09- A New Storyteller in Ferelden
They arrived at The Spoiled Princess Inn next to the Circle Tower the next midday. Duncan went inside and arranged rooms for them while the Lothering group, Ser Irminric and Curator Justine went across the lake to the tower. It was on a lonely island. The bridge was destroyed long ago by the looks of it. A friendly gentleman named Kester took the Chantry folk and Bethany across in his boat, Lizzy. There was only one room left for the three Wardens and Mari. It was large, though. Ardoc insisted upon sleeping on the floor next to the warm fireplace. The room was nice with two double beds, matching hand-sewn quilts were on the beds and it had a good-sized wash stand. No baths here. Once everyone was situated with regards to sleeping arrangements, they went downstairs for some stew.
The Spoiled Princess was night and day different from the Snowdrift. Of course, the Satinalia season had long passed. The patrons were less raucous, but still spirited and friendly enough.
Duncan walked up to the Innkeeper and Mari followed. He ordered bread, cheese, stew and ale for the Wardens. Mari smiled at the Innkeeper. "Why did you call the place The Spoiled Princess?" she asked him.
The innkeeper was about Duncan's age and had longish dark hair. The most striking things about him were his kind eyes and nice smile. While he was wiping down the bar, he answered, "My father always called my sister his little princess. One day, she got tired of the quiet life here and went off to Denerim for more excitement. Shortly after, we got word that she had been robbed and killed. Father died of heartbreak and Mother quit eating. I inherited the place. Lucky me. The name seemed to fit so I kept it." It was a well-rehearsed tale, she could tell. With a half-smile, he asked, "Sorry you asked?"
She chuckled. "No, actually. I love tales and stories. The true ones, the ones that tug on the heart, are my favorite. I'm sorry for your losses, but you appear to be doing a fine job taking up the mantle of Innkeeper."
He smiled broadly and poured her a glass of wine. "On the house, m'lady. I, too, enjoy good tales. Know any?"
"Yes, Mari, you mentioned that you write stories," Duncan said with a grin. "Let's hear one."
She narrowed her eyes at Duncan for calling her on the carpet, but then smiled. "Let's see," she said as she walked to the middle of the room. "How about a tale I've been working on after studying about Ferelden history. This is a story of bravery that begins with great sadness.
"Long, long ago, a young lad grew up as many lads did and still do. His father taught him how to be a man and his mother trained him how to love, how to respect, how to be considerate of others.
"However, the world when he came of age got increasingly angry. You see, trees had been chopped down. The animals had been hunted until there were fewer left from the plentiful forests and plains before. The rains came less frequently, but when they did come, it was with horrible, terrifying storms causing floods across the treeless plains. Winter became unbearably cold and summer became an inferno. Family took up arms against family to keep what little was left for themselves … even burning down farmlands and orchards and towns and cities.
"One day, the lad looked on in horror as his parents were slaughtered. Even though he was considered a man by then, he cried and ran and ran and ran away.
"Just as the young man was about to give in to despair, he met a knight. The knight's armor was shiny and new. His steed was white and proud. The giant sword he had unsheathed was the finest blade the young man had ever seen.
"'Why are you running?' the knight asked. 'Is danger near?'
"The young man told him that all was lost. It was gone. Destroyed. There was no reason to go on.
"'There is always a reason to go on, lad,' the knight said. When the young man asked him what that reason was, the knight sheathed his sword, slipped off the horse and led it with the reins. 'We have the responsibility to make tomorrow a better day. Come with me for a time and let's see this world of yours.'
"So, they walked back the way the young man had run. It didn't take long to run into the highwaymen who had killed his parents. 'Come along peacefully, boy, and we'll letcha live,' their leader said with a smirk on his face. A full dozen armed men surrounded the lad and the knight. They all shared the same smirk … at first. The young man thought they weren't already attacking because of the obvious considerable might of the knight.
"In reality, it was the look of determination on the young man's face.
"'Take a long look at these men, lad,' the knight said. 'Tell me what you see.' The young man was petrified at first, not wanting to even move, but determined not to run again.
"'I see the men who killed my parents and took our stores and our land,' he replied.
"'Look behind the smirks, lad," the knight asked. 'What do you see?'
"At first, the young man just quickly looked at them … until one of them looked down in shame. Then, the young man took another look into their eyes. He saw desperation under the smirk. He saw loss in their eyes. He saw torment, anguish, despair … guilt. The young man turned to the leader and said, 'You do this because you think there is no other way.'
"The knight smiled.
"The leader just laughed evilly, but not all of his men joined in.
"'If there were another way, could we fix this? Could we make tomorrow better?' the young man asked, remembering what the knight had told him.
"'There is no other way. Might makes right! Take him to work our farms!' the leader said while pulling his sword. It appeared that he had said those words before and clearly expected his men to obey. A few did not.
