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ACT I: ACROSS THE FACE OF THE WORLD
"When the horn is blown, and the flag unfurled,
When war comes nipping at ones' heel.
When the sun is high and the brave shall dare,
To show their courage with boldness and zeal.
The time has come, my countrymen, to loosen your swords,
To fight! To war! To join the Makers' side across the Veil.
Let them hear your voices back in Val Royeaux, my countrymen,
NO FREE MAN SHALL EVER KNEEL!"
- King Maric Therein, Battle of the River Dane, 8:99 Dragon
ARC I: COMING OF AGE
Lothering, Lothering Bannorn, Kingdom of Ferelden, Drakonis 1, Menesday 9:27 Dragon
Marian Amelia Hawke was finishing with her preparations for the long journey ahead.
Spring had come to the month of Drakonis upon the Bannorn of Lothering, winter having slowly loosened its grips upon southing Ferelden. The snow had melted well enough in the past few weeks, though the ground was still hard with lingering frost and ice, the time for planting having yet to come. The Drakon River was still rimmed with hoarfrost upon its banks, and the fishermen had yet to find good bites upon its banks, having yet to take the boats out to try the deeper waters as the snowmelt had swelled the river and made it a bit too perilous to test. But the warming weather that had taken away most of the snow had brought the people out of their homes and shelters that had them cooped up during the winter months, children bundled up and playing with the remaining snow while the adults looked over their homes for any repairs that might be needed while preparing for the coming planting season.
Not Marian. Marian wasn't a farmer. Nor was she the daughter of a farmer, either.
A team of wagons sat by the Old Imperial Highway, half-a-dozen stout and sturdy covered wagons stood ready each with half-a-dozen oxen harnessed in pairs, thirty-six of the castrated steers having been paired and harnessed to each of the wagons in teams of six. The day prior had been spent loading the wagons with dry foodstuff to make good of post-winter time when larders were at their lowest, not to mention embarking upon trade between the towns and cities of Ferelden. All six wagons had been filled before their canvas covers were tied off to keep the goods from getting soaked.
There were twenty drovers who were finishing with the preparations for the team of wagons; checking the harnesses and tongues upon the yokes, checking the hooves and bits of the steers, inspecting the cargo to make sure the barrels were lashed properly and lids secured. Marian, as this would be her first trip under the employ of the Dryden Brothers Mercantile Company, had one of the middle wagons, having loaded it with barrels and secured them with the help of the others, teaching her how to make proper knots and loading the barrels evenly so as not to tip the wagon when making a turn.
Wagon secured, she looked ahead to the lead wagon to where her Papa worked.
Malcolm Hawke had been working the wagon train every year for as long as the fifteen-summers old young woman could remember, making the trip during the seasons of both spring and autumn, usually taking around two to three months to complete. The owners of the company, Levi and Mikhael Dryden, had been delivering goods for years, a family business that had been going on for a couple generations as Marian understood it. All she really needed to know was that they constantly and consistently employed her Papa twice a year to bring money to their family, though that employment had her Papa gone for around part of the year. Still, it paid well enough to keep a family of five with a roof over their heads and food on the table.
This year, though, this year Marian would be joining on the wagon train that went around the Old Imperial Highway that looped around Ferelden. While she wouldn't be earning as much as her Papa did as this was her first year while her Papa had been doing it for well over a decade, the coin that she would bring in would help their family considerably.
Plus, she really didn't want to be a farmer.
Her job consisted of loading and unloading barrels and boxes of goods at the several points of trade the route would take for selling or buying by Master Levi when in the towns or cities where markets would make sales, and then in between her job would be to protect the wagons while also assisting the team on their journey for whatever duties were required. Her Papa had already let her know that, being her first time, she would likely get the least glamorous of jobs and the least enjoyable of duties. Marian understood that, having heard this on several occasions whenever she asked her Papa about his travels around Ferelden with the merchant company. So she would have to fetch water and shovel shite… like she did back at home. Hardly dissuading.
"Have everything ready?"
