165 réponses à ce sujet

[Sisimka]

I really enjoyed the banter between Zevran and Oghren!

[MireliA]

I liked the thought of Zevran helping Aldanon to dress

[Maximus741000]

Things have once again been quiet lately, but I'm not relenting and there's more story yet to come for the patient few.

The Orlesian Wardens

In dreams, Aldanon treaded carefully across the distorted, obscure, barren and forbidding slopes of the Fade. Ever since his prolonged encounter with the Sloth Demon in the Fade, and acquirement of magical essences that enhanced his abilities, he had a stronger connection with the realm of dreams than he would ever want, so Wynne had explained to him once. Often, Aldanon would turn to his mage companions for advice on the Fade, as it was a realm they could understand more than non-magic folk.

However, here in this dream Aldanon wasn’t doing anything in particular, when suddenly a bird’s harsh, hoarse cry pierced the chilled, murky atmosphere. He turned up to see a large raven perched on a fade-tree, with black beady eyes and a glint of intelligence.  The pitch-black bird swooped down before him, and in a flash of magical light turned into a figure that needed no recollection; Morrigan.

Fear trickled down his spine like melting ice, he remembered Morrigan telling him not to find her, ever, and saw her presence as a breach of that promise he had made. The very last time he saw her was at the Battle of Denerim, blasting the archdemon with a jet of ice before it fell.
“Morrigan,” he began disgruntled; “I understand I was not to follow you, but invading my dreams?”
“Don’t take it so harshly, Aldanon,” he retorted wearily, “Do you not remember the good times we spent together?” she asked Aldanon, her tone smoothing out. But Aldanon was untouched and frowned.
“I think those times were made redundant when you left me.” he returned bitterly, luckily for him his anger was enough to melt Morrigan’s normally ice-cold heart to regret. Aldanon noticed her change of expression and changed the subject quickly. “How exactly did you leave Fort Drakon anyway?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, you would want to know,” Morrigan replied “well, when you were unconscious from your slaying of the archdemon, and as the soldiers were pursuing the retreating darkspawn, I turned to the ledge of the tower and fell off it before the dwarf or the elf could stop me, and transformed into an eagle and flew to freedom.” Aldanon stood amazed as she concluded her story; she had a knack for dramatic getaways.
“Then what brings you back here?” he asked, her look became straightforward and clear-cut.
“Since you kept the ring I gave you, and through my studying of the Fade, I have been able to create a dream portal in which we can communicate,” she explained, “for the news I bring is troubling.” Aldanon’s heartbeat quickened, but his expression firmed, telling Morrigan to explain what she meant.

“I have used Flemeth’s magic and been seeing Val Royeaux in dreams and in animal form and there is trouble afoot. In the dark corners of human minds, there is one who moves to strike you down.”
“What do you mean?” Aldanon asked, confused “Who’s this you speak of?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell for certain, for she has magic at her side as well and to try and come into contact with her might rouse the source and risk my exposure. But beware; what strikes me most is that her intents towards you are not conclusive with your death, and if they succeed, Val Royeaux will fall.” The dream dissolved around him.

Aldanon awoke with sweat sunning down his brow like a putrid river, the dream had racked his nerves badly. He left his sweat soaked end of the bed as soon as he realised it’s sad condition, he felt bad about ruining something so finely designed even though it was unintentional. The effect of Morrigan’s sudden appearance left him ill at ease, not least because he and she used to have romantic involvement, but because he was already developing a closer relationship with Anora.

He snuck out bed and wrapped himself his Redcliffe sleeping gown, and stole to the entrance and into the corridor in search of a warm bath. An early servant, still yawning from the necessity of getting up early, appeared in the before him in the corridor, he clapped his mouth to his eyes, unaccustomed to random traits from Royalty.
“Do you require bathing, my lord?” he asked cautiously, aware of Aldanon’s state.
“That would be nice.” Aldanon shivered; the cooling effects of the sweating taking hold.

                                                                                       ++++++++++

As soon as he was cleaned and dressed in a leather cuirass, he encountered his dinner companion Jacques, who was speaking with an armour-clad knight with a Redcliffe shield, reddish hair, defined features and a calm voice. Aldanon recognised Ser Perth immediately, why the knight had not introduced himself when they left Highever was curious. As he strode towards the speakers, their conversation became clarified.
“My position is head of King Aldanon’s retinue, and while I trust his safety in the hands of the Wardens, I would be grateful to escort the king on his errands than remain here with the rest of my men.”

“Understandable, Ser Perth, but this is something the king must do by himself. He will be safe among his kin.”
“If Ser Perth wishes the retinue to join me, then what’s to stop him?” Aldanon interjected, “I’m all for impressive displays, after all. But what of me requiring a retinue to begin with, Ser Perth?” he shook the knight’s hand enthusiastically before he could bow before his king. Perth regained his solemnity,
“The Empress Celene received word from the Grey Wardens of Orlais that you address them, regarding the ‘direst of current affairs’ or so I am told.” he explained, Aldanon’s veins quickened, he feared what this could mean. Was it the fact that he had survived, when Grey Warden lore dictated that he should have died?

“When do I leave?” he asked Perth uncertainly, the knight seemed unaware of his change of emotion.
“As soon as you’re armed and armoured up, and the retinue is ready to march. Anora will be staying here to discuss trade and other political relations with Celene, when you return the Empress will treat both of you with a tour of Val Royeaux’s merchant quarter.” Aldanon nodded in understanding and set down the corridor to leave.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

If there was any one part of the meetings that was to make Aldanon’s stomach churn, it was the meeting with the Orlesian Grey Wardens. The feeling of waiting on an inescapable event was what made the feeling worse, the way he saw it, they either learned the truth of his survival which would result in his expulsion, or he tried to convince them that he acquired a manner of help that they could accept.

Ultimately, it seemed like a situation he could not win over, the only hope was that they would be more interested in the situation with the darkspawn, whom had not disappeared, than the reason for his survival. The usual exuberant distractions of Val Royeaux were not enough to calm his uneasiness from the light of the fact that he was in dire trouble, or at least that was his summary of the situation. Usually he would address his friends for advice in the event of trouble, but with only guarding knights to speak to; he would have to contain himself.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

Upon getting a good view of the Grey Warden fort, Château-Gris, he was simply astonished; for he was reminded of Soldiers Peak in size and strength, but her condition was untouched and fortified. The symbol of the grey wardens, the griffon, could be seen from the highest of the ramparts in the form of griffon statues and carvings to perched griffon corbels and the griffon banner soaring in the wind. He had not seen so many monuments to the old Wardens’ steeds in one place before, this lead him to believe that this castle was made at a time when the mighty steeds still lived and bore the first grey wardens.

Aldanon struggled to attain a complete view of the castle, what he could make out were the great elevated turreted towers, the sweeping walls and the grey tile roof which covered the mighty. Château-Gris was made purely of rare Frostback marble stone, the castle itself sported towering curtain walls, defensive moat filled with water with and arched bridge, and cylindrical flanking towers, with a gatehouse and additional defensive turrets and rows of patrolling sentinels. Atop some of the larger and more prominent towers were great defensive structures which a passing guard referred to as trebuchets. His horse and retinue arrived at the entrance; a herald sounded his horn and another unfurled Aldanon’s banner. The guards stirred into action, the knights waited but a few seconds before the great iron-wrought portcullis reluctantly raised open, beckoning them to enter.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

Upon entering the vast stone courtyard, Aldanon was even more astonished; the keep was alive with activity; armoured men and women going about their duties, most who were within the courtyard were practicing their combat arts; from swordsmanship, archery, two-handed arms practice, and horsemanship. Their armour was unique from the other soldiers in Val Royeaux, more akin to Alistair’s Warden Commander Armour that he had found in Soldier’s Peak. The higher ranking officers donned heavy plate steel armour with silver or gold griffons emblazoned upon their breastplates and their shields, and heavy helms with silverite griffon wings or heavy chevalier-acquired visor-guarded armet helmets.

Most of their weapons were longswords of various materials, but some of the more powerful officers sported two handed greatswords. The other soldiers armour ranged from light and studded leathers for the archers, elves and rogues, medium chainmail hauberks, splint and scale mail armour, and barbute or capeline helms for the Warden infantry, and some more privileged humans and dwarves in heavy mail armour. Their weapons were even more various, ranging from traditional swords both great and small, to maces, flails and axes, many whom some dwarves also sported alongside heavy battleaxes and war hammers, and bows and daggers for the rogues and few elves. Further down the courtyard were the stables, and a display of stallions in formation, clad in full barding armour. Truly, this is an example the Ferelden Grey Wardens should follow, Aldanon thought.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

He and his retinue dismounted their horse and were received by a crowd of squired and wardens in heavy hauberks, as the squires escorted the horses to the stables and the Ferelden Knights gathered in formation behind Aldanon as one of the Orleisan wardens, a man in a silverite hauberk and a griffon helm stepped forth, he removed his helm to reveal well kept darkened hair, a hardened, moustached face with sideburns.
“Greetings, Aldanon Cousland of Ferelden,” his Orlesian accent was not as strong as Celene’s or any of her family’s and had a toughened quality to it, evidencing years of battling darkspawn wherever he found it. “I am Geoffrey Deren, Warden-Lieutenant of the Orlesian Wardens,” he continued, shaking Aldanon’s hand, his formalised address seemed put on and uncharacteristic to his stature, similar to Alistair’s attempts at formality.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay so far, my lord?” he asked, Aldanon abandoned his formality; for his nervousness was stayed the moment he entered the courtyard and held memory of Palais Royeaux
“Absolutely, Lieutenant Geoffrey, I’d even stay here were I not king.” He exclaimed enthusiastically, Geoffrey briefly smiled and nodded at the sentiment. But his sombreness quickly took over.
“The matters we must cover are serious ones, though the Blight ended, the darkspawn have not retreated. With you with us you must decide how the Ferelden wardens will govern the situation. Follow me.” Aldanon gestured to Ser Perth and the knights to remain behind, to which they obeyed calmly as he entered the castle.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

Within the vast halls of Château-Gris, more amazement awaited Aldanon. The stone walls were decorated with the arms and armour of past wardens, and murals and tapestries stood dedicated to the Grey Warden’s history. The hall was illuminated by torch light along the sides and the light of the sun streaking through the windows, and large enough for four arched doorways on each side to wind their way away and graceful stone pillars soaring up to the ceiling.

