Summary: Fenris discovers the wonders of Cumberland. He makes some new dwarven friends.
Fenris had always secretly liked exploring unfamiliar places, following streets and alleyways that were new to him but old to time. If not for Danarius' pursuit in Kirkwall, he would have spent his first few weeks there wandering and getting a feel for the city. In their travels, before starting to hunt down any slavers, he and Hawke had spent many a starry night eagerly discovering whatever corner of Thedas they had landed in, bottle of mead in hand. He had often had to pull her away from her favourite pastime, which was peering through the windows of local houses to observe the lives of the people in them. Now, he walked through the crowd of mostly human sailors, merchants, and citizens off the main dock and towards the great stone archway that was the port entrance to Cumberland. The docks and gate area were lined with booths of street vendors peddling wares and food alike, and he imagined that Felissa would have excitedly dashed up to buy the Nevarran spiced corn one merchant was advertising and proceeded to eavesdrop on a nearby Antivan couple's argument, cob in hand. But she was gone, and here he was, alone in a new city once again.
Cumberland was impressive to Fenris, even having lived in Minrathous, the largest city in Thedas. The throngs were comparable in size, and though he imagined the war had shrunk the mage presence significantly, the presence of a few vendors selling various magical implements suggested that not all Cumberland mages had fled or followed the Inquisition. Repositioning his bag on his shoulder, he lowered the hood of his cloak, despite the coastal summer heat, to hide the markings on his face; he could do without even just curious stares, let alone suspicious ones. This was a new city, and he never knew who could be looking for a lanky, heavily-armoured elf with strange tattoos. He walked sluggishly behind a crowd of sailors as he passed the pair of guards inspecting all newcomers to the city. The one closest to him peered distrustfully at the sailors and waved their leader over to his station, but to his own surprise, Fenris was able to slip by without being questioned.
Beyond the archway, the street opened into a large square, an ornate fountain marking its centre. The fountain's bronze sculpture depicted a snarling high dragon being slain valiantly by some member of the Pentaghast family, Fenris guessed. A few lavishly-dressed human women and children sat on the edges of the stone base of the fountain, chattering and enjoying the spray of the water in the morning sun.
The square was lined all around with buildings several stories high, much like the narrow alleys of Little Llomerryn, but unlike the raider city, the polished white stone of the ornate facades showed Cumberland's wealth. Each building had neat rows of similarly-styled balconies, some made from curved wrought-iron crafted in intricate designs, others of elegantly-carved different coloured stone. Bright flowers grew in pots hung from handsome wooden windows. Most impressively, just below the roof, each building sported a beautifully-emblazoned Nevarran family name, probably of the noble house that had built it: Van Keren, Radak, Van Graf, and many more. The names were either carved into the stone or laid in marble, silver, and gold. Cumberland had no shortage of wealth, it seemed.
The first floor of one such building in the corner of the square (property of the Mlaker family) housed a tavern, marked by a hanging sign identifying it as such. Though the splendour of the square suggested that Fenris severely lacked the coin to rent a room there, it was as good a place as any to get his bearings.
As soon as he stepped into the tavern, Fenris was greeted by a lavishly decorated main hall, furs draped over plush leather divans and busts of animals adorning the walls. He got a few glances from the nobles as he strode up to the counter, but unlike the common people in the taverns of Little Llomerryn and Kirkwall, nobles knew how to be discreet. Regardless, he pulled his hood lower, and approached the barkeep meticulously polishing the rich mahogany wood of the counter. The human, dark-haired and rather handsome, looked up skeptically as Fenris approached.
"Serah, I'm afraid we do not permit solicitation of mercenary work in the Hunter's Rest," he stated quietly, with a critical eye. "Otherwise, our rooms are booked solid for the next few weeks, unfortunately."
Fenris doubted this, but that was not why he was here. He forced a smile.
"I doubt I'd be able to afford one, anyway. I've just come in from Kirkwall and I'm in need of some information, no more," he explained, amicably. "Where do workers stay in the city?"
The barkeep relaxed and cracked a smile of his own. "You'll want the west district, across the Cumber. You'll find some more reasonably priced inns in the Merchant's Quarter. North of that is the Old Yard, where the warehouses and blacksmiths are, some good boarding-houses there, too."
