The Bastard and The Bard
Summery: Meeting the King and recruiting a slew of interesting characters leaves the party with little free time on their hands.
Dune and Cassandra find common ground, Varric and Blackwall meet some new friends and Leliana questions her life choices.
Leliana dismissed Scout Harding after receiving the dwarf's report, the young woman had scampered off quickly as she had very little time to finish making final preparations. Especially now with the need to secure extra potions in order to heal the wounded Herald. The Sister scowled, if Varric had not been so reckless they would not be in this mess. All he had to do was keep his head down and talk the party's way out of trouble, not into it.
She sighed and shook out her arm, the limb always ached whenever the temperature changed and her race to Ferelden's capital had not given her even the slightest amount of time to adjust to the now humid air. She rubbed circles into her palm and glanced out the window, the sun still hung high above the city and there would be quite a few candle marks yet before the meeting. Maybe, she had enough time. She shook her head, such ideas were foolish. No one knew that she was in this city, why ruin the blessed anonymity. Though the Inquisition was young and although she and Cassandra were wanted for supposed heresy that did not mean that everyone was aware of who exactly she was. She had worked for years keeping her own name hidden, only being addressed as Leliana by the Divine or Cassandra. What was the point of hiding if she was not able to capitalize? The Sister pushed herself back from her desk, she made her way over to her room's hidden entrance and pressed her ear to it. Her hearing may have not been anywhere near as good as her wife's, but it was still quite sharp. No sounds came from the hall and most of her scouts would not have direct contact with her for a while, she had time.
Dune was bored. She had been banished back to the Blacksmith's cart after being thrown from her shitty horse and tearing her stitches. It took Cassandra almost an entire candle mark to clean up her wounds and make sense of the tear. Both of them had agreed that the experience was not one that they desired to repeat and now there she was. Alone in a wagon filled with un-smelted ore and nothing to do. She flopped back against her pack, fully intent on killing time by sleeping, only to grunt when her head came into contact with something hard.
Frustrated the elf shoved her hand into the satchel and ripped a tome from it's depths, a tome that she did not recognize nor remember packing. Embroidered flowers curled around the book's spine and everything from the cover to the pages looked well worn.
"What the..." she sat up and rubbed the back of her head before dragging the bag around to dig through. Though she did not find her journal or charcoal, nor her feathers, leather strips, oil and hunting knife. Instead, Dune retrieved a handful of parchment paper a vial of ink and quill along with five relatively large books. "This... this ain't my pack..." She inspected the flowery tome and recognized it as one of the old manuscripts that Cassandra was always reading. Assuming the text to be something martial and having nothing better to do she flipped it open. "'Tales of the Broken Hearted', is... is Cass reading romance? No that ain't right..." Dune closed the book, "She probably wouldn't be too happy with me going through her tomes.." The elf didn't move, the book stayed in her grip, "I'll just read a chapter, maybe... maybe it'll come in handy..." She opened the text once more and quickly found a ledger, she chose a story and settled in, Dune's intention was never to get lost within the pages.
The Seeker found the rest of the trip to Denerim tedious at best, without Dune to distract Varric the two had fallen into an awkward silence that quickly grew to be too much for the rogue. He started with a one-sided conversation about Prince Sebastian which rapidly disintegrated into her being cursed out for interrogating him. The headache she had and the embarrassment from her verbal beating was almost enough to make her leave the Storyteller and go keep the Herald company. Almost.
They had finally arrived at the turning off point, the rest of Tel'Din'Dia would be looking for a clearing to set up shop. One far enough away from the city proper that none of the Caravan would have to pay merchant taxes. Yet close enough that the townsfolk would have no problem with visiting the travelling market. The rest of their trek would be made on foot as the steads currently being ridden were borrowed. Cassandra had left her skinny stallion with Varric as he went off to return the horses to Lady Lelen, both were more than great full to be away from the other, and made her way to the Herald's cart. The Importer's wagon was about midway through the train and the small hike gave her time to think, she had done what was required in order to learn about the Champion. The world had been in crisis, by the Maker, it still was. They needed a leader, someone who had not fought for power. Someone who would be unbiased in helping fix the massive cataclysm that was the Mage-Templar War. Hawke had been perfect, why could Varric not see that? As for the interrogation itself, she had not laid a hand on him, well, that was only technically true. She had thrown a book at his face and broken his nose.
The Seeker huffed as her cheeks flushed once more, her temper had always been a problem and now here she was. Working with a man in which she attacked without precedence. Maybe the Chancellor had been right, maybe she was nothing but a thug. She shook her head, such thoughts would accomplish nothing they had a job to do after all. She knocked on the side of Dune's cart and lent against it, waiting for the elf to come scampering out. She figured that the other woman had already heard her arrive, but knocked out of courtesy. Moments passed and nothing happened. Cassandra frowned and knocked once more. Nothing. Not good.
