Chapter 10 – Bandits and Fools
He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.
– Jim Elliot
We emerged from the swamp around mid-afternoon. After a short walk through arid, hilly country, we joined up with the paved King's Road that would lead us to Lothering. But while our going had been pacey up until now, as we neared the town, the concentration of people on the road increased substantially. Many of the travellers were hollow-faced refugees fleeing the Blight, their worldly possessions tucked into crude sacks or balanced precariously on rickety wagons. Those who were better off had the luxury of a horse, cow or mule to pull the carts; those less fortunate had to take turns towing with their own back and sweat. I watched their procession sadly, being reminded of the hasty departure of my own clan, and wondered if they had managed to find a suitable location for a new camp yet. Dusty children gazed back at us with wide, hungry eyes and I could not find it in my heart to refuse to give them a couple of apples and a few chunks of bread.
"Why do you do that?" sniffed Morrigan disdainfully. "You are just perpetuating their neediness. Unless they learn to fend for themselves, they are as good as dead anyway, whether they receive your charity or not."
"They are just children," I replied quietly, handing a scruffy boy a wedge of cheese and watching him scurry back to his family's cart. "They cannot fend for themselves."
"Of course they can," countered Morrigan. "Children have a remarkable ability to make do in difficult times. Based on what I have seen, they are smaller, faster and more devious than the average adult. You may be amazed at how proficient they are at survival."
"What?" scoffed Alistair. "You mean spending the rest of their lives as street urchin, scrounging for food in the garbage? What a fulfilled existence that is…"
"I simply meant that those who have the capacity to survive, will. Those who don't, won't. You see it all the time in the wilds – those animals who have outlived their usefulness or those who do not have their wits about them are the ones that are picked on by the predators. Those who are fast, strong and observant live to brave another day."
"But animals are also communal," I countered. "They make no distinction between the different members of the group and they help each other raise the infants. Why should I refuse to aid another simply because he is not my kin?"
"Because humans are selfish and unappreciative," replied Morrigan. "Regardless of what Dalish society may be like, out here, life is nasty, brutish and short – and people know this. They will not be thankful for your help."
"Ah, I see," drawled Alistair. "This is your way of telling us that you have never had a friend in your entire life and you try to mask your loneliness in an air of disdain for humanity."
"I can be friendly," countered Morrigan, "when I want to be. I just haven't met many people who would have been worthwhile friends. And I certainly do not see any worthwhile candidates here," she added with a distasteful look at the refugees.
"Making friends and helping people are not the same thing," I replied. "We're Grey Wardens, and these people have been affected by the Blight. Surely it's our duty to help them." I shot an inquiring look at Alistair.
"Not as such, no…" my fellow Warden replied. "The Order's primary focus is military, the main aim of which is to defeat the archdemon. Once that happens, these people can go back to living their lives and you will not need to worry about them."
"Is my wanting to help them really that strange?" I asked defensively, digesting what Alistair had said.
"Your heartfelt concern for the helpless is…unconventional," he admitted.
I shook my head in exasperation. I could not understand either Morrigan or Alistair. Surely neither of them were so heartless as to stand idly by while children starved to death around them…
"Oh, perfect…" muttered Morrigan, interrupting my thoughts. Looking up, I could see that the line of people had come to a halt. "A dead horse in the middle of the road is just what we need."
"How do you know it's a dead horse?" I asked.
"Looking at the obvious lack of prosperity around us, I don't see what else it could be," she replied with an airy wave of her hand.
"Let's go find out," Alistair suggested, stepping off the road and jogging to the front of the queue. Morrigan and I followed suit.
"There seem to be men blocking the road," I observed as we neared the source of the standstill.
"That can only mean bandits or toll collectors," adduced Alistair. "Not much of a difference to be honest, though. Both of them are out to rob you."
"They want money?" I asked. "What for?"
"For using the road."
"You can't be serious," I scoffed. But as we approached, I could see that collecting money was exactly what the men were up to. One of them was holding a leather bag into which people were reluctantly dropping whatever coin they had while five others stood by with their weapons on clear display as a warning to anyone who was foolish enough to object. All of them were rough-looking and unshaven.
"Bandits," murmured Morrigan. "How lovely…"
Upon seeing us approach, the man with the bag bade one of his companions to mind the crowd while he came to intercept us. "Ho there, fellow travellers," he drawled, flashing us a smile that revealed several gold teeth. "I know you are eager to be on your way, but you'll need to wait your turn like everyone else."
