Chapter 2 – Friends Will Be Friends
Life…Audria hummed to herself as she crossed from Flissa's tavern towards the Chantry building. Don't talk to me about life…One minute you're some…happy nobody, the next people are saying 'hail! Our sort-of-hero! Now get cracking and save the world for us!'
And we want it done yesterday!
Now there was a horde of people wanting her to pull them out of whatever deep, muddy hole they'd found themselves in. Mages? First, they voted for freedom and the right not to be taken away from polite society and shoved into a stone tower somewhere in the middle of nowhere where they couldn't harm anyone. Then they wonder why they didn't have a home anymore and no one wanted them anywhere near polite society where they could harm anyone.
As for the Templars…? Well, Audria sighed. No one wanted them either and…her shoulders stiffened and her gut twisted at the other thought; what about all the young apprentices and the old Templars? What about them? Little Hanifa from the Alienage who'd been so scared she'd burned down her own house and old Ser Astley who'd been taking lyrium so long he couldn't tell his right foot from his left and drooled on himself? What about all the Tranquil? They hadn't gotten a vote. The folk in the White Spire and Cumberland hadn't given a monkey's bottom about them. They weren't even considered people anymore.
She'd heard about that mage in Kirkwall who was all 'Oh, I don't like being locked up, so I'll just blow everyone up and that'll make things better' yay! Huh and the mages in Redcliffe feel threatened now? They were only given sanctuary by the bloody Queen of Ferelden. Sorry, Audria corrected herself. Her Majesty the bloody Queen of Ferelden, because she was grateful really that anyone had taken pity on the mages and given them someplace to be, despite the fact they'd had it easy and were acting like a bunch of spoiled brats who'd realised personal responsibility wasn't what it was cracked up to be.
Ugh…and I'm supposed to be one of them.
They want me, a…M. A. G. E to take responsibility for everything and fix it all; the hole in the sky, every little war and spat and conflict going around and then make things better. Shiny. With rainbows and bunnies and singing Chantry sisters making clothes out of curtains for orphans.
Audria shrugged. Sure…not a problem. Of course she'll fix things for everybody because she knew exactly how. Instinctively. Practically came with a manual. Only, just take a number and join the queue because she had to fix the other problems first; like Ferelden's sudden outbreak of bandits, Orlais getting bored trying to invade everyone else and deciding to declare war with itself and the Chantry developing an acute obsession with its belly button.
And I'll do it all before breakfast.
Psht…
Breakfast. She hadn't had breakfast. There'd been bacon…eggs and porridge all lumpy and served with butter like she used to have back at the Circle. She'd seen it. She'd smelled it but had she eaten any of it? Well no because Chancellor Roderick had been doing his one-man angry horde impersonation with optional flaming torches and sharpened pitchforks and that would have been fine because no one actually paid any attention to the man…Except for Commander Cullen who appeared to have taken on the role of Inquisition Cheerleader. While Audria had absolutely no problem whatsoever with the Commander donning a pair of tightie tights and waving a chicken bladder, she did have a problem with being dragged along to be all Herald-ish at everyone fighting about whose fault it was the sun rose and set every day.
So. Nope. No breakfast.
I snacked on impromptu diplomacy and feasted on problem solving and now I can't fit a single thing in.
Now it was way after lunch and it had been pure luck that Flissa hadn't moved all of her pea and ham soup so Audria had grabbed a great big bowl of tasty, tasty green, gelatinous goo, coagulating appetisingly in the pot. It didn't matter that the bottom had burned and the soup had the taste of charcoal running through it. She was fine with the floating blackened chips of burned pea. As far as she was concerned they represented oases of calm in a sea of tranquillity.
"It was them that did it! They killed the Divine!"
"Us? It was you that failed to protect her!"
"From you!"
Audria might have flinched, but it was nothing to the howls of agony as several people unexpectedly found their nether regions frozen solid. She hurried past, eyes darting about for a likely place of quiet solitude. Also because she needed to get away from the scene of the crime before people started pointing fingers in her general direction.