The Seeker took off and skitted to a halt behind the cart, hooking her hands onto the frame she vaulted over the back gate. Only when her booted feet hit the floor with a solid thud did Dune look up from what she was doing. The elf's ears were pointed forward, her eyes watery, cheeks wet with tears and clutched in her hand was a very familiar tome.
"How did you...?" Cassandra reached for the pack hanging from her shoulders and tore it open, none of the belongings were hers.
"Sorry didn't mean to go snooping," Dune stated as she tried to rapidly wipe the tears from her eyes.
"Are you hurt!" The Seeker demanded a little more forcefully than intended.
"What? No why?"
"You're crying."
"No, I'm not, I just got something in my eye-"
"Both?"
"Yes..." Dune sighed and shook her head, "no." The small elf stood up slowly while leaning heavily on the half wall next to her. "I'm sorry I went through your stuff, wasn't fair of me," She held the tome out. "Here..."
"You never answered me," the Seeker said as she snatched the book from the Herald's grasp.
"What?"
"Why were you crying?"
"Oh uh," Dune tugged on some of the hair hanging in front of her face, ears drooping down and skin flushing red. "I just... one of the tales in your book it was hard to read. Sad but... but still good."
"Oh?" The Seeker was surprised, most who found out about her preferred taste in literature had a tendency to mock, "What tale did you read?"
"The one about the fisherman..."
"And his blind wife?"
"Yes, it's just. Unfair his voice, why take the one thing they had."
"Exactly! The love they had was priceless, the world can be cruel."
"Right!" The two stared at one another for a moment, before Cassandra handed back the book.
"Here, it is not often that I find someone who shares my fondness towards romance." The elf looked up at the Seeker before her face split into a large grin.
"Thanks, Cass, I haven't really had much to do."
"No need to thank me, as long as you promise to tell me what you think."
"Yeah wanna discuss it once I'm finished?"
"I..." Now it was her turn to blush. "If that is alright with you. Not many people know I read such tales and even less have enjoyed them." She scratched the back of her head and coughed into her hand.
"Deal," she met the elf's gaze. "I'll give yeah my thoughts when I'm done."
"Good," they shared a grin, only for Dune to quickly glance away and mutter something about getting on the move. The two grabbed their respective packs before making their way back to the others.
The hike to Denerim had taken far longer than initially intended, with the Herald's injuries the Seeker had insisted they brake to catch their breath. At midday, Dune was sweating profusely and Cassandra found the other woman's wheezing to be concerningly harsh. They were already late and delaying any farther could lead to a search party being sent out and blowing their cover before they were even in the city. She made the decision to lessen the strain on the Herald's body and, with surprisingly little protest from the elf herself, had hoisted the injured woman into her arms. Varric frowned as the Seeker pushed forward and Blackwall sped up with a hushed offer to carry Dune if she grew too heavy. Cassandra shot him down, the smaller warrior was her responsibility after all.
Most of the area around Ferelden's Capital was farmland, though a small shanty inn sat just outside the gates. The Strangled Goose's sign swung lazily in the afternoon's slight breeze, the squeaking of old metal filled the air as the marker's chains rubbed against one another. The party continued to the gate, only to be cut off moments later by a small figure darting out from behind the shack. Hair done up in a messy bun with a dress worn and roughly sewn together Scout Harding stood before them, she glanced briefly at the injured elf in the Seeker's arms before gesturing for them to follow. She led them to the city gates, flashed something to the guards posted outside and was able to quickly get the others in without any hassle.
Denerim was much like how Cassandra remembered it, with dirt streets, brown buildings and stray dogs lingering in every nook and cranny. She grunted as the cities naturally off-putting smell hit her. No one seamed please by the stench, though Solas appeared more preoccupied with covering his ears before she could ask what was wrong Dune had pinned hands against her own and buried her face into Cassandra's chest.
"I take it that neither of you are used to the city?" Harding asked with a glance thrown over her shoulder as she made her way towards a side street.
"No, I tend to spend my time among the ruins of old," Solas stated flinching as particularly shrill laugh sounded from the nearby square.
"It's... so... loud," Dune muttered, the elf's panted breath dusting the Seeker's skin and sending a shiver down her spine.
"Will they be alright?" She asked while trying to ignore just how close the woman in her arms was.
"They should be fine, a few of our ex-dalish agents were in a similar position," Harding stated as she turned down an ally. She was extremely quick for someone with such little legs. "They got used to it though, tuning it out after a few days." Both of the elves grumbled.
"I'm sorry Lady..."
"Scout Harding, I'm no Lady and there's no reason to pretend otherwise."
"Right," Blackwall scratched the back of his head. "But where exactly are you taking us?"
"To one of Sister Nightingale's safe houses."
