“That was my first encounter with the race of creatures known as the Darkspawn. The Chantry states they rose as a result of the “Second Sin”, although whether or not this lends more towards myth or truth remains uncertain. All I know is that they are the cause of great ill and destruction on this world, their influence shifting between a mere nuisance to a catastrophe.

I remain puzzled as to what happened in that final chamber where I found the artifact. At first, I thought it was a mere illusion spell designed to trap intruders. However, I can still recall everything that I saw, most notably that black citadel floating in the horizon. Whether it was indeed some illusion, or a side-effect of the substance known as lyrium, or simple battle-fatigue, remains indeterminate.”

* From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

    The river of people split, giving me a wide berth, as they drifted down the steps leading up to the Chantry. There was a reason, but smell wasn’t why. I took a long wash in one of the rivers, immediately after concluding my business with Taoran’s employers. The scent from the foray into the Deep Roads still lingered, so I had taken a second wash in the tavern the night before and again during this morning, with some fat-cream mixture the locals considered soap.

    The real reason was trifold. First, was my newly acquired breastplate, which had clearly identified me as not just a mercenary, but a Blackstone Irregular, who were rather well-regarded in this city as trained fighters.

    Second, was the disheveled mass of hair that had grown out from my chin, below my nose, and past my ears, which had me looking a tad bit unhinged. The tight expression across my mouth, and the beads of sweat clinging to the hairs from the exertion of hauling a chest of silver coins did not help either.

    And third was the sword on my belt. I caught one too many people staring at the jingling coins the moment I left, drawn to it like rats to some piper’s tune. The Lorekeeper had been warning me of threats every so odd moment since I began walking here. As far as I knew, the blade was the only thing keeping them at bay.

    The surge of departing people lowered to a trickle as the last of the congregation finally emptied out of the building. I could have arrived earlier, but I was in no hurry to be part of a captive audience to another sermon. Today was to be business, first and foremost.

    I skulked up the stairs toward the open doorway. An old man with white hair led by two women in plainclothes, were approaching my direction. They took one look at me, the fear plain on their faces, and hurried away sideways.

    I shrugged and crossed from the stone steps and to the red carpet of the Chantry. It was empty here, a few sisters and brothers milling about. No templars in sight, thank the Light for that.

    My eyes zeroed in on Sister Rivera, who was sitting by the same table leading up the stairs the last time I saw her. I jaunted over to her, coins clacking in the chest along the way.

    The noise drew her attention, and she moved her eyes up to me from the parchment that she was writing on.

    “Hello Sister Rivera, I’ve come to-“

    “Oh hello!” she said then her expression shifted to puzzlement to horror as she pointed at my side. Not the one with the chest but the one with the sword.

    The realization hit me at the same moment. Weapons weren’t allowed here. I also realized at that moment this fact had drawn every single eye in the Chantry towards me.

    “Is that a sword?” Sister Rivera said. “Ser! You must-“

    “Good Heavens what is this!”

    The stern voice boomed through the halls, one used to enforcing discipline on wayward children. If there were people in the building who wasn’t aware of the commotion, then they certain were now.

    The speaker of the voice was storming in our direction. A woman with red hair wearing a red and white garb embroidered with golden limes that set her apart as one of the Chantry Mothers. The wrinkles on her face had fixed themselves into a nasty scowl of which I was the sole recipient.

    Sister Rivera, stepped away, dipped her head, and averted her gaze as if the approaching figure’s attention could shift to her at any moment.

    The Mother crossed the distance between us in an instant. She stood in front of me, looking up with her hands on her hips.

    “I am Mother Perpetua, and head of this Chantry. Weapons are not permitted on these grounds my good ser. I must ask you to leave.”

    “Bu-.”

    “What is going on here?” someone said.

    I turned my head toward the voice, and saw a trio of templars rush toward us from one of the stairways. The sinking feeling in my gut grew deeper as I recognized Knight-Captain Nelson at their lead.

    “You again?” he said, eyeing my up and down with a sneer.