The rest of the grey wardens were assembling, at their head was an older man with grey linings of hair and a growing grey beard. He was clad in dragonbone plate armour and donned a silverite longsword and a red steel heavy shield and holding a sallet helm in his left hand. The way he carried himself was unique, he seemed to be wearying from having borne the taint for what must have been nearing 30 years, because the first traces of the darkspawn taint were beginning to take hold, but it seemed as if this man’s sheer will and determination have sustained him over his years as a Grey Warden.

“Greetings, Aldanon, I am Charles, Warden-Commander of Orlais. While I would extend further pleasantries, there is urgent reason for you to be here.” his deep voice became severe and the rest of the wardens started to gather around him, Aldanon felt the familiar chill down his spine return but maintained his calm bearing.
“The fact that you survived and encounter with the archdemon that should have naturally been your death, would raise many immediate questions.” he continued, Aldanon felt an instinctive urge to admit the truth of his survival, is this it? He thought bitterly. “But the truth is we simply have no time.” Charles concluded, and Aldanon let out a sigh of relief could unintentionally be heard by the other wardens. “It turns out that the darkspawn have taken our priority, so I have summoned the wardens and you here to take council.”

As he said, the other wardens joined around a circular table and he turned to sit at its head and beckoned Aldanon to sit by him. As soon as the hall was silent he began. “Though you have succeeded in stemming the Blight, Aldanon, the darkspan remain at large, the ones that were either strong or intelligent enough to withstand the dragon’s death remained behind or returned to the surface. As a result they scattered themselves across parts of Orlais, areas like the Dales and the Heartlands. Hunting them down has been the task of many knights but the fiefdoms have suffered as a result. While the records show of some darkspawn remaining after a Blight, never before has such a great number been seen. Reports are coming in of attacks along the Imperial Highway, and the Empress has called for all chevaliers to rally at Val Royeaux to defeat the darkspawn there, with our aid.” He paused and Aldanon sat still, his face hardened like stone, this was more than he had feared and suddenly believed that all this disaster had something to do with his intervention and capture of the Archdemon’s soul.

“But, if there’s a large darkspawn horde on the move,” he began, plainly alarmed, “has anyone had any indication of what could be leading them? Like a powerful darkspawn or just ravening instincts?” he asked.
“We do not know, a few of our scouts have ventured close enough to tap into the darkspawn group mind and there’s a hint of intelligence that’s motivating them. One of our men even reported something even stranger; a darkspawn that talks.” To this the entire hall broke into frightened murmurs, and Aldanon stared bewildered.

“What do you mean ‘talks’? Do you mean actual words or simply darkspawn gobbledegook?” he asked,
“So far as we know its actual words, and there’s a sinister intelligence to it that seems to be mustering the darkspawn. And this is the most urgent part; the darkspawn that roam the Orleisan countryside are mustering in the heartlands between Val Foret and Val Royeaux.” This was met by another surge of frightened murmurs and grim looks from the wardens. Aldanon’s insides trembled and churned, he truly had no idea of darkspawn movement in Thedas, their presence was not detectable but they evidently posed a significant enough threat to muster the Orlesian army.

The Blight may have ended, but their presence was not diminished, and now they were being led by forces that were both unknown to the wardens and most likely powerful, yet this was not an archdemon; that made them more dangerous than ever. But Aldanon regained his sense of reality around him and for a moment searched his feelings for an appropriate question.
“According to your estimates, Charles, how many darkspawn number this horde?” he asked,
“We can only guess around several thousand of them, and the horde is mustering to attack Val Royeaux. The horde is not large enough to take Val Royeaux, but large enough to test the defenders. This is why we need you here, Aldanon; to rejoin your brothers and finish the darkspawn in Orlais, politics, leisure and ceremonies are transitory. Normally we would elect the relevant Warden Commander, but with you as king and warden our chances can double.” Aldanon continued to stare into his aged eyes, mulling all that he had been told.

“What must I do, commander?” he rose from his chair, action taking over. Charles smiled and rose from his chair, and with a gesture of his hand a group of wardens assembled before him. Geoffrey was among them, alongside a tattooed Dalish elven archer with dark plaited hair and bronzed skin clad in the traditional leathers of her people and carried herself with the same fierce pride as the rest of her people. Another elf with paler skin, softer features and dark, well kept hair in red elaborate robes that marked him an elf of the Circle of Magi, but his most defining feature was a black flame tattoo over his right eye. There was a stout dwarf with a great black beard in dwarven Legion plate armour with a war axe and round silverite shield; he looked more like a war machine than a dwarf in all that armour. And a huge man with sharp features and black stubble clad in red steel chainmail and with a longsword in one scabbard and a shortsword in the other, his conduct seemed brusque and uninviting.

“These wardens are to be under your command, Aldanon. Take them to Palais Royeaux and keep them with you at all times. I must remain here to instruct the Wardens here. However, they will be our main contact link as we prepare for battle. You can continue to go about your time in the city, all I ask is that you take up your arms in purpose of war when the darkspawn come. Until then, bonjour.” He bowed his head respectfully and Aldanon returned the courtesy, and the old commander dismissed the crowd and left the hall. Any further questions did not need answering from Charles. But perhaps Morrigan could be of help.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 07 mars 2010 - 11:03 .

[Sisimka]

Phew, long chapter, you've been saving this one up for a while! Still reading, still liking!



(btw, I could hear Ser Perth's voice in my head!)

[MireliA]

It did make me wonder if Morrigan wants something in return for her news. Even to those she likes, there always seems to be a cost.

[Maximus741000]

Thank you for keeping interest so far. And hat point you made about Morrigan is true, Mirelia, I'll see about it.

Across the Waking Sea

For the Sea Dragon to get into Val Royeaux, all nearby sea traffic had to be grounded or diverted for her to pass by. This included fishing ships, trade ships and ferries. For one intrepid traveller, the same one who stopped at the Silver Antler near Lydes, this meant every problem in the world. Her undying resolution to get to the capital would not stop because of a minor change in sea traffic. At Lydes dock, the local Baron had ordered all sea traffic to be halted due to the arrival of an ambassador ship from Ferelden.
“Surely you can’t abide by this, captain;” she addressed the captain calmly, yet with a note of impatience in her voice “Surely you would not sit idly by just because of another large ship coming in. You would sail across and claim your sovereigns at the appointed time” this tactic would normally work on most men, her sweet, velvety and heart-warming voice had that effect on most men when she wanted it to be, but this man was more interested in abiding by the law of the local lord then doing what a strange girl told him.
“For the last time, mademoiselle,” he said firmly “This ship is not going anywhere until we are permitted to cross by the Baron. They are his orders, not mine. What strikes me as curious is the fact that you seem more desperate to reach the capital than anyone.” The girl was in no mood for excuses, but neither was he.
“I’ve already told you, my mother is sick and dying, I need to get back to her with these herbs to heal her.” She claimed firmly, if almost pleadingly. The captain shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Look, I’m no fool, woman! I don’t see or smell any such herbs on you, and the nose for it runs in my family. Just wait until the Baron declares it safe.” The young woman stormed off the pier down the road out of the docks. This is appalling progress; she thought to herself, how am I going to get to Val Royeaux?

                                                                                    ++++++++++

Later that day, she had managed to acquire a view of the docks from a hill a few hundred yards away, and unwrapped her lunch and let loose from her backpack a small pink creature with whiskers and rabbit-like ears; a nug, which she kept referring to as Schmooples, to feed on the grass. The Lydes docks were quite beautiful in the early sunlight, the dew on the grass leaving a golden glistening in the sunlight, and the torrential waves rocking to and fro along the beach. From across the Waking Sea could be seen the very edge of Val Royeaux, amidst the sweeping hills and mountains that surrounded her. The town of Lydes itself was alive with activity, and she could see the merchants calling out to sell their wares, guardsmen on patrol, and commoners at work, to think this could have all been destroyed by the Blight. She was an extraordinary traveller; taking joy in the little things and able to extend kindness to strangers, it radiated a charm that enchanted the people she spoke with.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

She had waited for some time before she noticed another small trade ship, a small schooner built for speed and light trade, preparing to leave, and a finely dressed man talking, who she decided was the Baron, and a group of scruffier men who were similar to the ones preparing the ship; the sailors. She packed her food and her nug, wrapped her chantry robe tightly, raised her hood and ventured down the hill. Choosing to slip past the buildings and she managed to venture close enough to listen in to their conversation. It seemed as if they were being given permission to set sail by the reluctant Baron. This was her chance to get on board, while the other men were distracted. She carefully, yet hastily snuck onto the pier, like a cat slinking into hiding. Looking carefully behind her as the crew set about to leave, her brown chantry robe helped her not to stand out. With a few quick movements, she leaped aboard and stole below deck.
                                                                                     ++++++++++

It was dark, damp, dank, drear, and dull below deck, where our traveller remained for her voyage. She managed to use her cleverly concealed dagger to carve a hole in the ship’s hull large enough to see the sea around her. For a while nothing could be seen, and she began to grow dissatisfied. Suddenly, great bugles could be heard. She stirred about, trying to find the source through her looking-hole when suddenly a huge ship blocked her view. She could not see more other than the ornately carved hull of the vessel. Dissatisfied, she cast aside her chantry robe, revealing a set of very brazen leather armour, which highlighted her graceful, slender body and features. She swung her bow and backpacks across her back and dashed for the exit.

