Uthreida stepped outside of the castle as Wuunferth warned her not to go too far. Teldryn chucked at the feeble attempt. The mage only waggled a finger at the dark elf. "Keep her safe."

Uthreida waived it off. "I'm sure the guards will be sufficient, Wuunferth." She spoke softly. He placed a protective hand to her swollen middle as her cloak opened at the protrusion. "You suggested I walk and relax more. I just need some fresh air." She turned away from the castle and stared to walk the upper rings of Windhelm. Her Thane at her side. Teldryn would make passing comments, making sure try weren't going to walk the grey quarter with her half legion of guards. She smiled at his hyperbole but shook her head. "I'm sure Ulfric would have something to argue about that."

He scoffed. "He already argues as to why a Dunmer is the chosen Thane of the queen."

She smiled, looking him over. "Best sword in all of Marrowind, aye?"

"Oh please. We all know what you're doing. Parading a Dunmer on your arm as you negotiate trade and citizenship with-"

"Well, shush." He looked at her but she couldn't see his expressions from his chitlin helmet and face covering. And his continuous bitching about the cold. "How is Erik in his training?"

The dunmer sucked his teeth. "He's eager."

She laughed softly at the late winter winds. "But?"

He shook his head. "He's hard to learn."

"That is a shame."

"Like every other Nord, he refuses to use magic with its best for him."

"We are a stubborn lot." She chided back.

"Your lips to Azura's ears."

They walked the path that lead to the market. Her smile wondered as she looked at the food stalls. More food than she had seen in previous years. Her annual ride around the country to help aid in the rain has proved beneficial to the farmers. The citizens bowed as she passed. She looked up to see a blonde man leaning against the wall. Red fur over his shoulders. Her heart stopped as she took him in. Valok?

She blinked and the red fur became auburn from the mammoth. His carved Nordic armor still held the sigil of the bear.

She lowered her eyes as she walked. Her hand went instinctively to the coin at her chest. She sent a prayer to any god that would listen to keep Cullen safe.

They had made a quick tour of the city when she noticed an odd-looking ship off the docks. "Whose ship is that?"

Teldryn followed her eyes. "I don't know." His voice was just as intrigued as she was. "I'll find out." He stepped behind her. "Hey, you." He shouted a guard that was following them. She chuckled at his delegation.

He returned to her side. Tilting his head as he looked at the ship and she found herself walking closer to it to look. A crowd was keeping their distance as they offloaded. Uthreida kept her distance from the ship and the people who were gawking. Watching the pale human men offload crates. But she looked at the ship. It wasn't a warship but it also wasn't a transport ship. It held a double sail with a double or even triple deck on the rear.

Teldryn stepped off as the Soldier returned. "He says the port master was unable to get a name but docking was paid in gold. Though, the gold wasn't imperial. And apparently made a huge show when they had to pay the minimum."

She looked him over with a skeptical look. "How did they pay?"

He paused. "In gold."

"No, I mean" she sighed. "No name of the ship or captain?" He shrugged. She made an annoyed face and looked at the ship again. The winds shifted and a flitter on the aft caught her attention. A flag. Two red creatures reared with a yellow and white jacquard field.

She felt a smile cross her features. By Julionos. "I know this ship." She whispered to Teldryn who had to pick up his pace to keep up with her as she approached.

"Majesty." He warned softly.

She stood before a deckhand who dropped a crate. "I'd like to speak to your captain, please."

The man stood slowly, looking her over. He ran the back of his hand over his face to wipe off the sweat. A look of confusion crossed his features. A few of the other deckhands looked at her in the same confusion. "You…speak our language?"

Uthreida smiled. "I do. Your Captain, please." She ignored the look that she could feel from Teldryn. The men gave a nod and walked back to the ship. Teldryn stepped to her side and whispered "Is this wise?"

"Of course."

"Let me rephrase that." His tone was clipped and sharp. 'That was stupid, this is stupid. You need to leave."

"Nonsense."

He grunted. "We don't know who these people are with a currency we've never seen before."

"Let me guess. Iconography of a woman on one side and a dog on the other?"

