Disclaimer: We do not own Dragon Age Origins or Elder Scrolls Series
Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23
Re-edited 11/6/2022
The Line of Cousland: Act I
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The Denerim market was booming with commerce as people bought and sold all wares. Under the massive tent of the markets was centered a bald tanned skinned man in his mid-forties. Dressed in simple but refined clothes, he leaned over a wooden table by several animal cages going over several papers. "I must say, my old friend," His antivan-accented voice was both calm and deep as he spoke in the king's tongue. "These types of duties would be preferred naturally to a servant."
"Very true," came a calm, refined voice of a man who stood opposite the other. By his garments alone, you could tell this individual was high-born. But it also showed in his presence and posture, his blue eyes which shone with strength, dignity, resolution, and honor. Though in his late forties like the other man, it did not show much save for the grey in what was his well-groomed, neck-length brunette locks and trimmed facial hair.
"For the teyrn of Highever himself to come to Denerim for something as menial as supplies seems a touch strange. But then, I have to question the nature of the supplies you are procuring so personally." The man placed the papers onto the table as he stood, fully matching the other man in height; "So Bryce, what can you tell this humble old merchant is going on?"
Bryce Cousland, lord of Highever; One of the two most potent nobles of Ferelden, save for the crown itself. One of the two remaining teyrns next to Loghain Mac Tir, and like his fellow teyrn, he had fought against Orlesian Empire and drove them out, freeing Ferelden thirty years ago.
"That is not the question you wish to ask, Master Ignacio." Bryce cocked his head as his brow rose; "You have always spoken your mind, old friend. Ask your real question."
The old merchant leaned towards his friend; "Are the events in Ostagar the reason you're coming to Denerim and purchasing so many weapons and armor? Never mind the medicine, preserved food. This does raise questions, old friend."
"You will find no better goods than here in the capital of Ferelden. The trade here is even better than in my lands. Plus, I had some other businesses in Denerim that required my direct attention." Master Ignacio gave a knowing look seeing how Bryce was going around his question; "It is better to prepare for the worst, is it not?"
A chuckle was given from the Antivan merchant; "Very true. Let us hope Maker willing, but it is not what we fear it to be."
Bryce motioned his men to start carrying the supplies towards their carts currently waiting in the main street; his entourage of Highever knights followed him closely to ensure nothing ill would fall upon their teyrn. After his farewell to Ignacio, the lord of Highever began returning to the rest of his entourage, and his business in Denerim concluded.
Not too long ago, he had met with the queen to discuss backup plans in case the situation at Ostagar worsened, how to keep the supply lines safe, the number of soldiers from the reserves to be mobilized, where to deploy them, set up strategic positions to keep the Darkspawn horde at bay.
Maker above, the Darkspawn... Bryce honestly never thought he'd live to see a Blight, much less one occurring right in his homeland.
Ferelden had already seen plenty of bloodshed; it was only thirty years ago that they were fighting against the Orlesian emperor and his troops. But this was not a war against tyranny or oppression but annihilation. The Darkspawn wanted no lands, no riches; they existed only to spread their malice and destroy everything in their path.
With some fortune, this 'horde' would not be more than a sudden rise in Darkspawn activity; they were known to sometimes come out of the Deep Roads to go on raiding parties. Yet the numbers sighted so far were much more than a mere raiding force...
Still, Bryce kept some hope that this was not a Blight; the one deciding factor had yet to be sighted. So long as the Arch-Demon did not present itself, he was confident his nation could end this situation before it escalated and reached the rest of their lands.
The head of the Cousland family kept his thoughts private as he mounted his horse along with his entourage, leaving Denerim and making their way home. He was eager to spend more time with his family before serving alongside the king.
"Fair skies, my lord," one of his knights in silverite plate armor muttered on horseback. "I'll be happy returning home."
Bryce chuckled as they moved through the Imperial Highway for Highever; "I feel the same, Ser Ector; it will be comforting being back at the castle."
"And these supplies going unnoticed by unwanted attention," Another knight remarked as he steered the large wagon. They were at least several miles away from the capital and sighted by the guards, away from safety.
The teyrn and his guard took notice of a group of individuals approaching them.
"Well, I'll be Andraste's sweet nickers! Teyrn Bryce Cousland! Look here, lads; we got one of the biggest nobles to greet us!"
His blue eyes narrowed as Bryce and his entourage stopped at the sight of a least a dozen men adorned in either rough leathers or worn armor. All held a weapon in hand, and vicious predatory smirks graced their lips save one in particular who had the teyrn's and his knights' attention.
In the middle of these men was a giant ash-skinned man with an imposing physique who wore minor rugged leather from the waist up. His massive arms were crossed in front of his chest, and his cold purple eyes stared with no natural feeling. Two horns adorned his head while his white hair glided in the breeze.
"A qunari," Ser Ector was already off his horse and stood in front of his lord.
Long years of experience already sounded off every alarm in his head, these men were bandits, and they weren't even trying to hide their intentions. But Bryce was a seasoned warrior who faced many dangers throughout his life. Bandits who barely knew how to hold a weapon were not even among the top ten most significant trials he went through in a long military career.
He kept a stern expression on his face as he dismounted, keeping his sword arm ready to act at a moment's notice. But, for the moment, he played along; "Can I help you, gentlemen?"
The lead bandit, a balding man who was missing several teeth, grinned at him; "Oh, you already know what we want, lord Cousland," He said mockingly.
"If it is gold you want, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, for I carry little with me now. But, if it is the supplies, I cannot let you claim them. And if it is my life you want, well," His narrowed gaze managed to make some of the bandits hesitate and take a step back. Cowards, the lot of them. Though he'd be lying if he said the towering qunari who remained impassive throughout the whole thing did not unnerve him. "You won't be leaving with yours."
"Yes, well, we're at an impasse then" The bandit leader shrugged. "A Teyrn's ransom is the next best thing after a king's" He lazily waved forward. "Get him"
The bandits charged forward, bellowing savage battle cries as Bryce and his knights drew their weapons and met them in battle, the wagon drivers tried to take refuge by hiding in between the supplies, but the bandits ignored them in favor of dispatching the knights first. Their objective was the teyrn.
Though the bandits were more numerous, Bryce's soldiers were experienced warriors who wielded armor and weapons of much more excellent quality; in a show of courage and loyalty, they fought to defend their lord. Bryce himself had engaged in combat against three bandits at one. These thieves and murderers were nothing compared to the Chevaliers of the Orlesian Empire.
He parried away the blade of a bandit woman and swiftly slashed at her stomach, his sword cutting through the leather quickly and into the flesh; she fell to the ground with a pained cry. Another bandit charged at him, screaming like a maniac, swinging two axes wildly. Bryce almost felt insulted at the display of crude untrained skill. Stepping to the side as the bandit swung one of his axes, the weight of his missed swing caused him to lose his balance, leaving him wide open for Bryce to stab his blade through his back.
Bryce soon found himself staring down at the bandit leader. The balding man merely smirked that tooth-missing smile of his; he opened his mouth and shouted, "Saar!"
The qunari went straight for him, and for a moment, Bryce felt an angry bull charging at him. He tried to swing at the sizeable horned man, but his blade was swatted away from his grasp by a massive greatsword nearly as tall as he was. The ox man punched him, driving him to the ground, and Bryce felt the world around him become blurry. Everything slowed down as he fell to the ground.