 Once out, she could see the soldiers running frantically across the ship, as if they were under attack, fortunately for her this meant they would not notice her. She could see Val Royeaux’s mighty body much closer now, roughly a few miles away and close to landing. The ship was veering starboard very roughly, away from the city docks, for on her left could be seen a giant vessel with a prow shaped as a High Dragon’s head, an ornately carved hull, and a strange flag bearing the Cousland symbol and other Ferelden heraldry. She recognised her as a war vessel but she wasn’t engaging any aggressive manoeuvres. Aboard the new vessel, she could hear Ferelden accents shouting from across the distance, none of them she recognised though. Suddenly it seemed as if the sunlight glinted aboard the ship, for on board was a man clad in golden armour with a dragon’s head carved upon it. The man had neat dark hair and a fine moustache and carried himself with a familiar nobility. She would have recognised him if he was covered in darkspawn blood; Aldanon Cousland.

                                                                                     ++++++++++

Leliana broke into a fit of joy, she laughed and leaped about, calling Aldanon’s name but to no avail, the trade ship continued on her course away from the Dragon. Her heart began to sink. She had always remembered and respected Aldanon because he had always taken the best possible course to achieve good ends, even after she learned of his involvement with Morrigan and would not fault him. When he became engaged to Anora, she encouraged him saying that some good could still come of it. Ever since she left him in Denerim, and learning of Morrigan leaving him, she still supported him; but now there was something new about him. There was now a new objective: get to Aldanon.

Suddenly one of the soldiers noticed her and drew his cutlass, fearing her to be a spy and a stowaway. Faster than lightning, she drew her two silverite daggers. The draw blocked the sailor’s cutlass. Their blades tore through the air as one tried to cut the other up. But Leliana needed to get away and off the ship, to her left she noticed a barrel of grease. Suddenly she leaped atop it, the sailor swiped at her legs but she had already leapt from the top of the barrel to deck. With a swift, strong kick, the barrel had knocked him to his knees and covered him in slippery grease. The rest of the sailors swiftly noticed her presence, and drew their blades. Leliana scrambled like a cat onto the rigging, up the crow’s nest, and cut the ropes down before the sailors could reach her. But she was far from safe, archers were loading their arrows, and preparing to fire.

She sprung to the next mast and unfolded an arrow that was coiled in a special, extra hard elvish rope; she was going to jump ship and try to board the Dragon. The archers were positioning themselves and the other sailors were climbing up. She worked quickly to fasten the arrow, and fired onto the Dragon’s topmost mast, which was now beginning to shrink as she sailed further away. She spoke a silent prayer as the arrow soared across the growing distance. It hit it's marl. She thrust herself from the smaller ship, flying perilously across the water. She let go. And just then, she landed on the higher deck of the Dragon, all hands were busy and did not seem to notice her for there were several other women sailor there, so she was safe. For now.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 07 mars 2010 - 11:22 .

[MireliA]

A shame the sick mother excuse didn't work. And I didn't expect her to still have that nug.



Like it so far

[Maximus741000]

Glad you're still interested, Mirelia, as for the nug, well it appears virtually anywhere safe to tread with Leliana, you even see it at the post-Coronation scene.

[Sisimka]

I am pleased to see Leliana's 'official' entrance!

[MireliA]

Maximus741000 wrote...

Glad you're still interested, Mirelia, as for the nug, well it appears virtually anywhere safe to tread with Leliana, you even see it at the post-Coronation scene.

That would explain why I've not seen it. My first character is the only one to get to the coronation and I've only picked up the nug recently.

[Maximus741000]

Time for a new update, I think before I lose track of where it's going.

Friends Old and New

Aldanon sat on an armchair by the hearth, his eyes lost in the dance of the fire, and his thoughts just as much, for he was still taking in the Warden Commander’s words. He knew that there were small bands of darkspawn in the lands, but a whole horde in Orlais? And what was all this talk about a darkspawn that spoke? These questions and more hung on his head, unable to find answers. But it wasn’t the fear of darkspawn approaching the city that worried him, but Morrigan’s words that there was a greater force hidden behind these events. He felt a hard, mail-clad hand hit his pauldron, he looked up and saw Geoffrey had returned with a series of maps in his hand.
“We need to discuss strategy, Aldanon.” He said stoically, Aldanon nodded and joined him.

Aldanon followed Geoffrey to one of the towers in the castle, which when shown was the war room, there were warden tacticians planning around a large, round wooden table, where a huge cloth map of Orlais was positioned, there were also an exceptional number of book cases situated around its walls, most likely history books detailing famous battles. For the next few hours there, he would be deliberating with the other wardens of the possible numbers of the impending darkspawn, the numbers of defenders in Val Royeaux, city defences, and possible aid. From what he could learn, Geoffrey was able to draw up a strategy. The darkspawn were approaching from the Heartlands in the southwest and had passed Val Foret, so the first thing to have done was form the Grey Wardens and the city soldiers along the walls of the city to hold them off, while the Empress’s chevaliers would position themselves along the Imperial highway, away from the horde.

Aldanon suggested meeting them in the open at Val Foret, but was assured that they were heading straight to Val Royeaux, and given her size and defences their chances would be better. He also suggested calling the soldiers of Montfort to come, due to their being situated along the Imperial Highway, and so could come in great speed, it was soon validated. Once the darkspawn had committed themselves, a scout would alert the chevaliers to charge from the north, and another to encircle the horde and charge from the west, crushing the darkspawn between the sea and the city.

Realistically, it was well conceived, but it reminded Aldanon too much of Ostagar, and how Loghain ignored the belated signal fire from the tower. Geoffrey recognised that anything could go wrong, but assured him that treachery at critical military moments would be treason. But the reason they needed Aldanon with them, was to get to Celene and convince her to consent to sending the Orlesian army, for he was already in good company with her. Once they had settled the decisions Aldanon set forth with Geoffrey.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

He met his knights in the courtyard, who were given permission to practice their skills with the wardens, and won. His group was assembled by the portcullis, the elven mage, the dalish ranger, the dwarven soldier, and the gruff weapon specialist.
“Wardens, attention!” Geoffrey barked; they stood smartly to it, breasting a hand to their chest in the formal Grey Warden salute, bowing their heads at their new commander, but Aldanon gestured them to be at ease.
“Rest assured, my fellow wardens that I look forward to fighting alongside you against the blighted creatures,” Aldanon addressed them in his usual charismatic greeting, “Just as I got to know Warden Commander Alistair, I intend to do the same here,” he stepped towards the young elven mage with a casual smile, and said “Greetings, may I know your name?” the mage stood straight and answered;

“Osecar of the Ferelden Circle of Magi, Lord Aldanon.” He spoke in a numinous Ferelden elf accent, Aldanon was quite taken aback and had expected an Orlesian mage, his curiosity was peaked.
“Indeed?” he asked intently, “I don’t seem to recall seeing you at the Ferelden Circle tower, do you know Senior Enchanter Wynne?” the mage nodded, a familiar smile on his face, brushing a loose hair strand aside.
“I know Wynne, she was my tutor for most of my life there before I was harrowed. As for why I wasn’t at the tower, Irving sent me on a mission to Orlais to find out why the Orlesian Wardens were being stopped by Loghain, at Wynne’s behest. I ended up hunted by Loghain’s knights around the mountains until they crossed Orlesian ground and the wardens took me in, warning me that I would be hunted if I returned, and offered to take me. My specialization in primal spells won me my place with them, and they are yours.” He bowed his head in respect, and Aldanon moved to the dwarf, who was clad in dragonbone dwarven plate.

“Allow me to spare you some time,” he began before Aldanon could start, in a deep, hoarse  voice, “I am Durin of House Dainur, distant cousin of the royal family, and warrior caste, once of the Legion of the Dead before I ended up topside here in Orlais and found the wardens, by accident. I’ve fought more darkspawn than most of these wardens have. But my axe is yours.” He bowed his head in respect and Aldanon moved to the next warden, who raised his hand to prevent greeting, in orer to cut to the main business.

“Argeles is my name, sir.” He said in a rural orlesian accent, “I’m expert with the sword and dagger, and once of the Orlesian army. But I chose to serve a wiser course, by becoming a Warden when word of the Blight reached me, only I survived the Joining.” He nodded and Aldanon turned to last but not least, the elf, who ignored his bid for greetings. Aldanon stood stunned by this, he was familiar with the Dalish distrust for humans, but she was a Grey Warden first and foremost, racial jargon was irrelevant, and so he tried again.

