Alistair raised himself up in the low bunk, hitting his head in the process.
Rubbing his head he looked around and realized where he was. Not in their camp off the road, but in Fort Drakon in the bunk of a soldier.
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
“Yes, Allen, I’m fine.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“A few hours Your Highness, dawn is just starting to break.” “The dragon is still burning on the roof and soldiers are still monitoring the progression of the burn and maintaining the burn.” “It’s about done and the flesh is nearly burned down to the bones.” “Stinks to high heaven it does.”
“I noticed that myself, the smell of it was making me sick.”
“Are there any pressing matters right now Allen?”
“Nothing so pressing that requires your assistance; I’ve been instructed to get you to Arl Eamon’s estate as soon as you are ready to leave.” “He sent word that the patrols that you want sent out, are waiting for you.” “They are waiting for you at Arl Eamon’s estate.” “The Arl sent them word to go there and get a bite to eat before starting on their journey.” “Change of plans he said.”
“Everyone in the next room is still asleep, except for Mistress Leliana.” “We just checked on all of them before waking you.”
“I’ll be ready to go once I’m dressed.” “I’ll be a few moments.”
“Aye, Your Highness, just let me know when you are ready.” “Do you need help with your armor Sire?”
“No Allen, I can manage.” “Thanks for the offer.” “Give me about fifteen minutes will you?”
“As you say, Your Highness.”
Alistair watched as his captain left his room. Allen seemed to be a down to earth type of guy. Alistair wondered if he had ever guarded Cailan. I’ll have to ask him sometime. Alistair knew he needed to develop a relationship with those that would be his guards. They would be spending a lot of time together. As it stood right now, the Chantry had assigned twenty-four templar guards for him, broken down into three squads. Eight guards per shift; Allen being their captain and he would soon be promoted to lieutenant, Alistair was sure this would happen. It was just a matter of time until the official ceremony from the Chantry he was sure.
Alistair swung his legs over the side of the bunk and sat for a few moments, he was still waking up after a few hours of sleep. Maker, he was so stiff from the battle. He took inventory of himself. He had a terrible cut on the back of his neck, it was burning and itching. His body was as bruised as everyone else that he’d fought with. His shield arm was just one massive bruise, from the top of his shoulder all the way down to his fingers. Maker his arm hurt, it would take a few days for that to heal. He needed some nature salve on that. His worst injury was a stab wound under his right arm – his sword arm at that. He was fairly certain it would have to be stitched up and a health poultice applied to it. Wait until Wynne saw that, he had a lecture in his future, he just knew it.
Just a few more inches and it would have probably been all over for him. A genlock rogue had gotten him under his arm when he was fighting a hurlock vanguard, the bastard had slide his dagger between the slits in his armor; Oghren had come to his rescue and killed the genlock attacking him from behind. After that wave, he’d grabbed a health potion out of his pack and drank it down and got prepared for the next wave of darkspawn at the gates. The damn wound hurt like hell. His chest was also one massive bruise. There wasn’t an area on his body that didn’t have a cut or bruise somewhere; his arms and chest had gotten the worst of it. He couldn’t imagine how Bell felt, her injuries where worse than his. At least he could walk. He was sporting one heck of a headache, probably from lack of sleep and food. Not to mention a ringing wallop to the right side of his head. He had a lump the size of a piece of coal on the right side of his head. That damn vanguard had gotten in an arc swing to his head and landed the blow before he was able to block with his shield and duck out of the way of the swing. He had been in the process of going through the motion of preparing for a shield bash to throw the vanguard off balance, and had lost his footing when the rogue had struck him from behind and taken the shot to his head. Thank the Maker for his helmet. He was sure it would have a good size dent in it. His eyes felt as if he had sand in them. He needed a bath and plenty of food. He hoped that Isolde had a lot of food, she had no idea how much a warden could eat. He was starved.