"The Sister has a safe house in the Dog Lord capital?" The Storyteller asked.
"She has a few."
"Why would she need more than one?"
"Less of a need and more so a slow accumulation. The one I'm taking you too came into her possession immediately after the Fifth Blight."
"Oh-"
"That particular building seems small for a party of our size," Cassandra stated as she adjusted the barely conscious Herald in her arms.
"It's been altered to hold larger groups." She merely grunted in response. A few more twists and turns and they arrived at a nondescript door, the Scout drew a key and messed with the locks for a few moments. She could just make out the sound of traps being disabled before the thing swung open, the cabin had been altered since her last visit. The common area had an array of new furnishings, some worn chairs and a small card table shoved off to the side, the entrance way by the bedchambers had an old cot and a bunch of medical supplies, as well as a few Healers in Inquisition heraldry, standing at attention. Cassandra nodded to them as she set Dune down, though she did not travel far from the Herald and instead leaned against the wall to watch the mage's proceedings. Varric's rummaging in the kitchen drew her attention and she glanced his way only to spot dark reddish splotches splattered across the cooking area's archway. Blood was difficult to get out of wood. Solas disappeared into the bedchambers and Blackwall set up in one of the chairs, only to begin sharpening his blade. Scout Harding was nowhere within sight, but a soft feminine voice followed by the Storyteller's laughter told her that the woman had followed him into the kitchen. All was calm until one of the Healer's made for the injured elf's scarf and the woman sat up with a snarl her teeth gnashing inches from the man's fingers.
"Don't touch me!" The Herald growled as she lurched forward with a speed that the Seeker had not seen in days. The Healers both jumped back, the one who had been attacked gripping his miraculously uninjured hand. There was a crash from the kitchen and the Warden's blade clattered against the stone fireplace. The atmosphere went from comfortable to tense and deathly silent in seconds. Dune's eyes darted back and forth, the elf pressing the wall to her back only to let out a hiss as she placed pressure on her wounds.
"Herald-" Cassandra began, but the woman wasn't listening, she repeated the title a few more times before stomping forward and grabbing her charge by the shoulders, "Dune!" The elf's gaze finally landed on her as fire locked with ice. "They mean you no harm, they are our people and they are here to heal." The Herald's eyes flicked back and forth between her and the Healers before finally settling on Cassandra.
"The Scarf stays." Cassandra nodded before glancing back at those waiting to treat Dune.
"The scarf stays, that's an order," the one who nearly lost a finger nodded and the other looked ready to protest but was cut off by a curt 'understood'. They began to slowly remove the woman's armour, Cassandra stepped back though remained close as she towered over the two men and blocked the Herald's naked back from the others in the room. Luckily Cassandra had done a decent job in treating Dune's injuries and there was no infection, just torn stitches and weeping wounds. The hardest part of the procedure was having to completely remove the catgut, the Herald laid on her stomach with her hands secured firmly to her neck and after a few hissed curses Cassandra decided to try and distract her from the pain. She sat down at the head of the cot arms and legs crossed.
"What did you think?"
"'Bout what," Dune flinched.
"The Book, you've read some."
"Oh," the elf's ears flicked forward. "Loved it."
"Honestly?" The Seeker couldn't keep the surprise from her voice.
"Yeah, damn thing was real moving. I managed to just get to the end of the first tale," she smiled and Cassandra couldn't help but mirror it.
"The first one is a tale of misery, the book specializes in such things, but the others are nowhere near as heartbreaking..." It did not take long to distract the Herald and pretty soon the elf had re-positioned herself so she was resting her head on her arms instead of clutching her neck like a dying man scratching at his noose. Cassandra too had relaxed and was leaning back on one arm while gesturing with the other. Neither noticed when the Healers finished and continued to discuss the finer subtleties of the fisherman's story far after they had left. Soon the sound of a wet stone grinding against a blade joined their conversation echoing throughout the safe house and not long after laughter could be easily picked up from the kitchen. Solas eventually returned with a book in hand and glanced at Dune's exposed back before settling in by the fire. Cassandra had not felt such at ease since her nights chatting with Leliana in Vale Royeaux. Varric and Harding eventually emerged from the kitchen with soup, spilling some as they shoved each other laughing all the way. Everyone cleared out so Dune could re-dress, but fairly soon they were all seated by the fire sharing stories. Varric re-told the tale of Hawke's fight with the Arishok, Blackwall some battle that he had won and even Solas shared an old Dalish poem without Dune interrupting him. Though all good things come to an end.
"Common Seeker just tell us how you slayed a hundred dragons," Varric teased after she denied to re-en-count her story for the sixth time.
"It was not a hundred dragons, I was not alone and it was dealt with accordingly," she answered with a glare and a grunt.
"What if I ask nicely?"