"Thank you," Fenris said, and added, "Does Cumberland have an alienage?"
The barkeep scowled. "Yes, and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of it. Northwest tip of the city, you'll see the damn tree. Nothing good ever happens there."
Fenris thanked the man again and went on his way, not before sliding a silver coin on the counter. He remembered when he had held a similar view of the elven alienages of the south, thinking the elves within them lazy and entitled, ignorant of true suffering. Through listening to Hawke's compassionate responses to Merrill's concern for the Kirkwall alienage, and subsequent conversations with Hawke, he had changed his mind, realizing now that confinement with a miniscule chance of elevating one's lot in life was often just as bad a fate for an elf as being a slave in Tevinter. Even now, Fenris couldn't guess what would have become of him had he been born in an alienage, rather than in whatever dire circumstances had driven him to, if Varania had told the truth, volunteer to become a slave. Deep in thought, he exited the tavern, eyed by the suspicious barmaid.
As the barkeep had suggested, Fenris went west. He wandered through cobblestone streets lined similarly with the elaborate houses of the Cumberland elite, and then through several blocks of hewn stone houses resembling those of the dwarves, until the street he was following flew into a great avenue running along the river Cumber. The sight was truly splendid: the same nobly named houses he had seen in the square by the port now lined both sides of the river, painted in different colours with a variety of elegant facades. The avenue that stretched the length of the river was, as the port docks, lined with vendors selling their wares, though some were beginning to pack up as the workday (or their goods) reached its end. A few street-level taverns even had some tables and chairs set outside of their doors, encouraging their clientele to enjoy the sights of the river and the cool Nevarran air. Of all the sights along the Cumber, though, the bridge was the most impressive: Fenris couldn't imagine the effort it had required to transport the huge sandstone blocks from which the bridge was constructed. Enormous bronze statues, depicting what Fenris supposed were Nevarran monarchs or high-ranking nobles, stood in pairs lining either side of the bridge, gleaming in the golden afternoon sunshine.
Fenris crossed the river, noticing a few furtive glances from a pair of Dalish elves walking in the direction opposite to him. No doubt they recognized that the markings on his chin were not Dalish in origin. He looked back after they passed, noticing one leaning in to whisper something to the other. His pace quickened as he entered the Merchant's Quarter. It was much less opulent than the square he had seen before, and much more reminiscent of Kirkwall. He followed a large road that eventually became the apparent central square of the quarter, containing a large leather market selling armour, saddles, bags, and even clothing. The customers were haggling ferociously with the merchants at their stalls, waving merchandise in their faces and complaining about the quality. Fenris smiled to himself as he walked past, aiming to read the prices posted in the window of an inn. Disheartened, he shook his head and walked away. Though it seemed cheaper than the Hunter's Rest, he still wanted to stretch his coin as far as it could go, at least until he could find some work in the city. Perhaps the Old Yard would be more reasonable.
He left the square and headed north on a major street, passing by a general goods store and a fletcher. The buildings in this area were more infrequently emblazoned with noble family names and elaborate facades were few and far in between. Fenris noticed that the populace was becoming more elven, too, as he passed a sign that pointed the way to the Old Yard District. Beside it was a notice board, sheets of paper in various stages of yellowing pinned up. A few of the notices mentioned lost items, still others advertised stores. One in particular caught his eye: "Anuriel's Bunkhouse, 10 silvers a night, elves welcome". Wistfully, he thanked Felissa internally, seemingly for the millionth time, for teaching him to read, and tore off the paper, crumpling it into his coin purse.
By now, the sun had left the sky, and night was approaching. The advertisement contained an address, but after looking around, Fenris couldn't find any signs with street names. Continuing his route north, he started keeping an eye out for a relatively friendly face that could potentially give him directions. Eventually, a younger elven man dressed in worn worker's clothes approached wearily from the opposite direction of Fenris' travel; the latter gave him a wave and called out a greeting.
The elf eyed him suspiciously but stopped, his left hand straying towards a small dirk hanging from his belt. Fenris strode up slowly, leaving his hands at his side in a neutral position.
"I'm just looking for directions—" he started.
