Chapter 6) On the Road to Denerim
Layla POV
I would spend quite a bit of time reading while growing up. Sometimes, it was just to study, but other times, it was for fun. I would read of strange things. There were things called 'sheep' and 'carriages'.
Sometimes, I wondered what it would be like to see those strange things I read of in the books. But then I remembered that doing so would mean leaving the Tower, which I did not want to do. So I contented myself with my imagination. It was more than enough for me.
"Cleon, what is that?"
"A sheep."
"Cleon, what is that?"
"A carriage."
"Cleon, what is that?"
"An orchard."
"Cleon, what is that?"
"Why do you keep asking me? You're the shem!"
"Oh, but I lived in the tower for the past ten years. So, what is that?"
"A monkey's uncle."
"Do monkeys have uncles?"
"…You need to not believe everything someone tells you. That was a joke."
"Oh. I am sorry."
"For what?"
"I did not get the joke."
"…You're impossible."
"Considering that I am alive, I would argue that I am quite possible."
"Not what I meant!" I winced at his shout and he softened near immediately with a grumble. "Don't pout. Please, don't pout."
"Why? Are they as devastating as Anders says?"
"I feel like I accidentally kicked a baby halla. No, seriously, stop pouting."
I endeavored to obey as we continued walking down the road behind Commander Duncan. After all, I was trying my best to not annoy him as we traveled. Unfortunately, that was all I seemed to do. My questions wore on his nerves. My constant tripping drove him mad! I wished desperately to know how exactly to talk to him. He was unlike anyone I had seen before, and he reacted like none of the mages or templars I had met.
…Okay, perhaps the constant questions were horribly annoying. But I was nervous and scared and I was trying to get some semblance of normality. I would ask many, many questions back at the Tower. Learning was normal. Learning was more than normal, even. It was my life for ten years!
So, after a moment of silence, I went back to my questions. "Do all you Dalish have those accents?" I asked.
"What accents?" he asked back. "You're the one with the accent."
"I am not! It is everyone else that sounds strange."
"By my ear, both of you sound foreign," Commander Duncan interrupted with an amused smile.
"I was born in these lands," Cleon protested.
"But you live separately from the rest of Fereldan, taking on the accent of those around you."
"That… how would you know something like that?"
"I used to live on the streets, Cleon. You learned a lot about people there."
"I see." The look he gave me implied he did not, however. That was fine, though. I did not get it either. "So, Layla, where are you from?"
"I was born in Kirkwall. It is in the Free Marches."
"Near Sundermount," he added. "I know it well. That is one of our sacred sites. Quite a distance, though."
"I was sent to the Circle Tower in Fereldan upon discovering my magic."
"Why? Were there too many and not enough?"
"I do not know. Why would that matter?"
"It is what the Dalish do. That's how Merrill joined the Sabrae, actually." His face softened when he mentioned the name. "There were no children with the gift of magic, and her old Clan had three, so she was sent to be Keeper Marethari's First."
"So, we are not so different, then."
"We are completely different!" …I was failing to see how. "We honor our Keepers and look to them for guidance. Magic is not something to be feared, but respected, and we don't lock up our mages."
"The Circle is not as bad as you are claiming."
He had quite the sour look on his face now. "Your own people hunt you down like a rabid animal gone rampant for something you're born with. Those templars of yours-"
"The templars protect mages too."
"How? By killing them?"
"I will not make a generalization like a child and state that all templars are evil just because there are those who delight in abusing their authority." I gave him my best glare. "There are some good templars."
He looked so incredulous. "You, by the way, have the ferocity of a kitten with that glare." Oh, but it was my best glare! "Give me an example, then. I'll wait however long-"
"There is no need, for I can name one instantly," I retorted. "His name was Ser Maurevar Carver, stationed at the Gallows in Kirkwall. He saved me when my father attempted to kill me for being another mage child, and guarded me until I left for Fereldan." He looked stunned. "What is it? Are you so surprised I could think of one so quick-"
"Your father tried to kill you?" He was startled by that? "Your own father?"
"Yes, that is something many mages face."
"…Your people are ridiculous," he hissed after a moment. "Parents killing children out of fear of what they were born with… that's just madness."
"Is there not a case of that happening among the Dalish?"
"No." That was a quick reply. "We honor our clans and families. We are all each other have." He also just left them behind…
It was time for a slight change in subject, then. "You mentioned magic was respected by your people?"
"Huh? Ah, yes." He looked startled by the question. "We do."
"Do not the non-mages grow jealous or fearful?"
"What need is there for it? The Keepers practice magic to help and defend the Clan, learn the old histories, and mediate judgments for the people. But they cannot craft a bow or hunt in the teachings of Andruil." He smiled softly. "Everyone has their place and everyone has their duties. Everyone is unique and, thus, everyone has a unique job only they can do. That is what Hahren Paivel taught us da'len."
Was that true? "I rather like that." It made me hopeful for my own dream of a world of peace between mages and non-mages. After all, if it could work in a smaller scare, then it should not be difficult to make it work on a larger one. "Though, I cannot say I like where you all lived all that much."
"What's wrong with the forest?"
"I went from a city of chains to a tower in the middle of a lake. What do you think is wrong?"
"You didn't even see the sylvans, though."
"What are sylvans?"
"Spirits trapped in trees. Causes them to walk. We had to be very careful about how we frolicked about. They would get so jealous and angry at us."
"You are joking."
"Nope. Swear to the Creators, I'm not!"
"Oh, I really hate that forest now! It is unnatural!"