"Varric-"
"Cassandra-"
"How 'bout I tell y'all how I got my vallaslin at eleven summers?" Dune cut in, causing Solas to choke on his tea.
"The Dalish do not go for their right of passage until they are at least twenty how-"
"If yeah listened instead of interrupting you'd know," she snapped back before glancing at the others. "So how 'bout it?" Cassandra sighed as Varric shot the Herald a grin.
"Alright, Jay-Bird let's hear it."
It was mid-fall when the hunters started to go missing, at first it wasn't too concerning we loose clan-mates every once in a while but when the number of losses started to go up people were getting worried. After missing person number four Keeper Deshanna was right about ready to pack up and leave Planasene and head out for Minanter. Which would of been a problem due to the fact that none of our regular herds had migrated yet. Though the clan had known hunger before and probably would again, but the situation wasn't exactly ideal. Things changed when Jack's arm was discovered. Damn thing was torn to shreds and then some, if it wasn't for the bramble that the hunters found it in whatever beast had killed him would have probably eaten that too. Now with a quarry, Deshy was more determined to find the thing and put it in the ground. We knew that it wasn't no dragon, easy enough to tell from the lack of damage and undisturbed underbrush. Some thought that it might have been a werewolf, but such children's stories weren't exactly accepted as an answer to our plight. She sent out hunting party after hunting party and they all kept turning up empty-handed, on the bright side there were no more attacks, but the excess hunters in the area had scared off the game towards the Vimmark Mountains. Not the worst thing to happen though it'd now be about a day or twos journey before we could get our hands on fresh meat. Deshy was at her wits end and was tempted just to relocate the entire clan to the mountains, though protests from those who feared the City of Ashe's current state easily rebuked her argument. Things got quiet for a bit, at least until the night of the full moon.
Magic gets wired on a full moon especially in areas teeming with the old stuff, things don't function like you want them too. Fire spells fizzle to ice and any dream weaving can easily just turn to a cluster-fuck of nightmares on stilts. Most of the hunters had already followed the herds to the mountains and the warriors still in camp and not patrolling the forest were exhausted from long restless hours. I don't blame anyone but myself for what came next.
It was a nice night, the air was relatively warm with a slight breeze keeping everyone cool and even though we were getting low on supplies the lack of attacks had lifted spirits. The guard was down and that's why when my little sister asked if we could go catch fireflies in the lavender field to the West of camp I foolishly said yes. With nothing but a couple of jars, my mother's bow and my father's hunting knife we left. It was a short hike and we could still hear the camp's goings on while standing chest deep in flowers. I remember Dhea's laughter, everyone had been stressed and it had been so long since she had so much as smiled. That changed quickly.
I noticed the shift in the mood first, the crickets and nightingales had gone silent and pretty soon what was once pleasant joy filled giggling turned sour as it bounced off the trees and filled the now eerie clearing. There was no warning, but I knew something was coming. I've heard a few sailors talk about the calm before the storm, the way the hair stands up on your body and the air feels almost electrified. I just remember the thing's eyes, a glowing blue almost as pale as my own and it leapt, teeth bared and silent heading straight for Dhea. I've never moved so fast in my life as I dove forward and shoved the bow into the thing's jaws, I pushed it with my shoulder and threw off it's footing it stumbled to the side as I tucked Dhea behind me.
The few clouds above us shifted and the clearing lit up instantly. I was the first in my clan to get a good look at the thing that had been terrorizing us for months and the first thought to come to my mind when I laid eyes on this beast no monstrosity was unnatural. It vaguely resembled a wolf, though it was much too large and bursting at the seams with muscle, so much so that in some areas it's flesh was ripped open and I could see the tendons beneath. It's fur was plastered to it's body, caked with dried blood and other things that I couldn't name. Twigs and stones jutted out of it in random places and if this thing felt pain for it's injuries it didn't show it. Tendrils of white smoke kept pouring off of it's form like it was overheating and it had far too many teeth, so much so that it looked like little sharp daggers were pouring out of it's mouth. I had a second to take that all in before it snapped my mother's bow, her iron bark bow, in two and charged forward. A smart kid would have screamed for help, shit a scared one would of ran, but I couldn't all I felt was rage. A burning hatred that smothered into a cool collective calm, I drew my father's blade and charged forward. My sister is the only one who really knows what happened next, it was all a blur for me I just remember watching it shatter the bow and then standing knee deep in rotting innards.