"Oh, Andraste's knickers, you're an elf," the man remarked with relief, in an accent that reminded him of Merrill's, and removed his hand from the dagger and visibly relaxing. "My apologies, brother, but you're tall for an elf and I can't be too careful with heavily-armoured men wandering around the Yard at night."
Fenris pulled out the paper from his pouch as the other elf stared at him expectantly. "I'm looking for this place, Anuriel's Bunkhouse."
The elf scoffed. "Old Anuriel's still trying to charge out the arse for his shite rooms, is he? Listen, I'm a married fool now, but I used to stay at Miva's Room and Board by the market. She charges same as Anuriel, but you'll be much better taken care of."
Taken aback by the stranger's unexpected amicability, Fenris smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said gratefully, putting the notice back in his pouch.
"No problem at all." He started to walk away, but then turned back. "You know what, I'll lead you there. It's on my way home, and I can tell you're new to the city."
Fenris considered for a moment. It seemed odd for a stranger to be so kind, but he had no reason to distrust him. After all, Hawke had helped him at first when they had been perfect strangers.
He followed the man through the twists and turns of dimly lit streets forced to conform around giant warehouses. Eventually, they passed a square in which now-vacant stands for merchants stood. The streets adjacent to the square were now filled with people's homes, with none of the splendour of the noble district or the Merchant's Quarter in sight. Wooden houses stood stacked several stories high, with lights in many of the windows that had neither panes nor curtains. Somewhere faraway, people were singing, and yet others were arguing.
Miva's Room and Board was similarly humble, occupying the first two floors of a wooden house. The elf gestured to the sign and stated, "That's it. Best hospitality this side of the Yard. And," he added, clapping his hand on Fenris' shoulder, "intimidating look aside, you seem like an alright fellow, so tell her Yevin sent you. What's your name, by the way?"
"It's Fenris."
Yevin grinned. "Well, then, welcome, Fenris. I think you'll find you're not the only Tevinter elf in Cumberland." With a wave, he was off, following the street they were on until he turned a corner and disappeared.
It wasn't often that people recognized his name as Tevene in origin, Fenris contemplated as he opened the door to the bunkhouse and entered. I am the closest I've been to Tevinter in years, though. It struck him, too, that he had given Yevin his real name, in a rare display of trust. He and Felissa had always assumed aliases when traveling.
"Greetings, stranger," a friendly feminine voice called out to him, "looking for a place to rest?"
A petite, redheaded young elven woman stood behind a counter on the right side of a multipurpose room that seemed to serve as a mess hall, kitchen, alehouse, and general store, all in one. It was sparsely decorated but very functional: a fire burned in a hearth to the left, beside a large barrel of ale or wine standing on a table in the corner. Behind the counter was a door with a heavy lock on it, likely a storeroom or place to store valuables. The room had two tables: one, knee-high and surrounded by three worn-out armchairs, was unoccupied. The other was across from the counter, at which three male elves had paused their card game to stare at Fenris' arrival.
Fenris came up to the redheaded elf, who was leaning casually against the counter and eyeing his sword, and took a look at the slate on which prices, nightly and weekly, were meticulously written. "Greetings. Yes, someone named Yevin recommended I get a room here. Preferably with a wash basin, if you have one."
The woman looked cross at the mention of Yevin and at the implication that her rooms wouldn't have wash basins. "Never mind Yevin, of course we do," she huffed, and looked down at a logbook that lay open on the counter. "There's a room upstairs available, 10 silver a night. How long do you need it for?"
He frowned, suddenly self-conscious of his lack of a plan. "I'm… not sure yet, but I'll pay for a week in advance."
The elf raised her brow. "Alright, if you say so. That'll be 50 silver."
Fenris forked over the coin, causing a disheartening decrease in the weight of his money pouch. The young woman, however, appeared much happier as she handily dropped the money into a lockbox. Retrieving an oil lamp from behind the counter, she handed him a thick wool blanket from a stack laying in a basket. "Watch the door, Pammon," she told one of card players, who had resumed their game, and led Fenris up some stairs.
"Food is included, just whatever you see at the fire, but ale is extra, 5 coppers a pint," she chattered jovially as they walked down the dimly lit hallway, with doors on either side. "I do the cleaning mostly at the end of the week. If you need water, I don't bring it up myself but I'm happy to heat any you fetch from the well in the market square."
