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"Seek the one of my blood, she says." I grumbled as I entered through the gates of Denerim. "Like I'm supposed to figure out whatever the fuck that means."
I guess I have myself to blame. I've been asking for a reason why I've been plucked from my world, and I got my answer. To tell the truth, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I guess I should feel relieved that I got something to do, but then I'm doing it at the behest of a divine who doesn't even have a straight idea of what I really want in return.
A cure for the curse? She may be capable of doing a lot for this world, but I doubt she can reverse something as bleak and runs deep as the Darksign.
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted as a man bumps into me, knocking himself flat on his back without even moving me.
"Andraste's flaming ass! You made of iron, man?" He yelped, rubbing at his sore chest. I glared down at him in response, but to my surprise, I saw a familiar face in him. It was none other than my friend from Lothering. "Old man Locketti?"
"Vandhal!" He exclaims, I help him up and he wraps his strong and sturdy arms around me in a tight but goodnatured grip. "Hahahaha! The Maker's good! It's nice to see a familiar face after all this time!"
"Likewise, old friend. What are you doing in Denerim?"
"Long story, but I'll make it as short as possible." He said, walking with me back to the castle. "After you left, I helped the caravan get safely to Gwaren. Most of them want to abandon everything and start over elsewhere."
"I guess if there's a Blight upon the land, it's easy to severe all ties." I commented.
Loki nodded, "Some went to the Free Marches, like the Hawke family and that Elegant girl. Others, scattered off to Rivain and Orlais. But me? I didn't want to turn my back on Ferelden just yet. Seeing you fight against them darkspawn back in Lothering, I felt ashamed running away from the war."
"It may have been better, wiser even, if you did so." I pointed out.
Loki shrugged, "Perhaps. Next thing I knew, I was up to my neck in darkspawn ambushed through the forests of the Brecilian with a band of mercenaries and adventurers looking to get some payback or collect a few coins from the teryns. Then, I happened to rescue the Arl of Dragon's Peak from an Ogre. After that, I ended up here, as a soldier in his army."
"He didn't promote you to any rank other than a common grunt?" I asked.
"Who needs rank?" Loki answered, "I don't need people saluting me to tell me my own worth! Besides, I'm content where I am."
"If you say so."
"And what about you?" Loki turns to me, "How have things fared on your end?"
I died. Killed a dragon, nearly died once more facing an undead soul hunter. I journeyed with a Grey Warden, rescued a Queen from certain danger and am now waist-deep in politics. "Could be better. Could be worse."
Unsatisfied with my vague answer, Loki insists on prying for details. "Oh come now! That's hardly fair, you gotta give me something."
I shook my head and smiled, "Oh Loki. Some things are best left unsaid, and in my case that's mandatory."
Loki rolled his eyes, "Fine, be that way." He turns heel to join the crowded streets once more, "Well, it was nice seeing you. I hope I get to see you there when we finally take the fight to the darkspawn and end this damned Blight!"
I nodded acknowledgingly and climbed the steps of the castle entrance and into the throneroom where the Landsmeet was taking place.
From the sound of clashing steel, I could tell I had missed much, and it was a good thing I came when I did.
The debates were over, the decision had been made. Loghain had lost support, and the Warden has secured the Queen's right to the throne along with Alistair. At the moment, however, he was busy dueling with the general.
This might've been a desperate attempt to win the Landsmeet, but I admired the die-hard attitude Loghain was showing, even if he was our enemy.
"Where the hell have you been?" Alistair asked me as I joined his side. Leliana stood next to him with Bon-bon sitting at her feet. Frankly, I wasn't surprised she would ignore me after the conclusion of our walk in the woods. But this was neither place nor time for me to address the matter.
Perhaps in private, I can clarify the complications.
"Took a walk." I answered the soon-to-be king, "I take it, thing's have gone well on our side?"
Watching Aedan trading blows with the general was a fitting answer enough. But this wasn't a fight against a lowly darkspawn hurloc, or a brutish ogre. Loghain was hailed as a hero of River Dane, as I heared talk amongst the soldiers in the barracks, and didn't earn that title from lack of skill with the blade.
He stood on par with Aedan when it came to footwork, manueverings and the like. To top it all off, he had the testament of his years and experience in the battlefield as his allies. But strength and youth were Aedan's, and the climax of this battle would prove which of the two was the winning trait.
Suddenly, Loghain lunges forward, bashing Aedan's guard aside with his shield and managed to drive his sword through the Warden's left calf. Grunting in pain, the younger man surmounts the agonizing wound and counters the assault, landing a heavy blow to the general's exposed shoulder that drove him to his knees.
Limping back and dripping blood all over the velvet carpet, Aedan takes a moment to adjust to the pain before drawing close to have at it again.
Loghain lunges forward a second time, but had his attack anticipated by the Warden, and he finds himself losing his weapon from Aedan's expertly timed parry. The sword was thrown across the room, and a few nobles dodge out of the way as it hits the wall behind them.
With only his shield to protect himself, Loghain retreats, but not fast enough to block Aedan's next attack. The Warden's blade bursts through the general's thick platemail armor and comes out through his back!