“Fine, if you must know,” she submitted to him, in her calm, but unmoved voice “my name is Elanea, hunter of the Dalish tribe of Mearasthra. At least until my clan was ambushed by darkspawn, I was found by Osecar, who was wandering the Dales at the time. I answer only to him, for he’s elven and a good man. Respect my solitude, and my bow will aid you.” She did not bow her head, but Osecar prompted her to do it. Aldanon moved eagerly away from her, for he hadn’t forgotten the guilt he felt when he first met the Dalish. The knights had gathered around him and the grey wardens around Geoffrey, and Aldanon’s horse was ready to go.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

The Empress told him to meet the Royal group in the Merchant Quarter of Val Royeaux, and to ease the passing through the city on foot, he had asked the knights to take his horse back to the palace and to return there, and that he would be safe in the company of his new grey wardens. Whilst travelling, he managed to learn a lot from them, primarily their abilities in battle and their personal interests. Geoffrey’s weapon art was focused in the traditional sword and the shield, in his spare time he collected figurines of some of Thedas’s most magnificent creatures like dragons, griffons and phoenixes.

Osecar had recently uncovered the ancient Arcane Warrior arts from dalish ruins, combining it with his elemental spell craft had created a fearsome reputation, he also enjoyed collecting magical artefacts out of personal enjoyment, which he studied for enchantment. Elanea was as the most skilled with the bow in her tribe, and as a ranger could call wild beasts to her side, Aldanon even managed to learn that she was nonetheless curious of the human world and enjoyed books concerning their history. Durin was the finest shield arm in the Legion and mastered the war axe, and had a unique taste for special cuts of meat, similar Oghren’s love of alcohol. And Argeles was the Wardens’ dual weapon fighter fighter, he also collected daggers and assortments of armour which he said was cobbling together to form a composite set of armour to enable maximum use of his weapons.

By the time he arrived at the Market District, he was reminded of Denerim’s market district and the Orzammar commons, and realised how they both paled in comparison. There were shops and stalls lining every street, the most common ones being clothes shops, where suits and dresses could be seen in each and every one of the shops’ windows, and the people who walked the many avenues were akin to how Leliana would often describe them; the women were dressed in the most tempting dresses they could afford, and the hairstyles, which followed the many trends at the time, ranged from inanely exuberant to simple and natural. The gentlemen would clad themselves in striking suits, often with a weapon of choice, purely for show of course, and besting other men in friendly tournaments to the amusement of their ladies of choice. And judging by the growing number of interested girls, it seemed Aldanon was no worse for wear. But the company he kept, and the firm looks of their fathers kept them at bay, it seemed Fergus was mistaken.

There were so many shops to satisfy everybody’s taste that it gave Aldanon an idea; to help the new wardens become more akin to friends than colleagues, he would take advantage of the market’s treasures. Before he could move to any particular shop, a familiar sight caught his eye, an elderly woman with silver hair, a gently wrinkled face, with a silver staff slung across her back and familiar red robes. But this time, she seemed more frustrated than usual, for she was haggling with a merchant about a strange looking artefact. Once he had a good enough view he knew for certain; it was Wynne. Without a moment’s thought, he dashed across the market road towards her.

                                                                                    ++++++++++

“I assure you, madam, six sovereigns is too low a price for a quality shop like this one!” the merchant argued to Wynne, whose brow was furrowed with annoyance, and sighed impatiently.
“Your prices are too high, merchant. In Ferelden, seven sovereigns would be bordering profiteering! Six is a decent enough price, and the same could apply to all your wares, you would still make a healthy living.” She appraised the merchant, almost persuasively, but the merchant huffed angrily.
“Look, if I wanted a lecture I would have returned to my old schoolmaster. Either buy it or don’t, madam, but it won’t matter. Your Ferelden ideals don’t mean anything here.”
“Maybe not, but does seven sovereigns mean something?” Aldanon asked past Wynne, who turned with surprise and gasped in joy. Aldanon opened his arms; she flew into them, chuckling delightedly. Before long she remembered the last time they saw each other, he was named Anora’s king-consort, and nearly bowed.
“Please, Wynne, no need,” Aldanon said, “I am just as pleased to see you again too.” Wynne’s smile had almost melted his heart, and she was almost at loss for words.

“To think that you were coming to Orlais for any reason would have left me to believe otherwise,” she said, “What brings you here? Is this grey warden or kingly business?” she gestured towards the new grey wardens who stood where he left them confused, except Osecar who joined them, smiling to see his old mentor.
“Wynne, welcome to Orlais,” he embraced her fondly, “You’re probably wondering what happened after I left the tower.” He said to Wynne, whose expression became more serious and troubled.
“I do, but there’s also more that you must know, and once we find somewhere indoors for me to tell you.” Aldanon remembered what she meant, and of the nasty business at the Circle Tower with the mages nearly wiped out, but he was eager to delay that for another time.
“Anyway,” he interjected “Empress Celene told me to meet her around here, perhaps you would like to join me Wynne?”
“Of course, and by your mention of Empress Celene, how could I refuse?” she chuckled, and joined Aldanon’s side. Osecar’s newfound acquaintance with Aldanon would make this most interesting, and that he had a new band of adventurers at his side, proved to be too irresistible an adventure for Wynne.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 20 mars 2010 - 03:56 .

[Sisimka]

Aldanon is certainly having a fine time in Orlais. Again, your descriptions are marvellous. It was nice to meet the new cast of characters. I liked the Durin especially.

[Maximus741000]

He may be enjoying himself for now, but don't forget the darkspawn threat, and the enemy who lurks behind all these events. Things will get more interesting. Rest assured.

[Imperator_Valentine]

Just wanted to say you've got yourself a new fan. Read through the entire piece yesterday night and enjoyed every bit of it. I especially liked the insight into the certain awkwardness that Aldanon feels in his new position. I had a HN Game that ended similarly and I remember how ambivalent I was about the outcome of the story for my hero.



Needles to say I am eagerly waiting to see Marjolaines deadly plot spring into action!

[westiex9]

hehe this story gets better and better!

[MireliA]

Glad to see Wynne join the mix and am intrigued to see where you'll go with the new characters. Liked the spiky Dalish elf

[Maximus741000]

@ Imperator_Valentine, a new fan is always welcome, I'm delighted you like it!

@ westiex9, thank you very much, stay tuned!

@ Mirelia, we still have more story to get through, I'm glad that you're interested!

Now, it's time for another installation!

Afternoon’s Rest

Aldanon managed to gain some time to talk with Wynne, and she told him that after delivering Shale to Tevinter, she sought to enjoy the last few years if not months of her life. After Tevinter, she travelled south through Nevarra before finally settling in Val Roeyaux over a two month phase. Based off what Aldanon could remember about Empress Celene’s instructions, they were to meet the royal group in the northern part of the Merchant Quarter, but the intrigued looks on his new companions faces kept him waiting for them. Often Aldanon and Wynne would smile at their enthusiasm appreciatively, remembering that they were still rather young people like Alistair and himself, rather than grizzled and stoic like Duncan or Riordan, that there was another side to the duty and honour part of the grey warden life, the part of their lives that they would learn to cherish.

He contemplated what Alistair had said about when he was with the old Ferelden grey wardens that they were quite a group, in his own words, and really enjoyed themselves, like the time when the Anderfel warden Gregor bested them all at a drinking contest by a pint for every one of their half pints, treating every free moment like it was their last. Aldanon had known that they knew what would eventually come. Wynne also reminded him how he had taken to Morrigan’s allure, and eventually approved to it, but Aldanon insisted that they kept off that subject. He loved Morrigan, and Anora was more like an old colleague, and he told Wynne that while romantic measures were taken before, but they seldom ever truly worked.

                                                                                     ++++++++++++

He continued to survey the crowds until he heard the sound of applause coming from the Palace Way; Empress Celene and her courtiers, Anora, and Zevran and Oghren bickering heatedly, were striding through the crowds of elated citizens. It was clear that Celene was a popular ruler with the people, known as the one who had moved Orlais into an age of art and beauty, public appearances were commonplace and to the joy of the public, nobles and commoners alike. Aldanon and his party meandered towards them, and bowed to Celene and her party, the wardens followed jointly. Celene paced towards Aldanon, gesturing him to rise.

“Ah, Aldanon, it’s good you’ve joined us, we feared the wardens were taking you up.” she said in her usual serene voice, stealing a kiss on the hand from Aldanon while Anora was rapt by the beauty of the market.
“There is a matter of procedure I would like to discuss with you on the wardens’ behalf, Celene,” he began calmly, “About their enemy returning to threaten the city and must be dealt with.” He added gravely, Celene nodded, her expression sombre. She knew what Aldanon meant, and cast her head down in thought.
“Soon, perhaps during the next set of discussions, but first enjoy yourself in the market.” She said finally. She bid Aldanon farewell and moved off with while he turned his attention to Anora, and embraced her warmly.

“The conferences, how did they go?” he asked, somewhat eagerly, Anora stared at him surprised.
“They actually went quite well, the Empress agreed to my terms of allowing most of their tailor-made goods come to Ferelden in exchange for Ferelden’s newest inflow of dalish and dwarven crafted weapons. She also consented to Ferelden gaining the mountain valleys beyond Jader, which is soon to be the main centre of Ferelden and Orlaisan trade!” her voice rose to excited scopes and pulled Aldanon in for a kiss, which took him by surprise to say the least. Once things cooled down a bit, he moved towards the still bickering dwarf-elf duo.
“I told you once, I told you a thousand times, dwarf,” Zev disputed hotly “You are about as much a ladies’ man as my hair is a mabari’s tail.” The dwarf  madly laughed off the elf’s choice of words.

