The Next Day
*My love,* (strike)
Caoilainn,
*I'm at a loss.* (strike) Words cannot describe...
The quill scratched on parchment, crossing out and rewriting sentences, unable to catch the correct phrasing. Silent reflection had left Alistair with a message too complicated to capture with words; their limitation diluted the essence of his meaning. He retired from the struggle, just as he had the last three times he had tried to write her. The words would not appear, and the quill and parchment failed him. He packed the vellum away to try again later.
The afternoon sun blared from the west as they arrived in Jader and secured their horses at a stable on the outskirts. Jader looked as Alistair expected, a busy port. Muddied roads, buildings with pointed arches divided by columns, refined Orlesian architecture did not impress him. Worn white buildings with chipped gold paint suggested the city no longer received assistance from its capital. Large statues of Orlesian leaders crumbled to ruin. But the city seemed to flourish despite its neglect from Orlais.
A melting-pot of cultures, styles of dress mirrored the nearby countries. Many mabari followed their owners, similar to any Fereldan city; Nevarran artists sold their art street side among Marcher vendors serving cuisine from that region.
Further signs of Fereldan influence increased closer to the water. Streets and less extravagant buildings resembled Denerim or Amaranthine. Orlais had occupied and held Jader during Ferelden's struggle for independence. King Maric had never tried to reclaim the port as Amaranthine had already proven to be a more suitable location for exporting major Fereldan goods and receiving trade from the Free Marches and Nevarra.
Avoiding recognition from Fereldan citizens and a longer time at sea, Alistair had chosen this port over Amaranthine. Unlike other cities in Orlais, Jader maintained lax rules on travel. Economically supported by its busy commerce, the city thrived on its diversity. Restricting travel would derail the structure and income. With less attention paid to the origins of visitors, it would be easy for the King of Ferelden and the Warden Commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens to board a transport ship to the northern country.
Despite Alistair's travels through Ferelden, and his recent excursion through Orlais, he had never visited this busy port.
Countless rows of wooden docks stretched along the entire coast. Once past the city line, Alistair observed more ships than he could count. Designated sections for those traveling cargo differentiated from passenger vessels. Marquee signs with removable numbers updated ships schedules as they arrived and departed. The scent of saltwater wafted through the air and hungry pelicans dived for their catch in the water; the sound of squawking gulls echoed through the yells of sailors. A few passersby gave the party confused stares and chose to walk to the other street.
Alistair took that as an added incentive for them to leave the city as soon as possible.
He pointed to one of the marquees at the end of one of the docks. "It looks like transport ships are on the central docks." The group collectively stopped. When he turned to look at them, he saw their eyes enlarge as they also gaped at the complicated trade city.
The first to rein in his distraction, Nathaniel Howe replied in a sarcastic grumble, "Yes, because jumping on the next boat out of here is a foolproof plan." He shook his head and looked at the rest of the party. "We need to ask around. The inns, bars, locals… someone might know something of the other Wardens."
Heartbeat speeding, Alistair sneered and spoke up before anyone else could answer. "Right then. Will that be before or after we raise a flag that says 'suspicious'?"
Standing between them, Hawke patted his hands on both men's shoulders. "I only know most of what's going on between you two, but I say you settle it over a drink. My vote is we find the nearest bar and wait for the information to find us."
Hawke's choice of words 'I only know most of what's going on between you two,' disturbed Alistair, but he didn't wish to find out what Hawke meant.
"I second that one," Hale echoed, crossing her arms and nodding toward Hawke.
Eyes narrowed, visibly displeased with his bedmate's agreement with the Champion, Nathaniel Howe grimaced in Hawke's direction, but the sorceress Philippa replied, "We have other priorities than getting drunk, imbecile. Nathaniel is right. We should look for evidence first and leave in the morning."
Alistair gave an impatient exhale. "Fine. Shall we split up then?" He raised a critical eyebrow at Nathaniel. "We'll reconvene here in an hour."
A silent confirmation of Alistair's plan, Nathaniel squeezed his lips and gave a nod.
"Fiona?" Not waiting for petty squabbles of who would travel together, Alistair's gaze moved to the woman. Silent since they arrived, she only bowed her head and walked his direction.
The remaining group divided. Nathaniel and Hale ventured the docks; Hawke and a displeased Philippa walked to examine the inland section of the city. It left Alistair and Fiona to explore the merchants and activity dividing the two sections.
Small children weaved between Alistair and Fiona as they walked along the major street bordering the docks crowded with vendors and shoppers.
