"I hope you haven't forgotten your manners, squire." Aedan spoke out as the horses trotted up the cobbled pathways towards Chateau Roche, past the wandering nobles dressed as extravagantly as the ones in Val Royeaux. No matter where in Orlais, they make sure you can tell them apart from the regular folk. No expense spared.
"I think I will manage ser. I've read some books on Orlesian nobility on the way here, customs and history." Devin declared almost proudly.
"That is quite the feat young Devin. Should I learn to curtsy?"
"No ser, Lady Roberta would curtsy. You would have to bow. Left leg backwards, right hand on chest, left arm stretched out to the side and chin touching collar."
"That was a rhetorical question squire."
The kid is like a damn knife. Sharp on one side, dull on the other.
"Besides, I was born a noble as well, remember? I think I can handle pompous nobles."
"From what I have read, Orlesians are quite different than Fereldans."
"An astute observation squire."
Devin trotted closer to the warden and followed in a more hushed tone, out of earshot of Roberta who was leading the way a few paces ahead. "Ser, do you think we are in trouble? Ser Constance was the Marquises and Lady Roberta's relative. What should we do?"
Aedan did not comply with the secretive tone and spoke as loudly as he did before. "We could ask Roberta if you are so curious."
The knight ahead of them turned her head slightly "I can hear you boy."
The kid reddened quickly "I'm... I'm sorry my lady. I didn't mean to pry."
"I find it is often best to pry and receive a direct answer, rather than stumble blindly." Aedan continued his squire's haphazard apology, directing it at Roberta.
"Her Grace will sate your curiosity. She is much better at talking than I am." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"Talking is an over-rated skill, isn't that right Devin?"
"You would know best. Ser." Well, at least the kid is growing some teeth at last.
"I never asked, how did you get here so fast without a horse and get past the siege?" Aedan inquired.
"Uhm, I had a horse. Well, not me, a messenger for the Empresses army I met on the highway. He was on his way to the siege at Val Chevin. I had to lie to him that we were attacked by a bear and that, you, well... you died."
"That's quite alright Devin. I would only be mad if I was actually dead."
"I wanted to tell him that we were kidnapped but I wasn't sure if Empresses men were looking for a warden as well."
"They aren't." Roberta cut in solemnly and continued trotting.
"That's fine Devin. It was smarter not to tell him, chances are one man would have died anyway. Especially after what we saw there. What happened at the siege?"
"They let me pass, even gave me a horse after I told them I am to meet with Warden Commander Clarel at Montsimmard. They don't pay much attention to a simple squire." And here's that humility and lack of confidence.
"You are smarter than most adults I have come across, alright?" Aedan encouragingly nudged the kid. "Then again that doesn't say much."
Can't have him grow too full of himself.
The Chateau Roche was in sight now, as they turned a corner past the gates into the gardens. About the size of the Vigil, this one looked much more noble and affluent. Built of white marble and yellow tinted stone, sky blue banners hanging from the arches and towers adorned with three golden flowers. The peaks of the roofs and towers were decorated with gold crafted flower petals. The lavish flower gardens almost seeped into the architecture as countless rose vines stretched up the marble walls.
Several guards clad in full-plate armor and golden mask helmets, carrying pikes patrolled the gardens. Two of them, guarding the entrance to the chateau gardens glanced at Roberta and let the riders pass without a word.
The travelers dismounted at the stables and moved into the chateau, following Roberta. She seemed determined, steeling herself for the confrontation, anxious.
More nervous than she was when confronting me in that bloody forest.
As the engraved elegant twin doors parted, they were greeted by a man, old but lean and stoic with a face that was obviously worn out by years of dutiful serving and talking to patience testing nobles.
"Madame Roberta, how delightful to see you back home." He exclaimed without a single change in his tone or demeanor. His brows curled up in a surprise for a moment as he looked at the warden and the squire. "We have guests, I see. We graciously welcome to Chateau Roche. I am the steward of the house, you may call me Bazil." He bowed courtly. "And you are..."
"Aedan Cousland. This is my squire Devin Eremon." The squire bowed according to his Orlesian book.
Greeting a steward as he would a noble. Charming.
As he announced himself, Roberta shot a barely contained look of bewilderment at the warden. She has no doubt heard of the Hero of Ferelden by name. If only a picture came with it, many problems could be avoided. "Why didn't you tell us?" She snapped.
"I think you were past believing anything I said once you tied my mouth shut."
The steward intervened. "Madame Roberta. I see that you are here with two charming guests, but if I may ask, why is Lord Constance not with you?"
"Could you ask for the Marquise, Bazil?" She evaded the question bluntly.
"At once." The man turned on his heel and headed up the large stairs in the middle of the grand hall. The interior was quite lavish and extravagant. The Roches were either extremely wealthy or deep in debt to their necks.
After ten minutes of patient waiting and silence, a woman wearing an elegant, blue ball gown, slowly and gracefully began walking down the stairs. Bazil, posted statuesque like at the bottom of the stairs announced her impassively and boomingly: "May I present to you, Her Grace Marquise Beatrix Adeline de Roche! The two gentlemen guests are Warden Commander Cousland of Fereldan and his squire Devin Eremon." Aedan bowed his head slightly, one hand on chest.
The noblewoman kept walking down the stairs, one hand on the golden railings. Head held high, wearing an ornate golden mask resembling an owl, cherry blonde hair tied in a bun. She stopped at the third step from the bottom and finally spoke up. "What a pleasure to have the Hero of Ferelden in our chateau. I do apologize for it being a terrible mess, we did not expect guests at such a time." Smile was curled on her lips as she spoke, eyes fixed on the warden through the slits in the mask. Unshaken and courteous.