"I cannot see this ending well," muttered Alistair, laying a hand on his pommel.
"Umm… they dunna look like them others," mumbled a thickset shem, scratching his bald head. "Maybe we shudda let them go? They have swords, you know…"
"Nonsense!" derided the other. "You know the rules: everyone pays ten silvers. That includes peasants, merchants, and mercenaries."
"What about Grey Wardens?" I asked archly. I was hoping that reference to the Order will knock some sense into their thick skulls.
"Grey Wardens?" gaped the unintelligent one. "Did you hear that? We'll get the bounty!"
"What bounty?" I asked, surprised. This exchange was not going as expected.
"Oh, didn't you hear?" drawled the first one, who appeared to be their leader. "Teyrn Loghain has promised a healthy reward for anyone who killed himself a Grey Warden."
"Is that so?" I asked cautiously, my fingers inching towards my swords.
"Yeah," grinned the gold-toothed shem. "Word is that they are officially traitors to the realm after they went and killed the king."
"What?" I exploded. "We did no such thing!"
"Well, according to Teyrn Loghain you did," the bandit countered. "And I daresay his word carries more weight than yours, him being the King Regent and all."
"King Regent?" blurted Alistair. "That backstabbing bastard…"
"I would be careful with your word choice, my friend," leered the leader. "Your position is unenviable as it is without you badmouthing the King Regent."
"I did not know bandits were so patriotic," gritted Alistair.
"Only when it is profitable," came the flippant reply. "Now. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's your choice," added the bandit, pointedly laying a hand on his sword.
"I say we teach these fools a lesson," declared Morrigan, hefting her staff.
Golden teeth flashed as the leader burst into laughter. "That's bold talk for a pretty lady! Shame we won't have a chance to put that quick tongue of yours to better… Argh!" he cried as Alistair's knife embedded itself into his neck.
"Anyone else got clever one-liners they wish to try out?" asked my fellow Warden as the shem slid to the ground with a gurgle. The other bandits looked at each other dubiously. "Didn't think so." He caught my look of surprise. "What?" he asked. "He was annoying."
"We could have questioned him for information," I explained, watching the shem's blood drool slowly over the flagstones. Somehow, killing humans was not quite the same as killing darkspawn.
"Well, if it's information you want, you can always ask the rest of them," he replied. "I'm sure they will be eager to share their knowledge," he added pointedly. The other bandits cringed under his gaze.
"We don't know nothing, really…" one of them said.
"W-we were just tryin' to get by, you know?" mumbled the heavyset shem by way of an explanation. "Before the darkspawn get us all."
"By preying on innocent refugees?" I asked flatly.
They shuffled their feet guiltily. "Ever since the King Regent marched through, there'd been no soldiers in town. We thought…"
"That you would make a quick profit while the law was otherwise occupied," surmised Alistair, retrieving his knife with a disgusting slurp. "Who's in charge of Lothering now?"
"No one…" confessed one of the bandits. "The bann took all his men north with Loghain."
"There's a couple of Templars about," said another, "but they got their hands full with all them refugees that've been coming through. Look, we were just trying to make do like everyone else."
"What you were doing is unjustifiable," I hissed. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."
"Oh!" laughed Morrigan. I turned to look at her with puzzlement. "Forgive me, but I did not realise that the Grey Wardens had the authority to scold scoundrels like naughty children."
"What do you propose we do with them, then?" I countered.
"Hand them over to the Templars!" shouted a woman from behind us. Turning around, I could see that a sizeable crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. Several people murmured in acquiescence.
"Throw them in the stocks!" cried another. More muttered agreement, louder this time.
"I say kill them!" someone else called.
I cast my eyes anxiously over the angry faces. The mood against the bandits was definitely hostile.
"I suggest we leave before the crowd decides to exact its own justice," whispered Alistair next to me.
"What about the bandits?" I whispered back.
"If they know what's good for them, they will run. And hopefully think twice about their future vocations."
"That's asking a lot from bandits," muttered Morrigan. "After all, a raven cannot become a dove overnight."
"Hey, I don't hear you coming up with anything constructive," he replied defensively.