Marian turned to see her Papa there standing his armor, good solid red steel banded armor over a boiled-and-stiffened leather curiass. His arms, belly, and legs also had boiled-and-stiffened leather upon them with riveted studs as well. His armor as well as his gear was well-broken in and well-traveled, her Papa having taken good care of it. Along with his armor was a wooden disc shield, a good solid spear made of oakwood and steel, and a plain red-iron longsword on his hip. Despite what her Papa really was, none would mistaken what looked to be a wagoneer guardsman as oppose to an escaped Circle Apostate, having spent years working for the Dryden family as well as hunting some of the more remote areas of southing Ferelden for pelts and meat. Malcolm Hawke was tall, broad-shouldered, muscled with work and flesh tanned by the sun. Not at all what people assumed a former Circle Mage would look like.
"Aye, Papa. Got me gear ready." Marian replied, her haversack laying at her feet with extra clothes packed away on the inside, as well as extra socks, linens, village sandals, another surcoat and cloak for rain, and another pair of chevalier boots. Along with her traveling gear, she was also wearing a vest of boiled studded leather along with a wide leather belt over her belly for added protection. Along with being a porter for the wagon train, she was also a part of its defense. In one hand was an unstrung Ferelden Yew bow, its bowstring connected to the bottom post of the bow but the loop resting halfway down the top arm to keep the bowstring from accidentally snapping or from warping the wood of the bow. It was a good solid bow, made of yew, the wood planed by a bowyer before being soaked in brine for a few days prior to being bent into shape and left to dry.
As commanded by none other than the Silver King himself, King Calahad I Therein, all Fereldenmen were obliged to host arms in the defense of land and king should the need arise; it was part of Danelaw. It wasn't unusual to see spear or axe in the hands of travelers, practical weapons that could serve several purposes besides defense. Others weapons could be seen on travelers or about in a homestead; daggers, knives, perhaps a mace or a cudgel. When Marian started getting older, she wanted to join her Papa on his hunting trips south of Lothering where he hunted game for meat for both the family table as well as a few businesses in Lothering for meat and hide; technically it was poaching, but no one really enforced the rule unless one dragged in deer or elk. Her Papa had taught her how to use a bow, getting her a light one made of pine for her to practice with. She would bring down small game with it, getting coin for the meat and pelts, donating most of it to the family.
Now… now Marian was of age, having seen fifteen winters. By Danelaw, she was an adult now; old enough to serve in the Bannguard or in the militia, old enough to leave her family home and make her way in the world, old enough to get married. She had been saving up those coins she had earned by hunting small game and predator, copper pfarthing and silver shilling collected in a jar, waiting for the day she had saved enough to do what she dreamed of.
To go to Denerim and become a Knight of Ferelden!
This journey, and the coin that would come with it, was all a part of the plan. Not to mention she wouldn't be just some farmgirl with nothing to show for it. She could hunt and fletch her own arrows, she could read, write, and do sums better than just about everyone in Lothering thanks to her Mama and Papa, she could sew and tan hides, she even had some basic smithing skills making arrowpoints and straightening knives. Marian wanted to go to the capital and vie for the chance to become a knight herself, like Ser Aveline d'Vertoir! She knew no one would take her seriously if she were penceless, dumb as a bumpkin, didn't know how to use any kind of martial weapon, and hadn't done anything to show that she could prove that she was worth consideration.
Now Marian was of age. Now she could go forward with her dream. Now all she had to do was take this journey with the Dryden Brothers Merchant Company, travel all about Ferelden, collect her earnings (at a whopping fifteen shillings a day!), and gather her things for a trip to the capital city of Denerim.
With a nice two-month journey under her belt being a teamster guard for an establish merchantman, some experience under her belt, the young woman knew she could show her worth to someone interested in looking for quality. She would be much better off than most with a good deal of coin in per pocket, already owning a weapon and some armor, and being able to read, write, and do sums. The fifteen-year old figured the less basic stuff a Lord or Knight would have to teach her (like riding a horse, or Maker forbid teaching her how to count or read!) or provide for her, the better a prospect she would be. She knew some basic swordplay from her Papa, she could saddle and care for a horse, and she knew how to set snares and traps for game.
Ser Marian Hawke had… a rather nice ring to it.
Preparations were completed, and with the crack of a strop by Master Levi Dryden, the journey of a thousand leagues had begun.
The morning had come softly, still a bit of a chill in the air as Marian heard the creak of wagon wheels and the grunts of the oxen as the carts began to slowly roll forward, the lead drover Willard Mikkelsen giving the lead oxen's rump a taste of a leather strap to get the castrated steer moving forward. This caused the other oxen in the team to move forward as well, slowly pulling the ladened wagon they were attached to by yoke and harness to move forward, the wagon wheels slowly spinning as they rolled upon the ancient stones of the Old Imperial Highway. Willard moved down the line to get each of the rest of the five teams moving, strapping each of the lead oxen to get them to lumber ahead as the procession started.