“That’s because it is you skinny weasel, and I’m about to prove that once and for all with my newly developed Orlesian language of love. HA!” he pointed, Just as Aldanon approached them both.
“Hello, you two.” He interposed; they stopped and turned, and only succeeded in drawing him in.
“There you are, I was about to prove this dwarf’s social graces for all to see.” Zevran nudged at Oghren.
“Ha! I would have expected that from you,” he grunted, and turned to Aladnon, “hey Aldanon, I’ve been learning some Orlesian pickup lines for the ladies, heh. Syphilitique nuget!” he added hoarsely, Aldanon stared at him, confused. “What do you think about that, eh? Eh?” he added enthusiastically, Aldanon looked sick.

“You just called Aldanon a syphilitic nug, Oghren.” Zevran smiled craftily, Aldanon sensed he had something to do with Oghren’s new language development. Just then the other wardens; Geoffrey, Argeles, Osecar, Durin and Elanea approached with confused looks evident across their faces, Zevran’s humour turned to indignity.
“Ah, I see it didn’t take that long for you to replace us.” He said in a toneless voice.
“They’re not replacements, Zev, they’re just new companions.” Aldanon replied defensively. Suddenly, he Oghren yelled out in defiance and trundled off towards a pair of finely dressed, rather attractive, noble’s daughters. Zevran chuckled and leaned on Aldanon’s shoulder. Osecar and the others gathered around Zevran.

“I’ve been treating our dwarven friend to a new language of love, now let us watch and observe.” Just as Oghren had strutted up to them, he began uttering a long string of sentences in orlesian. You, yeah you, lend me your rears! Your rears! He said hideously, gesturing at their chests, the girls glared at him disgusted, find your own cravings and go away! One of them slapped him so hard he made an audible grunt. Aldanon stood there staring in shock with Zevran leaning smugly on his shoulder looking on at the scene as Oghren continued. This is not a goat’s tail! He gestured at his trousers, one girl wailed in disgust and almost fainted, the other called out; the dwarf’s gone mad! Call the guards! A pair of guards looked suspiciously at the mad dwarf, but Oghren reacted quickly and called out to them; No! Don’t call the pigs! Lend me your rears! He persevered, and advanced in mock menace towards them; Brontos are in my bed! Many, many brontos! Before he could proceed the two guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him off, still cursing in Orlesian.

                                                                                     ++++++++++++

When Zevran finished laughing at the dwarf’s predicament, Aldanon frowned at him, clearly not amused by the act.
He folded his arms and stared at Zevran, “You’re a real douche, and you know it!” He growled grimly.
“Who cares, he got arrested!!” he screamed gleefully and collapsed laughing. Elanea stared at Aldanon.
“Does this sort of thing happen all the time between your companions?”she asked, utterly staggered.
“More often than you think.” Aldanon answered shortly, and the archer’s tall brow shot up an inch. Geoffrey changed the subject with urgency. “Did you speak with the Empress? What did she say?” he asked.
“Well, she said she would talk about it once we returned to Palais Royeaux, but until then the Market is ours to enjoy.” Aldanon said with an enthusiasm rising with the mention of the market.

With Oghren trying to escape his fate, the group could enjoy peace from the rowdy dwarf. Anora had given Aldanon a fresh supply of sovereigns to spend in the market, the first thing we wanted to do was to find presents for the new companions in order to let them warm up to him. He went with Wynne, Osecar and Geoffrey to a Magical Artefacts store called The Lyrium Orb and with Wynne’s advice, he learned what Osecar specifically liked and gave him a staff that Wynne had been saving for his return and a tome of spell craft.

Geoffrey also expressed an interest for a marble high dragon figurine, a granite cerberus carving and an amber phoenix that was warm to the touch, Aldanon bought them all and the two friends was quite thankful for his consideration, he also spotted a book that contained much of Orlais’ history put into bardic song, and another of the creatures that walked Thedas, a perfect gifts for Elanea. Argeles was taken to the blacksmith shop; Chevalier’s Arms and Aldanon bought him a pair of drakeskin scabbards for his blades, a new helmet, and an enchanted set of chainmail gauntlets. When found an inn to eat, Durin wanted an expensive lamb course which the house allowed him to finish outside the Inn, which Aldanon paid for; the grateful dwarf gave him one of his lamb bones to gnaw on. His taste is rather odd, Aldanon thought.

When he managed to catch a quiet moment with Elanea, he presented the books. At first she brusquely responded to this as an attempt to buy her loyalty, but Aldanon firmly told her to refuse the gifts if she did not want them, ultimately she could not refuse and accepted them. He only wanted her to understand that he would wish no ill on her for any reason.

                                                                                     ++++++++++++

Zevran, ever the wily rogue, saw an exotic charm in Elanea, to resist her wild beauty proved too much for him. As they rested in the inn, he casually weaved his way towards her, a bold smile on his face.
“Tell me, Elanea, what was your role in your Dalish tribe?” he asked smoothly, the charm working.
“Well, once I was the best hunter in the tribe, indeed the finest in the Tirashan wilds.” She said, fixing on him.
“In my day, I was considered the wildest youth in Antiva City.” He said, his exotic voice washing over her, “And hunters specialize in wild beasts.” He added cheekily, Elanea smiled at his notion.
“That’s true,” she said, "But when it comes to who's hunter and who's hunted, you can never be certain."
“Truly, so am I to be your prey?” Zevran asked, grinning, Elanea was not used to this foreign way of love.
“Assassins are akin to hunters, are they not?” she asked, letting it come, “I rather think we would be competing for prey rather than hunting. Perhaps we can indulge in such matters outside.” The two elves departed for the street. Aldanon and Wynne who had seen the flirtations shared confused looks with each other and shrugged.

Oghren returned, he was drained from his encounter from the guards, and eyed Zevran with his new escort, growled and charged headfirst, roaring as he went, yelling “I’m gonna kill you!!” Zevran saw the threat and dodged the charging fist, but Oghren careered into Durin, who had just finished his roast, and immediately ended up sprawled out on the floor. The two dwarves looked up at each other and recognised each other.
“Wait, I do know you, the mad dwarf of House Branka!” Durin bellowed in fury, clenching his fists.
“Durin, I think I owe you a flagon for the face!” Oghren growled; reaching for a nearby mug of ale and aiming for Durin’s nose, the next thing he knew, he was on his side with a heavy dagger pommel bruise on his head.
“I want no fighting here; we’re wardens first and foremost.” Argeles chided, the dwarves looked up at him
“Yeah well, we’re dwarves first, and dwarven matters come first. Right, Durin?” Oghren turned to Durin
“Right,” The dwarven warden replied, and threw a hit for Oghren’s forehead. Argeles sighed angrily.
"A taverb brawl is just a waste of our time and resources." he said flatly, with an edge of anger.
"This is going to be a waste of my time and resources but I'm going to do it anyway." Oghren walked up to him, leapt up and headbutted the other warden in the head, at this Durin rammed him into the bar.

The rest of the group turned to see the two dwarves brawling across the tavern and others joining in, while the minstrels changed their tune. The two dwarves obviously sparred before, but the way they ducked and dodged every blow was astonishing, considering they were inhibited by alcohol. Durin only managed to get Oghren in the infamous dwarven-headlock once, but his rival managed to inflict the beard-grab-of-pain, “Not the beard!” Durin yelled. In the end, both settled for the Tapster’s wrestle-rustle. Geoffrey would have stopped them under normal conditions, but he admitted to have enjoyed the scene of the two dwarves. Osecar on the other hand was getting anxious of being arrested and was permitted to discreetly use a sleep spell to knock Durin and Oghren unconscious. His timing was perfect, just as the two dwarves threw their finishing hits, they appeared to collapse form fatigue.

                                                                                     ++++++++++++

Aldanon had to request to use his carriage to transport the sleeping dwarves back to the palace, while he borrowed a guardsman’s horse and told the others he would meet them at the palace. On his way out of the Market, he spotted a strange sight; a young woman in scarlet hair and skin like sunlight, he tried to get a better look, trying to confirm his suppositions, but she had already melted into the crowd. It was the middle of the afternoon, and everyone was able to satisfy their hunger with a light lunch before getting a rest in their rooms, and here was his chance to talk to Empress Celene. He called Geoffrey to her conference hall; she had called Duke Claude d’Aubrac to voice his opinion on the matter. Aldanon stepped forth and cleared his throat.

“Empress Celene, as much as I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown me, I fear I must ask this boon from you; the darkspawn are returning, the grey wardens have sensed it. Not in a Blight, but seemingly a mindless assault, not enough to destroy your city but enough to require her defences be tested. This is what the Grey Wardens have been tasked of, but this is where you come in: the Grey Wardens request the military aid of Val Royeaux’s army and that of the surrounding provinces.” Celene stared at him severely, but she could tell this was no easier for Aldanon, much less considering that he was doing it on Charles’ behalf.

“You dare to ask this of a foreign monarch, Fereldan?!” d’Aubrac abruptly cursed, his disdain dominating the room, for he was clearly unmoved. “After all we’ve provided for you, you still want more from us!! Perhaps you should join your kind on the battlefield without the aid you seek. Let them do something honourable alone.”
“You know as well as anyone that that’s not possible,” Aldanon viciously scowled down the duke, “If you do not wish to protect your city, you can always retreat back to your duchy.” He added, tauntingly.
“Enough!” The empress raised her voice to both the men, “It’s the ruling monarch who decides the course to take.” She approached Aldanon and nodded; “I will honour the request of the Grey Wardens, Val Roeaux’s hosts will assemble to defeat the wretched darkspawn. I trust the word of the wardens and of this man’s.” Aldanon bowed his head courteously; “You have the thanks of Ferelden and the Wardens, Empress Celene, how long until the armies have mustered?” he asked, Celene thought to herself.