    “Knight-Captain Nelson,” said Mother Perpetua. “Thank heavens you are here. This man had brought a weapon into this place of worship. Please escort him off the Chantry premises.”

    “Hold on I can exp-.”

    “With pleasure Mother,” he bowed, his gaze darkening to a glare as it shifted back to me. “Men, take this vagrant outside.”

    I could feel my blood pressure rising. I was irritated enough as it was from hauling around a chest of coins in the hot sun. I was about to mouth off when another person interrupted.

    “Is there something going on?”

    Everyone froze at the newcomer’s voice. Whoever just arrived, had more authority than anyone else here, judging by how the templars stood to attention and even Mother Perpetura went silent. It was also familiar, there was accent to it similar to Madame Lebois, but I knew I heard it before.

    “Ah,” said Mother Perpetua, looking past me to the new arrival. Her voice was respectful but with a hint of condescension and mockery. “Mother Dorothea, we are just handling some internal affairs.”

    “I can see that,” the newcomer said. I turned my head to see her stepping towards us. Mother Dorothea was the same as I remembered when I gave up the basket to the street urchins. Gray-haired, calm, collected, and with a permanent smile etched on her face.

    “Why if it isn’t you, young man,” she said.

    I didn’t know what to say so I just dipped my head in a bow.

    “Templars,” Mother Perpetua said. “Escort this ruffian out immediately.”

    The two men moved again, then stopped when Mother Dorothea moved between us.

    “Now. Now,” she said. “Let us not act rashly, especially upon these hallowed grounds. Is there some cause for which this man is being driven out of these halls?”

    “This ruffian has brought a weapon upon these grounds! Can you not see that?” said Mother Perpetua.

    “Why yes I can.” Mother Dorothea then looked at the two armored men in front of her.

    “As are the templars.”

    She turned toward the statue that towered over the Chantry floor.

    “And as is the statue of blessed Andraste. Weapons appear not be an issue.”

    Mother Perpetua’s brow twitched then narrowed into a glare. “Mother Dorothea, I understand that you come from Orlais, but in Ferelden, there are a different set of customs that we must abide by.”

    “How perplexing,” said Mother Dorothea. “I was under the impression that we all shared the same universal code espoused by Andraste. I did not know that Denerim strayed so far from the path. Grand Cleric Elemena would have much to explain to the Divine.”

    Mother Perpetua’s glare vanished, replaced by shock. She proceeded to open her mouth as if to say something, then closed without uttering a word. Her lips tight in restraint.

    “And as to the… object of this issue,” Mother Dorothea said, turning towards me. “I believe you have some reason as to why you are here? Perhaps related to that chest you hold?”

    “Uh…yes,” I said, laying the chest on the floor. “I’m here to make a donation to the Chantry.”

    I opened the chest, revealing the glimmering coins. Mother Perpetua, Sister Rivera, and Knight-Captain Rodrick’s eyes gaped at the sum.

    “Why that looks to be quite the princely sum,” Mother Dorothea said.

    “Yes,” I replied. “500 silvers. I am merely wishing to earn the honor of becoming a distinguished guest, and have the opportunity to look through the Chantry archives.”

    “Is that so?” said Mother Dorothea, raising an eyebrow at Mother Perpetua. “I wasn’t aware that visitors needed to make such a donation to access the Chantry archives. Quite interesting, given the Divine ordained that all seeking knowledge shall be given it freely.”

    Mother Perpetua said nothing, but her eyes were averted to the ground.

    “It-Its nothing,” I said. “Regardless, I’d like to keep the donation. For the benefit of the Chantry.”

    That was a lie. 500 silvers would have sent me a long way, but not if I earned the ire of the people running this place. Best to appease them. It wasn’t like I was hurting for more coin anyhow.

    “Interesting,” Mother Dorothea said. “Mother Perpetua, would you accept this traveler’s magnanimous offering?”

    “Uh-Yes!” she replied. “Of course! Ser Rodrick, would you be so kind to take the offering of this ruff-distinguished guest?”

    “Oh, uh-certainly Mother,” Knight-Captain Rodrick said, bowing his head then turning towards his men. “Carry on men.”

