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From the Ashes: Spark of Rebellion (ch. 18)
🕑 Added 2022-12-02 15:43:41 +0000 UTCIt wasn’t often that I stepped behind the bar in the Blushing Maid. It was a rare occurrence that I tended to reserve for special occasions. The eradication of one of the few rival gangs left in the city was this such occasion -- since everyone that had lived in the slums was squatting on the streets either because their house burned down or their landlord was vastly hiking up the rent to force them out, gangs were on the rise. Some sought revenge upon me and the Rabbits. Those gangs didn’t last long, and I was taking the time to crush the others.
The Rabbits started off as a band of thirty and we were left unchecked for too long. Until it was too late. I decided I wouldn’t make the same mistake as my predecessors and took the time to crush even the smallest of rivals in Denerim.
“Today,” My voice rang out across the hall as I emptied a bottle of spiced rum into a dozen waiting mugs, goblets, and glasses, “We welcome fifteen new Rabbits to our fellowship,” I said, a cheer going up at that, the fifteen in question the loudest of them all and the center of attention. “And we celebrate the band of… something. I can’t remember! What I do know is this -- they sought to challenge us and now they’re ashes in the wind!” Another cheer went up as the celebration began in earnest.
Being behind the bar was a good way for the people to see me. It was so easy to stay invisible and just watch people, or only appear when orders needed to be given. By being behind the bar at a celebration, my Rabbits saw me, their boss, in the flesh. I wouldn’t be some far flung figure that they heard about as it was the case with the other Rabbits over in Amaranthine, or Edgehall, or South Reach.
The fifteen freshly blooded Rabbits were getting drunk -- pretty girls and guys danced around them, feeding them drinks and food, while all around them veteran Rabbits patted them on the backs for a job well done. The gang had been inconsequential and the territory gained was already ours to begin with, but it was important to celebrate a victory. The Maid was filled with sounds of merriment and, it was for that reason, I nearly missed a dark-skinned woman strutting up to the bar.
“Well, well, well,” I heard a familiar seductive tone begin over the sounds of singing and laughing. “You certainly grew up nice,” Captain Isabela remarked, leaning on the bar and giving me a dangerous smile. I went still when I saw her, blinking in surprise. She looked as radiant as I remembered her -- I thought it had just been lust and rose-tinted glasses, but it wasn’t. Captain Isabela was beautiful -- the same dark skin, the dark brown eyes, the gold piercings, and the dark curtains of hair that were tied back with a blue silk cloth.
“Captain Isabela,” I greeted her, a rare smile gracing my lips. “I didn’t get word that the Siren’s Call was docked in Denerim,” I said, grabbing another bottle and uncorking it with my teeth.
“Were you looking for little ol’ me?” She questioned, batting her eyelashes at me.
“I was, actually. I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting in here,” I asked and, based on the expression that flashed over her face, she did. However, she seemed unbothered by it.
“It’s not a bad idea to have an entrance fee for a place like this. The Pearl was my home away from home in Denerim, but I see that this place was designed by an Antivan,” Captain Isabela said, turning around to lean her back upon the counter. She seemed to drink it all in with a smile on her lips. “I heard about this place in the Marches, you know? The Blushing Maid. A brothel is what Denerim’s known for now. I just had to see it for myself.”
I reached into my coin purse and let fifteen silver drop upon the counter. Captain Isabela heard the sound, raising an eyebrow at me. “Trying to impress me?”
“No. My men shouldn’t have shaken you down, Captain Isabela. They were given your description, but it seems they have short memories,” I remarked, inclining my head to her. “Everything is on the house for you and half price for your crew,” I told her, earning a deadly smile in response.
“Ooh. Free, huh? I do love the sound of that. And Captain Isabela, hm? I think you’re going to make me quiver,” she teased, taking the silver and the glass of rum that I poured for her. “But, I think I’d like it more if you just called me Isabela. May I ask what's causing the… generosity?” She questioned me, taking a long drink from her rum without breaking eye contact.
“Gratitude. You helped Soris and Shianni buy sixteen sovereigns worth of food a few years ago. The late Arl Urien locked down the alienage a week later with the intention of starving us so the food prices didn’t go too high for decent folk. Because of you, Isabela, my people weren’t forced to eat the dead to survive the winter,” I told her and that seemed to genuinely catch her off guard.