“They will be ready to march in roughly three days. If I may take your battle plans, Duke Claude will begin enlisting the army to get underway.” She said. Aldanon bowed his head once more and left, but not without throwing a derisive look at the ill-tempered Duke. Once outside, Geoffrey caught a chance to shake his hand.
“You’ve done us a great favour, Aldanon. Val Royeaux will soon stand ready to defeat the darkspawn. It happened much readily than I suspected.” Aldanon nodded, an ill feeling suddenly swelling up inside him.
“It’s good that it’s been resolved so quickly, but such things seldom come at a cost. When we took part in the Battle of Ostagar, we thought we would end the darkspawn horde there and then, but it all fell apart, the grey wardens and the king died in one fell swoop. I fear something is bound to go wrong.” He said morosely with a furrowed brow, and stared out from the window across the city.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 07 mars 2010 - 03:56 .

[Sisimka]

Great chapter! Things are really moving along now. Poor Oghren! Zevran is so cruel, but funny!

[Maximus741000]

Return Home

Once Leliana had gotten off the waterfront and truly assimilated into Val Royeaux’s atmosphere, she felt she was home again, like a long nightmare that turned to a dream and a nightmare again had faded away and she was back in reality. Despite having been in Ferelden, she allowed the customary Orlesian habits take hold once again. She even felt entirely Orlesian again; her hair was longer and redder, invigorated with life, she quickly picked up on the current trends and fashions like she never actually left. She even managed to go to a hairdresser’s to mimic the latest hairstyle, and later that day she competed with another bard in a musical challenge and won. She managed to get a room at one of the most renowned inns in the city; the Fleur-de-lis, which she was able to afford due to a stash of gold elsewhere in the city, near where her and Marjolaine operated. As for company, she managed to catch up on some friends from her youth in the city, she would never remember how ecstatic they were to see her again. For they were ones who never believed the lies about being the murderer the posters claimed her to be. At one point while shopping in the Market District, she caught a glimpse of Aldanon and a group of who must have been grey wardens. She wanted to go after him, but the lure of a new dress drew her away, and by the time she had a good look, he was gone.

                                                                                          ++++++++++

There was even an instance when she was able to satisfy her old thrill of the chase in roguery; a posh, portly baron came marching by as she was on an afternoon stroll. The fat lump of a man had pockets so full, alienage elves where dashing for them before the guards had them removed. She followed the man as casually as possible, waiting for him to reach his estate. As he pulled out his key, she 'accidentally' bumped into him; he was so fat the silver ropes that guarded his pockets and pouches loosened. She apologised to him as charmingly as she could, and tactfully made off with one of his coin pouches. He never knew what hit him.

The trouble was that Leliana was still regarded as a criminal in the city, declared a murderer and the thief by the high nobleman, Duke Claude d’Aubrac, now married to Empress Celene. When she lived in the city with Marjolaine, he was renowned as respected, if somewhat superior in his temperament; Marjolaine even introduced Leliana to him. That was because of her intricate weavings within the aristocracy that allowed her to be in close contact with him. Fortunately there were much fewer guards than last she was there, for the news of the day was that Empress Celene endorsed sending Orlesian military to aid the grey wardens, at the request of King Aldanon. At one point she considered making an appearance at Palais Royeaux to surprise Aldanon, but remembered Anora and was put off from that course, it would have been more awkward. If she just kept her head down and avoided the guards she could locate Marjolaine without difficulty.

                                                                                          ++++++++++

In spite of the three days she had been in the city, she had no luck in locating her quarry. After she investigated their old hiding place, she turned to some of the other remaining bard hideouts but found nothing of them or her. In the end she convened to a garden near the plaza, and sat beneath one of the elder oaks to work out a plan, and pondered whether to search further afield. One of her friends, Bianca, a fair-haired girl slightly younger than Leliana came up to her, apprehensive about her plans to find Marjolaine.
“Leliana, this hunt for Marjolaine has been all but in vain, she’s either fled the capital for fear of you or King Aldanon of Ferelden, why would she bother going after you now?” she asked, placing herself under the tree next to her, Leliana stared at the ground for a moment, thinking of her plan that was starting to look grim.
“Either Marjolaine hunts me down and kills me or I catch her while her guard is down,” Leliana said resolutely, at this Bianca sighed despairingly “then I will most likely settle in Orlais. I really missed you, Bianca, and the other girls. Aldanon’s living his own life; his duties are to Ferelden, he does not need me anymore.” She added sadly.

“You really knew Aldanon, didn’t you? The king you said he was?” her friend asked in surprise, Leliana nodded. “This might sound completely irrational, but you should go to him!” she said excitedly, Leliana looked up, stunned, “Think about it, he can help you if he can, he’s a king and you’re his friend.” Bianca encouraged, trying to raise her fading hope.
“As much as I would like to see him again, he’s just not in love with me, he loved another woman for a time and now he’s married to another, I -” she stopped and sighed sullenly, hope lost. “It just doesn’t seem right.”
“Leli, there’s something to remember about a man,” Bianca started, consolingly, “you either love a man or you don’t, and though this Aldanon was involved with another woman, you never left his side until the end.”
“Because of practicality,” Leliana lamented sadly, “And he was kind to me, even though he did not always need to be, every decision he made I approved, and I felt that I wanted to stay to help him because of the Blight.”
“But inside you know now that because the other one left, he must have been quite upset to have been abandoned by her! And from what I’ve heard, the marriage to the queen was purely political. He could probably still help you find Marjolaine if that’s what you want, but you cannot hunt her down on your own. Sometimes a king needs a queen to be more than a ruling body beside him, to give him strength when he needs it most. You’ve been alone too long.”
“Maybe I have, but I can’t just return to his life,” Leliana said sternly, “He and I clashed a few times, but I never felt compulsion to leave him because he was doing an honourable deed for Ferelden. I admired him.”
“Then go to him!” Bianca exclaimed readily, “Marjolaine destroyed your life here, once she’s gone, go to him.”

“You just don’t understand, Bianca.” Leliana cried, almost on the point of tears, “I can’t return to him, even if I did love him, he changed that when he went for Morrigan. He said that we should have remained friends. I’m not about to pursue a course of love that may or may not happen.” Her voice broke as she went, and before Bianca could start she was already running away from her, weeping. She stopped on her tracks and turned, tears streaking down her cheeks, her sky-blue eyes betrayed an emotion that was a pained, confused, and lost all at once. She realised that even if Marjolaine was slain, she would have no future afterwards, and she would either become a chantry sister again, or live in a rural community. She could have gone adventuring again, but she did not want to lose touch with the years of her life knowing Aldanon. As more tears creased down her cheeks, Bianca caught her in a warm embrace. I wish Aldanon was here, she thought, I miss him.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 08 mars 2010 - 09:38 .

[MireliA]

Poor Leliana

[Maximus741000]

I know that things have started to slow down some more, with school work and everything, but I'm still going.

Counsel with the Witch

If there was any one constant place in which Aldanon felt uncomfortable, it was always the Fade. The vast windswept plains, abysses and strangely Tevinter looking ruins made him want to get as far away from it all as possible. Before his hellish descend into the Deep Roads, the fade dominated his nightmares. But the need for counsel was imperative, and it drew him here in dreams and desperation. Being  where he was in a dream meant that he was clothed in his royal red pyjamas, which made him look very out of place; and just as vulnerable to a surprise attack. He had been waiting in the one corner of the Fade plain for almost an hour, waiting restlessly for the one from whom he could draw guidance from, but at what price? He wondered. And then she came, as if through nothingness she had appeared beside him. Aldanon leaped back in shock and surprise for fear of her being a disguised demon, but sensed that she was real and relaxed.

                                                                                 ++++++++++++

“And so you come seeking me once again, if only the mages had discovered this sooner, a great deal of time between them may have been saved.” She commented, almost half to herself. Aldanon collected himself.
“I visited the Orlesian Grey Wardens;” he began, fear evident in his voice “and from what they’ve told me, the darkspawn have returned in force. They’ve mentioned something worse now; a darkspawn that talks.”
“Ah yes, that.” She started in recollection, as if the fact of the matter had just returned to her memory. “I can tell you what I know about this type of darkspawn, for there is more than one of its kind. From what I’ve scryed about them, they’re called the Disciples, intelligent creatures that are able to lead and direct the lesser darkspawn group mind; and with one of these Disciples, the darkspawn are able to operate like a group of trained soldiers; with strategy, tactics and ambushes.” Aldanon turned about, apprehensive but deep in thought. Disaster piled on disaster.