He paused and pulled his head back from her. "Yea." She smiled. "How did you-"

"Shh" she looked over to see a portly man walk off the gangplank in thick furs and thin boots. "I think that's the Captain." The man approached with a thick woolen hat that hung off to one side. He looked her over and rolled his eyes.

"My men say you wanted to speak to me."

"Aye. Where do you hail from?"

The captain's brows lowered as he looked at her. "Ferelden, mlady."

She smirked. Alistair made good on his word. "Where is Ferelden?"

His look of skepticism didn't abate. "Southwest, mlady. If I may ask, how is it you speak out language?"

"What have you brought to trade?"

He looked at the crates and puffed his cheeks. "Furs, ore-"

"Bloodstones? Silverite? Scotch?"

His look of confusion returned again. "Who are you?"

"A very invested partner."

Teldryn looked between her and the Captain. "So, you going to explain how you're having a one-sided conversation, that he apparently understands, with this foreign captain?"

Uthreida smiled as she looked at the Captain. "Word of the wise, bring an Avvar with you on your next trip. It might help ease communications. And a healing mage."

"Of course, lady." He added slowly as he looked her over from the others. "Forgive me, but to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

She smiled at the man. "The Queen of Skyrim."

XxXx

Cullen smirked as he cinched his bag. Seeing Royoc enter the room, with no hands. And announce the Inquisition was to disband after his countless hours of closing rifts. Actually being a good, honorable man. His scathing eyes as he looked at Cullen and completed to move out every time a new rift was discovered for the last two years. Certainly made meetings more fun when he would rant. Cullen would casually mention a rift in some far-flung area and he would pace the floor before being pulled subconsciously to start packing and ride out. He smirked, thinking of Uthreida. And how she made the Inquisition a place of true succor for the people even if she didn't know it.

He placed his bag by the door and started to prepare his armor for the ride tomorrow. The armor she made. His armor. His fingertips trailing over the lions' teeth of the pauldrons.

The knock on the door forced him to turn. Tattoo sat up on the bed. His ears alerted at the noise. A low cautious growl from the mabari. Dorian and Varric entered without a welcome. Dorian held his hands high with tankers in both. A wide smile on his face. "Command-well, Cullen," Varric smirked into his own tankard behind him. "Or will it be Templar now?"

Cullen smirked at the mage. "To be honest, I'm not sure what it will be. Titles, that is." Dorian passed him the extra tankard and stood before the bed where Tattoo was panting as he looked at the mage. "Are dogs typically allowed on the bed?"

Cullen smiled. "I'm Ferelden."

"Oh, of course. My mistake." He held his hand out." "Does he bite?"

Cullen shot the dog an annoyed brow that he missed sniffing the mage's hand. "Annoyingly, no."

Dorian petted the dog's head whose docked tail vigorously wagged and shook the rear of the creature. Dorian plopped on the borrowed bed. "So, Inquisition is no more it seems."

"So it seems."

"And Solas has returned. A god. Most interesting." Cullen arched a brow and sipped at the ale. "And the Qunari are planning another invasion."

Cullen rested his hip on the dresser. "I was curious why Bull, of all of you, stayed behind these last few years. But I guess we should mourn his passing?" He gave a pained look to the others who didn't share the sentiment. He drank from his tankard alone.

Varric gave a chuckle. "I'll admit, watching Royoc trying to convince us to help him with the Eluvans was hysterical. Especially Sera."

Dorian guffawed. "Sounds like foppish problems, innit." Dorian did his best to mimic her accent. "Sounds like you and the Royal pounces aught to go, yea."

"And Blackwall choking on his drink." The two gave a laugh as Cullen remained silent. Viscount Varric sighed and raised his tankard to magistrate Dorian. "Team foppish ponce."

"Ponce." Dorian clanked their tankard and drank. "What will you do Cullen?"

"Me?" He looked into the tankard and smirked.

"Well, with the military Inquisition no more, the military advisor is no longer necessary, yes? So, what's your plan? Or is the plan to leave it to Andraste? To let her guide your feet to…" he waved a whimsical hand but paused, "probably mercenary work. Or" he said more excited, "I heard that Gaspard has reached out to you to command some of his troops. Is it true? Imagine, General Cullen Rutherford." He gave a grandesous wave as if reading a banner.