She blinked owlishly at me, “Oh. Shit,” she muttered. “Well, I’ll just call that my good deed for the decade then,” she decided before her eyes became half-lidded, “While this talk of the past is all nice and good, I’m far more interested in the present.” She remarked, seemingly uncomfortable with the fact that she saved my people from starvation with, what I’m guessing, was a thoughtless gesture of kindness. Isabela reached out and placed a finger on my chest, tilting her head coyly, “I don’t suppose you’re included in that ‘everything is on the house?’”
I gave her a flat look and she seemed disappointed, “Aw. I remember you blushing. This isn’t bad though. You have a nice smoldering look. I’m a sucker for your eyes,” she sighed, not at all bothered by the flat look. A look that had made grown men weep.
There was a point that my pants would have been off faster than she could blink if she had asked a few years ago. I would have been a blushing stuttering mess, but that was two years ago. Now? I don't know. Isabela was beautiful, and I could say that I liked her, I just wasn’t sure how I felt about being with a human. It felt like I would be betraying the memory of Kallian in some way. Even if I had already betrayed it and I knew she would hate what I had become.
Even if I hadn't, I knew she would want me to move on.
"Boss!" I heard a Rabbit say, catching my attention. "There’s a human here to see you. Says he’s a Grey Warden. Had a griffon on his chest too,” the runner informed me, catching my attention.
A Grey Warden? Here? To see me? Now, that was a surprise. “Did he give his name?” I asked, earning a shake of the runner's head. “Black hair? Beard?” That got a nod. “Hm. Send him in,” I decided, wondering exactly what the Grey Warden Commander could want with me. The Grey Wardens were an old order that Garahel belonged to. However, without a Blight to fight, they were a relic to most.
The runner let the Grey Wardens in and I saw that Duncan was accompanied by the newest Warden of about five months. I couldn’t think of his name off of the top of my head, but it was impossible to mistake Duncan. He was a man in his late forties to early fifties wearing the Grey Warden uniform -- grey plate armor, dark blue cloth studded with scales, and around his legs were long skirts of cloth armor.
“Warden Commander Duncan,” I greeted him as he neared, watching cast a glance to Isabela, who seemed absolutely delighted by his appearance. It was annoying to be forgotten about so quickly, but it did give me the opportunity to sort my feelings out. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked him, sizing him up as well as his companion. All the while, the Rabbits on guard got ready to move, not at all liking the idea of an armored and armed human in our midst.
Duncan glanced at Isabela, who smiled and fluttered her eyelashes before he looked to me. “The matter is of some delicacy. May we speak in private?” He asked me and I considered it for but a moment. I saw that Duncan was armed -- I really needed to smack some sense into the guards -- with a few knives that he had tucked away. The other Grey Warden didn’t seem to be armed, but the fact of the matter was I didn’t like my odds against two armored humans in a straight fight. I wouldn’t be able to win without my magic.
And everyone said that the Grey Wardens were peerless warriors. They were stronger, faster, and had endless stamina. Even without the knives, I knew how much it hurt to get punched by an armored fist.
“Everyone,” I spoke to everyone within earshot, “stop listing in on our conversation,” I instructed and the shadows and onlookers quickly walked away or distracted themselves. Duncan watched them go and the younger warden seemed keenly aware of how surrounded they were. “Private enough for you?”
I could tell that it wasn’t but Duncan wisely decided not to protest, “There is a Blight.” His voice was rough and frank, catching me completely flatfooted. I recovered by starting to set up some glasses, my hands moving along with my thoughts. “And it has originated in Ferelden.”
Shite. Fuck. Fuck arse. “A Blight. Here? Now?” I questioned, feeling… cheated. I sure as fuck hadn’t counted on a Blight in my plans. That was a right fucking wrench tossed right in ‘em. Blights lasted anywhere between several bleedin’ centuries or decades. “After four hundred sodding years!?” Four hundred years and in me own backyard… What the fuck. This changed absolutely everything. Maybe I could find a silver lining in this right mess, but for the most part, everything about the Blights was bad.
“Indeed,” Duncan said, accepting the drink.
I needed to focus. I could think everything through when I wasn’t in front of guests. “And the Maker shits in my dinner once again,” I muttered to myself before pinning a sharp look at Duncan, “Which brings you here for what exactly?” I asked and, at the very least, Duncan didn’t mince any words.
“To recruit you into the Grey Wardens,” he answered, setting his glass on the table.