This doesn't kill Loghain, however, merely wounding him badly. Arl Eamon calls for the duel to halt and signals a nearby healer to see to the dueling parties' injuries. Aedan was victorious.
"I underestimate you, Warden." Loghain heaved as the healer's magic closed his would-be fatal wound. "I thought you were like Cailan, a child playing at war. I was wrong."
I could see the features around Alistair's boyish face grow hard at the traitor's words. "There's a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died."
Aedan frowned, clearly not in the mood to be merciful or entertain the general's apologetic display. "You'll pay for all you've done, traitor." He was within his grounds to execute Loghain, and any law on an land would see it as justice.
"Wait!" But not everyone sees it that way, it seems. "There is another option!"
It was Riordan, the Warden we had rescued from Arl Howe's dungeons. "The teyrn is a great general and warrior of reknown, let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining." Seeing the Warden frown, he continued. "There are too few of us. It doesn't matter what we like, it is what we must do. Our duty is to slay the Archdemon. We aren't judges. Kingslayers, bloodmages, traitors, rebels and carta thugs, common bandits. Anyone with the skill and mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us."
There were only three Wardens in all of Ferelden, as far as I know. So there is a compelling reason to have as many as they can get, I understood that.
Not my decision to make, nor is it my problem. I'm just as spectator to this drama, and I have to say, I find it entertaining.
Anora, naturally as any daughter would want, jumped at the suggestion to save her father from death. "The Joining is often fatal, is it not? If he dies, you gain your revenge. If he lives, you gain a general. Doesn't that satisfy you?"
Alistair, on the other hand, shares Aedan's anger for the man. "Absolutely not! Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and sisters at Ostagar and blamed us for the deed! He has hunted us down like animals! He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?!"
Aedan's mind was already set, "He must die."
"You can't do that!" Anora cries, "My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people of Ferelden!"
"Anora, hush." Loghain chided her gently, clearly accepting his fate. "It is over."
"Stop treating me like a child!" Anora retorted, "This is serious!"
"Daughters never grow up, Anora." Loghain answers calmly, "They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."
"Father…" Anora choked on her tears.
"Just make it quick, Warden. I can face the Maker knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."
I calmly made my way through the crowd and pushed the massive throneroom doors open, content in knowing that this matter was settled. Before my foot left the threshold, I hear the soft 'chunk!' of the Warden's blade meeting Loghain's flesh once more, putting an end to the general's life in full view of the lords and ladies of the Landsmeet. Alistair's claim to the throne was now secure.
"Justice is served." I remarked, making my way quickly to the room provided to me by the Arl.
It won't be long now. The armies will be gathered so that the march against the darkspawn would begin. I will have only a few moments to prepare for the journey, and I would spend it all on sharpening my arrowtips and blades.
I waited in that room for what seemed like an eternity. The Warden was busy conversing with the nobles, and like always, the wait was like torture. Since there wasn't anything else for me to do, having done with sharpening and upgrading my equipment to their limits, I considered getting some practice with the bow.
The courtyard with the makeshift target dummies made for an excellent substitute, and I began to fill them with arrowshafts.
Since my arm was used to carrying heavy weapons like the spear and sword, transisting to the bow was not as easy as I first thought. But if I were to survive longer in battle, I must be skilled or at the very least learn all forms of combat, and the bow is a very useful tool indeed.
Hitting the bullseye required patience, but no matter how patient I was, I could never hit where I was aiming.
"Pulling your arm while nocking the string is what's causing your aim to falter." I hear the Orlesian bard suggest, her voice coming from across the courtyard behind me. "Use your back muscles."
I was hoping to avoid a confrontation with her. But I see that's just asking for the impossible.
I did as she suggested since Leliana was more skilled with the bow than I. But even with following her instruction, the arrows didn't hit their mark. Sighing in resignation, I motioned for her to show me how it was done.
One arrow sailed through the air, landing true upon the target's middle. Another was loosed, splitting the first shaft in two and burying its head further in, proving that I had much to learn.
I looked down at the ivory bow in my hand, clearly it would serve better with a more skilled pair of hands. Not mine to keep…
I handed the bow and quiver to Leliana, "Here, it suits you better than on me anyway."
For a moment, I stood there in uncomfortable silence. I needed to clear something up, and I knew I needed to do it now. "Leliana…I apologize for what I said in the woods. Those words may have been few, but stung nonetheless…you didn't deserve that."
Leliana blinked a few times, then smiled. But her answer was left unsaid, for the Warden had finished with the last of the Landsmeet's accolades, and I was summoned to accompany him on his journey to Redcliffe.
"So…" I muttered as I saddled up, "It begins…"
There lies the task of slaying a godlike beast and stopping a corrupted army's advance on a foreign land, not quite different from what I was accustomed to. It was quite simpler in Drangleic, everyone was drawn to a Greater Soul, and only the strongest who can best them are worthy to drink of their essence. It is an endless, boring, and very bleak cycle that I am grateful to be rid of.
"Correction." Aedan interjects, hoisting himself up to his horse, "It ends here…"
"One way or another, yes."
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