(Yeah, that last chapter was a barrel of angst... and the next isn't much better. So here, have some Alistair! That makes things less depressing, right? D:
Speaking of which, I think this is a good time to mention that all canonical Romantic Interests will be Romanced in some fashion. Now taking bets on pairings!)
14. An Army of New Recruits
Alistair wound his way through the king's camp, his splintmail boots kicking up dust and… other things… as he hurried past kennels and practice ranges. He'd been in the mess tent when he'd heard, which was why he still carried a half-eaten loaf of tack bread, forgotten in his right hand.
Word had rippled through camp: the scouts had seen the Grey Wardens approaching on the road, and they had several others with them. Finally, it sounded like Duncan had returned.
"Whoa!" Alistair nearly tripped over a mabari in his hurry, but managed to dance into a turn that kept him on his feet.
"Watch it!" the mabari's handler snapped.
"Sorry!" Alistair called, but he was already moving toward the front gates again. Duncan was back, so Alistair had no time for lectures on camp propriety and long-winded apologies.
He rounded the corner into view of the huge bridge that connected the camp to the Tower of Ishal. There, he skidded to a stop as he saw the group halfway down it, crossing toward him. Alistair frowned, spotting Rehg's bow first, and then Ira and Emmit, but no Duncan.
It looked like they'd picked up some recruits in Orzammar, though. And, judging by the two figures in robes walking behind the Wardens, they'd made a stop at the Circle Tower as well. Oh joy. Mages.
"Alistair!" Emmit laughed, waving as they came into speaking range. "By the Maker, is it good to see another familiar face!"
Alistair smirked, leaning against the ruin's stone façade as the group stepped up to meet him. "Did you lose something? Or should I say someone?"
"Duncan ran off to Highever," Ira said, looking tired and annoyed, "looking for more recruits. Apparently, he wants to build an army just out of new Grey Warden recruits."
Alistair raised his half-eaten loaf in toast. "The more the merrier."
The dwarf man let out a low rumbling chuckle. "That's what I said."
Alistair blinked, recalling the new recruits' presence. He slapped his head. "Oh, where are my manners?" He stood up straight and spread out his arms. "Welcome… everyone… to Ostagar. Site of glory, and darkspawn slaying, and a fair bit of dog leavings, so watch your step. I am Alistair, one of your soon-to-be comrades, if all goes well."
"Well met, Alistair," the dwarf woman said, stepping forward with a bow of her head. "I am Marnan."
The other dwarf cast an arched eyebrow at the woman, as if puzzled by something in that rather straightforward introduction. "Garott Brosca," he grunted. No bow from him, then.
"My name is Felicity," said the female mage with a distracted air. She seemed to find something utterly fascinating about the ruin around them, judging by the way her head kept turning about.
When Alistair turned to the other mage, all he got from the elf was a narrow-eyed glare. The kind of glare that said 'I'm going to turn you into a frog just so I can have frogs' legs for dinner.' Ouch. "You're a Templar," the elf snapped.
"Ex-Templar, thank you very much. Now I'm just Ferelden's most junior Grey Warden. A position I much prefer, I might add."
The elf mage didn't stop glaring. And then Marnan asked, "What's a Templar?"
"A Chantry mage-hunter," Felicity said, now fully attending to the conversation. She gave Alistair a considering look. "How did you get untangled from that? Even if your recruiter invoked the Right of Conscription, certainly the lyrium withdrawal should have been most painful. Or are you still being supplied with lyrium? Does it help against darkspawn mages as well?"
"Whoa, okay," Alistair laughed uncomfortably. "Very much not a discussion I want to have right now. But no, I'm not addicted to lyrium. Duncan pulled me out before I had to take my vows. Now can we talk about something else? I think the elf is trying to fry me with his brain."
The elf's eyes only narrowed further. "Rest assured, if I wanted to fry you, you'd be a charred husk by now."
"Ooookay. Right then. Mess tent's this way."
Garott snorted. "Best thing I've heard all day." He started in the direction Alistair indicated, and the rest of the group followed behind.
Alistair fell into step next to the other Wardens. "Did Duncan say how long he'd be?"
Emmit shrugged. "Who knows, with Duncan? He could be a couple days behind us, or it could be another two weeks."
Alistair sighed and, recalling the loaf of bread in his hand, took a bite. "And so in the meantime, we'll be stuck here, just twiddling our thumbs I suppose."
Emmit laughed. "Well, from what I've seen of the new recruits, just 'twiddling our thumbs' would be a good thing."