He could dimly hear the sounds of battle, the battle cries, and weapons clashing.
"My lord!" Sir Ector's voice rang out, he briefly entered his vision before the qunari struck, and he fell to the ground with a cry as blood seeped from the side of his stomach.
The qunari loomed over the teyrn threateningly.
"Grab him, you big oaf!" The bandit commanded. "We need to leave now before-!"
His words died in his throat when a blade pierced it. His face twitched in agony as life-giving blood poured forth, and his eyes rolled back. Once the blade pulled back, his body fell lifelessly to the ground.
The sudden death of their leaders stopped the battle, and the bandits turned in shock at the figure standing before his corpse. She was dressed in a mixture of leather with various pieces of plate, a hood hiding most of the newcomer's features. All that could be seen was a woman's lithe and lovely face.
Her ruby red lips turned to an alluring and fierce smile; "Well, boys and girls, are we going to stand here all day or get some killing done?" She pointed her strange, partially curved single-edged sword at the bandits; "Dragonbane has been aching for a fight!"
The bandits closest to her charged, no doubt believing that killing the one who had felled their leader would earn them prestige to become the next one in charge.
The woman nevertheless grinned. And then it was carnage.
Bryce had... never seen anyone move so fast and so fiercely. The stance in which she held that odd curved single-edged blade allowed her to move with such fluidity and swiftness she nearly danced in between her foes. One single slash of that lightning-wreathed edge was enough to kill them instantly.
The sprayed blood followed the sword's movement in arcs; the blade cut the air with each audible swing before cleaving through flesh and bone, cutting through the armor as if this were paper. Limbs flew and fell so quickly that the bandits barely had time to scream in pain before their lives were cut down.
The swiftness, refinement, and sheer unrelenting deadliness of that swordplay were as captivating as it was terrifying.
Such a foreign style was a hypnotizing sight. The prowess displayed by the stranger was the stuff of poems and legends, the kind he always believed to be mere exaggerations.
The bandits that had charged at the woman with such enthusiasm were now running away in terror, forgetting about the teyrn and his knights entirely. Their greed had been replaced with thoughts of survival. All the money meant nothing if they were to fall against this monstrous creature that seemed to revel on the battlefield.
Indeed, all the while, Bryce couldn't help but notice, even amidst the bloodbath, how the woman did not stop smiling.
The lucky ones managed to run back to the wilderness, yet a handful of them was not fast enough to escape the woman's reach. She would take as many lives as she could; those that were too far away were ignored, as though chasing them was too much bother by that point.
The qunari snarled, catching her attention. His massive greatsword swung twice in curving arcs, but she evaded each time, almost mocking him. The qunari, previously uncaring of his gang's activities, was now livid.
The woman kept smiling and sheathed her sword. Bryce almost thought she considered taking on the qunari without any weapon, but he noticed her hand was still on the handle.
The qunari kicked the ground, mimicking the actions of a bull, and charged with his sword raised high. He brought it down upon the woman.
Her sword came out so fast out of its sheath that Bryce could barely follow the attack as if pulling it out led to a much faster move than swinging it usually would have allowed.
The qunari stumbled; his steps became clumsy as blood flowed from his chest, his eyes growing dazed. The woman cleaned the blood on her sword with a swing and slowly guarded her blade. Finally, the qunari fell to the ground almost in unison, with the blade's hilt clicking against the sheath.
"Now that got the blood flowing," The woman shivered as she looked back over at the fallen Qunari curiously; "Well, that is an interesting-looking fellow. Hmm."
A pained grunt got everyone's attention at Bryce quickly by Ser Ector's side; "The wound is deep."
The veteran knight chuckled as he waved it off; "Minor scratch, my lord."
"If that is a minor scratch, then I'm the high queen of Skyrim," Eyes darted forward as the hooded woman walked over and knelt beside Ser Ector and Bryce while the rest of the knights eyed her with caution.
She pulled back her hood, revealing a beautiful pale face with blue eyes more vibrant than any of them had ever seen with long raven-colored locks. Her pointy long elven ears were free for all to see. That made a few blinks, as they had never seen an elf as tall as a human woman.
The woman kept her gaze on the wound before reaching for the pouch on her belt. She pulled out a glass bottle with a round top. "It's bitter, but it will heal you." She reached to hand the potion over to the knight.
The knight hesitated momentarily, sharing a brief look with his lord. Bryce had no reason to mistrust the woman who had jumped to their aid without question and doubted she would resort to any trickery now. Giving his approval, Bryce nodded at sir Ector; he'd rather not lose any of his soldiers today.
Ector reached with shaky hands to the bottle. Bryce assisted him in getting the potion to his lips. The knight nearly gagged when the liquid touched his tongue, so the elven woman held his nose and sternly said, "Swallow," As one would to a sick child when he wouldn't take his medicine. The maker knows he has experience in that field.
Ector wasted no time getting it over, letting out a gasp once the liquid passed down his throat. Then, he began breathing more easily as everyone saw the wound closing. That was a powerful healing potion. Within moments, the wound was no more, and Ser Ector stood up with his knights.
"My thanks to you, my lady," The knight said in gratitude.
"Mine as well," Bryce added with sincerity. "I don't know what would have happened had you not interfered" He most likely would be spending his time in some dark cave that smelled of death while the bandits ransomed for his safety to his family.
The elven woman stood up and gave the noble a short bow. "It was my pleasure," She said, smiling. "Goodbye," And turned around to leave.
The action drew quite a few raised eyebrows. "W-Wait," Bryce held his hand as he walked toward her. "You just joined a fight you had no stake in, saved my men and me, and now you're just going to... leave? Just like that?"
The elf paused as she stared at the ground pondering for a second; "Well... yes, that is usually how these things go for me."
What did that mean, that this kind of situation was familiar to her?
The Cousland shook his head. "Can I ask for your name?"
"Miara Redoran." The elven woman tilted her head, curiosity glowed in her eyes; "May I know your name, good sir?"
"My name is Bryce Cousland."
She gave a short bow once more; clearly, the name did not invoke any reaction from her. "Well met"
"Are you not from Ferelden, my lady? This is the Teyrn of Highever," The wagon rider rebutted as he returned to his seat.
A mirthful smirk came from Miara; "I figured my height would give me away. But, Teyrn," She spoke the work a few times, confident she spoke it right. "For your first question, No. I am not from Ferelden. And before you ask, I am not from Thedas itself. I am a traveling adventurer from a land called Tamriel."
"Tamriel?" The teyrn repeated the unfamiliar name of said land. This woman became a more excellent mystery by the moment. To hear she was from some foreign land was a touch dubious and raised quite a few questions in his head. But she had saved them, so he was in her debt. And Bryce Cousland always paid back in kind. "As a sign of gratitude, I invite you to stay in Highever as my honored guest if it pleases you, my lady."
The elven woman seemed to consider it for a moment. Seldom would any sane person reject the invitation from a noble or think about it for more than a second when it came to one of the Teyrns. But the woman was giving it thought as though weighing her options. More petty men would consider it an insult. Bryce merely waited for a response patiently, whatever that may be.
Finally, the elf called Miara nodded, "I would be honored, Lord Cousland."
"Terrific," He smiles. "You may ride with me," He offered, seeing no mount of her own.
"It's okay, I brought my horse" She whistled a few times, and the sounds of a galloping horse approached. Bryce and his men had to blink a few times, though there were far stranger mounts in other parts of Thedas; this horse was still a peculiar sight. Black as the night with eyes so red they nearly blazed with light. It was a somewhat intimidating creature...