    The two figures looked at each other, and stepped forward. I took a step back as they closed the chest and carried it off.

    “And Sister Rivera,” said Mother Perpetua. The young woman jolted, peeking her eyes at Mother Perpetua like a mouse caught between two cats.

    “Please handle the administrative affairs for this contribution.”

    “Y-Yes Mother!”

    “Good,” she said. “I believe our affairs are concluded. Mother Dorothea, I believe it is time to run the charity.”

    “Why yes,” Mother Dorothea said, and turned towards me. “May the Maker bless you on your pursuit traveler.”

    She bowed once, and the two of them stepped away.

    Sister Rivera walked up to me once they were out of earshot, taking a deep breath.

    “Please come with me uh- Ser Eratus. I’ll get your papers ready.”

    “Of course.”

----------------------------------------

    “And so Andraste, Daughter of Brona, was birthed amidst a straw hovel overlooking the oceanside and in the shadow of the ancient tower of the magisters…”

    I stopped after reading that verse, and scribbled it down on my journal.

    The book continued on from there describing her childhood then onto postulations about her familial relationships. That was about where any relation to her home faded, so I closed the green leather-bound cover then stacked it on the pile of books and journals on the left side of the table.

    When I was finished, I realized there were no more books to go through on my left. Those were all the ones that I could find on Andraste’s beginnings within the shelves.

    I took the time to rub my eyes, a bad habit from years of reading in poor light, leaned back against the table, then stretch my arms up wide. When I was done, I peered back at the page on my journal, filled with line after line of passages from the books. Lines about who her parents were, their tribe, where the tribes were situated.

    It turned out that Andraste was born when the city of Denerim was nothing but a series of huts and shacks situated around Fort Drakon, the massive citadel whose spiked and smooth architecture set it apart from any of the other structures in the city. Although it gave me a point of reference to look for her home, it also meant that the original hut was unlikely to exist. By my estimate, it was nearly a thousand years since the fabled events of her tale. A lot could change in that time period. As far as I knew, few to none of the old tribal dwellings that formed the basis of humankind on Azeroth stood. Either they were replaced over time such as in Lordearon and Stromgarde, or destroyed by war such as Alterac.

    Flemeth’s words did seem to hint however that it still existed. I didn’t have a better idea so I figured I might as well try. My first intuition was to look for the actual location and see if anything remained.

    The problem being that Denerim was a large city. I hadn’t ventured outside of the usual paths, mainly because of my disastrous initial attempts at navigating the city. The last thing I wanted to do was wander around blind, looking for landmarks that “might” still exist.

    I stepped up to exercise the flow of blood through my limbs, and decided to distract myself by peering over the balcony.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    There wasn’t much going on now that the congregation had concluded. However, on the balcony opposite mine, there were several sisters, wearing trim and plain red white gowns with the Chantry’s emblem following the chorus of Mother Perpetua. They were reciting a chant, a canticle.

    “All men are the Work of our Maker’s Hands”

    “All men are the Work of our Maker’s Hands”

    “From the lowest slaves”

    “From the lowest slaves”

    “To those highest Kings”

    “To those highest Kings”

    “Those who bring harm”

    “Those who bring ham-

    “Stop. Stop. stop!” Mother Perpetua said while several of the sisters were trying to hold back giggles. “It is harm. Harm. Not ham.” She eyed one elderly sister who looked away in innocence.

    “Now follow after me. Without provocation to the least of his children.”

    “Without provocation to the feast-“

    Several of the sisters broke out in laughter, even I chuckled under my breath.

    “Sister Theohild! I demand you stop this instance!” The Mother glared at the elderly sister.

    “Mother Perpetua, I am merely following your guidance,” she replied.

    “I know you are doing this on purpose and I will not continue to stand while-“

    There was a bell ringing in the distance.

    “We shall reconvene after dinner. Sister Theohild, I will not tolerate any further grievances.”

    “Yes, dear Mother.”