Cullen smiled into his tankard. "Actually, I've been thinking. I'd like to start a recovery program for Templars. With Circles now disbanded, and Templars no longer required, thusly, slowed to nonexistent lyrium trade, there are those who need a safe place to undergo their withdrawals. I'd like to help them. Ease them." He smiled at them. "Liliana has offered land. I can use it as recovery and work for ex Templars."

Varric stepped forward. "Let's skip to the point, shall we."

"Ugh, Varric." Dorian whined. "Since putting on that crown, you're absolutely not fun." Dorian waved his tankard from the bed.

"Now now." He held his hands up to calm the mage. "It's a good question to ask." He looked at Cullen and sighed. "Look, Curly, even you gotta admit," he shrugged at the Commander. Cullen arched an amused brow at him. "She was right. About all of it." Cullen lowered his brows at who he was referring to. Varric raised his brows and bit his lips to show a name that dare not be uttered. Cullen looked away. It was still too raw. "The red lyrium. Titans. Solas's return. There's no way she could've known about that. Unless she knew about that. And she did kinda leave the retrieval mission to you."

Cullen lowered his brows. "What are you getting at?"

"Well," he danced around the issue, "that maybe, she's not crazy. And that maybe," he took a deep breath at him, "it's time to call her back." Cullen drained his tankard and set it on the dresser. "She requested a few years. To build an army and-"

"Enough." Cullen snapped. He realized that he was yelling in anger and had to hold his tongue. He tried to center himself. The other two men were silent. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Varric cleared his throat. "Well, I know an admiral that owes me a favor or two"

"Makers breath, of you're referring to who I think you are-"

"She's the best-"

"Just…no."

Dorian stood quickly. "You know that Royoc is moving under secretary to Tevinter. This war will come to Mintheos. between the Qun, Solas, and Venatori splinter cells, my people will be in danger."

"That's really nothing new," Cullen stated dryly.

"You know what Solas plans." The mage approached him in anger. "To tear apart the world. To sunder the vail. The man's practically an intelligent Corypheus. And you'll leave my people to suffer so you can hide? When you alone have the capabilities to get the asset to help them?"

Cullen's eyes closed and he tilted his head. Visions of the Thalmor tactics in the past as they took the Illic bay. Placement into the right ranks of the Cryodiil. The won battles of Elsewhere and Valenwood. He shook his head. Forcing the memories of places he's never seen out of his mind. He swallowed back the fear that came with such memories. "It's not that simple."

"Is it? What good are the southern Templars when the world shatters?"

"There are no more southern Templars." All eyes turned to the sound of a low growl as Tattoo stood on the bed. Licking his nose as he watched the tempers flare. Cullen held a hand out to the dog to calm down. Tattoo licked his nose again and jumped from the bed to stand beside him. Cullen scratched behind his ears and ordered the dog to sit. He did so, but only if Cullen kept scratching.

"What I think Sparkles is trying to say," Varric added calmly, "is that" he sighed. "Solas thinks he's a god. And history has shown that he is. We need someone who can match him. Someone who can turn into a dragon?"

"Again," Cullen stated bluntly, "I don't know where to start. Now," he pushed himself off the dresser and opened the door, the clipping of nails as Tattoo followed him, "if you'll excuse me, I must see to the dissolution of the actual Inquisition assets." He waved a hand for them to exit.

Dorian shook his head at Cullen and exited in his usual Aires. Varric sighed and allowed the conversation to end. "Think you got a letter," Varric said as he walked down the hall.

Cullen looked out to see a soldier approach with a parchment in his hands. The armor wasn't Inquisition, but Ferelden. The Soldier looked him over. "Commander Cullen?"

"Yes?"

He held the parchment out for Cullen. He looked between the soldier and the letter. Taking it slowly. The soldier gave a salute and walked back from where he came. Cullen closed the door and broke the seal.

Commander Cullen,

The Inquisition has been disbanded. Terrible business. Onto better. Red Cock Tavern. Tonight. Come alone. Don't be late.