Marian watched with some fascination as Willard walked by her wagon and gave one of the steers a good whip to the rump, making the horned bovine moo in protest as its hooves clopped against the stone road, pulling forward. Much like the three wagons in front of her own, the young woman saw her wagon move forward with a lurch, the creak of wood and the clopping of cloven hoof upon stone making a bit of a racket. As the wagon moved, so did she; Marian walked alongside the wagon with her bow in her left hand, still unstrung. The wagon wasn't moving very fast, about a walking pace after a bit, but the young woman remembered her Papa telling her that the carts weren't all that fast.
It didn't take very long, but Marian noticed that Lothering was passing by them… giving way to trees and Loch Lother to the north. They were officially on their way.
The Old Imperial Highway was something to behold, though Marian had knowing of it and even traveled upon it a few times with her Papa to go hunting or to another market for buying or selling. Walking upon its ancient stones that were set side-by-side well over a thousand years ago, it was sometimes hard to imagine that the Tevinter Imperium had built a stone road that went all over the Ancient Imperium before the First Blight.
Her Papa had told her the truth of it; the Highway had been built for troop movement so that the Imperial Army could move from one territory to the next with speed and supplies to suppress a populous that much quicker instead of hoofing it through a forest. The Highway literally went through every nation in all of the world, carving through the landscape and leading towards where towns and cities stood. If Marian wanted, she could take the Imperial Highway to Val Royeaux without ever setting foot on dirt. Maker, she could walk to Minranthos without going into the woods! That's what her Papa had told her, at least.
Marian tried to imagine the Highway being built as she walked by her wagon, her unstrung bow in hand as she looked to the south where Finmere Woods laid, keeping an eye out for any predators, four- or two-legged. Obviously, the Imperium had to employ woodcutters to clear out the trees and the stumps (and by employ, that meant slaves; it was the Imperium, after all!) to make the pathways where the Highway would go. Did someone just… look at the land and figure out where the best route was? Or the shortest distance? There was a spot just south of Lothering where the Highway was at least fifteen paces above the ground, ramps having been built to ascend to it… because the ground dipped where the Drakon River was and it was somehow easier to lay more stone to keep the Highway flat instead of putting more dirt under it or having it slope downward and upward. And where did all the bloody stones come from?
Marian looked at one stone in the Highway, seeing it to be bigger than her foot; a cubit wide by a cubit long… probably a cubit deep, too. It was as long and as wide as it was from her elbow to her fingertips. Maker's breath, she wondered how heavy it was, trying to imagine dozens of Imperial slaves hauling these stones and setting them one right after another… for leagues! Marian couldn't even begin to imagine just how many stones that was. There were just a couple dozen-dozens of them right where she walked!
The sound of the wooden wagon wheels rolling across the stone road, the clopping of hooves upon the surface of the Imperial Highway, the creaks of the wooden wagons and the voice of the men who, like Marian, had come along for the journey for the Dryden Brothers all came to the young woman as it really set upon her that… she would be doing just this for the next several week, about two months! She looked to the six oxen pulling the wagon along, the canvas cover tied over the barrels set inside the wagon's bed, the two other men who were apart of her wagons' team, Tobias and Broderick, walking on the other side of the wagon facing north and Loch Lother, the way her booted feet thudded against the stone highway…
…this was her life for the next couple months. Maybe even into Summerday in Bloomingtide.
Ye'll be doin' a lot more o' this when ye become a knight, the young woman reasoned with herself as she looked to the south again, the Highway butting against the edges of the Finmere Woods; the woods that her Papa would take her to go hunt game. Up ahead the Highway would split, one part continuing straight towards the Arling of Redcliffe and the city of Redcliffe itself, and the other part would turn south towards the Hinterlands and the old Imperial fort that curtained off the Korcari Wilds. Knights serve Bann an' King, go where their duty takes 'em. Of course, being a Knight, Marian wouldn't be walking all over the place, but riding on a steed. Maybe a good stout Forder, like her Papa's horse.
"Let th' eyes see, let th' mind wander. Eh, lass?"