According to her, I ran forward, holding this curved halla horn dagger like it was a great sword, though I guess for a kid of my size it might as well have been. The thing leapt into the air, it's head splitting open into two upon the decent and four separate rows of disease coated fangs were rapidly coming in my direction. I let go of the dagger and reached out with that hand and grabbed it's bottom right jaw. The teeth went through my flesh like a knife through butter and I plunged the blade as deep into the thing's throat as I could get. I was up to my shoulder in this creature as black ooze splashed onto me. The beast quickly pulled itself back spraying more iqour to and fro, the lavender that we were still standing in was quickly being weighed down by pitch. The thing gurgled and swayed taking the knife buried in it's guts with it. I didn't give it time to recover, I grabbed two arrows from the quiver on my back and rushed it. I stabbed it everywhere I could get at and when those arrows broke I left them embedded in it's hide and drew more. The thing tried to pull me out from under it's legs, but I was too small too quick and soon it was so full of arrows that I was braking them on the metal already hidden beneath it's skin. Though I didn't come away scrape free, it grabbed me by the leg at one point and chucked me straight across the clearing, I was lucky that it only broke the limb instead of tearing it right off. But I didn't care, I wasn't able too I was ready for it, had hobbled halfway back to it before it finally decided to try and finish me off instead of running. Neither of us were gonna last long at that point, it was down to who landed the next attack. I waited before it pounced and ducked just under it's gate, embedding my last two arrows into where I thought it's heart would be it died before it hit the ground and unfortunately took me with it in the crash landing. That's when Dhea started screaming.
When the Clan found me I had an almost completely shredded right hand, six broken ribs and one shattered leg. I later found out that the damn thing had been rabid and possessed by a Rage Demon, my anger probably the only thing keeping it off Dhea and attacking me, but as far as the Clan was concerned I had slain Fen'Harel himself. Once my wounds healed I was pulled from my aravel by a sea of people chanting either my father's name or Ha'lam or Fen'harel, Deshy didn't even bother to protest when I asked to receive my vallsalin.
Cassandra had remained stoic during most of the Herald's tale, but once she began to describe the beast she couldn't help, but let out a small gasp. She recognized the characteristics of some sort of possessed animal and being told that a very small elven child had taken one down on her own seemed almost as impossible as most of Varric's tales. Solas was completely focused on Dune, Blackwall had stopped tending to his gear and Scout Harding's spoon had been hovering above her bowl for the past few minutes. It was silent when Dune finished, only to be broken by the dwarf's loud bark of laughter.
"You almost had me there for a second Jay," he chuckled as he clapped the warrior on the shoulder. "You might want to look into getting something printed when this whole thing's been handled, I know a guy who's been looking for new storytellers." The Herald shot Varric a grin and let out her own hissing chuckle as she lent down and rolled up her pant leg half way up her calf. The blue swirls that coated the rest of her body were absent and instead replaced with savage scars and old burns, the dwarf choked on his drink.
"I don't blame you," the elf started. "I lived through it and still find what happened to be pretty near unbelievable."
The Seeker could not take her eyes off the leg, who was this woman?
It didn't take long after the tale for everyone to make their way to the living quarters, the once grand poster bed having been replaced with about eight smaller ones. To say that the accommodations were tight would have been an understatement, but no one complained as they were all able to sleep in beds for the first time in months. Cassandra didn't even bother with her books, choosing instead to pass out the second her head hit the pillow.
The next day was relatively bland. They were not yet given clearance to leave the safe house and most busied themselves with something or other. After losing her third game of Wicked Grace to a way to smug dwarf the Seeker had opted to read until receiving the all clear. Scout Harding slipped away at some point only to return mid-afternoon with word that their contact was waiting for them though she quickly dismissed the men when they rose to get ready, saying that only Cassandra herself and the Herald would be needed for the meeting to come. The other's were momentarily confused, but after given the go-ahead to meander about Denerim quickly took off with nothing but brief goodbyes tossed over their shoulders. The Seeker much preferred to be working and donned her armour relatively quickly, Dune doing the same and letting out a cheer when she was able to hold her preferred great-sword. The blade's brambles rapidly wound their way around their wielder's arms, both appeared to be satisfied with the reunion.
It did not take them long to get to a rundown warehouse at the city's edge, Cassandra wasn't surprised when a plain clothed Leliana appeared to emerge from the shadows themselves.
"How was your journey?" The bard asked a friendly smile teasing the edge of her lips.
"Long," both she and Dune replied in union.
"I'm sorry to hear that, but I hope that you are both ready, this might be the only chance we get at this, non?"
"At what?" "Leliana..."
A cough sounded from behind them and both warriors drew their weapons as they turned to face a young looking man in fine Ferelden clothing.
"Sorry, I ran a little late. The royal guards are an uppity bunch."
Chuckles had run off to do Marker only knows what the second the trio had hit the city proper, not that Varric minded Hero was plenty company enough. The two chatted relatively idly as they perused the nearby wears the Warden showing some interest in a few blades and the Storyteller spending his time messing with any pickpockets not perceptive enough to spot a fellow rogue. It was not until the two had stumbled into Gnawed Noble Tavern, looking for sub-par drink and even lower grade company that anything exciting happened. Seated in a corner doing anything, but enjoying the mead in his concerningly sticky mug Varric had a perfect view of the brawl that erupted centre stage and was just quick enough to clamp his hand over Hero's shoulder. He knew a champion when he saw one.