Stepping quickly through the doors of the Chantry and nudging them closed with her heel, she began edging her way cautiously along the wall. On either side of the main hall were narrow, dim alcoves currently serving as storage for some of the Inquisition's supplies. Those sacks would make a handy table, seat and hiding place. Chuckling softly at her cleverness, Audria stepped over a couple of sacks and wiggled in between another two. Dipping her spoon into the bowl, she'd been about to swallow a mouthful of soup that was both horrible and bliss when the doors to the 'war room' opened at the other end of the hall.
She choked, spluttered, quickly tamping down the noise in case whoever was approaching heard her. And she couldn't have that.
"We could ask the Herald."
A shadow fell over her, followed by the Seeker's stern countenance. Cassandra in turn had been about to speak more but was interrupted by the Chantry doors opening again, admitting the bustling form of the Commander, bustling only as he could bustle, which was a lot of bustle for someone with practically no bottom at all.
"Herald!" He made a beeline for Audria's corner. "While I applaud your…ability to resolve arguments, I really don't think...that freezing of…When you…"
He was cute really, Audria thought - spoon half way to her mouth - when he blushed like that. If she had an egg or two, she could crack them on his forehead and fry them.
Tell you what, I could go for a fried egg on Templar - I mean toast - right now…
"They're called 'privates', if you require a more delicate term."
What am I? Audria rolled her eyes. A public exhibit? The Seeker and Commander had now been joined by the Tevinter mage with the fabulous hair. All of them looming and blocking out any light she would have had to eat safely by.
She sighed; knowing defeat when it poked her in the eye with a sharp stick, swirled around the gooey bits and roasted the contents over a fire. Audria stood up, bowl still cradled against her middle, her spoon held protectively over the gluggy contents of said bowl. Visions of lunch fought briefly against the combined stare of her audience and waved a white handkerchief in surrender.
"Yes," Dorian wiggled his eyebrows at her. "We are all staring at you, in case you're wondering. Makes a warm and fuzzy change from trying to stop the world from blowing itself to pieces."
Audria wrinkled her nose at the other mage. His comments weren't helping soothe either the Seeker's impatience nor the Commander's ire. She dropped the spoon into her bowl. It fell with a greasy splat, sending a miniature explosion of cold pea and ham soup over her hand and clothes.
When she looked up, she realised the explosion had reached the Commander's shiny breastplate. A single, moist split pea had attached itself to just below a rivet and was now succumbing to gravity by slow millimetres, leaving a trail of greasy soup. Completely oblivious, the Commander leaned forward slightly and the pea lost suction, falling with the tiniest plopping sound into the folds of his not-Templar set of shoulder curtains.
The Seeker had just opened her mouth to speak when Audria spoke, pointing. "An escape pea," she stated.
Helpfully.
In case anyone asked.
Which they didn't.
Cassandra's forehead wrinkled; tiny waves of confused displeasure rippling above her eyebrows.
"I beg your pardon Herald?" It was the Commander who spoke, however.
"Oh…nothing, nothing," Audria waved her spoon airily. Splat, splat, splat. Gobs of soup flying off her spoon spattered first a buckle on the Commander's armour, another buried itself in amongst the feathers of his…whatever and finally landed on the Commander's chiselled, perfectly dimpled, slightly stubbled chin.
"I…forgive…you…?" Audria ventured because at this point she had absolutely nothing to gain.
The Commander blinked at her. "That wasn't what I-"
"No, no, no," Audria held up a calming hand; the one still holding the spoon, causing the Seeker to sway backwards strategically. Smacking her soup deliberately with her spoon-now-weapon, Audria was determined to make her point. Yeah. I'm hungry. You fellows all look perfectly fed to me. Do you think I might get just five bloody minutes to eat an overcooked bowl of soup before I fell over? Is that alright? Really? Dribs, drabs and splatters of the contents of her bowl flew in all directions, becoming increasingly more frequent and widespread.
