Fallen

by Twisted Fate MK 2

'Don't fall'. Hardly enough of a warning for what it truly meant, but... Jaune did fall. And he woke up in a strange land, far away from home, beset by its own darkness. There he will have to try and find his friends, perhaps a way home and, most importantly, a way to keep moving forward. Even after everything that's happened. Easier said than done...

8. Chapter 8

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"This is Ostagar." Alistair explained the night after they left Lothering, sitting in a small, tight-knit camp in a clearing by the road, tucked up against Bodahn's cart. The cart had little torches at the front and back, and they had a fire, which provided enough light for Jaune to see while the man traced out a long, winding road. "Up here, far to the North, is Denerim. The capital, which is where we're headed."

"Loghain will be there…"

"Aye," Bodahn spoke from above them, "but you won't be in the city. We'll make camp outside it, and I will do my business and see you get what you need."

"Food, you mean."

"Indeed." Bodahn nodded, "I, ah, hate to say it, but…"

"The Grey Wardens will thank you for the loan and repay it as soon as we may, you have my word." Alistair nodded, tracing down the map and humming, "From there, we could head south, to search for the Dalish camp somewhere down here by, or even in, the Brecilian Forest. Finding them will be hard, though."

"The Dalish rarely want to be seen…" Morrigan offered from across the fire, back to them so she could read a book by the light. "And they are masters at making sure you do not, unless something stops them."

"Or," Alistair went on, tapping Denerim again and tracing West, where he tapped a spot around the curve and down, along Lake Calenhad, "we head this direction, to Orzammar first and foremost. Or the Circle Tower. We have Treaties with the Circles and the Dwarves, and can call on either."

"Which is safest?"

"Orzammar is independent, and undergrounds." Alistair offered, tapping the two spots slowly as he thought. "Loghain can't have agents there, but… He also shouldn't have agents in the Tower. That is purely under Templar and Chantry hands. The Tower, though, does have, uh, one big problem."

"Which is?"

"He means me." Morrigan sighed, "I am an Apostate, meaning I was raised, trained and live outside the Circle. The Templars may very well kill me the moment they recognize this."

"We could draft you…"

"Try it," Morrigan scoffed, "and I will turn you into a toad."

"Morrigan…"

"And I still won't kiss you." Alistair added, chuckling and sighing, "Earnestly though, o' Witch of the Wood, it doesn't have to stand. We could draft you as a soldier for the Blight and leave it after. Or 'lose' you in the chaos after it's all over."

"I shall let you know when I trust you with that…"

"I mean," Jaune frowned, "what happens if we agree to that and we are lying?"

"I become the most wanted woman in Ferelden and Orlais alike, and likely well known beyond." She answered dryly, "I will spend my days hunted as a traitor to the heroes who saved the world. I may be confident and powerful, but…"

"Why take the risk?"

"Exactly, Arc." She nodded, still not turning from her book, "If we are to vote on the matter… I suggest Orzammar."

"They may be able to get you a new sword, too." Alistair offered quietly, flicking Jaune a sympathetic look and adding. "Or… Fix your old one. Either way, Dwarven work is some of the best in Ferelden. If you can get a good smith to do the work, it would probably do you a lot of good."

"Ah." He hummed, tapping the hilt of Crocea Mors on his waist. Shrugging, he said, "Well, I guess I vote Orzammar, too, then."

"And I don't really care, as long as we eventually head to Redcliffe. I know the Arl, and he'll be happy to host and help us get things taken care of." Alistair sighed, rolling the map up and smiling as Lelianna offered him a bowl of roasted potatoes and a second to pass over to Jaune. "Thank you. It smells lovely."

"It's a simple recipe, but a good one." She smiled, sitting between Alistair and Morrigan and holding her own bowl close. She flicked Jaune a thin smile and added wryly, "And not one the Maker showed me."

Jaune just rolled his eyes, took a bite, and grunted, "Thanks for the food."

The journey north to Denerim was one that started quiet, while they made their way along side-paths and avenues. But, eventually, even those were packed with carts, animals and people, all fleeing north. At least for now. Some he spoke to had thick accents Alistair said were from Orlais, and they said they were ultimately headed West. Others told Jaune they planned to head for the sea and sail elsewhere, to the Free Marches and Antiva and even a place called 'Tevinter' that Alistair curled his lips at, where mages apparently ruled the nation under their own chantry. It sounded like a strange place, entirely different from Ferelden, and Jaune could hear anxiety in their voices when they admitted it, but…

Jaune could understand their desperation and, from what they knew, Tevinter wasn't being hit by the Blight - which those headed there credited their powerful magic for. Whether they were right to, Jaune had no idea, but he didn't know enough to think he should discourage them. Alistair and Sten both disagreed, which was most of what the Qunari even said on their journey, but Jaune only shrugged and asked the more important question-

Did they have a right to tell people where to run to?