Broderick FitzHugh. A part of her wagon team. A pain in her arse.
"As long as yer eyes are seein' out there an' yer mind wanderin' out there, Brock." Marian replied with as even a tone as she could muster, not even giving the man the courtesy of looking at him. Broderick had been working for the Drydens for… a year, maybe two. He was at least a decade older than she with a bit of an unhealthy pallor to his face, unkempt coppery hair spilling from his head, frazzled and knotted. While the armor he wore was in good condition and the spear and buckler that he had in his right hand was of good quality, his clothing was rather well-soiled for so early in the journey, stained with more than just travel. One look at his face, his mouth, really, was all one needed to know about Broderick and his… peculiarities. Deep within his mouth, one cheek slightly bulging outward, was a cud of hemp that he was chewing… right in front of her. His lips were stained brown from when he spat on the ground (which was frequently, and even in front of people!). His teeth were yellow and clogged with shreds of leafy matter. Plus the smell was more than off-putting; it had a rather tangy, sickly aroma to it. Hemp-chewing was disgusting.
That actually wasn't the worst quality he had. It was the most blatant, though.
"Brock! Put a lil' more hoof innem oxen!" That was Tobias macConnell, the team lead. Tobias had been working for the Drydens for years, maybe as long as her Papa had. He was about the same age as Marian's father, gray hairs peppering his head and his beard. Like most everyone on the teams, Marian knew Tobias well; they lived in the same town, they went to the same Chantry, they visited the same markets, and like most of the wagonmen, they worked for the same company. She had known Tobias since she was a little girl still in pigtails and shiftdresses, a hard-working man with a bit of gruffness but a soft side for children. Marian could still remember him putting flowers in her hair like a crown when she was a little girl and calling her Ladyhawke.
Brock grumbled a little as he spat out a wad of saliva onto the Highway, spittle dribbling down his lower lip as he wiped it away with his forearm before trekking over to the team of six oxen, giving the lead left steer a good thump with the butt of his spear to prod it into moving quicker. Honestly, their team was keeping up with the team ahead, perhaps only twenty paces ahead or so. Tobias wasn't getting Brock to make the team go faster.
Marian looked over to the other side of the wagon, over the yoked-and-harnessed oxen where macConnell walked, giving him an appreciated nod of her head. Tobias returned the nod with a wane smile. At least she wasn't the only one that thought Broderick was a pain in the arse. And she wasn't the only one that was going to have to deal with it, Bride be praised!
The journey continued on as the Finmere Woods fully took over the Highway on either side of the stone road, trees swallowing the sight of everything else save up ahead and what was behind. The Old Imperial Highway split the woods with its stone path as the six-wagon team traversed across its stony surface, trees practically butting the raised Highway, which stood a few paces above the forest floor. Marian looked at the woods with some trepidation, knowing their reputation.
Marian slipped the lower limb notch of her bow between her feet, gripping the upper limb and pulling it downward to compress the bow and bring the limbs closer together. Then with her left hand, she slipped the bowstring to the upper limb notch of her bow to make it ready. Finally, she slipped her right hand to the quiver at her right hip and pulled out a feathered arrow, slipping the cubit-long length of wood between riser and string, letting the arrowshaft rest on her front finger while putting the nock into the string, held between her first and second knuckle on her gloved hand. The arrow she had pulled from her right hip quiver had a broadhead that was perpendicular to the nock of the arrow. Broadheads that were in line with the nock end of an arrow, where it rested in the string, were meant for creatures with vertical ribcages; animals and beasts and other four-legged creatures.
The one she had was meant for creatures with horizontal ribcages. It was meant to kill men.
The Finmere Woods were a thick conifer forest of pines and furs, the trees towering majestically into the sky. It was an old wood, its trees too thick to cut down by any conventional mean and many of the trees too tall to haul away to the nearest mill to split. Pine boughs and fir branches grew wide and thick from the thick trunks, blotting out the sky even over the Old Imperial Highway, putting everything in a soft gloom.
Marian tittered at the diffused sunlight, making it a little more difficult to see further into the woods, which was hopeless to see much further than a couple dozen paces or so thanks to the thick trunks and the underbrush that struggled to grow under the oppression of the towering titans. These woods Marian knew well enough; it was here that she and her Papa would hunt, trap, and skin game. But like any location that there was prey, there were also predators in these woods such as forest wolves, bobcats, and of course black bear.