Alistair

Cullen looked the letter over and scoffed. That was fast. He's practically been dismissed for two days. Can't wait to hear what his Majesty has to say. He looked over at Tattoo that was panting again just sitting down. Cullen smirked. "You're not a person, are you?" The dog's head tilted and ceased panting as if affronted at the accusation. "Want to meet a king?" Tattoo barked twice to agree.

He pulled the armor from the stand and got to work. Better figure out where this tavern is.

Two hours later and thoroughly lost, he was able to find the tavern in a homely part of Lydes. Here's hoping Tattoo had some use as a scent hound. He entered the tavern that was in full swing of the evening.

That doesn't bode well. No one will hear a fight if it came to it. Worse, why is the king here and not at the palace?

He went to the barkeep to ask if his 'friend he was meeting'. The barkeep only arched an brow and spoke Orlesian. Cullen grunted and ordered an ale and a bowl of water to pass the time.

He sat as close to the corner as he could while the people ate, drank, danced, and laughed at the night. He would pet Tattoo on the scruff to keep the hound calm. He was halfway through his tankard when a female in heavy armor approached with another tankard. Her short dark hair and friendly smile was off-putting as she slid into the chair next to him. Smiling at the dog before him. "Cullen, I presume? I assume become you're the only one here not having a good time. And the mabari as a dead giveaway."

"You are?" He asked annoyed.

"Captain Mercia. Of the kings' guard."

Cullen blinked slowly. She sat silently as if waiting for him to recognize the name. "Well?" He waved a hand at her to escort him to wherever he was supposed to meet the king.

She finished her drink and stood. Cullen and Tattoo followed her to the back and down to the basement. Red flags rose in his gut but he wasn't exactly in a position to fight it. He rested his wrist on his pommel and ready to draw his shield.

Mercia turned and opened a door for him to enter. Tattoo barreled in first. Cullen watched her and peered into the room. It was well lit and had a single bed on display. That Tattoo claimed as his own. He entered and the door shut behind him. He turned and saw four more Soldiers lining the wall of the room. Each wearing the same matching heavy armor of Mercia. Each looking at him like he shouldn't be there. But none moved.

Footsteps across the room made him see a door that created adjoined rooms. The door opened and King Alistair was reading a report while eating a leg of something. He took a bite and looked up to see Cullen. Alistair smiled and approached. "Commander." The sound of Tattoos nails clipping on the stone made him turn. "And friend." He chuckled. "I always forget to add including dogs on my requests. My oversight. Apologies."

Cullen bowed low. "Your Highness."

"You alone?" He asked lowly, but his playful smirk showed it was more theatrical than anything. Smiling at Tattoo either way.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Good. Don't have to worry about this information getting back to the Inquisition."

Tattoo sniffed at Alistair who pulled his food away from the dog. Tattoo started to whimper and Cullen physically snapped at get him to stop begging. "It's alright." Alistair pulled from meat from the bone and placed it on his open palm.

"You don't," Tattoo sniffed the food before gently taking it from his hand and inhaling it.

"Cute dog."

Cullen sighed in disappointment. "Thanks."

"If I had to guess, he's crossed with the Orlesian mastiff." He patted Tattoo on the head. "Blue markings and all."

"Not exactly a pure bread, your majesty."

"Oh, I know. I haven't been in the kennels in a while. I'm not allowed in there you know. The pups always seem to imprint on me. Went through three whelping's before we figured that out. Not that I'm complaining. Please take a seat."

Cullen pulled the chair out and waited on his speech as to why he was there. Tattoo laid down at his foot. Not the best guard dog, but his dog.

"Right." Alistair placed his handfuls on a plate and sat with him. "Don't have a lot of time. Let's be honest. You no longer have a job. I have an opening. Negotiations will start at Tyern of Gwaren."

Cullen forgot how to breathe in shock. Tyern. Of Gwaren. Tyern? The second-highest position in Ferelden. As a start of negotiations. "Beg your pardon?"

"Tyern of Gwaren. The more questions you ask the less ranking you get."

He scoffed. "Not much of a negotiation, is it?"

"Arl." Alistair said with a smile showing the decline already. "Your Inquisition seems to like Amaranthine."