"Oh, my," Bryce muttered as Miara fondly pet the mount. "Is that type of horse common in Tamriel?"
She laughed softly in reply. "Shadowmere is... one of a kind," She said before saddling up and turning to the human noble. "Lead the way, my lord."
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Thankfully no further skirmishes occurred as the teyrn, his knights, and Miara made their way to The Coastland and Highever on the Imperial Highway. Along their journey, Miara took in the vast beauty that was Ferelden. Mountain ranges off in the distance, dense forests stretched for miles, lush grasslands, lakes, and rivers of varying sizes. It reminded her of the heartland of Cyrodiil.
As she took in the sights, curiosity came in the form of questions from the Teyrn and the elven woman herself. The knights had listened, one or two asking their questions which Miara answered. However, she held back a few snickers upon seeing the knights and nobleman's reactions to Khajiit and Argonians, which included detailing her first and oldest friend she made in Skyrim.
"Surprised you did not bring this 'Kharjo'," Ser Ector said the name quietly, hoping he was saying it right; "Along with you."
Miara inclined her head back to glance at the knight; "And how would the people of Ferelden have acted seeing a Beast man?"
Bryce spoke up; "Likely panicked before getting an explanation."
"Why I did not risk bringing Kharjo with me. Best they learn of my lands in small doses."
"And your children and Lady Serana?" A knight asked.
The Dragonborn chuckled, "My children are grown adults who are more than capable of protecting themselves, and Serana is my equal in combat. Besides, wanderlust runs strong in all of us. We had traveled all over Tamriel."
"Which is ruled by the Empire based in Cyrodiil?" The Teyrn would be lying if he was not curious about this Empire more than anything else.
Miara could see the thoughts running through the man's head by looking into his eyes. Fascination, interest, along with wariness and caution. Bryce Cousland seemed to be a man devoted to his nation; Miara did not doubt the news of a foreign power from beyond the sea was, in a way, alarming to him. But he also seemed to be an open-minded man. While the knights did not believe her when she spoke of the beast folk of her lands, believing them to be mere fabrications, the noble seemed to believe her words. He would not cast judgment so quickly on mere worries on his part.
"The empire's history is long and rather tedious, to be honest," Miara said. "If you want to know more, I'm happy to share what I know. I, for myself, am curious about your land." However, she still needed to know more about the situation in Ferelden, how the country operated, its history, and its coming war with the 'Darkspawn'.
"I'd be most delighted to tell you about my home," The teyrn said pleasantly. "I have lived through moments that shaped our current history."
"Indeed?"
"Lord Cousland is being modest," Ser Ector said with a smile. "When the Orlesian Empire enslaved us, he was one of the brave children of Ferelden who fought for our honor."
"Truly?" That was undoubtedly impressive; Miara knew a thing or two about taking part in the making of history, after all. It was not an easy feat to come out alive. "My, so you are a war hero then" So far, the teyrn presented himself as polite and kind to others even if they weren't of the same station, which raised her approval of him by several notches. To hear about his exploits in defense of his nations added to that.
Bryce laughed softly; "Exaggerations, I assure you, there were others who did far more than me."
And humble to boot, these kinds of nobles were rare. Miara soon found herself comparing this man with Balgruuf the Greater.
"Ah" The teyrn smiled joyfully as he stared at the distance. "We're nearing home."
'Home' is a city, not as massive as Denerim perhaps, but significant all the same. High walls that protected its limits prevented her from seeing farther into it. Nevertheless, she could see the rooftops of a few buildings peeking over the walls and smoke from chimneys.
They approached the iron gates, which soon were lifted to let them enter. Soldiers in mail and plate saluted their lord, and nearby peasants momentarily stopped their activities to bow and greet the teyrn with proper respect. The human noble did not ignore their greetings, merely smiling at those he passed by and nodding in return; by the smiles on these people's faces, it was clear that Bryce had their loyalty, from humans and elves alike. No doubt fostered by the righteous rule of his family.
Looking at the city, Highever reminded Miara of Denerim; the artistic style of the human civilization here did not seem to vary much locally. The types of buildings were mostly the same; the roads were well paved, businesses bustled with activity, and at first glance, it looked like Bryce's people did not lack much.
A whistle came from the Dragonborn as Castle Cousland came into view. A genuinely massive building made from white stone, she could tell this place was old, centuries old, but well cared for. "This place is bigger than the royal castle in Denerim," Miara spoke absently.
"The Cousland family is the oldest in Ferelden, my lady." Ser Ector smiled as they passed through the three open arches of the castle. "Dates back to Sarim Cousland in the Tower Age."
Miara's brow rose as Bryce, and the others came to a stop and unmounted from their horses. The elf followed suit as several human and elf servants came over. "See, the horses are tended to, and the supplies stored where needed," Bryce spoke calmly as the servants nodded. However, she did notice the elven servants were giving her surprised glances.
He soon gave a wordless nod to his knights as they bowed in return and dispersed save for Ser Ector. With a gesture from the teyrn, she followed him and the knight to the main double wooden doors. Well crafted, thick, and sturdy, she was impressed by the craftsmanship.
As they entered the castle, Bryce led her through the main halls. Castle Cousland reminded her of some of the finest fortresses she had seen in her long life. With a multitude of rooms, various decorations of paintings (most likely the members of their family), and armor set on display, with soldiers standing guard at specific locations. The servant did an excellent a good job in maintaining this place.
"I will arrange for a room shortly," The teyrn informed. "But first, I would like you to meet my family."
Miara was curious about his family, if she was honest, wondering if they were like him.
They entered what appeared to be the main hall, an expansive room with a rather large fireplace at the end. In Tamriel, rooms like this were usually reserved for meeting with guests, discussing various matters of political importance, and issuing commands to the guard when summoned by their lord.
Standing by the fireplace was a finely dressed woman who was clearly in her middle years, with her graying hair done in braided buns, yet possessed a fiery spark of energy still in her eyes. Her lips twisted into a loving smile as she spotted Bryce, which the man returned with his own.
"It was about time you arrived," She spoke teasingly as she approached them.
Bryce chuckled as he gently took her hands and planted a tender kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry, my dear; there were... complications."
"Complications?"
"The bandit kind"
That got a reaction from the woman, one of worry and fright. "Maker, are you alright? What about your entourage?"
"I'm fine, my love; everyone is" He placated her before turning to the elf. "This woman here is the reason why. But first, Miara Redoran, I want to introduce you to my wife, Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Miara Redoran. She fought off the bandits and even saved Ser Ector's life."
Said the knight giving the family's matriarch a respectful bow; "She is quite the remarkable warrior, my lady."
Miara saw Eleanor's eyes come to her, assessing her and taking in her appearance. "You have my gratitude for keeping my husband safe and saving Ser Ector's life. He has been a good friend to our family."
"It was nothing, my lady," The elf gave a respectful bow.
"Forgive me, but you're different than most elves I've seen."
At that, Bryce chuckled with delight; "She has quite a story. I'll let her explain once we summon the rest of the family then," He looked to a human servant who came over upon beckoning; "Please tell my sons and Oriana to come to the main hall. Bring Oren along as well."
"Yes, my lord."