I wracked my brains for some sort of solution. The crowd was getting antsy and I did not want to get caught in the middle of a murderous mob. Then, a spark of inspiration hit me. Turning back to the bandits, I said, "I suggest you hand back everything you've taken." When they began to fidget indecisively, I added, "Unless you want us step aside and let this mob have their way with you."
The men cast each other nervous glances. After a tense moment of silent communication, one of said, "It's all in that barrel over there."
Catching Alistair's eye, I indicated that he should go and check. Sure enough, he was able to retrieve two large bags of loot in addition to the sack that was lying by the side of the leader's corpse.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he muttered as he deposited the two bags near my feet.
"So do I," I replied. Turning to the crowd, I said, "As you can see, we have relieved the bandits of their ill-gotten gains. We are going to take this money to the town Chantry so it may be returned to those it was taken from. We will also seek out the person in charge of the town's defence to ensure that this type of robbery does not happen again."
"Really?" scoffed Morrigan. "This is your plan?"
"I trust no one has a problem with that," I added meaningfully, ignoring Morrigan.
"How do we know you won't just take the money?" cried a man from the crowd.
"You don't. But I give you my word as a Grey Warden that the money will be handled properly."
"You may be a Grey Warden," called another, "but you're still an elf."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked testily.
"That you're just as bad as the rest of them bandits," came the unapologetic reply.
"What?" I exploded, against my better judgement.
"You heard me!" cried the man. "Elves are nothin' but low-life scum feeding off the rest of us decent folk. I say we take that money rather than have it end up in the hands of another set of thieves."
I could do nothing but gape in complete disbelief as the crowd murmured its assent and began to move slowly towards us. At that moment, however, there was a commotion at the back of the line and the crowd quickly parted to reveal a group of heavily armoured man making their way towards us.
"Templars," said Alistair. Morrigan quickly drew her hood up and tried to make herself inconspicuous.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I asked nervously. The soldiers looked like they could do some serious damage and I had no desire to get into a fight with one of them.
"It's difficult to say…"
"What's happened here?" asked the lead Templar. "We got word from the town that there was a blood being spilt on the King's Road."
"You were informed correctly, sir" said Alistair, stepping to the front. "We dealt with a group of bandits who were pilfering travellers and refugees on their way to Lothering."
"Is that so?" asked the Templar, surveying the scene. His eyes came to rest on the corpse. "I only see one bandit."
"The rest of them scampered off," admitted my fellow Warden.
"I see," the Templar murmured. "And who are you to impose order on the road?"
"We are Grey Wardens, sir."
"Grey Wardens, you say?" asked the man. "I hope you realise that all extant Wardens have been declared to be traitors to the realm for killing the king."
"We did no such thing," I hissed.
"No, I don't think you did," admitted the Templar. "The Grey Wardens have always been an honourable order and I don't believe they would be so malicious – or foolish – as to kill a king. But, the Teyrn's word is now law and I cannot contest it."
"So, will you arrest us then?" I asked.
"No. You have done an honourable thing, dispatching those bandits. They have been harrowing refugees for weeks, but we have been unable to spare any men to deal with them. For this you have my thanks. However, I suggest that you do not advertise your presence here and move on quickly. You may take the loot the bandits had collected by way of payment for your services."
"Erm, thanks. I guess," I mumbled, taken aback by the Templar's kindness. "But surely these people need the money more than we do. We were going to take it to the Chantry and ask them to distribute it among the needy."
"That is very thoughtful of you. The Revered Mother's resources have been stretched thin trying to help the refugees as best she can. The money would be put to good use, I can assure you."
"You're welcome," I replied, shooting a meaningful look at Morrigan who rolled her eyes.
"Now, unless there is anything else, my men and I need to disperse this crowd and then return to the town and prepare the evacuation of the occupants before the Horde reaches us."
"Yes, there is actually. Is there anywhere we can get supplies?" I asked.
"There are a couple of merchants plying their wares, though they are charging extortionate prices. Food is scarce – the local wildlife has dispersed and the surrounding vegetation has been picked clean. I suggest you try your luck elsewhere. Good day."
"That's encouraging," observed Alistair dryly, watching the Templars begin to direct the crowd towards the town again.
"At least we didn't get arrested. Or killed," I pointed out.
"True, but you did foolishly throw a pile of money away, which I assume we will need if we wish to have dealings with unscrupulous merchants," said Morrigan.
"Let's take what we need then and give the rest to the Chantry. Unless you want to carry three sacks of coin around for the rest of our journey."