Standing a few tables off was a young man with well-trimmed hair and a tan complexion, four heavily swaying men stood over him. Someone yelled something along the lines of 'get the Vint!' and they all lurched forward like a grove of falling trees. The man in relatively well-cared for, but clearly worn, armour sidestepped the first two grabbed a nearby table and shoved it forward at the others. One man went ass over tea kettle as the table hit his shins and the other stumbled back. The roller staggered to his feet only to be grabbed by the young man and effortlessly tossed back at his friend. The back of his skull connected with the other's forehead and they both dropped like sacks of bricks.
The two left tried to surround the young fellow, one drawing a curved knife and the other razing a chair over his head. A quick side step and the young man past both. He was just beyond his attackers as their makeshift weapons came into contact with one another. The knife wielder slashing a large wound across his friend's torso only to be knocked out by a chair broken over his back.
The young man stood tall brushed some unseen dust from his shoulder and placed a few coins on the table that he had used as an impromptu barricade before turning on his heal and making his way for the door. Varric was on his feet and following the man before he had even exited the bar, he knew a character when he saw one and was not about to let a potential muse get away. He could hear Hero awkwardly stumbling behind him as he tried to navigate the crowded bar. Varric burst through the doors and immediately started casing the nearby streets.
"Looking for me?" He whipped to the side and spotted his quarry leaning against the wall of the bar twirling a dagger.
"Guess I am," he walked forward with a swagger in his step. "Varric Thethras at your service," he gave a shallow bow and held out his hand the man laughed as they shook.
"Cremisius Aclassi, though most just call me Krem," at his finished introduction Hero barrelled out of the door next to them.
"How'd you learn to fight like that?" The Warden demanded as the door slammed shut behind him.
"I didn't fight, not really-"
"Exactly," Hero marched forward. "You used both your environment as well as the other opponents to your advantage. I've never seen anything like that!"
"The Chief makes sure that all of us are trained in basic hand to hand," Krem shrugged. "And those who show an affinity for it get to learn a bit more."
"Chief?"
"Yeah," Krem stopped flipping his dagger. "My boss and the Leader of the Chargers."
"I've heard of you, aren't you guys led by some massive Qunari?"
"That'd be the Chief."
"Interesting-" "Mind me asking what brings a mercenary man like yourself into a city like this on his own?"
"Been looking for work and..." Krem darted his eyes from left to right and back again before leaning close enough to muffle his voice from the crowd. "We got lintel that some Inquisition forces might be in the area and we're interested in joining."
"What why-"
"Well I've got news for you, I'm in good with some of the Inquisition's soldiers and if the rest of your company is anywhere near as competent as you on the battlefield they'd probably be interested."
"Really-"
"They'd just need to prove themselves of course."
"Right-"
"Can't go around hiring expensive untested men."
"Fair-"
"So how do we fix such a problem," Krem just stared at him. "Well?"
"Oh, can I talk now?"
"Of course you can, what kind of question is that?" Krem huffed and ran a hand through his hair as the warden shrugged.
"He's like this with everyone, it grows on you."
"Somehow I doubt that."
"Hey-"
"We're up at the Storm Coast dealing with Venatori and bandits that have been spotted in the area."
"Alright-"
"But, before I take anyone to the rest of my company I need to know that you're the real deal," Varric nodded.
"How about we send an official Inquisition scout with you and some fancy documents?"
"That could work."
"Sounds like a plan," Varric shot Krem a smirk. "The scout and your paperwork we'll be right here at midnight tonight, show up late and they'll leave, you better be ready kid."
"Of course." Krem gave a stiff salute before straightening out his armour and marching off towards the city gates, the Storyteller watched the man take his leave for a moment thinking that the seen would be good for his next chapter. Though maybe with far more explosions and bodies littering the streets.
With not much else to do the men decided to spend the rest of their fleeting free time perusing the markets, nothing really captured Varric's attention save for a relatively worn looking dwarven merchant yelling about his fine crafts. Hero seemed to agree and made his way over to the table, the large warden plucked one of the blades from the stall and glanced down its length checking the tempered steel for any warps or nicks. Though Varric was stopped on his way to get a better view by an arrow whistling just past his ear and embedding itself into the ground at his feet.
Hero jumped and spun around, borrowed blade held defensively in front of his form ready for a fight. But no more arrows came. The Storyteller approached the miss fired ammunition and yanked it from the dirt, a note was tied securely to its side.
"What's that?" Hero asked as he returned the disgruntled merchant's sword.
"Looks like... some sort of scavenger hunt."
