Disclaimer: I don't own A song of Ice and Fire, or Dragon Age
Game of Dragons
The two friends continued their chess match. Fausten stroked his chin as he considered which piece to move. Sacrifice a pawn? Or a rook? Give his opponent the higher ranked piece, so that the lower piece could take a few more steps towards his king. Aerys hung his head back, mockingly yawning at Fausten's inaction.
"Perhaps you should pray to your god for victory, your Maker," Aerys huffed.
"It is laughable to pray for victory, what care does the Maker have for the games of men, or even their lives?" Fausten asked.
"Careful birdie, your priests would be displeased to hear such blasphemy from you," Aerys said.
"Blasphemy changes with the times, as do sins, as does the devotion of those whom follow a religion. One who spends his entire life dedicating himself to every bit of scripture, to every commandment, one whom shapes his entire existence on his religion, is not necessarily more devoted or faithful than the man who simply believes," Fausten explained.
"I've never seen you pray, do you truly believe?" Aerys asked.
"I believe in a power higher than ours, I believe everyone must keep their own counsel on gods, their faith is theirs. That being said I do find a problem when people take their faith too far, when they take scripture too literally. Then there is the very concept of churches themselves, the hierarchy of the church, the involvement of the church in politics. The faith should not be allowed to dictate how a land is ruled, there are too many contradictions to their teachings, too much room for extremism. There is magic in my land..."
Aerys groaned at Fausten's words.
"There is magic, mages Aerys, imprisoned by the Chantry because of the power they wield, a power they need to learn to control, that is the necessity of the circle of magi. But that is not always the reason they are given. So many children are sent away from their family under the belief that there is something wrong with them. Or that the Maker doesn't love them, or that they're unholy, templars are a necessity because of their skills, but I don't agree with them reporting to the chantry, there is too much room for fanaticism," Fausten continued.
"Fanaticism, Extremism, they're problems regardless of whether or not religion is involved, one can take their ideals too far. Once you've tasted power, "Aerys looked at his hand, squeezing it into a fist as he spoke, his voice drifting as if he was seeing something. "Once you've judged another, controlled life, provided justice, it feels good, and it starts to feel right. You convince yourself that you are right, and just!"
"That's quite deep Aerys, careful or you might lose yourself," Fausten chuckled
"I can't lose myself Faust, not when I have you with me," Aerys smiled and Fausten nodded his head. "There are many gods, the summer isles have their fertility goddess, the Iron islanders have their drowned gods, the Northmen have their trees, in the lands to the east there are the followers of their red god, the fire god."
It was Fausten's turn to groan.
"My open mindedness has it limits, those people are just nuts!" he said.
Aerys blinked in confusion for a moment, he had never heard such criticism from his friend. Then he began to laugh, rolling his head back before Fausten joined him.
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 4: Red Riot
Qohor, the city of sorcerers as some in Westeros called it. James had been there once, when he was Fausten. He had hoped to gain a Valyrian steel weapon there, as Qohor was one of the few places in the world that held the knowledge of reworking the legendary material. But it was a closely guarded secret, and it was in Qohor that Fausten learnt that a man was only as good as his weapon. A poor swordsman with a Valyrian steel blade was no match for a master with an iron one. Nobles clamoured for the steel as a status symbol, to show it off. James believed it to be a waste of the true potential of a blade.
'What good is a sword that rests in the sheath?' he wondered.
"Fuck I feel weary," one of the soldiers said.
"They say the followers of the black goat practice dark magic here," whispered another.
"They offer daily blood rituals, they believe there is power in such things, that doesn't make it true," James said.
"Perhaps we could offer them a sacrifice," Alexa muttered.
She looked over her shoulder, at their chained prisoner Khal Drogo. Or simply Drogo, his braid was gone, tied against a banner one of the men carried. Qohor was the gateway to the east, traders often came to the city. Freemen from Pentos and Braavos, slavers from Meeren and Astapor. The city indirectly traded with the far off lands of Yi Ti. Most of the city watch consisted of Unsullied, formidable fighters raised from birth to be fearless. James's tactic was simple, spread the word of the company's victory over Drogo, by marching Drogo through the city streets. People watched them, saw their prisoner and the length of Drogo's braid wrapped around the banner.