Disrespectful son of a bitch. Heart still racing, angry thoughts circulated through Alistair's mind about Nathaniel Howe even as he gained distance from the man. The blatant disgust for Alistair's very presence made Alistair's skin crawl. He clenched his fist as he walked.
As if Fiona heard them, she interrupted his thoughts. "You don't have to give him power over you."
"What are you talking about? I don't give him power over me," Alistair snapped his reply, quickly turning his head to face Fiona. Her words sank in as he spoke, "...on purpose." She only raised her eyebrows in polite agreement with his admission. Alistair changed the subject back to her, "Why speak up now?"
With a matter-of-fact shrug, she returned her eyes ahead of her. "You both had good points and I can see your perspectives, even if you cannot."
"What is this witchcraft?" Alistair's brow wrinkled and he glanced at her. Fiona kept her gaze forward, but he noticed her smiling.
"Only a gift of age." She pointed to a statue of a mabari. "Did you know that Ferelden reoccupied Jader for a brief period during the rebellion?"
"I do now."
The pair walked through the crowded street, standing close enough together that they were not divided by locals, and so they could hear each other. Fiona explained the Fereldan influence to the harbor's construction and the town's independence from Orlais.
Listening, Alistair appreciated the distraction from his flawed thinking, fixating on Nathaniel's abhorrent behavior. It seemed Fiona knew the history lesson served a purpose. As they walked, their gazes held on the street, searching for anything unusual to call their attention.
"Would you like to know more?" She peered at something in the distance and nodded for them to walk that direction.
"There's not much else to do." With a careful step to a different walkway, Alistair headed toward a busy shopping square.
"During the Blight, Jader was overwhelmed with Fereldans from western villages along the mountains trying to leave for Kirkwall." She frowned. "The darkspawn seemed to have avoided Jader, the Orzammar tunnels leading them further into Ferelden. The Duke at the time feared for the town, and decided to prohibit Fereldan refugees from entering the city during the disaster. They forced them to Amaranthine."
"But that's a week away." Alistair's lip curled in displeasure. "Even slower on foot."
"From what I understand, many did not survive."
"I shouldn't be so surprised." Snorting, Alistair shook his head in disbelief. "Orlais certainly hasn't matured much, even now."
"Have you?" She asked with a soft voice, a gentle confrontation.
"Ouch." Mocking pain, Alistair's hand covered his chest. He made a mental note to revisit the plan to make things difficult for Orlais when he got back to Denerim. Something in the shopping square caught his eye. "But what's this?"
A news board secured in the ground near a crowded tavern called Alistair's attention. He neared it, scanning through copious handwritten flyers offering business and requesting help. Parchment wrinkled from time and weather, ink bled from rain. As Alistair read the flyers, finding nothing useful until he located one small scrap of paper in a corner.
Caution for ghouls. Don't trust soldiers in blue and silver. Don't follow strange cries at night.
"There's an address here," Alistair mumbled, pulling the note from the board.
Untouched, the note sat alone on the board, given space from the other notes of parchment. Nothing written over it, no other notes gave more information, agreement or disdain.
"I saw this street a few roads ago." With a glance toward the afternoon sky, Fiona added, "We have time."
They retraced their steps through the crowded street, hurrying between shopping townspeople. At the correct side road, they turned. Mostly deserted, a few residents walked along with their heads down, avoiding eye contact. Unremarkable buildings filled with apartments lined both sides of the backstreet. House numbers had faded, neglected like the rest of the city, it made their destination difficult to find. They needed help.
Alistair's fears of others discovering him as the King of Ferelden kept him frozen. He held his breath as Fiona asked a stranger for assistance. Stopping an individual who crossed the street, she made a short question in Orlesian. The person's face scrunched, then looked at him, but a moment later they pointed to a building a few doors down from where they stood. That's a good sign. Alistair kept his skepticism to himself. A moment later, Fiona and Alistair reached the home in question.
A knock, and then another. The pair stood on the steps of the small apartment, waiting for someone to answer. There was nothing unique or interesting about the building, nothing to assume the person who lived here would have any special insight about their quest.
After a moment, the door creaked open to an empty doorway. Alistair passed a glance at Fiona, she shirked her shoulder and the two looked into the vacant entry.
"Hello?" Alistair's head crooked in the doorway, looking left and right for anyone hiding inside. With no sign of a resident, he stepped inside and Fiona followed.
The house seemed vacant. Clean, but unfurnished, an empty lower floor showed nothing, no one. Bare wooden floors groaned with each step, bringing them to a stairwell to the upper story. Cautious, they climbed.