"We could fashion some dog-sized saddlebags," mused Alistair. The Mabari growled in response. "Nor not."
We quickly divided the money and were about to set off when I noticed that something had caught the attention of the Mabari in one of the bushes by the side of the road. Intrigued, I went over to see what it was.
"Alistair?" I called. "I think you should take a look at this."
"What? What is it?" he asked, hurrying over.
Morrigan followed at a more leisurely pace, though I could see that she was curious as well. Her face quickly fell when she saw what the commotion was about. "Another dead body? Haven't you seen enough already?"
"He's not just any dead body," said Alistair. "He is wearing Redcliffe's colours. He was a member of Arl Eamon's guard."
"You mean Cailan's uncle?" I asked. "What do you suppose he was doing in Lothering?"
"I have no idea. Search the body. Maybe we can find something useful."
"Ransacking corpses?" asked Morrigan. "I knew you had few standards Alistair, but this is a new low, even for you."
"I found something!" I declared, holding up a slightly blood stained letter.
"What does it say?" asked Alistair.
"So many of my fellow knights have been searching for the Urn," I began. "Surely one of them must have found Brother Genitivi by now. Still, until I hear that all is well, I must proceed as planned. Brother Genitivi holds the key to finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes: We always knew this, but I believe I now know where Brother Genitivi lies. I have been to his home in Denerim and found the trail, and I am amazed that other knights have not done likewise. Unless they have? No, it is best not to get caught up in thoughts of conspiracy. Ser Donall awaits my report in Lothering. I must go to him immediately and report what I have learned. Should anyone find these ramblings, all I ask is that he be informed of my fate. I pray that he complete what I cannot. Ser Henric."
"He was searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes?" gaped Alistair. "Now that is an exercise in futility."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The Urn of Sacred Ashes is a religious relic said to contain the remains of Andraste, a prophet upon whose teachings the Chantry is founded. It is believed to have the power to heal anyone, even those on the verge of death."
"So why is trying to find it an exercise in futility?"
"Because no one knows where the Urn is located, or whether it even exists in the first place."
"Why would Eamon send men to find it then?"
"I have no idea," confessed Alistair. "The Arl was always a very sensible man. He never put much stock in what he called 'fanciful stories'. If his knights are looking for the Urn, it means something is seriously wrong."
"We could try to find this Ser Donall. The body is a few days old at most, so he may still be waiting for his companion."
"It's worth a try," agreed Alistair. "Donall and I trained together before I was sent to become a Templar. At the very least he could provide us with information about the Arl."
"Where do you propose we start?" I asked.
"The inn it is then," I declared, setting off. "I hope they have food…I'm starving!"
"I wouldn't put much of a wager on that," Alistair warned. "You heard what the Templar said."
"I can still have hope," I replied.
"You mean a fool's hope," corrected Morrigan.
"You are just like Tamlin…" I accused. "He always had a knack for shaking my optimism."
"This Tamlin," started Morrigan. "Was he your lover?"
"What?" I cried. "No! J-just a friend. Why would you think that?"
"Lovers have a curious habit of pointing out our worst faults and then proceeding to try and correct them."
"Sounds like you speak from experience," I said.
"Hardly. I am good at observing people's interactions and drawing inferences."
"Which is probably why you never had any 'interactions' of your own," Alistair sniggered.
"Have you heard me comment on your lack of 'interactions'?" countered Morrigan.
"No. Because there is no lack."
"Really? That's surprising. I would have thought women were attracted to strong and intelligent men."
"Are you saying I'm not strong?"
"No, I'm saying you're not intelligent."
"On the contrary, I am very intelligent. I was educated by the Chantry. I studied history. They don't make stupid Templars."
"Then I must have been mistaken. I'm very impressed."
"No you're not. You're not even listening to me."
"My, you are smarter than you look after all. Your Chantry must have been very proud."
"Alright, children. That's enough." I declared as we reached the ramshackle inn. Opening the door, we were confronted by a smoky interior that reeked of sweat and stale alcohol. Dirty men and women sat at greasy tables nursing tankards solemnly while the innkeeper was polishing glasses with a stained cloth, eyeing us suspiciously.
"Who knew that an establishment could hold so much warmth and cheer?" quipped Alistair.
"I would be more concerned about those men in the corner," warned Morrigan, indicating the heavily armoured group that was watching us intently.