Alistair stood up and grimaced, his feet and ankles hurt even though he’d had a chance to get off of them. At least he had dry socks, dirty through they were. He looked around for a chamber pot. Not seeing one he went to the bathing pool in the room and relived himself. He hated to do that, but no help for it. He grabbed his socks and got them on. They were dirty as usual. Geez, which is worse the smell of the Arch demon burning or his dirty socks? He chuckled to himself.
It was good to feel relief that all of it was finally over and he’d finally had the chance for his emotional outlet before falling asleep. The dragon dead and the blight ended. It was something to be proud of. He hoped Duncan was proud if he was watching from the fade. He was fairly certain Duncan wouldn’t have been proud of his involvement with Morrigan and the ritual.
I’m not going to think about that, not yet anyway, not on this marvelous morning. They were all alive; nothing today was going to ruin that thought for him. He wasn’t going to allow it. Bell was alive and that was all that mattered to him. He would think about his child later and what to do about the Morrigan situation later, much later.
He knew when Bell left him at the gates; she wasn’t taking any chances on him getting in the final blow. She intended for him to live and be ruler. He had tried to make it to the roof of the fort before she stuck the final blow. He had seen the explosion from the Alienage as he had followed the path she had fought through the city. He had run and kept running until he stepped out on the roof. Killing darkspawn as he had progressed through the city to reach the fort, small war bands just keep coming in waves. He hadn’t been in time to take the killing blow. He had planned to stop her once the city was relatively safe.
He couldn’t fault her decision; she was only protecting her king, she had been raised just like Eamon to do her duty where her monarch was concerned. He had understood; yet, he was still angry that she had done that. It should have been him that struck that blow, not her. Just like Duncan, she had kept him out of the worst of the battle. It hurt that she had treated him as ‘His Royal Highness’ instead of just Alistair, her fellow Grey Warden, her friend and lover. Lovers no more would they be.
He did need to apologize to her, he had known all along that they couldn’t have children; he hadn’t been forthcoming in telling her that. He should have told her when she asked about the changes when becoming a Grey Warden. He hadn’t had the heart at the time. It had been too soon since the death of her parents and she still has no idea if her brother is even alive. Thus, her line is dead forever, if her brother is dead. Sometimes he still had trouble with the fact that the famous Cousland’s’ were all dead except for Bell. It was another blow that he had been trying to shield her from. He should have told her, he’d had the opportunity at camp during the nights to tell her, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her. Then she had made him king and he couldn’t allow her the false belief that they could stay together. She couldn’t give him children and as King he had a duty.
He wished he could take it all back, their physical relationship, he’d never regret his love for her. He had wanted his first time to be with her, which was something he would never forget and was something he would always cherish, and it was a memory that would have to last the rest of his life. It was also a memory he would never share with anyone. This was something he would always have, that one special moment in his life, with her. Once he got conscripted into the Grey Wardens, he had waited for the chance to be with a woman even though his fellow wardens had been truly wicked in their teasing. He had wanted it to be special. He never dreamed when he became a warden he would one day be king. He’d been told all of his life it was never going to happen, he would never be Ferelden’s ruler.
These were his thoughts as he was putting on his under padding. I’ll live with the regret of hurting her for the rest of my life. Nothing I will ever do or say is going to change the fact she can’t be my wife. I knew this was always a possibility when Eamon put me forth as king.
Alistair continued getting dressed, lifting his armor up over his head he slide into the finely crafted metal of Cailan’s armor, also splattered in blood and gore that had dried on the armor. He had several other plates of armor in their items at camp. He’d have a change of armor sometime today or tomorrow. He’d wanted to wear the Blood Dragon Armor that Bell had purchased for him. He loved that armor set. She had sent a note saying that he needed to be recognized on the battlefield as the King and would he please wear Cailan’s armor, so to please her he’d worn Cailan’s armor instead. He was hoping she would see that her opinion still mattered to him. She had barely glanced in his direction to see what he’d even come to the battle in. There would have been a time before the Landsmeet that she would have smiled at him for pleasing her.