"Is that really the undefeated Khal?" some asked.
"Not so undefeated anymore," said others.
"I can't tell whether people are glad, or sad that he's lost," Asher said.
"Why mourn for a man like him?" Alexa asked.
"Some people have a very romantic view of the Dothraki, hell a romantic view of cunts in general...or they just like cunts, shows you how shitty people are," said a Ferelden man in a scale mail coat.
"The same could be said for us demonising the Dothraki," Durad said.
"People are only right when it is believed they are right," Stork said.
"What do you mean?" Asher asked.
"My people have their own romantic view of our former homeland, Arlathan, the great elf empire, but I'm of the opinion that it was just another empire, it did brilliant and terrible things. Often terrible things are done in the creation of an empire. My clan didn't like the fact that I said once we were no better than Tevinter," the elf explained.
"Ouch," Stone muttered.
"Everything is dependent on the point of view really," James said. "These people believe that by spilling blood on a daily basis that is shows their god how loyal they are, to others it seems like the mindless slaughter of animals and even people."
"They sacrifice people here?" Durad asked.
"On holy days they do just that, criminals but there are many forms of criminal, in their most desperate times nobles have even sacrificed their own children," James explained.
"It all seems too wasteful!"
"From your point of view, from mine as well," James said.
He uncorked his satchel and forced Drogo to swallow some water. The man was beginning to pale and his throat was dry. Every so often, mashed up food and drink would be forced down his throat. Some of James's men argued over why he should be kept alive, but it wasn't a kindness. He wanted people to see Drogo in chains, to see him defeated. The people saw him, now the noble quarter would see him. From their balconies and windows, the Qohor nobility watched the undefeated Khal being dragged across the streets. The people of Qohor feared the Dothraki, every three or four years Khal Zekko would ride his Khalasar to the city. To keep him from attacking, they would shower him with gifts and bribes. Seeing the supposedly undefeated Khal would give them hope, and entice them into defying the Dothraki more. By showing people their strength, the company would gain respect. Their numbers would grow, they would gain more contracts, more wealth and more reputation.
"Something is happening on the road ahead," Stork said.
James put a hand to his sword as the company drew closer to a market stall. He saw ahead timber scattered across the floor, religious idols scattered and local men at the mercy of men in red. James raised his hand, commanding the men to stop.
"Stay alert," he told them before he began moving ahead.
He narrowed his eyes at the men in the red robes as they smashed the goat figures against the ground.
"Leave that man be," he commanded, half drawing his sword.
Seeing an obviously armoured and armed fighter, the men in red chose to flee. James knelt by the older man's side, he was a carpenter judging from his hands and the tools scattered across the floor. There was however a significant lack of stock at that moment, the men in red had only smashed a few items but already the store owner was low.
"Thank you," the man said as James helped him up.
"Were they followers of R'hllor?" James asked.
"Young fools, converts I'm afraid," the carpenter said, limping to his table.
"I have met these red priestesses, they can make converting seem appealing to the young," James said.
"Indeed," the man groaned.
"This is not the first time they have shaken down your business is it?" James asked.
"It began a few days ago, they wanted me to make symbols based upon the fiery heart of the lord of light. To do such a thing would be a death sentence, whilst it is not illegal in Qohor to carry religious symbols, selling them is. I would be accused of trying to convert people and arrested," the carpenter explained. "I refused the converts, and they broke my leg for it, but I've gotten off easy compared to others."
"Your shop doesn't look like it has," James said.
"They cause damage to the outside, but they don't need to do anything to the inside. Several businesses in Qohor have suffered over the past few weeks, more youths flock to R'hllor, some I daresay don't even believe."
"There's a crisis, the goat offers no solution and neither does the city, so perhaps the lord of light offers one, is that their mind set?" James asked.
"Precisely, it all started when a pack of those red priests took up residence in the forest," the carpenter said.
The forest of Qohor was what surrounded the city. James already understood why the stock at the store was so low. Though a trade hub, the city's primary source of income was the importing of lumber. The forest provided the best source, if one wanted to break the city through economics, interfering with the lumber trade was a good start. James picked up a figure of a griffon and paid the man for the information.