“This is more than troubling,” he said, finally, as if a nightmare had come true, “But does this have anything to do with the Archdemon’s soul still surviving, despite its alleged destruction?” he asked, gesturing at her growing abdomen, which he knew housed the developing baby that held within the Old God’s soul. “Are you absolutely certain this has nothing to do with it? Because I do regret my part in this, if it comes to disaster don’t think I will rest on my laurels.” He hardened and became more severe; Morrigan frowned at his rising mistrust.
“I assure you, Aldanon,” Morrigan said sincerely “The darkspawn remaining has nothing to do with the Old God’s soul. The taint that was part of the conceived child and of the Archdemon was destroyed when the Old God’s soul met with the child, the ritual was designed to eradicate the taint and preserve the Old God’s spirit within the body of the conceived child.” She explained, but Aldanon was still not convinced, “You have my word.” She added, but he was still uneasy with the whole matter. “These Disciples seem to be the ones behind the darkspawn resurfacing, there’s one leading the horde that’s moving to attack Val Royeaux as we speak.”
“I’ve requested military aid from the Empress; hopefully we will learn something of this new foe.” He said hopefully, becoming more restless as his mind processed this news. “We will defeat them.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Aldanon.” Morrigan cautioned intently, “As strong as you may be, don’t forget the ones whom I warned you about before, the ones who will strike you when they have the chance.” Aldanon must have turned deathly cold because he was sweating again, he remembered and knew of whom she spoke.
“I will be careful, Morrigan,” he reassured her, “But I’ve got a host of new wardens at my command, and I will watch my back.” Though this was meant as reassurance, he could tell it wasn’t working on her.
“Even the mightiest of men fall. The darkspawn are smarter than ever before, brute force combined with intelligence is a horrifying combination.”

Aldanon sensed the dream was about to dissolve around him, he searched his mind for the right words, but he also feared that there was a price to be paid for this service.
“Thank you Morrigan, I will not forget this. But what of the cost for such valuable information the wardens could use to battle the darkspawn?” eagerness rose up in his voice again, but Morrigan jsut frowned curtly.
“You cannot tell the other grey wardens about any of this. If you told them, they will just suspect you of making deals of maleficarum and demons and deem you mad. As for the cost; the more we communicate, the more your body will temporarily weaken.” the blood from Aldanon’s face was drained as the horror consumed him.
“What do you mean weaken?!” he asked, frantically at first; fear pulsating in his chest. But his expression became hard as stone, and he crouched into a threatening position, “Did you use blood magic?” he threatened.
“I did dabble in the art, but through Flemeth’s teachings, not demonology.” She said clinically, if slightly offended by Aldanon’s implied threat. “Your strength, flexibility and health will be drained bit, but not lethally, and not for long. There’s only one way to prevent a stronger spell of it from harming you; you and I must cease this convening in the Fade. For your sake. But be assured that you will have it back by the time the darkspawn return.” Aldanon was still deathly pale, this was more than he could cope. None of what would have reassured him before was working; he was in truth, terrified. Not only were there other villains in the shadows, there were darkspawn, and on top of this he was physically weakening.

Within a short period of time, he felt energies surging around his body. The dream was weakening and he would soon return to the real world. No! Not now! He thought; there are still questions that need answering.
“And one more thing, my warden,” Morrigan said neutrally, gladly accepting the dream’s end and uneasily accepting Aldanon fading back into her memories. “Beware Aundar Jürgen. Beware the Architect.” Morrigan’s new surge of tidings tortured his insides. Weaken how exactly? He was about to go to war, he couldn’t afford to be weakened. Who were Aundar Jürgen and the Architect? What bearing did these entities have on the mission at hand? Before these qfduestions could come to surface, a jolt of pain tore at Aldanon’s stomach, and Morrigan had disappeared into the winds and the blur of the Fade ceased to exist.

                                                                                 ++++++++++++

Once again, Aldanon’s dream had dematerialised just as quickly as it had formed. The sweat on his brow seemed to have frozen across his head. As he contemplated Morrigan’s words, his strength and conviction started to wear down in a manner he had not experienced since the beginning of the Blight, when his family was murdered and the Battle of Ostagar ended in bloody disaster. Intelligent darkspawn and covert operatives – assassins – attempting to destroy him was almost too dreadful to suffer without telling someone. He wanted to tell someone, but he knew that would only prompt more questions. The darkspawn he could handle, but foes he could not see or strike chilled his blood most, as did the fear that he was somehow a tool in their greater plan. He was used to knowing his enemy; not have the dread of a greater foe be on the horizon. He tried to divert his thoughts and remembered he was lying next to a tired, sleeping Anora, and her fair, peaceful form lessened his anxieties of the dream.

He walked over to the balcony outside his room; once outside, he had a view of almost all of Val Royeaux. He also remembered his duties for the day; with Empress Celene mustering the army, his duty was to confer with Orlesian General Duke Claude d’Aubrac about the strategy of the battle. Once again, the ill feeling about the man struck him again; he was too much like Loghain, if Orlesian. He did not want to voice his suspicions in public for fear of disfavour, but wanted to keep a close eye on the duke. He was too suspicious of anything to do with Ferelden. Historically, men like Loghain often cropped up in pairs.

[Sisimka]

A good pair of chapters, things are moving along. I really like your mention (via Morrigan) of why mages do not use the fade to communicate. I was thinking that myself just the other day. We need to send them a note!!

[Maximus741000]

War Preparations

As soon as he was bathed, Aldanon took his leave to get dressed and had set about to don his ceremonial tailored coat, the same one he wore at his first dinner in the palace. It was a painstaking ritual which took a solid twenty minutes, due to his frustration at having to dress so lavishly in such ordinary circumstances such as breakfast, and for having to put up with a design that made his back feel like a wooden board. He had to keep reminding himself that he was always dining in the company of Empress Celene and the royal family, Anora, his old companions, and now with the newest contingent of grey wardens; now was not the time to be particular. Zevran’s insistence that he should be proud of his new attire did give him an advantage of comfort. But when said that Aldanon should request it to be taken back to Ferelden and serve as his court suit as a gift from Celene, the thought rendered him in want of his armour. So he looked forward to breakfast, which was something of a mixed blessing because Celene has allowed him to eat so much at the dinner banquet. But humility dictated that he should have been ashamed by such a hunger. In the end, it was his ‘savage’ grey warden appetite that gave him room enough for a hearty breakfast, and he did not seem to get any chubbier.

                                                                                  +++++++++++

After breakfast, he caught Anora within one of the Empress’s drawing rooms, meticulously preparing a series of papers, which were primarily written by her, as he could tell from the wavy, flowing writing that he recognised.
“So, what ingenious plans to heighten Ferelden have you devised now, my dear?” Aldanon asked suavely.
“A few more adventurous requests,” Anora answered, joy hinted in her voice, Aldanon’s charm had worked “I’m requesting consent to form a great Ferelden fleet, large enough to rival the Antivan Armada. Obviously most Orlesian nobles will be suspicious of this, which is why I must negotiate the matter with her, and convince them that it’s purely for defensive measures.” Aldanon nodded as she outlined the papers; he also knew that informing Orlais about this would prevent naval wars in the future and allow Ferelden to grow stronger. “I also wonder if Ferelden can be allowed to form its own branch of the Chantry; akin to the andrastian one based here in Orlais, but individual in its own right.” Aldanon’s dwindling attention suddenly shot up, what did she just say?

“You want to form a Chantry of your own within Ferelden bounds that lives by its own rules? Why?” he asked nervously, he knew that this was one of Anora’s more favoured plans, but he didn’t think she was about it.
“Why not?” Anora asked him, “Tevinter have their version, and our version of it will omit all the immoral things about the current one, a Chantry of Ferelden, if you will. It’s time Ferelden earned a proper place in Thedas.” “Then I hope fortune is with you, Maker knows you’ll need it to get those requests.” Aldanon said calmly, smiling venerably, the sound of the retinue arriving alerted him. “I’ll be leaving the Palace to join my comrades and the Orlesian army at the front, I won’t return until the darkspawn attackers are defeated. I wish you success in the treaties.” Anora got up onto her feet earnestly, curiously wanting to savour this moment with Aldanon.
“May the Maker watch over you, Aldanon. I’m almost certain you will emerge to be hero in Orlais as well as Ferelden. I love you, and farewell, darling.” She drew Aldanon’s head in to kiss, one that lingered for but a moment, and hung on for what seemed for much longer. Once she relinquished him, his armoured figure strode dutifully out of the room, down the gilded palace corridor and out into the courtyard. Yet still her sorrowful eyes followed him, she did not want to surrender the moment. Aldanon mounted his steed and the herald sounded his horn, the knights turned about and galloped out into Val Royeaux, and into battle.

                                                                                  +++++++++++

Out in the city, it was clear that his words with the Empress did not go unanswered, the soldiers and town guards were assembling and on the march, mounted chevaliers galloped through the streets and more could be seen at their fortresses, even the formidable templars were on the march, their glistening steel lined out in columns. He soon noticed that it was their camp, one of several that started cropping up around the western part of the city, where the darkspawn attack as predicted. A herd of them were even guarding a group of meditating mages, who were trying to scry the darkspawn’s location, just like what he saw at King Cailan’s camp at Ostagar. The Divine of the Chantry was even out and about, once Aldanon caught a clear sight of her elderly, it gave him an idea. He ordered his retinue to halt and remain where they were; he dismounted and moved casually towards the elderly priest. He had caught her in the nick of time; she had just finished her prayer. Once she noticed him, she stood up straight and studied him for a moment, but did not seem impressed despite his appearance and reputation.