Those weren't the only predators in the Finmere Woods, and not all predators walked on four legs.
Marian walked beside the ox wagon as she kept her eyes open and looking to her left to the south, where trees practically butt against the old stone road, not even any clearing between path and wood. There was always stories of lowmen who haunted travelers in these woods along the Imperial Highway, preying upon those who used the ancient stone pathway to go east or west, robbing them of whatever they had… or worse. Being so close to Lothering, it was a good spot for hunting in that sense, and the woods were dense. A few times a year there were stories that someone was preyed upon in the Finmere Woods; a small collection of travelers, merchants like the Dryden brothers, perhaps a couple of farmers with a cart and a donkey trying to take advantage of Lothering's market square. If there were any individuals who took the Highway and tried crossing through the woods on their own… a few had done so and made it, usually with tales of narrowly escaping men who hunted people.
His Honor Bann Binet Ouvrard, the Bann of the Lothering Bannorn, had sent his Banngard and a few members of the Lothering Bannorn Militia into the Finmere Woods to look for the group that haunted travelers on more than a few occasions, all without success. The dense woods were a perfect place for a group to ambush unsuspecting travelers, the density hiding their approach as well as giving them a convenient way to melt back into the woods. The thick underbrush made it difficult to track, and it was easily possible to pass within fifty paces or so of a small encampment of men in those woods being none-the-wiser. The bandits (or whatever they were) weren't caught not because of incompetence on the behalf of the Banngard, but because the Finmere Woods were perfect for that sort of thing.
Which was why Marian had strung her bow, had an arrow at the ready, and had her eyes on her side of the forest.
The team of oxen and men continued their travels along the Old Imperial Highway cleaving through the Finmere Woods, the rustling sound of the leaves on the wind and the chirping of birds accompanying the walk. The fifteen-year old woman kept her eyes open and vigilant as she walked alongside her wagon, keeping her gaze to the south as they continued. Marian knew the easting parts of these woods well enough, having gone with her Papa to hunt when she was younger and having done it by herself last autumn while Papa was traveling with the Drydens across Ferelden to take advantages of the last trading months before winter set in. She could easily see how a group of bandits could hide out in the woods for months, perhaps even years, if they played it wise. Maker knew how many there were or where they were located, but it was sadly well-known local knowledge that the Finmere was plagued with ambushers and raiders.
There was a reason why the Drydens had so many people working for them to deliver goods throughout Ferelden, more than just loading and off-loading cargo. There had never been a trip that her Papa had told her about where they hadn't been accosted by people looking to make a quick grab. It seemed like most every trip he had ever gone to, there was something like half-a-dozen incidences where anything from a few ragged wenches to sometimes an entire troupe of bandits (or others) coming to assault the merchantmen for the goods loaded in the back of the wagons (or the entire thing; oxen, wagon, and goods). Traveling in Ferelden, sadly, was dangerous.
It was why Marian approached Malcolm Hawke about the thought of joining the merchantman, her Papa knowing well her skills with a bow. She just… had that knack that made her one of the best archers in all of Lothering Bannorn. Maker's Breath, she had won the Lothering archery competition the previous two years in a row, sponsored by as well as attended by Bann Binet Ouvrard. Last year, she had proved herself the finest archer in the Lothering Bannorn again amongst thirty competitors, taking home eighteen Pounds! Eighteen whole Fereldenweight Gold Crowns! That was more than half-a-year's wage for the common Fereldenman! The whole family had been there to see her compete in the annual Summerday Festival held in mid-Bloomingtide, cheering her on as Marian, once again the youngest competitor and the only woman, had out-shot twenty-nine others two years in a row. She had spent the summer trying to get her Papa to let her come with him with the Drydens, and he had eventually relented with one objection; that she could do so if she were of age.
Her Feastday was in the month of Harvestmere, in which the company had left the month prior during Kingsway. So Marian had waited throughout autumn and winter for the day she could take her first steps towards what she wanted to do with her life. She hunted game in the autumn to keep her skills sharp, she fletched her own arrows as well as sharpened and tied her own arrowpoints, she fashioned several quivers during the winter from the hides of game she had taken. She had spent the winter preparing for this trip, to prove to both herself and her Papa that she could do so.