    The fellowship of sisters stood up and walked away. I had to hold back my laughter. It reminded me of the past, days spent reciting verses while undergoing physical training in the Cathedral grounds. Mother Perpetua’s grouchy demeanor mirrored that of the Bishops and Priests.

    Then my eyes noticed the appearance of a prim white skirt, standing beside me. I looked up to see the smiling face of Mother Dorothea.

    “Good Evening,” she said, glimpsing at the stack of books on the table. “I see you have been busy since the incident today.”

    “Ah-yes.”

    I didn’t exactly know what the proper etiquette was here. My hands instinctively clapped together in a bow for prayer, because that was how we greeted archbishops, bishops, and other people of importance at the Church. I realized halfway however, that this wasn’t a bishop, this wasn’t the Church, and that I wasn’t in Azeroth. What resulted was that I did a half-bow while my hands were outstretched in a half-hearted attempt at a hug.

    The gray-haired lady blinked in surprise, then brought her hand up to her mouth in a snicker. I froze, half from embarrassment and half from uncertainty at what to do next.

    “Apologies,” she said. “I did not mean to startle.”

    “It was nothing Mother Dorothea,” I replied, regaining my composure. “It has been rather quiet up here for some time. Wasn’t expecting a visitor.”

    “Quite unfortunate,” she said. “I hope it doesn’t trouble you if you may give this old woman but a moment of your time?”

    “No,” I said. “It is no issue at all.”

    She walked over to the table, picking up the top book from the stack.

    “Books after all serve as a window to the past. I feel much would be improved if we were aware of the folly of those that came before us”

    “Yes,” I said, not exactly sure what she was up here for. Suspicion even. “I agree.”

    Given that few from the Chantry visit the library, it is even rarer still to have someone outside of the order. May I know what brought you to this place?”

    Now it seemed like she was the one suspicious of me. My mind worked quickly, like when I fumbled for excuses during the times I was discovered by a priest outside the Cathedral past curfew.

    “Andraste herself actually,” I said, technically it wasn’t a lie. “I’m not from Ferelden, and… actually I haven’t seen much of the Chantry where I grew up.”

    “Really?” she said. “Not even a small hillside chapel?”

    “Yes, uh… my parents were secluded farmers for the most part.”

    “I see…I suppose there are places out there beyond the Chantry’s reach. It is quite the wide world after all.

    Her voice was sincere, but something in the back of mind was telling me she thought I was hiding something, which I was, although she was willing to accept my story for now.

    “Then it gladdens me that you have come up here out of your volition. Only a noble soul would come seeking Andraste without any additional encouragement.”

    “Eh… noble seems a tad far-fetched.”

    “Oh no, my good ser,” she said. “I believe it to be quite the apt description. It is why I intervened in the first place.”

    “You know. I wanted to thank you for doing that. Sticking yourself out for me like that.”

    “Again, not a problem at all. My colleagues, already have issue with my presence, but that is the reason for why I am here from Orlais.”

    If I remembered correctly, Orlais was another country, just west of Ferelden. I didn’t know too much about it, but I was aware the two countries weren’t exactly on the friendliest terms.

    “I hope you continue your actions, and wish you luck in what you are searching for.”

    She dipped her head in preparation to depart, and I replied in kind.

    “And for that matter, it is not customary to return a bow to a Chantry Mother,” she said with a smile before turning away and departing.

----------------------------------------

    My encounter with Mother Dorothea lingered in my mind as I moved down the steps of the Chantry. I couldn’t help but shake off the feeling that I had just attracted another unwanted eye, whether it was for good or for worse.

    Beyond that, in some bizzare way, I enjoyed the talk. It was then that I realized just how much I was longing for some genuine interaction. The Lorekeeper wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and if anything was the opposite.

    Back home, not a day would have gone by without a quarrel breaking out between Alamere and Singlepipe, or Bluebeard harping advice, or Captain Falmore admonishing everyone. Another patrol, another mission, on and on the cycle went. Annoying at times, but now I missed it.

    I entered the marketplace. With the red rays of the setting sun in the horizon, the area itself was less crowded. A few of the merchants were packing up their wares and dismantling tents in preparation to depart.