"Your grace." Roberta spoke up politely.
"Roberta, dear, it is so good to see you back from your travels. I can't wait until you and my brother share your adventures with us." She glanced at her guests, noticing the dour looks on their faces, surely sensing something was wrong but not showing it a slight bit.
"Your grace, Constance..." she steeled herself "He fell in battle."
Lady Beatrix gasped in shock, covering her mouth with her gloved hand, almost theatrically. Even as real tragedy occurs, it is evidently hard to give up the 'Game'.
She stabilized herself holding onto the railing. "Lord Constance." She corrected the knight. "How did he die?" the noblewoman continued more quietly and thoughtfully.
"Vile demons overwhelmed him. He fought them bravely."
Bravely, quivering in his greaves and screaming as they tore into his spine.
"And where were you Roberta?" the lady snapped at her. That noticeably took her aback, anger and despair flushed across her face then she hung her head apologetically. "I wasn't strong enough. I failed him your grace."
"Oh, don't do that dear! You know I hate when you do that." She exclaimed more briskly, as if forgetting her brothers death already. "He was a brash young man. I feared he would one day fall. At least my dear Constance fell fighting bravely and did not turn his back on the danger, like a real Chevalier would."
Her words were filled with venom. She turned her head back towards Aedan, putting back on the mask of a courteous noble.
"I do hate for you to see me like this, on this morbid day. You must stay for dinner tonight as a guest of honor. You must be exhausted from your long travels, poor dear. We will prepare a guest room and you may stay as our guest, yes?"
It would be impolite to refuse and I intend to stay in the city to seek out the Orlesian Wardens regardless. She definitely wants me for something, having King Alistair's advisors ear and a grey Warden to boot would be beneficial to a schemer. It would be a change of pace sleeping in a decent bed. Besides, leaving her and Roberta alone might result in some ugly eye-scratching.
"It would be a pleasure, your grace. I don't want to abuse your generosity, however, so we must depart the following day."
"Wonderful! I shall make the arrangements. Bazil!" She commanded towards the old steward, who immediately bowed and turned to his duties. "You may come and go as you please, if you need anything simply call for Bazil or one of the servants. I must attend to my letters unfortunately. It was a pleasure to meet you."
She curtsied and made her way back upstairs as gracefully as she came down.
Roberta stood there, lost in thought, staring at the marble mosaic floor. Aedan put his hand on her shoulder cautiously, she recoiled in surprise but quickly relaxed as if snapping back from a nightmare.
"Would you like to come along to the Wardens Tower my lady. You look like you could use some fresh air and a walk."
"I could use punching something very hard." She responded almost as a joke, if not for the obviously stoic, intense look on her face.
Regardless, she followed the Warden and his squire. Feeling lost and alienated from her home she needed somewhere to be, someone to follow at least for a while until the fire settled. Roberta was a warrior first and foremost, a soldier who followed orders. Failing someone who lead her - Constance, and a relative to add, must have hit her hard. When you take the blinders off a horse it will either become free or lost.
After moments of riding through the bustling city streets Aedan broke the silence. "Why were you hunting a faceless warden?"
"Constance offered to hunt the traitor for the Grey Wardens. We only knew he was a man, a warden, Ferelden and traveling alone."
"Three out of four isn't too bad."
"I am sure Constance thought the same." She replied dejectedly.
"You still didn't answer why you were hunting him."
"I did. Why the Wardens wanted him, I don't know. I am sure they will tell you at the tower." She tried to avoid any conversation. The wound was still fresh and her own stoic, brooding demeanor prevented it.
"I am sure they will, but I can't resist hearing your snappy retorts. My lady." She averted her eyes and exhaled through the nose, like a bull.
At least she looks the part.
Warden Tower was soon in sight, reaching above the surrounding castle walls and house roofs, it stood alone, resolute and resilient. It barely fit in; a grey stone tower among the colorful, exuberant Orlesian buildings. The castle gates were open and dozens of workers were packing carriages and horses. A couple of town guards were stationed at the gates. They let the three riders pass without trouble after Aedan announced himself. They stabled their horses and continued on towards the Tower hall doors. The men and women buzzing around them were carrying sacks, crates and barrels; slinging them over the horses backs and packing them into carriages. They must be relocating everyone, but why?
The man at the doors directed them to the meeting chambers at the end of the grand hall. Not a warden, then again I don't sense many wardens here at all.
This kind of relocation doesn't happen short of a blight and last I checked I stopped one.
A dark haired, tan younger man stepped out of the meeting chamber, parting one of the large doors. He was wearing a simple warden tunic and then it hit Aedan.
This is the warden I sensed before. The only warden in this bloody city. His jaw clenched. This doesn't have to be a waste of time, the man must still know of their whereabouts.
The young warden spoke up in an Orlesian accent: "Welcome to the Palestone Talon tower. I am Aren, acting steward of the castle, and you?"
"Commander Cousland of Ferelden." The kids eyes widened in surprise and with a hint of worry. "Where are the rest of the wardens?"
"May I say, it is a great honor to have the Hero of..."
"Skip the pleasantries. Just answer my question." He interrupted as his patience was wearing thin. He needed an answer, he needed to know where the wardens have gone.
"Well, messere, I wish I had an answer for you. Commander Clarel organizes the movements of the Orlais chapter, I was simply left to oversee the castle and moving of provisions."
He is hiding something, avoiding the question, not of his own accord that's for sure. Why would Clarel be secretive about this, and to other wardens too.