"It's perfectly fine, Commander," Audria continued; noting Seeker Pentaghast's surreptitious shuffle backwards. The Commander on the other hand merely stood his ground, arms raised uselessly in defence. It only meant more of him got covered in cold pea and ham soup. After several more moments of being splashed with soup and worse; being snickered at by the Tevinter mage, he gave up and took a step backwards. Audria watched him clear the space between them with more than a little satisfaction. One, it gave her a better view of him and two, he was no longer breathing down her neck.
As it were.
Frankly, she wouldn't mind it at all if the Commander breathed down her neck. She could bet he'd be pretty good at it too.
Just. Not. Now.
Ugh. What does it take?
"What Commander Cullen meant, I'm sure…" the Seeker began and paused. She turned to Cullen. "What did you mean?"
The Commander's neck turned a very noticeable dark pink. "I uh…"
"He was about to say…" Dorian prompted helpfully.
"Give peas a chance!" Audria completed the sentence for him, waggling a refilled spoon for the benefit of all.
She could almost hear it; the pin drop sound of her point finally falling into the place in Commander Cullen's brain that she'd been assaulting for the last few minutes while she'd been attacking his always-clean uniform…tiny cogwheels began to turn where before they had been frozen immoveable. He looked, actually looked at the bowl in her hand and for added effect, Audria's stomach gave a long, loud, hungry rumble that echoed miserably through the Chantry hall.
"We'll uh…" the Commander began uncertainly, causing Audria to feel a twinge of disappointment. She'd had such high hopes for him too.
"Why don't we let the Herald finish her lunch and…"
Oh good boy! Prior disappointment gave way to a swell of pride. Of course it could be that dreaded bloated feeling from hunger being mistaken for pride, Audria told herself. Anything was possible at this point.
"I'll…" The Commander looked down at the mess of his uniform. "Go and…" He flicked the barest of glances at Audria, grimacing. "…bathe."
He backed away. Meanwhile Audria gave herself a satisfied nod. Now, to…
"Herald, now that I have your attention…"
Standing behind the Seeker, the Tevinter groaned, dropping his head into a manicured, elegant hand.
Pursing her lips, Audria stepped over the sacks, violently smashing her spoon into the remains of her soup. "Yes, Seeker? You needed me for something?" Soup sploshed across the Seeker's armour. Cassandra stepped back hastily, but not quick enough and pressing her advantage, Audria followed her, backing the taller woman into a pew.
"Ugh, I…alright Herald, I will leave you to your…" Cassandra fled to the back of the Chantry so fast, she left a scorch mark on the floor runner.
"Well now…" Dorian's cheerful voice chirped in the wake of the Seeker, "If the enemy ever finds out that all you need to defeat our resident warrior queen is a bowl of porridge, the Inquisition is finished."
There was no reply from the Herald. Bottom lip wobbling, she was gazing forlornly at the contents of her bowl. Or, more accurately, where the contents of her bowl used to be. It had been a big bowl, but there was now barely a smear of soup in the bottom. She looked up, finally, eyes reddened and stomach grumbling even more loudly than before. One meal, her bottom lip wibbled. Was that too much to ask? Just the one? At this stage, she was so hungry she could eat a Qunari whole never mind that the one she had was likely to be a touch leathery.
One meal! A sandwich! Anything!
It was at this point that a plate appeared before her eyes. Wreathed in divine light (or it could have been the sunlight coming in from the open Chantry door), and sitting glowing golden across it was a crusty roll stuffed with thick slices of fried black pudding, ham, melted cheese and what may or may not have been a slice of tomato that may or may not have been in the presence of a lettuce leaf. At some time in its short life…and as Audria gripped the plate gratefully – skipping over giving it (and Dorian) a grateful hug – the Tevinter patted her on the head.
"Can't have our resident saviour falling over from hunger while trying to save the world, now can we?"
Audria sniffed and continued to inhale the sandwich speechlessly.
No. No we can't…and by the way Tevinter, she told him wordlessly because her mouth was a tad busy at the moment to speak. I'm totally saving your bit of the world first.
-oo-