by Milton Garby
After days of traveling they at last reached the ruins of Ostagar. At the front entrance there was an entourage of men who seemed to be waiting for them; it was King Cailan himself and his honor-guard. This clearly caught Duncan off guard.
"Ho, there, Duncan!" The young king greeted shaking Duncan's hand.
Duncan was mpst confounded. "King Cailan? I wasn't expecting…."
"A royal welcome? I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun!"
"Not if I can help it, your majesty." Duncan chuckled.
"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side after! Glorious! The other Wardens told you've a promising recruit. This is he I take it?"
"Yes. Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty."
"No, need, Duncan. You are Bryce's youngest, are you not? I don't think we've ever actually met. Your brother has already arrived with Highever's men, but we're still waiting for your father."
Aedan's nostrils flared in anger, "Are you even aware that my father is dead!?"
"D-dead!? What do you mean!? Duncan, what do you know anything about this?"
"Teryn Cousland and his wife are dead, Your Majesty. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Castle Highever. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished."
"I…can scarcely believe it! How can he think he would get away with such treachery! As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice! You have my word."
"What kind of justice?" Aedan demanded.
"He will hang! I will not allow this…"
"Not enough! He butchered my parents! Fergus' wife and son! Hanging is far too good for him!"
"I promise I will dispense the justice he deserves." Cailan promised.
"I will hold you to that." Aedan also promised.
"No doubt you wish to see your brother. Unfortunately he's out scouting the Wilds and will not return until after the battle."
"But he may be in danger!"
"The battle is soon upon us, we are all in danger." The king explained, "I apologize, but there is nothing more I can do. All I can suggest is you take your grief out on the darkspawn for the time being."
"The fuck do you know about my grief!?" Aedan demanded.
That outburst caught King Cailan off guard. Clearly he was not used to being yelled at. "Your Majesty, I apologize." Duncan interjected.
"There is no need." The King assured. "We're all on edge at the moment. Especially Loghain, who's eagerly awaiting to bore me with his strategies."
"You uncle sends his greetings," Duncan stated trying to change the subject, "And reminds you that his forces can be here within a week."
"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory! We've won three battles against these monster already and tomorrow will be no different."
"I didn't realize the things were going so well." Aedan commented wryly.
"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, there has been no sign of the Archdemon."
"Disappointed, Your Majesty?" Duncan asked seriously.
"I'd hoped for a war like the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do." Cailan stated with great enthusiasm. "I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!"
The king turned and left back into the camp with his honor-guard leaving Duncan and Aedan alone outside the gates. "What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here." Duncan stated.
Aedan snorted, "The king didn't seem to take the darkspawn seriously."
"True." Duncan agreed. "Despite the victories, so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling alone."
"Then what would you have him do?"
"Wait for reinforcement. I've sent word to the Grey Wardens of Orlais but their arrival has been slow, so we must rely on what Wardens we have stationed here and look to Teryn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we must proceed with the Joining Ritual without delay."
"What do you mean? What ritual?" Aedan was unaware of any Grey Warden ritual.
"Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call 'The Joining' in order to become a Grey Warden." Duncan explained. "The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon."
"Why is this ritual so secret?"
"The Joining is dangerous. I cannot speak more of it except you will learn all in time. Until then, you must trust that what is done is necessary."
"I need to find Fergus!" Aedan insisted.
"You heard the king. He will not return until after the battle. I know you want to see him again but we all have our duties to perform and this battle is critical."
Aedan grunted in frustration, "Am I the only recruit you have?"
"No, there are two others, Daveth and Ser Jory. They will be going through the Joining with you."
"Then let's get this over with quickly."
"Yes. We should proceed with the ritual."
"What do you need me to do?"
"Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do no leave for the time it being. There is another Grey Warden here by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell to summon the other recruits. Your hound can stay with me while I attend to some business." Dane barked happily as he pranced around.
The two departed and Aedan decided to walk around the camp to try and get his mind of the anxiety building in him. He found his way to a group of young soldiers training with two-handed weapons; they were most likely frontline infantry. One of them, a young private around Aedan's age, was swinging his greatsword around like a madman, he had some skill but he lacked discipline. He was sparring with another private in a makeshift training circle. He swung his sword with power, but he didn't follow through with enough balance and his footwork was crappy, fortunately for him, his sparring partner was worse. He heaved his greatsword and with one powerful swing he knocked his opponent off his feet. Adan was not impressed. The guy looked a little younger than Aedan, he had short black hair, blue eyes and a strong jar. His build was muscular and had strong arms and broad shoulders to compliment his physique, but he seemed to rely more on his natural strength rather than any discipline or skill.
The swordsman noticed the disapproving look on Aedan's face and was clearly offended, "What're you looking at?" he demanded indignantly.
"Not much." Aedan scoffed.
"Oh, really. Then pray tell us. What did I do wrong? In case you didn't notice I was the winner."