"You do realize that I am a Warden. If Clarel ordered you to keep the warden movements secret from the nobles, that is understandable. I need to seek them out of my own accord." Aren, considered for a second.
"I understand messere. No one was expecting for the Hero of Ferelden to come to Orlais." He sighed. "We heard the Calling. All of us." What? If all the wardens heard the calling, what is it? Another Blight, an Archdemon?
The young warden continued. "Have... have you heard it too?"
Aedan looked to the side, to Roberta and Devin who both wore a confused look on their faces. He turned back to Aren.
"I need to know where they went Aren."
"Messere, I told you Commander Clarel..."
"Yes, yes she organizes movements and you don't know anything. Where are the supplies headed then?" He interrupted the warden again, more impatient and brazen. A worried look washed across the young warden's face.
"The supply caravans are headed into many different places, different directions. Some towards the Western Approach, some to the north, towards Weisshaupt, some to Tevinter."
"So we are narrowing it down, good. Where did Clarel head out?"
"I truly do not know. I know she was headed to the north. Please, messere, I can not tell you more." There was desperation in the kids voice, whether because he truly did not know or because he was on his last strand of lies, warden could not tell.
He looked into the young wardens eyes, studying him.
Looks like I'm back to square one, unless...
"You had a warden go rogue recently, didn't you?"
His eyes narrowed. "May I ask how you know about it?"
"Found out about it the hard way." He glanced at Roberta.
She spoke up at the young warden inquisitively as on queue.
"My cousin Lord Constance de Roche offered to hunt him down for Commander Clarel."
"Ah yes, Lord Constance. I apologize for not recognizing you my lady."
"It's fine and I am no lady."
Aedan jumped in, looking at Aren "You were telling us about the traitor."
"Yes. Of course." He sighed again rubbing the back of his neck. "Senior Warden Damon attempted to wrest control from our Commander. If not for her shrewdness, he would have taken over."
"Take over the Orlais division? Why? A political move?"
"I don't think so messere. Damon wasn't interested in politics and we did not get the chance to question him. He escaped from his cell before the trial. Cut down four brothers and sisters on the way out." That last sentence weighed heavily on his tongue, sadness and contempt.
"Any idea where he was headed?"
"None, messere. To be honest Commander was not too worried about him." By the sound of his voice, Aren did not approve of that.
Must have lost someone to the traitor.
"Damon did steal documents belonging to her. Personal accounts and letters from what I gather. That's why she recruited bounty hunters, like Lord Constance, to hunt down the traitor."
He was much more open about revealing information of this Damon than the Wardens goals. Clarels orders no doubt. There is nothing else I will get out of him, he is too loyal to his Commander. Good man to leave behind and answer visitors questions. Why all this secrecy from her fellow Wardens? Does she mistrust the order or Ferelden perhaps. There has been bad blood between Orlais and Ferelden for decades, even between Wardens. Loghain didn't do much to calm it over. Bastard cut off their entry into the country during the Blight.
"I think we are done here."
The young warden nodded with relief. "I must return to my duties now. I wish you luck in your travels Commander and you Ser Roberta." He bowed lightly and retreated back to the meeting chamber slipping through the door-crack, shutting it behind him.
The three travelers made it outside back on their horses.
"Let's head back to the chateau. I for one can't wait to join the noble festivities."
She just shook her head unamusingly in response.
"Tell me Roberta, why did Constance join up to hunt down the traitor. He was a noble, surely not looking for a reward. Was it glory?"
She was staring down at the horses head as she rode, in contemplation. "Constance wanted to become a Warden. He revered them, their heroism."
"It's not that difficult to conscript yourself."
But it is difficult to actually become a warden. Wonder if the lordling had changed his desires if he knew about the Joining.
"It is difficult for a noble with duties and obligations to family." She did not want to share more than that, clearly.
By the time they returned to the Chateau Roche it was already more vibrant and festive. Servants were running from place to place, preparing the decorations, cleaning and getting the premises ready for quite a noble dinner party.
"Is that all for me?" Aedan asked coyly, leaning back in saddle to look at his companions.
Roberta rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. This is quite regular for Orlesian nobility, warden."
As blunt as the front end of a hammer.
The steward approached them as they stabled their horses. "Madame Roberta. Monsieurs. Her grace has informed me to escort you to your rooms so that we can prepare you for the dinner party."
"Prepare us? We might as well be heading into battle." Aedan replied, to which a slight smile curled on the stewards face.
"Ah, yes. The game. Go ahead then, show us to our rooms."
The quicker this is done with the better. Although if my time in Val Royeaux was of any indication, every bloody noble wants something and do their mouths begin to water at the sight of the Hero of Ferelden. Let's hope I still remember what Leliana taught me. Fereldan politics are a child's play compared to the Game. She was right of course. A show of force and a blade through a traitors heart swiftly stopped a rebellion back in Denerim. Chances are a lot more blood will spill before Gaspard and Celene settle.
I miss the simpler times.
Aedan was separated from Devin and Roberta as they entered the chateau. The halls were gilded and lavish yet felt all too empty. As lustrous as gold is, it is still as cold as iron.
A servant escorted him. Small elven girl, with a sweet common charm, red hair falling to her shoulders.
They made it to his 'guest room' eventually. Even his quarters in Highever seemed modest compared to this. Windows covered with intricate long curtains. At least fifteen foot high ceiling adorned with a golden chandelier in the middle, illuminating the room along the large fireplace. A queen sized bed across from it. A chair and a washbasin were awaiting warden's arrival in the middle of the grand room.