"We're going to return to camp and pick this back up in the morning," James said and his officers nodded their heads.
Making an agreement with the city authorities, the company formed a camp outside of the city. In exchange, the company would assist the Unsullied in establishing order. The payment of the job was the right to stay within the city limits, to walk the streets and even an audience with the city lords. On the first night James had Durad, Alexa and a few others scout the woods. Garbed in dark green clothes and hoods, they crept through the woods. It wasn't to attack the R'hllor followers camp, but to scout them out. They were armed, and they were practising their religion, chanting around their fires. On the second day, James took his men into the city and assisted the watch.
"Riots are a complicated fight," Stone began, addressing the less experienced fighters. "Those whom start riots can turn those whom don't even share their beliefs into allies, once passersby are caught in the crossfire, they'll fight to survive and they spread, which is why we focus on defence and containment."
"The phalanx is not just the ideal tactic in a battlefield, but in the narrow streets, rioters can beat their arms and clubs against shields all they want, but the shields won't break and so long as the formation is strong, it won't break either. Before you kill them, try to tire them out," said a trainer from Kirkwall.
That morning ended with a riot and a few deaths, but not for the company. In the afternoon, James had the men gathered up for training.
"You all fought well against the Dothraki, but a warrior should never rest at fighting well," he told them.
He assigned men to train the troops, to improve the already formidable fighters and turn the simple survivors into true warriors. After purchasing a few carts and chains, James turned them into the ideal tools for toning the body.
"Skill with a sword is good, but so is strength, train yourselves to hit harder, to fight longer," said a man from Starkhaven.
Laurence was a brutal trainer, adding chains to weights for the soldiers to lift. He yelled at them when they failed, encouraged them as they lifted and ran.
"FASTER! FASTER!" he roared at men running with chains in the woods.
Like a mad man he ran into a formation of men practicing their shield wall. It fell when he kicked the wall.
"Dead, dead, FUCKING DEAD!" he yelled.
"Many lives depend on those first two lines," Stone said, speaking calmly and more reasonably than the Starkhaven man.
"Keep your feet firm, keep your arms up, and when they come at you, fucking bash them back!" Laurence said.
That evening, again James sent out scouts and hunters. Durad, under the guise of a convert, even spoke with some of the R'hllor cultists. They shared a camp fire and spoke of the religion and for how long the cult would be there.
"We are simple followers of the lord of light, trying to spread an awareness of his teachings," one of the men said.
"I've been seeking answers, I'm curious to know of your teachings, I'm afraid I have heard quite biased views," Durad said.
There was very little lying, very little deception. Durad understood the basics of hiding and acting, appearing to others as your best self. To the cultists he appeared as a version of what he was, a young man with an uncertainty of religion and society. He had been born outside of the Qun, the way of life all whom bore the name Qunari followed. What he knew was either from his parents or outsiders. Most outsiders considered the Qunari slavers, his parents still held an appreciation of the Qun, yet they always warned him against it.
"Lead us from the darkness, O my Lord. Fill our hearts with fire, so we may walk your shining path . . . R'hllor, you are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night. (Lord of Light, defend us. The night is dark and full of terrors. Lord of Light, protect us.) R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you. R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you. (We thank you for the sun that warms us. We thank you for the stars that watch us. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches, that keep the savage dark at bay.)"
When Durad spoke the prayers, he was loaded with feelings. The fear of the darkness, and the comfort that could be found in light. But he was also sceptical, sceptical of thanking 'someone' for the day and the night. They were all inevitable to him. He knew it was also part of his Qunari/Kossith upbringing, the Qunari were familiar with metaphors, but they could also be quite literal as well. Durad stayed into the morning, as the sun began to rise the followers again prayed, giving thanks to R'hllor for gifting them with the day. Afterwards Durad returned and was immediately thrown into the Third day. The day began with an archer from far Eastern lands, Khalid was a dark skinned man, a giant to some and a brutal staff fighter. He twirled his club around, looking over the gathered archers.