Morrigan said they did, of course, because it was Morrigan. But he wasn't so sure, and neither was anyone else but Sten… Who seemed to glower at the ground as they travelled after he'd had to agree with Morrigan.

Finally, though, they reached Denerim, climbing a massive hill towards a little fort on the wide, paved road about an hour's travel from the main gates. Bodahn left them there, directing them to a secluded clearing he knew of up the small river that cut around the front of the fort protectively. Even from there, though, the city was impressive.

It had tall, tower-topped walls covered in banners and made of off-white colored stone-work. Work that, distantly, reminded him of Vale - of Beacon. Before the smoke, and the ash, and- And everything. It was built at the base of a towering mountain, the Dragon's Peak according to Alistair, that it crept part of the way up. From his vantage, he could see the river that cut through it, flowing in from the sea on the far side of the city that he could just barely make out at the distance, past the haze of chimney-smoke, tanneries, and mist that clung to the waters of the bay. It was nowhere near as big as Vale, of course, but even so it was impressive.

Especially since they had built it all by hand, without electricity or the help it brought.

"Does this count as impressive then, Huntsman?" Morrigan asked as she stepped around the tree Jaune was sitting at, right near a ridge's dropoff where he could enjoy the view. Leaning against it, she went on, "Or, let me guess… The cities back home are much larger."

"Yes."

"They are?"

"I meant yes to both your questions." Jaune turned to smile up at her, "My cities are much larger, with buildings that stand hundreds of feet taller with walls made of glass and steel. But this is still impressive."

"Oh?" She sounded actually interested, "Truly?"

"To which…?"

"Yes." She smirked, blasting the ground with a burst of wind that scattered leaves and brush away over the ridge before she sat beside him, looking out at the city. "First - this actually impresses you?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Why?"

"Well… Back home, we have tools to make what we do. Huge machines running on, uh, well lightning, kind of?" Morrigan's brows rose and Jaune snorted, going on while he watched the city in the distance. "Dust does a lot, including that. With it, we can have one guy in a single machine lift a slab of, well, anything hundreds of feet up. Half a dozen guys put it into place and get out powered tools to put it in, and on it goes."

"Fascinating…"

"Yeah, but, here?" Jaune shrugged, "You all don't have that. But look at those walls! Every slab must have been pulled in, cut, stuck in place and secured all by hand. I mean, sure, you have tools too, and cranes and stuff, but-"

"One man can not lift an entire wall hundreds of feet up on his own?"

"I mean." He shrugged, "Yeah. So Denerim is impressive to me."

"It is impressive that we can overcome our primitive understanding and technology to build a fraction of what your people can? I see." Jaune shot her a look and, smiling thinly, Morrigan dipped her head just a bit. "I jest. Somewhat, at least…"

"Uh huh." He sighed, "Is that what you came for?"

"Pardon?"

"You're a lot like…" Weiss, Blake, even Ren to an extent, but even thinking of them stung behind his eyes. He shook the thought off before it could get worse and sighed tiredly, turning to watch the clouds instead, suddenly tired of the city. "You're like someone I knew, before I- You don't just come up to talk to just anyone. Not without a reason."

"You have such a jaded opinion of me…?"

"Morrigan." He chuckled, turning to raise his eyebrows at her. "You're not the coy type."

"I merely came to see what you thought of the so-called greatest city in my nation." She hummed, "And to learn some more of your own world…"

"Why?"

"Curiosity."

"That's all?"

"In terms of learning about your world? Yes. What practical use could I possibly have for knowing what kind of cities are built in your oh-so-advanced land?" It was a good point, and not one he really had an answer to, which made Morrigan smirk in that cocky sort of way of hers. He rolled his eyes and, seemingly satisfied, she went on, "I also came to speak to you about the Tower, and the Circle and Templars."

"What about them?" He asked, "We're headed to Orzammar first."

"What do we do if they sense your… Aura?"

"Alistair can't." He shrugged, "And the Templars at Ostagar couldn't either. I don't think Aura is magic."

"Not any familiar to Templars or to me, no, but that means little." Morrigan argued, opening a newer looking book and running her fingers over the pain, trailing ink from her fingertips somehow. "If it is a kind of magic, the Tower will certainly have powerful enough protections to feel you out. And I should not go into the Tower so brazenly. Even setting you aside I, most certainly, will draw eyes. And sword arms that belong to those gazes."