"Winning by luck and winning with skill are two completely different concepts. You swing your sword without any balance or finesse! If your opponent had dodged that swing it would have thrown you off balance and left you wide open for a counter-attack. If you're supposed to be our countries first line of defense, than we're doomed."
The swordsman walked up to Aedan puffing his chest out like some kind of ape, "You think you could do better? Maybe you want to come in here and do your worst?"
Aedan entered the training circle, he never could turn down a challenge. "You can't handle my worst."
The swordsman scoffed arrogantly, "Don't worry I'll try to make the fight last a while."
Aedan glared at dangerously. "I don't fight; I kill." Aedan assumed his stance with every intention of following through with his statement. The army certainly wouldn't miss one incompetent soldier.
"Carver! That's enough!" Ordered a powerful, authoritative voice.
Aedan looked to the south of the ring, a sergeant approaching them both with. He had a greatsword strapped to his back, but unlike the moron in the ring, he carried himself with authority and respect. Aedan took note how this Carver shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes from the man. Perhaps he was his commander?
"Carver, if you want to die, die aga
inst the darkspawn!" The sergeant yelled. "That is a better excuse for your death, than me having to tell our mother you were killed by a Grey Warden because he bruised your ego!"
Ah, so they're brothers. This one was obviously the elder. Yes,he could see it now. The elder brother was slightly taller and older than Aedan, he looked to be at least Twenty-Four years old and everything this Carver looked his brother wasn't. This brother looked like a taller, more muscular version of Carver with a close shaven, triangular cut beard going about his jaw, not to mention this sergeant carried himself with a certain confidence but had a look of humility in his blue eyes. Interestingly enough, he had a streak of blood going across his face similar to how the Avvar would before going into battle.
Carver walked away trying not to embarrass himself or his brother any further. The sergeant walked up to Aedan and looked at him with respect. "I apologize for my brother. He grew up his whole life wanting to get off our family's farm and now he's looking for any excuse he can to make a name for himself."
"That's a short hop to a deep grave." Aedan stated. "You're his brother? Not much of a resemblance."
"I suppose you're referring to our attitudes and not our physical resemblance."
"I apologize for embarrassing your brother." Aedan said politley.
The sergeant waved it off. "Don't be. He's always had a chip on his shoulder; it's good to see him get served some humility."
"What is your name, sergeant?"
"My name is Hawke." He replied extending his hand.
Aedan shook his hand in return, "I am Aedan of Highever. It was pleasure meeting you, Ser Hawke. Perhaps we'll meet again someday."
"Perhaps. But I have a feeling that this battle will determine both of our fates." Hawke replied.
Aedan left Ser Hawke to his business and continued to explore the camp. In his wandering he meet Daveth and Ser Jory. Daveth appeared amiable enough, for a cutpurse. He seemed content with the hand he had been dealt for being a thief in Denerim: die in a prison cell or die against the darkspawn. After spending his life moving from one place to another and having to steal coin purses just to feed himself, it seemed he finally found a place for himself in the ranks of the Grey Wardens. Aedan felt like he could trust Daveth to watch his back and he wouldn't run away, and he didn't seem to care about what or why the Joining Ritual was so secret.
Ser Jory, however, was another matter. While he was a trained knight, he was extremely affable and easily disturbed. Aedan knew the type, he met many like him growing up in Highever. Bright-eyed young men who thought that becoming a knight was something glorious and nothing but greatness would follow, but seldom few are prepared for the harsh reality of what it really means to carry a sword on the battlefield. Ser Jory was no different. He seemed more enraptured about the status of being a Grey Warden than the duties of being a Grey Warden. And now that the Wardens threw some secret ritual in his face, something he was completely unprepared for and know he seemed ready to wet himself and leave after he so willingly volunteered.
Aedan had just left Ser Jory to continue wandering and suddenly there was this ginger haired Chantry mother standing in front of him. "Hail, I overheard you speaking to Ser Jory and I heard you say you're another Grey Warden recruit."
"It's considered impolite to eavesdrop, miss." Aedan stated with an annoyed tone.
"By chance I'm administering the Maker's blessing to the Grey Wardens, would you allow me to give you his blessing?"
Aedan gave the woman a neutral look, trying to hide his distaste. "I'd really rather you didn't."
The revered mother shot a glare at him as if he just insulted her mother. "Then begone, heathen! That the Grey Wardens accept the likes of you will always be their greatest weakness."
That was a mistake. He would not suffer insult from some pretentious little bitch, who let the Grand Cleric tell her which way to take shit! "Tell me, woman: Do you think the Maker favors you? That he'll protect you from any threat?"
The revered mother glared at him, full of self-righteousness. "There's not a doubt in my m-ghak!" Before she could finish her self-righteous speech Aedan's powerful right fist smashed right across her jaw shattering it! She spun around and fell to the ground out cold.
"Hmph! It seems your god favors me more than you." Aedan said smugly.