Alistair's head gained view of the floor as he neared the top of the stairs, spotting a shadow across the length of the room. His heart pounded; eyes narrowing, he reached for his sword.
"You're late." A woman's voice announced her presence through an Orlesian lilt.
Brow furrowing, Alistair tilted his head. That voice is familiar. She came into sight. The hooded woman stood at the far end of the room, her arms crossed. Leather-clad, she wore a purple shawl over red hair; it shadowed her eyes.
"Leliana?" With breathy chuckle, Alistair walked toward her. "What are you doing here?"
"The Inquisition has eyes everywhere." Leliana lifted her head, and her eyes came into sight. "I knew you'd be here."
"That's not creepy at all!" Alistair laughed louder, smiling to see his old comrade in clearer sight. "But why are you here?"
"To help you." She looked at her nails then back to him. "The other Wardens made quite an impression on Jader when they passed through."
"We saw the sign." Speaking up, Fiona walked up behind Alistair. She stood a few steps away from both of them. "So you didn't leave it?"
"It wasn't mine." Leliana shook her head and frowned. "It's how I found the house too. It's been deserted since I got here."
"Any idea who left it then?" Careful steps took Alistair to the window near Leliana. He looked out over the street they just came from.
She answered with a soft, denoting grunt. "I'm curious of that myself. None will explain further. I suspect few aside from whoever put up the sign saw what happened, other than the Wardens looking unwell. I've heard a few rumors of a ghoul and nothing else substantial."
Alistair inhaled, his hand rose to his forehead. He leaned against the wall beside the window.
Fiona's brow creased, she addressed Leliana. "We need to get to Weisshaupt to resolve this before anyone else gets hurt. A boat to Cumberland is the fastest way."
"I'm aware," Leliana nodded to Fiona and then addressed Alistair. "I can't help you board a ship myself, but I know who can. You'll need to bring the rest of your group."
"We're supposed to be meeting outside the docks…" Alistair looked out the window again to assess the time, "right about now."
"We should get along then, shouldn't we?" Leliana chuckled lightly and gestured her hand, ushering them both toward the stairs. She smiled at Alistair as he passed, "Congratulations about Caoilainn, by the way."
"Creepy, Leliana. Just creepy." Alistair rolled his eyes, talking to Leliana as she followed behind him.
Walking briskly back toward the docks, Alistair and Fiona led their new guest to the rest of the group. Crashing sounds of the sea's waves seemed louder as evening approached, encouraging Alistair's rush to return to the meeting place. The three took careful steps over the cobbled road.
On the main street dividing the city from the docks, Nathaniel and Hale stood waiting. Hale grimaced in the other direction from Nathaniel. Arms crossed and glaring, Nathaniel spotted Alistair and Fiona first.
"You're late." Nathaniel Howe muttered, his gruff tone carrying notes of derision.
Alistair's mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. "Seems to be a habit of mine. I'm not the only one, apparently." Philippa and Hawke had not returned either.
Leliana stepped from behind Alistair, she narrowed her eyes at Nathaniel. "It would be wise for you to dress in plainclothes, Commander. You all need to come with me."
"Sister Nightingale." Neutral, unmoved by her words, Nathaniel acknowledged Leliana with a raised brow. Alistair assumed the two had met at Skyhold. "We're waiting for two more. Where are we going?"
"To see a connection," Leliana clasped her hands in front of her, "Someone who will help you cross the Waking Sea. Many here are cautious since the Wardens passed before you."
Loud shuffling of feet and displeased whining preceded a posh voice calling from behind them, "Someone remove this idiot from my charge." One hand on her hip and the other pulled the lip of Hawke's breastplate toward the group. She let go with effort, throwing him into their circle. "He nearly ruined the entire mission."
"Ruin is such a strong word." Hawke's pulled up his gloves and fixed his belt with his freedom from Philippa's grasp. "I was only following a lead."
"Into someone's home!" Pointing her finger from the direction they came, Philippa yelled at Hawke. "After you stole goods from a vendor!"
"Borrowed," he clarified, waving his finger to correct her. "I was going to give it back. Maybe." He pulled an item from his pouch and extended his open palm.
A small blood-filled vial on a leather strap rested in his hand. Hawke added, "It looks like some Wardens have been here and lost something."
Gasping, Philippa reached toward the bottle. "A Warden wouldn't misplace that. In the wrong hands, that is a very dangerous blood."
Smirking with pride, Hawke handed it over. Alistair believed her, but not wishing to ask or know the extent of blood magic, he didn't inquire further.