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The wait was barely ten minutes long as the Dragonborn took notice of the rest of the Cousland family as they were introduced. Fergus Cousland bore a remarkable likeness to his father, save a full, well-kept beard and short dark brunette hair, dressed in a simple but regal shirt and leather pants with boots. At his side was his wife Oriana, a red-haired young woman in a practical but pleasing dress, with a young boy that was their son, Oren. The boy looked much like his father but with his mother's hair and eyes.
And finally, the youngest son Marcus Cousland. About the same height as his brother, but as Eleanor explained, he looked like his late grandfather William Cousland. Shoulder-length brunette hair in a low ponytail with a well-trimmed goatee and intense sapphire eyes that matched her darling Sofie's. At his side was a massive muscular hound with light brown short fur.
The hound must be one of the famous 'mabari' she had heard so much about. She could barely go anywhere in this country without hearing about the dogs; Ferelden loved their canine companions. And the mabari had quite a history, she didn't know the full details, but these hounds were very smart enough to understand their two-legged companions even correctly.
The hound, Loke, as he was called, tilted his head as he stared at her. He was assessing her in his way. Miara smiled fondly at the animal, waving slightly. The hound chuffed good naturally at her. Miara always had an affinity for animal companions; sometimes, they were much less troublesome than people.
Miara knelt as the mabari walked up to her; her hand ruffled his head playfully as she cooed. "You like that, don't you? Yes, you do~" Loke leaned into her caresses, finding himself quickly defeated by the elf's fingers that found all the spots he couldn't scratch properly. Finally, he accepted his surrender to her display of affection by dropping to the floor and rolling on his back and his hind paw kicking the air as the elf assaulted his belly. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy~?"
The Cousland family was honestly taken aback by the display. For Loke to openly act so trustful for a stranger was a rare sight. "Well," The youngest Marcus smiled mirthfully at sight. "Seems Loke likes her" If there was any doubt about the stranger, it vanished altogether.
Well, that and saving his father and their soldiers, but getting Loke to like her? That was another type of accomplishment in and of itself.
A giggle came from Miara as she kept petting Loke, "Always had a fondness for animals. I had two dogs myself." She looked up to the family; "As said, I have a bit of a tale to tell about myself and my lands. Care to listen?"
And so they all sat by the fire as the Dragonborn spoke of herself, her family, and her home of Tamriel and its diverse people. However, she tried and failed miserably not to laugh at little Oren asking about the Khajiit and Argonians while mispronouncing the names so cutely.
She spoke of the Empire, which made the adults very apprehensive. Miara could safely assume whoever the Orlesians were; they did not leave quite a good impression on Ferelden.
"It is odd that your family just wandered off on their own," Eleanor commented. Though perhaps given her history, she was not one to criticize.
"Oh, I'm sure my children and lover are alright. We wanted to see more of this land and thought we could learn more by splitting up," Miara said as she idly scratched Loke's ears. "My Oryrn and Sofie are born warriors, and I trust Sarya to talk her way out of any situation" Okay, that was an outright lie. If anything, Sarya's mouth would get her into more trouble. But it was better not to say exactly what her daughter's skills were. "She's a scholar, you see, eager to learn more about these lands."
"Should have brought her here with you," Fergus said amicably. "Master Aldous would have talked her ear off; at last, the old man would have someone to listen to him instead of falling asleep."
His mother looked disapprovingly at him. "Well, I'm glad you value our tutor and historian's efforts so much."
"Oh, I value his efforts; Oren sleeps like a log on whenever he speaks."
The child's high-pitched voice chimed in. "He's always talking about boring stuff, I tell him to tell me stories about knights and dragons, but he doesn't want to."
Bryce smiled, amused at his grandson. "Not everything is fairy tales Oren; Aldous teaches you essential things."
Marcus ruffled his nephew's head. "Ask him to tell you about the Grey Wardens next time; you'll learn and hear about warriors" He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "And griffons," Much to his excitement.
Miara raised an eyebrow at that. So they had griffons in these lands as well? Interesting.
"In fact," Bryce said, "that sounds like a wonderful idea. But, lady Miara-" He turned to face her, but she interrupted him before he could continue.
"Just Miara, I'm not that much into that 'lady' business" She liked this man, so she wanted fewer formalities between them.
"Miara," He conceded with a nod. "Due to certain... developments going on in the south, you could benefit from Aldous' lesson on the Darkspawn."
There it was, that word again. Miara frowned; "I've read something about those monsters in Denerim and heard about a campaign being waged in the south to fight them. Not exactly the sort of things that goes unnoticed."
"Well, I don't know much of the Darkspawn myself, aside from what the chantry says," The lord of the Cousland house admitted. "But fortunately, the Grey Wardens have responded to our call; they're an ancient order of warriors dedicated to fighting the creatures."
"Are these Wardens effective warriors?"
"From the tales, it appears so" It was Marcus who answered. "One often hears they fight with much greater intensity and endurance than any regular person. They have centuries of experience fighting the Darkspawn; their aid will be invaluable."
"I even had the privilege of speaking with the Warden-Commander of Ferelden recently," Bryce said. "Duncan is currently looking for recruits in Denerim. He said he had originally planned to come here in search of other warriors, but the Darkspawn amassing in the south won't give him enough time. After that, I'm not sure where he'll head to look for more recruits."
"Could be the Circle," Fergus proposed. "The Chantry has permitted the senior mages to mobilize against the Darkspawn," which indicated how bad things were getting, a realization that somber the mood of the Couslands.
All but little Oren, who looked ecstatic at his grandfather, "You saw a Warden Grandpa. Did he have a griffon?"
"No, Oren," Oriana chuckled at her son's childish naivety. "Griffons are extinct. They're all gone"
Miara's eyes widened at that. "They are?"
"Unfortunately," Marcus explained, "The last griffons died out in the Fourth Blight four centuries ago."
"Well, that is..." The dunmer in disguise was honestly at a loss for words. "That... sucks" She was Not very eloquent, but she conveyed her feelings well. "I don't know how the elves of Summerset would take it if their griffons were to die off," She mused suddenly.
That little tidbit did not go unnoticed by the Couslands, who shared confused looks. "I'm..." Eleanor stammered. "I'm sorry. You made it sound like Tamriel has-"
"Griffons, yes," Miara quickly confirmed. "The order of the Welkynar Gryphon Knights ride them into battle."
One could hear a pin drop into the room.
Marcus summed up what everyone was feeling with a single word. "What?"
Miara did not fight the growing smirk forming on her lips; "Tamriel has griffons. Mainly in Summerset. But some wonder to other provinces."
At that, Oren was nearly bouncing on his mother's lap; "Griffons are real!"
Bryce glanced at his oldest son; "Wonder how the Wardens would react to that?" He looked back to Miara; "Would those elves, Altmer, yes? Would they-"
"Give a brood to your Wardens?" Miara thought for a moment, "The Altmer are a rigorous people. With a lot of rules. Your Wardens would have to speak with them." She could see that Teyrn was thinking heavily on the subject. The elf soon drew her attention to Fergus and Marcus; "So what do you strapping, handsome young lads do?"
"Fearless hardened warriors," Fergus smirked while his wife snorted and gave her a look; "What?"
"Oh, you're fearless, my love, except around rats."
"They bring only disease and famine!" The eldest son let out a sudden outburst, much to the amusement of his family, who laughed out loud at his passionate proclamation. "Don't even get me started on their tails! Huff!" He shuddered at the thought.