"Long bows are good on an open field, great for hunting, but at close quarters you will need better weapons," he gave Durad and a few others curved bows with knuckle guards on them.
Durad tested the weight of the weapon, light, easy to hold and carry. He drew out one arrow after another and fired, hitting most of his targets.
"Faster, you need to be faster," Khalid told his students. "Turn your hands into quivers, carry as many arrows in one hand as you can so that you can reduce your load time," he explained.
Durad followed the man's advice, he held arrows in between his fingers, moved to altering which side he knocked back the arrow through. Bows and arrows could be powerful weapons, on open fields and Khalid's teachings proved that they could be useful in city streets too. When next the riots struck, James instead had the newly trained archers kill the ring leaders. It proved much more effective than the previous tactic of beating back the rioters on the street. By killing the worshippers themselves, they showed those willing to follow them there would only be one end. But there was another attack in the evening. Young worshippers of R'hllor attacked city watch patrols and it turned into a slaughter when the Unsullied arrived to execute the rioters.
"Has all this been about practicing our tactics?" a Westerosi boy asked when the camp fires were lit.
"Why else would we be pitted against such easy to defeat opponents, the battle against the Dothraki was a challenge, we proved ourselves did we not?" asked a Westerosi Northerner.
"That shows what you know boys, every army needs a rest, and above all to practice. A sword goes rusty if it is not maintained, warriors too lose their edge," a veteran from Braavos explained.
By the fourth day, archers patrolled the rooftops and shield bearers the streets. And James Marcher was summoned by the city's ruling council of lords. He sat in front of the group of men, all from the prestigious family's, some founders and others whom had risen to prominence in the last age.
"As you may have already learned, a cult of R'hllor has taken residence in the woods," began the youngest of the lords.
"They bear responsibility for these riots, there was even an attack on one of our temples," said another.
"Two priests were killed and they 'liberated' two of our sacrifices," stated one of the older lords.
"Human sacrifices, what were their crimes?" James asked, cautiously drinking the wine they offered.
"Two murderers," said the previous young lord.
"Who did they kill and why?"
"One was a thief who took things too far, the other killed one of our priests."
James nodded his head, understanding their outrage over the actions of the priests. But there was an underlying, economic issue to the followers of R'hllor being there. An issue that James quickly inquired about, in order to move the meeting along.
"Our primary source of income is what we gain from importing the lumber from the woods. Since the cult took residence in the forest however, they have harassed our workers, prevented our caravans from passing and taken what stock we can cut down," one of the lords explained.
"I see, why not send the Unsullied to kill them all?" James asked.
"We don't want to cause an incident with the high priests of R'hllor, we have a legal right to drive them from our lands, but if it becomes a massacre then it'll only cause further pains for our people down the road. The Unsullied are formidable on the battlefield, but they are slaves, raised for killing their enemies and nothing else. Problem solving isn't their strong suit, you have proven invaluable over the past few days, able to accomplish what other mercenaries haven't."
"Our wish is for you to resolve this incident, we will be willing to pay you considerably!"
A smirk crossed James face as he worked out the details of the contract with the nobles. They would pay half to him up front, and the other half upon completion of the contract. That was how James intended to arrange his contracts in the future. He took the money and bought wine and food, enough to treat his tired company to a feast at camp. Limits were placed on the number of cups of wine people could drink, and though James found the practice distasteful he hired whores as well. No one was allowed to get drunk, but they ate hearty meals, had fine company which grew as the night progressed. James opened the camp for people of the town, and even followers of R'hllor.
It was James's experience that people often sought out religion for the sake of finding themselves. People needed a sense of belonging, or to believe they were achieving something in life. They needed purpose, something to do. By opening the camp to the followers of R'hllor, James enticed young cultists into speaking at the fire. They spoke of why they sought out the lord of light in the first place. Listening to each conversation at the fire, James found there to be no three reasons the same. The devotion of each follower was different, but how 'lost' they were to religion often matched. There were devotees, and even extremists. James set no limit on the amount of wine the cultists could drink. He poured and poured out more cups for the older cultists, and whispered into the ears of the younger or more reasonably minded ones. The ones who wanted a purpose, who knew how to fight or were prepared to learn. So James turned a plot to drive the cultists out of the woods, into a plot to recruit more soldiers to his cause.