I didn’t even have to think about it.
“I refuse,” I responded on instinct. There would have been a time that I would have been over the moons at the prospect of joining the Grey Wardens. They were a legendary order. However, joining went against my interests. Grey Wardens were non-political. I would have to answer to Duncan and some pissant over in the Anderfells. Given their sterling image, I doubt that they would allow me to continue on with my activities.
Duncan didn’t seem at all surprised by the refusal. Seemed like he expected it. “I understand that you have concerns, but my desire to recruit you is due to the unique connections you possess and what you have accomplished,” he said, flattering me. Isabela watched the entire exchange happen, her gaze bouncing between us, very interested in the conversation. “I’m presenting this offer because I believe to end the Blight, we require men such as yourself.”
“It’s always nice to have one’s talents recognized,” I responded, my tone flat, “but my answer remains the same. If you want help combating the Blight, I’ll be happy to give assistance at a reasonable cost. The Blight is a threat to the world and I, rather unfortunately, am one of the idiots living in it. However, I have no interest in joining your order and you would be wise to not press the issue.”
The Right of Conscription was something unique to the Grey Wardens and was given to them in the wake of the First Blight. In theory, they could walk up to anyone -- from the lowest of peasants to the highest of kings -- and conscript them on the spot, making them a Grey Warden recruit. They would forgo any titles or properties as a result. Being conscripted and fleeing was a hanging offense.
Getting conscripted would bring attention to me that I didn’t need. The blue bloods didn’t care about me because, in the end, I was beneath their notice. They didn’t care that I ran the docks or that the alienage was refitted because it didn’t affect them. It didn’t matter to them. They just saw that taxes were paid on time, businesses were thriving, and that was that. Getting conscripted by the Grey Wardens would draw a lot of attention to me, especially if this was actually a Blight.
“Was that a threat?” Duncan questioned me, his tone decidedly even, not backing down in the slightest. His junior warden stiffened, preparing for a fight. “I don’t see how that would end well for you. King Cailan is a dear friend to my order, and the murders of myself and Warden Alistair will be noticed quite quickly. I imagine that would cause trouble for yourself,” he challenged.
He was right about that. According to the servants in the Royal Palace, King Cailan fawned over the Grey Wardens, was absolutely obsessed with them. Murdering two Grey Wardens at the start of a Blight was bad for business all around.
“That it would,” I agreed, an edge in my tone. Perhaps I had gotten too used to being free to do as I liked, but I really didn’t care for how restricted I suddenly felt. “All the same, I have no interest in being a Grey Warden. It would be in all of our best interests that I don’t become one.”
Duncan was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing but a fraction before he inclined his head towards me. “I understand,” he voiced but there was a slight edge there. Not so much as a threatening one… but I wasn’t sure. “In that case, I would like to make available your… services. I have traveled Ferelden and I know the reach of the Rabbits extends quite far.”
My eyes narrowed a fraction at the implied threat, “Naturally. You Grey Wardens have saved the world four times before. I’d be honored to aid you in your noble quest to do it again.” I told him, and I would aid him in whatever it was. However, I knew the matter wasn’t settled because the tension between us only swelled. From what I heard about Duncan, he was a good man. Not the type that would get uppity just because he didn’t get his way in something or someone told him no.
Either I heard wrong, or something else was at play.
“I thank you for your generosity and your time,” Duncan said, bowing his head to me before he turned and walk away. The younger warden that accompanied him seemed surprised that was the end of it, his gaze flickering to me, then to Duncan, then to me, then back to Duncan before he began to follow after him. I watched them go, a frown tugging at my lips as I considered the short conversation.
“He didn’t haggle,” I muttered to myself. He didn’t state what he wanted beyond a mild promise of our aid. He didn’t try to talk up the Grey Wardens after I shot down his offer three times -- that could be him taking the hint that I wasn’t interested, but the entire conversation struck me as odd.
Isabela sighed forlornly as they left the Maid, “Never trust a man that doesn’t haggle. Even if he does have a great beard,” she said, breaking the tension by grabbing another glass of rum. “And comes bearing terrible news. A Blight? Here I was hoping to stay in Ferelden for a spell.”
That was an attitude that many were going to share. “Denerim’s going to get overrun with refugees,” I muttered. My mind was racing, searching for a way that I could turn the Blight into something good for me, but I was coming up empty. In theory, the Blight could weaken the Ferelden crown, making it easier to usurp the country, but if I had that thought then Orlais would as well.
