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"No." He grunted, setting the steel longsword back on the rack and shaking his head when the smith working with him groaned. "The weight isn't right, the handle doesn't fit right in my hand, and it's too long. I try and use it in a cave or something, I'm liable to… Bounce it off the roof, or something."
"So… Thrust." The smith sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose wearily. "I don't understand why you're being so difficult. Just pick a-"
"Well, this is going absolutely wonderfully." Jaune turned to meet the gaze of a man in simple looking armor, with plates riveted vertically onto what looked like leather. The man paid him a smirk and a little flourish with a hand and said, "Alistair. You're the Huntsman, yeah?"
"Jaune." He nodded, "And… It's going slow, yeah."
"So I can see." He chuckled, shaking his head and sighing, "Duncan mentioned that you were… A bit choosy, about your new sword."
"You ran into him?"
"At the King's tent." He nodded and shrugged, "Strategy meeting. I took the other hopefuls out into the Wilds nearby to… Get ready for the Joining."
"How'd it go?"
"No one died out there, so…" He shrugged, "Halfway through on the 'no one dying' goal for this whole mess."
"Still waiting on-"
"Yeah, we are, and no, we're not supposed to talk about it." Alistair cut him off, shaking his head and flicking the smith an apologetic look. "Sorry, new guy. Doesn't quite get the hold 'mystic order of mysteries' part of the job just yet."
"Hey…"
"Doesn't quite get the 'pick a damn sword already' part, either."
"Hey!" He grunted, shaking his head and sighing tiredly. When they both gave him a look, he sighed and turned back to the table of weapons. "I just… A hunter's weapon is special. An extension of the Hunter themselves."
"Like that?" Jaune blinked and looked down, where his hand had drifted over Crocea Mors' handle unconsciously. Quietly, he nodded and drew it, holding it so the edges - the ragged top and the cutting edges, that was - caught the light. Alistair hummed an acknowledgement, but the smith whistled lowly.
"That's a nice looking blade…" She said, leaning on the table and holding out a hand. "May I?"
Jaune hesitated for a moment before he nodded and handed it over, "Sure."
"I thought so…" She hummed, holding it up and turning to swing it down into the wood of the table. Even damaged, the cutting edge sank in deeply and drew out smoothly, as it always had, and she whistled. "I can see why you're so picky! This ain't a normal iron or steel sword… This looks and cuts more like Silverite. Is that the metal?"
"I, uh, I don't know." He shrugged, frowning when she shot him an unhappy look. "It's a family heirloom. Passed down from my Grandfather. I had it improved, a while ago, with the bronzed fuller and crossguard from…"
"You don't have to get into it." Alistar cut in, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling gently when Jaune turned to him, confused. "We can see ache when we see it. You lost someone, and… And now how you honored him is broken, and you're trying to replace it."
"Her." He corrected automatically, earning a thin, raised brow from the man. But he nodded and took the sword back from the smith, sheathing it with a sigh. "And… Yeah, I guess it's harder than I'd like. It's just a lot, you know?"
"I understand weight like that." Alistair murmured, squeezing his shoulder gently before he let him go and sighed deeply. "But… Sometimes, life doesn't let us handle things how we want. I'm sorry, but-"
"I have to settle." Jaune nodded, "I know. Just… Give me a minute?"
"Of course." The smith said, gentler now, as she backed away. Like, now she had an excuse given for him, she didn't mind the wait. And somehow, that pissed him off more than any of her nagging had. He almost snapped at her over it, before he caught himself.
What was wrong with him…?
"This one, then. It… It'll do the job." He said, picking up a silver colored longsword with a bastard handle. It was the same length as Crocea Mors so he drew the broken blade and, slowly, set it aside to sheathe the new one. Gently, he touched the edge of the broken tip and sighed, "Can I… Ask for a favor?"
"What?"
"I need a new sheathe." He said, "And clean up work on the end."
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Jaune adjusted the strap of Crocea Mors' new sheath where it rested across the back of his waist. It was a bit long for the spot, but only by a few inches. In the end, after the repair work, it had just shy of three and a half inches, and now it looked like an old Valean scramasax, with a wicked tip and enough wait to cut and thrust in closer quarters. He half-drew it with his left hand to practice the motion, because in the field that natural flow of motion, and frowned.
It was a perfect stabbing weapon, now…
"It seems you have found yourself a new sword." A voice cut in, yanking him out of his thoughts.
He turned to look up as Duncan came over, hands clasped behind his waist, and nodded. "Yeah. I'm not happy with it, but… I can find a new one later."
"Wise." He nodded, "Your old sword-"
"Crocea Mors." Jaune offered with a smirk. "That's her name."
"Crocea Mors," Duncan amended smoothly, "was a decent bit longer, wasn't she?"
"The smith had to find a better point to rebreak it, where she could smooth the end into something more useful." He explained with a shrug, pulling the half-sword out and turning to let their fire's light reflect off it's more even, tapered edge. "Something about finding a good strong spot in the metal. So it shouldn't break again when I need it."
"Rather than simply smoothing out a provenly weakened section, yes." Duncan nodded, "A wise decision. So long as the weight doesn't slow you down."
"It… Barely weighs a pound?"
