That way."
He smiled like a mad man when Beraht's eyes widened at the sight of him. "What in sod-all is that doing out of its cage?"
Darik whipped out his weapons from his belt. He heard a sigh from Leske, then the sound of him doing the same. He pointed his sword at Beraht. "This has been a long time coming."
Beraht's face hardened as he and his thugs equipped their blades and shield. "Let's teach this little duster a lesson."
A dagger flew from behind Darik and into the chest of one of the thugs before anyone had a chance to move. Leske chuckled. "My aim's off a bit."
Beraht and the remaining Carta member weren't distracted by the death of the man for long. They dashed head-on at Darik. Darik waited for them, watching for the right time to strike. The thug, since he was not in heavy metal armor, reached him first. He lunged at Darik, but the blade was deflected and knocked out of his hand.
Darik hacked off the man's head in one, mighty blow. That didn't detour Beraht, who kept running right for him. Darik wasn't sure what to expect out of him; he was Merchant Caste after all, but he was also much more than that.
The axe in Beraht's hand would have sliced him in two had Darik not put his longsword between him and it. But Beraht was strong, so strong that Darik's longsword was knocked out of his hand.
Beraht's shield deflected Darik's dagger from entering a gap between his armor. The shield was then use as a battering ram, slamming Darik onto the ground. Beraht pressed his foot down on him, preventing him from getting up or retaliating.
Leske chucked a rock at Beraht's exposed head, nicking his forehead. The Carta leader growled, turning his attention to the warrior. "When I'm done with your friend, you're next!"
He didn't know that the rock had been meant to be a distraction; a distraction that allowed Darik to pick up his dagger and lodge it into his leg. Beraht only discovered this when the sharp knife found its way just below his kneecap.
Beraht recoiled, freeing Darik. "You piece of shit!" He had enough sense to have not let go of his sword and shield, but his attention was solely on his leg.
Darik picked up his longsword and clambered onto his feet. He hustled over to Beraht and tackled him. It required a lot more effort with him not being in Everd's heavy armor; nevertheless, Beraht released his weaponry and fell onto his back. Darik took a seat on his chestplate to prevent him from getting up. Leske came up beside him.
The edge of his sword was placed against Beraht's throat, but not into it. Darik wasn't ready to kill him. Not yet.
Beraht tried and failed to push Darik off. Darik could tell he was confused why he was still alive. And for that matter, so was Leske.
"Well go on, finish him!"
"Not yet," Darik said. He looked down at Beraht. "I've got a proposition for you."
"What?" Beraht and Leske exclaimed at the same time.
"You can walk, or rather, limp, out of here today Beraht," Darik began, "and so will we. You can keep being the leader of your little Carta, but me and Leske? We're done. Forever. When Rica's noble claims her, and she gets us—and by us I mean me and my good friend Leske, not you—into the Diamond Quarter, you'll stay right where you are. You'll generously give my family half your profits every month for the rest of your life. In return, you can live. What do you say?"
Beraht narrowed his eyes. "You think I could live even one more day after this? Knowing that my life was spared by a brand?! Do what you want with me, because after what you did at the Proving Grounds, there's no way the nobles would accept you. And the Carta won't die with me. Jarvia is more than capable of doing this, and she doesn't have to worry about keeping a good face for the public."
"This is your last chance, Beraht. Take it or leave it."
He spit in Darik's face and laughed like a lunatic. The laughing ceased once Darik pulled his sword away, leaving a deep line in Beraht's neck. His blood poured out and onto both of them.
Darik sat there for a while, stunned and in disbelief. When he woke up this morning, he never thought he would end up Orzammar's most wanted or killing Beraht. Beraht's last words, meant to be as cruel as they ever were, had a lasting effect. He was right: Darik would never be able to show his face in the Diamond Quarter. Worse than that would be if it were discovered he and Rica were related. Would she be punished because of him?
Leske shook his arm. "You all right?"
"I... I don't know," Darik admitted.
"I thought you'd be a little happier than this," said Leske. "Rica's safe now."
"Yeah. For now."
"I'm certainly a whole lot happier now that Beraht's dead, especially since I wasn't previously in the 'move to the Diamond Quarter' plan."