The land itself would become tainted and poisoned. The Western Approach in Orlais was once a land of plenty, and now there was only sand and stone because the Blight had killed the land itself. It took a place years to recover from the Blight if it ever did. Tainted soil or not, Orlais would move in force. Eager to recapture its lost territory and avenge slights given. In short, the Blight was nothing but bad business for me. Even the opportunities it did provide weren’t worth fucking my plans into the dirt.
Grabbing a bottle of rum, I brought it to my lips and took a deep swig of it. The sweet alcohol burned down my throat, but I took another swig all the same. “I need to start making preparations,” I decided, earning a look from Isabela.
“You know, I heard about the Rabbits all the way over in Wycome. They told tales of monstrous elves that slit the throats of babies and carved the eyes out of little boys. Any of those stories true?” Isabela questioned, gesturing for me to top her off.
I met her gaze unflinchingly, “The eye story was taken out of context. The boy was a full-grown man of thirty and I only took one of them.” I told her, filling her glass up. “I took the other when his father refused me a second time. He tried to call my bluff and found out that I don’t make them.”
“Scary,” Isabela remarked, not sounding scared in the slightest. The opposite, really. She seemed excited. “Got any more stories for me?” She asked, knocking her glass of rum back and holding it out for a refill. She seemed determined to make me regret letting her have the run of the place.
And I did have more stories, even if she never managed to make me regret marking everything for free. I found out that Isabela, according to her, really was here on business no greater than she wanted to see the Blushing Maid. She talked of raiding ships and how, with half of the city being burnt down, she was having to venture out of her usual routes for vessels to plunder. It was interesting hearing her talk about it, especially when I was getting ideas in the back of my head on possible opportunities.
I did have a few ships under my command. They were merchant vessels, and most of them were out of Denerim at the moment, but they would come back in a few months' time. It would be well worth it to have them load up refugees and take them to the Free Marches or Orlais.
It was far too soon to give up on Ferelden, but I needed to make plans for the country falling to the Blight. We would export Rabbits over to the Free Marches -- whichever cities or holdings would be most immediately affected by the Blight would be called back to safer cities, along with every elf they could convince to bring. With my ships, we would move into other countries under the guise of refugees fleeing the Blight.
It wasn’t at all ideal. The plan was to foster more natural growth over the course of years while maintaining Ferelden as a power base that could finance the chapters in other countries until they could do so themselves. However, needs must and the plan was about as good as I was going to get. I would need to speak with the other leaders of the Rabbits to see what they could do in response to the Blight and order them to make preparations-
“Boss!” My thoughts were interrupted when the same runner as before busted through the front door shouting loudly, his eyes bulging out of his skull. “It’s the guard! They’re coming here!” the runner shouted, his words sweeping over the entire brothel, and his shout left silence in its wake. Isabela seemed cautious, the good nature bleeding out of her while my Rabbits began to gather their arms.
So, that’s your play, Duncan?
“All of you, stay here. Keep the drink and good times going. This is a celebration, after all,” I said, setting a bottle down. People were confused, trading looks as I stepped out from behind the counter. “Just a bit of business that the other side is playing hardball for. Nuthin’ to worry about lads,” I said, nodding my head to Isabela, who nodded in return, knowing that we were done for the evening.
“If…” I heard someone mutter, trading looks with the Rabbits around them, “you’re sure, boss.”
“I am,” I stated, striding towards the door. I stepped out into the city just in time to see that the guards were marching down on us in force. I recognized the man leading them, his expression tense. There were a good fifty guards coming, shoving their ways down the streets. I walked down the steps, patting the Rabbit guards on the shoulders as I passed. They were ready to jump in but were following my lead. The guards came to a stop in front of the Maid and I could feel the eyes of the civilians upon us.
“Torvald. How’s your niece?” I asked the Guard Captain, whose face paled at the innocent question.
His lips thinned and despite all the people on the street, his gaze meeting mine for the briefest of instances before he looked down at the ground. “We were ordered to bring you in, Azoth. To Fort Drakon. Will you come willingly?”
Hm. “And who gave you this order?” I questioned, making Tovald go very, very, very still. I saw it on his face before he answered. “The King himself, was it? I suppose I should be blushing. The King himself wants me arrested.” I said, walking to him and holding out my hands. “Well, if it's what the King wants, then who am I to deny him?”