"One of the highwaymen stepped in front of the leader. 'What harm would it do to listen? I'm tired of being hungry. Killing everyone who used to work these fields isn't filling my belly,' he said to the leader. At first, it looked like the leader was just going to cut his own man down, then others in the group asked the same question: What would it hurt to listen?
"The young man remembered something his father once told him. He shared it with the highwaymen. 'A man needs a blade for defense and it's important to learn to defend yourself, your family, your lands. A blade lifted in despair, a blade used in anger only leads to more despair and anger. Instead, let's all sheathe our blades and talk. We can plan how to fix this land. As long as we live, as long as we can replace our despair with hope, we can … find a way.'
"No one died that day. The following days saw many arguments and discussions, but the young man's determination to make things work kept anger from turning into rage. They adopted the line, 'Find a way!' Those three small words stopped arguments. They calmed rising anger. They turned despair to hope. Slowly, slowly the farms were divided among the survivors. The herds started to increase. The land responded. The forests saw new trees sprout. The storms were less frequent and lasted fewer days. The small group turned into a large group over the many years that the young man lead his people from despair to hope."
Mari raised her hands. "Ahlnac sonde mak!" She lowered her hands and added, "That's old Alamarri for 'Find a way!' Did that young man invent the phrase, or did he learn it from his father, his father's father, all his ancestors? Ferelden has been here a very long time. You see the Bannorn all around you? The young man was no one anyone remembers but his guidance built Ferelden back from the ashes of near annihilation. There is always hope here. They found a way. Ahlnac sonde mak!"
Before the patrons could fully respond to the story, she raised a finger and added, "Oh yes, one other matter. The knight? Now, that was a strange thing. No one ever recalled seeing a knight on a mighty white steed. But, to the young man, the knight was always there. Just like our bravery is always there. We just need to listen."
Then, she bowed and patrons actually applauded her. She was shocked. She had no idea she had it in her to tell tales verbally. However, she did have to laugh at the Wardens who all sat there with broad smiles like they couldn't believe she had it in her, either. That's when she noticed Ser Hadley along with a unknown Templar standing at the door. Hadley wasn't clapping, but he wasn't frowning either. Next to them was an older man in robes.
Duncan turned to look where Mari was looking. "Irving! Greagoir! Please join us."
The older Templar, who must have been Greagoir, gave Mari a half-smile as he walked over. "Last I heard, good storytelling was not blood magic. Therefore, I join Tavish and Irminric in apologizing about the attack on the Wardens in Denerim. Hadley?"
Hadley's face was flushed, but not with anger. He seemed truly embarrassed. "Warden Andwn, Storyteller Marisia, I am truly sorry for my over-reaction in Denerim. I hope you can forgive me."
"Of course, we forgive you," Andwn said as he handed Hadley a mug of ale. "The ale is particularly good tonight."
"Thank you, Warden," Hadley said as he set the mug back down on the table. "However, I cannot stay and I am on duty. I only wished to offer my apology as soon as I could. Ser Tavish and Ser Irminric set me straight. And, my brief time at the Circle has opened my eyes." He nodded and left.
The older man in robes, who must have been Irving, walked over to Mari. "Your tale was a very good one. It would seem Thedas has been blessed with a new storyteller of some skill," he said as he shook her hand.
"Thank you, First Enchanter," Mari said while still beaming from the the acceptance.
Then, he turned to Andwn. "Add my apologies to the rest, Warden. That action was completely uncalled for. However, I do believe that Ser Hadley is sincere."
"A couple of the Circle's more strict Templars were in Denerim awaiting transfer to Val Royeaux and they maliciously told Ser Hadley that Tavish would take too long." Greagoir had to take a moment to calm himself.
"In this case, I am uncertain they will receive the punishment they deserve," Irving explained. "Lately, I count Lord Seeker Lambert among those more strict of the Chantry. They'll likely get a promotion. A shame the Lord Seeker has hardened so."
"But, it sounds like the troublemakers are gone now and Ser Hadley may just turn out to be a valued Templar of the Order," Duncan said.
Greagoir raised an eyebrow. "Now, I'll need to deal with you making trouble for me, Warden-Commander. Please come back to the tower with us and we can discuss your request for a new Warden mage, as well as stealing Ser Bryant."
Duncan smiled. "I'm glad I was eating during the early part of Mari's story. Do not wait up for me," he told Mari and the other Wardens.
"Knight-Commander, First Enchanter, I would like to visit the tower sometime, if that would be all right," Mari asked. "Not right now, of course," she added with a smile.
"I think we could arrange something tomorrow, Mari." Greagoir looked toward Irving. "Perhaps Wynne might have the time to show Mari around?"