Leliana had gone over Cassandra's potential reaction to having the King of Ferelden sprung on her multiple times. She expected outrage yelling or a slew of nasty glares slung her way prior to the warrior kneeling and giving some noble dribble that she did not believe in. Though none of her planning prepared her for the silence, for Cass to keep a calm demeanour as the man stepped into view only to lean over to the very confused looking Herald after a few moments and whisper something into the smaller woman's ear. The elf went from confused to nervous in seconds, large ears perking from their restful position and eyes widening as she met Alistair's gaze.
"Your thing King?" She asked, scratchy voice wavering slightly.
"In a sense," the man replied with a sigh before running a hand through his fluffy blond hair. "Though what is a King really? All I seem to do is eat fancy cheese and anger everyone who's supposed to keep me from dying."
"That sounds like a King to me," the Herald responded with a smaller version of her mischievous grin. "But my frame of reference is pretty none existent." Alistair barked out a laugh.
"No I suppose that you're far more familiar with religious matters?" the small warrior went from stumbling and awkward to angry immediately, shooting the man an icy glare. He choked on his next statement. "Right... sorry, how about this I won't call you Herald if you don't call me King?" The elf cocked her head to the side before giving a stiff nod.
"Deal."
"Lovely," Alistair clapped his hands together and was back to his boyish self in seconds. "Now that we have the awkward stumblings out of the way, let's talk about why we're here." He paused and turned to face Leliana, "Why are we here exactly?" Gaze still locked on Cassandra the Sister was easily able to catch the roll of her friend's eyes.
"You mentioned wanting to aide the Inquisition?"
"Right!"
"You plan on sending troops?" Asked Cassandra as she finally joined the conversation.
"No, not-"
"Supplies?" The Herald cut in.
"Well no-"
"Coin?" "Gold?" The warriors questioned.
"Not exactly-"
"Then how do you plan on aiding us?" Her friend demanded as the man stumbled and the elf went back to looking lost.
"How about you let me finish speaking instead of playing twenty questions, we'll be able to get this meet and great over with far faster that way." The warriors remained silent as they gave the boy King their full attention. "Perfect, now I want to help you. I really do, I believe in your cause and the hole in the sky is in desperate need of a patch job. But you've been excommunicated by the Chantry and it wouldn't look too good if I, the King of Ferelden, officially sided with you or started sending a slew of troops to the Orlesian border. I'm not really the sneaky type, always been more of a hit the problem with a sword and bored till it went away kind of guy, probably another reason why Thistle running the show during the blight was a good idea-"
"Ally," Leliana interrupted.
"Right sorry, I'm rambling I do that some times you'll get used to it," the Herald and Cassandra shot each other a look. "Anyways, so sis' here came up with an idea, I can disguise some of my more loyal troops as mercenaries and have the Inquisition recruit them. They'll bring their own supplies and it'll look just like you're recruiting on mass instead of me actively sending you men and woman."
"That's your plan?" Her friend sounded skeptical.
"What about the paper trail?" The elf joined in, "I don't know much 'bout recruiting soldiers or what not, but shit seems like it'll cost a lot a coin."
"That's the best part! I'll still be paying them their regular wages so you won't even have to spend a single copper."
"Yeah, but if someone looks into it they'll be able to notice your missing troops or the fact that we ain't paying 'em."
"That, my small friend, is where my favourite sister in law comes in."
"Last I checked Ally, I was your only sister in law, non?"
"Oui, but that doesn't mean that you can't be my favourite," the King cocked his head to the side and shot her a cocky grin.
"Leliana?"
"I'll be keeping a large number of scouts in Denirim for a while to switch out paperwork and keep our," she gestured to the boy King. "Correspondents from the hands of enemy spies, meanwhile Alistair will begin sending troops into Ferelden to help deal with the current demon, templar and mage problem. Some of those men will branch off from their parties and head to Haven under the guise of doing smaller missions for the crown."
"And we'll switch them out with other soldiers every once in a while so my men aren't just lost to the Fade."
"That all makes sense, but I have just one question," the elf asked. "Why did yeah even need this meeting? It seems that yeah both have this figured out."
"True, but I wanted to meet the next woman lined up to save the world." the smaller warrior flinched at the King's words. "Which I've got to say, you've lived up to expectations."
"Really?" The Herald didn't sound too sure.
"Of course, that blade alone is bigger than me and yet you're holding it like it weighs no different than a hunting knife."
"It doesn't."
"What?"
"It doesn't weigh much more than a hunting knife," all eyes turned to Dune.
"Riiiiight, creepy elf magic is still creepy good to know," The elf shot him another glare. "Well it is magic isn't it?"
"I guess."
"You guess?" the Herald shrugged in response. "Mind if I get a closer look?"
"I thought it was creepy?"