"Wait" Cullen rubbed his face. "You're offering me Tyern. The second-highest position, to a common blood citizen?"

"Well, you're already knighted so it saves the hassle."

"By the Divine that I-"He took a deep breath in frustration. Knighted by the Divine that he was no longer a member of an order to. He held a hand to his brow. "Your majesty, I" he clenched his jaw. "I know what you're planning. You're not the first to approach me in the hopes of gaining the Templars and Inquisition forces into your army."

Alistair blinked slowly. "And?"

Cullen sighed. "You know they'll follow me."

"And?" Cullen had to roll his eyes. "Look, you and I both know how well trained Templars are. How necessary they are. And if left to their own devices" Altair gave a huff of concerned warning. "Your men know how to live and operate in the field. I still have trade with Orzommar and can assist in keeping them from going completely unstable. All I ask is that the citizens of Ferelden that wish to continue their military service or career in the Ferelden army be welcomed with a promotion in grade." He waived a welcoming hand.

Cullen only arched an annoyed brow. "You want to increase your standing army?"

"Well, with the threat of a Qunari invasion in the rise, it might be wise to take where you can. That said, as a Ferelden citizen, you are authorized to hold title in our land. And I can think of no better position than this generation's best commander. You will be acting as a personal military advisor on my war council with a promotion to general. Stipulation of course being your blood can not be in line for the throne for the next three generations."

Cullen lowered his brows. "You want me to be your personal military advisor?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

Alistair chuckled. "To be quite frank, the old salts are, well, getting old. And I need your men. So." He shrugged. "Besides, let's face it, you're not going to get this deal anywhere else. You are a citizen of Ferelden. You can't exactly go to Antiva and expect the same position with the same level of trust now can you? And I have a running theory you won't go willing back to the Free Marches. And if you're a proper Ferelden, you'll avoid Orlais like it was the blight."

Cullen chuckled. "I don't know. I've been offered two thousand acres and a bride."

Alistair folded his hands and leaned forward. "To do…what? Be a prize for Gaspard as you aim his troops, your soldiers that you're refusing to release back to their own homes, at Ferelden or Nevarr? To be the Ferelden novelty in an Orlesian war room? A constant reminder of what his little empire once was? To be paraded as the Ferelden turncoat. Arguing that brand on you until the end of your service? No. I would t wish that fate on my worst enemy. And I've seen the archdemon." The king leaned back in his chair. "I'll be honest, the inquisitor's methods were questionable at best. But my generals have reviewed what you have accomplished and they agree. Which is phenomenal in its own right. Your methods while working as the commander of the Inquisition shows significant tactical genius and impressive logistical forethought. The fact you were able to seize Adamant in two days is impressive." Cullen looked away, knowing it was all Uthreida's doing. "The fact you were able to move men from eastern Ferelden to Western Orlais in sixty days, is impressive." Mostly due to the hidden paths found by the Avvar. "From what I read, the way your men move in the field shows a level of supreme discipline. I heard how your men took out four red Templar encampments simultaneously to prevent information leaks. That level of coordination and communication with your troops is impress-I have no other words to describe other than impressed. You have gone from, oh, what did General Dylan say? To go from small team tactics that would be assumed with Templars, to national movements across Orlais with efficiency shows a level of fluidity that we were not expecting. And in all cases, your supply lines were, for the most part, on time. Again, impressive. Even during a time of war."

Cullen had to stop. His mind reared back to what the title and implications were. Out of no where, a memory hit him and he had to laugh. Wiping a hand across his face at the ridiculous methods of the Maker. He looked up to see Alistair lean back in his chair. "My apologies, my liege. I'm reminded of a conversation I had with warden Loghain Mac Teir." The king's expression turned serious. "After our first conversation, Reviewing all the good and bad he did to Ferelden, I asked the Maker if that was the path I was destined to walk. Forgive me, it's somewhat surreal to be in this position now." Alistair's eyes flicked to the guards behind Cullen. "That said," he paused, realizing what he was about to do and how much of a fool he was. But he stopped. He looked at the king and lowered a brow. Alistair was concerned about building his own army meaning he won't assist the Inquisition with Solas or the Qun. But instead wanted Cullen to help fortify the country to prepare for their invasions. That Dorian is about to face. And he wondered.