"Nice to hear the two of you are getting along," Commander Duncan called back. "I had a bit of worries, but I see there was nothing to fear."
"For now, at least," Cleon muttered. "You've seen sylvans, right?"
"I've heard of them."
"I still do not believe either of you," I mumbled, right before I tripped, yet again. "Ack!"
Cleon caught me, like he had the past two thousand times. "So, Duncan, you mentioned growing up on the streets?" he asked. I nearly gasped at how rude he was being.
Thankfully, Commander Duncan did not seem to mind. "Yes, my parents died when I was small," he explained. "So I was a street rat. Thief, and quite the good one, if I do say so myself. I'm Fereldan by birth, though."
"W-where were you born, exactly?" I asked hesitantly. I did not realize he did not mind questions. I would have thought for certain he would not answer any!
"Highever." He stopped in the road and pointed into the distance. "It's far to the north. We'll visit it after Denerim. It's a lovely place. My mother didn't mind living there at all, though it was far from her native Rivain."
"So, how does a thief from this Highever place become a Warden?" Cleon asked.
"Well, it's simple enough," he replied. "I attempted to steal from one. I won't bore you with the long chain of events that followed, though." So, he stole from the Wardens and they later made him Commander? The Wardens were very strange indeed. "Now then, if you look up at the horizon, you'll find our destination in the distance."
I looked up and hunted, but it still took a bit to find the hazy city. It certainly looked quite lovely from here, though. "How much longer?" I whispered.
"Another day or two at most. We'll be resting in an inn tonight."
"Why an inn?" Cleon grumbled. "What's wrong with camping?"
"It is uncomfortable," I mumbled. "The ground is hard and moist. The bugs get everywhere. The wind is cold and blustering."
"That's why you make a shelter."
"I do not know how." Commander Duncan never even tried during the times we had camped on the way to the forest. Then again, if he spent his childhood on the streets, then perhaps he was used to these things.
"I'll teach you, next time we camp."
"Then, in return, I shall teach you how to stay in an inn. It is quite complicated, or so I have read."
"Oh, joy of joys. I'm so looking forward to it."
"I am too!" He gave me a look. "Oh, you were joking." Oh, how embarrassing. "Um… Cleon, what is that?"
"Oh, not again!"
The inn was noisy when we entered. I noticed some of the men staring at me for some reason and stepped closer to Cleon. I did not like this place at all.
"You two look at the board here and pick out something to eat," Commander Duncan ordered. "I'll see about getting us some rooms."
"Yes, sir," I mumbled as he walked away. Oh, I wanted out of here so badly.
"Still enjoying the thought of an inn?" Cleon teased as we carefully made our way towards the large board with writing on it. I hoped it was all food. I did not recognize many of the dishes at all.
"I enjoy the thought of a real bed," I replied dignifiedly. "I do not enjoy the strange stares."
"Strange…?" He looked around, frowned, and pulled me in front of him. "Stay near me."
"Well, of course, I am. Why would you insist?"
"I don't trust shem'len."
"What is a 'shem'len' exactly?"
"It is our word for human."
"I am human."
"Not totally convinced on that." Huh? "You make too much sense."
"Pardon?"
"What is a shepherd's pie?" He pointed at the menu. "Please tell me it is not made of shepherds."
"What? No, of course it is not! That would be cannibalism!"
"For all I know, or care…"
"You are such a difficult person."
"Yeah, yeah. So, what is it?"
"I do not know. I assume some sort of food. Why would it be named that?"
"How should I know?"
"It's named that because it's something that could be made, and eaten, by poorer people, such as shepherds," Commander Duncan answered, suddenly appearing next to us. "Or so I was always told. It can be quite good."
"Perhaps we should try some then, Cleon?" I suggested. "I never had it before."
"Maybe," Cleon muttered. "What else is there here?"
"Oh, I do not know. I would assume food or drinks."
"Perhaps I had better order for you," Commander Duncan chuckled. "I forgot neither of you would know the items here."
"Do you already have our rooms?" Cleon asked. "I figured it would take longer, considering how crowded the place is."
"Well, not everyone eating here is staying, Cleon. Some people are just here for the food or entertainment." What sort of entertainment? After all, there were no stories or… oh, wait, perhaps he meant… oh, my face was going so red. I guess some places were like the Tower after all. "Also, we're Wardens."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"It means we're respected and feared. I arranged for you and Layla to share a room. I hope you don't mind."
"I do not," I chimed in. "Apprentices shared many rooms."
"Not the first time I've shared with a girl," Cleon added. "Many of us slept in the same room as da'len, for warmth and security. And I have a twin sister."
"Good. I'd feel more comfortable if the two of you could protect each other," Commander Duncan replied. "Now then, let's get to that food, shall we? Oh, and Layla?"
"Yes, sir?" I answered.
"If someone bothers you, tell them you're a Warden mage. That'll have them leave you alone quickly."
"If you say so, sir." That was a strange thing to advise. It was not like I could turn anyone into toads or anything! Shapeshifting was not a possible magic, after all!
"Let's just get this over with," Cleon sighed mournfully. "I miss the forest already." Well, I was quite happy to be out of it. Tomorrow, though, we would see a city, a real city! I had not seen one with my own eyes since leaving Kirkwall! It was sure to be quite a lovely and fair place, yes?
Author's Note: So, yeah. Character interactions. Duncan's backstory. Duncan being the more personable person that Alistair implies. Not a lot, sorry?
Next chapter – Tabris Origin! With his POV. …It'll probably be another long one. I'm sorry in advance.