    One stall drew my attention, so I wandered over for a closer look. Thankfully, the merchant was busy with another customer, which allowed me to peruse his wares without being harassed.

    Most of the items on display looked like tools suited for kitchenware. Slabs of steel sharpened along a single edge and mounted on a wooden handle to form the shape of a knife. Wooden spoons and metal prongs. Pots and pans. Cauldrons.

    However, what drew my eyes was a small sliver of space were items of more decorative value than mere utility. Necklaces. Bracelets. Nothing too fancy, judging by the lack of precious stones. The beads and frame appeared to be either from wood or common metal. All of them looked small enough to fit in a belt-pouch.

    I had been so caught up in the current affairs that I hadn’t put much stock in what to do once I got back home. As I looked through the ornaments, I figured it would be nice to take back with me some memento of travels here. The story by far was far-fetched, so it would help to have something of this world to take back. Maybe as gifts.

    Two people came up to mind. Aunt Tiana and Katrina. Aunt Tiana didn’t give a snoot about jewelry or anything related to decorations. Katrina cared a bit less but I did recall a day where she and Milly made crowns out of sticks and grass that they found in the forest, taking on the airs of Arathi tribal chieftans. She did start wearing jewelry, at least until financial issues with her family’s farm necessitated that all those luxuries went to settling debt.

    Before the chain of events occurred that led to my current situation, I was planning on stopping by Ironforge, and visit some of the dwarven jewel-crafters there. Purchase a necklace, not a ring for that would have been far too direct. Something that was enough to show I had her on my mind all these years.

    “Hey!”

    The suddenness of the voice made me jolt, but the familiarity of it put me at ease. I turned around to see a red-headed elf peering up with a basket full of vegetables.

    “Fancy seeing you here Eratus,” she said with a broad smile. “I see you are looking through the wares again.”

    “Oh, hello Shianni,” I said pursing the back of my head with one hand.

    “You’re the only shem-I mean human to call me by name like that you know,” she said.

    “Oh, sorry I didn-,”

    “No. No. I meant that in a good way ha ha.” She peeked a glance at what I was looking at.

    “Kitchenware?” she asked. “Didn’t think you were one to cook.”

    “No ha ha,” I replied. “I was looking above.”

    “Ah. Necklaces, bracelets. Didn’t take you for one to care about those sorts of things. Unless men wear it where you are from.”

    “No. No. I was looking for something for someone special back home. I haven’t talked to her much, and I’m not good at looking for those sorts of things… Actually, would you mind helping me look?”

    I didn’t know at first, but the radiance in her face seemed to dim ever so slightly when I said that.

    “Well,” I said. “If you are busy that is alright. I don’t want to take you for granted.”

    “No! No… It isn’t that. Nevermind,” she resumed smiling, a bit forced this time. “I’m sure we can find something here that she would like.”

    She stepped ahead then stumbled. Before she could fall, I moved one hand around her arm to keep her balanced while the other reached to secure the basket.

    “Are you… okay?” I asked.

    “Oh. I-I’m fine! Nothing.”

    I looked at her with skepticism as she steadied herself. Her face was flushed.

    “Let-Let’s go take a look.”

    The merchant, a fat man with a frilly mustache, finished exchanging coin with his customer and turned his attention toward us.

    “Good afternoon! How may I help you?”

    “Just taking a look for now,” I said.

    “Go on. Go on!” he replied.

    We took a closer look at the array of ornaments along the bench. Now that I was up close, it was easy to tell the craftsmanship that had gone into the woodwork. The bracelets and necklaces were carved into intricate animal and plant shapes. Not identical, but with a fantastical element that gave them a sense of originality.

    “So… I don’t mean to pry,” said Shianni. “But who is this woman that you are buying this for?”

    “I’ve known her for a long time. We grew up together, although we’ve been separated for several years, she hadn’t left my thoughts. I felt like I should get her something nice once I return.”

    “Oh… She sounds special.”

    “She is. Never met or known a woman like her before.”