Marian continued to watch the woods to the south, noting the normal forest noise over the sound of clopping hooves on stone, the creak of the wooden wheels and axles of the wagons, the rumbling of the wooden wheel riding upon the Highway, the occasional grunt or moo from the oxen. She could hear the chittering of birds, the sight of small game frolicking in the woods, squirrels dashing to and from. The sight of such game, what might have had her bagging a few if she were out hunting, was a reassuring one. Such creatures would flee from the sight or smell of a predator or hunter, or would be spooked and look to find an ambush in wait. Seeing birds flying between branches and squirrels moving from trunk to ground in search of food said that things were normal. Oh, Marian would stay vigilant, but there were ways to tell even in the dense woods if something were amiss.
The team of oxen, wagons, and men moved through the Finmere Woods at a steady pace as the sun slowly moved through the sky from east to west, slowly approaching overhead as its light was shattered by leaves and branches of the forest. Based upon the length of the shadows playing on the Old Imperial Highway, the young woman figured it was starting to head towards midday. She knew from her father that the daily excursions would have a small break for both the animals and the merchantmen, a chance to grab a spot to each and check over the animals while adding grass and hay to their face troughs. Likely that would happen after they passed through the Woods, where they could see anyone approaching them. A team was most vulnerable when halted, her Papa told her, and places such as the Finmere Woods was almost an invite for something bad to incur if they did anything else other than continue moving through.
The chattering of woodland creatures and the chirps of songbirds sounded as if everything was normal, and the few that Marian could see didn't seem to be looking in a particular direction in wariness or alarm.
As the teams moved down the Imperial Highway, the thickness of the Woods began to wane, the space in between trees opening up as the thick underbrush became less dense. Marian found herself seeing deeper into the Finmere Woods as the ambient light increased while the canopy of pine branches became less severe, less restricting. No longer were the trees practically butting the stone path that the merchant company used, shading its existence from the sun as fewer trees grew alongside it, no longer growing so close to one another. They continued their way west as the woods continued to become more spacious and the young woman found herself able to look deeper and deeper into the forest until it didn't seem so much a forest as it did a series of groves with stretches of land in between.
They had made it through the Finmere Woods without incident.
It was around midday when the wagon train made it way to the side of the Imperial Highway to a large clearing where the six-wagon team plus its oxen and drovers could stop for a spell for a bite to eat and to check the teams.
Marian was checking on the oxen, looking at the harnesses that encircled their torsos to connect them to the tongue of the wagon, looking at the yoke that was fitted over their shoulders for any 'hot' spots where chaffing or abrasions might be present. Without the oxen the team would never reach their destination, so it was good to check on them and to make adjustments as necessary; tighten a leather strap here, loosen another one there, check on the hooves for any stuck rocks. Each of the oxen had on its muzzle a grazing feeder bag filled with grass, oats, and barley, letting the animals eat without detaching them and letting the graze at pasture. Maker knew that would probably take a good deal of time; loosening the harnesses, slipping off the yoke, letting the oxen wander and eat to their content only to tug them back to the wagons to reattach them. Aye, that would be what the drovers would be doing for the evening, but from sun-up to sundown, the oxen would stay harnessed. It just made sense.
"How are you doing, sweetheart?"
Marian looked over to see her Papa approaching with a kerchief of hardtack biscuits in one hand and some dried salted pork in the other; her lunch. The young woman patted the oxen she was closest to, having already gone over the straps for wear-and-tear and the oxen for any chaffing or rub burns as she smiled at her father.
"Good thin' ye've taken me huntin' on many an occasion, Papa." Marian told her father as she accepted the lunch from him. "All that walkin' an' trackin' put me in good shape. I'd be dead on me feet by now if I weren't use t' this." She took a bite of the hardtack, made by her mother; Mum always did put a little sugar in the twice-baked cracker biscuits to make them a little easier to enjoy. "Good boots also help."
"That it does." Her father replied with a smile. Papa had been working for the Drydens' for years, and had stories of the things he had done and the places he had seen. Marian had wanted to be a part of that journey for several reasons, and a chance to work with her father had certainly been something she had been looking forward to. "About what you thought it would be?"
"Still th' first day, Papa. Feels more like we're off huntin' than travelin' f'r now." Marian replied as she took a bite of hardtack. "That'll probably change after t'morrow or th' next day, or maybe when we visit our first town or city."