No, it was too much to hope. No word, no whisper of her.

Cullen stood slowly from the table. "I must decline."

Alistair scoffed. "Are you serious?" He asked standing with him. "I offer the entire force of Ferelden's might, the highest seat I can offer at my table, based purely on credit and competency, and you refuse?"

Cullen lowered his brows. "The war that is brewing, you cannot hide from, your majesty. It will come to Ferelden. And fortifying will only delay the inevitable. And by that time, it's too late. They have already entered, your highness. And because of that, I cannot, under good conscience, do nothing when I would be in a position where I have the full night of Ferelden, as you claim. I would walk in Loghains path to bring an end to the war. I am sorry, king. But I cannot accept only to be hung for treason while war plagues." He bowed to the king and turned.

Alistair sighed. "Alright." He said defeated. "I got one last ace." Cullen turned to look at him. Alistair stood to his full height and smirked. He reached into his pocket. "I need your help."

Alistair flicked a coin to Cullen. He caught it on his chest. He looked at his hand and saw the face of Talos looking back at him. The side profile made the war hammer of Talos at his heart, burn against his chest. He flipped it over to see the dragon in the shape of the red diamond. Cullen looked at Alistair with wide eyes of confusion as understanding slowly came to him. "I can't promise you a bride, but, I leave in a few months. Want to tag along? I need someone who understands them, personally. And you're the best I've got."

Cullen took shallow breaths at the implications. She promised an army. To beat Solas back. She knew of things they didn't. She could-

Cullen looked at the king and clenched the coin in his hand. "You have an ace, and I have stipulations."

Alistair smirked. "Of course. Be in Denerim in six months. We can discuss your stipulations then. Two-month voyage. Do be prepared."

Xxxx

A/N: fucking whew! Out of my head! Thank you Dibella. This thing has been in my head for like 4 years and I'm just excited to get rid of it. But ah, so many questions. Even I have questions. So, ah…the problem is I can't really do anything until DA4 is released so…my bad. As you can surmise, there is to be a part 2, but I sorta need the game. And even then, it probably won't even be that game-heavy. But still need parts and…sighs.

Anyways. A fun little excerpt that you can look forward to in the next interaction. Enjoy.

Xx

Cullen leaned over the side of the boat. Vomiting. Again. Two months at sea, you'd think he'd learn to overcome his stomach by now. But no.

He wiped the sweat from his face even in the cold winds of the. What's it called? Sea of ghosts?

A hand patted him in the back. He looked over to see King Alistair smiling painfully at him. "Rough day, rough sea, rough stomach huh?"

He would love to use the excise that Fereldens aren't made for the sea, but Alistair seemed to be just fine after a few weeks. So he grunted.

Alistair chuckled. "I'm scared for you, Tyern. You've lost so much weight on this voyage." Cullen grunted again. "You alright?"

The boat shifted again and his stomach lifted into his throat. He suppressed the vomit and burped. Tattoo whined next to him. Rubbing his face into Cullen's leg. "I-majesty, I live here now. I'm not doing this again."

Alistair laughed but Cullen looked at him like he missed the joke. "Well, good news. You see that bit of land right there?" He pointed off into the horizon. "That's our port. We should be in Windhelm in about an hour. So, pack your bags so we can kiss the fort that much faster."

"Done." Cullen snorted back the vomit in his sinuses and spat it over the railing. Held his torso as the boat jumped again. He found his rack, his bag, shoved what remained into it, and went back on deck to avoid the claustrophobia of the cabin.

He sat useless as the sailors moored the lines to dock. Forcing himself to not run when the gangplank was resting on the dock.

Alistair smiled and rubbed Greg's flanks. The pure breed mabari gave a happy bark and nudged Tattoo who nudged him back. Tattoo mimicking the bark. The dogs just as excited for land.

The two ran off as the plank was secured causing Cullen to call after them.

"Calm down. I'm sure they'll be alright. Come on. I think-" a woman's scream made both of them look with a pained expression. "That's your dog."