"My lord. Her grace has asked me to shave your beard." The elven woman said sheepishly, looking at the floor, holding her hands in front guardedly.
"She asked you to shave my beard?"
"It would be uncourteous to show up at a noble dinner with a... unkept facial hair my lord."
"Are you implying I have been rolling through rain and mud in the wilderness?" Aedan poked at her. Her guard raised as she took a slight step back and bowed anxiously.
"No, my lord, I wouldn't dare imply..."
"Oh for Makers sake, you Orlesians need to relax." He interrupted the elf boisterously. "It was a jest, you can stop bowing."
"Yes, my lord." She stood up as straight as her humility let her, head still down, not making eye contact.
"Her grace may have a point. I was trudging through muck for days, not to mention a sea voyage. I do need a bath." He looked back towards a door at the other end of the room, pointing towards it. "That way?"
"Yes, my lord."
Aedan made his way towards it, taking off the tunic in the process. He immediately heard the servant turn around on her heel.
First bath since Vigil. What was it? Almost a month.
Simple pleasure like these reminded him of more peaceful times. It was soured by the privilege of a noble upbringing after all he has seen during the Blight. The poverty, the squalor. Things he was shielded from in his younger years. Some things never change. There will always be a war, there will always be a poor family scraping by to buy an overpriced loaf of bread and feed their child.
Ah and this is why I prefer not to be left alone with my thoughts.
Aedan exited the bathroom after twenty minutes as the water was getting luke-warm. He sat down in the before-prepared shaving chair. The elf's back was still facing him as she was inspecting a landscape painting hung above an armoire, depicting what looked like a wyvern-hunt.
"It's a beautiful painting." He spoke up. The girl startled and turned around rapidly.
"I apologize." As she saw him sitting down already wearing only pants. Her head dropped to look to the floor again as she glanced at the large scar stretching from his abdomen to the side of his ribs. "I did not hear you my lord."
"That's alright." Noticing her shyness he continued, "It's not like you haven't seen a man's chest before." He teased, but the elf's face reddened as she clenched her hands holding each other to the point of them becoming red as well. She trotted towards him, head down.
Big fucking mouth Aedan.
"I apologize. I did not mean it that way." He followed regretfully, trying to make eye contact. Could barely see her face behind the hair hanging from the sides.
"You don't need to apologize my lord. I am just a servant."
"I would hate to insult a woman who is about to hold a razor to my throat." Aedan tried to lighten the situation. She was behind him by now, preparing the shaving soap.
"As you say, my lord." He could hear a light smile in her voice.
As she applied the soap to his beard thoroughly, slicking his hair back out of the way, Aedan focused on the painting from before. It depicted a beautiful alpine landscape in the background, while in fore an Orlesian knight in battle with a blue wyvern. Aedan has only seen them in books and other paintings. Hear say, most of them have been hunted out by the Orlesians and the ones that are not are prized trophy hunts, for their venom mostly. Among using it for poisons and potions it is also used in alcohol. It would be Orlesians who would drink the poison of a bloody wyvern.
"I never caught your name." Aedan spoke up.
"Sheila, if it pleases you my lord."
He leaned his head back to look at the elf. Her eyes nervously darted to the side as she continued rubbing the soap. He leaned back to face the painting.
"Tell me the story of this painting Sheila."
After a moment of contemplation she began. "It depicts the heroism of Marquis Valerin de Roche the Second, father of Her Grace Beatrix de Roche and cousin once removed by marriage to Emperor Florian. The tale tells of Marquis Valerin going on a wyvern hunt along the Emperor and countless other nobles. The hunt grew long and stale as fruitless nights passed and scouts returned with no sign of wyvern, until Marquis' hound woke the camp up in a howling and barking in the direction of an evergreen valley - the Verdant Narrows. They say Marquis was the first one to his horse and rode ahead, without waiting for the other hunters. His Grace was known for his extravagance and boisterousness as well as his respect towards men and women who worked the chateau. Servants often heard his hearty laugh as he listened to their tales."
"You speak highly of him." Aedan stated proddingly as the razor stopped grazing his cheek to let him speak.
"My mother and grandparents served His Grace, he was well liked among the serving staff." She answered continuing the shave. Something in her voice told him that the current Marquise did not have the same respect from the servants.
Better not to say it or the poor girl will add a scar to my face.
"The painting." She reminded herself nervously. "Marquis rode ahead of the noble hunters in pursuit of his hound and what he had sensed. But his pursuit was halted when the hound slowed down and circled, looking for the trail desperately. He had lost the scent. It all seemed lost until a scream startled Marquis, a scream for help from none else than the Emperor Florian himself. Brave Marquis spurred his horse until it bled in a hurry to save His Majesty. He arrived to the sight of a mighty blue wyvern towering over the Emperor. Marquis lept off his horse to save his lord and with one swing of a sword cut off the beasts claw that was reaching for the Emperor."
"I noticed his painted brother was short one paw." Aedan jested. The elf giggled quietly but swiftly stopped herself to focus, continuing the story.
"Standing himself between the Emperor and the Wyvern, he forced it away, almost shouting down the beast into submission. The wyvern grew desperate and filled with rage to match Marquis' and lunged head first into His Grace. Unfortunately for it, Marquis Valerin was a skilled chevalier and with a deft sidestep, he decapitated the fel beast in a single mighty strike. Emperor Florian threw a grand feast for his savior and newfound friend that day and offered him anything he wished: titles, riches, favors. Marquis famously responded with 'Keep the wine flowing Your Majesty!' to the chagrin of all the present nobles, which highly amused the Emperor."