Sorting through a keyring on her belt, she chose a key and led Fenris to the end of the hallway, unlocking the door on the right. "Here's your room. There's a nice big window in this one, and the wash basin is there," she said, gesturing and walking over to a small table to set down the lamp. She stood for a moment, muttering to herself and counting on her fingers, as if trying to remember something. "Oh yes! My name. It's Marie-Therese, or Maresi for short. And, before you ask, yes, I know it's not very elven, but I wasn't born in an alienage," she proclaimed proudly, "and my parents wanted to give me a good Nevarran name."
"My name isn't particularly elven either," Fenris replied with a wry smile. "Fenris. It's Tevene."
Maresi gazed at him curiously, eyes wide. It was a lot to take in, he could admit: his sword, armour, stature, and finally, his name, which he again had chosen to divulge. "That's very… interesting. Well, pleased to make your acquaintance, Fenris."
She enthusiastically stuck out her hand, callused and burned from years of work, which he shook.
"If there's anything else you need, just give me a holler downstairs," she called, walking out of the room and back down the hallway.
The room was simpler than his and Hawke's in Little Llomerryn, but less damp, at least. True to Maresi's word, a metal basin lay on the floor next to a straw-filled pallet. The window was indeed large, and though it had no panes, it had large wooden shutters that were closed at this late hour. He opened them and peered down into the street below, noting gratefully that the fall would not be too damaging should he need to escape in a hurry. There was a small table in the room but no chair. At least it had a lock and a rather impressive bolt. Perhaps any Crow assassins sent his way would be slowed by it, though he doubted it. Fenris found himself sighing, missing Felissa's estate once more, for more reasons than just comfort.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, he set down the blanket on the pallet and his pack on the floor next to it. Stripping down to his smallclothes, he placed his armour on the table. I'll oil it tomorrow, he decided wearily, and after locking and bolting the door, he laid down on the slightly too short pallet. Sleep rushed up to meet him like the waters of a warm, dark pool.
He was in Isabela's bed again. The warm lighting of her quarters was familiar, but this time, the sheets were splattered with blood. Horrified, he scrambled out of the bed and stood at its foot; somehow, his hands were gripping his sword and he was fully armoured.
"Fenris?" a familiar voice called out. It was either Felissa's or Isabela's. Inexplicably, he couldn't tell. "Fenris, where are you?"
Legs shaking, he backed away from the bloodstained bed, sword clattering to the floor. Turning to the door, he opened it and…
…he was suddenly a little boy, outside in a brightly decorated marketplace he didn't recognize. He could hear the joyful shrieks of other children playing somewhere in the square. Running towards the source of the noise, he saw a small elven child stop and wave to him. He paused his sprint and waved back, noticing the lack of lyrium markings on his arms. "Leto, ashost!" the child yelled out in Qunlat, calling Fenris over. Or was he Leto now?
As soon as the other child had run off, the crowd of people in the marketplace became denser, blocking Fenris' path. He tried to weave between them, but kept knocking into the backs of horned Qunari stens and human warriors. Behind him, the sky was turning black and turbulent, just like before, but he felt himself being drawn towards the darkness this time. As if possessed by blood magic, he took one step, and then another, and was about to break into another sprint when a warm hand grabbed his own. He turned to face a dark-eyed, familiar-looking little girl around his age.
"Fenris, come."
Turning away from the incumbent darkness, he let the insistent tug of the familiar girl's hand lead him through the crowd. They emerged from the other side into a forest clearing, a deep pool of green light in its centre. The girl had let go of his hand and was now walking towards it. He glanced behind him, trying to see their path, but people in the crowd had become nothing but tree trunks.
Looking back at the pool, he realized the girl had become a woman, and that woman was Felissa.
"I'm so glad I found you, Fenris. We don't have much time," she began, not looking at him, instead staring into the contents of the green pool.
Tears, unbidden, started streaming down his face, and he tried to walk towards her, but his legs felt as if they were locked in place. "What does this mean? Why must you haunt me?"