"Then don't come."

"I'm sorry?"

"We're just going to recruit mags for the fight." He shrugged, "You don't need to come. Talk to Alistair, find a place we can meet after."

"You may need my expertise…"

"I would rather do without your expertise and roll those dice than risk you." He sighed, shooting her a look and watching her blink in… Surprise? It looked like surprise, at least, though he couldn't guess at why. Thinking back to Alistair's map, and looking for a plan, he suggested, "We're going to take a ferry from a small fishing village to get to the Tower, once we leave Orzammar. If you're worried then, then we'll leave you there and come back after."

"...Very well." She nodded, "If you are so concerned with me."

"I'm a Huntsman, I have a duty to protect people. ." He answered simply, thinking of his friends and their sense of duty… And what that had brought each and every one of them. And one of them the most. Sighing, he murmured, "Or at least to try."

"I sense you do not mean the Warden Commander when you say that…"

"I don't." He grimaced at the fresh wound being prodded and shook his head. "But thanks for reminding me."

"I… Apologize." She sighed, clearly uncomfortable with it, as usual. He only shrugged and, sounding the tiniest bit desperate to move on, she asked, "Do you have any knowledge that could… Help you return home?"

"Only if you have a Relic." He snorted, shaking his head before he realised what he'd said

"A Relic…?"

"A, uh…" He frowned, considered what to say, and then wondered… Why did it matter? What could Morrigan possibly gain by knowing the details? So, he explained, "A Relic is one of four things, I, uh, don't know them all. One is the Relic of Knowledge, which could answer just about any question once."

"Once?"

"Once per century." He corrected, "It resets, every hundreds years, I think. The other is the Relic of Creation, which could make anything you had a design for. That one is how I got here. We created a sort of… Bridge, from one place to another, and I fell off it."

"You fell? What does that even…" Morrigan frowned, as if considering something for a long moment, before she sighed. "My curiosity is getting the better of me, forgive me. I will not press you for answers."

"I don't have any, to be fair." Her brows furrowed and he snorted, "I don't know how the Gods work, Morrigan."

"The Gods…"

"That," he sighed, "is a long story."

"We have time." Morrigan said, "And… I am willing to listen if you wish to share a long story."

"...Why?"

"Pardon?"

"You're not a comforter, Morrigan. Not for someone you barely know." Jaune didn't know her very well either, of course, but she was a very private person. And stoic, too. He hadn't been wrong to compare her to Blake or Weiss. Maybe in a few months she'd know him enough to offer to let him vent but now? "You have an angle… Don't you?"

"An angle…?"

"A reason to ask." He explained, "Some… Motive to ask, something to gain."

"...And if I do?" She asked, "What does that mean to you?"

"It means I won't share." Jaune frowned, watching the woman's lips quirk down and brows tighten just the tiniest bit. "At least… Not unless you tell me what that angle is."

Morrigan's frown deepened and, without another word, she stood and left. Jaune watched her go until she vanished into the trees, then sighed and shook his head. Turning back to the city, he watched it for a while and tried to puzzle out what, possibly Morrigan could have wanted to know. Or, rather, what she wanted to know for more than just mere curiosity. He couldn't think of anything, but then, he didn't know enough about this new world to have much chance of that. She could have any of a thousand reasons to want to know about his world, about how he'd gotten here, and more…

"Damn it." He sighed, "Why is everything always so complicated?"

Bodahn took two days and change to do his business in Denerim and come back, trundling up the uneven dirt road between little camps of squatters that were trying to get a pass at the fort they'd camped near to head into Denerim itself. Apparently, with the rush of refugees, the city was already overburdened by refugees and people passing through it and out the port to escape the Blight. When he did, he came with two carts, one driven by himself and the other by his son, which carried metal poles and canvas.

Smiling, Bodahn slapped the side of the cart as he walked up it, "Tents! Military ones. Cost a premium but, ah… Heading to Orzammar, you'll need them to ward off the cold."

"We will?"

"The only safe entrance is up a mountain." Alistair explained briefly, "Orzammar itself will be perfectly fine, but getting there? Ice cold."

"Ah." He nodded. Aura could protect him, sure, but burning it constantly like that was aggravating. And the others didn't have that, of course. "Makes sense. So, uh, how much do we owe you?"

"...Forty gold sovereigns, all told."

"Forty?!"

