Disclaimer: Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.
Chapter Two: The Iron Bull
The Inquisition forces that had been committed to the Crestwood region were somewhat limited, but had expanded beyond the forward camp that was first established by Scout Harding. In fact, only a token group had been left at the forward camp, the rest having relocated to Caer Bronach. A group consisting of Inquisitor Adaar, Warden Blackwall, Solus and demon boy Cole had departed from the newly acquired keep and were now moving on Old Crestwood in an attempt to get underneath the greatly reduced lake to close the Rift.
Meanwhile, The Champion had moved on back to Skyhold, along with Varric, Dorian and Sera. Warden-Commander Amell, along with the Seeker and First-Enchanter Vivian, were busy organizing the keep as Red's chief lieutenant, Charter, and her people were getting settled in. I, on the other hand, was doing my best to stay out of their way. With Wardens operating in the area, everyone had agreed that Fereldan's Commander of the Grey should remain as unseen as possible by anyone not of the Inquisition for the time being. At least not until it was certain that the Wardens pursuing her were long gone.
There was a lull in the activity as Morgana, now donned in blue and black robes instead of her armor, surveyed the tavern with me.
"It's not The Vigil, but it's in surprisingly decent shape for being a home to bandits and brigands the last several years," she commented. "Nevermind having been assaulted by darkspawn before that, if the mayor is to be believed."
"I noticed that too," I agreed, taking note of the kegs in the racks. "And the ale stores are surprisingly well stocked as well."
"Pity we couldn't have recruited them as an independant mercenary company," Morgana lamented.
"Working with bandits never works out in the end," I disagreed. Having dealt with the savage Tal-Vashoth bandits in Seheron, I had a well justified dislike of those types of people.
"Normal bandit gangs, sure. But these guys were organized, professional. I suppose there's no use dwelling on it now. They could have just as easily have approached us, as we could have approached them, but now they're all dead or scattered to the four winds," Morgana replied. "They chose to die in obscurity rather than consider the possibly serving a higher purpose."
I was actually quite surprised by her response. Like everyone who'd ever heard of her, I had my own preconceived notions on what she'd be like. Especially as a Bas-Saarabas who had been declared Basalit-an by the Arishok just over a decade ago. I found her to be surprisingly practical, all things considered.
"Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am, but that almost sounded Qunari," I commented.
She merely sent a smirk. "Thank you." However, the expression didn't last long, as she let out a sigh.
"Something the matter?" I inquired.
"I hate being idle," Morgana replied. "As much as I hated the circumstances I was in at the time, I actually miss The Blight. There was always something to do back then."
I could relate. As much as I hated everything there was to hate about Seheron, it was always the downtime that was the worst. It was one thing to take a knife to the ribs when your blood was up and you were trying to kill the person knifing you. It was another to be sitting down after a hard day's work and taking a knife to the ribs when you're just trying to have a quiet moment to yourself. To this day, I still have a hard time relaxing, even if it was just me and the Chargers around.
"Speaking of The Blight... You're a real qunari."
"As opposed to the fake one running the Inquisition?" I snarked at her jokingly.
That was a mistake.
She leveled me with a glare that seemingly penetrated my very soul. "He is 'vashoth', you vashedan ass. I don't claim to be an expert on the Qun or the Qunari people, but I know more than most. When your Arishok declared me Basalit-an when he was but a Sten, I learned everything I could about his- your people. I am well aware of the difference, Sten."
'Well, Shit...' I thought in wide-eyed surprise.
For a tiny mage, she had a surprisingly commanding aura about her- something that her cousin lacked and Adaar was still developing. I have only the highest respect for the Inquisitor, how could I not? However, this tiny human woman could, at the very least, make me think about following her over him. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all that the Arishok followed the Hero of Fereldan around for a year, just another soldier for her cause, despite the fact that she was both a woman and a mage, on top of being a Bas. It says something when a decorated member of the Beresaad, the man who would become Arishok when that same Bas-Saarabas' kin would slay his predecessor, would go against everything he had ever known and learned through out his entire life to take up arms in the service to another.
Also, it had been a long time since I'd received a dressing down like that. Even Vivian's scolding of me and condescending gaze hadn't left me feeling so completely emasculated and this Bas-Saarabas was lacking both the heels and the horned hat that brought to mind the tamassrans whenever I talked to the First Enchanter. Hell, she wasn't even armed or armored.
I cleared my throat. "Err... Sorry, ma'am."
"Think nothing of it, Bull. Having worked with a Sten of the Beresaad during the Blight, I have nothing but the highest respect for your people. To be honest, it's a bit of a relief to me that you're a true Qunari, rather than a Tal-Vashoth mercenary, even if you are Ben Hassrath," Morgana replied, her mood seemingly doing an about face.
"Really? Not even the Boss was this accepting of me when I first told him," I told her.
"He's a Vashoth who grew up around Tal-Vashoth and other Vashoth like him. I doubt the stories he's heard about the Qunari are any more complimentary than the ones the rest of us get fed by the Chantry," she pointed out. "The only difference being, that his parents have the benefit of being the voices of expirience, having actually lived under the Qun and know what it's about and had ultimately rejected it."
