Chapter Eleven: Embrium Fields
The next morning actually wasn't awkward. With Sera, 'Morning Afters' had always been awkward, especially in the beginning, when it was usually like "oh, shit, did we get that drunk again last night?" and then not looking each other in the eye until a few days later.
Oh, yeah. Sera. Here's that story I've been promising:
Maryden's song talks about all the things Sera Was Never, and, to be honest, the song's funny because it's true, and the more you know her, the funnier the song is. But she also was a lot of things: fiercely loyal, kind, compassionate, giving, and an infuriating pain in the ass. We met shortly after I started working at the Chantry. She was 17, I was 22, and we'd both done a whole lot of living in those short years. When she was eight, her noble foster mother (aka "That Bitch") died, and she stayed at her estate until she was 12, when she ran away with the Jennies, firing the staff, and letting the estate go to ruin. Cookies were involved, and that's all I remember about her drunken rambling on the subject.
We met at a bonfire that a few friends of mine from the black market lyrium trade had invited me to. Someone at the party was the Jenny of Denerim, and so Sera, who'd been in town for Maker knows why, was there, getting snocked with the rest of us. And because Sera is Sera, two weeks later I found myself in the chicken coops of this wealthy farmer who wasn't paying his laborers, putting the chickens on one of our lyrium wagons on its way to South Reach. The job went tits-up, and Sera and I had to run three kilometers back into Denerim, ducking the City Guard and this guy's own security team, and we wound up taking refuge in an unlocked shed in the back of an empty house, alone, after dark, full of adrenaline, and I think everyone can guess how that night ended.
Neither of us are the playgirl type naturally, so the handful of times we saw each other when we had something serious going on with someone else, nothing happened, but things did happen often enough that whenever we were going to see each other, we sort of expected to wind up in bed together. She started staying with me at my folks' house whenever she was in Denerim, and my parents referred to her as my girlfriend. I didn't tell them otherwise.
But we weren't. There was friendly affection, but there was never the kind of emotional bond that you'd have with a real girlfriend. Maybe it was because we're so far apart in age, maybe it's because of the way we were brought up, but whatever it was that kept us together, it was not love. We were far too different. For instance, that whole pranking thing she has going on? I never saw the point. It was always so childish. If I'm going to hurt someone, I'm going to hurt someone, not that I hurt people often, but still. If not, why bother? So, we would argue about that. Then, when the humans in the Chantry would treat one of my elven co-workers like shit, I'd complain to her, and she would always, without fail, find something wrong with what the elf did that became the excuse for the shem. And oh boy did we argue about that. Now, an actual couple will argue, have hot make-up sex, and then be made up. Sera and I, on the other hand, would argue, have perfunctory still-mad-at-each-other sex, and then just be kind of annoyed with each other. But, to make a long story a little less long, she moved to Orlais full-time sometime in late 9:39 or early 9:40, and I only saw her once or twice afterwards. Until that day outside of Val Royeaux.
So that 'Morning After' with Lace, when we just got up, got dressed, and went about our day with no shyness, no weirdness, and no clinginess was almost as good a feeling as the sex the night before. Almost.
"That's a strange sort of pillow talk you have there, Nessa," Lace said as we were dashing through embrium fields. "Not many girls would regale me with the story of an on-again, off-again thing they've had with the same person over years."
"Yeah, well, I want to be honest, you know, as long as we're here totally not starting something."
Lace chuckled. "You're still on that, huh?"
"It's not as though last night was going to put me off the idea."
Lace's chuckle turned into full-on laughter, but we dropped the subject for a bit, both eventually falling asleep for the rest of the journey to Montfort.
This time around, the inn wasn't hopping anywhere near the way it was on the way north, but it was still nice. The innkeeper still comped our meals (Boeuf Bourguignon this time), and while there was no dancing, there was a talented minstrel singing old Orlesian ballads. We were able to secure enough rooms so that I had one by myself this time, which was probably for the best. Sure, my little crush on Scout Lieutenant Harding had turned into full-blown infatuation on this trip, but I also respected her need to keep it cool.
"I missed you last night," Lace said after we were back on the road the next morning.
"Come again?" I asked.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "Just leave it."
"No, I really want to know what you said. If you said what I think you said, I missed you, too."
Lace smiled softly, and I'm pretty sure she was blushing, although it was a little dark in the carriage to see.