Turning and twisting to get all of the buckles and straps fastened he was finally dressed. His helmet had a fairly large dent on the right side, that was going to need repaired. His greaves were splattered in blood and they looked really bad, no damage to them. His breastplate had a few nicks and scratches on it. He noticed that the dagger he’d been hit with had taken a bit of the metal and a large chunk of the breastplate when the genlock slide the dagger backwards; just under his right arm the armor was severely damaged. This would also have to be repaired; this ridge of the armor had been the only thing stopping that dagger from sliding all the way into his chest from the side. The dagger had gotten caught on the plate. He figured he only got stuck with half of the daggers length. He took up his gauntlets wiggled them onto his hands. Those of his kingdom had no idea how close they had come to losing their new monarch. Anora had been a few inches away from regaining her throne. It hurt when he breathed in and out, only slightly, it was manageable. Just a slight tightness in his chest, nothing to worry over once the wound was cleaned and sewn up. He’d had far worse, like getting munched and crunched inside the mouth of the High Dragon at the Urn of Scared Ashes. He had the scars on his chest to prove it too.
Bell hadn’t left his side the whole time he’d been injured and unable to move. They had camped out in the temple until he was healed enough to make it back down the mountain and for them to start the journey back to Redcliffe. She’d sat by his side and read to him and pampered him, spoon feeding him and she’d found a wheel of cheese in the village that she had saved just for him It had felt wonderful to have someone look out for him and be concerned over him.
He hadn’t agreed with Bell’s decision on letting Brother Genitivi inform the chantry of the Urn’s location. He hadn’t said anything except a wise crack over it. Her decision wasn’t something to fight over. She had later explained to him that she felt it was necessary so the chantry could protect and guard the urn and not allow another dragon cult to take up residence in Haven. Those that had survived in Haven hopefully would move on and go elsewhere. This was something he was going to look into as well, make sure that they had indeed moved on. Hopefully, he could make a trip back to the temple. He knew from the Revered Father being the priest they had to have been under the teachings of the Chantry out of Trevinter. Alistair was sure the chantry would want to know this.
The books in that library, the scholar in him, wanted to read some of those books that had been there. Maybe Wynne would go with him. He’d have to ask her. Something to plan for anyway, he was sure he’d have to travel over his kingdom to get an idea on the damage done to his country and what would be needed for the rebuilding and the recovery. He had decided he wanted to be a-hands-on monarch when ruling. He’d see the damage and where the money from the crown was going for rebuilding. The banns wouldn’t hoodwink him on the funds, they would have to give an accounting and he would see to it that the work was being done and not just take their word for it. The monies would be used properly. If he had to travel all over Ferelden for years, then so be it. Besides the temple he wanted to see the blight lands and Lothering and what could be done for the area, if anything at all.
Hopefully, breakfast would revive him; a massive amount of food would help him heal quickly, just one of the advantages of being a warden. The healing process was usually very fast. It would take his body no more than a few days to heal. The bruises would nearly be gone and very little pain.
He picked up his swords from under the bed and the shields and strapped them to his back and attached the sheath to his back. He also picked up Starfang and Duncan’s dagger and placed them within the sheaths on his back as well. He’d carry them with him until Bell awoke; he wanted to be the one to return them to her. It was a lame excuse to be able to talk with her; but the only one he had and he was going to take it. Hopefully, she would wake up today. He retrieved his small dagger from under the pillow and placed this inside his belt.
He opened his door and left the room. His guard fell into formation behind him. He felt someone brush past him. He knew it had to be Zevran getting out of the way. Bellavalia was relatively safe for now with Zevran and Leliana with her and two of Ferelden’s most talented mages guarding her, with two Templars. If someone tried to gain entrance to her room they would be met with swift silent invisible resistance. Any interlopers…their deaths would occur from poison daggers which he knew that Leliana and Zevran both fought with. He really didn’t feel any worry for her safety with two assassins near. He wished he could master the technique all of the rogues of their party used when in battle to coat their daggers; they all did it so swiftly. Zevran had taught Bell and Leliana how to do this, it was a Crow Technique.