"Depends if she wins her argument with you this evening, Greagoir," Irving chuckled.
As Greagoir only grunted, the three left the tavern and headed out. Mari sat back at the table.
"I warmed your stew for you, Mari," the Innkeeper said. "It was a grand story. Thank you so much. Some of the patrons have paid for your meal, Wardens!"
Ardoc stood. "That is very kind. May I pay for another round of drinks for you all, then?"
An exuberant "Aye!" was followed by quiet patrons turning into friends who enjoyed their night. An older man shared a tale of his time with King Maric in the rebellion and some of the tables talked about their farms, wondering if their ancestors worked with the young man from Mari's tale … they wondered if the lad was an ancestor of Calenhad Theirin.
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Unbeknownst to everyone in the tavern, two birds sat in the ventilation slit at the top of the wall behind the bar. Theoretically, with Ferelden's windy nights and days, it helped to draw excess smokiness out of the tavern. There were shutters on the outside for those nights when the winds would just make it colder inside. That night they were open. Once the conversations died down and travelers made their way to their rooms, the two birds flew away.
They circled an already prepared campsite and landed, reforming into Solas and Flemeth.
Solas chuckled. "Ahlnac sonde mak! I think that may be a good rallying cry for us as well when the time comes to reunite the elves. I doubt anyone will know it's really old Alamarri."
"Find a way … three small words that could save a world," Flemeth mused as she hit the wood in the firepit with a thread of fire.
Solas paced a moment. "After following through Denerim to here, I wish to talk to her, but now is likely not the best time."
"I could tell you wanted to put a crushing prison on that Templar in Denerim," Flemeth laughed. "Your feathers were bristling. Good thing you didn't. Marisia needed to see all sides of the Chantry."
"Life for elves and mages must change in Thedas," Solas said quietly as he got out leftover food and warmed it by the fire. "I wonder if Mari's world once had magic, but it was slowly destroyed and replaced by this technology she speaks about. Perhaps magic and technology cannot exist at the same time. We must … ahlnac sonde mak."
Flemeth chewed her food and looked thoughtfully at Solas. "Are you going to continue to follow her?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "It's not a very productive use of my time until I can make actual contact with the woman. I still need to adjust and rebuild my own power from all those years in uthenera. I need to work with my foci and rebuild it's capacity … at least, I can when I find a safe place to do that." He smiled at Flemeth. "I needed someone powerful enough and trustworthy enough to help me do that … before I turned to someone only powerful enough who would likely betray me."
"Where do you plan to stay? Call home?" Flemeth asked.
"I don't know that either," he said. "The mirror at the bottom of that lake near the village of Solas isn't very handy. And, it was a long journey over land and sea to get here. I foresaw the Blight happening here in Ferelden. I suppose I need to find a working Eluvian here. I've stored what little I have in the Crossroads in a hidden tower with no working Eluvians. However, running into the dwarf has me worried about the safety of all that."
"Stay with me and Morrigan," Flemeth said. "We live in a nondescript hut in the Korcari Wilds in the south. It has a hidden passage to an underground dwelling. We have two extra rooms. You may have one until you're ready to move on."
"Wards against the darkspawn?" Solas asked.
"Of course," she said. "There is an Eluvian to the north of the Warden's Soldiers Peak fortress." She paused a moment. "A place called Drake's Fall. At least, I think it's still there. I haven't used it in a while. I prefer flight with my dragon form. We can take that one to an Eluvian in the Brecilian Forest. It's a flight of a day or so from the hut. Will your things fit into our shifting packs?"
"Likely," he said. "I don't have much left." He turned to her. "Are you sure, Mythal?"
She laughed. "Well, we can at least put your things away safely and give it a trial run. Morrigan may cause you to run for the hills. Maybe that Maker's Table rock. Actually, that may be a good place to move to someday for all of us mages who practice shapeshifting. The Chantry has a tendency to try to round up mages after a catastrophe."
Solas gave her a rare smile. "Thank you, my friend. I wish to watch Mari until they leave the mage prison, then we can make our way to your hut."
"Then, that is what we shall do," Flemeth said. "I also have reason to visit the Circle tower. I think that book the Templars once stole from me is in the First Enchanter's office, probably in a chest somewhere. Put up the wards and we can go to sleep."
She slept in her small tent after banking the fire while Solas put up wards to keep anyone and any thing from even noticing they were there. He also had a handy addition to his ward that kept out the bitter Ferelden cold. She was glad to have rekindled her old friendship with Fen'Harel, but Mythal whispered that uthenera could sometimes change the ancient elves. Time would tell, Flemeth supposed.
