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A single road cut through the sea of long grasses; islands of trees or rocks dotted the landscape but the view from the fortress walls went on for miles uninterrupted. Normally the road had a steady stream of people going to and fro, especially as Amaranthine was rebuilt and trade continued, but during a lull there was just one lone figure coming towards the granite-walled fortress.
As one approached the keep, the population growth was evident between each progressively larger wall. Wagons and tents gave way to small wooden houses and those structures closest to the original outer walls were of stone and mortar.
Passing under the portcullis at the main gate, the man looked around. The main yard was lively with people going to their various destinations. Banners of Fereldan, Amaranthine, the Silver Order, and the Gray Wardens adorned the walls. The messenger was staring at a massive ogre skull mounted over the gate; the bones had bleached in the sun and one of the horns had the tip broken off.
"Impressive, ain't it?" Turning, the man found a grizzled soldier standing next to him, his tabard proudly declaring his membership to the Wardens.
"Uhm, yes. It's larger than I remember ogres being."
"Lucky you for seeing one and living to talk 'bout it. That was the biggun' that attacked here during the Siege. We mounted it there as a reminder."
"A reminder? Of what, other than the Siege?"
The older man gave a harsh bark of laughter, "It's dead and we ain't."
The messenger chuckled, "That is quite true. If you don't mind helping me, good ser, I have a message for the seneschal, where may I find him?"
The warden nodded and held up two fingers, "Attend me!" The courier started at the bellow, but almost instantly two young lads came running up. The soldier pointed at one then the other, "You! Take the courier to the mess hall, let him have some grub. You! Go find the seneschal or his helper and tell him a messenger's here to see him." Winking at the stranger, "There you are, just follow that boy and he'll see you seated." The one boy was already racing towards the largest building and the other was tugging at the courier's sleeve, "This way, ser!"
The courier was almost jogging to keep up with the boy, who was talking non-stop, "…and that there's the great hall where the Hero stopped all the peasants from revolting and over there's where she killed four ginormous ogres and there's Ser Gillam, he's really nice to us pages and he hasn't picked a squire yet but Willard thinks he's going to be picked but secretly I think it's going to be Daveth and here's where we all eat - just grab a trencher and some meat and –"
"Thank you, I think I've got it, thank you. You were an excellent guide." Chuckling, the messenger left the chattering boy and grabbed a small loaf of bread and a mug of lightly minted water. The mess hall was a massive room, with high ceilings and many windows left open to let the sound out. It was between the afternoon and evening meals, but with all the Silvers and Wardens at the keep, there was always something handy for stragglers.
He sat near a group of laughing men close to the door and picked at the bread. He happened to look up and saw her. A banner was partially blocking his view, but there was no mistaking who she was. She would never be the type of beauty that minstrels would write songs about but there was something dangerous about her. And when she smiled, it was truly captivating.
He was half out of his seat ready to go over to her, no matter what his plans had been, when his shifted view revealed what the banner had been blocking. She was standing quite close, intimately even, to a vaguely-familiar, broad-shouldered human wearing a strange outfit of robes and chain mail. The messenger's heart dropped as she placed her hand on the young man's forearm and laughed, placing a kiss on his forehead when he leaned over.
The messenger could feel his face burning, thankful he grew the beard, and looking down, realized he had crushed the bread in his fist. He shook his head, deciding that it would be best if he left now before he messed everything up, again. Just then, there was a polite cough at his elbow. Turning, he saw the second page boy standing there, "Ser, the seneschal is in his office and will have you attend him there." He glanced back to the far door; she was nowhere to be seen. "Oh. Right. Yes, lead on then."
Moments later he was left with Seneschal Harl in the study. Seneschal of Vigil's Keep was a role with many responsibilities; many responsibilities that required discretion. "Yes? I was told you had a message for me?" Taking a breath, the messenger pushed back his cowl. Eyes widened in recognition, Harl quickly knelt. "Y-your Majesty, I didn't recognize – I mean - I wasn't expecting you! My apologies; I would have had a proper welcoming. Where is your guard? Did something happen?"
Alistair held up his hand to stop the torrent of questions and gestured for the man to rise. "No, it is I who must apologize for this surprise. I wanted to travel without the fuss, and I would appreciate it if you kept it between us that I am even here."
"Of course! Of course, your Majesty! Please, how can I be of service?" Harl gestured towards stuffed chair by an unlit fireplace. Alistair nodded his thanks, "I…I was looking to speak with Warden Tabris or is it Warden-Commander again? I can never keep track how often the name on the reports change."
"Warden at this time, ser. You are fortunate, she is still here. To my knowledge she is planning on leaving again tomorrow at first light with the Dryden caravan."
"The Drydens, eh? I would rather not wander the halls looking for her, is there someplace quiet that we could meet?"
"She keeps apartments here, but she is probably down in the yard right now. I'll send a runner for her. She doesn't use the rooms much; I expect one day she'll just stop coming back though. Not one for staying in place, especially where the nobles can find her, but for now it lets her be close to- well, never you mind me, begging your pardon, your Majesty. I'd be honored to let you have use of my offices if that's more agreeable."
Alistair hesitated, unable to shake the image of her with that man, torn between wanting to know and not. He shook his head, a sour taste in his mouth, "I – it's a private manner and you're a busy man. I wouldn't want to put you out."
"What about dinner, your Majesty? The men would be most honored if you would dine with them, though the cook will have my head at this lack of warning."
"No, please. Nothing; I get so many fancy dinners in Denerim, I'm surprised I can still fit in my armor." He forced himself to smile as patted his stomach good-naturedly.
If he was disappointed at the lack of ceremony, Harl hid it well as he led the disguised king of Fereldan through the halls. In no time at all Harl was opening the door to a study filled with natural light. The seneschal didn't step into the room, but reached to close the door behind the king, "Not to overstep my bounds, your Majesty, but please try to stay in just this room. She can be protective of her space. She should be up momentarily." He gave a half-bow, and then vanished behind the silently closed door.