“Greetings, Your Reverence.”Aldanon greeted her; she continued to study him, regarding him with indifference.
“So, you are the fabled Aldanon Cousland.” She greeted curtly, “Here, we’ve heard of your exploits, not all of them abide by chantry law.” She added sharply. Aldanon frowned at her haughty impertinence; he knew that this sort of arrogance and domineering nature was among the chantry priests, but he didn’t have time for it.
“The truth is that I did what I had to as a Grey Warden, but I never broke any chantry rules, just bent them. At any rate that’s not why I’m here.” He gestured to the further part of the templar camp, and she followed, listening, though she had little time for him, she was not about to refuse a royal appeal. “I’d like to request permission to overlook one of the rules concerning mages and their place in the nations. The boy, Connor Guerrin, son of Arl Eamon Guerrin of the arling of Redcliffe in Ferelden, is gifted with magical abilities that he inherited from his mother; your rules stipulate that no mage may earn or inherit a position of power within political circles. But what I ask is that his rights as a noble’s son are granted back to him.” She stared at him in shock and disgust, as if he had just asked her to dance naked on the city walls for the morale of the men.

“Absolutely not.” She snapped flatly “I will not bend the rules of the Chantry for anyone, even less at the behest of a foreign king, or king-consort as my resources say.” Aldanon sighed in exasperation, putting his hand over his forehead. “The last time mages rules over the land, they brought the darkspawn into our world, it’s not done.”
“I wouldn’t ask such a thing lightly,” Aldanon said in a tempered voice, “I ask this because a noble family is still distraught over the affair. By all means, he should continue to study magic and master it. But you won’t be putting any lives in danger by consenting to this” the Chantry Divine stopped in thought, mulling over his persuasive argument, she did not want to damage the Chantry’s reputation by refusing an official royal request.
“Very well, his noble rights shall be renewed. But on the condition that if he shows so much as the slightest sign of dark magic and brings harm to his future subjects, he will be forever be condemned within the tower and if necessary be made tranquil.” Aldanon shivered at the mention of the notion, but the thought did not dominate him. He had achieved his goal. The Divine signed the official Order of Mage’s Rights Extension for Connor Guerrin and passed it to Aldanon. It was Connor’s birthday in five months, and Aldanon had a fitting present.

                                                                                  +++++++++++

Aldanon’s retinue went on its way to join them at the main army camp. He had not seen such bustle since the prelude to the Battle of Ostagar. Celene had called for an evacuation of the district; she had also forbidden her chevaliers from violating people’s homes and possessions. Tents were set up in the streets to accommodate the inflow of soldiers. Formations of soldiers were on patrol; most of them were either resting, eating at the cram-packed inns and taverns, or practicing with their comrades. On the main avenue leading out of the city, battalions of chevaliers were on the march. One company was already underway out of the city, and in a moment of enthusiasm, Aldanon ordered the knights to halt and followed the chevaliers out of the city. From the entrance porch overlooking the road that wove into the valley, they were a magnificent sight, as many as up to four legions, numbering a thousand per division, could be seen, all lined up in a formidable moving wall of silvery steel. Their horses whinnied as the head of each battalion sounded the call to march north. Aldanon turned back to the camp. At the centre of the bustle was Duke Claude d’Aubrac, Marquis Jacques, Commander Charles and Geoffrey were also there, all crowded around a wooden table upon which a map of the city and the surrounding lands was laid. He allowed his horse to be taken to the stables, and walked towards the council taking place.

“I truly don’t know why you would play a part in such a blind act, grey warden,” Claude’s hoarse voice brushed out angrily against Charles, “The more chevaliers outside of the city walls to flank the darkspawn the better.”
“Surely even you know that we cannot afford to have all of the chevaliers outside of the city walls.” Charles spoke back to him with a patience that showed signs of thinning, “While I am certain that the strategy may work, I’m not content to have such a large number of our best forces outside of the walls they should be defending.”
“I remind you that this was your Order’s strategy, if you intend to disagree with a general’s advice, then you can fight this battle by yourself.” Charles stared at him in repulsion, though he had known many callous men in his time, few were as cold as Claude d’Aubrac. Aldanon, who had been hearing the strategy, entered the scene.
“Aldanon, thank the Maker, Duke Claude was beginning to get into an irate state,” Jacques stated boldly, knowing that Claude stood frowning behind him, “Perhaps you have something to say to settle this mess?”
“I think that as a proper general, you should be following his advice,” he joined in, smiling despite the intensity, “a veteran of darkspawn would know his enemy, and would offer advice to his allies. But when it’s spurned...” he closed in on the Duke, whose rage was quietly amounting at the king-consort’s impertinence.
“Aldanon, here you are. The duke and I were...” Charles’ attention turned to d’Aubrac distastefully, “discussing the strategy for the upcoming battle. We were having a few ... disagreements” he added sharply.

“In any event, I need to know the status of the strategy, what is it?” he asked Charles, ignoring d’Aubrac.
“We estimate four thousand cavalry marshalling outside the city, three thousand infantrymen manning the walls, and three companies of wardens, each numbering sixty, to support the infantry. We also sent word to Montfort; they will be sending us a division of five hundred foot soldiers.” Aldanon nodded as he studied the map which detailed the positioning of each battalion, but curiosity sprung to him once again.
“A hundred and eighty wardens?” he asked concernedly, “I thought there were just over two hundred of us.”
“We had scouts watching the darkpawn horde,” Charles said knowingly, “and we had individual wardens stationed in other parts of the Orlesian Empire, to alert us at any sign of danger of darkspawn. They will be unable to reach us, but fear not; there will be the two hundred of us we promised to the Empress.” Just as he finished, Aldanon caught a large group coming around from the corner of his eye. Wynne, Zevran, Oghren, Max the dog, Osecar, Durin, Argeles and Elanea joined the outskirts of the discussion. The warriors were all armed and armoured, Oghren and Durin had been practicing very intensely against each other, and eager to see darkpsawn slain; the mages looked slightly drained for they had been practicing their spell craft; the rogues also showed signs of exercise, judging by the smell of pine trees, it seemed they were scouting.

“We’ve taken time to prepare for the scouting mission, Charles,” Osecar reported dutifully “I would also ask if we take Aldanon’s companions out onto the field, I know they will help us, if by his consent and theirs.”
“Of course we can, we could certainly do with the exercise.” Wynne spoke on their behalf, but Zevran disagreed.
“Oh sure, send us into battle, we’ve only just arrived and it’s not like we have a desire to relax!” he nagged
“I wouldn’t mind a change from all this display and formality, just to stop the monotony.” Oghren grumbled.
“I don’t object.” Aldanon said shortly, eager to get on with his analysing of the strategy. “I’m still anxious to know of the latest news of the darkspawn advance. Your Grace?” he offered a chance.
“As I understand, your plan was to harry them as they approach the city with the chevaliers, and that’s why we must have as many of them on the flanking front as possible.” He lectured in his reserved, withdrawn way, indicating on the map the positions of what would soon be the point from which the chevaliers would charge.
“That was the strategy, but the hope is that once the Montfort soldiers arrive, they can reinforce that point and we can have more chevaliers within the bounds of the city. If you have any naval craft, I would also suggest deploying them to prevent the darkspawn from escaping back into the west or try to swim to safety.”
"Well, I must say that the strategy may be demanding, but it will prove efficient." d'Aubrac nodded, "But why the lack of horsemen out on the field where they should be? This tactic is supposed to be the most effective."
"It is, but it's all to familiar to me" Aldanon said with a hint of ill memory, "I would rather not jeapordize the defenders here."

Before he could go further, an elven servant stumbled by, leaving a metal tray with silver goblets of wine for the Duke. Aldanon thought he looked a bit tired, and allowed him to take his seat. Too late he realised it to be a bad move, the duke had seen it. Suddenly he towered over the hapless elf, his voice like a dragon's roar.
“How dare you sit in the presence of your betters, servant!!” he roared “Get up!!” he elf shot up in terror.
“I’m sorry Your Grace, it was just a -” he was cut short by a slap to the head from d’Aubrac’s mailed hand.
“You’ll speak when spoken to!! Unless you’d rather be marched out to meet the enemy, WELL!!?? ” a single, direct strike to his chin sent the elf sprawled on the floor. Elenea readied her bow, but Aldanon intervened.
“Sir, I fear you’ve been a too long a soldier, we no longer treat elves servants that way, in Denerim society,” d’Aubrac’s furious eyes widened, he was not used to this Ferelden instigating orders on his ground.
“I hardly touched the thing.” He shouted pitilessly, Elanea’s arrow was aimed directly for his head.
“I think you hit him very hard. In Ferelden we see elves as true citizens after their valiant aid in the defence of Denerim, and perhaps this is something Orlesian aristocracy should consider, since Ferelden has taken a first step.” The duke huffed and stormed off, unable and unwilling to suffer Ferelden insolence. The rest of the remaining party stared at him, in both amazement and approval. Wynne took the injured elf away to receive healing.

“That was a brave act you did for the servant, Aldanon.” Jacques said, impressed, staring at the huffing duke.
Aldanon only smiled and murmured; “It was nothing”. Aldanon’s eyes met Elanea’s, they showed signs of decreasing hostility, thanks to his standing up for the elf. He silently acknowledged that this was the first step to an easier partnership. A soldier appeared from across the camp, his cheeks flushed with exhaustion from running to bring his message.
"Where's the Duke? I was sent to bring more of his orders to the captain on the field." Aldanon gestured to Charles to resume the duke’s seat and said cunningly to the messenger; "The Duke is indisposed."

Modifié par Maximus741000, 03 mai 2010 - 05:33 .

[Sisimka]

I really have to admire how you're not afraid to delve into politics in your story, it's something I really only touched upon because I was convinced I'd get it all wrong.

Great chapter!

Modifié par Sisimka, 14 mars 2010 - 01:02 .

[MireliA]

The Duke showing his true colours although he certainly isn't the only one with an anti-elven issue within Orlais. And I agree with Sisimka, writing about politics is not easy to do.