"I thought you might knock on my door, so I had it all planned out how I was going to turn you away, and then when you didn't show up, I was kinda disappointed. Is that dumb? That sounds dumb when I'm saying it out loud. You know what – can you just forget the last three minutes of your life? Is that possible?"
I almost melted right there when she said that, but that wouldn't have helped anything, so I did my best to stay composed.
"I really do respect what you said the other day, Lace. This is your job as much as it is your community and your home, and you need to protect that."
"Thank you," Lace said in return. "That means so much, you have no idea." She took my hands and kissed the knuckles, then moved over to my side of the carriage and rested her head against my arm. We stayed that way, holding hands for the next several hours, dozing off, watching the Orlesian countryside. When the carriage stopped so the horses could get a breather and we could have a quick picnic lunch, she jumped off me like I was on fire and jumped back to her side, which we both chuckled at. She grabbed our packs off of the back of the carriage while we were stopped and brought them in, so we could touch up our makeup before we got to Val Royeaux.
The houses were starting to appear closer and closer together, signaling that we were on the outskirts of town, when Lace started to fidget. A lot. After a few minutes of this, I figured out why.
"Um…"
"Lace? Are you okay?"
"So, I've been thinking. This whole thing where you're giving me space? I'm, er, not sure it's working out so well."
"Oh," I replied, figuring I could hold in the emotions until we got to wherever we were staying that night.
"No – no, it's not like that at all," she corrected. "It's, um…"
She took a deep breath and continued with a speech she'd obviously been rehearsing in her head.
"My lady, er, my lady Herald, while it would be unwise to enter into a romantic entanglement at this time, if you wished to court me, I would welcome that very much."
I must have sat there with my mouth hanging open for longer than she was comfortable, because she seemed to get nervous shortly after saying that.
"Was that right? Did I do that right?" she asked.
"Lace, you're asking the wrong alienage trash about manners here."
"Nessa, I just asked the freaking Herald of Andraste if she would be willing to court me, so if you wouldn't mind quitting it with the self-deprecating bullshit and give me a proper answer, I'm kinda dying here?"
"Oh, shit. Maker – right. Um, Scout Lieutenant Harding, I would be honored very much to court you, my lady, if you would have me," I replied, trying very hard to stay serious while I, too, was kinda dying.
The smile that broke across Lace's face lit up the whole carriage. She grabbed my face and kissed me solidly on the lips before rummaging around in her pack.
"Believe it or not, there's not a whole lot of formal courting that goes on in the Hinterlands, either. But I've heard tokens are involved, and I knew this dwarf from the Free Marches who said that he gave her girlfriend a scarf to wear while she was courting him, so, here." Lace pulled out a red scarf and tied it twice around my right arm, just above the elbow. "Wear this and think about me when you're out there risking your life. Maybe it'll give you a little more incentive to not get dead, salroka."
"Thank you. I will," I said, and kissed her softly on the lips before leaning back in my seat with an airy smile. The scarf was a darker red, and just looked like a little ornamental pop of color over my regular drab brown duster armor. Lace and I knew what it was, and the fancier humans probably would, too, but it wasn't like I was wearing a sign that said 'this chick is courting someone' or anything.
We got back to the inn that we'd been using as our base of operations in Val Royeaux just as night was falling. Right after supper, two scouts met us in the tavern and pulled Lace aside. She came back to the table with a hardened look.
"I'm heading out tonight, Your Worship," she said. "Nightingale wants us to head to the Storm Coast, which is on the northwestern tip of Ferelden. I didn't catch exactly what the mission is, but it has something to do with Wardens. Charter and Rector know more, and they'll be coming with me."
"Very good, Harding," I replied. "How long do you have before you leave?"
"We're leaving now. Charter has my pack. I don't know how long I'll be gone." What momentary steely resolve I had left quickly.
"Be safe, lethallan," I whispered. Her stoic act was fading, too, and she sat back down with me.
"You be safe, too, salroka."
We must have stayed there staring into each other's eyes for a moment too long, because Charter came behind me and muttered in my ear, causing me nearly to jump out of my seat.
"If you're going to kiss your girlfriend, Your Worship, get on with it, so we can head out. We'll take good care of her, not to worry."
"So much for subtlety," Lace said with a laugh.
"Nightingale's got an opinion on the issue," Charter said, "but she's not daft enough to stand in your way. You've got one minute to make your goodbyes, Harding, then we're leaving without you."