"Don't worry, brother," Marcus said between bouts of laughter. "Loke here will protect you; he's a professional rat hunter. Much better than a cat."
"Indeed" The elder brother let go of his previous outburst to look fondly at the family pet. "You keep this family safe, don't you, boy?"
Loke barked dutifully, going over to little Oren to lick his face and play with the young lad. His father soon joined them; all the while, Bryce and Eleanor looked fondly at the scene, along with Oriana and Marcus.
Miara smiled, finding the moment to arouse memories from her own family. From what she had seen of the Couslands, they seemed good people.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
"I have to say, this place is well cared for," Miara spoke idly as she walked beside Marcus through one of the large halls of the castle. Loke was at the Elven woman's side as her hand rested on the large hound's head.
The youngest son of Bryce and Eleanor was still astonished at how taken his faithful Mabari was to this foreigner from an unknown land. "A lot of hard work and a lot of care. Least is what my father says."
The Dragonborn inspected the paintings and furnishings spread through the hall. It reminded her a bit of the Blue Palace and Dragon's Reach, both majestic and surprisingly homey simultaneously. So it had to be of the current family residing within these walls.
"So..." Miara cocked her head to Marcus; "What do I get to see around your castle 'my lord'?" She giggled, watching the young man rolled his eyes.
"Just Marcus. You can look around throughout the castle and the village."
"Marcus!" A melodic soft-spoken behind them. The hidden elf saw recognition from the young noble as his eyes shone brighter, shifting around with a smile on his lip. Loke also barked happily as he turned with his master. Miara followed both turning her head to see who spoke.
The newcomer was an elf with sandy blonde braided hair and soft blue eyes. Her attire was very well made, and she even wore some jewelry. The only time Miara had seen an elf dressing in such a well-to-do manner was when she spied on the queen and her elven handmaiden. Considering the attitude towards elves in these lands, she imagined such was the case for the woman in front of them.
More surprising was to see Marcus walk up to the woman and embrace her; the two share a tender kiss. Well, Miara was certain in these lands, such a thing has done between a human noble of excellent standing, and an elven woman would be among the epitome of scandal. But clearly, young Marcus did not care for that in the least.
There was honest affection in their eyes and the loving smiles they gave each other. Whatever they felt for each other was genuine.
Loke barked and ran up to the blonde elf, who reached down to pat his head gently.
"I thought you'd be arriving later."
"Lady Landra arranged the carriage to take us to Highever early."
Before Marcus could query on 'us,' a small weight hugged at his waist. Miara saw a more paternal expression from the young man as she saw a little elven girl, no older than ten, wearing a simple but elegant white and maroon dress with her brunette hair in pigtails. Her little face looked much like the older woman save for having brown eyes.
Marcus picked up the child as she beamed; "And how is my little princess today?" Marcus spoke in a fatherly tone as the child wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, for which he returned.
Miara felt a light pang in her heart as she missed her kids being that small. She shook off the reminiscing as she lightly cleared her throat, making the trio glance at her. "Well, one thing I can say, you Couslands, settle down quick, already having kids." She giggled at the elven woman blushing as a faint tint came to Marcus' cheeks.
The young Cousland shook his head before speaking, "Iona, Amethyne. This is Miara Redoran of Tamriel. Miara, this my betrothed Iona and her daughter Amethyne."
Amethyne was rather shy in Marcus' arms but also as curious as her mother as they looked wide-eyed at the foreign elven woman.
"Um, it's a pleasure, my lady" Iona had no idea what this 'Tamriel' was, but the elf in front of her was as tall as a human. That alone warranted attention.
"The pleasure is mine," Miara said as she approached the child; "Hello there, darling."
"Hello," The child greeted back.
The dunmer in disguise smiled at her. "I love your pigtails."
"Thank you, and I like your hair."
Miara giggled in return; ah, children were just the sweetest things. Looking carefully at the girl, she could tell Marcus was not the father but loved the girl as much as a true father. These Couslands just kept surprising her, and in a good way, she could say.
"She is my father's guest," Marcus informed the blonde elf. "She has... quite the tales."
Iona chuckled as she shook her head. "Now, why do I feel that's an understatement?"
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
The four-plus faithful war hound roamed Castle Cousland, with Miara learning quite a bit about Iona and Amethyne. The lady-in-waiting and young noble met a year or two prior at this Lady Landra's formal party and have become close ever since.
Iona and her daughter came from Denerim alienage originally. When her first husband, Amethyne's father, died, Lady Landra took mother and daughter into her home, where the young mother had worked for the noblewoman for many years.
Miara was glad to hear this Landra sounded like a good person. Though by Marcus' tone, this lady noble was rather quite partial to alcohol. This prompted Iona to smack her lover's arm lightly and rebuked him. The hidden dark elf chuckled.
As Marcus told her, the two had met during one of the many visits from Lady Landra. A few passing glances and flirtatious comments began evolving into more frequent meetings whenever they saw each other again. From there, they began getting to know each other better, learning more about their respective lives, to becoming involved with each other's families. Marcus with Amethyne and Iona with the Couslands, who became quite taken with the elven handmaiden and her daughter.
Somewhere along the line, a marriage proposal became the next step.
It was a lovely yet simple story about how the two got together. A touch too simple, perhaps. But maybe Miara had gotten too used to the outlandish stories from her own experiences. How she met Serana certainly was not something one could mention in a casual conversation...
They neared what Marcus said was the library, where the scholar Aldous resided. Feeling like the extra wheel to their carriage, Miara bid them farewell as they took their separate ways. Inside, she saw an older-looking man with robes organizing a few books; she coughed and introduced herself.
"Ahhh, so you're the guest I've been hearing about," The bearded human mused with curiosity. "One claiming to come from lands beyond the sea, right? Fascinating..."
"I'm sure the history of Thedas is fascinating as well," Miara said with a cordial smile. "I wanted to learn about these lands. And of the Cousland family, if you have the time," It's only the respectful thing to do, seeing she was their guest, she could stand to familiarize herself with their legacy.
By the look on his face, Aldous was eager for an interested audience.
It was a fascinating story; the rise of the Tevinter Imperium, the fall of the Arlathan elves, the Darkspawn, their conquest of Thedas, and the uprising by Andraste, the Bride of the Maker. Ferelden was a country that had only 'recently' begun to modernize. It had been split into smaller territories under the power of lords and united by the first king Calenhad. However, the Couslands had a history dating back to the third age of the Thedosian Calendar, dating even before the unification of Ferelden.
Theirs was an accomplished line; through their ups and downs, they have made history for their country. Ranging from standing up against the tyrannical rule of Orlais to helping combat the werewolf hordes that rose in their lands during the fourth age.
Hircine must have been up to his antics around that time...
But there was another issue that plagued Miara's mind, one that perhaps the scholar had been avoiding.
"What happened to the elves?"
That had gotten the elderly sage to stiffen up. Suppose his facial expressions weren't already a dead giveaway to her. She leaned over the table they sat, resting her hand on his; "Aldous. I'll say this now. I will bear no ill to you or anyone currently living. If I get angry, it will be those in the past. There no purpose or sense to hate those who were not even born in that age."
Aldous looked at the elven woman for a good minute before he let out a long wary breath. "In all honesty, the records of those times are muddled at best. So I can't say for certain which is true or not. But I will explain what I know."