"How dare you assault a mother of the faith!?" One soldier cried with his friends approaching.
"Any of you want to find out just how much the Maker loves you!?" Aedan challenged with his weapons drawn. They all backed away. "I didn't think so."
As Aedan walked away several other Chantry members came to their sister's aid and got her to a healer. He noticed a circle of oddly garbed men and women standing in a circle and waving their arms in some sort of trance. In the middle of their circle was a glittering ball of energy that gave of a strange humming sound. Obviously these were mages. "Stand back, please. The mages are in the Fade and it is unwise for them to be disturbed right now." A Templar guarding the mages ordered. Aedan quietly complied.
"Greetings, young man." Aedan looked behind him to see an elderly, but matronly looking woman leaning against a tree. She had silver hair, indicating that it was blonde in her youth, tied into a sophisticated bun. Her face was small, slender, and smooth, with no major signs of wrinkles like most women her age. And despite her age, her form was quite lovely; long, shapely and slender. She was obviously incredibly beautiful in her younger years, some of that beauty still remained with her. "You are Duncan's new apprentice, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king." Her voice was soft, and laced with care and wisdom. She reminded him of his mother.
Aedan bowed his head respectfully. "I am Aedan of Highever, a pleasure."
"Well met. And good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact."
"It's not luck, but skill, both of body and mind that will save us."
"And I'm sure you have plenty of both to offer. To defeat the darkspawn horde, we must work together. It's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp."
"You've fought against the darkspawn, then, I take it?"
"Stragglers, yes—not the vast horde the scouts speak of. Mages have always been called upon to defeat the Blight. I wonder, how much do you know about the connection between the Fade and the darkspawn?"
"I know that the darkspawn supposedly originated their when the Tevinter Magisters invaded the Black City."
"Very astute of you." Wynne complimented. "Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when the mages of the Tevinter Imperium invaded the City, they tainted it with their sin. The taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts. Then the Maker cast them back to the earth, where they became the first darkspawn."
Great plan, dumbass. Aedan snorted scornfully at the mere mention of the Chantry. "The Chantry says many things, most of which I believe to be nothing but lies and half-truths."
"It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human suffering. Or it may be true. It's as good an explanation as any, for now."
"Heh. I think I'll just stick with the common approach on how to deal with darkspawn, and kill every single one I see."
"A wise attitude. It has served me well in the past. But I'm certain Duncan has more for you to do than to talk to me."
"Indeed." Aedan nodded his head to her respectfully and continued wandering the camp.
Aedan met with the Ash Warriors, a great honor for any Fereldan. The Ash Warriors were one of the greatest mercenary companies in Thedas and the most legendary one to come out of Fereldan. But unlike other mercenary bands who fought for money, the Ash Warriors fought for a righteous cause and ever since the days of King Calenhad, they had always been king's men. Aedan always admired the Ash Warriors, Ser Argyle himself was once an Ash Warrior. Most Ash Warriors were devout adherents to the faith of the Maker, but Aedan admired th
e fact that they predated the Chantry and didn't follow the Chant of Light; their beliefs had no political manipulation influencing them. He exchanged training tactics with their leader, and spoke of the berserker skills he learned from the Avvar. In exchange for the knowledge Aedan gave him the Ash Warrior's commander gave him the design for the Kaddis of The Mountain Father, a design favored by the Avvar tribesman to invoke the strength of their god.
While looking for this Alistair, Aedan found his way to the king's side of the camp. Perhaps he could get more details on what Fergus was up to. He approached the king's tent and was greeted by his rather friendly guard. "Greetings! King Cailan is not in his tent right now, I'm afraid."
That's disappointing. "Then where is he?"
"Probably out in the camp with the other Wardens, drinking no doubt." The guard answered.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. We are on the cusp of the largest battle against the apex of evil, and the king is drinking!?
"The king wants to end the Blight with a single huge battle, one that the bards will sing for centuries. Do you think that's possible?"
"I have serious doubts about that." Aedan responded dismally.
"Heh. That's how the Teryn feels as well. He'll do what the king says in the end, though. The king thought it was funny that the teryn called him reckless, can you imagine?"
Aedan could defintely imagine.
"And they fought about the queen."
Trouble in paradise? This is some guard, spilling his guts about the king's personal life to a stranger. He should be thankful that Aedan was not an Antivan Crow. "Why were they fighting about the queen?"
"Well, she's the teryn's daughter. He wasn't happy about something she did or the king did…I'm not sure. I probably shouldn't discuss it."
"Well, don't let me distract you. Farewell."
Aedan turned away from the king's tent and to say he was disappointed would be a vast understatement. What kind of an idiot makes a relaxed blabbermouth like that his honor-guard! As he marched away he noticed the tent opposite of the king's. Its guard looked more alert and it was waving a banner that bore triple dragons, the heraldry of Loghain Mac Tir. This was too much of an honor to pass up. Aedan had to meet him.