Cullen shot the king an annoyed look and walked down the plank. He gave two quick whistles for Tattoo to return. Tattoo returned giddily where Greg seemed interested in sniffing something.

"Oi." Alistair called and Greg picked something up and returned. With a cooked bird in his mouth.

Cullen looked at Alistair with a smirk. "That's your dog." A smug grin across his face.

Alistair patted the tan pure bread sarcastically. "Good boy." Who barked, dropped the bird, picked it up, and barked again. Not the smartest.

Tattoo lunged for a leg and the dogs growled at one another. Cullen pulled Tattoo by the collar as a woman came up to them screaming. Cullen looked at her and had to double-take. The…woman…was yelling but she…had gray fur on her face…and weird ears protruding from the top of her hood and a swishing tail. Cullen looked at Alistair to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Too much time at sea. She was pointing at Greg and shouting in a different language with very large teeth and eyes like a cat. And whiskers. Oh, Maker. That's a cat. A cat…person. Thing. Alistair looked at him with the same level of confusion. "I think she's mad about the bird?"

"Do we give her money?"

"I-" Cullen scoffed in confusion and the woman only growled like a loud purr. "I have no idea. I guess?"

She pointed again to Greg. "Okay." Alistair reached for his pouch. "Ma'am. Maam? Maam. Uh," she opened her hand to show claws and padded fingers like a cat. But given her face…expression…appeared the angered. "Bird? Do you want the bird? I can get you the bird." Alistair popped Greg on the head and retrieved the bird. He handed it back to her. "Here's the bird." She snacked the carcass and stamped off. Her tail still swishing as she walked. "Ma'am? Ma'am. Kitty? Ma'am" she kept walking as Alistair tried to catch her attention.

Alistair looked at Cullen and both started laughing. "The fuck was that?"

Cullen doubled over laughing. "No idea. I'm literally, straight off the boat."

They both looked over to see cat women speaking to a portly human who had offered some coins. The cat shoved the bird into his chest and kept walking. They both chuckled as they looked at the man. Who looked at them. Another more muscular man in furs was chuckling behind him.

"Oh, that's ah. Yea." Alistair cleared his throat and stood taller. The shorter, wider man approached and bowed. "King Alistair."

"Bann Francis. A delight. And this is-" Alistair lowered his brows to the other man in furs. Cullen instantly recognized the paint and furs as an Avvaar. His dark hair was pulled back in a multiple braided bun and his beard was braided down the middle with little beads off his long mustache. His dark eyes camouflaged by dark paint.

"Ah," The Bann turned and held up a hand. "This is Arved. My translator."

Arved bowed quickly. "Pleasure to meet you, King."

"Pleasure. Real quick, what was that?" Alistair pointed to the woman who was out of sight.

The Avvar laughed. "Khajit. They are the cat folk from the south."

Cullen and Alistair both lowered their brows. "What?"

"There's lizardfolk too."

Alistair and Cullen shared a look of utter confusion. "Uhh,"

"And a handful of different-looking elves as well."

Their confusion did not abate. Both held their breaths in utter misunderstanding.

"Come, your majesty." The Bann started quickly to change the subject, "the Royal house has secured lodgings. Shall we?"

"Right," Alistair said slowly while looking at Cullen. "Right. Did you know-" he waved a hand to the cat and the port.

Cullen lowered a brow at his king. It should've been in at least one report. "You didn't?"

Alistair looked at The Bann with wide eyes of anger. "No. I did not. Nothing in my reports prepared me for this."

The Bann dropped his eyes quickly. "Forgive me, majesty."

Alistair shook his head at the man's forlorn tone as The sound of armor behind them caught their attention. Captain Mercia stood behind them with her hand on her weapon. "Majesty." Her maternal tone of a warning made Alistair dip his own head. "You're a foreign king in a foreign land. Can you please not run off the boat without an escort?"

"Apologies." He stated with a childish smile of mundane edicts class. The Captain of the king's guard sighed as if she was bored of the king's eccentricities. The king turned back to the Bann. "Shall we?"

The Bann opened his hand to the city and bowed. Cullen took a deep breath. This is going to be a long trip.