"Well, with the rate we're going, we'll reach Kyless or Caer Calon easily enough before nightfall." Marian had tracked leagues around Lothering hunting small game and predators, hired by local farmers and herders to keep some of the vermin and beasts from getting into their livelihood. A bit of coin hunting, a bit of coin for the meat and fur, some trappings and extra game meant the Hawkes generally had a dinner table that was well-provided, pickings from the family garden tended by Mum, Carver, and Bethany while Marian brought in coin and market goods traded for animal meat or skins. When Papa wasn't droving, he did carpentry work around the town for those who needed an extra hand or making furniture or cabinets. The young woman knew that their family was rather well-to-do, the Maker blessing those who put good work and good efforts in what they did. But for all of Marian's rangings, she had never been farther than the local villages of Usktarn to the west or Cathing to the south, about a half-day's walk from Lothering for hiring or selling to different markets and people for her game.
Caer Calon was where a completely different Bann lived, the Bann of Calon. Bann Nigel Alfenferd? Marian couldn't remember for certain. But she was looking forward to seeing a brand-new Caer.
"How lon' will we be in Redcliffe?" Redcliffe was the largest city in westing Ferelden, at least that's what she always heard. It was difficult for Marian to contain the hope and excitement in her tone at the thought of visiting a city! Especially Redcliffe! True, it was in a completely different Arling (Lothering fell under Arl Leonas Bryling's banners, the Arl of South Reach), but the thought of visiting a city like Redcliffe was enchanting. Marian had heard that Caer Redcliffe was built on a mountain! She wanted to see that! The thought must have been evident as her Papa laugh good-naturedly and smiled at her.
"At least a full day. Perhaps two depending on water merchants." Malcolm replied. "We'll unload what needs to be unloaded and load what needs to be transported, watch over the wagons, goods, and teams. But there'll be time to visit." Oh, Marian was definitely looking forward to that! "Go ahead and finish your lunch, sweetheart. We've still got leagues in front of us to walk."
Author's Notes: A super-huge shout out goes to artist RuBecSo on DeviantArt for creating the highly detailed map of Ferelden that has towns, the name of Bannorns, roads, rivers, mountains, trees… the works. I used it extensively for this story and the names of locations when canon wasn't involved. You can find it in DeviantArt and see what I was working with. There is also an Orlais and Marcher map as well.
As Dragon Age is set in medieval times, I use a lot of old-school Old World rules… such as 'adult age'. While it wasn't exactly written down and codified into law, for many adult age was around 14-16 depending on the culture. Remember that in Jewish Law adult age is 13 (still true today). What do you think Sweet Sixteens and Quinceaneras are for, stuffing girls in wedding-like dresses?
For a period of history, I went with 1500's/Tudor England, King Henry VIII's time minus all those wacky divorces and spousal executions. So in terms of technology and dress, I'm going with about mid-16th Century.
In 9:30 Dragon when we first meet the Hawkes, Garrett/Marian are probably around 21-24… and still living with their mother? In the Old World, they would already be married and have a few kids (likewise, most likely Carver would as well while poor Bethany would have gotten the seamstress/old maid title for being 19 without a couple kids and no husband). I reduced Marian's age to something a little more appropriate without being weird, including Old World rules (see above) that would go with that kind of thinking. This means that in 9:30 Dragon during the Battle of Ostagar, Carver and Bethany are 15… adults in Ferelden (as Carver was in the Lothering Militia).
£SD Monetary System - Ah, Englishmen, chuckle at us Americans for this; I brought back the old (and somewhat confusing) pound, sterling, pence system that was the Carolingian monetary system that existed before decimalization. For Americans and those born in England after the 1960's, there is 12 Pence to a Shilling, and 20 shillings (240 pence) to a Pound. I noticed that jobs and 'helps' would get you about 50 silver (now shillings or sterling), so I equal that to a week's wage. Not that there's a 'minimum wage' law in Ferelden, but that equals 1s3d (1 shilling and 3 pfarthings/pence) for an hour's work for the manual labor jobs (meaning you get 12 shillings and a sixpence a day for a 10 hour work day, and 3 pounds and 15 shillings a week for a six day work week). And this is what I'm going to be basing the economy off of for things like buying food, getting a beer, or buying that sweetsweet two-handed skullcrusher. Based upon the basic Tier I Longsword (priced at 15 silver from Mr. Ostegar Merchant) and then a cheap fantasy sword one can get on Amazon (about $50 for a no frills non-likeness longsword made out of cheap steel and probably press-manufactured), a pence is the equivalent of $0.27, a shilling is $3.33, and a pound is $66.60.