"It is, but now I'm curious and last time I checked I wasn't a cat," she shrugged once more as the boy King made his way over. Cassandra taking the opportunity to approach Leliana, frown firmly etched into her features.
"This is not funny," is what the Seeker stated the second they were out of earshot of the King though judging by the twitch of the Herald's ear the elf was still very much listening.
"What isn't?"
"Don't play coy Leliana," the Seeker sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Springing the King on us after the Herald just recovered and do not think that I haven't forgotten about the last stunt you pulled."
"You are here so it looks like you found my clue."
"How did you even get a patch sewn onto enemy armour?"
"I have my ways," she shot the Seeker a sly smile only for the woman to sigh in response. A yelp and scratchy laughter drew the duos attention back to the other pair. The Herald was chuckling as tendrils of thorns whipped around her head like angry snakes and Alistair stuck a couple of most likely bleeding fingers into his mouth.
"Come we should return to our duties before those two realize that the other isn't so bad and we have to track them through town."
"Agreed."
The walk back to the safe house was not long, the slow wait for the King to disperse and then Leliana to vanish on the other hand was. Cassandra was too angry to make conversation and the Herald was antsy. Pacing, tossing stones and giving her blade a few practice swings every now and then was more than enough to tip the Seeker off to the elf's current state. She was tempted to ask her companion what was wrong but chose to stew in her own dis-contempt instead. Both almost ran to the door when they felt that enough time had past and their deep breaths of fresh night air were almost synchronized when they burst forth. Neither, it seemed, was keen on sitting still for long periods of time.
Cassandra was more than happy to remain silent during their journey back, though Dune had other plans. The Seeker was shoved forward and just caught herself before stumbling into a relatively murky looking pool of water nestled in the street. When she turned to shoot the elf a glare the other woman had already darted past her, a cocky grin plastered to her face. Cassandra stepped around the puddle and lunged forward only for Dune to sidestep her attack.
"Oh come on Cass, I know yeah can do better than that!" Her companion jeered as the Seeker nearly growled and lunged once more only for her swipe to be dodged. "If yeah wanna catch me you're gonna have to try harder!" Came the taunting reply as Dune dodged again before turning and sprinting down a nearby alleyway. The Seeker followed at full tilt, metal soled boots sending loud stomping echoes bouncing off the walls. It took a second for Cassandra to regain her composure and remember that she knew Denerim's streets far better than the elf, she ducked into a side ally off the one that the Herald was running down, a few sharp turns later and she was able to calmly walk out of the gloom and cut the elf off. "Shit-" Was all Dune managed to say before the Seeker poked her in the chest.
"What is wrong my friend? I thought you were better than that," came the taller woman's own tease before she herself turned and darted towards the safe house. She could hear her tail curse before the slight jingling of light armour sounded from behind her at a relatively fast pace. They dashed through alleys and jumped past long closed stalls switching who was in the lead here and there. Dune utilizing her superior speed and senses where Cassandra always had her knowledge of the city to keep herself a few steps ahead. She rounded a corner and dropped into a full sprint slamming Dune into a nearby wall, the woman only releasing a few scratching laughs as she turned to meet the Seeker's gaze. They stood there, hidden in the shadow of a building breathing in the other's breath while trying to catch their own, faces inches apart. Cassandra cleared her throat and stepped back while scratching her neck, both looked away neither able to meet the other's gaze.
"Thank you."
"No problem," Dune cleared her throat. "You seemed like you needed a distraction."
"I did," the two walked side by side in comfortable silence as they finished the last five feet of their hike to the safe house. Cassandra opened the door and was immediately greeted by an overly cheery Scout Harding.
"I'm glad to hear that the meeting went well, you should both get some sleep you're leaving in the morning for the Storm Coast." The dwarf than spun on her heal and made her way into the kitchen, Dune let out a deep displeased grown before stomping her way towards Blackwall and her gear. Cassandra sighed and headed to the makeshift barracks, she was going to try to get some reading in before they left.
She paused when she opened the door, a small elven woman in patchwork armour, with choppy golden hair and a well-cared for bow was in the process of going through one of their bags. Her ears twitched before they perked up and she turned to meet the Seeker's gaze. The rogue was just able to get to her feet before Cassandra let out an enraged war cry and charged tackling the woman to the ground.
"Tits ass!" The thief yelled as the Seeker grappled her, a symphony of footsteps sounded behind them and when she managed to wrestle the foul-mouthed woman into a headlock her companions were standing in the doorway.
"Andraste's ass Seeker, how are you going to make friends that way?" Asked the dwarf as he shoved past the others to get a better view.
"What?"
"Seeker may I introduce you to the newest member of the Herald's inner circle Buttercup, Buttercup meet the ever infamous Seeker," Cassandra glanced down at the struggling elf who then proceeded to spit in her eye.