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Duncan must have slipped into the room much later that night. No one realized he had even returned until they awoke in the morning. Mari, Andwn and Ardoc quietly got dressed, packed saddlebags and backpacks and slipped out to get some breakfast … which was delicious! Scrambled eggs made with fresh eggs and freshly-baked bread along with a side of smoked pork, too thick to call it bacon. Mari got a mug of something called redberry juice, kinda tasted sweet with a tang … like cranberry juice. She asked about orange juice. The Innkeeper gave an odd look at her question, then he told her about an orange fruit from orchards way north, but they couldn't get it down south. After asking about climates, it seemed like Thedas was really a continent in the southern hemisphere of the planet they were on. Warm in the north. Cold in the south. No one here had mentioned the word "planet" yet, so Mari just kept that to herself for now.
As luck would have it, just as Mari got about half of her breakfast eaten, Greagoir walked into the tavern to stricken looks of surprise on the Wardens' faces. He looked at the Wardens eating breakfast and laughed. "Please finish your breakfast, Marisia, and then I'd like to take a walk and speak of some things with you." He turned to the Innkeeper. "Do you have any milk this morning, Schmidt?" Mari thought that name sounded out of place for Thedas, based on other names she had heard so far. Plus, it was her friend Phil's last name.
"Indeed, I do, Knight-Commander!" he said as he motioned for the dwarf waitress to get one.
"Please sit and join us, Greagoir," Andwn said.
"Thank you. I hope everyone slept well. I take it we kept the Warden Commander up past his bedtime last night." Greagoir chuckled as he sat down. His mug of milk was set in front of him.
"None of us heard him arrive and he didn't even move as we dressed and snuck out," Ardoc said.
Then, Greagoir's visage turned serious. "Sadly, it looks like the Chantry has lost an exemplary Templar. Damn darkspawn." He leaned into the table and whispered. "Duncan told us all about the Joining and how dangerous it is. Bryant had no choice as he would prefer that to death as a ghoul. However, it surprisingly convinced Anders that he would rather live in a tower than fight darkspawn all his life … or whatever would be left of it."
Mari swallowed her last bite of bacon and eggs and said, "You know, I've been thinking about something a healer might be interested in … especially one who gets so tired of life in a tower. Have you ever considered opening a hospital … eh, healing clinic … in Kinloch? Staffed by non-mage healers and staff as well as rotating healing mages and Templars to avoid alarming some of the public?"
"Anders brought that up last night, actually, Marisia," Greagoir explained. "A number of years ago, some Templars traveled around to nearby farm-holds to gauge how the people would feel. At the time, they were all very much against it." He shrugged. "Or, at least, that's how the report read. I agreed to repeat the survey and see if people today would be more amenable to it." He looked at Andwn. "That will have to wait until we check out Soldier's Peak, however."
"Well, I, for one, would definitely vote in the positive for a magic healers clinic, Knight-Commander," Innkeeper Schmidt said. "We've had some serious injuries over the recent months … kitchens and stables are dangerous places. They took too much time to heal without magic. I know of at least some of the farm-holders who would agree with me come planting. Of course, there will always be those against it … but, then, they do not need to use the service if they don't want to use it."
Andwn finished the last of his bread and cheese and said, "We ran into a family on the way here who would not be interested … and, to be honest, would be very vocal against it."
"I agree, Andwn, but once the clinic is up and running and word gets out that serious lacerations and burns can be quickly healed so workers can get back to the fields, their arguments may begin to fall on deaf ears," Mari said. Then, she turned to Greagoir. "Breakfast consumed, Knight-Commander. Let me run up and grab my cloak, and then shall we take that walk and talk?"
Greagoir smiled and stood. Mari went to the room and knocked quietly.
"Enter," Duncan said. "I'm almost ready to get some breakfast."
Mari entered. "Ah, I think we ate it all, Commander." He was just strapping on his back sheath for his daggers while Mari grabbed her cloak. "Greagoir wants to 'talk' to me, outside, in private."
Duncan chuckled. "He mentioned last night that he wanted to hear your personal story from you. Feel free to tell him anything you would tell me. He can be reasonable. He'd better be since Anders backed out."
Mari draped on her cloak. "I had the feeling that you were becoming ambivalent about Anders, as in not worth the hassle with the Chantry."
"Not at the moment, that is true," Duncan said with a slight smile. "However, I got a promise out of him and Irving and Greagoir that if we ever have a Blight, I'll be back."
"The 'Alistair Maneuver', eh?" Mari asked. "I'll be sure to get with Anton to write up a contract for future promised Wardens."
"Excellent idea," he said as he opened the door for them. The aromas immediately hit him and he grinned. "I hope you all left me a few scraps!"
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AN: Thanks to you all for your follows and favorites! That's payment worth more than gold. :) Next time, Mari takes Greagoir into her confidence. We check in on Nathaniel and Fergus enlists Alistair to go to Denerim with him.