Alistair started the long walk out of the Fort. He finally came to the main entrance of the fort. He pushed opened the heavy doors and stepped out onto the plaza of Fort Drakon. He hadn’t noticed before the two dead drakes in the courtyard. A couple hundred darkspawn lay all over the ground. He had to get to Eamon’s to eat and get back here and to the Alienage. He could smell the rot beginning in his nose. He had to hurry and get started on burning the darkspawn. It was going to be a very long day; but a bright one and one filled with hope for the future.
He continued on his journey to Eamon’s estate. Alistair was taking notes along the way, the destruction that the horde had done to the city. Many of the stone buildings – their roofs could be replaced with fresh thatch and the walls washed and painted, the masonry repaired. New buildings and lumber would be needed, so the forest nearby would have to be used. It was a shame the forest that lined the north road to Denerim’s approach would have to provide the lumber. There would be no help for it. Hopefully, the city could salvage as much as they could. This was something to ask Eamon on, he didn’t want all of that forest cut down. It was important to have the wild life nearby for people to hunt and provide themselves with food. They would need wood this winter for fires. A limit would have to be placed on how many trees could be cut down.
At least the north part of the country hadn’t taken as much damage as the south. They would have grain growing in the north. He needed to get people to Highever and to Gwaren and find out what was happening at the Teyrnirs. Lumber from Gwaren could be hauled to Denerim and Lothering if it was needed.
He’d like to get with Behlen too on the rebuilding. Maybe hire casteless, the plight of those people had stirred pity in his heart. He didn’t like Behlen and once again a choice not worth fighting Bell over. They’d had another discussion over Behlen one night by the camp fire. Her reason had been that Behlen was ruthless in killing his own family; he wouldn’t think twice about murdering Harrowmount to gain what he wanted. Harrowmount was doomed before he ever got started. He was the more noble and honest man of the two. Honestly wasn’t going to keep the dwarves from falling to the darkspawn. Behlen would bring the dwarves kicking and screaming into the future; the dwarves wouldn’t survive if they didn’t start using their casteless. Fighting the darkspawn in Orzammar constantly was slowing chipping away at the remainder of the Dwarven Empire. So she had chosen Behlen even though Bell hadn’t liked him either.
Alistair and his small party had finally made it to the market district. Maker, the destruction found here. So many buildings destroyed. He had come in the north gate closer to the chantry. It was amazing that the chantry had been untouched in the mayhem. He could see the injured lying about and the sisters from the chantry helping them. The doors to the chantry stood open. Sisters of the chantry had cooking fires going outside of the main doors; people were asleep wherever they could find space. Children huddled around their mothers. There were Templars guarding the sisters and also helping with stacking and breaking down wood from the damaged buildings nearby. They would need the wood for the burning of the dead this morning. The dead would have to be burned in piles, he knew this. Their ashes scattered, the bones buried in a mass grave. The burning of the dead would take days, if not weeks. They would have to work nonstop due to disease. It would be a slow process.
He walked further into what was left of the market district. He looked to his left and saw the house that his half sister had lived in was totally destroyed. He had no idea what had happened to Goldana and her children. He wanted to find out, even though she was heartless shrew, she was still his sister. It appeared that Wade’s shop was also destroyed and he had already heard from various people that the Gnawed Noble Tavern had also been destroyed. Ah well, if the owners were alive he was sure they would rebuild.
He walked the distance from the main entrance, rounding the corner he came to the entrance to Eamon’s estate. It stood and just like over at the chantry servants were seeing to the injured Redcliffe Knights and soldiers, and the citizens of Denerim. It was a sight, everyone working to help each other. There were elves, dwarves, humans, the Dalish all contributing. He could see Dalish hunters returning with game and gave their extra to human women at cooking fires. He saw dwarves helping, carrying the injured to the chantry.
