"You know, slavery's been illegal in Ferelden for... well... forever. I think." Alistair hefted his new sword experimentally, testing the weight and nodding to himself. Lyria had managed to find a few weapons and bits of armor for sale that had probably been overlooked because they were tarnished and dirty. But with some cleaning they had shown themselves to be more than serviceable.
Lyria shrugged and glanced back at the Qunari who was silently following them. "He was in the middle of the market. We did technically pay for him."
"That was a donation to the chantry!" Leliana insisted. Alistair had returned with the red haired chantry sister when the two wardens had regrouped. Before Lyria could voice any objection, the woman had warned them of some of Loghain's men looking for them and where an ambush was outside of town. She had also helped convince the revered mother to release the Qunari into their service and loudly insisted she was capable of fighting. After that she reluctantly agreed to let the woman follow.
Lyria knew her bias. She disliked the chantry. It was why she had encouraged Alistair to go there so she wouldn't have to. But then again, most of the surfacer humans believed in the Maker or at least swore by him, so she might as well get used to their company. Still, she could already sense an impending argument with Leliana. But that wouldn't happen just yet. Let it come when it comes.
"Sten, we have some food and water. We usually make something a bit heartier once we break for camp, but if you need something?" Lyria offered the Qunari her canteen. The templar had given her quite the look when she had asked if Sten was for sale. But in her defense he had been hanging near the market. Once she had convinced the armored man that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself he left her to question the giant. He seemed almost eager for death, an attitude that reminded her of the Legion soldiers. But in the Legion that death was used for a greater purpose. It seemed a shame for this man to waste his sitting helplessly in a cage when he could die defending against the blight instead.
The giant took it, drank for a few moments, neatly wiped the mouth of it with his sleeve, and then handed it back. "I will manage. You need not concern yourself."
Alistair put a hand on Lyria's shoulder. "So where to now? We need to start trying to deal with the Blight."
Lyria nudged a stone with her foot. She had to admit the Imperial Highway as impressive. Not quite up to dwarven standards and shoddily maintained, but it was still impressive. "I was thinking Denerim." She could already see the confusion start to surface in Alistair's face. Denerim was the seat of power in Ferelden, and if Loghain truly was seeking to crush the last vestiges of the wardens it wasn't exactly a friendly place. "I have a friend there that would make a good ally, and if we go now before gossip takes root too deeply, maybe we can find a few more allies and a safe haven or two should we have to return later. We're going to have to go there eventually. Probably better it be done sooner rather than later."
He wrinkled his nose. "You know, your plans always make sense. But they also never sound like good ideas." He glanced at the Qunari. "Denerim isn't really a safe place."
She chuckled and shrugged. "No place is safe right now. Besides, it's probably the only place we can get Sten fitted for proper armor." She elbowed her fellow warden. "Hey, didn't you say there was someone you wanted to meet up with in Denerim too? To warn them about the Blight? The sooner the better for that too, right?"
Alistair looked embarrassed. "Right. I did say that, didn't I?" Lyria suspected he had an old flame in the city that he didn't want to discuss. Considering she wanted to go to find Gorim, she understood.
"The sun's getting low," Lyria said idly. "Let's pitch camp somewhere soon while we still have some light to pitch it by."