The Imperial Highway (which you see in Lothering in DAO) I very much liken to the ancient Roman Highways, in which there is a quarter of a million miles of it, stretching from as far southeast as Thebes, Egypt to Hadrian's Wall in England/Scotland. And it was for speedy governance, trade, war, and oppression.
Hemp-chewing - Like dipping but with hemp/marijuana. Same principle, but now with more THC. Snuff (smokeless tobacco) will also be a part of this story, as well as regular tobacco.
I mention that a broadhead (which is a flat arrowhead, and not the three or four-pointers we see today) being in-line or parallel with the nock (the slivered end of an arrow) is meant for creatures with horizontal ribs (so, us and primates). Arrows do not spin in flight as the fletchings give it stability (heavier-than-air flight) and I gleaned this tidbit from a book written sometime in the 16-17th century when bows were still used as weapons of war.
Poaching and Hunting - while most of us know what poaching is (illegal game hunting), back in the Old World the hunting of game was generally restricted to Game Wardens (an authorized huntsman). The hunting of small game (such as rodents) would have been allowed, as well as the hunting and trapping of predators (cougars, foxes, wolves) to protect livestock. But the hunting of big game (the deer family, some others) would have been illegal as they were all generally the Lord's/Noble's game. This might have applied to fowl (such as duck, goose, pheasant) as those are generally 'higher' end meats (duckmeat today is still considered a 'refined' meal meant for the wealthy). One of the principle industries in 16th and 17th Century America was the fur trade; the game was legal to hunt, the meat legal to sell, and the skins legal to trade in (see New France, the fur trade in America, how the beaver almost went extinct and the passenger pigeon actually did by about 1880). In this, Marian is a small game hunter, trapper, and predator-hunter, not a poacher.
His Honor Bann Binet Ouvrard, the Bann of Lothering - His Honor is the honorific for Banns, but you might notice that the name is… decisively French/Orlesian. During the Orlesian Occupation, several noble families had been wiped out by le Duc l'Ferelden and replaced by lackies, puppets, or sycophants. Originally, the King of Ferelden, Vanedrin Theirin, lost the Battle of Lothering that marked the beginning of the Orlesian Occupation, dying in battle or of his wounds in 8:24 Blessed. In my mind, the local Bann would have been riding alongside the king, and the family replaced or wiped out by the occupying Orlesian forces with perhaps a noted/heroic chevalier or a minor Orlesian nobleman's second/third/fourth son. Thus, the Ouvrard family. After more than an age of being the Banns of Lothering, they are fully Ferelden. (This I'm likening to the lands of Brittany, the once English-owned lands of France whose nobility were… well, English lineage).
Hardtack - Developed sometime around the 12th Century, hardtack is bread/biscuit/crackers that have been baked several times over for dryness; it was meant for a long-term storage food source. I have actually seen hardtack dating from the Civil War that still hadn't gone to pot, so to speak, about the size of a piece of naan and probably as hard as a brick. The British use to dole these out to their sailors during the Age of Sails at 14oz a day, stored in barrels, along with salted pork, dried beans, jerky beef, and thrice-baked potatoes. The nickname 'Limey' comes from the lime juice they put into the water and grog (mostly water with a bit of rum mixed in) to not only keep it from spoiling, but also to prevent scurvy (lack of Vitamin C).
I know I go into the dangers of traveling and don't have some sort of attack despite that I go into detail about the Finmere Woods. I'm not 100% certain how rife banditry was back in the medieval world, and I'm not going to rely on Hollywood movies or video games to make that up for me. A team of around 20 armed people sounds like a bad case of dumb decision-making to attack, but then again banditry and piracy did exist and fools will be fools. Instead of there being attacks at every turn (or chapter), I slotted the story in periods and rolled dice to see if there would be an attack and when; it could be near a city or out in the middle of nowhere, back-to-back or a week apart. I think the randomness of it is more realistic as well as making me focus more on making a story and plot instead of actionactionaction with little lulls of dialog in between.
Yes, as Marian is from 'the south', and living in a large farming/fishing community, I made her talk like a hick or a country bumpkin. It's harder to write that way, but it will fit with her character and how others perceive her later in the story.