Torvald's lips thinned into a small line, his face pale and despite the cool weather, he was sweating. “That… that won’t… be necessary,” he said, making no move to cuff me.
“Nonsense. I’m a common criminal, Guard Captain. One whose ignoble deeds have been brought into the light,” I said, gesturing with my hands that were ready to be cuffed. People saw the reluctance and there were murmurs abound. The entire guard looked nervous. Afraid. In the past year, I gave them good reason to be. “Come now, Guard Captain. We wouldn’t want tongues wagging that you aren’t doing your job. You just might lose it for angering the man that pays you.”
“Maker’s balls,” a guardsman stepped forward, taking out a pair of manacles that the Guard Captain wasn’t willing to put on me. He was a new face. Klyon, I believed his name to be. Talent that was recruited outside of Denerim. “By order of the king, you are under arrest. Save your threats, implied or otherwise. I don’t have a family for you to threaten, you scum,” Klyon snapped at me, roughly slapping on the manacles.
“No, you don’t,” I agreed, making his eyes flash. “But your comrades do. It's one thing to take a risk with your own life, Sergeant Klyon. It's another thing to take a risk with the lives of your comrades. Something to think on,” I said, stepping forward, brushing past him and entering the heart of the guard unafraid. They all took a step back, none willing to touch me even when I was completely surrounded by them. “Come on. Lets go up to Fort Drakon, yeah? Always wanted to see it. Is it true that Meghren’s skull is still hanging from the ramparts?”
I pushed past the group of guardsmen, all of whom watched me with wide eyes. Emerging from the other end, I took a half dozen steps before I stopped and turned around to look at them. I could see the reluctance in their eyes. The fear and the uncertainty. Because, even right now, they knew that their families were at risk and I had more than proven my willingness to go for them if they disobeyed my will. “Well? You coming or not?” I asked them gesturing them to follow.
Fort Drakon, to my knowledge, was an old Tiventer fortress. The city of Denirim sprouted around it and over the ages, it grew into the unmitigated shit show that it was. It had been the last hold out of the Orlesien occupation and, sadly, I didn’t see any sign of the former king Meghren’s head on the ramparts. The guards were tense as I approached the fort, leading the way to it. I looked around the interior of the fort, seeing that it was a defensive place compete with balistas pointed at the front gate and plenty of chokepoints.
I heard screaming echoing down the halls as the torturers plied their trade on criminals and malcontents. As we passed by cells, I saw people hanging from the walls by their manacles, huddled in the corners, and sporting signs of torture. Which reminded me, I really needed to check up on Vaughan and Maric. I was led into a cell and Torvald closed the door behind me, opening his mouth to say something but I silenced him with a look.
Taking a seat, I cast Knock and Silence upon my manacles, unlocking them with little difficulty shortly before I did the same on the cell door. I kept both shut, just ready to open at a moment's notice. With that, I made myself comfortable as I waited for the other shoe to drop. It was difficult. The only thing in the cell was hard stone that had so much blood spilled on it that it was permanently stained.
Luckily, I only had to wait an hour.
Duncan revealed himself, looking no different than he had before, though he was alone. I made a point to seem unafraid and undaunted, simply cocking an eyebrow at him as he came to a stop in front of my cell. His dark gaze searched me for a long few seconds before he nodded. “I see that you are unharmed. Good.”
“I do hope you have a good reason for this,” I told him, standing up from where I leaned against the wall. “Because I’m rather upset with you at the moment. If you’re trying to force me to see the virtues of the Grey Wardens, you’re doing a real poor job of it.”
“Are you upset that I interfered with your plans or are you upset that all it took was for one human to say one word to another, and all of your hard work could have come crumbling down?” Duncan asked me, his tone even but his gaze was sharp. “Because that is what it took. I politely asked King Cailan to issue an arrest for you and while the guards do fear you, they don’t enough to disobey their king.”
My lips thinned at that, the words striking a nerve. “Could,” I echoed the word back to him.
“Indeed, could. I watched your arrest. You made quite the scene,” Duncan remarked. I hadn’t seen him, but I wasn’t surprised.