Alistair also realized that humans had to also change their attitude with the elves. He didn’t want an Elven uprising, the nobles would fight him. He was sure of it.
Alistair made the entrance to Eamon’s estate and walked inside. The butler saw him and came running to him. “Your Highness, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you as well Dolan.” “You fared well during the battle and weren’t injured?”
“We had a close call when debris fell down on us in the cellars; it was a nerve wracking experience, all of us made it however.” “The Arl’s cellars will need some repair work but they held up.”
“Your old room is ready for you.” “I’ll get servants to bring hot water for your use immediately.” “I’ll go now and inform the Arlessa that you’ve arrived, she is in the kitchens rolling bandages with the ladies.” “The Arl and his brother are both asleep; do you wish for me to wake them?”
“No, let them sleep while I get a bath and eat.” “I need them refreshed and the sleep will do them wonders.” “Have my food sent to my room and would you see to it that my men are feed as well.” “I’ll also need a change of clothes and new under padding, if that is possible.” “I think the ones I’ve got on need to be burned, the cloth has had it, and I don’t think washing will do any good.”
“Will you also send large baskets of food to the Fort for Lady Cousland and her companions there for when they all awaken?” “Something to break their fast this morning – if it is only cheese and bread with ale and wine that will do.”
“I’d be honored Your Highness, I’ll see it done.”
“Your guards can break their fast in the dining hall.”
A servant will soon arrive to assist you Your Highness.
Alistair nodded and made his way through the great hall and up the stairs to his room. He had been in his room for only a few seconds when a knock sounded on his door. He opened the door, and found an elven male servant waiting in the hall.
“Your Highness, the buckets of hot water will begin arriving and I’m here to assist you, per Master Dolan’s instructions.”
“Uh…Err…Yes, come in.”
“Shall we get your armor off Your Highness and start there?”
“Uh yes,” Alistair was slightly flustered, he wasn’t used to people waiting on him.”
“Then take a seat Your Highness on the stool next to the bathing pool and we’ll get started.”
“Yes of course.”
Alistair was finding all of this rather amusing, considering he used to be the one taking care of any guests at the Arl’s estates. Like fetching water and tending to the horses of the guest at Redcliffe. Eamon had rarely brought him to the estate in the city once he married Isolde.
The male elf servant made fast work at getting him out of his armor. He was soon stripped down to his light shirt and trousers, and ready for his bath. Other servants were coming and going out of his room with hot buckets of water – pouring the water into the bathing pool and leaving to get more, and he saw one arrive with clean small clothes for him and new under padding, placing these on the bed. Hopefully, those would fit.
“What is your name if I might ask?”
“The elf was completely taken aback that someone would dare ask him his name.”
“My name, Your Highness, is Rolfe.”
“Your bath is ready Your Highness.”
“So it is.”
“Are you going to remove your underclothes?” Alistair turned slightly pink at this suggestion.
“Uh, just my socks right now, the rest are stuck to my body from the dried blood on them.”
“Alistair stood up and walked over to the bathing pool and slowly lowered himself inside.” He hissed as the water connected with his injuries.”
“Your Highness, you’re injured.”
“That is a nasty gash under your arm.”
“I’ll inform Master Dolan right away and get someone here to tend to you.”
“No need, Rolfe.”
“I have a healer at the fort; once I’m washed and the wound is cleaned out she’ll be the one to sew the wound up.” “I’ve had worse wounds believe me.” “I have elfroot and healing poultices in my pack that will do for the time being.” “I will need a clean bandage for it though.”
“Let me soak for a spell, then I’ll need more hot water.”
Rolfe could see the bathwater had already turned red from the blood coming off the king. Blood was filling the pool at an alarming rate. He had to tell Master right away. He sure didn’t want to get in trouble if the king died in his room while he had been assigned to him.”