And so the older man spoke of his knowledge of the elves of Thedas. From their gods to what history he had learned in his long life. From the mythic Arlathan to the Dales, he explained what he found and heard from other fellow scholars, Chantry historians, and finally, elves willing to speak with him.
Miara's face remained unreadable save for tiny twitches here and there from the elf's fingers or eyes. Then, finally, she leaned back on her chair and ran her hands over her face.
It was always the same story—humans against elves. The races just couldn't stop themselves from one hurting the other.
The Snow Elves and the Nords over a fucking magical orb.
The Ayleids and the Nedes, because the wild elves were tremendously cruel as the records went. Even the survivors who sided with the humans were spared in the end.
The Alessian Order, who, in their arrogance and hate, tried to destroy everything elven, even a side of Akatosh.
The Thalmor, who had set out to wipe out humanity from the face of Nirn.
This eternal conflict with no end in sight. It was part of the reason she helped reforge the empire, to ensure they could break this pointless cycle of Enantiomorphism surrounding men and mer. Peace between the races was not an impossible goal, and she had met too many people and seen so many instances of cooperation that proved her belief was correct.
Tamriel was still a work in progress. And now the lands of Thedas...
Miara wondered if she'd someday see true peace between elven kind and the races of man.
And to hear every large enough settlement in Thedas with elves had alienages, the tumultuous relationship between the human kingdoms and the dalish clans...
The Dragonborn sighed; for every victory one achieved, one lived to see ten more defeats.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Miara's breath flowed evenly as she slept peacefully in the room given to her. While not as large as her bed chamber of Severin Manor, it was still quite spacious and well-furnished with a couch, bookshelves, a studies desk, and even a table with chairs. All in all very fancy for a guest's room; she knew Serana would be so mad she was not also enjoying this luxury of hospitality.
So what would Kharjo now think about it?
A soft groan came from the dark elf as morning sunlight slowly shined upon her. "Do you want me to use a damn blood-cursed arrow on you?" She muttered irritably as she opened her crimson eyes and sat up with her blankets crumbling downwards, revealing her naked grey upper torso. She glanced at herself in the mirror attached to a well-crafted dresser. She snorted, seeing how unruly her hair looked like always every morning.
She stretched her arms upwards and shifted her skin tone back to her guise. "A hot bath, breakfast, and speak with Bryce..."
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
The Teyrn was, of course, surprised at her request to visit the Highever alienage but allowed it all the same. So Miara took to the city's streets by herself, familiarizing herself more with the city's layout. Highever was a prosperous place with plentiful commerce, and the number of beggars on the street she'd seen was fortunately meager. Universal satisfaction was impossible after all, and it was sad but true.
Speaking of prosperity, her reaction to seeing their alienage was a pleasant surprise. While still barred in their section of the city by walls, the alienage didn't seem too different from the rest of Highever. It was not a fancy district with ostentatious states where rich and noble folk would live, but just a regular district. With the same quality of houses that any other peasant in the city would own.
The elves here looked well-fed and clothed, and it was all just so... normal. A far cry from Denerim, where the squalor in which the elves there lived was enough to piss her off so much she'd feel like shouting someone to the ground.
She wondered if the elves here were more accepted than they were in Denerim.
As if a god heard her silent inquiry, the cry coming near the alienage gates answered her questions. Hurrying to see what the commotion was about, she approached to see an obese human holding a meek elven woman by the arm roughly; at her feet was a fallen basked with bread. The sheer terror met the anger on his face in hers.
"You think you can just steal my bread and get away with it?" He snarled at her face.
"P-P-Please, sir, I bought this bread! I-I swear!" She desperately pleaded.
"Don't you dare lie to me, you knife ear! I left my bread cooling on my window, I turned around for a moment, and it was gone! And what a coincidence, I see you walking in front of my house with bread! You stole it!"
"B-But this bread isn't even hot!" It was no use, and he wasn't listening to logic.
Miara looked around, but no guards were in sight to defuse the situation. Her hand twitched, but she kept herself from pulling one of her weapons.
"I'll teach you a lesson, you little thief!" He raised his hand to strike her, and the elf cowered in fright.
Miara could not take it anymore. "Hey!" She got his attention. The human only became angrier at the sight of another elf who dared stand up to him even.
He scoffed, "Oh, another knife ear; you vermin always stick together, eh?"
"Let her go," Miara spoke with firmness and edge. "She says she did not steal your bread. So let. Her. Go"
He smiled mockingly at her. "Or what?"
It was like the temperature around him dropped by several degrees; he felt a substantial weight pressing down on him, making his heart beat faster at the sheer terror he was suddenly feeling. The eyes on that elf, they were... they were not natural. Beyond their blue color, it was like a smoldering fire waiting to be unleashed. And it just so happened that he was on its path; he had started a fire that would consume him instantly.
Miara spoke in a shallow and barely controlled tone, "Or else you'll force me to do something I'll regret. I'm a guest here, and I don't want to spit on the hospitality given to me... So let her go, and go. AWAY"
The human was sweating coldly at the intensity of her words. He shakily let go of the elf and walked away as fast as his legs would.
Once he disappeared, Miara let out a sigh. Her dragon side was an excellent intimidating tactic; projecting the sheer power and need to dominate in her voice would make lesser hearts crumble. She stared at the other elven woman; the poor thing was still frightened, both by her near attack at the hands of the humans and by witnessing her imposing will.
Miara looked at the fallen basket, knelt to pick it up, and placed the bread inside it again. "Are you okay?"
Her now much softer words seemed to snap her out of her stupor. "Y-Yes. Thank you, I... thank you so much," She said in genuine gratitude. "It's not every day you see an elf stand up to a human like that."
"Does this happen often?"
The Highever elf gave her a somewhat crestfallen look; "You're new around here, aren't you?"
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
As she introduced herself, the elven woman, Thalia, brought Miara to the elder who sat near this alienage's Vhenadahl telling stories to the children and some adults. It went without saying they were surprised to meet a foreign elf who came from an unknown country none had ever heard of before.
Elder Kharis and the growing crowd were in awe of stories from their distant cousin, who happily spoke of the diverse people who held their kingdoms. In-kind Kharis spoke of life in Highever; Miara observed every person around her noticing their body language to their eyes.
While life here was not as lonely and despair-inducing, hatred and bigotry still came from many towards the elves. However, Kharis stressed he harbored no grudge toward Lord Bryce and his family. On the contrary, the Couslands had been a godsend for the Elves after their liberation from the Orlesians. But they were only four of them. And changing the hearts and minds to let go of one's hate was no easy task.
Glancing around, she could tell not all agreed with the elder's sentiment towards the nobility that resided here. Sadly hate was shared by both sides.
"I'll be staying in Highever for a while. So I will come to visit. Maybe share more tales." Miara smirked and soon giggled as the children around her jumped in excitement.
Kharis chuckled at sight, "I think I speak for everyone; we would enjoy that greatly, Lethallan."
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
After realizing she had spent a few good hours in the alienage, the hidden dunmer wondered about the city and eventually returned to the castle. Roaming the halls, her ears twitched upon hearing the sound of fighting. Passing through an open door, she entered a large open room with no ceiling with Couslands soldiers training and sparring.
Among them were Fergus and Marcus, with their father overseeing things from the sidelines, personally training with the guard. Their technique was perfect, reflecting experience and years of training. She wondered how they'd perform on the battlefield.
"Ahhh, Miara," Bryce said with a smile as he spotted her. "I hope my city was to your liking."
