Enough self plugging, onto the story!
An Eye for Power: Blind
So…what about Ostagar?
Ostagar.
It’s one of those odd names that kind of trips off the tongue in a drunken lurch and falls flat on its face. My
mouth, wants to continue the word in some flowing manner, all elegant and dashing, there were those consonants mucking it all up. Whose idea was that anyway? Os. Ta. Gar. Garrrr, with the extra growl at the end, if you know what you are doing. It is not a kind word to the ear which makes strange sort of…sense, if you stop to actually think about it. This section of Thedas has always been more of a Chaisnd thing, as barbaric and untamed as its occupants. Who would name their daughter Flemeth? Highly unflattering, I would never do such a thing, and for that matter, who would name the last, functional remnant of the Tevinter Empire, Ostagar?
Os. Ta. Gar. Fortress, the very one in those tales I heard as a boy about the Blight, battles up and down these Wilds against the darkspawn, driving the fiends back underground where they lie in wait for another day. For a place often featured in such tales, I expected colours. Paints, or linen, or something other than crumbling, brown brick. I expected music, food, more than a little naive of me, I know, but Ostagar in all its dilapidated glory was disappointing. Now I know that Is very ungrateful of me and I know that you really can’t expect an establishment that’s been under siege by Darkspawn repeatedly to be…well to be like Denerim.
Ok? I know.
Perhaps what I really wanted, was some kind of sign. Battle against the darkspawn. The King's Army. Ostagar. A sign that I had something more to look forward to, than pain and blood.
Duncan was rather tight lipped about it, you know. All…mysterious and enigmatic. That way of answering questions that told you exactly what you asked to know, but still leave you wondering. The "in the coming days," or deference to “experts” that I just wanted to shake his manly beard right off (that beard makes me jealous, if I could grow one I’d be unstoppable) and demand that he would just...lay it out straight. Grey Warden. Great! No, really, that's absolutely fantastic! But what, aside from killing Darkspawn as our given duty, does that even mean? It's just, well, if he told me that being a Grey Warden meant that I could gain the power to summon a life supply of cheese, then look out Darkspawn, there would be a cheese related massacre-
"Alistair. Calm down, there is nothing to worry about." And if I could read minds like Duncan apparently could,
there would be no end to the mischief I would get into.
"How do you do that anyway? I was being quiet, minding my own thoughts, which were completely innocent by the way..."
That small, warm smile was something I had come to associate with "the man named Duncan." Accepting and, and safe. "Well, for starters..." the smile got bigger and I felt my shoulders tense. "I have been talking to you for the past five minutes." I...oops? “Preoccupying yourself with other things in order to distract…I admit to having
done the same on occasion but we are drawing near to the camp and I need your mind in the here and now.”
The mild admonishment strapped an iron rod to my back. Bad, Alistair. Bad. “I do find myself nervous, not too nervous, but a little about, well, the recruits you talked about, I just-“ I clamped my teeth onto my tongue to stop the babble. Count to ten. Discipline, what would the Revered Mother say? When she stopped staring down her nose at me. “It’s childish but I’m afraid they won’t…like like me.”
The moment Duncan’s brow furrowed I realised my mistake. “Like like?”
I floundered on how to explain. The like that was sort of above the apathetic non hate, but more of an instant friend thing, but not instant instant because that could be kind of creepy-never mind, deflect! “None of them would have any reason to kill me before I get a word off, right?” The mild look of alarm that passed through his eyes was not
reassuring. It wasn’t of the “this kid is going to die” variety but more of a “you know what? There might actually be a problem” type. That was all well and good, Duncan had just earned himself a new, armored and not at all very stealthy, shadow.
“Grey Wardens has long since accepted all types into their ranks,” he began but before he could get any further the loud clinking of armor and a shout stopped him.
“Ho! Duncan!”
“King Cailin!” My brain froze. “What are you- I wasn’t really expecting a-“
“A royal welcome?” Blond. Shiny armor. An easy grin I thought I had invented on his face. My stomach lurched and to hide it, I stood even straighter, almost bending backwards from the tension. “Think nothing of it, such things are the least I could do for the commander of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens. Come, can you imagine?” He swept out an arm and adopted a faux military stance, Duncan humoring him by doing the same. “The King of Ferelden and the Grey Wardens fighting alongside each other to stem the tide of evil! Glorious!”
And then his eyes found me.
I started speaking first, a strange, coldness in my toes somehow throttling my vocal chords. “Y-your Majesty.” If I bowed now, I would fall over.
It was like a candle had been snuffed out in the man. “It’s…well, it’s you.” His eyes searched my face and I haven’t a clue what it was he was looking for.
Duncan came to the rescue. “Your Majesty, this is the newest recruit from the chantry in Lothering” Or, tried to.
“That’s quite alright Duncan, no need to be so formal.” His eyes still hadn’t left my face. “We’re blood, after all.”
Modifié par Vul, 11 mai 2010 - 10:19 .
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