"You should tell stories more often." Aedan replied as Sheila was finishing shaving his cheeks, moving to the neck.
Smiling at the compliment, she continued. "Emperor Florian once shared his fondness and friendship for Divine Beatrix III and how she hated her Divine name and title. Marquis remembered this and on Emperors name day vowed to name his firstborn child Beatrix, even if it was a boy." Sheila washed the razor once the story and the beard was finished, then she quickly corrected herself.
"I apologize my lord. I did not mean to say that, I forgot my place." With trepidation and anxiousness in her voice as she patted down Aedan's face with a towel.
"I take it Her Grace does not like the story of her names conception." She did not respond to that, only held her head down ashamedly, putting away the tools. She then stood in front of Aedan as he sat rubbing his shaved chin uncomfortably.
"My lord, I apologize for being so flustered. You are the Hero of Ferelden and your exploits are known far and wide as is your heroism." She spoke in a dulcet and impassive tone, still looking down.
"If I had a copper every time someone said that." He responded sardonically, still feeling his chin.
Suddenly a knee landed in between his thighs as the elf sat on his right leg, gently laying her hands on his chest and pressing her lips into his.
What in Andrastes tits?
He gathered himself, gently pushing away the elf's chin. As their lips parted, Aedan inquired. "You know, people usually ask for an autograph."
"I am sorry, my lord. Do you like it slower?" She gently caressed his chest with her hands now, leaning in for another kiss. He grabbed her hands and held them down to her thighs.
"Would you stop for a mommm..." Her mouth landed on his once again. He stood up now, forcing the elf to her feet as well.
"What is it with you woman?"
She bowed her head down ashamedly, face turning red from embarrassment. "I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to offend. I only aimed to please." She nervously, apologetically spat out.
Oh of course. The bloody Marquise got her up to it. No doubt currying a favor, making me feel welcome and comfortable. She definitely seeks something from me. I bet she hand-picked the red-head among her servants too. How bloody predictable, and I almost fell for it.
"Alright. You don't need to do anything like that Sheila."
"Her Grace will throw me out. Please my lord, don't send me away!" She pleaded, now looking at him desperately with wide, watery eyes.
The Marquise is quite ruthless with her politics it appears. Did not take to her father in that regard, it seems.
"I will not send you away, all right? Dry your eyes." She pulled out a handkerchief from her dress pocket, patting at her eyes sniffling and composing herself. "But you will also not need to sleep with me on some nobles orders."
Wiping off her tears she inquired nervously, "What... what would you have me do then, my lord."
Aedan looked around the room, noticing several other large paintings. "There are still stories left to be told. Besides, someone needs to help me get into these bloody Orlesian clothes."
Within the hour, Sheila unveiled the tales of the Roche family, heroic deeds and the family's past. They came from humble beginnings as tradesmen who married into royalty and nobility and earned their family name through shrewdness and ambitious politics.
The elven servant was reserved when asked about the current Marquise. The noblewoman appears to be very politically astute and secretive as most of her ilk.
She does seem to be a control freak, the shave, the specific clothes that were sent to the room. Dark grey silk brocade trousers, tall leather boots with silver buckles, a simple elegant silk shirt and a layered thick cotton vest, blue with white streaks. Very warden-esque, but a lot more elegant than what the order would actually wear.
Aedan stood on the balcony as the sun went down, remembering his days on that little island in the Waking Sea with Leliana.
We spent barely a month there together but it was bliss. No world shaking events, no tragedies, no news from the world around us, just us. If there ever was a heaven, it was right there and then.
A bell rung throughout the palace halls.
Knock on the door followed.
"Come on in."
The double doors parted and Bazil entered, hands behind him, chin high. "If monsieur would follow me, we will begin the dinner."
He was escorted to the ball room which decorated illustriously and royally. A grand room with marble floors and frescoed ceilings illuminated as if by a thousand candles. In the center was an opulent dinner table, more than twenty feet long with more dishes being brought to it by the servants. Dozens of masked nobles dressed as extravagantly as one might expect from such a gathering, were spread throughout the ball room, chatting, gossiping, scheming. A bard played his lute in the corner, spreading a somber melody vibrating through the room.
Marquise approached the warden, dressed in a sky blue ball gown with a high feathered collar, stretching behin her back and head. Her shoulders adorned with golden shoulderpads, shaped like flowers. Upon her face was a mask, same one she wore when they first met. Her hair was done in two large buns at the back of her head. She gracefully extended her hand towards the warden.
He gently held it up to his lips and kissed her signet ring.
"Your grace. You look enchanting this evening."
"Why, thank you. You clean up well yourself monsieur. Your presence at our humble soiree does me great honor."
"Have you seen my squire - Devin, your grace?"
"Oh yes, he must be around somewhere." She effortlessly waved her hand in a vague direction. "Please, mingle, enjoy your evening, we will talk more soon. I promise." She touched his shoulder coyly with her gloved fingers and returned to her other guests.
Now where is the kid?
He soon noticed Devin all dressed up to match the attending nobles but still stuck out as a sore thumb. He uncomfortably, anxiously paced next to the walls, inspecting the sculptures and paintings.
"Devin!" Warden tapped the back of his shoulder abruptly.
"Maker..." The kid jumped in shock and quickly turned to face the assailant. "Commander." He continued with relief and annoyment in his voice.
"I see you are fitting in squire. Has that book on Orlesian culture been any help?" Aedan asked jokingly.
"No ser, I prefer to not... talk to the nobles here."