"It's a wonderful city," The elf said as she walked around the sparring ring until she was next to the lord. "You must be proud of it."
"The lands are only as good as the people who rule it, and my family strives to do right by the people under our care" He was not boasting, merely stating the fact that was the responsibility of his lineage. Miara could respect that.
"I've known some nobles who are not as... level-headed as you are."
"Please," He snorted in a faux-insulted tone. "I've seen how some 'nobles' behave themselves. How they stuff their faces with food while the peasantry starves."
"You speak from experience, I see. Orlais?" Miara knew enough about their history from Aldous to imagine what it must have been.
"Hmph, for all Orlais boasts about being the epitome of culture, the depravity they showed during the occupation of Ferelden would have made the Tevinter Imperium proud" Though his voice was controlled, there was still some traces of anger in it. And Miara understood had lived firsthand through the tyranny of an empire enslaving his people. "True, the empire has a different leadership with Empress Celene, and I'd rather we keep the peace, but their nobility has not changed at all."
A low grunt came from the elven woman understanding quite well due to her encounters with 'nobility'. Why she hated going to High Rock, for the most part; shifting her eyes, she saw Ser Ector performing intense exercises beside a younger man she met the other day with short reddish hair and a single braid. Ser Gilmore seemed to be tutored by the veteran knight by the looks.
And he was proving himself a rather good student as he listened carefully to Ser Ector's words. Then, finally, she turned her sight back to Fergus and Marcus, who sparred against the other hard and fast, showing no wasted movement.
Miara crossed her arms under her bust; "Mind if I try a go?" That got the attention of the men and a few women as they looked her way.
Hearing that, Bryce tilted his head; "Well... Given your skills, I've seen I'm not against it." He soon shrugged as he looked at the elven woman; "Who would you like to face?"
He saw that predatory smile on her lips once again. "Everyone in this room"
That got the warriors of Highever to look among themselves in concern, "Um, isn't that a touch unfair, my lady?" Fergus drawled.
"Hmm, you're right. But the battlefields are seldom fair, so you need to learn how to fight when the odds are against you."
"...Did she just insinuate we are at a disadvantage?" One of the female knights muttered to a fellow soldier, who shrugged in response. At the same time, others looked annoyed by the woman's boasting.
"Oh, alright, as not to bruise your collective egos, you can just face me one at a time" The elf took a wooden sword and gave it a spin with her wrist as she walked to the center of the sparring ring. Having seen what she was capable of, Sir Ector wisely stepped away.
The young Ser Gilmore was the first to face her. He bowed his head in a show of sportsmanship.
Miara smiled; "Have at it then" She did not even take a stance, instead resting a hand on her hip as her sword arm lazily stood at the side.
Gilmore did not waste the opportunity and struck, swinging down his training sword... only for the elf to step out of the way in a great show of speed and agility, using the flat part of the training sword to hit the back of his knees, making him stumble and fall to the ground with a push of her foot.
The young knight let out a muffled grumble as his face was pressed against the floor; the elf's foot on top of his back prevented him from getting up.
Bryce, Sir Ector, and a few soldiers who had seen her fight before were not surprised by the outcome. The rest, including the lord's sons, could only gawk at the 'spar' that had lasted an impressive amount of three full seconds.
"Shall we try that again, good Ser?"
To no surprise of Bryce and Ector, what followed was seeing every Cousland soldier being defeated with barely much effort one by one from the elf for over an hour. However, to the surprise of the young and veteran soldiers, she did not boast or belittle them as she simply explained what she saw from each soldier's skills—she told them where to improve and strengthen what was already second nature to them.
Soon only Fergus and Marcus remained as Miara pointed her wooden blade at them, still smiling; "So how do you two wish to face me? I'm comfortable either way, boys."
The oldest son rubbed the back of his head, looking at the felled Cousland soldiers who all sat around the room holding their sore bodies. "How bout we try two on one, brother."
Marcus never kept his eyes off Miara's as he gave a slight nod; "Let's try it." He spun his two wooden swords in his hands.
At that, the Dragonborn's smile grew; "Now that's the spirit! Show me what the line of Cousland can do!"
The Couslands began by flanking her, Fergus' sole wooden sword striking from the left while Marcus swung his practice blades from the right. Miara backed away and dodged, taking a step back each time they struck. The two were very well coordinated; she had to give them that. Certainly a step above their soldiers, once more, she wondered how they would fare in a real battle. She had the feeling they would not disappoint.
The elf spun around as she dodged a downward strike from Fergus, hitting him in the back with the flat side of the wooden sword. Marcus followed up with a sweeping strike from his blades, only for Miara to duck under the blow and close the distance quickly; the youngest Cousland stared in surprise as she grabbed his left wrist and twisted his arm, forcing him to drop his sword. She was swift to catch it as she stepped back. The brothers caught their breath as they saw the elf now armed with two practice swords, spinning them much as Marcus had done earlier.
"Had enough?" She asked with a smile.
The Couslands just looked all the more resolute at the challenge and engaged her once more, and their strikes were quickly parried by the elf, keeping them at bay at the same time; moving with such extraordinary speed, she was able to counter them one at the moment they struck. Striking Fergus and then moving to Marcus, then rinsing and repeating, she could keep her focus on both, countering one and then moving to the other.
It looked like neither of them would get past her seemingly flawless defense. So they played the endurance game and tried to wear her down, hoping she would eventually get tired. But it worked against them as their stamina dwindled throughout the spar, their movements becoming more sluggish, less precise. This allowed the elf to move between them, using both wooden swords to strike at their legs and push, knocking them off their feet and making them fall to the ground.
Both grunted before they froze as the points of the wooden swords were at their throats. "As I said to your soldiers, I'll say to you two. You're both very well trained with excellent combat senses and awareness. I would love to know how you two handle a real battle." She walked past the brothers, who both sighed resignedly at their defeat.
A smiling Miara handed over the wooden blades to Ser Ector, who only shook his head. "In all my years, I've never seen a perfect blend of speed and strength with such finesse."
"It took a lot of years to get where I am. Thankfully being an elf with a generous lifespan comes in handy," Granted, she was a bit more complicated, but they didn't know that.
Bryce nodded as his sons got to their feet; "I remember you explained the elves on Tamriel could live for centuries. Save the Orcs?" He hoped he said that right. But, Maker, the concept alone was outrageous, and he wasn't sure he believed it.
"Indeed." Miara nodded; "And apparently, the elves of Thedas have short lifespans. But I have nearly seventy years of combat experience in my hundred and thirty years of life." She ignored the cry from the soldiers who yelled out, 'you're a hundred and thirty!' as she kept talking.
"Maker…" Fergus whispered in disbelief. "That is… impressive. You must have learned a lot with that amount of years."
"I've blended all kinds of martial combat over the years." Well, from what all her older sister had taught her.
A thought occurred to Bryce as he remembered her fighting style against the bandits, using her single-edged blade. But, unfortunately, the design was not from this land.
"Would said styles involve that sword of yours? I've never seen the like."
She patted the handle of her Dragonbane; "This is one of Akavir's style of swords, the katana." Then, unsheathing the blade, she presented it to the people present.
Ser Gilmore sat on a wooden bench beside a few others as he commented, "Frankly, my lady, how does something that small not break the moment it strikes another blade or armor?"