“And the reason you had me arrested?” I asked him, striding forward until only the iron bars separated us. I wasn’t quite seeing his angle. He fucked me with this. While I did what I could to salvage the situation by trying to show the people how afraid the guard was of me, the fact of the matter was, people would talk about how the mighty Azoth Surana had been arrested. And if I had been arrested, then other Rabbits could be as well. And maybe, just maybe, the Rabbits weren’t so scary after all.
Meaning that when I left this cell, I was going to have to murder those guardsmen’s families. Make examples of people who thought they didn’t need to fear us. In short, do everything I could to make it seem that the King’s Justice didn’t reach me, even in his own city. That would be a tall order and a complication I really didn’t need.
Duncan gave me a small and thin smile, a knowing one. “It was to decide something. I can use your organization, but you clearly intend to take advantage of the Blight for your own ends. I don’t care what those ends are. This is merely a negotiation tactic, as you would call it. To ensure that the Grey Wardens get a better deal and whatever advantages you seek to gain do not interfere with our mission.”
He got me thrown into prison as a negotiation tactic? Effective, I suppose. I’ve done worse to get a better deal. Duncan was playing hardball with the Rabbits. Establishing dominance and posturing in a way that was very familiar to me. Except how it was done was very different. Street Kings didn’t have connections to the King and Queen. They couldn’t pass a message along to the bloody sovereign of the kingdom and no matter how afraid they were of me, the Guard couldn’t ignore the orders of the King
“Nothing says opportunity quite like chaos,” I told him, cocking my head. “You’re right. I do intend to take advantage of the Blight. I’m in a position to. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coming to the Rabbits for dodgy dealings.”
Duncan inclined his head to me, “An apt point. As I said, I don’t care how you intend to take advantage of the Blight. So long as it does not interfere with the efforts to combat the Blight and that Grey Wardens are given priority treatment.”
“Something that I would have given without the arrest and jail cell,” I was compelled to point out. I wasn’t an idiot. As bad as I wanted my plans to work out, I wasn’t going to get in the way of the Wardens, the people who made it their mission to combat the Blight and the darkspawn across the world. They were specialists and it only made sense to leave matters regarding their specialties to them.
“Never negotiate from a place of weakness. A lesson I’m sure you’re quite aware of,” Duncan responded, sounding utterly unrepentant for his meddling. The message was clear. While the Grey Wardens were coming to us for help, they weren’t going to be taken advantage of. With a polite request, my kingdom on the streets could come crumbling down. Something that I found beyond frustrating. It was infuriating. Maddening. And it was a point well made.
“So I am,” I responded before I narrowed my eyes. “You said you were deciding something. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share what you decided? Should I expect a hangman's necktie by the evening?” I questioned, cocking an eyebrow when Duncan seemed to inspect me.
“As I thought. You truly have no fear of the King,” Duncan remarked, catching me flatfooted with it.
“Oh, I’m right terrified. Quaken' in me boots, really,” I responded, giving him an uncaring shrug as I sized Duncan up. I really couldn’t say I cared for how he was looking at me. Thoughtfully. Like he was still making that decision that he had mentioned. If it wasn’t in regards to me having a long drop at the end of a short rope…
“I believe,” Duncan started, his tone unyielding, “that despite everything that your organization can offer, you would have greater value as a recruit into the Wardens,” he decided, earning a slow blink from me. That was… flattering, I suppose. Still seemed like an odd decision when my gang ran the docks of the two biggest ports in Ferelden. The only other big one we didn’t control was Portsmouth.
“That so? And how do you reckon that?” I asked Duncan, stepping forward and resting my hands on the iron bars of the door, careful to not open it nor let the cuffs fall off my wrists.
“Because of what you have accomplished in spite of obstacles that your human and dwarven counterparts don’t have before them, and yet you accomplished more than they did. The Rabbits, as far as I can tell, rule Denerim’s underground with an iron fist. You’re established to the point that as much as I deal with the King in Denerim, I must also deal with you, the Rabbits.”
“Flatterer,” I remarked, but Duncan didn’t pause.
“Your methods are vicious and cruel, but your cruelty is carefully directed. It's a tool to be used rather than something to indulge in,” Duncan continued. “You have been able to turn even disadvantageous situations to your benefit. As much as people will speak of your arrest, they will speak of you walking yourself to Fort Drakon and how the guards were too afraid to escort you there. That is combined with a lack of fear for all-powerful enemies. Such as the King.”
“You think the Rabbits can take on the crown?” I questioned him, not sure if I should feel flattered or not with all the praise he was dumping on me. I leaned more towards suspicious.