    “Just curious but what sets her apart?”

    “Well…”

    I paused, thinking about it. It wasn’t that I couldn’t think of anything but that I was trying to get the right words out.

    “She’s strong, but not physically. I think brave is a better word. Never strayed from her path, even when we were children. Gave the adults a headache ha ha. Smart too. Managed her family’s farm before we were even of age, did a damn good job of it too. Above all though, she has a good sense of right and wrong.”

    Speaking of which, a necklace caught my eye. It had a wooden wolf carved into a small block of wood as the main ornament, surrounded by blocks shaped in the various phases of the moon. I remembered Katrina wanted to have a direwolf for a pet. Audacious as it was back then as it is now, I figured this would be a reasonable compromise.

    “What do you think?” I asked Shianni.

    “Hm? Oh. I think it would be a wonderful gift. Quality seems good.”

    She didn’t have the same attentive look on her face the last time she sorted and picked out supplies for me, but I took her word for granted. She hadn’t let me down so far.

    We haggled a bit with the merchant on price and left with the necklace in a belt-pouch.

    “I-I should get going,” Shianni said, looking down on the ground. “It’s going to be late soon. It was nice seeing you again though!”

    She scrambled away before I got a chance to say good-bye. I had a feeling I said something wrong in the midst of the conversation, but couldn’t exactly pinpoint it.

    There was still some light left in the sky so I decided to make my round over to the Blackstone Irregulars. It was going to take some time deciphering all the information that I got collected and, in the meantime, I was going to need some more coin after donating most of it to the Chantry. Maybe a day’s effort with Madame Lebois. My mouth watered at the very smell of the bread.

    I arrived at the scene, and had just gotten the job secured when I felt a hand clap down on my shoulder.

    “Thought I might find you here.”

    I turned to see the face of Taoran Hawkwind. I quirked a fake smile.

    “Well you found me. What do you need?”

    “Now is that any way you should be talking? You know, for a new member, you have quite the mouth.”

    I didn’t respond, letting the silence linger between us.

    “That was just in jest,” Taoran laughed taking his hand off my shoulder. “It is good to see that you wearing something befitting of the guild.”

    “Well, I wasn’t about to let it go to waste, especially now that there is nobody to return it to.”

    “Indeed… Speaking of that, there is an opportunity out there that I was wondering if you wanted in-“

    “No.”

    Taoran blinked, like he couldn’t believe the rejection.

    “Why… you can’t be serious. Plenty of coin in it-“

    “No,” I said, emphasizing the finality of the word. Something about the whole affair rubbed me the wrong way and I didn’t want anything more to do with it, outside of necessity.

    Taoran sighed and shook his head. “Very well then. But do be so kind to let me be…”

    “Taoran!” a gruff voice said. I could hear the clicking of leather soles on the pebblestones behind me. I turned to see a young man, who was already my height, dressed in a gold tunic embroidered with red stripes. Vaughn Kendells if my memory was correct. He brushed me aside as he walked over to his friend.

    Behind him were four others. The first was a figure I would have recognized anywhere from the arrogant gait of her walk and posture. Habren Hyland, dressed in a red and gold dress, that complemented Vaughn’s, with frills fluffing from her wrist cuffs. She was looking out into the distance, her face set in disinterest and apathy. Trailing her, was her retainer, who looked as tired as I remembered her, along with two of Vaughn’s lackeys, who were eyeing me with contempt.

    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and took a few steps back to let the little lord talk to his friend. I kept my face turned away to give them privacy, but was watching the interaction from the corner of my eyes.

    “Vaughn!” Taoran said, shaking his hand. “What brings you out here at this time of the day?”

    “Oh I just wanted to show my lady the rest of the city,” Vaughn said, then turned his head.

Dear Habren?”

    She perked her head to Vaughn, putting up a smile that concealed the displeasure reflected in her eyes.

    “Yes?” she said, in a quiet voice that did not match the haughty tone I recalled her using at Madame Lebois.

    “I would like to introduce you to one of my good friends,” Vaughn said, “Taoran Hawkwind. Son of Raelnor Hawkwind who commands the Blackstone Irregulars.”