Kings landing
Myrcella Baratheon's eye lids were heavy, and her brother Tommen was asleep. That was until Revka slammed her gold hand into the table.
"Come on you two, keep awake, you're not finished yet," she said.
"Usually the Maester teaches us," Myrcella rubbed her eyes as she spoke.
"Don't trust that man, I trust Baelish more than I trust him, and that's saying something considering Baelish is a man to never be trusted too. Now have you been paying attention I wonder? Heraldry of House Dayne?" Revka immediately pointed at Myrcella.
"A white sword and falling star crossed on Lilac," Myrcella took no time to give her answer, putting a smile on Revka's face.
"Dorne's primary export?"
"Cloth, wine and fruits!"
"What kind?"
"Blood oranges, plums, lemons and pomegranates," Myrcella paused for a moment, searching for another answer. "Olives too I think," she nervously looked at Revka and sighed in relief as the woman smiled.
"Very good, primary income for the North?"
"Wool, hides and timber, White Harbour has a great deal of silver smiths, though importing is difficult in the North due to the geography, most of the trade is conducted through the rivers or the kings road," Myrcella explained.
"Capital of the Reach?" Myrcella pointed next at Tommen and the boy nervously mumbled.
Revka tapped her foot against the ground, awaiting the boy's response.
"Sunspear," he suggested.
"Don't ever suggest that answer to a Dornish man, think Tommen, you've read the maps enough, you know the answer," Revka said.
"Is it Highgarden?" he asked.
"Yes, previous currency before the Targaryen conquest?"
"Currency are coins? In think they were called Hands," Tommen said.
"How much is a hand compared to a dragon?"
"Half a dragon!"
Revka nodded her head and slammed the books shut.
"Very good you two, now why don't we get a few sweets," she said and smiled as the children excitedly got off of their chairs.
She took Tommen's hand, whilst Myrcella took her gold hand. The princess wasn't even bothered when she held Revka's stump. She had a strength that reminded Revka of Cersei, but without the cruel tendency. Walking through the corridors of the castle, they passed several red robed figures. Though they bowed to the two heirs, Revka guided the children away from them.
"Aunt Revka," Tommen said, catching her attention.
"What is it my prince?" she asked.
"Why are these priests here?" he asked.
"Well you see Tommen, religion can play an important part in people's day to day lives. People need something to believe, and religions can provide that. When kingdoms form a relationship with a faith, they can better appeal to the hearts and minds of their people. However the faiths also use the authority given to them by the kingdoms, they grow in power and become houses in their own right," Revka said.
"I never thought of that, but the Faith of the Seven no longer has an army," Myrcella said.
"True, which is for the best."
"Your faith has an army doesn't it?"
"It does Tommen, two branches actually, the Seekers serve the interests of the Chantry itself, they answer to the appointed Divine and follow her commands. Investigating incidents, hunting those whom have committed crimes against the Chantry and even aggressive military response during a time of great crisis. The Templars however though in emergency situations carry out military responses, they are mainly guards for individual Chantries. But their main duties are the guarding of mages, the apprehension of rogue mages, and the execution of mages whom have committed murder, or have consorted with demons," Revka explained.
"The templars, they are the ones who are holding your oldest son prisoner aren't they?" Myrcella asked.
"They were, but my son is now free, from a certain perspective," Revka said, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.
"What do you mean?" Tommen asked.
"What she means children, is that we are never free," the voice of the Queen rung through the corridor as Cersei walked towards her children. "We are always bound by something, duty, honour, our commitments to our family. One day your brother will sit on the iron throne, that will be the duty that binds him, you Tommen will remain a prince, but you will also have a duty, perhaps on the small council, or ruling the Westerlands if your grandfather has his way. But you'll likely rule on the seat of Dragonstone, that is usually what is expected of the next heir to the iron throne," Cersei explained.
"What will be expected of me mother?" Myrcella asked.
"You my daughter will marry the lord of a prominent land, you will raise his children and assit him in ruling his lands, but you will always remain a princess," Cersei said.
