The trip to Ostagard went on relatively uneventful compared to the first night after the group had left Highever. Over the period of eight days, Duncan had regretfully informed Fayne of how he had taken her away from her family by force and that he was only following her father's wishes.
His last commands.
From that moment on she had felt an icy chill creep into her being and she slowly became quick to anger and quiet. She ate little and slept even less, and though she often saw the worried and disapproving glances Duncan would give her, she did nothing to change her attitude. Leric too had become contemplative, she noticed, and it made her angry. Angry that she could not lash out at someone; for he never gave her an excuse to deal him physical or emotional pain. How could you hurt a person if they didn't even acknowledge your presence?
A frustrated puff of air came out of her mouth as she swiftly kicked a rock over the dip of a grassy hill. It tumbled away and for a moment Fayne stopped and watched its decent, wishing not for the first time, that she to could run away from her new role in the world. At least the dreams had not come back, not that they could if they wanted to, she never slept more than half an hour at a time. Now she had to worry about the slaughter of her family playing over in her mind as well as the prophetic and useless images that clouded her peace.
Air whooshed past her face as the body of Leric strode past her purposefully, his eyes never leaving the rolling planes that made their path to the fortress. She stood and swivelled her head to watch the men as the trudged through the knee-high grass with grace only trained warriors had. Fayne's fingers lightly brushed the tall grass as she turned to follow the two of them.
Duncan POV
The sun was turning a blazing orange as his group strolled through the broken pillars of Ostagard. He was amused at both their expression, at how wonder found its way past their defiantly neutral masks. They didn't know it yet, but both were so similar and each came to him with buried secrets too deep to be revealed.
It didn't take long for Duncan to see the familiar banners of all the Lord's men who came to stand with the King against the blight. Orange and yellow of the Avasters, the purple lion of Riverbridden and of course the grey griffin flew high above the rest along side the King's golden crown. Here was where the Grey Wardens would make their stand.
And yet Duncan felt his heart drop a little in his stomach. Though he knew it would be hard for Fayne to see Highever's flag waving in the wind, he thought she might find a small amount of comfort in seeing something familiar. Yet as he turned his head left and right he did not see the striking flag, it was not there at all.
Through his musings, Duncan had failed to notice the excited foot steps of a young officer coming towards him and his recruits. A frown crease his forehead as the young man's misplaced zeal seemed to splay across his face. Joys were far and few between in an army camp and unbridled happiness like this was…strange. With panting breaths, the man stopped before the group and in quick words explained his appearance.
"Warden, Warden you are just in time for an exciting event." The lads eyes quickly moved to the elf and to Fayne, there the wide expression lingered a little longer. Maybe a second had passed and then his attention was back on the warden.
"What is this? An 'exciting' event on the eve of battle?" asked Duncan dryly, he was tired and sore, no longer did he want to be standing burdened with armour.
His tone or his expression sobered the officer a bit, but not much, "No, no no no no. It is an execution Sir. One of great importance, for a traitor has been found amongst the King's men and he is to be beheaded in three hours."
"An execution?" Surprised by the event Duncan's hand reflexidly reached out to stroke his beard. "Of a traitor you say?" Not since the war thirty years past had there been such execution, Orlais was still despised but few believed spies existed in Ferelden any longer.
With a giddy laugh the man explained, "The traitor's head shall roll like a barrel upon his blood!" with that the man nodded his head and quickly ran past them seeming to inform some other traveler.
"Your kind is so brash. What a waste of time and effort to publicly display a traitor." Duncan turned his head and regarded the swarthy elf with the braided hair.
"And what, pray tell, do you do with your people when they shy away from duty?" Fayne came to stand next to Duncan with a positively feminine pose. Her left hand rested on her slanted hip as she questioned Leric.
Leric bared his teeth and scoffed, "My PEOPLE….we don't call loyalty a duty, not one of my people would run. We are all of the same and all of-,"
"So let me get this straight, because you are Dalish, no one has fear, and everyone gets along? Well you do have a most excellent world hunter."
A creaking noise emanated from Leric's bow as the oak bent under his clenched fists. Danger flashed in the dark green eyes and Duncan saw it as his queue to intervene.
"We have wasted enough time here, come we need to find the other Grey Wardens and get the preparations for the ritual underway."
"Ritual?" a surprised tone crept into Leric's words and his brows drew down even more, if that was even possible.
