Alistair had never been to Denerim before. He wasn't entirely sure why he was here now, save that Adela had come to him and told him he had to go, that he had no excuse not to this time. When he'd asked her why she'd smiled at him in a way that was beginning to make his heart speed up and said "You'll see. I told you there were always options."
The tournament had become a yearly thing since Cailan had been crowned. Herrith thought it was a waste of time and resources, but the other Templars looked on it as an opportunity to showcase their skills and have some fun - something that was sorely lacking in the Chantry or their regular postings. "You'll be allowed to compete if you mind your manners, Alistair," Herrith told him on the trip into the city. "But I have to warn you, Knight Commander Glaven has a more strict idea of what good manners are than your average Templar."
"Why would they let me compete?" Alistair asked. "I'm not even a full Templar yet."
"But you will be soon. Once we get back to the Chantry. And winning or doing well in the tournament might get you some consideration, were you to ask for a particular posting, for example. Adela told me you weren't keen on going back to the Tower."
"I... ah... I didn't know you spoke to Sister Adela."
Herrith gave him one of his rare smiles. "Sister Adela has a way of making friends," he said.
They were to be in the city for two weeks. The tournament would take place at the end of the first week. Alistair found he was even a little excited. Only two other initiates had come with Herrith from the Chantry, but they would be met in Denerim by some old acquaintances of his - Eryhn, Talrew and Kalvin were all slated to compete in the tournament.
They were to stay in Templar quarters on the outskirts of the City. Alistair had chores and training as normal, but he was also given some coin and some free time. On the second day of their stay he wondered into the market district.
It was much, much more crowded than Redcliffe had ever been. Alistair was on his own - none of the other initiates wanted to be seen with him, and he felt intimidated by the people, the crush of bodies, the noise and the smells. He found a cheese stall and spent a good deal of his coin there, happily munching as he took in the sights of the city.
He didn't consciously make his way there, but after a few hours he found himself looking up at an imposing building with a large crest over the gates. Two Griffons, standing rampart.
The Denerim Grey Warden headquarters had been in disrepair until Maric's reign, and it still showed signs of lack of care. Alistair found himself pressing his face against the gate bars like a ten year old, trying to see if there were any wardens inside.
"You could knock, you know," came a deep voice from behind him. "Or even try opening the gates. We don't often lock them."
Alistair spun round, flushing to the roots of his hair in embarrassment, and found himself face to face with a tall, imposing man - black hair and a black beard, with dark, piercing eyes set on either side of a blade of a nose. He was brown skinned from long sun exposure and wore a dagger and sword on his back.
"I'm sorry!" Alistair blurted. "I just.... wanted to see if there were any wardens about. You know. I've never seen a warden before."
"You have now," the man said.
"Ser, you're a warden? I... "
"Not what you expected?"
"No, that's not it.." Alistair sighed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair. "I just.. wanted to meet one, that's all."
"What's your name, son?"
"Alistair," he said. "I'm a Templar initiate. Here for the tournament."
The man cocked his eyebrow and his demeanor changed slightly. "Alistair?" he repeated softly. "Mmm. That's not a particularly common name around here."
"No ser," he said. "I'm from Redcliffe, originally... well my mother was."
"Well, Alistair," the man continued. "If you're so keen to meet wardens, perhaps you'd like to accompany me inside? Unless you have pressing business elsewhere?"
Alistair's mouth dropped open in a gape. "I.. that is... I'd love to! Are you sure the Commander won't mind?"
The dark haired man let out a burst of laughter. "Since I am the Commander, I don't see how he could possibly object."
"You're Duncan?" he hadn't thought he could be more embarrassed. "Maker's breath. I'm a fool."
Duncan smiled. "Not at all," he said. "Just honest. Which is a virtue, in these times. Won't you come inside?"
Three hours later Alistair was on his way back to the Templar quarters, his mind buzzing. He remembered that long ago boat trip across Lake Calenhad, his boyish fantasy to become a grey warden. Part of that longing had never left him. To actually meet the Commander - to see the wardens gathered together, talking, laughing, had rekindled that desire. That was a life he would have chosen.
He had lost track of all time and didn't even notice that it was dark by the time he reached the templar quarters. Herrith was standing at the gates, arms folded across his chest and glaring.
Oops, Alistair thought. This is me, in trouble. Watch and laugh.
"Alistair, you're impossible," Herrith said. "Glaven's talking about keeping you out of the tournament. Do you know what time it is?"
"Um.. late?"
"Get yourself inside now, young man. I hope that tongue of yours is smart enough to talk your way out of this one, or you'll have wasted an entire trip."
He was hauled up in front of the Knight Commander. Glaven was imposing, humourless and ugly. "Where have you been?"
Alistair shifted. "I took a walk around the city, Ser," he said.
"Where have you been?" Galven repeated.
"I went to the grey warden compound, Knight Commander," Alistair said. "The Commander was there. He... let me inside - to see the other wardens. It was very interesting!"
"Insolent boy!" Galven said. "Do you think I'm a fool? Where have you been?"
Alistair blinked. "I... just told you, Ser," he said.
"Don't lie to me! I know your type! Turn out your pockets!"
Alistair was bewildered. He emptied his pockets - suddenly mortified to find they were already empty. The cheese he had eaten, but the remaining coins.... gone. He must have been pickpocketed.
"What happened to the money you were given, boy?"
He was desperately embarrassed. "I... don't know.. ser. I must have been robbed."
The Knight Commander took Alistair's chin in his hand and stared into his eyes. "I know where you've been, boy. I can smell the stink of them on you. Disgusting. You're not worthy of being a Templar."
The stink? Alistair wondered if the Knight Commander meant the cheese he had eaten. But...
"Get yourself down to the Chantry and report to the Sisters," Glaven said. "Repent your sins, boy, and pray the Maker doesn't strike you down for giving in to your lust. I've a good mind to send you straight back to Redcliffe."
Herrith fell into step beside Alistair as he left, still utterly bewildered. "I don't understand," he said. "What does Glaven think I did? What's so wrong with visiting the Grey Wardens and eating cheese?"
"Glaven... has strong beliefs, Alistair," Herrith said. Then he stopped and looked at Alistair, long and hard. "You truly don't know why he was angry with you, do you?" he said, the wonder evident in his voice.
Alistair shook his head.
"Andraste's mercy, boy. You astonish me sometimes. You were sent into the largest city in Ferelden with a pocket full of coin. You come back late, smelling like Maker knows what, penniless and excited, and you're telling me you didn't visit a whorehouse?"
Alistair's jaw dropped. "You mean he thinks I....." he clapped his hands to his forehead. "Holy Maker."
When he looked up Herrith's mouth was twitching with suppressed laughter. "Holy Maker indeed," he said. "Oh, Alistair, I'm going to miss you when you're stationed. You are truly unique."
"Ser," Alistair said. "Does this mean I won't be able to compete?"
Herrith shrugged. "I'm not sure, boy," he said. "Glaven is a hard man to convince, once he's made up his mind. I'll talk to him, but I can't make any promises." Alistair's shoulders slumped a little, at that. "Either way it's going to be a long week for you, my lad," Herrith continued. "With all your coin gone. What is that Maker cursed smell, by the way?"
"Cheese, ser," Alistair said.
"Cheese," Herrith looked thoughtful. "Well, I hope it was worth it."