“I’ll let Master Dolan know and we’ll get more water sent up.” “I’ll take your armor and have someone start with its cleaning and see to its repair; do you have another set.”
“I do, but those armor sets aren’t here.” “Actually, I’m glad that you reminded me.” “I need a wagon sent to our camp outside of the city and for our equipment to be brought back and stored here.” “I have an elf companion at the fort who knows the way.” “Have Master Dolan when he sends the food to have a message sent to Zevran, he is a blond haired elf who is currently guarding the Warden Commander at the fort. He is to take the cart to our campsite, once he has broken his fast this morning and return the cart and our equipment here.”
Alistair saw Rolfe pick up his dirty socks with the tips of his fingers and hold them at arms length away from him. The King laughed. Rolfe glanced over to him. “They are beyond use,” smirked Alistair.
“You can have the honor of burning the King’s socks if you desire.”
“I will do so gladly, Your Highness.” “I can’t believe I’m an elf and I have better linen than the king.”
Alistair chuckled deeply.
“I’ll leave you to soak for a bit Your Highness.” Rolfe walked over and left him towels and a cake of soap on the stool next to the bathing pool. “I’ll be back in short while to help you and see where you food is.”
Rolfe gathered up the King’s dirty clothes and stuffed them inside a laundry bag; he also unfolded another heavy burlap bag and began gathering the armor and putting the pieces inside the heavy cloth bag. He bowed and left the King soaking in his pool. Once he made it past the bedchamber door he took off running to inform Master Dolan of the King’s injury. Poop on ordering more water for the monarch. The King’s injury was serious. He didn’t want a flogging in not reporting he had seen the King’s injury.
Alistair sat for a few more minutes in the hot water, which was already starting to cool. The water was completely red at this point. He slowly stood up in the large bathing pool. He unbuttoned his thread bare linen shirt and slowly pealed it off of his body. His arms getting stuck in the sleeves from the wet fabric, finally getting the shirt off, he tossed it on the flagstones of his room. He unbuttoned his linen trousers and along with his smallclothes he slides them down his legs being careful in not falling inside the bathing pool. He stepped out of them and also tossed these aside.
The door to his room burst opened and in ran Eamon and Isolde. Alistair grabbed a towel from the stool to cover his male parts. He was flushed red at being found so, by Lady Isolde of all people.
“Alistair, Rolfe informed Dolan that you are injured, why didn’t you say anything?” “Here let Isolde and I see.”
“Eamon that isn’t necessary.” “I’ll be fine once Wynne sews up the wound.” “It stopped bleeding during my rest, so no need to fret.”
“Really, then why is there blood running down your side?”
Alistair looked down and saw that his wound had indeed broken and started to bleed again. He must have torn opened the scab when getting his wet clothes off of himself, and it was bleeding alot actually. He was feeling slightly light headed now.
Eamon rushed to his side, knocking the towels and soap off the stool, he grabbed the stool placing it in the bathing pool, and pushed Alistair down on it; ignoring the sloshing red waters his and Alistair’s moments were causing. Eamon took Alistair’s arm and lifted it up to examine the wound under his arm. “Maker, that wound is deep Alistair, and we can’t risk you getting an infection.”
“Isolde, send a messenger to the Fort and ask for Enchantress Wynne or First Enchanter Irving to come quickly; the king needs this tended to right away.” “Hurry woman.” Isolde turned and rushed out of the room.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen Isolde rush to do anything on my behalf before.”
“Don’t be flippant my boy.”
Eamon just now saw the bruise that covered Alistair’s entire arm and chest.
He also noticed for the first time how many scars covered Alistair’s body.
“Alistair, where did you get those scars on your chest? “You never had scars like that when you lived at Redcliffe.”
Eamon had grabbed a towel and was holding it against the wound on Alistair’s side, applying pressure to get the bleeding to stop.