    “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she curtsied.

    “And I can say the same my lady,” he replied.

    It was just a moment, but I could almost feel a palpable shift in the air between them. As if there was something, whether it was in their eyes or their postures, that told me there was more to this than what was immediately apparent.

    “I heard from my father that the Blackstone Irregulars were instrumental and heroic in their defense of Ferelden,” she said.

    “I am honored that my guild has received such praise from an Arl,” Taoran replied. “I can only hope to live up to my father’s legacy.”

    “On that,” she said. “I have little doubt.”

    Her smile this time was different than the one that she gave Vaughn. More sincere, less superficial.

    “Well,” Vaughn interrupted. “We best get going. I want to take the Lady to explore the rest of the Lake. Have a wonderful day old chap.”

    The procession left, but Hybran and Taoran’s gaze lingered upon each other until distance forced them to break contact. I watched the entire scene, and couldn’t help it as a corner of lip quirked up in amusement.

“She is a beauty I’ll give you that,” I said.

    “Yes… Yes, she certainly is.”

    “Well, I guess that is it then. Can’t do much besides look from afar with girls like her. We’re of a different kind altogether. Poor boys shouldn’t be chasing after rich girls as they say.”

    Taoran said nothing, but his expression shifted, from bliss to darkness. “No… No, they should not.”

----------------------------------------

    The sky was dark and the candlelights of the tavern were within sight. After all the efforts of this day and yesterday, all I wanted to do was relax, enjoy a good beer, and stuff my stomach with some plain stew. The monumental efforts ahead of me, involving scouring most of Denerim to find a potentially non-existent house was going to require my utmost focus. I was going to need all the rest that I could get.

    I was thankful, that I was no longer lugging the chest around. The Lorekeeper hadn’t piped up about any threats, and I didn’t have to worry about being ambushed by a pack of thieves.

    There were probably six houses separating the distance between me and the tavern when a lone figure stepped out of one of the alleyways.

    I thought it was another passerby, judging by the fact that there was nothing sudden about the movement and the Lorekeeper didn’t alert me. However, as I continued walking along, it stopped between the inn and I.

    It was lean and slender, holding a bundle of things in one hand. Its face was obscured by a hood, which it lowered to reveal an elven face, the same one belonging to the elf I had treated a week ago.

    I narrowed my eyes, unsure of what she wanted, or what she was doing here. After I returned her daggers, I figured our affairs were done and she would have gone off to who-knows-where.

    “What do you want,” I asked.

    She said nothing, standing as still as a statue.

    My feelings moved from confusion to weariness and to suspicion. Most of the elves here hadn’t been so kind. Regardless of their treatment at the hands of men on this world, my feelings of sympathy were rather marred by past experiences.

    “If you have nothing to say then get out of the way,” I said and moved to step around her. I kept my right hand close to the hilt of my sword in case she tried to do anything funny.

    “Wait,” she said. I stopped.

    She stepped towards me, then offered the bundle that she was holding in her hand.

    With one eye raised, I took it with my left hand. I recoiled a bit from the stench, like dried blood, sweat, and other bodily excrements. That was when I realized it was the blanket that she had ran off during her rather speedy departure.

    I looked at her with one eye raised,” I uh… appreciate it but you didn’t have to return this.”

    “I know,” she said, biting her lips. “I just-I just wanted to apologize. You didn’t have to help me and uh- I may have acted a bit rash.”

    Well that was a first, and the last thing that I was expecting. Her quivering voice, was enough to tell me that her words were sincere. I opened my mouth to reply, when I heard a growling noise. At first, I thought it was some wild critter, then I realized it had come from her, or rather, her stomach.

    I laughed, for the first time in quite a while, I laughed. She dipped her head down and crossed her arms around her waist. If I could see her face, it was no doubt blushing in embarrassment.

    It was also an opportunity. A good one to get to know more about this city from a local.

    “Say,” I said. “Sounds like you haven’t eaten in some time. How about you join me for dinner.”