"This is more reason to hurry to Weisshaupt." Leliana's annoyed lilt disrupted their panic. "I've questioned the town, there's nothing left to find here. If you follow me, my connection is waiting. We can arrange your passage as soon as possible."
The three mages' eyes moved from Leliana to Alistair and Nathaniel, waiting for their agreement to follow the woman. Hale only glared the other direction, just as she had been since Alistair returned. Alistair nodded, suggesting they comply with Leliana's recommendation; Nathaniel's lips bunched and he tilted his head forward, his hand suggesting they all follow her.
Rounding the group, Leliana checked the path ahead for any onlookers. Satisfied with the circumstances, she took a step toward the central street, heading away from the docks. The rest followed, Nathaniel and Alistair at the back of the line.
Alistair grinned, staring straight ahead; as he walked, he addressed Nathaniel, "So, I found Leliana and she is helping us get to Cumberland; Garrett Hawke found a clue about the Wardens. What have you brought to the table, Commander?"
The idea to delay departure in favor of searching Jader had been Nathaniel's idea. In spite of loathing the man, Alistair could not resist pointing out the discrepancy to the Commander.
"We didn't find anything of use," Nathaniel grumbled, eyes fixed forward. The young woman walked in front of him, not acknowledging the rest of the party.
"The lovers' quarrel continues, I see." Alistair lowered his tone and his head cocked to the side. Not attempting to filter his bitterness, he glanced at Nathaniel. "You know, I find it pleasantly ironic you've chosen a partner with commitment issues. Regardless, you know you really shouldn't let it get in the way of your work."
Nathaniel looked up, exhaling through his nose, and then glanced at Alistair. He raised an eyebrow. "Considering your fascination with my dealings with Hale, I'd say you should do the same."
Alistair chuckled, gritting his teeth. He wished to throw insults, rationalizing his commentary on Nathaniel's relationship as retribution for the damage caused to Alistair's marriage. But the words stopped short of leaving his mouth.
"We're here." In front of a higher-level inn near the entrance to the city, Leliana turned on her heels to face them. "My contact is expecting all of you." Her eyes lingered on Hale; the young elf squinted in response. She inhaled and held her breath.
Leliana pushed open the door to an upscale inn, more like a fine dining hall. Well-occupied and clean, the tavern's tables were dressed; guests enjoyed their dinner. Unlike the nicest taverns or bars Alistair had visited in his travels, the patrons here drank wine from shaped glasses rather than tankards. The smell of seasoned meat wafted from the kitchens to the doorway. Alistair's stomach grumbled.
Not stopping for them to eat, or even grasp a better look at what the tavern served, Leliana corralled them to a hallway. Alistair looked over his shoulder longingly. Hunger overrode the nervous curiosity about their destination.
Determined steps took Leliana to a door toward the end of the hallway. She gave a single knock and then entered, escorting the six travelers into the room before her. Last in line, Alistair did not see the person they were meeting before he heard Hale curse.
"Fuck all!" She turned around, parting the group, and pushing past Alistair to leave the way she came. "Not having it."
Furnished with a large bed, clothed with fine linens, a counter with a sink basin lined one wall, and a large wooden desk occupied a corner. A blonde elven woman leaned against the back of the desk.
" Asa'var'lin," an apologetic voice called after Hale. " Abelas britha sul'min te'iselen."
Alistair didn't understand the words, but with a vague understanding of the conflict between the Inquisitor and her cousin, he knew enough to recognize the young woman was displeased with the surprise. Despite her volatile nature, Alistair found an odd empathy with Hale.
"Stop!" Voice rising, Hale swung around at the door, but she didn't leave. She leaned against it and crossed her arms. "Leave me be!" Alistair assumed the young woman was smart enough not to leave on her own after hearing information about the Wardens ill-welcome in Jader.
"I just wanted to see you safe." Notes of disappointed exhaustion rang through Alanna's tone. She addressed the entire room. "I'm here to help all of you."
When the Inquisitor's eyes landed on Alistair, she squinted. Recognizing the mutual displeasure, Alistair held his tongue. Happy to see you too. Her gaze traveled on to others in the room.
"Fiona," Alanna bowed her head. "I wondered where you'd gone when you left Skyhold. The well-being of the Wardens seems to concern us all."
Fiona responded with a reticent nod. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Inquisitor."
Alistair evaluated Fiona's frown and rigid stance. She looks uncomfortable.
"Warden-Commander," Alanna said, dipping her head to Nathaniel, "I'd wondered if you received my last letter, but I assume it may have arrived after you departed Vigil's Keep."