"I know it is a lot, Master Alistair, but… There's a war on, and merchants already sold the bulk of their product to the military, twice. And to mercenaries, and whoever else is on the march." Bodahn argued nervously, backing up a step from Alistair while the older Warden tucked at his hair and groaned. "R-Rest assured, I knew the expense when I agreed to work with your organization on credit! You won't be expected to simply pay it all off as soon as all is settled…"

"I figured, but…" Alistair sighed, "It's still a lot. And I'm sure the merchants could sell them for less if they wanted."

"Perhaps, but…" Bodahn shrugged, "Their purses come first. Such is business."

"Yeah, well…"

"It is the nature of their work." Lelianna offered quietly, "As the Chantry does charity by its nature, the merchantry does its own for greed."

"The Qun would not allow it…"

"The Qun would not allow me." Morrigan cut in sharply, "So I do not think we should over-value what it would allow."

"Hmph." Sten rumbled, muttering something in his own language Jaune didn't catch.

"I do find foreign tongues fascinating." Morrigan hummed, tapping her staff up and down lazily. "Why don't you educate me, Qunari? What, exactly, did you just call me?"

"We have a long way to go." Jaune cut in before the large man could do more than growl irritably. Turning, he asked the Dwarf, "Did you get the weapons and armor we requested as well, Bodahn? Or did you not have the funding after the tent?"

"Right back here, Good Sir Warden." Bodahn smiled warmly, apparently relieved that the quarrel - and the question of the sheer price of the tents - had been settled. He waved them towards his own cart, laden with barrels and crates of provisions and whatever else he intended to trade and where his son was patiently waiting. At a wave, the young dwarf turned, picked up a heavy trunk on top of the stack, and handed it down so Bodahn could set it in front of them and open it. Smiling, he gestured at the contents and nodded, "Understand, weapons and armor are rare in the city. Between thieves and refugee bands stealing them and fighting, and the confiscation laws and… Well, the army. So I did what I could."

'What he could' was, it turned out, fairly decent.

For Sten, he'd purchased a simple straight-iron greatsword as tall as the Qunari himself was and as broad as his forearms. It had a simple leather-wrapped handle and an equally simple iron cross guard, but the Qunari seemed satisfied with it. His armor was just as simple - a pair of iron-topped braces and armored boots, and a simple gambeson and dented iron breastplate that cut off at the shoulders. It wasn't much, they all knew - but it was already a far cry from going into a fight in foot-wraps and what amounted to a t-shirt and pants.

"It will do." Was all the Qunari said when Alistair asked him. "For now. Until I can find my sword…"

"The one you killed the family for?" The Qunari froze, halfway through sheathing it on a bracket-holster on his back, and Jaune crossed his arms. "Right?"

"...Indeed…"

"Finding it is important, then, right?" Alistair asked while Lelianna dug out her own gear. The Qunari paid him a look and the Warden shrugged. "I'm only asking because it, uh, seems important. To me, at least. Jaune?"

"I would hope so, considering…"

"It is, yes." The man finally sighed, "A Qunari's blade is assigned to them and, until it breaks or their station is altered, it is a part of them. To simply lose it…"

"Is an issue." Alistair sighed, "I suppose I can understand your panic when you woke up without it…"

"Indeed." He nodded, bowing his head. "Such does not excuse my actions, but… I am glad you at least understand."

"Logically?" Alistair snorted, "Sure. Literally every way but that? Not a chance."

"Hmph…"

"If it is so important," Lelianna offered quietly as she rejoined them, "perhaps I could… Do some searching, as we travel, to find it?"

"That would be kind…"

"Of course." She smiled, checking the draw on her bow and frowning. "As you said… I suppose this will do, for now."

Like Sten, she was only barely equipped, with a pair of long, dark leather gloves that ran up her arms and cut off just short of her shoulders. She only wore a gambeson, though, fitted at the shoulders and cinched by a belt at the waist with a long skirt topped by leather paneling. She had boots, too, but they were only leather. And she wore a simple green hood that hung loose around her shoulders more than her head, pooling with way more cloth than she needed. The bow, at least, looked powerful, standing as tall as she was with metal-tipped string-points and a thick leather grip. She drew an arrow from the quiver on her back and hummed, turning to fire an arrow in a test.

It punched into a sign fifty feet away without any trouble at all.

"Yes…" She smiled warmly, "This will very much do for now."

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The Sly Sage :

I'm, like, DESPERATELY inserting comedy wherever I can lol. Like, the start of this story NECESSARILY has to be darker than the ass end of the moon, but… Even I need SOMETHING lmao.

DragonTetho :

Hey now Lelianna is GREAT…

If you trust a religiously fanatical assassin- Okay, yeah, I see it now. That said, no ships are confirmed.