"That's good Devin. Now, don't drink too much, don't tell the nobles anything about yourself or me, just stick to pleasantries if you are ambushed, maybe excuse yourself if going gets rough. You'll figure it out. Oh, and don't eat the cheese."
"I think I can handle the cheese ser." He replied defyingly.
Aedan scoffed humorously "Alright young Devin. Don't tell me I didn't warn you." He put his arm around the squire's shoulder and in a more hushed tone continued. "No one has tried to seduce you have they?"
The kids face reddened slightly. "Uhmm... no? Ser."
"Good!" He spoke up again, letting go of the kid and slapping him on the shoulder as he left him there, dumbfounded.
Aedan paced the hall, looking at the nobles chatting, trying to avoid any conversation with them. Despair was in their voices, talk of a tragedy that had occurred and a word hotly thrown around - Inquisition. An ancient organization or sub-sect of the Chantry that rose up sometime after the first blight as far as the Warden knew.
He noticed Roberta. A bizarre sight and barely recognizable. She wore a black and gold dress that would have looked elegant on anyone other than her, she looked as uncomfortable as she felt no doubt. Her hair was cleanly slicked back into a ponytail and the makeup did a poor job of concealing her sharp, firm features. She stumbled the halls like a wounded doe, scanning the room with an anxious and almost scared look on her face.
Some nobles quietly snickered as she passed them by, but quickly shut up once she shot a fierce look back at them.
Aedan approached her with two glasses of wine in hand.
"My lady, you look like you need a drink."
"Maker, yes." She grabbed it out of his hand and gulped it down in a second.
"Not your type of event?" He asked, extending his arm to walk with her. She looked at him with a puzzled look.
"I can walk on my own."
"I don't doubt that, but if you wish to avoid these people you might want to stick with me."
Roberta hesitantly held onto his arm and continued walking clumsily alongside the warden. There was something incredibly attractive in stirring up the outrage among the nobles. An unlady-like bear of a woman walking with and chatting to the Hero of Fereldan, while all the perfumed, dressed up social climbers stand on the side and watch. The simple things in life.
"I never got the chance to apologize. What I said back at the camp, about your parents? It was uncalled for." Her face was ever stoic as she looked straight ahead as they walked. She did not respond.
"We have all lost something, how that loss affects us is what makes us who we are."
Something snapped in her mind as she looked at the warden with a melancholy look. Before she could say anything a bell rung out throughout the room and the nobles burst out in applause, turning their attention to the center of the room.
The Marquise spoke up as the silence set in and the applause died out.
"I welcome all my dear friends to this soiree that will hopefully wash away these unfortunate events and celebrate what many have forgotten in these trying times. Reverence, cordiality and peace. So let us be their shepherds and lead by example as Andraste herself would have."
The crowd applauded once again in agreement.
"We also welcome an honored guest this night." She looked towards the steward who was standing by her and extended her hand to bring the crowds attention to the Warden.
"Lord Aedan Cousland. Hero of Ferelden, Warden Commander of Ferelden, Kingmaker, Chancellor of the Crown and Arl of Amaranthine." The crowd once again applauded looking at the warden and Roberta with their arms interlocked.
"And it seems a suitor to my dear cousin." Marquise continued. The nobles shared a polite, posh chuckle. "Now please, gather for the feast everyone."
Following the marquise the nobles gathered in their seats around the royally filled table. Everybody's name was noted on small parchments laid out at every seat.
Aedan had the seat of honor of course to the right of the Marquise. Roberta, strangely, was seated several seats away from the lady of the house. Perhaps not too strange, considering the circumstances. Devin was sat just right to Aedan as well and next to him a younger noblewoman, by her attire and compared to everyone else, she was not too rich or prestigious. Here with her parents, likely looking for a match.
This resembles more a battle plan than a dinner party.
"A very rousing speech your grace. It must be nice to see so many nobles gather to honor your brother." Aedan leaned in to address the marquise.
"That is very sweet of you Lord Commander but most of the nobles have gathered to honor the death of Divine Justinia, may Maker rest her soul."
She feigned a surprised gasp at the warden's surprised quizzical look.
"Oh, I thought you had heard. My dear, I understand how you must feel, I was petrified when I heard first."
"You are serious. How did it happen?"
"Oh it was horrible. As you know Her Divine Majesty gathered leaders of both mages and templars to the Temple of Sacred Ashes for peace talks... everyone present perished."
Aedan's heart stung sharply and his breath stopped for a moment, everything suddenly felt so cold. A name almost escaped his mouth on the tip of his tongue.
Leliana.
He forced himself back into the moment.
"Everyone?"
"Save for the lucky few who have declared the Inquisition."
"Who?" He asked impatiently.
"The hands of the Divine herself. Seeker Pentaghast and the Nightingale, among others." She stated calmly, no doubt noticing the distress in wardens voice and the relief at the news of Lelianas survival. As a calm breeze these words washed over him, taking away the pain and leaving only questions.
"An Inquisition? Why have they declared an Inquisition?"
Marquise chuckled politely, "Not even I know that dear Warden. Some say they are making a grab for power in the wake of chaos, some say they are doing the Makers bidding. They themselves claim that they aim to close the breach and end the war between mages and templars."
"The breach?"
"Oh, how silly of me. As I said, everyone at the Temple perished tragically. It happened through some powerful magic; the sky itself tore open above the ruins of the temple and horrid demons poured out of it."
He immediately thought back to the magical aberration in the forest and the demons that crawled out of it.
What kind of magic could stretch so far across the land?
Aedan sat back into his chair. "Shit."
"These are trying times, which is why we must stick together if we aim to survive this chaos."