I stood up and took her hands. "One kiss for luck?" I asked. She smiled softly and nodded, so I kissed her.
"I'll see if I can send some personal messages with the correspondence. If Nightingale already knows, she may not mind."
"I'd appreciate that," I replied. "But stay safe and don't compromise the mission, okay?"
"You're cute, Nessa, but not that cute. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'll see you when I get back." She gave me a quick kiss, and then ran off with Charter and the other scout to head for Ferelden. I took that as my cue to make an early night of it, as I'd be leaving with Captain Rylen's men in the morning.
We got an early – and I mean early – start, and I was starting to feel grateful that the Denerim guard didn't recruit elves. Rylen's men (and they were only mostly men) still looked very, very young, but it was obvious that they had done some drilling while Harding and I were away. Rylen set me up on a horse, and he was going to spend much of the trip getting me up to a level of horsemanship where I at least wouldn't have to walk everywhere. We were almost out of the gate when the corporal brought us all to a halt and called for me. Rylen helped me dismount, and we went to meet him up front. As we approached, a slender Elven mage addressed us in a subtle Orlesian accent.
"And this is the fabled Herald of Andraste?"
"That's what they tell me," I replied. "Who are you?"
"My name is Grand Enchanter Fiona, leader of the rebel mages. I have come to invite you to Redcliffe."
The banality of this request finally struck me as the Grand Enchanter and I were speaking. I went through the motions of listening to and accepting the invitation, doing my best to make my words and actions sound as official as the situation demanded, until I listened to myself negotiating the terms of our meeting as if it were something I did every day. This was not me. She needed to speak with Cassandra or Josephine or someone, but certainly not some chantry maid with a glowing hand. I began to feel rather small and rather silly, as if this whole "Herald" thing were some fancy dress I was wearing but would inevitably have to return. I removed myself from the situation by telling Fiona that if she wanted to set something up more formally, she should send a missive to our ambassador, and they would handle it through the proper channels.
We rode out of town with me in a daze. After about a half-hour, I stopped the horse and scrabbled down to the ground, asking someone who looked like she knew what she was doing to walk it the rest of the way. I fell in line behind the soldiers, not even sure I belonged there, having never actually been a soldier. Rylen called the group to a stop and told the men to take a breather while he pulled me aside.
"Begging your pardon, Your Worship," he said in that very stilted Free Marcher accent of his.
"Please don't call me that, Captain," I answered.
"I said, 'begging your pardon, Your Worship,'" he insisted, "but the men need to see you up on that horse."
I looked down at my shoes and began to trace patterns in the dust of the road with my toes. All of a sudden it was my first day at the Chantry again, and there I was, watching the Mothers at their evening prayers, knowing there was something I absolutely had to be doing, and knowing that even if I did know what that was, there was no way in heaven, earth, sea or sky, that I would know how to do it.
"Your Worship," Rylen pressed. "I won't bore you with my humble upbringings in Starkhaven, but I'll tell you the same thing I tell every new lieutenant that's worked for me who looks the way you do now. You wouldn't be where you are if people didn't believe you could do it, and the people who believe you can do it are these men and women right here. Now, I don't know all that went on up at that fancy party – that's a bit above my paygrade. But you're still the Herald of Andraste, and that makes this group as much your men as mine, maybe more so. And they need to see their Herald up on that horse. And, frankly, so do I.
"This may seem like it's all about you, Your Worship. And in many ways, it is. But this is also so much bigger than any of us, yourself included. So, please. Even if it feels wrong, get back up there and let the men see their Herald."
Still in my snit, I huffed, but walked over to the horse, and Rylen helped me climb back up, and we were on our way.
"You give that pep-talk often, Captain Rylen?" I asked as the men were falling back into formation.
"I've given it a few times. Only rarely to folks who outrank me, though."
"Really?" I laughed. "I'm not the first?"
"No, ma'am. In fact, the last person I gave that talk to was Cullen after he was named Knight Commander of Kirkwall following the Mage Rebellion there. He might be someone to talk to, as a matter of fact."
Having a heart-to-heart with Cullen wasn't exactly at the top of my to-do list, but I did appreciate the sentiment, and I expressed that to Captain Rylen."
"Any time. And believe me when I tell you honestly that it's an honor to serve you, Your Worship."
Oh. Great…