I see she trusts the Fereldan Wardens again. Alistair determined the tension between the Inquisition and the Wardens vanished with the help of Nathaniel's ass kissing.
"What?" Hale barked loudly from the back of the room.
Nathaniel's mouth opened and he glanced from Alanna to Hale. Wordless for what to say to the young woman, he sighed and faced Alanna again. "I saw it, Inquisitor. I had nothing else to add at the time-"
A pronounced scoff sounded from Hale. Alistair turned to watch the woman roll her eyes and leave. The room vibrated as the door slammed shut behind her.
With another sigh, this one more defeated than the last, Nathaniel Howe added, "I had no other information about the Wardens, but since we left we have seen what happens to sick Wardens not put into a dreamless sleep."
Philippa interrupted the discussion with her own concern. "The dear girl shouldn't be alone. She is likely to do something stupid. I will find her. You can thank me later, Nathaniel." Philippa's quick steps took her to the door, not waiting for anyone's approval of her decision to leave.
"I'll join them," Fiona hurried after Philippa. Both women left, leaving Alistair with Nathaniel, Hawke, and the Inquisitor. Sister Nightingale stood quietly in the corner with her hands clasped behind her.
Eyebrows lifted, surprised, Alanna looked at the three men. "Well, that was- You know, never mind. Continue, Commander. Did any of you have any more to add?"
Hawke spoke up, explaining the group's hypotheses around the magic in question and reason they needed to reach Weisshaupt. The Inquisitor voiced understanding of their urgency. Conflict amongst the Grey Wardens remained irresolvable, even after the deaths of the corrupted Wardens. Secrets divided the Order, a power struggle the group assessed related to the illness, and the break in the bond. Alanna stated her investment in the Grey Wardens well-being after the aid they provided to the Inquisition.
Decisions already made, Alanna and Leliana explained the plan they derived for the following morning. The group members and their horses would board a cargo boat with Alanna's assistance, vouching for the party members, including the three Wardens among their party.
After the final details were covered, the hungry party ventured back to the dining hall. Philippa, Fiona, and Hale sat at a table, already started on their dinner. The rest joined, eating, drinking, and avoiding further discussion of the feats the next day. Most kept to themselves, the elf girl and Nathaniel ignoring each other, the mage women too tired to engage. Hawke's jovial nature occupied the silence of the other members until they finished their meals and headed to rooms Alanna had already reserved.
Grateful for the space, but exhausted from the day's events, Alistair shut the door behind him and sighed. Privacy, something he had gone without since Crestwood but needed desperately, seemed surreal.
The room was simple. Nicer than the previous inn, the bed was covered by a down-stuffed blanket and a surplus of pillows. It beckoned to him; tired eyes and mind made the notion of sleep glorious. But a desk on the other wall held a lit lone candle, an inkwell, quill pens, and blank parchment, all reminding Alistair of the unfinished letter to Caoilainn folded in his pack.
He opened his bag with aching digits, sore from grasping reigns for the last week, and pulled out the letter. He sat down. Quill nib to ink to parchment, he readied to write but sounds from the next room over disturbed him. A shrill voice yelled indistinct sentences, the only parts of which Alistair could understand were expletives.
Alistair did not tame the gratified smile from spreading on his face. Sweet justice. Nathaniel Howe's continued challenges with his partner gave Alistair an odd satisfaction. He chuckled to himself then returned to the letter.
Time passed easily, and for once words flowed. Free from his own criticism he wrote with honesty, continuing to be entertained by the yelling next door. Still unable to make out the words of the dispute, he noticed when Nathaniel's voice joined Hale's, the loudest tone he had ever heard of the man. It surprised Alistair, and he frowned, worried for the young woman. But the yelling ceased with a thud against the wall, startling him. Concerned for the need to check on them, Alistair listened harder and instantly wished he had never heard them at all. The woman made a discrete sound of pleasure, a moan that resonated through the wall. Another followed soon after, echoed by another thud, and soon followed by more. As they continued, Alistair hurried his signature, settling for only his first initial and stood up.
"Nope," he said to himself, folding the letter and sealing it with candle wax. "I can sleep later."
He left the room, purposefully slamming the door behind him before wandering back to the lobby area to have the letter sent to Denerim.
*Writer's note* The strikethrough functionon FFN doesn't seem to work so I had to improvise with the letter in the beginning. I don't know if I have any readers left on here anyway, but in case you read this and want to know why I did it that way.
Hey all- What do you think of this plot so far? I am dying to know. I've gotten zero feedback on the third fic and I can't tell if people aren't that into it? I *think* there's still a few readers?