We? Who does she mean when she says that, I wonder.
"I am glad to hear that Sister Leliana survived the tragedy. I know you were close."
Were close? Just how well informed is she?
"We had our moments." He replied. "What about you, Your Grace? You must have many admirers." Aedan changed the subject.
"Oh, how crass monsieur Cousland." She flicked her hand coyly. "My lord husband Geraume is off fighting in the war."
"Under what banner if I may ask?" He probed.
"Grand Duke Gaspard of course. The rightful heir to the Imperial throne." She spoke up a little louder than before, grabbing the attention of several nobles who looked up as she said it.
After a brief moment of cordialities and chatter among the noblemen and women, Marquise Beatrix turned to Aedan once more. "I wanted to ask you Lord Commander, you and King Alistair fought in the Blight together, I always wanted to know..."
The ball room doors slammed open suddenly and loudly as a lull came over the present nobles. A man in full armor marched in stomping and clanking his armor. The steward was jaunting behind him trying to calm him down. The man took off his helmet and threw it aggressively to the side.
"Where is this wretch?" he shouted out in a thick Orlesian accent as he scanned the room. Worried whispers and murmurs spread through the table.
"Where is she?" He shouted even louder this time as his voice silenced everyone else in the room. The clanging noise of the helmet spinning on the marble floor stopped and an uncomfortable silence spread through the ball room.
The Marquise broke it, "My dear brother! Fashionably late as always. Come, sit and enjoy the..." A chair scraped against the floor. Aedan glanced over as Roberta stood up as a woman who had been called for guilt on a trial, solemn but confident.
The knight looked her up and down and scoffed. "Dress up a filthy animal all you like, it will still be a filthy animal." Some quiet gasps and some quiet chuckles washed through the room.
"Bertran! That is quite enough!" Lady Beatrix raised her tone commandingly as her face sprung with embarrassment behind the mask.
"This does not involve you, sister." He spoke back, still staring at Roberta.
Aedan saw the anger flushing the Marquises face, barely controlling herself, biting her lip to not say something she would regret.
The knight hastily undid his gauntlet and threw it towards Robertas feet. "You will pay for my brothers death! You will pay for what you did with blood!" He shouted out pointing at Roberta, grief and rage in his voice.
"Bertran, it was an accident." Beatrix interrupted.
"Accident?" He blurted out, outraged. "Incompetence! You swore to follow him, you swore to protect him with your life, you swore to die before he would! Yet here you stand, alive and my brother lay in the dirt, lifeless." His voice trembled as he spoke of Constance. Roberta just stood there, looking at the knight, hard and unbowing, tears welling up in her eyes. The idle chatter among the nobles died out once again as an unnatural silence swelled in the room once more.
"It was my fault your brother died. Your quarrel is with me." Aedan spoke defiantly at Bertran.
Everyone in the room looked at him in an instant with some surprised gasps as if this was a bloody play.
Roberta immediately stopped him, "No! Don't you dare Warden." Tears rolling down her cheeks now, voice trembling and the stoic facade cracking. She turned back to Bertran. "You are right cousin..."
"Don't you dare call me that." Venom and bitterness filled him as he interrupted.
"You are right." She continued, "I swore an oath, and I broke it. I will pay for it." Her head hung low as she tried to hide her face and she wiped her tears with her hand.
"You will." The knight replied, with a low threatening tone. "Midnight. Chateau foyer."
He turned around hastily and stormed out of the room, the metal plates clanging through the silence. Roberta hastily and clumsily lumbered out of the ballroom through another door. The nobles quickly and aggressively resumed chatting between each other, while Marquise sat quietly and emotionlessly, taking a sip of her wine.
"Excuse me." Aedan got up and looked at his squire, "Come on kid." He followed commanders lead. Marquise did not react, attempting to appear unshaken, just sat there as if she was all alone in the room.
Aedan and Devin followed Roberta as she was hastily walking through the halls towards her quarters.
"Ser, what are we doing?" Devin asked worryingly.
"Helping Lady Roberta."
"How?"
A better question is why.
"I don't know yet."
She slammed the door to her room as the two men approached it.
"Roberta?" No answer, only feint sounds of activity in the room, metal.
"It will be easier if you let me in. I tend to be quite loud when ignored." A moment later the doors parted, she was not wearing the dress any longer. Instead leather pants and a tunic hung loosely as she was still adjusting it, some parts of a plate suit.
"What do you want warden?"
"What do you plan to do?" She did not answer, instead turning back into her room to continue putting on the armor.
"You don't have to throw your life away, you know?" She shot a bewildered look at the warden.
"I don't care about my life! I let them down! I failed them! I failed him." She roared in frustration.
Honor is more important to her than her own life. If she could keep her honor and lose her life, she would do it in a heartbeat. Why am I helping her? The bloody woman does not want to help herself.
Yet the warden was compelled to redeem her. He looked to his squire. "Devin! What are you waiting for, the lady needs help with her armor."
Midnight was drawing ever closer. Roberta sat in the corner of the foyer under a painting, staring at the sword in her lap. Aedan and his squire sat on the opposite side of the hall. A bustle of horse hooves gathered outside the front doors. Aedan approached the woman and got on a knee, "Last chance. I can take this off your hands. It is as much my fault as yours."
"You know I can't do that warden." She answered unflinchingly. He knew she couldn't.
The front doors slammed open letting the moonlight and chilly night breeze wash into the halls. Several knights entered, Bertran in front, wearing a different set of armor than previous, and a greatsword on his back. He stormed in aggressively as the nobles began gathering from the ballroom like a pack of hyenas, no doubt to be the audience for the duel, how exciting it must be for them.