She noted the disappointment in her daughter's eyes. But her daughter, her good girl, remained silent.
"Thank you for covering their studies Revka, what of your business with Tyrion?" Cersei asked Revka.
"He wishes for me to meet a girl from flea bottom, she worked at Baelish's 'establishment', serving drinks, but grew uncomfortable when the...children, ears," upon Revka's command the two children covered their ears. "The Fucktard wanted her to start fucking his customers," she seethed.
"The price of a girl working at a brothel, children it is safe," Cersei said and the prince and princess uncovered their ears.
"How did the meeting with the red priests go?" Revka asked.
"If you're hoping they proved to us the existence of magic, you will be disappointed, mere fire dancing, no different from the parlour tricks Ser Thoros used to light his sword on fire," Cersei explained.
"Why the sudden interest in the religion though?"
"I cannot understand what my husband's small council urges of him, perhaps the tales coming out of Thedas are what have inspired them to seek out the truth on whether magic exists or not," Cersei stated. "Children, go back to your rooms, I wish to speak with Revka alone."
Revka waved goodbye to the royal children and turned to the queen, crossing her arms together and leaning against the wall.
"These monsters you've spoken of in your stories, the ones that are apparently attacking Ferelden, are they as horrifying as it is claimed?" Cersei asked.
"The stories I tell...in truth the darkspawn are even more terrifying. I'm no expert but from what I have heard they multiply by, by turning women into Brood mothers, horrifying creatures," Revka explained.
"Perhaps it is fortunate that such things are far away," Cersei said.
"Yes, fortunate, still, I have faith that Ferelden will endure."
"Why is that?" Cersei asked.
"Ferelden is a resilient nation, and there are still grey wardens remaining, one of whom is my son, Daylen will not let Ferelden fall."
Cersei slowly nodded her head and motioned for Revka to follow her to the garden. They walked down the path, the guards a distance behind them. Both watchful for spies, but comfortable in the knowledge that whatever they would say would be between them.
"Even though you did not hold him, or know him for long, you are so confident that your son has the capability to achieve great things. Joffrey, my boy, my favourite, I want to believe he can be brilliant. Yet when I see him study, I can tell his lack of interest is not because he is knowledgeable, but truly ignorant. When I see him train, I can see he doesn't have Robert or Jamie's talent, and probably never will. And I know it seems otherwise but, when he killed Tommen's cat, that shocked me, do I seem like a person who is easy to shock?" Cersei asked.
"No, you aren't, and by that expectation I will be shocked if you are actually surprised by Joffrey's behaviour or his behaviour in the future, because he will be cruel in the future," Revka explained.
"I agree, but he is my son, and I would give him the world, no matter what he would do to it. Do you think me evil or foolish for such a thing?"
Revka stopped and looked at Cersei for a moment. There seemed to be tears beginning to form in her eyes.
(Undertale OST-His Theme)
"That day of the fire in Kirkwall, when father and I found Daylen, a lone survivor. The Chantry and the templars all said it was a rogue mage, an escapee from the circle tower. But after we took him home, I discovered the truth. He was crying, and he set the sheets of his crib on fire. I grabbed one of my dresses, and beat the flames. Then I sang a lullaby to him, I whispered in his ear, stroked his cheeks and felt the heat of the flames within him die down. An infant child, already beginning to show signs of magic. Common sense dictated that I should have just told the templars, but he was just a baby, a baby that would have had to have spent the rest of his life in that tower. But I remained silent, I kept him because he was mine," she explained.
She raised her arms, imagining cradling that little boy in her arms. Then she turned to Revka, her face devoid of a smile.
"You understand Cersei? I have never told anyone that."
"I understand," Cersei said, and just like that, she was shocked.
To see such vulnerability in Revka, to hear such a confession. For her to have taken such a risk, it made Cersei understand that despite their differences, they had many things in common and the most important thing in common. They would do whatever it took to protect their children. Especially the child they loved the most. To see such honesty in Revka's eyes, also made Cersei believe in magic. And as much as she loved Revka, she hoped her son would never come to Westeros.