He started wiping his eyes to clear the tears, but the clearing began to swim. "Wait!" he cried, blinking furiously…
And bolted awake on the pallet in Miva's Room and Board, face wet. It was pitch-dark; he had likely been sleeping for only a few hours. He was suddenly very cold; he had evidently kicked off the blanket in his sleep, as it lay on the floor next to him. Shivering, he picked it up and wrapped it around his shoulders, knees at his chest, running his hand through his hair. Something about this dream… it had reminded him more of the journey into the Fade years ago, the one he had gotten so angry at Hawke about, than any regular dream. In fact, he was sure that if he had reached out to touch the sheets on Isabela's bed, the people in the marketplace, even the grass in the clearing, all would have felt no less real than the scratchiness of the blanket, the straw poking through the tough burlap of the pallet, or the cool linen of his shirt against his skin. Even Felissa had seemed more concrete than in his previous dreams. She had been dressed in her fine blood-red leathers, which she had donned before leaving him for the last time, and had stood peering into the fountain pensively, knitting her brows the same way he had seen her do a thousand times. His imagination was cruel. Felissa, to his everlasting and horrendous grief, was now a dream that lived only in his memories.
Fenris laid back down and stared at the rafters of the ceiling for quite some time, thinking about the incredible woman he had lost. Eventually, the sounds of the city awakening began: wagon wheels clattering against cobblestone, horses neighing, merchants shouting to each other, their voices echoing in the narrow alley of the street below. The first soft rays of the morning sun appeared shortly after, peeking through the gaps between the wooden shutters on the window. Reluctantly, he stretched out his legs and scrambled to his feet: it was time to begin the day.
After oiling his armour and donning some lighter leathers from his pack followed by his cloak, Fenris went downstairs to assess the boarding-house's breakfast offerings (pork sausage and fresh eggs; city living truly did have its benefits). He asked the matronly elf who had replaced Maresi behind the counter where he might be able to find mercenary work (she didn't know, but said he'd have more luck asking at a nearby armour shop). The human smith there turned him away despite Fenris' efforts to hide his ears, but when he went back to the forge, the mousy elven assistant suggested he try a mercenary company operating out of Cumberland's dwarven enclave.
The enclave, which the smith's assistant had referred to as the Dragons' Den, felt to Fenris as though he had stumbled into a deep roads thaig, except for the fresh air and blue sky overhead instead of stone. Intricately carved dwarven stone was everywhere, as were the dwarves themselves, selling in the square everything from nug leather to explosives to "fine dwarven crafts, direct from Orzammar", which he heard several merchants crying. A fair number of human nobles were perusing their wares, while still others entered and exited the variety of shops in the Den.
The compound housing the mercenary company Fenris was looking for stood several blocks away from the main square of the dwarven enclave. The entrance was guarded by two bored-looking but alert dwarves, dressed in leathers and armed with twin daggers. Both had angular tattoos below their eyes, though one of them had a particularly nasty scar which had carved away nearly her entire left eyebrow. Both straightened up when they saw Fenris making a beeline for the door. One of them immediately stood in front of it, hand on the hilt of her dagger, while the other watched attentively.
"Halt, topsider! What do you want?"
Fenris immediately slowed his pace and raised his open hands slightly.
"I'm looking for mercenary work and was told I might find it here," he declared, quietly but assuredly.
Raising an eyebrow, the scarred dwarf laughed mockingly. "And what, exactly, makes you think we're looking for recruits? The Aurum Company is the best in Nevarra, and we didn't become the best by taking in every stray rat that wanders in off the street."
Unimpressed by her haughtiness, Fenris smirked and threw off his cloak as the lyrium markings on his chin and arms began to glow as if white-hot. He'd never get used to the feeling of partially crossing the Veil, but in this case, it was an effective demonstration: the two dwarves hadn't dropped their defensive positions, but their wide-eyed stares betrayed their astonishment.
Fenris released the gathered energy and his body lurched back into reality. Picking up his discarded cloak, he said, "I think you'll find I'm no common rat."
Still wide-eyed, the other dwarf whispered something to his companion, and turned heel to go into the compound.
"Wait here," the scarred dwarf instructed slightly more hesitantly than before. "He will return."
He did, a few moments later, and gestured to Fenris.
"Our leader will meet with you. Come with me."