Duncan shook his head, “No. At least, not as far as I’m aware. However, I don’t believe you are afraid of that fight should it come. And the havoc you shall inflict upon Ferelden in your defeat will leave the victors wondering if it would have been better to accept defeat at your hands.” I couldn’t say that I liked that he knew that. It was only natural that I made plans for things going to shit. Plans that I considered putting into effect after this stay in a cell.
I don’t think Duncan knew about my invisibility or that I was a mage. If he did, he would have mentioned it. But, with it, every drop of blue blood in Ferelden would be spilled. I’d start with the King and Queen and move down the list until Ferelden tore itself apart. Orlais would probably move back in and I would continue my mission there. I would ensure that there would be no Ferelden when I was done exacting my vengeance upon this country.
“Those are all qualities the Grey Wardens need, now more so than ever,” Duncan said, and I could hear the sales pitch in his tone. “Our numbers are few in Ferelden, meaning we need men of quality if we cannot have quantity. In the coming days, there will be many difficult decisions. Times when we must decide what and who to sacrifice. You are such a man that can make those choices without flinching at the cost.”
“All very flattering, Warden Commander,” I voiced, telling the truth on that front. It was very flattering. I think I might blush at all the smoke he was blowing up my arse. “You’ve made a clear case on why you want me in the Grey Wardens. Why I would want to join your order is still a mystery, however.”
“I’m disappointed. I thought it would be obvious,” Duncan returned. “Joining the Grey Warden is in your best interest. The odds are against you because you are an elf. It’s not right, but it is true. However, should you join my order, in the eyes of the nobility and other important people you didn’t dare move against, you won’t just be an elf. You’ll be a Grey Warden at the time of a Blight,” he told me, his tone unyielding. “An ancient and distinguished order that, as you said, saved the world four times before. The next time a self-important human decides to move against you, you won’t end up in a cell with no recourse. Outside of escalation, of course.”
I saw the sales pitch. If he made it before, I wouldn’t have listened to him. By forcing me to experience it, he forced me to listen to it with a deeper understanding that his words rang true. The guard came after me because Duncan asked them to come after me. Despite all my threats and reputation. They still came after me.
They learned to ignore me and my people when and where they could, but they couldn’t do that if the King was telling them to come after me.
I worked my jaw for a moment, considering the offer thoroughly. It all sounded nice, but I had a feeling that reality would disappoint. However, he was right about one thing. During the Blight, as a Grey Warden, I could use that to greatly aid the Rabbits in ways that I couldn’t before. And… I suppose… when it was all said and done, when I used the title of the Grey Warden for all of it was worth, there was nothing stopping me from leaving the order.
“To clear the air, I plan to abuse the King’s goodwill towards the Wardens for my own ends,” I told him and I thought that I saw the barest hints of a smile tug at the edges of Duncan’s lips.
“I suspected as much,” Duncan said, producing a key for my cell but I gave him a smile.
“No need,” I told him, pushing open the cell door while I took off my manacles, idly spinning them on my pointer finger as I left the cell. Duncan watched me, his expression blank but his eyes showed hints of surprise as he realized that I could have left at any time I wanted. “I’ll go gather my things and make my arrangements,” I told him, letting the manacles fly off my finger to smash into the wall.
Looks like I was going to be a Grey Warden. And years ago I so desperately wished to be a hero.
Goes to show you really should be careful what you wish for.
Comments
Bud
He's going to murder Duncan when he finds out about the joining ritual. No chance to explain, no calm before the storm, no caring that he's in an army camp surrounded by humans. Just knives, spells and lots of dead bodies. Duncan dead, Alister dead, other warden recruits dead, because duncan would ensure he'd go first so not to spook him. Then a mad dash away from the King, his men, the other wardens, the mages and Templars in a running battle leading them deeper into the swamp.
Bellerophon
Hoping to see some character development. Maybe Duncan tempering him. Right now he’s not quite a chuuni edgelord but he’s definitely close. Maybe some time away from the horrors of the criminal underbelly will give him some time to heal. The man’s literally been covering himself in human blood from the day his family died. Maybe killing demons will be sort of therapeutic. The Grey Wardens are badass as fuck as well. I hope he can gather as much experience and knowledge from them as possible. Mainly hoping for a more ‘Grey’ MC than the edgy crime Lord he is now.