"A pound is a pound. Ten miles of marching makes it feel ten times heavier." Duncan explained quietly, face softening just a bit under his beard and moustache. Quieter, he added, "I also meant more than mere physical weight…"
"Ah…" He sighed and shrugged, turning to watch the fire more quietly. "I… I will learn to deal with it."
"I'm glad to hear it. Truly, I am." Duncan smiled, turning to watch the fire with him and sighing deeply. After a moment, he went on, "Do not try to carry these weights alone, Huntsman. I will be here for as long as I am able to share it, but… You will need others."
"Alistair, you mean?"
"Alistair and anyone else." He nodded, turning to him, "I have faced loss such as yours before. I know it can be… Hard, to let others be close to you. And to be close to them. It will take time but, please, tell me that you will try."
"I… I'll try." He nodded, though he didn't know how well he'd do. Just the thought made his stomach turn… Smiling, though, he chuckled and added, quietly, "But, ah, I do have friends out there. Somewhere. I just have to, you know… Find them."
"A good plan." Duncan nodded, "Once the Blight is dealt with."
"Of course." Jaune chuckled, shaking his head. He appreciated the man's concern, and how kind he was overall, to be minding Jaune the way that he was. It was also just a bit annoying, to have him treating him like a kid, but…
It was a trade-off he was happy for, just then.
"You should get your rest." Duncan finally said as Alistair arrived with the others. Turning, he gestured away, towards a cluster of tents a few yards off, and said. "Alistair will aid me with the Joining. Tomorrow, you will-"
"Warden!" They both flinched and turned as the armored, furious form of Loghain stormed up to meet them. One of his guards was rushing along behind him, dragging a lightly armored horse with her, but Loghan ignored her quiet pleading as he reached them and snapped. "You must put this folly to bed, Warden! Before you get us all killed!"
"Hey, you don't get to-"
"There is no folly here, my Lord Loghain." Duncan cut him off, sweeping an arm out to the side to silence Jaune and block him from stepping between them. "Apart from yours, that is."
"You dare-"
"The Grey Wardens are the experts on Blights. How to combat them, how to end them. They are a prerequisite, in ways you are not permitted to know. We are here for this, for our role in this war, in destiny, and in the world." Duncan went on coldly, letting the arm blocking Jaune's path fall to drift over one of the small knives he kept on his belt. "If you have issues with the plan as it stands, take it to the King. And if he does not deign to hear them, then do your duty. That is your role in this story. Make your peace with it."
"I have long made my peace with my duty." Loghain growled, shaking his head and sighing. Suddenly, all the fire seemed to flee him and he turned, looking out, further into the camp within the ruins. "My duty to Ferelden is my everything, Warden…"
"Then do your job." Jaune said, stepping up beside Duncan before the older man could stop him. Loghain shot him a look and he crossed his arms and shrugged, "Do your best, for yourself and everyone around you, and… And listen to the King. He has to know what's best."
"Oh?" Loghain scoffed, "You think you know so much?"
"I mean, am I wrong?" Jaune shrugged, "He has to know best. Or else he wouldn't be the king, right?"
"You're a fool, too, then. How expected." Loghain finally sighed, half turning and leaning in to smear in Duncan's face. "Maker take you all. I only hope he does not take Ferelden herself with you."
"And may the Maker take you, too," Duncan smiled, "when the time comes."
"Hmph." Without another word, the armored man turned and climbed up onto his horse, riding off while his aid jogged away. Presumably to her own horse.
"He's sure leaving in a hurry…"
"He will lead a flanking force, to assault the Darkspawn tomorrow, when we have their main force tied down." Duncan explained shortly, turning to watch the Warden hopefuls settle in around the fire and start to chat idly amongst themselves. Shaking his head, Duncan went on, "I will be with that force. You will take Alistair and ensure the lighting of the signal to call Loghain's force in, then lead whomever you have with you around and into their other flank. Between us all-"
"They'll be sandwiched." Duncan turned to him, one brow raised in question, and Jaune explained, "Uh… It means trapped on all sides. It's a good plan."
"Indeed. Presuming…"
"Presuming…?" Jaune cocked his head when Duncan went quiet. "What?"
"Nothing at all. Merely… Thinking." Duncan shook his head, turning to take him by the shoulder and smiling warmly. "Get your rest, Huntsman. Tomorrow will be an eventful day, no matter what comes. I need you ready for it."
"Right." He nodded, "And after?"
"After," he smiled, "we head to Orlais, to induct you formally into our Order. And, from there… Well, study, training, and whatever comes next."
"Sounds good." He smiled, turning and waving with a hand. "See you, then, Duncan."
"It would be hard not to…?" Duncan murmured, "I am not intending to hide from you?"
Jaune just laughed and left the crackling fire, and the new inductees' Joining, behind. Hopefully, it would go well, but… Well, it wasn't like he knew how to help with it or anything. And besides, like Duncan had said…
Tomorrow was going to be a long, long day.
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Short chaoter because…
Well, you all know what is coming.
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Sidestory :
I… Completely forgot Thedas had two moons. How did I miss that?
Uh… *waves retcon wand* It was cloudy!
Lea :
Yeah. It's why I'm taking so much longer for this opening - Duncan's death doesn't hit as hard because you hardly know him. But here, Jaune has met him, he's been kind, helped him as best he could with what's clearly troubling him, and was so inclined BEFORE recruiting him. Which makes the inevitable hurt that bit more.