Fenris realized it probably wasn't the best idea, entering a compound of potentially hostile mercenaries virtually unarmed, but it appeared he had no other choice. He reluctantly relinquished Felissa's dagger to the dwarven woman, who, despite her clear unease at the recent display of his abilities, jerked her head towards its position on his belt and held out an expectant hand. The three of them entered the compound together.
Usually, when Fenris and Hawke would look for mercenary work in a new city, they would be hired almost immediately given their invaluable talents, take on a few jobs to pay their innkeeper for several weeks in advance, and set about sniffing around for slaving operations. After all, slavers had coin, ruthless competition, and valuable merchandise. Therefore, in almost any city with a considerable slave trade, and barring any crises of moral conscience, mercenary companies could make good money facilitating the business of slavers by protecting slave shipments. Whether the Aurum Company was such a group, however, remained to be seen.
Already, the way the Aurum Company operated was out of the ordinary to Fenris. Firstly, most mercenary bands decidedly did not have massive compounds in the middle of major cities, preferring to conduct their business out of rooms in taverns, where the leader would meet casually with potential new recruits while their members drank themselves into a stupor at the bar. Next, the discipline of the guards at the door had been surprising: they both behaved more like soldiers than rogues, despite their daggers. Finally, as the three of them walked down the hallway and into a small meeting room, Fenris was stunned by the company's leader.
If not for the clear deference of the guards leading him, Fenris would have entirely overlooked the bespectacled dwarf sitting at the table, poring over some ledgers. While most mercenary leaders were burly loudmouths who could outdrink a Qunari (or otherwise were Qunari), the leader of the Aurum Company was completely unremarkable in every way, not even wearing armour, instead dressed in sensible worker's clothes. Unlike both the guards, he had no tattoos or scars to speak of, and in fact looked largely untouched by combat, as far as he could tell.
Looking up from the documents, the dwarf peered over his spectacles at Fenris. "I apologize for the brashness of my guards," he began, and glanced at them critically as well, adding, "recent events have required tightening of our security."
He finished reading and handed the stack of papers to a dark-haired human woman standing by the table, who immediately hurried away. "As Inga has told you, we don't typically accept unrefereed recruits. I prefer to identify and approach potential new personnel myself. However, given Declan's description of your unique… talent, I could stand to consider you."
The man was polite and calculating, like the nobles of Kirkwall that Hawke had barely been able to stand. Fenris felt as if he'd been judged on several different counts as soon as the dwarven man had set his piercing gaze on him.
"Ah, but where are my manners? Aedan Cadash, at your service."
Fenris was unsure of what to do, but the dwarf stood and stretched out a hand, which Fenris strode up and shook.
"Fenris. Well met." He supposed that it was too late to assume a fake name now that the elves of the Old Yard knew his identity.
Aedan Cadash narrowed his eyes, assessing this new information. "A Tevinter elf in Nevarra, looking for mercenary work. Even without your unique abilities, you could be useful. Speaking of which, what exactly can you do?"
It was Fenris' opportunity to make a case for his recruitment. I should be careful, he thought.
"Many things. The ability I showed your guards makes me difficult to perceive on the battlefield. My limbs become less solid, allowing me to pass through objects. I can also produce bursts of energy that can repel enemies." He neglected to mention the frequent heart-snatching.
The Aurum Company leader was nodding while stroking his chin. "And yet you are no mage," he inferred.
"No."
"I see you brought nothing but a dagger. Is this your weapon of choice?" Aedan gestured to Hawke's dagger in Inga's left hand.
Fenris couldn't help but grin. Sometimes, it felt good to be underestimated. "Two-handed sword. I usually wear full plate."
A tiny, involuntary smile from the dwarf suggested he was impressed. "Very well. Bring your things and talk to Marcel. You can join some merchandise protection jobs and we'll see if we can use your Tevene for anything. Any questions?"
Fenris shook his head.
"Well, then, welcome to the Aurum Company," Aedan said, and Fenris took that as his cue to leave. As he exited the room, Fenris couldn't help but think he had revealed far more about himself to Aedan Cadash than he had intended to. Nevertheless, it had been a successful day. Once he demonstrated his substantial worth in these easy merchandise protection jobs, Fenris would have a stable source of income in Cumberland. Now, though Hawke was no longer at his side, he could honour her memory. Now, their work could continue.