"I was half-expecting you to run away, like you did to my brother." Bertran snapped at her. Roberta quietly got up, calm and focused, poising herself for what's to come, sword in hand.
"Is this the famed chevalier nobility?" Aedan bitterly asked the man.
He just grimaced back at the warden, not saying a word.
The steward stepped up in between the two knights. "Madame Roberta. Lord Bertran. You have both agreed to an honorable duel..."
"To death." Bertran interrupted.
"As you say my lord. You are both allowed one set of arms and armor, no side weapons or daggers. Pick your weapons and may the Maker watch over you."
Bertran drew his greatsword, giving it a few swings as he lowered the visor on his golden feathered helmet. Roberta went to pick up her large metal shield, adorned with the Roche flower, and strapped it to her non dominant hand, holding the longsword in the other. Large shield might slow her down, but if she fends off and absorbs most of his swings deftly, he will tire out before her. The man is as big as her, and that's saying something. She has to stay focused and on the defensive, let the big guys rage wear himself down.
Roberta got in her stance. Shield hard in front, sword hand raised to her eye level, blade pointing outwards.
"Death before dishonor."
"Death before dishonor!" Bertran snapped back as an insult.
He immediately swung his greatsword, advancing at his opponent. Roberta retreated a step deftly, circling to the side as he went for another swing, she evaded it once again.
She needs to block the hits. A strong warrior can keep swinging his blade into the air for days, but if he keeps slamming it into a metal plate, that will wear him down much faster.
They danced back and forth for a while. Roberta kept to a defensive stance, stepping back and circling, occasionally making careful swings at her opponent. She was fighting very reservedly as she took several hits to her shield, staggering back, grunting as the impact washed over her. Maybe she hoped that Bertran would wear out, maybe she hoped to punish herself for her failure, to die with honor. Something wouldn't let her though, she kept fighting, kept defending against every blow coming towards her.
The Marquise quietly joined the onlooking crowd, still barely any emotion on her face. Hands pursed in front of her as she silently watched the duel.
"You coward! Aaah!" Bertran shouted swinging his sword, as Roberta backed off evading the attack. And another one after that slammed into her shield staggering her to the side.
"Is this what Constance saw with his dying eyes?"
He swung again. Roberta repressed anger swelling up in her as she took another step back.
The man panted heavily as he went for another swing, "This is what he saw huh? Aaahhhh!"
He slammed into her shield as she quickly raised it above her head.
"A coward! Backing off, running away!"
He kicked her in the now defenseless chest. Roberta stumbled back. Either the impact or the words swelled some anger in her and she cried out as she went for a recklees swing that clanged off the man's greatsword.
"You are no chevalier! And you never will be!"
He pushed the blade away swinging on her neck level, going for the kill. She deftly blocked it with the shield and thrust the blade into Bertrans chest. It sank right in between the plates at least four inches deep. Looked like it got him in the guts. He grunted in pain, stepping back as the sword turned red with blood. Trickles of it dripped on the floor while Bertran stumbled for a second. His opponent did not let down. With another shout she went for another wild downwards swing that was barely parried in time.
"You fucking whore!" Bertran spun with his greatsword stretched going for a powerful strike. It clanged off Roberta's shield so loud, some of the nobles grabbed for their ears and gasped. The shield dented from the impact, but he didn't let down. He just kept slamming the blade at her. The unrelenting clashes stopped her from retreating and the shield was getting more dented with every strike while the man wielding it seethed with fury. Roberta cried out in pain, falling to one knee, shield still raised up but battered and dented. He broke her shield arm. She quickly got to her feet and stumbled back desperately avoiding another swing that clanged off the marble floors.
Roberta rushed to loosen the shield straps and drop it.
"I never understood why father took you in. A filthy mongrel! You are nothing like us." He spat out bitterly, touching his wound that was still dripping with fresh blood through the armor cracks and into his boot.
Roberta let loose of her shield with another cry of pain, stiffly dropping her shield arm to the side like a broken branch. She stepped forward to swing at her cousin again. He parried the attack with one hand and grabbed her by the broken arm with the other. She cried out in pain as he twisted her shattered limb and slammed his helmet into her nose. As she stumbled back, blood poured out of her nose.
The crowd gasped.
Bertran took up his blade in both arms and swung with all his might going for another head swipe. Roberta quick on her feet, regained her focus and rolled under the flying blade, slashing at her opponents ankle. Blood splashed as his tendons ripped and he lost his balance in that leg for a second, regaining his footing and stumbling back.
"Everything was your fault you wench! You should have died in that fire along the rest of the filth!" The venom dripped from his mouth like the blood from his wound. Roberta cried out with rage and desperation, now recklessly running at the chevalier, sword raised. She slashed, but the man parried. She slashed again, he parried. She slashed a third time, it connected.
The crowd gasped again.
Come on, finish it!
Her blade sunk in through his shoulder blade down to almost his heart. She pulled it out, blood spattering as she did. She was still in rage. Another swing from the side was parried by Bertran, last breath effort. The greatsword clattered on the red marble floor.
Roberta panted heavily, eyes wide with adrenaline darting around but focused on her opponent.
"You bitch." Bertran blurted out. He clumsily picked up his sword, raised it above his head and with a blood, rage filled scream swung at his cousin. Her blade ran clean through his heart up to the hilt.
"Death before dishonor..." He blurted out, blood gargling in his throat as he stared into Robertas wide shock filled eyes.
The crowd gasped, followed by a deafening silence. An agonizing wail filled the halls.