Duncan dismissed the question by motioning the others to follow him. He had sent a letter a head of them by pigeon letting Alister and the other Wardens know that he had two new recruits and that time was of the essence since one requite was already tainted. Hopefully they had gone ahead into the Kacarni wilds and retrieved the darkspwan blood and treaties. With Leric's rapidly deteriorating heath, Duncan did not think he could withstand the wait it took for new recruits to travel in the wild. Indeed looking back at the elf he could identify the later stages of the taint starting to claim the man's life. Leric's face was unnaturally pale, his eyes slightly wild looking and he had sweat dripping off his brow. The boy had maybe one or two days left at best and then he would be too far gone for the joining to help.
Rough gravel gave way to smooth stone as they traveled across the white bridge connecting the two towers. Long ago the majesty of the place had gone without his notice; it was just another ruin, another reminder of the Tavinter power. Power that could not even withstand the darkspawn.
Snapping the other two recruits from their wide and amazed gazes Duncan said, "Here is where you will be staying until after your joining." He motioned behind him, "Most of the king's forces are this way and if you need repairs done you will find plenty of smithies and crafts men to meet your needs." He shrugged his shoulders, "Don't get too caught up in camp business however, I need you to meet up with the me in front of the northern bon fire at sunset, there we may discuss further details about your roles."
A swift nod came from Leric as his long strong strides took him across the bridge. Fayne, however, was more hesitant he noticed. Her eyes lingered on the entry way they had just come from.
"There is no going back Fayne; however much you wish things to be different there is only the here and the now. It is a painful lesson, yes, but one you must learn fast if you are to be one of us." He didn't wait for her reply as he made his way across the bridge. Sentries who watched over all the gates knew now what his two recruits looked like and they also knew that neither was aloud to leave the premises.
Fayne POV
He just left.
The god dam man just left her there on the bridge with a few curt words. If decorum hadn't prevented it she would have told the man to stuff his pearls of wisdom up his Grey Warden arse. What did he know of regrets and of wanting to change time so much that it hurt? Glaring after the man Fayne let out a resigned sigh and started to walk across the old bridge.
Its grey blocks were each about 20 feet long and equally as wide. It must have taken a great feat of engineering to build Ostagard. Even now after countless years and battles, the ruin stood proudly against the Chasind filled forest.
Her body ached and chaffed against the too large armour that she wore. Another reminder of just how hasty she had made her retreat from her home. Forced to wear Duncan's spare set, she had blisters and red marks on her chest where the outfit was too tight. A single tear slide down her cheek and she slowly brushed it away. She would not cry, not now not ever again over what happened to her family. No, she would get revenge rather than get emotional.
A man said something to her along the lines of congratulations at becoming a Warden, but his voice was merely another source of noise in the bustling camp. She paid it no more mind then she did the servants and crafts men who shouted orders and scurried along her path. She felt like she was in a haze; she saw but didn't really see, and she felt but she felt like she was separate from all the others.
Bang bang, the sound of a blacksmith cut loudly across the camp and as the repetitious sound came again, Fayne found herself heading towards the shop on the corners of the camp.
"Can I help yah, don't got no time for looky fucks"
"I am here for a new set of armour." Responded Fayne dryly as she rose on eyebrow at the bent over man. He seemed engrossed in his wok until he had heard her voice.
Quickly he rose up and dusted his hands on his apron, "Oh pardon me my lady, if I had known…. Well it gets hectic in a place like this you know." Her eyebrow was still raised as she watched the chubby blacksmith wring his hands on his apron not even acknowledging he had said anything.
"Ah you be wanting that armour now, ah yes I be back in a second." With that the man disappeared and returned with a dark leather armour set for a woman. She had to admit the man had a good eye for sizing; it would be a good match for her. As she stood there appraising the ensemble she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she had no money or any way to pay the man. Her gold and all her belongs were in the hands of Renden Howe.
"That will be ten silver my lady." Fayne stared blankly at the man while he awaited her coin, her face unreadable. Without further comment she turned her back and started to walk away.
"Wait! Lady… you are in desperate need of this armour." The blacksmith's flustered voice again held confidence, "annnnd I take it, since you have walked away from my fine offer that you have no coin. Am I right?"
Fayne was no longer walking away from the man, rather she was scanning the area listening to the blacksmith as he continued, "I will make a deal with you…a very good deal indeed for very few woman are in the King's army and certainly less with looks such as yours. For this armour I ask for a bit of your time... call it services rendered."