“What Eamon, did you think learning to become a Templar was all book learning?” “Really Eamon, I’m amazed at you.” “I’ve got numerous scars on my body from learning to handle a sword Eamon.” “I was being trained as a Templar Mage Hunter if you recall.” “They are the toughest warriors in the Chantry armies, or didn’t you know that.”
“These scars aren’t very old Alistair.” “No, I didn’t know about mage hunters.”
“Well Eamon, their training is enough to fell any man, it is rigorous and will drain a man and the Templars are relentless in their training, the Grey Wardens even more so.”
“I saw you fight in the battle Alistair, you’ve become a fine warrior.” “The Templars and Grey Wardens taught you well it seems.”
“They did Eamon.” “That is the one thing that I am good at, being a warrior.” “I’ve been trained in all the ways of a warrior, from dual wield to archery, along with the two handed style, which I hated I might add. Using a shield is my preference, even though Mage Hunters usually fight as dual wield warriors.” “Bellavalia doesn’t know I can fight in the dual wield style. We needed my shield arm since she fights in the dual wield.”
More servants came into the room with more water, the steam rolling off of the buckets.
“Set those down and allow them to cool,” spoke Eamon. The King will have need of cold water to stop this bleeding I’m afraid.”
Alistair reached down and pulled the cork plug out of the drain in the pool. The blood filled pool of water started to drain. He was sitting on the stool inside the pool with a towel wrapped around his lions.
“These scars Eamon I got from being inside the mouth of a High Dragon.”
Eamon stood up and blinked at him.
“Did you say a High Dragon?”
“Alistair laughed, yes, Eamon, a High Dragon, I wouldn’t joke about a dragon.”
“Not the Arch Demon, you weren’t on the roof.”
“Don’t remind me, I’m still mad that Bell left me at the gates.”
“It was her duty Alistair in protecting you.”
“That is rubbish Eamon and you know it, I’m still a Grey Warden and always will be.” Alistair said a bit sternly. He continued on with his tale.
“No, the High Dragon which I speak of was at the temple where we found the Urn of Scared Ashes that healed you Eamon.” “We had fought our way through a cult of Blood Dragon Cultists and numerous drakes and dragonlings inside the temple before we ever made it to the urn.” “Did I mention the cultist mages; we fought several of those as well.”
Eamon was blinking again.
“Once we got the ashes and left the temple the High Dragon swooped down on us.” “It was fight or die, since we had killed all of her young.” “The High Dragon gave us no choice we had to fight her to get to the exit of the Temple.” “We were late in arriving at Redcliffe from when we wanted to arrive.” “I had to take a few days to heal up.” “Not many can say they’ve slept a few feet away from the Urn of Scared Ashes.” “I can say it because it happened.” “At least we had a roof over our heads for a few nights, since it was so cold up on the mountain.” “That helped a great deal.” “We all got several good nights’ sleep up there.”
“Thank the Maker, you weren’t killed.”
“Eamon, you have no idea what we have gone through to raise those armies under the Grey Warden treaties, and try to avoid the death squads that Loghain sent to track us.” “Bell is the one that led us.” “If it wasn’t for our companions and the armies that she raised – Bell, I, nor any of us would be alive right now.” “It was all Bellavalia and every one of our companions, each of us had to fight for our lives on the road Eamon, every single day.” “We’ve outfought assassins, darkspawn, death squads of every kind.” “I’m amazed that all of us survived.”
“Wait until I tell you about the werewolves.”
“Werewolves, you fought werewolves?”
“Yes, Eamon, we’ve had the most amazing adventure traveling through Ferelden.”
“Sounds like tales to be told around the fire tonight.”
“Let’s get you bathed, feed, and sewn up, and see to the business of the Kingdom.”
“Sounds like a plan Eamon.”
“Ready for that cool water Alistair?”
“No, but I’ve a feeling I have no say in the matter.”
“None whatsoever Your Highness,” laughed the Arl as he picked up the bucket of water and poured the slightly cooled water over his King.