Ector and Bryce saw a much different smile form on the elf's lips; "Akaviri smithing uses a technique called folding, basically repeatedly heating the metal, hammering and 'folding' it, the process of folding metal improves strength and remove impurities, thus strengthening the blade's durability." Oh, she could not stop smiling when she found several tomes on Akaviri smithing on Sky Haven Temple, along with more books from her father for her to learn.
"That's an interesting process," Bryce remarked as he stroked his beard. "This 'Akavir' is in Tamriel, I take it."
"Oh no, they're another continent across the sea" She nearly laughed at the look Bryce and his sons were giving her. It screamed their disbelief at the existence of yet another land unknown to them.
"I haven't been there myself, and few people have in history. But suffice it to say Tamriel and Akavir have... history. The bloody kind."
"Don't all nations?" Marcus cynically droned.
"Hmph," The elf laughed softly, "True. But I doubt Tamriel's encounters with Akavir are over" If what her father said was true, many in Akavir still considered Tamriel to be their 'rivals', and were more than eager to pick up a fight with them again. But that was something to worry about in the future, and with the empire united, Miara was confident of their chances in a war against them again. "Either way, we adopted some things from their lands, including swordsmanship and various weapons and armor."
Bryce extended his hand, "May I?"
"Of course" She handed him the katana.
The lord ran a pair of fingers over the flat side, careful not to cut himself. Then, with a flick of his nail against the metal, he heard it ring. A couple of swings allowed him to familiarize himself with the weapon, quickly learning the style meant for it was not the same as one would wield a longsword or even another type of curved sword.
"It's a very interesting blade," He said, appreciating the foreign craftsmanship. "I swear I saw it shrouded in lightning when you battled the bandits, is it enchanted?"
"A strong storm enchantment, yes," She said as she took the weapon back. Then, triggering its magic, the blade became alight with arcs of electricity. "It also has a second enchantment; you can imagine why it's called Dragonbane," Miara smirked.
Among their nods of interest, Fergus' attention was caught on the other sword still strapped to Miara's waist; the shape of the sheath covered even the relatively wide hilt, allowing only the handle to be seen. "And that one?"
Miara sheathed Dragonbane back, "Ohhh, this one is a treat" She smiled all the wider as she pulled it out, enjoying the gasps and sounds of awe at the sight of Dawnbreaker.
"That's a magic sword!" One of the guards said with the same excitement a child showed when seeing something wondrous. And his fellows were inclined to agree, from the looks to the sheer light coming from the center of its ornate hilt, and there was no doubt the blade was magical.
Bryce had seen Maric's sword, a blade of dragon bone engraved with shining runes to channel magic power through enchantment, and seen more... uncommon weapons in his life, so he was somewhat familiar with what made a sword magical. And yet there was... something else about this blade.
"This is Dawnbreaker, the bane of the undead," Miara said proudly. "She's feisty."
"Where did you get such a weapon?" Marcus asked in fascination.
The elf seemed to consider her response for a moment. "You would not believe me if I told you," Which was probably best considering these people's faith.
Ser Ector leaned in; "The craftsmanship is remarkable!" He could not stop staring in awe at the beautiful weapon.
As he rubbed his chin, a thought came to Bryce: "Miara." He had gotten the elf's attention while showing the sword to the brothers and soldiers. "Would you like to see our blacksmith?" That got her attention as her ears twitched upwards. He took that as a yes.
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Bryce and his sons, Ser Gilmore and Ector, came to another open castle area with a familiar sight that made the elven nearly squeal happily. Miara was unsure if her love for smithing came from her aedric side, but it would make sense. The need to create something with her hands brought a sense of... fulfillment to her existence. Maybe that's why it all had come naturally to her at first, why she was taken with the craft since her early days. Perhaps she conceived Sarya and Oryrn to create a family for Sofie, something from her flesh and blood to love just like she came to love her.
Ahhh, forges smoldering with heat, hammers striking upon anvils in a rhythm that was music to her ears. Every time she heard the sound of metal being tempered took her back to those simpler days in Cyrodiil, that small village she had called home for many decades. An orphan had to work double as hard to make it through the day, and all things considered, she was luckier than most when that old orc took her as his apprentice. Oh, that old goat was not pleased with anything, but that was his way of encouraging her. There she had found her vocation and served as the town's blacksmith long after his passing.
Sometimes she wondered what would have been... but she now understood enough that life was never her fate.
But she'd always be smithing; it would always be her link to that past back when she was mortal. The dragon in her was disgusted; she even considered missing the days when she was just another mortal in this vast world. And while she would never regret her life now, there would always be a special place in her heart for that nostalgic past. So in forged her future with her past, in each hammer blow upon the metal.
At the Cousland forge were a dwarven man and woman dressed in smithing clothes, working diligently on their respected metals. "Masters Strokig and Bugnuda Greyback. They were from the smithing caste of Orzammar."
Miara blinked; "Aldous told me the dwarves in Orzammar don't leave their underground kingdom."
"Unless exiled or leaving voluntarily," Marcus clarified as they came closer; "I have a good friend in Orzammar, though she's as stubborn as a stone."
Overhearing them, Strokig, a bald man with a very thick red mustache and beard, looked over, "She's an Aeducan lad! Expect nothing less." The man chuckled as his wife looked up. "Lord Cousland! And whose this tiny elf with you?!"
Miara only smirked; she was used to smiths and their crass personalities.
"This guest has shown quite the knowledge regarding your craft."
The dwarven woman Bugnuda smiled as she cooled a blazing blade in the water. "Well, come on, so few enough people in this place appreciate the art."
Her husband laughed; "Ever seen dwarven smithing lass? You're in for a treat."
Ohhh, now they were talking. Miara eagerly walked up to them, ready to learn.
Sadly it was not yet to be.
"Sire!" A voice was suddenly heard, and their attention was driven to a soldier quickly running to the head of the Cousland family. "Sire, urgent news!" He was nearly out of breath.
"Easy there, son," The teyrn said, soothing with a hand. "What's wrong?"
"Reports from the vigil posts on the Storm Cost, my lord" There is a legitimate fear in the man's voice. "There have been sightings of a dragon; it's been flying too close to the local villages."
The eyes of everyone present widened; to say that was a dire development was a massive understatement. Miara herself narrowed her eyes. From what she gathered, Thedas had their dragons, but considering Tamriel's history, the dovah, and their nature, some things didn't... add up. So this presented an opportunity to investigate herself finally.
"What is it doing? Did it attack anyone?" The lord questioned.
"No, sire," The soldier replied with a shake. "So far, it hasn't attacked any settlement."
Bryce's gaze shifted as he paced around, analyzing the situation. His sons observed him. "A dragon is territorial, and if it's decided to settle down in the area too close to people, it will likely attack eventually..."
"The people there don't have the forces to fight off a dragon," Marcus stated grimly.
"I know we are to depart for Ostagar soon," Fergus said, "But we can't just take most of our forces away with a dragon right next to our doorstep."
"I know," Bryce sighed before turning to the soldier who delivered the message. "Summon my commanders; I will organize a hunting party."
"Nobody here has ever fought a dragon before, father. Not even you" Marcus shook his head. "There will be casualties."
Miara decided that it was time to cut in. "If I may," She said as she approached the men, "I could look into this matter myself."
The Couslands shared a look among themselves before looking back at her and her supposedly dragon-slaying sword. "You have experience hunting dragons?"
Miara grinned. "Some."
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Don't you love cliffhangers?