Without turning back Fayne asked, "How long?" she waited as the man let out an expectant breath.
"Mmmm for one such as you" she could hear him walking closer behind her and was not shocked to feel the man's hand firmly take hold of her buttock, "Two hours uninterrupted."
She whirled around and found herself face to face with the stout man's yellow toothed grin, one that belonged more on a cat than a man, "You will have only one hour of my time." She tried making her tone as business like as possible, hiding the quivering of her bottom lip. She didn't want to do this, the maker only knew how much she didn't want to, but she could not fight a battle in the set she possessed, and never would she ask for help from that Warden.
"Deal! Come this way my lady." The man extended his arm motioning her into the tent behind the shop. His steps becoming as eager as his eyes. With grace and pride drilled into her from birth, Fayne hid her fear behind a cool mask, and hid her disgust with smooth gaits.
As she ducked her head into the small opening of the tent, she told the man, "Call me something else, what I do not care, but I am a Lady no longer."
It was well into the evening when she pulled back the flap of the small tent and emerged into camp. Stretching she flexed her arms and legs trying to get some feeling back into them. The man, whose name she didn't bother learning, was lying on the cot in a blissful sleep, something Fayne was sure she would never have again.
Her fingers glided across the smooth black leather that now adorned her body like a cook would inspect a piece a meat. It was very fine craftsmanship and fit her like a second skin. But was it worth the price? Her fingers stopped halfway along her arm and she let them fall to her side where part of her outfit was still undone. Numbly she started to tie the strings back together, acting as if nothing of importance had just occurred.
Taking a deep breath Fayne walked away from the black smithy while tying up the last ties to her leathers. It didn't matter if it was right or wrong, what she had done, it was purely out of necessity, and hadn't Duncan said something along the lines that Grey Warden did whatever they had to. Well she definitely didn't want to bed that man, but she didn't want to die due to ill fitting armour. But what little solace she found in cold reasoning could not wash away how very dirty she felt at that moment.
Quick almost frantic steps took her farther and farther from the man's tent and to her great dismay, Fayne soon found herself running away. Her feet pounded and dust billowed around her as she ran across the grounds.
But no one seemed to care.
She was just another person among many who was in a hurry. She stopped running after only a couple of seconds, but her breathing was fast and rapid, like she had just been in battle. It took all of her control not to shout, for that was what she really wanted to do. To lament her sorrow for her pain, to tell the world what a cruel place it truly was.
Shouting voices drew her attention from herself and Fayne looked towards the commotion. The source lay somewhere behind a large pedestal and before making any conscious thought she found her feet starting off towards that way. The closer she got the clearer the voices became. Words like 'traitor' and 'hang him' assaulted her ears. With it came flashes of fire and images of dead soldiers with dented swords barring the Cousland crest. She squinted her eyes, shook her head and moved on.
People stood shoulder to shoulder blocking the view of a man on a raised platform gesturing wildly. Behind the man knelt a ragged figure with his head bent almost totally to the ground. With minimal effort Fayne was able to manuover her way into the throng of people, silently gliding past armoured bodies.
When she could move in no further she bent down and spoke to the person who stood beside her,"What is going on?"
A small female elf servant quickly glanced in Fayne's direction and then looked away back to the speaker,"Tis the traitor ma'am, he will be be-headed soon." Disgust and excitement filled the young elf's voice.
"Well that's an extreme there hasn't been a beheading in ages."
"Maybe ma'am but they said this man betrayed not only the crown, but his family too, and all for gold. His actions caused his little sister's death and that of his wife and son. Don't you think he au'to die for such terrible deeds?"
Fayne tilted her head, for such extreme grievances no reparation but one's life could be paid, "Yes, yes I do agree. For a man such as that only death would suffice-," However Fayne's words were drown out by a cheering chant from the crowd saying "kill him kill him" over and over. Finally it died down when a highly armoured figure raised his hand.
"You are all here to witness the death of a maggot, a piece of scum who doesn't deserve to be called a man."
Again the cheering began only to fall silent at his gesture, "But do not fear, we will cast him from the Maker and he shall find no peace without a head!" quickly the figure grabbed a handful of the bent man's head and yanked it forcefully upward to face the hungry crowd. Fayne was now close enough to see the damaged man clearly, to make out his sharply defined face and red hair.
The guard on the stage looked at his prisoner, which he held by the hair, and loudly asked, "Any last words, Fergus Cousland, before you meet your maker?"