"That's a pretty good point. But still, out of everyone I've ever told, the only other person to give me total acceptance right off the bat was Krem," I informed her.
Morgana merely shrugged. "Between being a Grey Warden and the prejudice I face as a mage, I try to take individuals as they are. You have yet to give me a reason to dislike or disrespect you. Until you do, I won't. Plus, other than that unpleasantness at The Vigil involving Dworkin, I have yet to be attacked by a real Qunari. As far as I know anyway. On the other hand, I've left behind trails of bodies of Tal-Vashoth in my travels."
"I gotta say, it's kinda weird talking to a Bas that actually knows and acknowledges the difference. Most people, even most Viddathari, would look at a Vashoth like the Inquisitor and call him Qunari," I admit.
"I owe too much to your Arishok not to. He was the first person to start teaching me how to use a sword," Morgana admitted in turn.
"I had wondered," I acknowledge. "Watching you kill those bandits when we first took the keep, I noticed a mix of Dalish, Qunari, and Templar influences in your style."
"A mix between having been taught by Alistair and Sten and the way I learned to how to become an Arcane Warrior," She informed me. "I wouldn't be surprised if you could spot similar influences in either Alistair's or the Arishok's own personal fighting styles if you ever saw them fight. The three of us, along with Oghren, a dwarven berserker, and Zevran, a former Antivan Crow, were constantly training each other in our various combat styles."
"I take it your Crow friend explains the flourishes in your style I couldn't identify," I openly speculate having never faced off against a member of the Antivan Crows. I've taken great pains over the years to not be important enough to be a target of either them or Orlais' House of Repose.
The Warden nodded her head. "I never did take well to Oghren's style. Despite his drunkeness, he is a remarkable warrior, but he's a horrible instructor. Anything Alistair and Sten got out of him was more due to their own skill in observing how he fought than any sort of ability he had to teach. Despite him becoming a Warden after The Blight, I had to call in Ash Warriors for anyone desiring training as a Berserker."
I let out a chuckle. "I used to be the same."
"Oh, what changed?" Morgana asked with great interest.
"I met Krem," I reply honestly. "A lot of things about me changed when I met him."
"Friends like that are hard to come by and last a lifetime, no matter what life throws at you. I think I'd like to meet him when we get to Skyhold," Morgana stated. She looked at me speculatively, as if taking my full measure. I didn't like it, but I did not turn away from her gaze. Given her expression of approval, I reckon I passed some sort of test. "I suppose your list is quite long."
"I don't follow, ma'am," I reply with genuine confusion.
"After the Blight was over and Nora had declared me 'The Hero of Fereldan' at her coronation as Queen, Sten had admitted that he didn't fully understand the title of 'Hero' and what it meant, but figured the closest Qunari equivalent was 'Qunoran Vehl'." I gave her a look of surprise as she continued on. "Not that I could ever be called such, given the whole, 'survived the Blight and slaying the Archdemon' thing, lest I become too prideful." We both shared a laugh at that. "We then made a mutual oath to each other that should the Qunari people invade, that we would not seek each other out on the battlefield." She then looked me straight in the eye with those entrancing blue eyes that saw so much more than I could ever imagine. "I imagine you have quite a long list of people you will not seek to kill in the event that you return to your people and invade us."
This time I did break her gaze. The topic was hitting far too close to home. Even worse, she knew it and, I suspect, she even knew why.
She changed the subject.
"You think Hector will allow us to slay the dragon?" she asked.
"Who?" I asked.
"Adaar," She replied with an eye roll.
"I think that's the first time I've ever heard his name out loud," I say thinking back. "Most people tend to call him 'Adaar', 'Inquisitor', or 'Herald'. Or in my case, 'Boss'."
Morgana sighed. "It's like he's not even a person."
"To most people, he's not," I say with a shrug. "I'd figure you of all people would know that better than anyone."
"We are more than our titles," She stated distastefully.
"You know that and I know that and I'm sure the Boss does too. But to the hundreds of soldiers, spies and diplomats out there working for the Inquisition... You two are a symbol, an ideal. The ones whose example the rest of us common folk have to live up to," I sagely reply.
"That's probably the one way the Qunari for sure have it easier than the rest of Thedas," Morgana says with a frown. At my questioning expression, she explains. "Like Heroes, Qunoran Vehl stand out as examples of how people should be. But the Heroes, the ones who survive passed their fated purpose... They have to live up to that example."
It was my turn to sigh. "We are far too sober for this conversation."
She looked at my speculatively. "We are in the tavern."
"The Seeker and Viv are gonna be pissed," I uncharacteristically feel the need to point out.
"We'd be too drunk to care," The Warden-Commander says in rebuttal as she walks around the bar and begins searching behind it.
"They're probably gonna make us regret it once we sober up," I state, feeling a sense of wrongness that I'm trying, though only half heartedly, to talk her out of getting us both completely and totally sloshed.
Morgana grins in triumph as she places two empty and surprisingly clean steins on the bar. "I'm game if you are."
"What the hell," I give in.