(End OST)
Essos
As devoted as people could be to religion, sometimes gold was more important to them. Sometimes the prospect of employment, and one's own life far exceeded how far they were willing to go for their gods. James recruited from the followers of R'hllor themselves, and promising them gold and a future, employed them in his plot to drive the cultists from the land. Their guards were drunk from the night before, and their weapons too had been taken from those James recruited from the camp. Then as the morning came and they awoke for their prayers, the cultists were assaulted by James's men. Not in heavy armour, but in hoods and coats, they shot a few of the more aggressive cultists with arrows and clubbed a few others. Six men were killed, and the two prisoners they had taken were freed.
"I feel like we've been overpaid," Asher said, burning a few of the artefacts the cultists had left behind.
"Maybe the lords thought the general would kill them," Durad said.
He pocketed a few of the trinkets left behind, intending to sell them later.
"You know, when the general sent you to spy on them, I thought you would consider joining them," the Forrester exile said.
"I admit their pitch was pretty convincing, but I've had people try to pitch something to me before, a Qunari woman...not Kossith, pretty red head, an elf actually, beautiful," Durad closed his eyes for a moment as if he was picturing the woman. "She made the Qun seem so, perfect, as if I could finally have a place to belong, and I was tempted."
"What happened?" Asher asked.
"My mother burnt the woman to death, I had never seen her use her magic before, it was bad enough being an 'ox-man', but if anyone knew she was a mage. To risk discovery was how far my mother was willing to go to keep me from the Qun," Durad explained.
"Mothers will do a lot for their children," Asher muttered before he walked away.
Durad looked towards James, seeing the general standing over the two men he had liberated from the cultists. It was clear they were brothers, one a skinny, but strong looking boy with brown hair. His older brother had a tuft of white hair and was more muscular.
"Thief and murderer, so tell me, why did you both kill?" James asked.
"A black smith was making a Valyrian steel sword for someone, I was trying to steal it," the younger brother said.
"Your intention was to sell it right? Foolish," James shook his head and the boy huffed.
"Whoever was going to get the sword was just going to use it to decorate their hip, I would have sold it to feed our mother," the boy said.
"But Kieran was arrested, and our mother died anyway, I asked one of the priests at the temple what was going to happen to my brother. He said he would be sacrificed to the gods on the upcoming holy day. I begged the priest to let my brother live, told him that I would take his place...the man fucking laughed, he LAUGHED!" the older boy yelled.
"So you thought...fuck it, and killed him," James said. "You both will do nicely!"
"What?" both boys widened their eyes.
"As recruits, come work for me, you'll get food, coin, a home wherever the camp goes and I hope a new family with the company," James explained.
The brothers looked at one another, wordlessly contemplating the offer. They nodded their heads, and Stork cut their bindings. Then they embraced James as a new father, and joined other new recruits in meeting those whom began with the company. James saw the ideal company, formed of those whom worshipped red and black, but bound together out of a need for gold. He looked at the fire left by the cultists and then at the sky.
"Who is the most devote, the one willing to kill and die for his faith? Or he who is willing to live by his faith, to have faith and to be satisfied with his faith alone?" the man chuckled slightly.
He put a hand to his heart and closed his eyes. It was the rare instance when he would pray.
"For my family maker, watch over them and grant them happiness, for the dead maker, grant them passage to your side, to the unjust, grant them redemption, to the just, grant them peace
Next Chapter 5: Pursuit of heroism
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
Thought I would drop a bomb in this chapter with Revka's revelation. It gives a little more credence to the friendship she and Cersei have, for them to have the most important thing in common, their love for their children. I hoped I've showed it throughout the series:
Dayk was a womanizer, she forgives that and loves him anyway. Revion is not all there, but Revka loves him anyway. And this chapter reveals a fault of Daylen's he didn't even know of, the day he used blood magic was not actually the day he first used magic.
Speaking of Daylen: We return to Ferelden with Daylen and his group getting a Stone prisoner, and finally reaching Redcliffe, where not everything is safe. Battles with the Undead, conversations with companions, secret passage ways and unexpected reunions. Well, unless you've played the game, then you know what'll happen :)