"If I'm not mistaken then they're Loghain's men," confirmed my fellow Warden.
"Do you think they are looking for us?" I whispered as we squeezed around a wobbly table.
"I don't know," replied Alistair, watching the men rise and move towards our table. "But I think we are about to find out."
"Well, well, well," drawled a particularly burly man with a shaved head, planting a booted foot on our table. "If it isn't the elf and the bastard. And a Chassind whore by the looks of it. I tell you, Alistair, you really know how to pick your friends."
"And you are?" Alistair asked icily.
"The man who is going to be very rich when he presents your heads to Loghain."
"Not if my friend here sticks you first. Oh, and did I mention that she has a Mabari?" The wardog growled from beneath the table, in response to which the man wisely removed his foot from the table.
"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for threats," chimed a melodic voice. "These travellers are welcome to take refuge here just like all the other poor souls who have been displaced by the Blight." Craning my neck, I could just make out a slender red-haired woman from behind Loghain's men.
"They aren't just travellers. They are Grey Wardens and traitors to the realm."
"I'm sure you are mistaken…" she soothed, moving to lay a delicate hand on the man's shoulder.
"Stay out of this, Sister," grunted the shaven thug, batting her away. "Unless you want to share their fate."
"Hey!" cried Alistair, jumping to his feet. "You be nice to her!"
"Or what? You'll send me to bed without supper?"
"Bad choice of words," I sighed, whacking him over the head with a coin bag. The man crumpled like a straw doll.
Taking my queue, Alistair pounced on the nearest man and proceeded to break his nose. Morrigan jumped onto the table and used her staff as a battering ram to knock the wind out of another crony, while the Mabari launched himself at the throat of a third. Meanwhile, the red-haired woman had produced a slender sword from among her robes and was facing off with the fourth. The fight was over before it had a chance to begin.
"What do you suppose we should do with them?" asked Alistair, indicating the prone men on the floor.
"We could kill them," suggested Morrigan. "That way we know we will never run into them again."
"Loghain will just send more," said Alistair.
"I have an idea." I grabbed the nearest thug by his jerkin and slapped him awake. "Listen very carefully. Unless you want a new hole to breathe from, I suggest you run back to Loghain like a good little lapdog and tell him that we're coming for him. Tell him we know what really happened at Ostagar and it's only a matter of time before everyone else does too. Got it?" The man nodded woozily before his eyes rolled back into head again.
"What was the point of that?" asked Alistair.
"Evening the odds," I replied with a smile. "Now it's Loghain who will have to look over his shoulder, wondering when we will show up with a dagger with his name on it. Hopefully that message will shake his confidence a bit."
"I apologise for interrupting," said the Sister, coming over to us. "But I just wanted ask if any of you were injured."
"We're fine, thanks."
"Oh, good," she replied, smiling. "I'm sorry for interfering, but I couldn't stand by and let them hurt you."
"I think we can take care of ourselves," muttered Morrigan.
"Of course," she replied, blushing. "You are Grey Wardens, after all. I am Leliana, a Lay Sister of the Lothering Chantry. At least…I was."
"What do you mean?" asked Alistair.
"I joined the Chantry to live a life of religious contemplation. However, I came to realise that it was not the life I was meant to lead."
"What life are you meant to lead then?"
"The coming of the Blight has upset the balance of the world. I cannot just sit in a Chantry and watch the kingdom be destroyed. That is why I am coming with you."
"Excuse me?" I spluttered.
"I-I know it sounds insane, but I had a dream in which the Maker informed me of your coming and that I am to join you. For what purpose, I do not yet know, but I feel it in my heart that this is the right path."
"More crazy?" asked Alistair. "I thought we were all full up."
"Please!" beseeched Leliana. "Unless we do something, this darkness and this chaos will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. Let me help you do the Maker's work and rid the world of this Blight!"
"One cannot fault her enthusiasm," commented Morrigan. "No matter how delusional she may be."
"She could be useful, though. She is quite good with a sword and we are in the process of mustering an army," I pointed out. "Plus, she may know something about the Urn."
"I don't know…" mused Alistair. "It would be handy to have a god on our side, but…"
"It's settled then," I chirped brightly. "Welcome to our group, Leliana."
"Oh, thank you so much!" she cried. "I will not let you down!"
"That remains to be seen," muttered Morrigan.