Darik didn't want to inform his friend on how unlikely that plan would actually happen now. So he faked a smile. "I couldn't leave you out after all this. You had my back when no one else did. That makes you family."
Leske helped him off of Beraht's lifeless body and, together as brothers, they headed for the exit.
"Don't hurt me!"
Darik ignored the cringing shopkeeper that ran Beraht's shop when he was indisposed. I guess he'll permanently run it now. He told the man to forget he and Leske were ever there as they walked towards the door.
The threat proved to be all for naught, as the second Darik and Leske stepped out into the commons, they were spotted by a group of Orzammar guards. The head of the detachment pointed at them. "There they are! Seize the fugitives!"
The guards circled them with swords at the ready. The announcer of the Provings was among the guards and he said, "drop your weapons and surrender. We will use force if you resist."
They did as they were ordered. Darik doubted these men were also under Beraht's payroll, considering the announcer was with them. He must have been more than an announcer if he was in charge of getting the men that had ruined the Provings.
From out of nowehere, the Grey Wardens appeared. Being the tallest people in all of Orzammar, it was amazing that they could sneak up like that. But they weren't alone. Walking beside the head Warden was Darik's sister, Rica. If there weren't twenty swords currently pointed at him, he would have ran up to and hugged her; he hadn't been totally convinced that Beraht hadn't already gotten to her.
Why the Grey Wardens were here, and why the head Warden and the announcer didn't seem on good terms, Darik didn't know. But he decided to play the best, and only, card he had up his sleeve.
"Anor Beraht was behind everything."
The head Warden turned to the announcer. "Wasn't this Anor Beraht the man you suspected to be behind their convenient escape?"
"Regardless," the announcer said, "the penalty for impersonating a higher caste is death. The casteless there will be executed, and if the other one was involved, he too will be punished."
"If Beraht is as influential as you say, perhaps there is truth in this young man's words."
"Anor will be interrogated to find out—"
"Beraht's dead," Darik interrupted.
"He's dead?" the announcer asked. "Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They—"
It was Leske's turn to speak while the announcer was talking. "Beraht was behind everything. He would have butchered us if Darik hadn't killed him first!"
The head Warden arched his brows. "Again you make a daring escape? You must have as much courage as skill with a sword. We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to Join our ranks. That is why we have come to Orzammar, and that is why I shall recruit you."
Darik stared at the Warden, looking for any sign that the man was joking. He couldn't find one. "Are you serious?"
"Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan, Warden-Commander of Fereldan, extend the invitation for you to Join our order."
Darik looked at Rica, who had a smile wider than he'd ever seen from her. He didn't know what to say.
The Proving announcer had something to say though. "This man is a criminal. You can't do this!"
"I can and I am," Duncan said. "It would mean traveling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight."
He almost shouted "yes!" right away, but he paused. A moment later he said, "I'd like to talk to my sister and Leske before I decide."
Duncan nodded. "I see no problem with that. Do you, Proving Master?"
"I guess not," the announcer grumbled.
Darik and Leske walked over to a more secluded area. Rica joined them and immediately slapped his chest. "What are you doing?" she hissed in a whisper. "Go tell Ser Duncan 'yes.'" Her face softened when she saw the state they were both in. "You two need healers."
"I'll be fine," Darik told her. "And Leske's face has always looked like that."
"Yeah, I've always been handsome," Leske said. "So, are you ready to go tell the Warden that you'll join him now?"
"We haven't even started to discuss that," Darik said. He turned to Rica. "I can't leave you here alone."
"I spent the morning with my new patron," she said. "He told me that as soon as I become pregnant, he would announce a marriage between us. That would move me and Mother to the Diamond Quarter, and if the child is a boy, we will stay there."
Darik couldn't see any reason not to join—or "Join", since Duncan had put some emphasis on the word—with Rica taken care of.
"She'll have me to take care of her until we all move to the Diamond Quarter," Leske said.
Darik knew he could trust his best friend to do just that. "Rica, when you move to the Diamond Quarter, tell your noble that Leske is a brother, or a cousin, or anything that'll get him to go with you. He'll not last long in Dust Town with the Carta now leaderless thanks to us."
"I will," she said.
With everything settled, Darik shrugged. "See ya when I see ya," he said to his sister and his friend.
He walked up to Duncan and offered his hand. "I'll Join you."